On what planet, I have to ask myself, am I worth impersonating? I mean, really?
Nonetheless, some bright spark on Twitter has duplicated the sidebar, the photos and the short bio of my Twitter account. The tweets, though, are so at variance with my tastes, nature, and general mode of expression that I feel like the narrator in William Wilson, except, instead of being stalked by my conscience, I'm being stalked by some sports-obsessed nimrod who thinks than masquerading as a cat-fancying middle aged lawyer enhances his sex appeal.
No accounting for tastes, mind you, but, as GOB Bluth would say:
I've reported it, of course, and hope that Twitter will execute the high, the middle and the low justice with its terrible swift sword.
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