Mylennium’s new Digital Estate Assessment is available at https://www.mylennium.com/digital-estate-assessment. It easily and quickly helps people understand their digital footprint, so they can determine and plan how they want digital assets handled when they pass on.
The new Digital Estate Assessment, which is available on the Mylennium website at https://www.mylennium.com/digital-estate-assessment, asks respondents to check a series of boxes indicating whether a statement is applicable or inapplicable across four categories: personal digital assets, financial digital assets, professional digital assets, and technical digital assets. Examples of statements include:
· “I use email to communicate with family, friends, and business.”
In total there are 33 statements across the above-noted four categories, and completing the assessment takes approximately five minutes. Once finished, respondents enter their email address, click “finish,” and instantly receive a .PDF report via email that:
· Highlights all of their responses so they can confirm accuracy, as well as forward the report as desired.
Respondents are not asked to provide any personal or sensitive data, and Mylennium does not disclose email address lists or other information to any third parties.
“Helping people understand their digital footprint, and the undesirable things that can happen to their digital assets, is a key benefit offered by our Digital Estate Assessment,” commented Russ Haft, the Founder and Chief Digital Executor of Mylennium, which has been featured in The New York Times. “With this information in hand, they’ll be better equipped to have a meaningful conversation with family members and an estate planning professional about the value of their digital assets, and how they want each asset handled when they pass on.”
As noted above, Mylennium’s new complimentary online Digital Estate Assessment is available on the company’s website at https://www.mylennium.com/digital-estate-assessment.
For all other information, including media requests and inquiries from estate planning professionals, contact email@example.com.
Mylennium creates personalized digital estate plans that document how individuals would like their digital assets handled by a personal representative upon their death or incapacity. Mylennium was founded in 2015 by Russ Haft to bring traditional estate planning into the digital age. Mylennium also provides Digital Executor Consulting Services to support fiduciaries in their efforts to locate, manage, and settle digital assets in a decedent or incapable person’s estate. For more information, please visit www.mylennium.com.
We make mundane daily decisions about children’s sleep, food, and clothing. One of the small but longest-lasting parenting decisions may be how much we share about our children. Unless you’re a blogger writing a column about your child in the local newspaper, the most likely place to create a digital heirloom for your child is social media.
The digital heirloom probably includes photos and videos. Kudos to you, if you’ve pulled this one off, and extra points, if you’re printing out photo books as keepsakes. I’ve got two caches of photos—for a while I stashed them on a hosting site and I printed books, though that habit of creating books only lasted about two years. I’ve got another set on Facebook. Oh, yeah, and a third set stored primarily on my phone, where they are automatically backed up. If our daughter gets interested in pictures from childhood, which seems likely, I hope I can patch together a good biography.
Some people are bothered when other people post pictures of their children, especially with tags that identify them. Some are even annoyed when the child’s own grandparents post pictures, for fear of pedophiles or other criminals, or feeling that the poster violated a private moment inside a home. In researching this column, I read about “an unwritten rule of parenting that you don’t post pictures of other people’s children.” I haven’t heard of that rule and would have to scroll through my own history to see if I’ve been violating it.
Far-thinking parents try to rein in their child’s online identity by grabbing online names on sites like Twitter and Facebook and then prohibiting pictures of children or limiting the pictures to ones which wouldn’t be embarrassing or humiliating down the road. To me, it’s very challenging to determine what could be fodder for a bully or a teaser in 10 years—in my own childhood they were amazingly innovative and could even makes jokes about common American middle names—but it’s worth considering.
Then there’s the “words” part of a digital legacy. This one is more fraught with concern for many parents. How much should we be sharing about our kids for both safety and privacy?
Sometimes my daughter hangs out with me while I scroll through my Facebook news feed on our huge home monitor, where she can easily read over my shoulder. Should she be seeing what other parents post about her friends?
When we post, even if it’s banal, should we be using our children’s names? When we do so, we’re leaving behind a digital footprint that may live on indefinitely. I’ve partially addressed this by not using her first name online. Surely that’s not foolproof, but it seems like a logical step to take and one that a few friends employ. Perhaps it’s a tiny hedge against “bad guys” out to hurt kids or a hedge against embarrassment with future friends or even potential employers.
