Somewhere on this site is my first political post on the www. Written in 1996. Also archived here, I believe, is the story of why “my password” to my “paid” position to HTML some mild rebuke to Bush 43 was consistently being changed by a mid-level tech who didn’t share my political views. That was in 2001.

After 9-11 I wrote the following.

Terror Is Politics Found

a phone found me
a friend rang
run to the news she said
it’s raining people

thank God no camera
was close up
yet my imagination
had Hubble-like zoom

with Tower two my heart
fell
with Tower one
the constitution

thousands of people
plundered
ten thousand lives
jump cut

and my instant prayer
unedited
went not to a soul
just departed

my missive to
anything
Holy
begged for our children’s
children

damn politics

but if you do that
politics will

damn you

with Tower two my heart
fell

with Tower one
the constitution


Soon thereafter, I was off the public web for an extended period. I posted poems in private forums. Or shared politics behind small gated communities. I didn’t post often and I didn’t stay long as there was always another platform that had yet to be poisoned by the politics of the day. Back then, switching venues and a silly ass nom de plume seemed antidote enough.

Now if you have read my stuff on this site for any reasonable length of time you may have noticed that I hint at a back story having personal and practical implications to how my political leanings evolved. Real skin in the game. Which isn’t to suggest that others don’t. Even the most academic discussion about liberty and responsibility often turns on the visceral. And that’s fine. The Public Square can get hot. It’s understandably human.

And so is the attitudinal freedom which comes with the anonymity
of a Citizen X practicing that long recognized civility of utilizing a pen name when promoting one’s understandings of what may be best for the collective. It’s a petty deceit in the hopes of being persuasive.

But felonious is the faction that feels the nom de plume punk and limp wrist when a bitch slap to the core of the Commons is what’s needed to give strength to the Volk .

The strongman, in fact or in spirit, makes politics with an adopted nom de guerre. Data and details are battlefields to be prepared and repositioned, or prisoners to be taken.

Any and all compromise will be considered aid and comfort to the enemy; real, imagined, or your next door neighbor. Facts will be fragged and shown to be easily fractured.

The nets will swarm with trolls, true believers, snitches, manufactured glitches, and opportunist playing all sides. That’s pretty much the way it’s always been. But then, the internet  was The Wild Wild West. Now it’s the opening of the Western Front.

Ya’ll have a good war.

Regards,
(Insert Nom de Plume here)

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