Holy Guacamole. But I'm not worried. It doesn't know my favorite pizza. Yet.
And in my case - not much fuel for password hackers to know my challenge question answers, but the fact is that
more and more info about us can be reverse engineered from our digital "tracks" to build up quite a picture.
Speaking of pictures, I was just hearing that it's possible to gather other bits, e.g., from EXIF data on Flickr, Picasa, etc., including user annotations, avatar names from forums, etc. Also mentioned was a technique of "surrounding" your IP address from the servers it interacts with over time to pin its location down. And there are a growing number of other sources - e.g., facebook (besides what most of us make public there, just start some stupid app that requires "access to your basic information" and give the app away for the info) and other social and dating sites.
The "net" result (so to speak) is that little to none of the data may compromise you on its own - but when assembled could be quite a portfolio of info about you (and your associations and patterns of associations) that could be used to hack your ID, track you and more.
Not to mention if you live in any major city and go to stores, public buildings, etc., you're being photographed many, many times per day. (In London, up to thousands of times per day, e.g.)
But for all the arguing in the larger media and here, the simple question of why THIS file exists, and what its
real intended use is hasn't yet been directly addressed by nearly anyone, especially anyone in a position to actually know.
It's not there for no reason and didn't program itself to exist. That doesn't pass any Occam's Razor or smell test. So what the hell IS the story with it??
Meanwhile, for get off the grid wishers, your moment of zen:
Transmit the message, to the receiver
Hope for an answer some day
I got three passports, couple of visas
Don't even know my real name
High on a hillside, trucks are loading
Everything's ready to roll, I, I
I sleep in the daytime, I work in the nigh time
I might not ever get home
This ain't no party, this ain't no disco
This ain't no fooling around
This ain't no mud club, or C. B. G. B.
I ain't got time for that now
This ain't no party, this ain't no disco
This ain't no fooling around
No time for dancing, or lovey dovey
I ain't got time for that now
Heard about Houston? Heard about Detroit?
Heard about Pittsburgh, PA?
You ought to know not to stand by the window
Somebody see you up there
I got some groceries, some peanut butter
To last a couple of days
But I ain't got no speakers
Ain't got no headphones
Ain't got no records to play
~David Byrne (Life During Wartime)