I often notice that it’s easy to feel uneasy in this new territory. Digital habits are one of the more difficult areas to navigate for ourselves, and now we need to guide our children as well.
In January 2015, security researcher and beloved, prolific geek Michael “Hackerjoe” Hamelin died in a head-on collision that also hospitalized his widow, Beth Hamelin.
Hackerjoe had not done anything to prepare for his unexpected death, and he had an exceptionally complex tangle of IT systems and obligations that no one else was prepared to run — or even rescue.
As the widowed Beth Hamelin recovered from her own injuries, she was faced with the task of untangling Michael Hamelin’s affairs, which ranged from the data needed to pay the household bills to the crypto-keys to access the family photographs and archives, to the authentication tokens and knowledge necessary to gracefully wind down the many hosting/IT businesses he ran without leaving his customers in the lurch.
Andrew Kalat — a close friend of the Hamelins and an IT expert himself — stepped in to help, booting Hamelin’s systems with “crash-carts,” begging companies like Apple, Facebook, Twitter and Goolge to let him recover Hamelin’s data, and trying (unsuccessfully) to recover the keys to unlock the Hamelin family’s personal memories. As of the time of the talk, all of the Hamelins’ photos were considered unrecoverable.
Kalat’s talk is a brilliant example of the premise that “we can’t make back doors than only good guys can get through.” When Hamelin hardened his systems against the attackers who might target him or his customers, he also hardened it against his loved ones.
I wrote about the “Internet of the Dead” in 2012, when my good friend Erik “Possum Man” Stewart, also a prolific and eclectic hacker, died unexpectedly in his sleep and I tried to help his family rescue a little of his digital legacy.
That incident prompted me to create my own digital death plan, which, now that I think of it, is woefully out of date, and, having seen Kalat’s presentation, I realize is also inadequate.
I like Kalat’s proposal that once a year, couples should switch household roles, each paying the bills and taking care of the paperwork the other deals with, just to “stress test” your family’s preparedness for these terrible, unexpected calamities — to make your family a system that fails well, as well as working well.
Most hackers have a massive digital footprint: social media, servers at co-location sites, servers at home, overly-complicated IT infrastructure, and various other IT gear connected in crazy ways. What happens when one of us suddenly dies? How do our loved ones pick up the pieces, figure out all of our random IT crap that we’ve setup, and move forward? This talk explores the challenges, opportunities, and lessons learned as I aided in figure out the IT gear after the passing of a dear friend to the hacking community, HackerJoe, aka Michael Hamelin. I will share details of the challenges Michael’s widow and I faced, how we overcame them, and advice to better prepare your loved ones if you were to suddenly shake off the mortal coil…
Remember Britannia High? 2008 UK’s answer to Fame? The just-before-primetime ITV song-and-dance debacle that was axed after one series? They were great days. The show, of course, was a complete disaster, both on a creative, commercial, in fact, every possible level.
But if you examine audition footage of Britannia High on YouTube maybe you’ll start to wonder if the whole thing could have been rescued, had the show only made different casting decisions. Here, for instance, is a great singer who didn’t make the cut.
In case you couldn’t be bothered to watch the clip above, the “great singer” auditioning for Britannia High is Ed Sheeran.
Now it’s funny isn’t it—you never read Ed Sheeran talking too much about his attempt to become the next Darcey Bussell when he was launching the career we know and love today. It was all “SBTV” this, “Wiley and Sway” that.
Ed Sheeran isn’t alone in suffering from selective career amnesia. When Haim stomped towards the top of the BBC Sound Of 2013 poll, they weren’t regaling the media with tales of the time two Haim sisters starred in absurd teen pop band Valli Girls, notable for tunes like “It’s a Hair Thing.” Tahliah Barnett isn’t big on telling the world about the time, years before she was FKA Twigs, when she appeared as a dancing carwash attendant in a Dionne Bromfield video.
Pop’s always been full of these Sliding Doors moments, but in the digital age it’s hard for an act to remove evidence of their pasts. Hard, but not impossible. Last year, at the behest of the Court of Justice of the European Union, Google implemented a “right to be forgotten” procedure. It’s a way for people to get pages removed from Google searches, the logic being that if you get caught having a wank on the bus when you’re 22 and Metro decide to publish a LOL news story about it, it’s reasonable to hope that a potential employer won’t find out about it when you’re 28.
For musicians, swap out “potential employer” for potential fans, potential record labels, and potentially keen journalists. And for “having a wank on a bus” insert “making terrible music and videos,” and consider Sam Smith. Prior to a career jump-start from Disclosure he was just another pop hopeful with a really helpful mother. Unfortunately long before Grammy wins, Bond themes, and household name status, he was busy recording and releasing songs like “Bad Day All Week.” “Bad Day All Week” was the opposite of a good song, and it was accompanied by an arse-clenchingly awful video.
Usually there would be a video embed instead of this paragraph, right? That’s how journalism works in 2015.
But the video just isn’t online any more—it disappeared from YouTube, and these days seems to be swiftly dealt with if it does reappear. Similarly many of Sam’s pre-fame tweets, in which he alluded to his sexuality and obsessive Gaga fan status, have also disappeared.
In the US, prior to becoming Kanye’s current protégé, Kacy Hill was a model in a controversial (aren’t they all) American Apparel campaign, and eyebrow-raising ads don’t sit well alongside the singy-songwritey image she’s now putting forward. Naturally, those shots aren’t mentioned in her official bio—which is what many journalists will work from when writing about her—but it also looks like her lawyers have been trying to get those shots unlisted by Google. Kacy now seems to own the copyright in those images so takedowns should be successful to a degree, but what about Sam Smith’s deleted tweets, which can no longer be embedded but whose words live on, copied and pasted in pages like this?
“People do own the copyright in their own tweets,” says Twitter’s Bruce Daisley. “Strictly speaking there would be grounds to make a claim, but generally we see that when people are asked politely to remove those things, they tend to comply.” Those tweets could also fall under fair use, which circumvents copyright when it comes to commentary and news reporting. In any case, Daisley has another word of caution for any artists thinking of getting lawyers involved. “I do wonder,” he says, “if going to law on it might go a bit ‘Streisand’.”
He’s referring to the Streisand effect, a phenomenon so well known that it has its own Wikipedia page but which bears repeating here because it’s funny. In 2005 a photographer took 12,000 photographs of the California coastline in order to document coastal erosion. It seems fair to assume he couldn’t have given two shits about Barbra Streisand but one of those 12,000 pictures contained Streisand’s home, resulting in a lawsuit from Babs. The picture had been downloaded a grand total of six times before Barbra kicked up a fuss; four times if you don’t count downloads by Barbra’s lawyers. In the month following the well publicized lawsuit, almost half a million people visited the site.
“The risk of trying to take down old music, or old videos is not only that you will never get rid of them all, but also that you risk highlighting a problem and thus creating a story out of that,” agrees one music publicist who’s helped massage the profiles of various “new” artists. “I’d advise people in this situation to just try and own it—the more you try to hide something, the bigger deal people think it is, and the bigger a story it becomes. It’s definitely better to just own it and move on.”
Internet privacy expert Frank M Ahearn, whose books include How to Disappear: Erase Your Digital Footprint, Leave False Trails, is similarly wary of asking sites to remove content. “The website could post that you requested removal and it could go viral again,” he agrees. “Some celebrity clients I have worked for have done some embarrassing work in the past and once they make it, they want to turn back clock and rid the world of the past. But it is extremely difficult. The internet is like the tide; information and photos come and go. What you delete today can easily creep up tomorrow.”
Ahearn adds that Google’s measures are “useless” when VPNs and other search engines exist, and when asked to consider Sam Smith’s predicament he suggests an elaborate smokescreen. “If you are famous, sometimes I suggest to clients to leave it, let it ride it course and hope it dies a digital death,” he says. “Alternatively, we begin creating disinformation that Sam Smith from London Shoe Store tweeted the information, and then I build blogs where the fake Sam takes responsibility for the information. It does not always work but sometimes it creates doubt and other tweeters and bloggers assist disseminating the doubt.”
Despite the risks, there’s still a chance nobody will notice the disappearance of content, so there’s strong temptation to quietly remove content you have access to in your own sites and social channels—particularly if you’re trying to launch your music via a media industry that exists on layer upon layers of tastemaker approval.
