Facebook: Real Names Policy – Intro

FacistbookRecently Facebook began enforcing their so-called “Real Names Policy”. You might remember this making the news back in September when Facebook began closing or suspending the accounts of transgendered people and drag artists who were not using their “real names” on their profiles.

After the wails of protests became too loud for the Facebook PR machine to quash, an agreement was made and some of the users affected were permitted to keep their chosen Facebook names. (http://bit.ly/14YEmTy) However, even after the apology, the Facistbook Facebook name policy police continued to crawl the site looking for suspicious names. No doubt using some hair brained algorithm which looks for commonly suspicious names.

Cat Woman isn't allowed a Facebook accountOften on Facebook, people create accounts for their pets and one of the more common Facebook profiles of yesteryear was Facebook profiles for cats. Profiles with names like Kitty Whiskers, Charlie Puss and other  feline similes would be common place. Similarly Doggy Woofwoof, Rover Dog and other animals were common too.  Facebook started to prevent such accounts being made but recently, two members of the Facebook community I know of who both have names with cat themes had their accounts suspended. So it seems likely that Facebook’s algorithm is working through its cat thesaurus.

Facebook’s terms of service state that people must use the same name “as it would be listed on your credit card, driver’s license or student ID.” Which is great. Except I know plenty of Mikes whose name on their driving licence says “Michael”, Jims whose passports say their name is James. Indeed, I know lots of people who don’t actually use their full name on social media because of safety, privacy and historical reasons.

stegzy_1398497700_140For as long as I have been on the internet, I have used the internet name “Stegzy Gnomepants”. Why? Because my real name is, quite rightly, none-of-your-fucking-business. I have been on the internet since 1998 using that very same name. Look for me on google, you’ll find my accounts everywhere. Stegzy Gnomepants. Occasionally Stegzonopolis Gnomicpantalon. Rarely some other variation.  It is my distinct expression of my personality. My expression of creativity. How I wish to be known on the internet.

This is what Edward Snowden has been trying to tell you for agesI also use the name because I realised long ago, the only reason people need your name is so they can compile data about you. Attribute demographic and personal information to form a picture about your personality and psyche. Your political beliefs. Your sexual preferences. Your needs. Not just for marketing purposes. But for sinister reasons. As dear old Edward Snowden pointed out.

There is no need to create a state like the DDR in former East Germany. Not when people freely give every aspect of their waking life to those who want it but don’t ask for it. That is the world now. There is no need to worry about people communicating anonymously when they are forced to use their real name on services they have tied to one identity. We’re being shepherded back into a society that thousands died to prevent 100 years ago. Technology designed to promote democracy is being used to control us. Prevent uprisings. Quash political unrest and difference of opinion. Exactly how Egypt and parts of the Middle East failed to do.

Where we are headingAnonymity causes people to misbehave. Anonymity allows people to do bad things. Anonymity allows people to abuse children. This is what those whipping up the pre-constructed moral panic are saying.

However, it’s the opposite. It’s anonymity that protects us from surveillance. Anonymity prevents abuse. Anonymity saves lives. Anonymity is a right. A way of life.

So, the axe is about to fall. The sword of Damocles may drop at any moment and over ten years of Facebook usage is about to come to an end. I will lose contact with friends I have made long before Facebook because that is how they communicate. I will lose memories. Fond and painful. Over the next few days I am intending to write about this situation. Discuss alternatives. Express distaste and moot alternatives.

Going forward. You can always find me elsewhere. Follow my comings and goings on WordPress (stegzy.wordpress.com). Tweet me on Twitter (@stegzy). Analyse my mind on LiveJournal (stegzy.livejournal.com). Say “Hello” on Ello (@stegzy). Flick me on Flickr (stegzy). Hell, if I’m on it, I’m on it as Stegzy. But as for Facebook. How long I am there is dependent on how quickly their police come for me. Enjoy my last days there. Because when they say stop. I will. By taking myself elsewhere.

 

Advertisements

Cat (A poem)

002eb0r9Cat! Cat!
What are you doing?
You’re in a carrier bag
You best not be pooing

Cat! Cat!
Get out of there
I need that bag
For my underwear

Cat! Cat!
You soft black brute
How can I be angry
When you are so cute?

Annoy annoy annoy

My alarm clock is furry. It is black and white and furry. It doesn’t tell the time very well, but it knows to wake me up in the morning.

You don’t wind it up, you feed it. If you want a lie in, forget it. If you pretend to sleep, prepare for the paw. If you ignore it, it will be sick on the bed or knock stuff off tables. Unfortunately it doesn’t seem to grasp the concept of being too early….

Would you like to see my alarm clock? No? Well tough….Here is my alarm clock.

Horse Pr0n

So after a long hard day attempting to motivate myself into doing some of the tonnes of work I have to do before April 16th I return from Uni and put the car into the garage.

While I am closing the garage door I hear a strange harrumphing noise coming from behind me. Worried that it might be G the Human Dog in distress I look round to see, in the field behind the field behind the lane with no name, the horses.

Now you may recall recent events where the people who own the field behind the lane with no name went and bought a rather beautiful chestnut mare much to the delight of the white and black patchy horsy in the field behind the field behind the lane with no name. Since then, the black and white patchy horse (who shares a field with an off white horse and a donkey), has been putting on a fine display of horse widginess. I tell you, you’ve never seen a knob so big in all your life! It even rivals mine! So theres the patchy horse wopping it on display like some weird Long John Holmes of the horse world driven to heights of lust and desire by the chestnut mare, separated by a barbed wire fence.

So I’m there, I’ve looked round, and my eyes beheld a sight which I’ve only ever seen in websites frequented by kasperskyUncle Monty and billzyGirlzy. The two (male) horses in the field behind the field behind the lane with no name…..were…..bumming!

:-O

Of course I’m insanely jealous of this. But I tried to take a picture of the act for billzy you to wank gasp in awe over but the sun was in the wrong position and my camera phone is a bit slow now it’s over a year old. Still I’ve shoved it below the cut to protect the more sensitive readers. Even if it’s a crap picture.

 

Village Gossip

As a happy ending, the people who own the field behind the “lane with no name” took a trip to an equine fair this weekend and purchased this lovely chestnut mare



A Horse Called Man

Behind the field behind the lane with no name is another field (separated by a patchy hedge and some skilfully placed barbed wire). In the field behind the field behind the lane with no name there are two other horses and a donkey, together with a collection of tatty farm machinery.

One of the horses in the field behind the field behind the lane with no name is a white and black patchy horsey. The white and black patchy horsey and his friends the donkey and the white horsey all came to say hello to the chestnut mare.



The white and black patchy horsey what has a big cock

I think the white and black patchy horsey was pleased to see the chestnut horsey (judged by the size of it’s dripping widgy). They all stood round looking at each other over the barbed wire fence. I suspect they have a lot to discuss.

Scandalous Village Gossip

The horse in the field behind Gnomepants Manor died last week. It was quite sudden.

G the Human Dog told me that he suspects foul play. No. He was sure it was foul play. In that some third party, notably a shifty chap that holds a grudge against the people that now live in the house at the end of “The lane with no name” who own the field, had on numerous occasions left the gate open and, in one final act of revenge, fed the horse poison. The motive, is as yet, unclear. But G is adamant that this unscrupulous character had committed the act.

Of course G has no proof to support these claims. It could just be that the horse has eaten something that didn’t agree with it. But village gossip being what it is, such a scandal as a equine poisoner at large, will no doubt keep tongues wagging for some time.