In a moment of subversive weakness, I filled in the "I am of Hawaiian descent" bubble on my census form. Once my little fib was in the mail and irretrievably on its way to D.C., I panicked and instructed my son to answer the door with a lilting "Aloha" if a census worker ever made a follow-up visit.
I have at least two friends who railed against filling out their census forms because of privacy issues, and there have been reports of violence against census workers.
Despite living in a world of Facebook, blogs and reality TV, some folks just don't want the government to know what they're up to. I really don't blame them, but . . .
Got news for you.
Safeway knows more about you than Uncle Sam ever will.
At the end of my last grocery transaction, the clerk handed me a receipt and a string of coupons.
I sheepishly accepted dollars-off for wine, hot pockets and hair coloring -- items I'd recently purchased. Apparently, Safeway knows me as a bleach blond booze-hound.
Long before black helicopters descend on my front lawn, Safeway's marketing team will text me: "Go w med blnd nxt time :)".
