The Dangers of Posting: or CFOSHGB

For those of you who can't read my mind, CFOSHGB is an acronym for Chief Financial Officers Shouldn't Have Gambling Blogs.

Well, after my posthuman sex post from last night, I figure I should take a moment to reflect upon the dangers of posting my mind to the world.

How many of us have given thought to the pervasiveness of the net? Have you ever thought about the permanence of the messages you post? I think I have given it some thought but, then again, maybe not enough.

Four years ago, I posted a conspiracy theory (using another id) to a news website. It was fun and harmless but guess what, it's still on the web floating around. What if, 10 years from now, I decide that I don't want to be a transhumanist anymore. I know, it sounds crazy right now but I have been known to change my mind from time to time. Now let's suppose that instead of thinking about getting my next implant towards posthumanity, I am heavily involved in a conservative Christian organization and was just getting ready to be promoted to preacher or something. My employer, the church, decides to look me up on the 3D Internet. Loweth and beholdeth (that's how churchy types talk) guess what they find my friend. They find out that I am Lucifer incarnate because of my transhuman past and believe it or not, for some strange reason, I don't get the job because God doesn't like the competition. Not only that but rumors start to circulate (because conservative Christians have nothing better to do than circulate rumors of Satan) and I am embarrassed out of my dream job.

So here I am, torn between being who I really am, talking about what I really want to talk about or just quietly pretending to be someone I currently am not.

Since the quiet thing seems kinda boring and isn't a good topic for discussion unless you're Garrison Keillor writing about shy rights, I guess I will need to accept that I cannot be a conservative Christian preacher in the future.

End of story? Not quite.

I also see people post their pictures all over the web. Right now, there is software in beta that can scour the Internet comparing photos of cats (or maybe dogs, I forget which). If you don't get the implications of that, Mr. picture posty pants, I will tell you.

It means that, your awesome girlfriend, Mary Jane, you know the one that talks not the one you smoked, who snapped a photo of the two of you over the weekend can scan that photo and compare your face to every picture on the web looking for a match. I hope for your sake you anticipated her doing that, the sneaky little (bleep), and have prearranged the perfect explanation for why your mug shot turned up on your "secret blog" with a random group of people at a rave that you swore was a late night meeting.

Moral of the story kiddos, don't do anything that you'll regret because there is someone out there making sure you will.

My Next post: Posthuman Shit...It Really Does Smell Like Roses.