I, Fartles von Biscuitbrain, should perhaps mention to you how I feel about the outing, though to do that I must borrow the words of an entirely different person (I swear) with the much less serious name of Ilyka Damen. But I'll warn you: She's a little sweary! I, Fartles von Biscuitbrain, am never sweary. I, Fartles von Biscuitbrain, have a reputation to protect, because I blog under my real name. Nevertheless:
And fuck all to hell you petty-minded pseudoacademics who actually believe that what some 12-year-olds say about you ONLINE is, in fact, Potentially Damaging to Your Intellectual Reputations--and that, therefore, outing is sometimes JUSTIFIED, because why should someone be able to hide behind a cowardly pseudonym and be able to say mean, mean, awful things about you without suffering any consequences, oh my sweet savior, it is so unfair, that these anonymous cowards never suffer the CONSEQUENCES?
Because you don't have a fucking coddled precious privileged clue what "consequences" are, that's why. Now grow up. Sticks and stones, etc.--if a child on the playground can learn to live with a little name-calling, so can you, you fucking douchebags.
And the next time you dare to invoke "liberty" in defense of your idiotic "Everyone Should Use His Real Name, It's Only Fair" agenda, kindly at least remember that the people who founded this country didn't always promote liberty under their own names because they had this little problem, see, this little problem where they LIKED LIVING.
And while I'm borrowing from this clearly deranged (and very uncouth) "Ilyka" person I might as well excerpt some of her remarks from Mr. Schwyzer's comment thread on pseudonymity and anonymity yesterday:
I use a pseudonym, as you probably know. My main reason for doing this is to protect myself from online harassers, and I learned last fall that even with a pseudonym, I hadn't done it well enough: Just by virtue of my naming, on my blog, the city to which I'd moved, I attracted the attention of a belligerent and threatening guy who emailed me several demands (they certainly weren't requests) to meet up. And he'd name locations with which I was familiar, which were nearby. It was frightening, but I can only imagine how much more frightened I would have been had he had my real name.
Secondary reasons for my use of a pseudonym: It protects my family's privacy; just because I want to "share" online doesn't mean they do (I also try not to write about 'em too much). Using a handle also keeps me from getting too bigheaded about myself, because my pseudonym's really just a dumb, dumb joke. It's absurd. I don't mind if my handle projects a little absurdity to others, or if others are inclined to take me less seriously because of it, because that attitude's healthy for me and maybe healthier for them, too.
I love Ann Bartow and I don't want to revive, even inadvertently, any bashing on her--but I'm really glad you provided this thread and ASKED people why they do whatever they do (use a real name, a fake one, comment anonymously), rather than assuming anything about the reasons.
Now you may be thinking, isn't it really the worst sort of vanity to blockquote yourself, Fartles? But you're only thinking that because you are confused! See, Ilyka Damen and I are distinct and separate individuals. I scarcely even know the lady! Honest!
Why's everybody looking at me like that? Can't you tell by the way we write so differently? The completely different "voice?" The way I, Fartles, unlike Ilyka, do not need to have my mouth washed out with soap? The dignity my real name projects to you, the reader?
Where Fartles (that's me!) and Ilyka (that's someone else entirely!) differ is that I am not so sure I feel so warmly towards Ann Bartow right now:
I have been made aware that Ann Bartow considers the comments I made here and here to be defamatory, and she’s asked Jill for my mailing address so that the First Amendment specialist she planned to consult could contact me.
Well, unless I apologize. Though for what, I’m not entirely sure. Because she’s not asking me for an apology, she’s asking Jill to tell me that she wants an apology.
She’s asking Jill, mind you, because she refuses to contact me directly, even though Jill has made it clear that she does not want to be the go-between. This is the same way she informed me that she’d figured out who I was.
And she has. Congratulations, Ann, you guessed right. You know who I am, and where I work. And you’ve been very clear that you don’t like pseudonymity, and you’ve been just as clear that you don’t care for me. You’ve also made it clear that you’re not above threatening to out people you don’t care for when you’re angry.
See, Fartles kinda thought all this time that outing was the sport of chumps--right-wing chumps particularly. Fartles isn't real pleased to discover that it appears to be enjoying a little more, shall we say, equal opportunity. That's no kind of progress at all, say I, Fartles von Biscuitbrain.
Fartles suggests everyone kick back with a mimosa and reflect on whether this is a good trend to reinforce, because Fartles believes that some knives cut both ways. Hey! See, that's another way you can tell Fartles and Ilyka are different: Ilyka doesn't drink mimosas. Ilyka drinks paint thinner. But I, Fartles, am a great deal more sophisticated than Ilyka. That's why she asked me to take over her blog. At least, I think she asked me. At first it sounded like "Whatta hell y'thinker doin'," but I swear I totally heard "Please take over my blog, Fartles, because it couldn't possibly sink to any lower quality, and you may even be able to improve it. Here's the login and the password; by all means, feel free to change them."
Fartles von Biscuitbrain OUT. Peace!
7 comments:
ooh, Fartles! your commentary is sooooo dignified! are you single?
Can I call you Farty? Or McFartsalot?
Can I call you Farty? Or McFartsalot?
Ah, Helen, my fetching pink-bewigged poppet, if there were anyone upon this
Earth whom Fartles might permit such an indulgence, you would be that special person.
Unfortunately, Fartles is not of Scots descent (and in fact an intemperate Scotsman once shot my great-great-great-great uncle's face off in a duel, blast him), so "McFartsalot" is right out. "Farty," meanwhile, tempts Fartles to append "McFly" to it, which not only leads us back to the damnable Scots again but induces most undignified 80s flashbacks.
Sir von Biscuitbrain will do nicely for formal occasions (I am not knighted yet exactly, but I cannot help feeling it is inevitable), and a gentle "Fartles," coming from your lovely personage like apple-blossom scent on a playful breeze, will soothe my nerves no end.
I am honored. Sir von Biscuitbrain it is (somehow, after saying that name, I expect to hear: "Three! Three Von Buiscuitbains! AH! Ah! Ah!" While thunder goes off in the background and various Muppets scurry about.)
Oh shit-by writing that does that mean I'll get sued? Or that YOU will? Oh God. Nothing to see here. Move along.
NOBODY expects the Biscuit Inquisition!
Seriously: Has this shit been crazy, or has it been crazy?
Way beyond.
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