It is my theory that for every person on Earth, even your mother, there exists at least one bizarro: a person that looks, acts and sounds uncomfortably similar to someone you know.  On occasion, one of these awkward doppelgangers will appear, loping or shuffling in and out of our lives with no rhyme or reason.  And when they do, an uncomfortable question arises: where is my bizarro, and what is he doing?  Is he doing my my visage justice? Or is he a pervert or a shyster, polluting my reputation all across America, or, as I often fear, Eastern Europe (Eastern Europe seems like it would be a breeding ground for bizarros).  Knowing that there is a twisted, mirror of yourself meandering across the Earth is disturbing.

I should know.  It is a fact that I’ve already faced.

I present, for the pleasure of the Blommit court, a picture of me, and a picture of my (only known) bizarro me.

Me:

Bizarro Me, aka, Caleb Followill of the popular American rock and roll band, Kings of Leon:

Such a likeness brings up a difficult question, one that I am afraid to intellectually confront:

If your bizarro is cooler than you,
does that make you
the bizarro him?

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