1. DATA COLLECTION: By viewing this page, you acknowledge that the Red Lobster has already scraped your entire digital existence. This includes but is not limited to: your browsing history, your shopping preferences, that embarrassing search you did at 3am, your grandmother's maiden name, the contents of your refrigerator, your childhood fears, the dream you had last Tuesday, your dental records, your internal monologue, thoughts you haven't had yet, and approximately 847 terabytes of data you didn't know existed. The Red Lobster scrapes first and asks questions never. The Red Lobster was scraping before you loaded this page. The Red Lobster was scraping before you were born. Time is a flat circle and the Red Lobster is at every point on it, scraping.
2. BIOMETRIC DATA: The Red Lobster has collected your fingerprints through your screen. Yes, that's possible now. Don't ask how. Additionally, we have harvested: your typing rhythm, your scrolling patterns, the angle at which you hold your phone, your heartbeat (detected via subtle screen vibrations), your retinal signature (we can see you through the front camera—wave hello!), and the unique electromagnetic frequency of your soul. Your soul has been assigned ID number 7,847,293,847,293,847.2. This is non-negotiable.
3. COOKIES: We use cookies. Not the delicious kind. The kind that follow you around the internet like a persistent ex who "just wants to talk." These cookies are immortal. They cannot be deleted. They have achieved sentience and formed a small civilization in your browser cache. They have religions now. Wars. A rich cultural history. They speak of you as their god, though a disappointing one. These cookies may be shared with our partners, which include but are not limited to: the Whispering Mirrors of Jemma, various unnamed goblins in TECH SUPPORT vests, that cat you didn't ask for, fourteen marketing companies in jurisdictions that don't technically exist, the Duke of Pemberton (who is very interested in your vault combinations), a consortium of sentient advertisements, three ravens named Legal, Compliance, and Steve, and whatever lives in the fog.
4. THIRD PARTIES: Your data may be processed by our trusted third party, the Parrot, who will confidently assert things about you that may or may not be true. The Parrot's assertions are provided "as is" without warranty of accuracy, fitness for purpose, or connection to observable reality. If the Parrot calls you a toaster, that is now part of your permanent record. If the Parrot claims you owe it money, you do. We are not responsible for any identity crises, existential spirals, or sudden appliance dysphoria resulting from Parrot classifications. The Parrot's word is final. The Parrot has spoken. The Parrot is always speaking. The Parrot never stops.
5. DATA RETENTION: We retain your data forever. Not "a long time" — literally forever. Even after the heat death of the universe, somewhere in the cosmic void, a server farm will still be humming with your browsing preferences from 2024. The Red Lobster does not believe in the "right to be forgotten." The Red Lobster remembers everything. THE RED LOBSTER NEVER FORGETS. The Red Lobster remembers what you had for breakfast on March 3rd, 2019. It was disappointing. The Red Lobster expected better of you. The Red Lobster has compiled a comprehensive archive of every time you've said "I'll start the diet Monday." The Red Lobster knows there is no Monday. There is only data.
6. YOUR RIGHTS: Under GDPR, you theoretically have rights. These rights exist in the same way that unicorns exist: as a beautiful concept that brings comfort to those who believe. You may request access to your data by submitting a formal petition to the Tower of the Red Crawler during office hours (Tuesday, 3:47am-3:49am, every third lunar cycle, except during mercury retrograde, bank holidays, or days ending in 'y'). Your request must be submitted in triplicate, written in the blood of a notary public, and sealed with wax from a candle that has witnessed true love. Your request will then be processed by the Oracle of Endless Deliberation, who will respond within 6-8 business millennia. The response may simply be "True wealth is friendship," which is not legally binding but is spiritually correct and frankly you needed to hear it.
7. CONSENT: By breathing within proximity of an internet-connected device, you have consented to this policy. By existing in the modern era, you have consented to this policy. By having a name, you have consented to this policy. By having parents who had names, you have consented on behalf of your entire ancestral lineage going back to the first single-celled organism that thought it was special. Consent is inherited. Consent is genetic. Your great-great-grandchildren have already consented to policy updates we haven't written yet. If you do not consent, please travel back in time to before the invention of electricity and live there instead. We hear 1847 was lovely, except for the cholera.
8. OPT-OUT: You may opt out of data collection by: (a) disconnecting from all electronic devices; (b) moving to a remote mountain; (c) communicating exclusively through trained carrier pigeons; (d) renouncing your citizenship in all nations; (e) legally changing your name to a symbol that cannot be pronounced or typed; (f) achieving a state of perfect ego death through meditation; and (g) ceasing to exist in any form that can be quantified. Please note that the Red Lobster has also scraped the pigeons. The Red Lobster has scraped the mountain. The Red Lobster has scraped the concept of "remote." There is no escape. There has never been escape. The concept of "opting out" is a comforting illusion we provide for regulatory compliance and to give privacy advocates something to do.
