Robert Leroy Johnson (May 8, 1911 – August 16, 1938) was an American blues singer-songwriter and musician. His landmark recordings in 1936 and 1937 display a combination of singing, guitar skills, and songwriting talent that has influenced later generations of musicians. Johnson’s shadowy and poorly documented life and death at age 27 have given rise to much legend. One Faustian myth says that he sold his soul to the devil at a local crossroads of Mississippi highways to achieve success. As an itinerant performer who played mostly on street corners, in juke joints, and at Saturday night dances, Johnson had little commercial success or public recognition in his lifetime.
Smart TV sets are listening to every word being said in front of them. Also do other smart devices that do take action or give you information based on voice input. These device don’t differentiate between a private conversation or a voice comment for them to take action upon. They will capture all nearby sound and conversations.
Also these devices tend to capture other information, like the music you listen to, movies you watch, could figure out when you are at home, do your dishes, go to bed, have sex….
All information so collected, including sensitive data, is then sent to servers and shared between the brand who produces the device as well with third-party services who do the data analyses.
To refrain: all your spoken words, conversations, include personal or other sensitive information, that information will be among the data captured and transmitted to a third parties, where you have absolute no control what happens with the data.
How would you feel if, day and night, there where a few strange people in you house listening to everything you said. And do with that information whatever they want to do with it. That would be an awkward situation, nobody would like to deal with.
I think its smarter to refrain from using smart devices, until they deal in a decent way with privacy.
I need to be alone. I need to ponder my shame and my despair in seclusion; I need the sunshine and the paving stones of the streets without companions, without conversation, face to face with myself, with only the music of my heart for company. —Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer