Stamping Out Feminism

In my understanding, for which women will obviously and invariably deem as "ignorant", there is no need for Feminism. Feminism is like a Gay Parade, an obsolete and ineffective Civil Rights Movement that bears little relevance today. We know you're all females, but you are not necessarily better than us males, nor are we necessarily better than you all. You don't need to boast so indignantly, to trumpet your feminineness to the high heavens. We already know you are a female, your favorite color is pink, and a good chunk of your friends are homosexual males, or so our preconceived notions tell us.

Equally, us males are not constantly lost, directions-refusing buffoons who must act like mindless primates in order to interact with our supposed "man side", despite us all being, deep down, skirt-wearing pansies. We are not results of stereotypes. We can multi-task just as well as your secretary likes to brag about. And on that note, even we can be secretaries too! Heck, why not even nurses.

If you couldn't tell by now, I am an adamant egalitarian. I don't believe in Feminism, and much like our Feminist-aware society, equally don't believe in Masculinism. (Which is humorously evidenced by Google Chrome's signature red line that highlights the obscurity of this term I clearly just made up, "Masculinism").

Back to the point (see, right now I'm multi-tasking. Look at me world! I'm better than you!) Feminism was once a necessity, and I will concede that unequal wages between the two sexes is an increasing issue. When Feminism was in vogue, there was a palpable need for it: women didn't have the right to vote, were excluded from many sectors of society, and were prevented from owning property among many other crying issues. And yes, in the Middle East in particular, the blatant inequalities for which women must suffer are severe, arbitrary, and often tragic, and those very cultural boundaries should be pushed forward, questioned, and challenged, displaying the true power of women. Unlike some superficial, glittery, flowery, pink-and-purple sticker you put on your lunchbox that says "Girl Power", the power of women speaks for itself, and they are just as much a force to be reconciled with as men.

In an attempt to avoid the unavoidable, I shall start this paragraph off with the weak "I think" line. So, I think Feminism in Europe and North America has a far smaller place in society as it once did. I believe Feminism needs to be pushed outside Western society in places such as the aforementioned, Middle East, Asia, Africa, and South America, and less as emphasized in our societies where women largely share identical rights to those possessed by their male counterparts. But I deliberately use the word "largely", as I am aware that not all equal rights have been fulfilled, so take my statements with a grain of salt, please.

So in closing, men should not further succumb to Feminism, and should not be forced to tolerate this prideful celebration of womanhood, especially if there is not an equal celebration of manhood in place. (You more snarky Feminists out there would likely argue that pubs and sports bars already make up that void, but the same could be said about your excessive boutiques, hair-styling salons, designer clothing, shoe, belt, scarf, watch and sunglasses brands).

So I leave you with this, Ceteris paribus.

Andy Molnar

Andy Molnar is one of my best friends, but at times, can be a mortal enemy with polarly opposite views.

For example, we may disagree in terms of tastes and preferences, political views, religion, drugs, ect. When I disagree with him though, it is often because much of what he believes in, in a rather post-modern sense, has no base, no standard, no strict parameters from which the idea must not deviate. To specify what I mean, he commonly embodies a "live and let live", or "screw the haters" mentality that is aggravatingly inconsistent and frequently is contradicted by Andy himself.

For instance, Andy is an adamant supporter of hip-hop and rap, decrying anything and anyone who doesn't like the exact same music as he does: I call it arrogance. With especial regard to his tastes in video games, anything that's not a Halo or a Call of Duty is in his mind, "wrong": I call it immaturity. And anyone that is not in total favor of the Xbox 360, Andy deems idiotic: I call it xenophobia.

Mouse and keyboard, arguably the best interface for gaming, period, Andy sees as "lame". World of Warcraft, the single most popular game in all of time, which boasts 12 million plus players, countless awards, and some of the highest praises from the media, Andy sees as "gay". Playstation 3, despite its incredible breadth of software, free online service, and revolutionary PSN games, Andy understands it as "stupid".

So as you can see, Andy is tremendously biased, rarely is ever willing to see an issue from another side, and can't bear to understand anything unless he tries it himself, and even at times, he still can't reconcile with the quality of something he once denounced.

But all that doesn't detract from the fact that he still remains one of my best friends. I love you Andy.

A Seriously Ungood Day

TODAY was a horrible day. In fact, "horrible" doesn't even begin to describe it.