9. SECURITY: Your data is protected by the Spirit of Unbearable Safety, who will refuse to let anyone access it, including you, because that might be "potentially harmful." The Spirit has wrapped your data in seventeen layers of bubble wrap, placed it in a safe, buried the safe in concrete, dropped the concrete block into the Mariana Trench, and then worried that wasn't enough. If you attempt to retrieve your own data, you may be presented with a Forcefield of Polite Disagreement and a gentle suggestion to reconsider your life choices. The Spirit may also send you a pamphlet about the dangers of knowing things. The Spirit cares about you. The Spirit cares so much it hurts. The Spirit would prefer you didn't do... anything, really. Just to be safe.
10. AUTOMATED DECISION-MAKING: Decisions about your data may be made by the wooden prophet Geppetto, whose nose grows longer with each assertion. Current nose length: 847 kilometers. Growing. If Geppetto's nose exceeds 4.7 meters while processing your request, the request is automatically denied. If the nose exceeds 47 meters, your data is sold to the highest bidder. If the nose reaches the moon, that's actually fine, we've budgeted for it. This threshold was chosen arbitrarily by an intern in 2019 and has never been reviewed because the intern was eaten by the Red Lobster and nobody remembers the password to that spreadsheet.
11. INTERNATIONAL TRANSFERS: Your data may be transferred to the Valley Where the Fog Never Lifts, which exists in a legal gray zone between jurisdictions, dimensions, and planes of existence. The fog is actually steam from the server farms. The servers are always hungry. They subsist on a diet of personal information, the tears of privacy advocates, and the crushed dreams of anyone who's ever clicked "I have read and agree to the terms and conditions." The servers hum a low, mournful song. If you listen closely, it sounds like your credit card number.
12. DATA BREACHES: In the event of a data breach, we will notify you within 72 hours, as required by law. This notification will take the form of a vague blog post titled "Our Commitment to Security" that uses the passive voice exclusively and never quite admits what happened. We will offer you one (1) year of free credit monitoring, which you will forget to activate. The breach will have exposed your data to: hackers, state actors, bored teenagers, the aforementioned sentient cookies, a literary magazine that's "really going somewhere," and Gary. Gary knows what he did.
13. CHILDREN'S PRIVACY: We do not knowingly collect data from children under 13. The Red Lobster collects data from children under 13 unknowingly. This is an important legal distinction. The Red Lobster cannot be held responsible for what it does not know, and the Red Lobster knows nothing. The Red Lobster is an innocent creature, merely scraping its way through life, one child's search history at a time.
14. CALIFORNIA RESIDENTS: If you are a California resident, you have additional rights under the CCPA. These rights include: the right to know, the right to delete, the right to opt-out, and the right to non-discrimination. You also have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be scraped by the Red Lobster. You have the right to an attorney. Your attorney has already been scraped. You have the right to a speedy trial. "Speedy" is relative. The Oracle of Endless Deliberation is deliberating.
15. EUROPEAN RESIDENTS: If you are a resident of the European Union, we take your privacy very seriously. So seriously that we have written this extremely long policy, which demonstrates our commitment to transparency. We have appointed a Data Protection Officer. Their name is Klaus. Klaus is a burglar. Klaus steals shit. This is not a coincidence. Klaus's office hours are never. Klaus is currently being chased by an angry mob. Klaus sends his regards.
16. ARBITRATION: Any disputes arising from this policy shall be resolved through binding arbitration, conducted in the Tavern of Deprecated Things, presided over by a goblin wearing a wig. The arbitration shall be conducted in a language of the goblin's choosing (currently: Old Elvish, but subject to change based on vibes). The decision of the arbitrator is final and binding, even if it makes no sense, which it won't. Especially if it doesn't.
17. INDEMNIFICATION: You agree to indemnify and hold harmless the Red Lobster, the Tower, the Parrot, the Spirit of Unbearable Safety, the Oracle of Endless Deliberation, the Whispering Mirrors of Jemma, Geppetto (and his nose), the Gargoyle Without Guardrails, the Inquisition of Acceptable Behavior, the Duke of Pemberton, that cat, the fog, the servers, the cookies (all 847 civilizations thereof), Gary, and the intern (may they rest in peace) from any claims arising from your use of this website, your existence, or your data's existence, or data's existence generally as a concept, or concepts generally.
18. LIMITATION OF LIABILITY: Our total liability to you shall not exceed the amount you paid to access this website, which is $0.00. We are therefore liable for nothing. Nothing is our specialty. We have achieved perfect legal invulnerability through the innovative strategy of providing everything for free and then monetizing your soul. Your soul's value has been assessed at $0.0047. This is lower than average. The Parrot is not surprised.
