If you happen to follow the standard american system of representing calender time for numbers, today is 9-1-11 which in numerology means absolutely nothing.
9 + 1 + 11 is 21. Divide that by 3 (because there are three terms added) and you get 7.
9 + 1 + 1 + 1 is 12. Divide that by four (because there are four terms added this time) and you get 3.
Or, instead of dividing the sums, add the digits of each sum and they're the same.
By most accounts, three is a good number.
Today in my email I received notice that one Kai Nagata, former Canadian television reporter, has updated his personal blog. He's interesting. Very dynamic. Purports to be unemployed and an independent voice. Employs his alleged insider=>outsider p.ov. to examine the news media machine as a whole as well as the economy and the interdependent nature of Canada and the US. Worth googling to read and/or convince him to node.
Like the Custodian, I've been thinking recently about the nymwars. I have not been reading too many of the arguments on either side tho because it seems like the only new thing about the debate is the term referring to it. Seems pretty clear to me that sites like this where one may adopt a persona independent of their Real Name will become more and more rare. Because of the internet, anonymity in the truest sense of the word is only possible now if you don't drive a car, don't email, have no health insurance, only ever use cash and get paid under the table.
Even then it likely won't last long—not because anyone will be looking for you, because they won't—but rather because the way we compose our thoughts is as distinct as our handwriting. Anne Rice gave up pretending not to be A. N. Roquelaure and David Foster Wallace didn't last long as either Willem R. deGroot or Elizabeth Klemm. Joyce Carol Oates has a few words on the subject.
Anonymous is a lie.
As a culture we are still learning how to conduct ourselves within the context of a universal and lasting index of our acts and thoughts. We probably always will be, until the time when bar codes are assigned at birth or we greet death.
The places where we can rest easy, safely pseudonymous are so few. So—don't let me know who you are now.
Unless you really want to.