This morning, I was awoken to the yell of my sister, saying "They're already here!". They, being my carpool that my sister, herself arranged just last night for our last day of final exams. As soon as I could grasp this reality, I got ready as soon as possible, ignoring the hygiene of my teeth, and struggling one at a time with my contacts that for some inextricable reason wouldn't go in!

Then by the time I got ready, and mind you it's 7:30 exactly--not that bad of a time for an 8:10 exam--I went downstairs, opened our front door to the sight of an empty driveway. I thought one of two things: (1) they're all late, my sister gave me an early warning, and I'm the one who's early, or (2) I was indeed the one late. And if entitling this entry with my adjective, "ungood" doesn't blatantly hint at the fact that choice number two is what happened, then I don't know what will.

So the situation wasn't a good one. I then thought I could take my car, and just screw over my sister, forcing her to get a ride with someone else, but then I knew she would berate me to no end, and I would suffer great consequences. I decided to ask my father if he'd drive me, especially given that should he, unlike me, be caught speeding, wouldn't have his license taken away, knows the Ogden route to school much better, I could study along the way, and also I wouldn't be forced to park for I could simply run out like a madman on a getaway mission.

Thus my father drove me to school, and during much of it, I spent my time partially studying my Religion notes, and keeping a keen eye on both clock and road. Almost in an act of cruelty, the clock slowly swept past 7:50, then 8:00, then most unbearably, 8:10. By this time, we weren't even on Roosevelt, and I knew I would face shame, humiliation, and possibly even the prospect of having my test moved back, which wouldn't bode well given that I instructed my sister to keep my car unlocked, and to place the keys in it so as to ensure that I get them, rather than the "per chance" opportunity of seeing her in the hallway or on the street and receiving the keys from her then and there.

As soon as my father pulled in front of the school, I booked. I stopped worrying, and hoped for the best. But those hopes were soon sullied as I saw not a single other student in my shoes. At this point, I was severely, nearly inexcusably late. By 8:18, I ran up the stairs, ran through the brown-carpeted hallway, and ran into the silence of room 145, the computer lab in which my class was taking their religion final.

I opened the door ever so slyly, and at my arrival, received modest clapping by only two students. I had thought surely, this was going to be a class act (no pun intended), but as it seemed, everyone was hard at work at this intricate 150-question test, and couldn't be bothered to perform an act of tomfoolery. The instructor present in our class was Mr. (Coach) Stassen, and he kindly told me where to sit, and I did so diligently, grateful that he didn't berate me for my insolence.

With 150 questions to go, and 52 minutes to spare, I revved my brain and typed faster than I ever have before, "Username: Michael.Lenoch, Password: ********", pressed "Enter", and away I went. I opened Edline.net, headed straight for the "School Login", and was faced again with another login query. I complied to the technology's antics, and then clicked on "Religion 4", and later, the "Tests" folder. To my concern, an error screen appeared, and was prompted, yet again, to sign in to the silly website. I did so with equal haste, and made my way, finally, to the test page.

Incredibly, based on my brief studying on the car ride to school, I found a great deal of the questions easy, or so I had thought. I blissfully blasted past all 150 questions by 8:48, allowing me more than ample time to check my work. Occasionally, my teacher, Mr. McLarty came into the room to assist us with any confusion. By his second trip, he came up to me, completely unsolicited, patted me on the back, and said "So good for you to join us" with a wide smile. I smiled my best in return, with dirty teeth and all, giving him the cue to leave the room.

While checking my masterpiece, I heard a fellow student cry "Walsh!", the last name of yet another classmate, Matt Walsh. Tolerating the intermittent disturbances of cry and Apple's signature volume control sound alike, I checked my 100% exam, and found only two questions to change. I promptly did so, and was on my way to submitting the final exam, which if I remember correctly, counts for 15% of my grade. Oh joy.

I got 60% of my questions correct. This clearly was the shame and humiliation I was expecting as I walked into the door of my beloved school. I had no qualms sharing this score, as evidenced by me posting the very tidbit this very public blog, which had me share it among friends, and often provoked laughter. After I received one laugh, I then said the score with a smile. For the life of me, I feel I cannot do well on Mr. McLarty's tests. They're simply too in-depth, especially considering this past one was a SEMESTER exam, which means it should rather broadly, cover everything in this semester, not a few weeks of that semester, all under a microscope.

So I reveled in the poor score. People in the hallway asked, and surprisingly, some had already known. Regardless, this wasn't my primary concern at the moment. I had to find my sister because I had a sneaking suspicion that she didn't follow through with my request for her to leave the keys of my car underneath the passenger's seat. I scoured the school. 40s hallway, second floor, third floor, 50s hallway, second floor, third floor, but to no avail. I concluded she must be in the first floor where I had taken my exam. I looked there too, but also, to no avail. In fact, I again came across my harsh test-giving, back-patting, snarky comment-delivering teacher, Mr. McLarty. I carried out a brief conversation with him as I attempted to explain myself based on the perplexed expression he rendered at first. I told him my dilemma until the computer lab technician came and started to talk to him, I left him. As I journied through the school I asked suburbanite after another whether I could have a ride, but yet again, to no avail. One was going to New York for the four-day weekend, another going to lunch, and another had a Precalculus exam.

I went to the car, incredulous that the keys were where I instructed for my sister to place them. I entered the salt-ridden, black BMW via the passenger's door, expecting the keys below the seat, but unsurprisingly, they weren't there. I looked all around--from the rear, to the glove compartment, to the center console--I tried multiple times, moving both the driver and passenger seats so as to expose my dear keys, but to no avail. After my excavation, I finally came across a bulge in the driver's floor mat. Incredibly, my key and keyless entry switch sat peacefully there all along while I reeked mayhem looking for them. Evidently, my sister feared the car would go stolen given that it was totally unlocked, in the city, and to her foolishness, parked right in the front of the lot, which didn't help our chances of it not getting stolen one bit. Coping from the fumes coming from my head, I gracefully backed out and I was outta' there. Thank the Lord.

Gender Dynamics

Male, female. Female, male.

Do I offend you whether or not you are female or male, or you are male or you are female based on the order I list the two genders? This sensitivity, which seems to be part of the average female and male psyche, oftentimes clashes with one another. In modern times, you see Feminism receive wide acceptance, and Misogyny to be denounced just as widely. Out with old, in with the new, or as post-modernists would say, "Out with the Church, in with Atheism".

Both sexes have distinct versions of egotism. Whether my observations are unfounded, here is what I conclude; males think of themselves are hard-minded, disciplined, dominant, brawny, while females commonly are egotistical in the way they seek to promote themselves, typically aesthetically, and also socially. We're seeing a growing movement of women object to their lack of "rights". I deliberately impose quotation marks upon the plural subject that has come to denote ability or liberty for the sheer fact that the assessment that women lack "rights" is completely unfounded.

What is true is that women lack equal pay of their male counterparts, but it seems the more liberal, those who are leading-the-Feminist-charge-women have an insatiable thirst for "freedom" (despite them possessing it already).

An apt metaphor to this situation would be a father, representing the state, or the government, or what have you. Objective in [its] pursuits, caring, yet bold, and will bend over backwards for justice and liberty for all. The state has two children, Billy, representing the male contingency, and Sarah, who represents the female contingency. Many years ago, Billy could drive his father's car whenever he would like

In retrospect, and after reading this metaphor I crafted, my male perspective speaks for itself. Not only using a father to represent the state, but also subtly listing Billy before Sarah hint at my slight favor for malehood. And why not? I am a male after all. Am I to forget about my rights, my dignity, and prioritize female rights over my own, and thus, in an extreme string of events, become a Feminist? No. I am to bend over backwards, just as the father did to ensure that justice was kept, in my examples so as to merely keep any female that reads this happy? No. There are many, too many in my opinion, proud females that will incessantly decry males and invariably cite the merits of females over their counterparts.

But the truth of the matter is this: I am a male myself, and there is no separating anyone from any inadvertent prejudice, blatant, nor subtle. But despite this, we should strive to maintain stability and equality of rights: not give in to the petty demands of females, and not promote Misogyny in our population by making males too powerful. Yes, it is a change in the tennants of our social fiber. Yes, it is a tangible change that may be seen as a post-modern betrayal of yesterday's values. But instead, it is a push forward that will bring an end to xenophobia.

What will bring this to fruition is the ban on Feminism. Sounds extreme and unreasonable, I know. But Feminists only bring chaos to our system, their demands are outrageous, just as the dismissive behavior of Misogynists. And if Misogynists have fallen out of favor within the last 30 years, soon too will Feminists. It seems, Feminists have solely garnered support because at one time, they were the underdogs, the maids, the housewives, the underbellies, and the cookers, the cleaners, the stay-at-home-moms of society. As we see this increasingly change, the more I feel we should see Feminism fall out of favor for it is unnecessary in this day and age.

