I hate George Eastman and his darn cameras. Although French scientist Joseph Nicéphore Niépce is credited with inventing the first camera in 1826, Eastman was the person who you could say “developed” the first commercially successful camera in 1888. Some people called his invention a “roll film box” but Eastman called it Number One Kodak and its successors have tormented me my entire life.

To get photos from Eastman’s camera, you had to send the camera containing the film to Rochester, N.Y., where the film was developed, prints made, the camera was loaded with new film and returned to you along with your photos. So, you can understand why the sighting of a camera back then was a rare occurrence. Fast forward to today and you can hardly turn around without having your picture taken. For an ugly guy like me who has always hated having his picture taken, you can imagine why I spit on the grave of George Eastman.

The eyes are everywhere. Cameras take your picture if you run through an orange/reddish light and the cops send you a ticket in the mail. A guy can’t even go into Victoria’s Secret to buy a birthday present for his wife without being watched by a camera. You can’t even run through your own house half naked after leaving your manure-stained clothes in the mud room as you head for the shower without someone taking your picture that will appear on someone’s YouTube page and get a million views.

Sure, I know that all these cameras leering at us can be used for good. I know that Ring cameras have been used to track assassins and arsonists and you can see who is stealing your Amazon packages from miles away, but I’m not sure the benefits outweigh the loss of our freedom and privacy.

I’ve been in embarrassing predicaments before and I’m sure you have too where the last thing you wanted was to have someone catch a “Kodak Moment.” Like the time I got bucked off the kid’s horse. They even have cameras now in the halls of hospitals and I dread being photographed by some peeping Tom while I’m wearing one of those hospital gowns with the gaping hole in the back.

How many prints do you want of you having your arm fully inserted into a cow’s rectum? Or dragging a calf to the fire? Or trying to eat one of those six patty hamburgers? I was in the Farm Supply the other day trying to find a new jacket for my wife and I held a frilly one up to my chest to see how big it was and I’m quite confident someone snapped a photo of me trying on women’s wear that they’ll use to blackmail me.

The main thing I worry about is being caught on camera doing something that will land me in the hoosegow. I’m not talking about robbing a bank but what if I’m caught on film standing next to shady characters like my congressman, banker or a cow buyer? Will the EPA fine me if some eye in the sky takes a photo of me accidentally spilling a thimble full of diesel on the ground or peeing on an endangered tree when I’m far from the nearest facilities?

I fear the day when I’m using the Porta Potty at a bull sale and one of my traitorous traveling comrades sees the opportunity for a photo op so he opens the door and catches me with my pants down around my ankles and he says, “Say Cheese.” And that photo will be on TMZ or all over the internet by nightfall.