The singer in one act currently hoping for a place on the 2016 tips lists said they’d talk to Noisey if we didn’t blow their cover, which under the circumstances seems fair enough. The rough story, though, is that their current offering is fairly leftfield and requires tastemaker support in order to get traction, but a couple of years ago they were in a markedly less credible band that had been formed by a titanically uncool management company.
“There is a cloud over my head,” they admit to Noisey. “I’m worried it could all come back and bite my ass. I suppose it’s like if you walked into someone’s bedroom to pick up a phone charger and saw that they had a whip and handcuffs. It’s not necessarily that I’m self conscious of it myself—it’s just that it could be detrimental to my current goals. Which is dumb, but whatever.”
Does it seem unfair how there’s now an expectation that all artists should get it right first time? It feels like experimentation is being penalised, in a way. “It is unfair, I think,” they agree. “People do things that don’t work. I don’t see why it should be a problem. I was 18 and my personal music was in a rut—I had no idea how anything worked in the industry so I took the plunge. I learnt a lot in that time, but then I started again on a new journey that, hopefully, I’ll get right this time.”
It’s important to state that this new artist isn’t being paranoid about how their previous exploits might affect their future chances. “With new artists, everything needs to be perfect,” says James Penycate, a digital communications expert whose work has included launching artists like Tom Odell, Tove Lo and Ghostpoet. “We all know how difficult it is to sell an act through Radio 1. To catch the attention of their key decision makers you need numerical or statistical proof that you have an engaged audience or the potential for one, but just as importantly you need a true avalanche of support from tastemakers. This whole subject boils down to authenticity.”
It might seem strange at a point when credible publications are falling over each other to tell the world how much they like the new Justin Bieber album but when it comes to a new act, rightly or wrongly (mainly wrongly), the sense that an artist has changed direction implies that their current incarnation is somehow false. Reasonable people might say that having a chicken sandwich for lunch yesterday doesn’t necessarily mean the soup you ate today is suspicious or unconvincing, but to the media a change in direction can look calculating or manufactured.
The fear, Penycate says, is that an act will get to the point where they need everyone on side (and many acts are at that point right now, with tastemakers currently voting in next year’s new artist polls) only for something awful to be revealed. “It could completely derail your campaign,” he explains. “The laughable thing is: do consumers really care? I don’t know if they do. Does the media care? Yes. That’s the problem.”
But as long as the media continues its obsession with credibility, and as long as massaging past exploits works, it’ll remain the norm. Last year’s BBC Sound Poll winners were Years & Years. During 2014 they made all the right moves in terms of engaging tastemakers: small gigs, an EP release, a featured vocal on a dance track. But before that all took place, they’d deleted early work from online accounts.
“When we first started making music we just put everything online,” Olly from the band says today. “Obviously no one gave a shit so it didn’t matter that there was random music and video floating about. When we did eventually get management as a result of those videos the first thing they said was ‘take everything offline’. This was meant to make us more appealing to potential labels. We were pretty happy to do it—it felt good to wipe the slate clean and put our best foot forward.”
Years & Years had gone through lineup changes and their music had also developed in style and quality, but they didn’t take absolutely everything offline immediately, and early videos remained online. When they signed to Polydor, even those went. “At that stage we all decided that the stuff we’d put online didn’t reflect who we were as a band anymore,” Olly explains. “We felt that if this was going to be the first time for most people to hear about us, we wanted people to see what we thought represented us best.”
When direct and honest communication with fans is so important, doesn’t this seem slightly dishonest? Olly reckons not. “I don’t think it’s being dishonest—people’s first impressions of you are really important so you wanna get that right. If we were going on a first date I wouldn’t be showing you pictures of how I was a little chunky and had a mullet a few years ago. To be honest some of our more hardcore fans have found old links or downloaded all that stuff. Nothing’s really erased on the internet anymore, right?”