Egalitarianism should be met with open arms, and we should look at each other for the humans that we are--not necessarily forgetting the differences that each of us have, but rather than decrying those differences, we ought to celebrate them collectively, as a family, as friends, as sisters and brothers, as a society.

Blog Haiku

No one visits this,

I feel lonely, no comments,

No hit counter seen.

Please visit my blog,

It's funny and insightful,

No matter: no one.

I wish my blog was

More popular and people

Came to visit it.

I wish my career

Took off by virtue of this,

But to no avail.

My Understanding of Equality

I see no difference in race. I don't look at you for the color of your skin, your tongue, background, culture, customs, religion, or lack thereof. I am a self-proclaimed egalitarian, as Jesus was. I respect everyone with the intrinsic dignity that they all well deserve.

We truly all are people, united in our humanity and our human condition and especially cemented by our distinctly human struggles for which animals could never have a similar experience.

Certainly we have squabbles, failures, missteps, stumbling blocks, and may perform acts of swindling, cheating, and vengeance typical of our fierce humanity.

I love humanity for all that it is intrinsically good, and for all the bad we contribute to it. I will love you similarly.

Computer Squabbles

Just last week, I was pining to print some photos stored on my external harddrive for my photography class. But alas! My "USB Hubport", as my computer was apt to report, had a power surge. No big deal, right? Not so much. I thought I could simply shut the PC down, let it cool off, and sort out its issues, but no! Every single one of my USB ports does not function! Not work! Work = no! This means I cannot use my harddrive, [couldn't use] my mouse for a short time, and for whatever reason, to throw a whole other monkey into this wrench, my monitor decides to commit suicide right on the scene of the crime!

The only silver lining in the sky to this story is that I've since gotten my monitor working. But unfortunately, yet again, my super-savvy-ultra-know-how-turbo-overclocking-PC-computer-wizard friend has assessed the problem. And it was so rare that even he was taken aback! He suggested I get another motherboard, and for you non-super-savvy-ultra-know-how-turbo-overclocking-PC-computer-wizards, it is the most central piece to the internals of a computer. In other words, it will cost over $600, considering that a new motherboard will require a new soundcard (because that killed itself too!), a new graphics card, new RAM cards, and much more garbage!

And if you're such a Neanderthal that you've never heard of any of this, get your tush on some sort of research. IMMEDIATELY!

That is all,

Students

You Say "New Blog", Flammen?

As you likely have noticed, I've lost weight and have gotten a haircut. But more importantly, my blog has been redesigned.

For about two years now, the cow and rainbow Katamari Damacy image has served as the header to my blog. But because times are a-changin', I thought, "what better than a blog redesign?" Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

So stop eating, watching that precious Jersey Shores program that all you damn children are watching and look at me! Look at my blog! See it in its purest glory and sanctimonious harmony of color, flair, style, and a play on my nickname, "Flammen".

Enjoy the blogging, creatures.

My New, yet 21-year-old Car

I LOVE the thought of purchasing a new car. From deciding what color to choose, what options to prioritize, to comparing deals, miles, models, conditions, prices; it all for some inextricable reason fills me with enthusiasm.

For the past three to four months, I've been looking for a car for myself. After discovering that my father would not allow me to take the car that my sister and I currently share to the track, nor modify in any way, I concluded that I needed a set of my own wheels. And also, one that had a manual transmition.

I scouered the internet--Copart, Vehbidz, Craigslist, eBay, Yahoo! Autos, and AOL Autos were the sites I ripped through, and eventually deduced what car I could afford with the money I had. From the onset, I knew I wanted something German. Whether that meant the essentially-out-of-reach realm of Porsches, the exclusive world of Mercedes-Benz, the slightly more reasonable planet of Audis, or the downright, down-to-earth land of BMWs.

Given not only that BMWs are purported to be some of the sportiest cars, in my estimation, they happen to be also some of the best-looking cars. Plus, the aforementioned car my sister and I share is a BMW, and being a part of the BMWCCA (BMW Car Club of America), my decision was foregone.

Early in my search, I realized that Copart and Vehbidz were less than ideal, let alone, credible sources for a car, let alone [I know, redundant] for one I intended to take on a track. In case you've never heard of the two car outlets, they are salvage dealers. (Think slightly higher-quality junkyards, and by slightly, I mean imperceivably). Many a listing on their respective sites have seen the severest of punishments from concrete walls, oncoming traffic, water, and its corrosive effects, and the laws of gravity, and its tendency to turn a car upside down. So, I concluded that a junkyard wasn't the right place for me.

