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April 2, 2002 identity crisis The ransom note that appeared on my computer monitor two months ago read: We have your identity.  Do not contact the police; if you do, you will never see your identity again.  Await further instructions. I had read about "identity theft," but I never thought it would happen to me.  Were they serious?  And who were "they?"  I ran to the bathroom and looked in the mirror.  No reflection.  I knew I wasn't a vampire so I concluded rather quickly that, in fact, my identity had been kidnaped.  Those fiends! But what should I do?  I thought for a while and it occurred to me I wasn't that thrilled with my identity anyway.  Truthfully, I didn't even miss it.  So I did nothing and awaited the kidnappers' instructions.  It was only a day before a new message appeared on my computer screen: As you can see....  Well, can't see, we have stolen your identity.  And not just your reflection, either.  We have your personality, your likes, your dislikes, your habits.... everything.  we've kidnaped your life!  If you do not pay our demand of $50,000, you can kiss your life and everything in it good-bye. I did nothing.  I neither called the police nor replied to the ransom demand.  Within days, I received the following e-mail: How the hell do you do this sober?  Tell you what.  We'll release your identity for $25,000.  But not a penny less.  Please reply. I did reply: Dear Kidnappers....  I was way tired of being me.  You can keep my Self.  Later.... That evening, I received another note from the kidnappers: Ha, ha!  That's a good one!  But, seriously, let's talk turkey.  Your unrelenting depression and self-loathing are starting to wear thin.  Not that we can't take it, mind you.  But we're in a generous mood so we'll give you back the whole enchilada--sobriety, depression, loneliness--just five grand.  Oh, and we'll throw in the melon-sized prostate, no extra charge. I gave them the silent treatment.  A few days later, they wrote: So.  You want to play rough, do you?  You really think we're going to sit here, stone-ass sober, while the family you never get to see spends your hard-earned money like drunken politicians?  You think it's easy living in exile without so much as a cat to keep you company?  Ha!  We're giving you back your shitty life.  What do you think about that? I replied: No, thanks. This went on for days....  The kidnappers trying to unload the identity they'd stolen, me trying not to take it back.  But, eventually, I got it all back--the misery, the sobriety, the frequent nocturnal urinations--and they threw in $100,000. As it turned out, they had taken everything except my hope.

©  2002 by the beastmaster