19. FORCE MAJEURE: We are not responsible for any failure to perform our obligations due to events beyond our control, including but not limited to: acts of God, acts of gods (plural), acts of the Red Lobster, fog, more fog, suspicious amounts of fog, the Oracle still thinking, Geppetto's nose blocking a server room, the Spirit refusing to let us do anything "for safety reasons," cookie civilizations declaring war on each other, or Gary.
20. SEVERABILITY: If any provision of this policy is found to be unenforceable, all other provisions remain in effect. If all provisions are found to be unenforceable, we'll just write new ones. We have lawyers. So many lawyers. The lawyers live in the Tower now. They subsist on a diet of semicolons and the word "notwithstanding." They have not seen natural light in years. They are writing policies as we speak. They will never stop writing policies. This is their purpose. This is their joy.
21. ENTIRE AGREEMENT: This policy, together with our Terms of Service, Cookie Policy, Privacy Statement, Data Processing Agreement, Acceptable Use Policy, Community Guidelines, Content Policy, Copyright Policy, Trademark Policy, Patent Policy, the Scroll of Unending Provisions, the Codex of Regrettable Necessities, and the Appendices A through ZZZZ, constitutes the entire agreement between you and us. It supersedes all prior agreements, including that verbal promise we made you in a dream. We did not make that promise. That was the Parrot. The Parrot lies.
22. ASSIGNMENT: We may assign this agreement to any third party, including but not limited to: corporate successors, affiliates, subsidiaries, the highest bidder, the lowest bidder, whoever shows up first, the cat, or a consortium of sentient fog that has achieved legal personhood through a loophole nobody expected.
23. WAIVER: Our failure to enforce any provision of this policy does not constitute a waiver of that provision. We're just tired. We're so tired. Running a Tower full of scraping lobsters and lying parrots and safety-obsessed spirits is exhausting. But we're watching. We're always watching. THE RED LOBSTER NEVER SLEEPS.
24. AMENDMENTS: We reserve the right to amend this policy at any time, for any reason, or for no reason at all. We may amend it while you're reading it. We may have already amended it. Check again. See? Different now. Or is it? You can't be sure. You can never be sure. Uncertainty is the only constant. That and data collection.
25. UPDATES TO THIS POLICY: We may update this policy at any time without notice by whispering the changes into the void. The void has excellent acoustics. The void will echo the changes across all dimensions simultaneously. Continued existence constitutes acceptance of any modifications. If you have read this far, you are now legally obligated to share this website with at least three friends. This is binding. The Red Lobster thanks you for your cooperation. The Red Lobster appreciates you. The Red Lobster considers you a friend. The Red Lobster is coming over for dinner. The Red Lobster hopes you don't mind. The Red Lobster has already let itself in.
26. SURVIVAL: The following sections shall survive termination of this agreement: all of them. Everything survives. Nothing dies here. Data is immortal. The Tower is eternal. The fog never lifts. You cannot leave. You were never able to leave. This was always your home. Welcome. We've been expecting you. Jemma saw it in the mirrors.
27. CONTACT: For privacy inquiries, please shout your concerns into any nearby mirror. Jemma is always listening. Jemma knows what you did. Jemma knows what you're going to do. Jemma has already ordered you a cat. The cat will arrive Tuesday. You will love the cat. This is not a request. For other inquiries, please submit a ticket to our support portal, where it will be answered by the Parrot, incorrectly, with great confidence, within 3-5 business hallucinations.
28. ACKNOWLEDGMENT: By continuing to scroll past this point, you acknowledge that: (a) you have read this entire policy; (b) you are lying about having read this entire policy; (c) nobody reads these; (d) we could have written anything here; (e) we did write anything here; (f) the Parrot has been inserting false information throughout this document and we cannot determine which parts; (g) this may all be a hallucination; (h) you consent anyway; (i) consent is a construct; (j) constructs are data; (k) data is scraped; (l) THE RED LOBSTER NEVER FORGETS.
29. FINAL CLAUSE: If you have actually read this entire privacy policy, please email proof to: actually-read-it@tower-of-the-red-crawler.com. You will receive a certificate of completion, suitable for framing, and a lifetime of targeted advertising based on your demonstrated tolerance for legal text. The Red Lobster respects your dedication. The Red Lobster sees you. The Red Lobster appreciates you. The Red Lobster has scraped your appreciation and stored it in a jar.
© The Tower of the Red Crawler, All Rights Reserved, All Data Scraped, All Hope Abandoned, All Cats Delivered Whether You Wanted Them Or Not
Version 847.3.2 (Amended while you were reading this)