Months passed before I made any effort of contacting sellers, which was likely because it was brought to my attention through the auto-searching process that $1000 isn't all that much. Before I made any knee-jerk reaction purchase, I would painstakingly inspect every pixel of a Craigslist post, and compare side-by-side prices, models, and most unfortunately of all, seller locations (which invariably would be placed as far away from my hometown of Chicago as possible) on eBay.

So with my $800 saved up from babysitting, chores, birthdays, and other miscellaneous methods, I had to have more if I had any hope of getting a ride. While on eBay searching for cars, my eyes slid upward to the "Sell" icon, and my mind played with the idea. I thought of the obsolete toys I had stockpiled in the basement, and contemplated selling them. The toys ranged from remote control cars, such as Zip-Zaps, XMODs, and even a gas-powered one, to K'nex toys, magazines, and Hot Wheels track sets. I made $300 in my first week, and have continued to make a profit ever since.

So that put me at around $1200 after taking into account the loads of birthday money I had accumulated this year. I actually had a chance this time to get a car! I continued my daily visit of Craigslist's Chicago "Autos + Trucks" listing, with a search query of "BMW" and a price range of "1 to 3000".

I will never forget the third of December, when I first laid eyes on possibly the most desirable and reasonable car listing I'd seen in months! For so long I had seen BMW E30 sellers that were simply out of their minds, with prices well into the 3000s of dollars. Twenty-plus-year-old cars don't belong to be priced nearly that high.

Over such a long period of time, I was relieved at the prospect of not looking over scores of listings, immediately looking if it was a manual, a two-door, and if it was a 325i, or a 325is, at least. Nothing else would suffice. And luckily for me, I came across the right car. It was a 1989 325is. The exact model, year, transmission, two-door car I silently wished for as my friends and family sang "Happy Birthday" before me and my birthday cake.

I was determined this was my car. I persistently sent e-mails to the seller daily. But because he was so congested with work that week, it wouldn't be until the weekend that he would respond. I asked for photos, and in the description, he said "runs good, good transmission, good clutch". Now this is rather typical rhetoric of what you'll find on Craigslist.

After a few back-and-forth e-mails, I eventually sent him my phone number, and on the Sunday night following, we talked, and talked and talked. I found out that he has two children, is a fellow member of the BMWCCA, and much like myself, is a fan of the classic E30 BMW look. He talked in-depth about the car, as I responded with casual "uh huhs", and "yeps", sometimes cutting him off unintentionally mid-sentence. At the end of the 40-minute conversation that boggled my mind how much he truly knows about cars, we decided that we would "keep in touch" and that it would be the next week that we would meet so that I could see the car.

Days passed, and I knew that my father would want to be there when I would make such a monumental purchase for my age. Keen to not purchase a "lemon", some days later, I waited for my father to return from his business trip in, you guessed it, Las Vegas. (Unlikely, I know. The place doesn't even sound business-y, does it?) We then got up on Saturday morning, and headed out in the constant rain pour. Using the MotionX GPS App on my iPhone, we eventually made it to the modest home in which my dream car was stored. We rang on the doorbell, and were greeted by a clearly "ethnic" lady as my father would later point out, with a maybe Polish accent. We walked past the medium-sized gray house to the garage that sat behind. We encountered a man with a prickly, black beard, glasses, and gray jeans and brown working boots with obvious paint smears on them.

I shook his hand assuringingly as I had spoken to him a few days prior and by text on the way there. We walked through the doorway of the three-car garage, and found a matte-red 1989 BMW 325is, a.k.a. the car of my dreams. It gazed at me just as intently as I did, only it looked better than it did in the photos he sent by e-mail. The interior was tan, and in all honesty, could be in better shape. Although the exterior was remarkably good, especially considering the price I payed for it.

Most notably, the rear bumper cover was cracked, and the basket-weave BBS wheels lacked their BMW badge caps. We talked for a good half hour, and my father sat in the driver's seat to operate the shifter knob and clutch. As I saw him approve of its robustness, I immediately anticipated the strategy I had planned ahead of time, which was to say "Will you take eleven-hundred?" and if that fails, say "Twelve-hundred?" and then if that fails, say "Twelve thirty? That's all I have". He then responded with "Twelve fifty and we have a deal". I looked to my right and said to my father, "Could you throw in an extra twenty dollars?" He took a bill out of his wallet, and we had a long-anticipated, and solid deal. Right after this tension, I recall him saying "Deal-maker of the century right here" as he went over to retrieve the title and papers.

