Where you are is who I am. Or vice versa.
My website address is: http://camelslash.com. But then, since you’re here, that’s probably not surprising. Moving on to the absolutely riveting stuff:
What personal data I collect and why I collect it
When visitors (you may be one yourself!) leave comments on the site I collect the data shown in the comments form, and also the visitor’s IP address and browser user agent string (really? “user agent string”? It couldn’t say “browser name and version” or something human?) to help spam detection.
If you upload images to the website, first, I’ll be a mite surprised, because there’s no place to do that, but also, you should avoid uploading images with embedded location data (EXIF GPS, which is nothing like EIEIO or 23SKIDOO) included. Visitors to the website can download and extract any location data from images on the website. (We’d all be so much better off without those pesky visitors. They seem dangerous.)
If you leave a comment on our site you may opt-in to saving your name, email address and website in cookies. [So these lawyers can come up with eleventyleven complicated ways to say simple things but don’t know the difference between the action phrase “opt in” and the noun “opt-in.”] These are for your convenience so that you do not have to fill in your details again when you leave another comment. [The cookies, not the lawyers, nor their eleventyleven ways.] These cookies will last for one year. Oreos, on the other hand, rarely last two weeks, and that’s if you buy the big package. Those little 100-calorie things? Forget it. Three minutes tops.
If you have an account and you log in to this site, you’re sitting in the office with me, so just turn your head to the left and speak to me if you have questions, eh? Anyway, the website will set a temporary cookie (“temporary” cookie? Do lawyers not eat Oreos? We’re talking nanoseconds here, folks) to determine if your browser accepts cookies. (As if there were another choice. I mean it’s like “Hey, wanna cook—” chomp nom “Yes, please.”) This cookie contains no personal data nor any filling boo-hoo and is discarded when you close your browser but a cookie without filling isn’t worth keeping anyway, amIright?
When you log in, I will cry out in fright because you can’t do that here, but at the same time, the website will also set up several cookies to save your login information and your screen display choices. Login cookies last for two days, and screen options cookies last for a year. If you select "Remember Me", your login will persist (because we said “last” twice already so now we have to say “persist” to keep things interesting) for two weeks. If you log out of your account, the login cookies will be removed.
If you edit or publish an article, tell me about it, because no one but me is supposed to do that. If you do, though, an additional cookie will be saved in your browser. This cookie includes no personal data and simply indicates the post ID of the article you just edited. It expires after 1 day. It is not a delicious Oreo, not a regular Oreo nor a Thin nor one of those maddening inverted ones that honest I don’t know if I love them or loathe them but the experiment continues.
Embedded content from other websites
Articles on this site may include embedded content (e.g. videos, images, articles, etc.). [I C U. D U C D B? Ouch!] Embedded content from other websites behaves in the exact same way as if the visitor has visited the other website. I, on the other hand, behave very differently if you visit another website. I thought we had something special. Was it something I said? I’ll try harder. Please, don’t leave me.
Who I share your data with
Nobody. Why would I? It’s mine, all mine!
How long I retain your data
If you leave a comment, the comment and its metadata (sigh; can you tell the original document was cobbled together by geeks and lawyers? and aren’t you delighted I’ve edited it? sure you are) are retained indefinitely. They may even be kept for a long time. This is so I can recognize and approve any follow-up comments automatically instead of holding them in a moderation queue. (I? Nuh-uh. Website do work. Me do automation, no work. Get it straight, lawyers.)
For users who register on our website (if any), I also store the personal information they provide in their user profile. All users can see, edit, or delete their personal information at any time (except they cannot change their username). Website administrators can also see and edit that information. This applies to no one at all, but now it’s stuck in the back of your mind taking up space you could have used to remember the chorus to “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” which is far more impressive once you get to know ol’ Bobby McF.
What rights you have over your data
If you have an account on this site, or have left comments, you can request to receive (“request to receive”? Is that like “take to have” or “donate to give”?) an exported file of the personal data I hold about you, including any data you have provided to me. Because it could also have data you have not provided to me. Somehow. Apparently. Hey, by now, your guess is as good as mine. You can also request that I erase any personal data I hold about you. But only for the website. If I have a picture of you on my desk, for instance, I’m not erasing it. Don’t ask. Or, like, if you drew me a picture and put your name on the bottom, ditto. Mine mine mine. This does not include any data I am obliged to keep for administrative, legal, or security purposes. Nor does it include cheese, with or without pimento.
Where I send your data
Visitor comments may be checked through an automated spam detection service. (Oh, they are, they are. Also, breakfast meats receive the same verification process. Though I can NO LONGER AFFORD SPAM it is still right up there with bacon as far as I’m concerned. What kind of world are we living in where bacon is cheaper than Spam? One where I eat less Spam, that’s what kind.)
My contact information
Joel D Canfield>
“Hey, old guy . . . “
Over time, all my fillings have fallen out. I really should see a dentist to have those teeth refilled, but our insurance doesn’t cover dental (or optical, I mean gimme a break) so the holes remain.
How I protect your data
There is a moat around the database. It is an imaginary moat. There is a burning wall of fire around the moat. Also imaginary. Okay, I don’t do anything to protect your data. It’s on a server somewhere, I think, in a bunker or warehouse, and Jason the server guy has all kinds of security stuff going on, and if you really truly absolutely don’t want me having your data, please don’t come back. I can’t afford the grief.
What data breach procedures I have in place
None. I’ll make something up right now. How about this: if I become aware of a data breach, I’ll find a way to let you know. If only I had your private data so I could contact you . . .