The Magic Babel-Fishbowl

It’s all misdirection, really. We think we’re living in a technological fishbowl (because, if you’re reading this, you probably are) but what matters more is what we don’t say.

When I staked out my bits of cyberspace, I did it with malice aforethought, as a fully consenting adult. This is my real name, and I’ve even gone to the effort of putting an accurate photo up, instead of the more flattering but outdated one that was easier to use. Look! There’s nothing up my sleeve. I have nothing to hide. I stand beside my words. Celebra--- oops, I mean, Abracadabra! Of course it’s all an illusion. We control what we post.

You’d think people would care more about the image they’re projecting. Then again, how often is the driver of the next car picking his/her nose? Don’t my neighbors know I can hear them in their backyard?

Privacy has changed. The Internet is like a small town in the 1800s, although less picturesque. We’re in each other’s pockets all day. We wear our secrets, and our foibles. We even advertise them. Does anybody remember when dignity was a virtue?

But when I swim in the Twitterstream, munching bits of wit and tons of trivia, mangling metaphors (albeit alliteratively), I often find myself wondering what they aren’t saying, what’s really going on behind the techno-curtain. Of course it’s all a trick, I just hope the joke isn’t on me.