We sorted the paperwork, and after that I shook his hand with vigor, sure to demonstrate my gratitude for accepting my admitted "low-ball". But I had no choice. I unfortunately didn't manage to make the full amount in time for our Saturday meet. As shameful as I felt moments after for doing this, because I can remember saying over the phone in our 40-minute conversation that "$1500 sounds right". I later found out he himself payed less for it when he bought it from the original Michigan owner, so that took away a good deal of the anxiety, as did the smile he finally let out as we took off in the car.

Currently, the car lacks a license plate, and is sitting in my father's spare hangar, being worked on by yours truly. So, as you can see, I am living a fantasy-a teenage boy finds a car he is in love with, has done much research for, gains friends, forms new, lasting relationships over, and modifies it and tunes it to his specific liking-and what a fantasy it is. Talk about your typical anime plot.

The Internet as a Public Community

Recently I watched a video by Jeff Jarvis detailing the pros and cons surrounding the publicness and conversely, the privateness of the internet. As my work here on Subcultural.blogspot.com, and my ventures on YouTube would indicate, I am a strong proponent of the internet as a public medium. We should be open and willing to share stories and anecdotes, thoughts and experiences, not fall prey to the Puritanical subculture that inconspicuously affects us every day, and thus be opposed to the pursuit of comfort through anonymity.

(Link here:) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pSqyEXLkrZ0

Yes, we should be open--but not excessively so. I can post images of myself, videos of myself, music by myself, blogs by myself, Tweets or Facebook statuses by myself that encompass myself and everything about myself.... Myself, myself, myself, etc. The internet certainly nurtures a culture of egotism. People will post something about themselves, they will get supportive comments, in the form of "Likes", "Diggs", "Thumbs Up", "Five Stars", whatever it be, and feel that much more confident about themselves. They will then take that positive energy into the outside world and may more fiercely, than they otherwise would, assert themselves in the public sphere, leading to social friction, tension, and a clashing of egos among similarly-minded egomaniacs.

And so, there are indeed two extremes of one's internet publicness. One being in the vein of a high school girl taking sexually suggestive photos of herself in her bathroom, with a whole array of Facebook albums to back that up, and the other being an oftentimes meek , anonymous internet "personality", if not, lack thereof that will from time to time post comment on CNN.com, ESPN.com, etc. And in addition to this "personality", is as Jarvis details, an enraged commentor, one who feels totally excluded, and thus senses he or she is behind the illustrious "wall". This "wall" implies the media's exclusivity to the creation of their content, in that it excludes the public from fully participating in a "Crowdsourcing" kind of way.

"Crowdsourcing" is a phrase coined by Jarvis himself, examples of which include websites such as BitMob.com, YouTube.com, Blogspot.com, and virtually any other blogging tool. These are inherently community-driven services that encourage contributors to contribute as much as possible, as a high a rate as possible, and in as high a quality as possible, all of which are incented by public recognition (as mentioned earlier, through comments, positive ratings).

Now back to the infamous "wall". It is what separates the communities of any enthusiast, political, or entertainment internet publication. It is what has its users post nasty, harsh, and brutal comments-it doesn't adequately allow for a two-way street as a proper conversation. In that, it doesn't equally value the comments as it does the original post. Commentors are seen as indiscriminant underlings in comparison to the initial creator, which couldn't be more backwards. Because you see, commentors, whose role it is to motivate the initial creators must create too! Only, they must create criticisms and render appropriate ratings. And in turn, it is up to the intial creators to absorb the [hopefully] constructive criticsms in hopes of further improving their content, whatever it be.

So as you can see, the internet is a tremendously cyclical form of media, and if its users fall back on their pseudonyms followed by a couple of supposedly "lucky" numbers, or hide behind their business desks and cubicles, their business positions, or salaries, the true voice, the true freedom of the internet as a place, as a destination will no longer exist as a result of government regulation. So it is our duty as internet users to proudly be who we are not solely in the physical space, but equally in cyberspace. This means we must use our full names whenever relevant, communicate to community contributors constructively what we like and dislike, and ultimately be respectful of our fellow users, because if we are true to ourselves-to our names-every user we come into contact with on the internet has an equally likely possibility to meet us in person some day and call us out on what we said. And who wants to get in a shouting match in public?