"Can you tell I've got a hair up my ass? A horse hair thick enough for rope? A chip on the shoulder's trivial: flick it off, it's gone. Hair up the poop-shoot is hard to get hold of even when you want to (grabbing your nose at the exact instance of extraction or else). I don't want to sell myself. I don't want to have to construct my identity on-line or anywhere else, socially or professionally. I know who the hell I am; I know what I've done. If you don't have a clue, especially with so much available on the web, well, you don't have a clue."