Years ago before i noticed writers' names, I read a science fiction story about a couple who ran away to escape Big Brother, or its equivalent. When they purchased food they chose things they didn't like or ordinarily buy so they couldn't be traced by their tastes - no surveillance devices at that time. Now, Big Brother, or its equivalent, makes a point of tracking people's preferences in order to lure them into greater consumption. Analysts seem to know before their targets do when people are contemplating buying a house, having a baby, going on a vacation or a diet, and tempt them accordingly, offering goods they didn't know they needed till they saw them. Perhaps we should follow the meh list - the meh list, you know, that appears in the little Magazine that appears in the Sunday New York Times Magazine. Meh is not hot and not not, just meh. Is it possible one could disappear in meh? Is mediocrity to be desired as a way of becoming invisible in plain sight? If I remain bland and colourless will I be safe from the invasion of my privacy? "Please, dear God," said The Girl in the musical of The Fantastics, "please don't let me be normal." Whatever that is.