Fame at last, without the fame.

I received one of those annoying joke emails today.  They’re usually more of an irritating distraction than an amusing diversion.  This one had come from a very close friend and, unusually, I enjoyed reading it immensely.  It looked as if it had come from America but it hadn’t.

It was one of my own articles and it had been picked up somewhere, probably the JC website, and was now floating around in the internet ocean like a great big oil slick.   No wonder I enjoyed reading it, I later mused.

I decided to do a Google search for the article and found that it had made its way, without acknowledgement, onto several websites in America and Canada, with ever such slight changes in the wording for those audiences.

Flattered, and yet feeling a sense of injustice, I contacted those website owners asking them to add my nom de plume.  Some did immediately, others have still not.  Ach, so what?

The friend who sent it to me has no idea that I am the original author.  The only people who know my true identity are one or two people at the JC and my wife.  Not my parents, not my children, not my doctor, not even my rabbi, boruch Hashem.

And so here I sit, the originator of one of those stupid viral emails, and nobody, except my wife, to be famous for.

Perhaps that’s how it should be.

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