I'm hurt that no one ever thought
  highly enough about me to steal
  my identity. I wouldn't want to
  but I know how boring it all is.
  I'm not rich. I'm married to Jane.
  She's complex. She's wonderful and
  horrid. She's just like me. Complex.
  We bend. We roll our eyes. We see
  our flaws and ignore them anyway.
  Who wouldn't steal this identity?