Who I Am.

A number of people have written (sometimes quite emphatically, which I find very funny) asking me why I remain anonymous. Some have "demanded" (which is even funnier yet) that I reveal my identity. Some go so far as to call me a coward, or say I'm "getting all 'The Shadow'" on them when I say that I am "The Fox" of Kendall County lore.

Well, I've had enough.

While I refuse to get down in the trenches and respond to comments (which I have done in the past, and for which I still harbor some regret because it's petty) a number of Jim Birch Society members have revealed their sharp senses by asking the question: "Why do you remain anonymous?"

It's actually pretty simple. I enjoy a role as spectator in this "non-spectator sport" called politics. As I grew up, my desire to enter politics evaporated as every single Democrat around me was reduced to laughing-stock by hectoring, heckling mouthbreathers, the likes of whom now control every branch of our government (and likely will for the remainder of my life).

These mouthbreathers also formed a vast network that I refer to as the Moron Contingent in America, which comprises nearly 40% of our population, among whom many of my own family and friends waller in abject stupidity.

I also know people that I have written about, and I'm not talking about the JBS. This is a sideshow which irritates me greatly, which is why I write about it. I love to be irritated (as you can see right here).

And I know things. Things that would blow you away. Things that I'm pretty sure would get me blown away if I blurted it all out here. And I'm not kidding.

No "Shadow." No imaginary stuff.

The people who hold power today are ruthless motherfuckers. I make no apologies for my language. At some point, if Democrats don't get their heads out of their asses and start promoting concrete policy and unity, I won't even be able to use that language on the internets. Dennis Hastert is, as I've said, a good front man for these people because he's a lot less overtly motherfuckerish than a Rumsfeld, Rove or Gingrich. He's a good "coach," when you ask them, but they snicker behind his back because all he does is carry their water (for which he's paid handsomely).

So when I say that I am "The Fox," know that I am operating in that spirit, as I knew him well (and fuck you, Steve, by the way).

I could say, also, that I am Esperanza. Or Don Diego de la Vega. But I suspect that my Latino following (among whom the allusion would gain instant noteriety) is somewhat limited.

And when I say that I am your conscience, know that I want you to think and not be just another mouthbreather.

And when I say that I am Thomas Paine, know that I would have been Thomas Paine if the internets were around 235 years ago. I want you to understand how seriously I take this very serious and troubled world that we have become during my long life.

Bloggers are modern-day anonymous pampleteers, the likes of which helped fuel our American Revolution.

I have a lot of fun doing this. It is rather therapeutic. But I am also keenly aware that without their anonymity, my heroes faced real and dire consequences.

I could be a man. I could be a journalist. I could be a woman. Or maybe not. I could even be more than one person.

You will not know.

Readers are welcome to adopt their own handle or post anonymously in the comments. That's the beauty of blogging. Come one and come all. Morons, patrons, saints and sinners.

The Jim Birch Society will find its way. Or it won't. It doesn't matter, really. If it wasn't such a fucking freak show, I'd simply call it a sideshow attraction. But it just doesn't matter. The real object of my disgust is seated at the table of power, and he's fattened by eating your lunch and dinner every day. And you have no idea how much he's really consumed and how big he really is.