The tradition of anonymous public discourse goes back a long way in America, to the days of the Revolution and the early years of the nation when letters to the newspapers debating, say, federalism vs. anti-federalism would be signed with names like "Publius" or "Cato," usually meant to evoke the ancient republic of Rome.

Most literary reviewing was anonymous in the eighteenth and early nineteenth century--the review was understood as the institutional pronouncement of the journal in which it appeared.

There were problems with anonymity even then--you could savage a writer or libel a political opponent without taking any responsibility for what you said. Most reviews and op-ed columns nowadays, with the exception of newspaper editorials, are signed.

Cyberspace, with its culture of click-and-run aggression, has complicated the matter further.

But I fully understand the desire for a pseudonym not as a tool of aggression but as a tool of defense against the aggressions of others. Doing without one is a little bit like unilateral disarmament.

So far, however, I have been lightly strafed but never bombed. I can live with that.

HAP is my pen name

Bell, Bell, Bell and Blake

Boz, Carroll and Elia

Elliot, Gorky and O. Henry

Carre, Orwell and Queen

Saki, Sand and Stendhal

Voltaire and Mary Westmacott

And never the Twain shall meet

But I fully understand the desire for a pseudonym not as a tool of aggression but as a tool of defense against the aggressions of others.

It's not a matter of online aggression, but rather offline identification.

For example, people here know I'm in the Baltimore area. If they knew my real name, they could easily find my address in the phone book. Now, I wouldn't mind some PoemsFraysters showing up on my doorstep, but online discussion boards have a large number of lurkers, people who read but do not post on boards. I don't want some unknown lurker (in all senses of the word) showing up on my doorstep.

Likewise, because I have a somewhat unusual Polish surname, people could Google me and find out about my past criminal record. (joke) You do know, Paul, that it's de rigeur (sp?) for people going out on a first date to Google their date's name beforehand.....

Also, one day I got a phone call from a guy I had dated and dumped 30 years ago. He had Googled me, figured out from the info there what city I lived in, got my phone number, and called. Had to dump him all over again (even though he is a poetry lover).

So I remain
just plain
Mary Ann

Googling my name yields 1320 hits. And I'm not even in the top 40.

Used to say that I'll know I've made it when my name is googled and I'm the top hit. Then I can retire to Kennebunkport. (With secret service detail, of course.)

Meanwhile google "Cutter McCool" and you get five hits. All leading to here. There you go. Life's dream achieved!

I just Googled my name and got 18 hits -- all about me. (I'm sure there are other people in the world with my name, but they're just not Google-ized.)

Those hits include the courses I've taught at the lifelong learning institute at the local college; the various charities and nonprofits I give money to, including Poetry Daily; my mother's obituary, which mentions me; a Scrabble Tournament I was in 8 years ago; some volunteer work I did 10 years ago for a Save the Chesapeake Bay nonprofit.

Pretty dull stuff.

Yikes.

I googled me. The first me is a famous Chef in Texas. Google me with my state name and there's the me me, several hits on a state business licensing site and a map to my front door.

If I retire waltz and capsize in favor of the name me mum gave me, I'd probably dig a mote around my house and leash out a few Irish Wolfhounds-- gentle when stroked, fierce when provoked.

But enough of this. You all have captured my attentions today, anonymous or not. My responsibilities have been sorely neglected. Away with me.

Yes, I realize aggression can go beyond the screen as stalking.

Didn't know people were googling prospective dates nowadays, though. In my day, there was ogling but no googling.

Unless you have a very unusual name, you are going to have doubles on the net. Among mine: a neurologist who works on smell and taste; an American-born jazz musician based in Paris; a poetaster (four of his things appeared on "Poemfinder" linked to a biographical note about me, so I posted a disclaimer); an Irishman once abused by his priest; an English soccer coach.

And if you've ever had a squabble with anybody in print or on line, it's up there forever, like a permanent scar.

Nah, Paul, nothing is forever. Just wait for that wing to sprinkle Lethe.

Hmmm. Googling my name:

Results 1 - 10 of about 15,800,000 for hap

Is that all?

So I remain
just plain
Mary Ann

Did you mean plain, or do you mean simple, Mary Ann?

I guess it's time for me to admit that my true identity is...the world's most interesting man. You know, from those Dos Equis beer commercials? The guy whose organ donor card includes his beard? That's me.

Ah, googling! To google. To have googled. You're right, Paul. It's not the same as ogle. And self googling is not at all like self ogling, either.

My surname is synonymous with "street," so my 1,310 hits are mostly street addresses in places like San Sebastipol, CA and Grovetown, GA.

I am risking being outed, though, by using my screen name to advertise my redheadedness. Less than 5% of the U.S. population has red hair. Presumeably I'm male, right? Viejo en lugar de viaja. Entonces...only 2% or so of the U.S. population is redheaded and male. I've also let it be known that I'm from New Mexico. Less than 1% of the U.S. population lives in NM (though judging from the number of times McCain and Obama come around, you'd think it was much more than that...gotta love swing states and the electoral college, eh?). So...less than 2% of less than 1% = ...

Gotta run. Someone's at the door.

Hi, PV, I laughed so hard when I read your last line. If I were watching a science fiction/suspense/slasher movie, I would know that in the nanosecond between you posting all the clues to your identity and the knock on the door, the really evil bad guys, using super-spy technology, had already figured out your location, arrived by rocket-car and were there to ... to ... I don't know! What would someone do with a PFray poster once they tracked them down? The dreaded GooglyOgly torture routine? Death by a thousand sonnets?

For the person who obtained my debit cardnumber and spent $11,000 in five days

My pale stepdaughter, just off the school bus, Scowled, "Well, that's the last time I say my name's Snodgrass!" Just so, may that anonymous Mexican male who prodigally claims
My clan lines, identity and the sixteen Digits that unlock my bank account, Think twice. That less than proper name's been Taken by three ex-wives, each for an amount
Past all you've squandered, each more than pleased To change it back. That surname you affect May have more consequence than getting teased By dumb kids or tracked down by bank detectives.
Don't underrate its history: one of ours played Piano on his prison's weekly broadcast; One got rich on a scammed quiz show; one made A bungle costing the World Series. My own past
Could subject you to guilt by association: If you write anything more than false checks, Abandon all hope of large press publication Or prizes—critics shun the name like sex Without a condom. Whoever steals my purse Helps chain me to my writing desk again For fun and profit. So take thanks with my curse: May your pen name help send you to your pen. W.D. Snodgrass

my apologies again, to both poet and readers.

here's what the poet intended. <link>

poor Snodgrass would be saddened to see that, at the keyboards of the inept, PoemsFray formatting could change his ordered work into a heap of mashed potatoes.

Red Rue! From Kalamazoo! I knew it was you!
There's a cryptic clue in my handle as well. My name is as common as I am obscure. I knew a man who was arrested for being frank and earnest. He was Frank in New York and Ernest in Chicago. Trivially, in itself that's not illegal, until you try to cheat somebody. You are who you say you are. Just don't call me late for....by popular acclaim I'll stop now.

I'm with MA on this one....My actual name is so common that to do "the google" is nearly useless. There is even a poet, deceased, of no relation, who shares my name. This has caused some interesting situations when I've submitted poems for publication...."we thought you were dead...." So now those of you who pay attention know where I work and live and a bit more about me. I'm not adverse to that, but have had enough of bill collectors calling me because my phone book listing, first initial, last name, seems to be the moniker for so many deadbeats ; I will continue to borrow identity from Elizabeth Bishop and leave it at that.