Looks like Salam Pax's identity will soon be the world's biggest open secret.

His latest post mentioned an afternoon he spent at the Hamra Hotel pool, reading a borrowed copy of The New Yorker. I laughed out loud. He then mentioned an escapade in which he helped deliver 24 pizzas to American soldiers. I howled. Salam Pax, the most famous and most mysterious blogger in the world, was my interpreter. The New Yorker he had been reading—mine.

From Slate.

I have to say, I'm quite pleased at how this is all turning out.

Plus, the article contains one of the funniest lines of all time.

He was amazed at the length of the stories [in the New Yorker]. "They go on and on," he remarked. "They start in one place, go somewhere else, then to another place. They are, like, endless."