You killed my father.  Prepare to die.

I’m going to abuse my demigod-like status to deal with a housekeeping topic that vexes me: handle-hopping.

That one quirk drove me fucking bugnuts at H&R, with people changing handles so often, that I had no idea who I was talking to.  H&R, and now, Glibiteria, is a reputation-based economy.  If we don’t know who you are, we can’t judge the value of your opinion.  And our mongoloid trolls would use this to their advantage.   (Hi KK!)

So, as one of your apparently friendly landlords, I plead with you, just don’t.  Keep the same handle you rode in with and if you had a different, non-woodchipper handle that we all came to know and cautiously love you under, use that one.   Make this place better than the place we left behind.  It’s the viscous glue that holds the community together.  At least, I think that’s glue.

So, don’t make me angry, by handle-hopping.  You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.