Back in October, 2005 then-president Bush held a press conference. The backdrop: Katrina had washed away any remaining vestige of his credibility. The Meiers' nomination had been withdrawn. Fitzgerald was honing in on Rove and Libby. Tom DeLay faced conspiracy and money-laundering charges in Texas. Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist's stock transactions were being scrutinized by federal prosecutors and the Securities and Exchange Commission. The war on [fill in the blank] was not going well. The writing was on the wall.
Bush dismissed the growing chorus of criticism, saying:
There is some background noise here, a lot of chatter, a lot of speculation and opining.
I chose the name 8ackgr0und n015e because I believed he was wrong. I believed the background noise would swell and sweep the corrupt bastards away as surely as Katrina had swept away the "mandate" they claimed to have. History vindicated me. Now we have severed the political arm of the beast, the game has changed and so has my name.
We know where we've been, but we don't know where we're going.
We know it will be tough and long and slow and painful.
Preparing for this long slog requires a review of resources.
I've decided to travel light and ditch the baggage.
Instead of representing a growing voice of opposition,
I think it is more appropriate to simply be another faceless digital citizen.
This begins with ditching the name.
Once upon a time there was a magical belief that if you knew the "true name" of something or someone, you would have the power to control them. In the atomic world that might be true. In the electronic world, you would be mything the point if you held on to that fanciful notion.
Names are important online for three main reasons. First, they allow you to maintain a continuity of identity. Second, they allow others to use you as a reference if they are inclined to make a rhetorical appeal to authority. Third, they allow people to find you if they want to contact you. Beyond that, they serve no useful function. The last two functions flow from the first, so if you can maintain continuity of identity -- who cares what your name is?
Meet the new scribe, same as the old scribe.
You can call me Henry Porter.
Of course, some hold great store in names. Even if they are fictional. Look at how much strum and drang is being generated around the fictional character, John Galt. I suspect such people will cling to their outmoded ideas long after they have turned to dust. Eventually, even they will look elsewhere. With that in mind, I felt Henry Porter -- an All-American Everyman of indeterminate origin -- was perfect.
"The only thing they really knew about Henry Porter
was that his name really wasn't Henry Porter." |