Careful, I am a fox. You may have seen me around in recent years, on product boxes, in various advertisements, as the mascot for disreputable universities. This should not be. At heart, I feel I am a delightful little fox, nibbling on tasty treats, occasionally wrestling with a few sheep. I keep to myself. I donate to NPR. I watched Live Earth. Yet I am a victim, just one of thousands every month. I am a victim of identity theft.
When it first went down, I thought, "How could this happen to me? I'm just a fox. I don't even have a credit card." I soon learned that they could take more than just a few numbers and passwords. They took my face, my fur, my essence -- those poachers of the credit card on my soul!
I tried to move on with my life, but I was bitter. No longer could I nibble on treats quite so tasty. Sheep were flavorless. On NPR, I waited, waited for them not to tell me, but my heart wasn't in it. I just wanted them to tell me and be done with it. I was defiled, and I watched my identity get plastered all over intellectual and actual property. Now, I must speak out. I must reclaim the identity that was taken, viciously and unscrupulously from me, a once care-free fox.
- NO, I am not the fox of the television network, FOX, who tragically died of dehydration and embarrassment because he thought he could dance.
- NO, I am not the FireFox that hugs a blue earth. I like the earth, but I have never hugged anything, except to steady a timid sheep who thought it could get away but couldn't because, if it took the time to get to know me a little bit, it would know that I'm not a pansy like the aforementioned FireFox.
- NO, I am not the Star Fox who has a laser gun and pilots a space ship. Though it would be beneficial for the moon sheep, I have never been able to breath in outer space. Or hold a laser gun, which would be beneficial for earth sheep as well.
- NO, I am not the fox who works for the emergency service, 9-1-1. This is not a fox but a monster, possibly lobotomized. Notice the cold, vacant stare. He is lewd and dances bottomless, yet still wears a belt.
- NO, I am not the adjective 'foxy,' although I appreciate the compliment.
- NO, I am not Jamie Foxx. I did not care for Ray.
Now that's out of the way, we can get down to the business of honesty. Identity theft is an assault on the truth, and we foxes tell inconvenient truths: WHO I AM is the Fox Confessor who brings the flood. The one and only.
Deal with it.
A tumor of guilt has lodged itself in my stomach.
All this talk of honesty is making my fox eyes tear. You see, I've left out some crucial facts about my case. This puts me in a troublesome and awkward position. We foxes have the reputation for being sly, for lurking in truth's basement. And part of this whole thing is to dispel some of the fox myths that have built up over years of neglecting my identity theft. So, no more will I beat around the bush in which I was previously hiding. Come clean, that's the new fox way.
WHO I AM is a thief. Yes, it is true. I have stolen an identity as well. "An Egregious Act of Irony" will be my charge when I plead my case to the Poetic Justice of the Peace. They will through books upon books at this little fox, for I am but an impostor of the real Fox Confessor.
I am the re-issue. Neko Case, the sultry ranch-hand who tends the soft sheep of whom I like to innocently tussle in a Tom Sawyer sort of way, has decided to re-release Fox Confessor Brings the Flood with a bonus disc of five tracks. She's touring with The New Pornographers and continuing to re-release Furnace Room Lullaby and Blacklisted, fine albums that came before me and my original identity.
Poor fox, you're saying. Don't say it. I've duped you, just as you thought I might! Maybe I'm a victim, maybe I'm a thief, maybe all this has been a lie because my reputation precedes me. But did I not warn you? Perhaps not even that is worth taking at face-value from a fox. Let it serve to remind you never to trust the confessions of a fox, not even this one. Careful.