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Malice In I Wonder Who I Am Land (standard:humor, 912 words)
Author: GodspenmanAdded: Mar 29 2006Views/Reads: 1641/948Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
For many years I maintained confidence in my personal identity. I knew exactly who I was and was quite comfortable in my skin. Although, I must confess my skin used to fit me better than it does these days.
 



For many years I maintained confidence in my personal identity. I knew
exactly who I was and was quite comfortable in my skin. Although, I 
must confess my skin used to fit me better than it does these days. 

Recently several things happened to shake this confidence in my person.
I don't know about anyone else, but I take pride in my personal mettle. 


About two months ago my credit card company informed me somebody hacked
into their records and stole my identity, along with approximately one 
million other customers. They went on to assure me that my account 
would be safe. 

It wasn't my money I was worried about at the time but my identity. How
can anybody steal someone else's identity? 

More important than that, why would anybody want to steal somebody
else's identity? Especially somebody like me. 

In thinking about this I wondered, how much can I charge someone for
borrowing my identity? I might have a cottage industry here in the 
making. Or, perhaps it's just cottage cheese. 

I could understand if I were a good looking, rich tycoon with more
dollars than sense. I've been looking for money all my life and have 
been unsuccessful. I am so poor some church mice have loaned me a 
dollar or two over the years. And if I ever see those mice again I aim 
to repay those loans. 

The way I feel about it is if anyone can get money out of my account,
good luck to them, because I can never get money out of my account when 
I need it. In fact, I have a good mind to find these identity thieves 
and ask how they're getting money out of my account. 

I'd pay good money to find the secret to that puzzle. 

The ATM at my bank stands for Automatic Thief Machine. It holds me up
from getting to my next appointment with cash and never returns my 
card. 

A second incident furthered my identity malaise. A few days ago, the
Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage and Yours Truly were in a little bit 
of a tight spot. Actually, it was I in the tight spot, which is nothing 
new for me. 

I can't remember the events leading up to the spot I found myself but my
wife looked at me, placed both hands on her hips and declaimed, Who do 
you think you are? 

At the time, I did not know quite how to answer that philosophical
inquiry. I mean, she has known me for over 35 years ,and for her not to 
know who I am at this point is just a little bit puzzling to me. 

At the time, I must confess, I was a little confused about who she
thought she was. Being the gentleman I am, I kept my befuddlement to 
myself. 

My selfhood perplexity deepened. One day this week, I was going about
minding my own business n which is a full-time job with part-time pay 
and no benefits n when I bumped into an old friend. After we exchanged 
a few pleasantries, he looked at me and said, Is there anything wrong? 
You don't look yourself today. 

Now, the question plaguing my mind was simply, if I don't look like me,
who in the world do I look like? 

I simply smiled and mumbled something to the effect that recently
somebody had stolen my identity. Frankly, I was surprised someone 
noticed it. 

In thinking about this, I wondered when someone's identity is lost where
does it go? Is there a lost and found department somewhere for lost 
identities? 

Then an awful thought tugged at my mind. What if someone lost their


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