Every now and then, the people at Google kindly let me know when someone I have never heard of mentions my name on the internet—or, for that matter, that of any of the world’s many other James Bowmans, including the inventor of the incandescent lightbulb (What? You thought it was Thomas Edison?); the father of President Obama’s closest advisor, Valerie Jarrett; or the eminent British countertenor, who must have one of the most extensive discographies of any performing artist in the world. One such notice arrived the other day, linking to a microblogging website called identi.ca on which one D. Jason Fleming had delivered himself of the following opinion: “The more I read James Bowman, the more evil I am convinced he is. Intelligent, but vile. I just can’t decide whether he knows it.” Gosh! Not only do I not know it, but, at the risk of discourtesy to Mr. Fleming, whoever he may be, I don’t believe it either.

He offered no further elaboration of his opinion, no single example of my vileness—or anagrammatic evilness—just the bald assertion. That’s microblogging for you, I guess. He may, of course, have meant one of the other James Bowmans, but I have a bad feeling that he must have meant me. I don’t know of any other James Bowman who is writing on a regular basis. So there’s that. There is, or was until recently, a blogger in Chicago, but he goes by Jim and, as a devout Catholic,