Consider this piece of correspondence I received a few weeks back from my local elected representative: It’s a birthday card, which I guess is supposed to communicate Mr. Martin Malave Dilan’s personal connection with his constituents (never mind that this is the first I’ve ever heard of him), but instead just seems creepy. Now, granted, a DOB is about the most innocent piece of data you could have on a person after their name, but still, getting a piece of mail like this from some anonymous state senator is just an unpleasant reminder that anyone can access any information they want about me, anytime.

Given that reality, however, you’d think Mr. Dilan’s staff would also be able to figure out that English was my primary language, which would have saved them the trouble of having to translate their Hallmarky little message into Spanish and Polish as well. OK, OK, I know, it’s just a boilerplate circular that goes out to all the English-, Spanish-, and Polish-speaking birthday celebrants in my neighborhood, but don’t you think they could have asked a copyeditor to give the communique a quick once-over before sending it to the printer? I mean, c’mon—”I hope that this birthday bring you, good health, lots of love and the happiness to know that others are thinking of you”? Good grief, that sentence wouldn’t pass muster with a fifth grader. And by “others,” does he mean himself? Because I’m quite certain we’ve never met, and that he’s not only not thinking about me, but in fact doesn’t have the slightest idea that I exist. instead of impressing me with his warmth and humanity, Mr. Dilan comes off more like a stalker who would benefit from a trip to remedial school. Though I guess that’s about par for the course for most people who hold public office.