". . . the most honest relationship I've ever had . . . the only thing I'd lied about was my name." -Steve Martin, "Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid"

"Who am I?" The primordial question of philosophy, and one that is all the more ambiguous in this age where information overload meets the comforting blanket of anonymity. If I said I was a Professor Emeritus, hacking away at a blog on ideas that my name does not need to be professionally attached to, would you have reason to believe me? If I said I was a college dropout contemplating the mysteries of life from behind the deep fryer, would it make what I say any less valid or significant? I could say I was Benjamin Franklin, back from the dead, and my identity could be no more objectively verifiable.

In this forum, who I am matters less than what I say. In a country where half of the population disbelieves the 97% of college-educated scientists who say climate change is human-caused, and journalists such as Malcolm Gladwell and Glenn Beck are regarded with more authority than the experts and scientists they mangle, credentials mean doodly-squat for most people. People are going to believe what they want to believe.

What anonymity does give me is a forum to say what I want without professional censure. In this way, I can be more honest with my own thoughts and opinions than in any other context, without worrying about my wit stealing the bread from my mouth.

What I say, take from it what you will. The wise will read critically, doubt what I say, and maybe use it as a jumping point for further research. The foolish will either believe every word or dismiss it outright. Either way, I care very little.