or Where I Am Faced With Serious Identity Issues…

About two or three times a month I am accosted in the street by people who invariably say “Excuse me, Mister Alan Lee?” Generally I reply “No, I’m the other guy.” or something equally intelligent and otherwise eloquent, but I’m beginning to seriously wonder.

I mean, we look nothing alike – Alan’s beard is shorter, my hair longer, I dress like a slob, Alan is dapper and chipper and all that, he positively radiates a rare benevolence and magnaminity, I scowl and slouch and frown. Alan’s gaze is dreamy and I squint and knit my brows. Alan ambles, I speedwalk. How is it possible?

Anyway, I’ve decided to react. Either Alan dyes his hair blue or red and puts on 50 lbs, or I’ll reply “Yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” and do a positively lamentable sketch and sign “With love, Alan” on the spot… [More]