part one of the Great Acquiescing

Interesting…

Well?

Apparently certain social media outlets are beginning to compel their users to use their "real names" vs say, their home-brewed non-Christian ones, ie., baptized names, state-acknowledged names, aka, the names they use to operate in the faux-called "real world". Hmmph, I say. But in all fairness, one has to wonder: is it the CORPORATION knocking? I know they're doing their darnedest to colorize us bleakly into culpable winces that yell rabbit when they say rabbit and stand up when they want us to and then eat up and prance around like a bunch of drunken pagan fools (minus the pageantry of true drunken pagan foolishness) whenever a new gadget comes out. But really? Now we gotta change over to our former waspish selves in order to get more carbonated beverage ads lobbed at us? Oh, it's a good laugh, I reckon, the day they make me choose between Crank and that other one, that one there, that name, that game, that not-really-one-of-shame-but-one-that-hardly-sparkles-the-same (sorry for the rhyme, my blog, not yours). So, um… well? I suppose I'll continue on as follows, until the machine says otherwise. I'm sure it'll be funny when Crank suddenly has to wear the badge of his former, kinda bland, Protestant-sounding name. Surely Crank will continue, but if this is the way of the world and its lease on Internet freedoms, you, dear reader, will soon see this blog disappear as well. But, fret not, as I fear nothing in this regard. I mean, dang, we should "get real" anyway, right? Let 'em know who we really are. None of this anonymity, hiding-in-the-woods like a guerrilla hermit or some godless middle-fingering artist-type. Privacy? Nah. Pfff. Undeserved and underrated. If the corporation says I have to do this, then let it be so. I'll cherish the reality of a non-evocative namesake; in so doing, I'll gladly drop my greasy pen and acquiesce to the sword; I'll don my non blinking disaffected hat and adopt a second career as a kinda bland folk singer songwriter with the most quotidian name possible: the one I was born with. 

Wait, aren't all folk singer songwriters kinda bland? 
Well? 
Oh rats. This is suddenly no longer interesting.