011000110110110001100101011101100110010101110010 01100111011010010111001001101100 anyways?
An ex that wants to know what you've been up to, your grocery mega-mart so they can sell you want you don't know you need yet, that fellow on the phone with a funny accent (anyone smell vodka) who says he's from your credit card company and know's you're on vacation pumping gas in your pretty, new GM vehicle so he must be for real but is now asking your pin number so he can prove he's speaking to the right person, your dear old uncle Sam who just wants to check up on you, or your boss who swears that he saw you at the club but can't say anything because he shouldn't have been there either and while he now has proof of where you were, is driving the '12 model with newly activated service.
But hey, I'm outraged that they are going to track me only when I discontinue service. They shouldn't have told me this because now it's gonna take a senator or three, several committees, and many hours of CSPAN to make me feel better that they are only tracking me always, and only with my knowledge and permission. Poor poor guppies.