In addition to waking up with a hangover Sunday morning from my Friday night, this day has been full of surprises.
We knew that the commenters weren’t particularly valued at Gawker as of late – that we didn’t fit into Denton’s grand scheme. However, I am surprised at the lack of giving a shit about our privacy. Other than a brief “change your passwords” post, nothing. I’m getting more feedback from the Rogue Choire than I am from Gawker editors. I had to go to Gizmodo to find out if my account was listed. Even there, I had to wonder am I communicating with a hacker or someone within Gizmodo. I received two different answers, so who the fuck knows.
It made me realize what a fragile house of cards this whole web interaction has been. I throw stuff out there to stir up a pot or see what sticks under a cloak of anonymity. Not saying I don’t believe or stand by in what I write: but let’s face it: what we put out there sometimes is what we often only dare to think, not say out loud. Gawker can be one big miasma of id, with a smattering of ego and superego just to keep things civil. (Sorry, I love Freud) I think the threat of disclosing who some are IRL, may limit some of that delicious id.
I wonder now if I will be as irreverent when I post something over there. I suspect I won’t for at least a while. What about you?