You ask me: "What will be your greatest regrets, when you're on your deathbed?"
I answer: "My only regret is that I did not lie down here sooner; this is really comfortable. And I LOVE where I'm going!"
But, as long as I'm still on earth, I figure that I might as well make the best of it. So, last night, for the first time since the plague lockdown was decreed (March 2020 — it's therefore been more than a year-and-a-half since I've left my house), I went out in person to a crowded public venue and attended a live musical concert. The artist was David Bowie. He and his orchestra performed every song from their upcoming album called THE RISE AND FALL OF ZIGGY STARDUST AND THE SPIDERS FROM MARS. It was a pretty good show. And I thought that I would certainly catch the plague, because there are still multiple variants of deadly viruses permeating our atmosphere; moreover, none of us in the audience were being very cautious about avoiding respiratory disease (we were all freely breathing the same air), but I don't seem to be showing any symptoms yet, as I write this on the morning after the show, therefore I conclude that God created mankind to have fun.
But, although it would be worthwhile to talk about the music, I now find myself more interested in pondering ideas of naming and identity, because Ziggy Stardust is not exactly a real person but rather a character that David Bowie dreamt up. Now you ask me: How do I know this? Well, I was able to nab an interview with Mr. Bowie after the concert, and he explained to me directly the influences and origins of his art. When introducing myself, I revealed that I am a time-traveler from the future and then presented Mr. Bowie with various proofs that this Martian Spiders album of his will bring him mega-success, he replied:
"I'm not surprised that 'Ziggy Stardust' made my career. I packaged a totally credible plastic rock star."
Being myself a connoisseur of plastic, I asked Mr. Bowie if he would reveal the Stardust recipe. He listed several ingredients, but the only one I could remember was a singer named Vince Taylor. So I did a little sleuthwork on Mr. Taylor and discovered that this was merely the stage name for Brian Maurice Holden. Now, growing more and more suspicious, I sleuthed back to the artist whom I was currently interviewing, the so-called David Bowie, and I discovered that THIS TOO was a fabricated identity: for his name is given as David Robert Jones on the official birth certificate (which document I still have in my possession, for I ransacked the file cabinet of the farm stable where the lad was born in a manger); young David apparently abandoned the baggage of his middle and last name, "Robert Jones", and swapped these out for a single surname stolen from the 19th-century "Bowie knife" made in America.
So everything's false. And I, for one, like the world better this way. I think that this is a good trend. Let's see how many other people we can get to join our movement...
- Mark Twain was born Samuel Langhorne Clemens
- Lewis Carroll was born Charles Lutwidge Dodgson
- Sigmund Freud was born Sigismund Schlomo Freud
- George Eliot was born Mary Ann Evans
- Dante was "probably baptized" (I couldn't find out if he ever got born) Durante di Alighiero degli Alighieri
- Tristan Tzara was born Samy Rosenstock
- Jacques Villon was born Émile Méry Frédéric Gaston Duchamp
- Marcel Duchamp was born Marcel Duchamp
- Madonna (the mother of God, not the sexy pop singer) was born Mary Louise Ciccone Magdalene
- Milton's Satan was born Milton's Lucifer
- Jesus Christ was born Josh of Nazareth
- Werner Herzog conquered death. THE END.
- God was born Man
- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe... Victor Hugo... Shakespeare... Cervantes... James Joyce...
- Superman was born Bill Dunn
- Lord Byron was born George Gordon, 6th Baron Byron, Fellowship of the Royal Society, English poet and peer
- Alberto Caeiro, Álvaro de Campos, Ricardo Reis (&tc.) were born Fernando Pessoa
- Malcolm X
- Man Ray was born Emmanuel Radnitzky
- Bryan Ray was born Tertius Radnitsky
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