A reckless, caution-to-the-wind weekend with me means spending at least half an hour sitting in the park at the Marietta Square staring at the fountain. Yes, I'm out of control! However a weekend or two ago in the park I learned something about how I've changed in the past three or four years. With advances in technology and You Tube, maybe we all have.

Driving in I saw a couple of guys wandering around with a video camera that was better than consumer grade, but not pro grade, either. Not too long ago Prime Time had been on the Square doing a hidden camera report on how people will not step in to stop an assault, so I thought maybe it was them. John Quinones was not in sight, however. Seeing how incredibly Osmond-ish the guy with the microphone looked, my next guess was "church video."

I took my spot on the bench and after awhile here came the video guys. "Mind if we ask you a couple of questions?" I pulled my T-shirt up over my face and said, "No! I don't want to be on You Tube!" You Tube has become the new pillory (see photo), where your slightest misstep will be posted for public assessment. Then you get seven pages of verbal stoning from people who show complete ignorance regarding spelling, punctuation, capitalization and grammar, to add insult to injury. I had no interest in being fodder for these guys' next upload. They chuckled, probably thinking I seemed just a little skittish, and moved on to their next target.

Either age or You Tube has changed me, I realized. Three or four years ago I would have come up to them and asked to be in their video, asked about their gear, who they were working with, etc. Now I just wanted to be invisible. All I could imagine was either being ridiculed on You Tube, or being included in some "look at the freaks" video where I would be edited to look like an asshole.

As I eavesdropped on them approaching their next targets I heard what their couple of questions were. "What's good about church? Is there anything bad about church?" Man, can I call `em or what?! I knew their youth choir leader, "I don't allow the devil music of Christina Aguillera in my home" looks signaled Sunday school propaganda video directors. Since I had my Henry Rollins wanna-be clothes on they were probably aching to get some obvious irreligious heathen like me before their lense. They wouldn't take my replies and leave it at that, they would take offense and try to argue with me, then edit me out of the video entirely, or take a momentary lull in my thoughts and edit it to 10 minutes. From the other end of the park I saw the "reporter" still looking back at me, probably melancholy that I was "the one that got away."

They were lucky I'm scared of You Tube.

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