My evil DNC-hating dopplenganger and other junk

This is kind of a funny story, but it takes a lot to follow, so you might have to read this twice (or depending how well I write it, three times).

I had a neighbor named Donna, who moved away from Amesbury 20 years ago. Out of nowhere she called my dad two weeks ago and said, "Mike, I can't believe that Byron writes for the Boston Metro (a free daily paper given away in the subway)."

For some reason my dad said, "Yeah. How about that?" Even though I don't write for the Boston Metro. Then Donna said to him, "I'll send you the paper." My dad says cool and hangs up the phone.

My mom calls me a few days later and relays the story to me. I know that I don't work at the metro, but still I think, "Hmmmm. Interesting. Maybe I did write something." The reason why I say this is because in March Aly and I entered a contest on Boston.com to come up with a slogan that would get gay people to visit Boston.

My second choice "Boston is absolutely hub-ulous!" What was my first one? "In Boston you'd only be the second most hated minority in town!" Ok, the first one was the true one and one of the copy desk people at the Boston Globe called me and said they were going to print the quip. The thing was I looked in the next day's edition, and it was never there. So I assumed that this "article" was simply the pithy quote I made up.

Fast forward a week, I see my parents they bring the paper. It's not an article, it's not the horrible pun, it is a letter to the editor shooting down the Democratic National Convention. I read it once, I read it twice. It was by a very angry man that his city was being closed down by the Democrats.

The problem was I never wrote it. It had my name, but I never wrote it. It's not like I have a very common name, so this has kind of bugged me a bit.

Why would someone write this and sign my name? It wasn't inflamatory, it wasn't particularly funny, it was a well, thought out rant against the Democrats. I should probably email the Metro, but I haven't had the time.