It’s not only new artists who choose to sidestep portions of their careers. And sometimes the media, instead of having the wool pulled over their own eyes, are complicit in nurturing a selective narrative. It’s interesting how little is made of Beyoncé’s confusing mid-period between Destiny’s and “Crazy In Love.” The hugeness of her current success eclipses the role in Austin Powers that gave Beyoncé her first solo hit single. Likewise, chaos theorists could have a field day speculating what might have happened had Destiny’s Child never recorded a shit single in 1998 with Corrie mechanic-turned-hopeless-popstar Matthew Marsden:
That song came out through Columbia in 1998, but over on another Sony imprint in the same year, Northwestside boss Nick Raphael was securing a guest vocal from Beyoncé’s future husband. And so it was that Jay Z released a single with boyband Another Level.
“Rappers have made guest appearances for pop records for the last 30 years,” Nick Raphael recalls today. “It adds another dimension to the recording. At the time, outside America Jay was a credible, but niche artist—not the Jay-Z we know today.”
Raphael states that Jay has nothing to be embarrassed about musically (“he’s one of the greatest artists of all time”); these days Raphael is president of Capitol Records, home to Sam Smith among others, and he insists that a dodgy history doesn’t come into play when he and his longterm A&R associate Jo Charrington are looking at new artists.
“Very few artists strike upon their eventual paths immediately,” he reasons. “If artists don’t experiment, how will they find their true voice? When Jo and I sign an artist we judge the music they are presenting to us now. If their past behavior will affect their future success we have to bear that in mind—but it’s not a decision we’d base on their previous works.”
The same can’t necessarily be said for how the media look at things, and many artists—from Years & Years and Sam Smith to the likes of Lana Del Rey, Katy Perry, and Drake—have all benefitted from diverting attention away from their earliest work. Right now the music industry is built on quick and dirty experimentation and fast pivots if something doesn’t work out, with each incarnation of an artist’s endeavour leaving a digital footprint. And it’s still a headache for the anonymous hopeful we met earlier, who tells Noisey: “I’ve removed things from my personal accounts and deleted what I can, but it’s an ongoing effort to conceal a cheesy couple of years from influential people.”
Still, while he can’t speak for those in the media who obsess over artists’ perceived indiscretions, Nick Raphael offers some encouraging advice to any artist currently worrying about skeletons in cupboards. “Your history makes you more interesting to your fans,” he says. “Embrace who you are.”
Do you “live” online? Who doesn’t? Whether you’re online for personal or business purposes, you have a digital footprint, and this online presence has needs of its own. In 2013, McAfee conducted a survey to try and determine the value of our digital legacy and digital assets. The results of the survey showed, the on average our online footprint carried a value of approximately $35,000 (in 2013 – no doubt more now).
Those who blog know their blog has personal value inherent in the sharing of knowledge, but what of the fiscal value of this digital asset? Is there a way to calculate the value of a blog? Yes, there is. “Blog Calculator” has created a nifty algorithm which generates a hypothetical value of your blog. The calculator asks a number of questions, which once answered does it’s magic and pops out a blog’s value.
While the answer provided by this site’s algorithm may be subjective, and open to interpretation (like the value of your car or home), it serves to demonstrate your blog is a digital asset with intrinsic value. Therefore, like any other asset, you have to consider the disposition of the asset should you become incapacitated or die.
1 – Disposition of your blog
The first decision to make is whether or not you want to keep the blog up and running if you are unable to do so yourself due to illness, accident or you’ve passed. Even if you desire this portion of your digital legacy to be shuttered, you should put forward a plan for your trusted designee to follow.
2 – Your designee
Selecting someone to handle things for you is no small task. Here at Red Folder, we recommend the designee be an individual with whom you have a great deal of trust. As they will be following through with your choices concerning the disposition of the blog.
Those who blog, and there are millions of you (e.g., 75+ million using WordPress according to Yoast) know that the administrative tail to your endeavor is long. Your instructions to your designee should contain the names of any blog-partners you currently have as well as guest bloggers, contributors or other site owners.
In addition, including the administrative permissions associated with your blog, unique to your hosting service, such as access credentials, two-step authentication, challenge questions should also be memorialized.
You will also want to detail, any monetary arrangements which involve the blog, is the blog syndicated, have advertising revenue or associated with affiliate programs. And you don’t want to forget to provide access to the social media accounts associated with the blog – Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Google+, etc. These too are a part of your digital legacy.