THE “CHOSEN” PEOPLE – Marilyn Armstrong

FOWC with Fandango — Chosen

I chose to move to Israel and become an official, passport carrying member of the Chosen People. I remember the humor that expression caused. High hilarity for the most part.

“Chosen for what?” everyone would say. “Being hunted down and murdered? Being driven from one country to the next carrying the remnants of your life in a sack on your back?”

Being “chosen” isn’t always quite as much fun as being “nobody in particular.”

The results of one round of archery competition on a target during the Warrior Games May 12, 2010. Army archers won the bronze, silver and gold medals in the recurve competition and took bronze in the compound category. The Marine Corps took silver and gold in the compound category.  (U.S. Air Force photo/Senior Airman Christopher Griffin)

I was chosen. I didn’t like it. To this day, I’m not sure what “chosen” is supposed to have meant. Maybe it’s the same as having a target painted on your back?

You know — so the haters can aim properly.



Lately, I have felt like a target. Three credit cards (all from the same bank) hacked. Lots of paperwork on fraud. A general sense that whatever I thought was “safe” before was just a myth I told myself to keep from getting crazy.

I hate this feeling. Between living under a presidency run by a madman with his finger on the nuclear buttons, hackers attacking my computer, telephone, and email scammers, and, of course, router hackers?

Do I have a target painted somewhere on me that everyone can see — except me?

We should all be able to feel at least reasonably secure in our own spaces, our homes. Our businesses. Our personal lives. We should not be waiting for the next attacker to try to lure us into danger or hack our data.

Thank you, Facebook.

You really helped the hackers and probably made a fortune doing it, too. I notice you are spending millions of dollars on advertisements which are supposed to make us “feel better” about you, but you haven’t spent a penny to help protect the people you hurt. People like me who took your hit in the first place and now wonder if anything will ever return to normal.

And most of all, thank you President Dirtbag. You have left me wondering when the next holocaust is coming to destroy what remains.

We are the TARGET.

Me. Us. Our world.