Let’s be frank. You’re not honestly curious about me or my life. There’s an ulterior motive for you reading this page, and you’re very likely someone who falls into one of the following categories:
There’s only so much time you can spend watching cats play synth and clicking “Hide Farmville” (or whatever other disease of a game your monkeysphere is passing around this month). I know how it goes, eventually you’ve got to pretend to unplug before your brains start oozing out of your facial orifices. One way to pass the time is to just start surfing, and eventually you’ll land here. If this is you, congratulations on being among the least worrisome of all the people reading this page.
At some point you’ve fallen in love or hate with some aspect of my persona, and now you’re trying to figure out where I live. You’re the Black Swan of our little menagerie, in that you’re least likely to cause problems, but most likely to require police intervention if you do.
You know me in real life somehow, and are checking up on me. In this manner you’re worse than the Internet Creep, because you actually do know me, and could just ask me the question you’d like answered.
I’ve known people working as collections agents and prison guards, so I imagine that the online background check is somewhat similar in terms of the attitude: Well, you shouldn’t have been skipping bills/getting arrested/posting that party photo or political rant online! Tough luck that you can’t get this job! If I’m wrong on that, feel free to contact me and let me know that attitude doesn’t factor into it.
I should point out that while it’s part of the job, it doesn’t make it less creepy, it just makes it creepy in a highly-organized, stamp-out-The-Other sort of way. It also means that nobody who is going to do anything important with their life will ever work anywhere near you.