KEY POINTS:
Why is Act MP Heather Roy getting her knickers in such a twist over plans to include a microchip in the planned new senior citizens' discount card? As one fast approaching the so-called golden age, I'm more than grateful for any memory aid on offer and a card that contains basic details such as my name, date of birth and bath-night to accompany me into the forgetful years sounds wonderful.
If it could be trained to whisper first names when I meet old acquaintances, so much the better.
The only problem I can see is remembering to carry it with me. Of course that could be solved by offering the option of an implant.
A trip to the vet with your pet dog, perhaps, for a joint operation, two for the price of one.
There was a time when I might have fussed, like Mrs Roy, about possible invasions of privacy. But approaching dotage, and having come through medical probing of orifices one didn't know existed, privacy becomes a relative term. In the trade-off between privacy and convenience, I'm happy to take my chances with the latter.
My criticism of the senior discount card has nothing to do with whether it carries the confidential information on a magnetic strip, like most modern plastic cards, or inside a microchip. It's that it will add yet another card to the infuriatingly large library of plastic already clogging up my wallet. I have nine, which is a very modest collection compared with the concertina full of cards some of my friends have to flop out everytime they make a purchase.
My dream would be for a universal card or chip, on to which my bank and the library and the supermarket and AA ( that's the car club) and the like, could each add or attach their individual information. Something akin to the universal remote control on offer for home electronics.
Ideally, it would also unlock and start my car, open my front door at home and switch off the burglar alarm.
It would contain a key to my medical details as well, along with extras like wanting to be a body parts donor. When I'm rushed to the emergency ward at Auckland City Hospital, it would be reassuring to know basic information that might help save my life was easily accessible. Who knows, it might even ensure I didn't lose my right arm by mistake when admitted to have my left leg off.
A couple of years ago, the US Food and Drug Administration approved the implantation of a rice-size computer chip into humans. The "VeriChip," which is the same as one implanted into millions of pets worldwide, contains no medical records, just codes that can be scanned and used by medical professionals to unlock a secure database containing health details.
The same chip can also be used as the sort of universal remote I proposed earlier.
Critics worry about the security implications. But it's not as though micro-chip technology is any more insecure than the mess of passwords and swipe card systems that now rule our lives.
Talking dogs and implants, hands together for Manukau City Mayor Sir Barry Curtis in declaring the only good pitbull is a dead one. His city, with 1500 registered pitbulls and pitbull-crosses and up to 1500 unregistered ones, has the largest pitbull population in the country. He says they're like lions and tigers walking the streets and he wants every one put down.
For a local politician, it's brave talk at any time. In election year, doubly so.
He told the Eastern Courier the sight of these dogs straining on their leads was "enough to put fear in the minds of young and old" and that as no other body had the "political fortitude" to outlaw them, he would lead the charge.
To put that many votes at risk is a brave move. But maybe he's calculated that most pitbull owners are so anti-social they don't vote. Maybe he's retiring. Whatever, Sir Barry deserves our support. These dogs are designed to kill. They have a short fuse and are bred to bite hard and shake their victim like a shark. If he were to stand in Auckland City, I'd vote for him on this policy alone.
