I recently read several online articles having to do with identities on Facebook and Twitter. Personally, I’m more than a bit bemused at the notion of creating accounts with anything other than a real name or a genuine nom de plume. Of course, there are some genuine security concerns in revealing your name on the internet, but if you’re going to expose anything “personal”, shouldn’t it be associated a real person? This blog is personal in the sense that it is my writing and I don’t want anyone else getting credit (or blame!) for it so I use my real name.
I’ve written before about the incidents of Twitterrhia and Facebook overload and the angst it causes me. How could it get much worse when this blather is compounded by the fact that I don’t know the actual source? When you add in the factor of fake celebrities and ghost-writers, how in the world do I know who to trust? Of course, the simple solution is to not make friends in Facebook and not follow in Twitter; simple, but defeatist. I want these tools to work for me, not create roadblocks.
Evidently, Facebook won’t let you create an account using your legal name if it happens to be Mary Christmas or one of many variations on names with double entendres. Of course, this is done via logic inside the Facebook site and there’s nobody actually checking to confirm that a person with that name doesn’t actually exist. Now I’m all for family-friendly names but this opens the door for people to create fictitious accounts that can be used for mischievous (and sometimes vicious) purposes. Also, having the Facebook programmers determine what constitutes an inappropriate meaning is spooky enough considering the fact that the Urban Dictionary is a moving target that could completely misconstrue a name for drug dealing slang.
I have simple online needs. I want to be able to meet people without being revolted by their name. I want to follow Tweeters who post real stories about themselves, personally penned. I’d rather have people be honest rather than polished. In the end, it’s the sum of what you say, project, and post that defines who you are. And, if you can’t be honest with me in cyberspace, how can you possibly be honest with me in real life?
So, for all you pretenders, perverts, panderers, and preening poseurs, heed the words of Pete Townsend and tell me, “Who the fuck are you?”
So That's Life? 
Domo Arigato, Mr. Roboto
04/13/2009Ah, the dulcet tones of Dennis DeYoung and his pals from Styx. Who could ever forget the monumentally moronic Mr. Roboto? I doubt that even 20 consecutive gold records could wipe that stain from the memory of rock fans.
Why does this gruesome mental image come to me today? Well, my Twitter account is just about to reach the 200 follower plateau and, when reviewing the legions that have chosen to follow me, I’m struck by the large number of idiots in the mix. Don’t get the wrong impression! I don’t know any of them personally, but but upon closer inspection, it is painfully obvious why they chose to follow me. Was it because they’re friends of friends? Did they read one of my earthshaking posts and decide that they had to get 140 character versions of my every utterance? Could it even be that they saw my Twitter feed on the blog page and absolutely had to have more? No, they’ve got bots (robotic, web-surfing software applications) that have utilized their incredible artificial intelligence (AI) to select me!
Well, in this case, it will become painfully obvious to you that AI has a long way to come. What is happeneing here is that, while searching my profile with their exacting logic, they stumbled upon my name. They see Art and they assume that I’m going to be talking about fashion design, graphic design, immortal impressionists, and superior sculptors. In short, they mistake Art for art.
Much like the boys from Styx who misread the American angst over superior Japanese profits in he 1980’s, these bots have latched onto one word and dragged their owners into a Twitter stream that offers them nothing even close to their target. Instead of art, they get retort and lament instead of gold lame.
It just makes me wonder about the Tweeters out there who are so excited about reaching milestones like 500 and 1000 followers. When Styx sang, “I’m just a man whose circumstance went beyond his control”, could they have seen this coming?
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