Long ago, I worked in the vault room of a large retail store. A secure, windowless room, the vault's daily sameness was driving me nuts. In a feeble bid for some entertainment, I began collecting defaced one-dollar bills.
Artist: "George, you could go anywhere and people would recognize you. You could walk into a bar and the bartender would see you and say, 'George Washington! Let me set one up for you, Sir, on the house!'"
George: "At this time, that is probably true, though I would rather have been recognized by people who have studied their history lessons rather than only having seen me on paper currency."
Artist: "Yeah, if you went to the store someone would hold up your dollar bill and ask you if they'd seen you somewhere before. Then they'd ask you about the cherry tree."
George: "A good reason not to have to walk through the market any longer."
Artist: "You'd have to wear dark glasses and grow a beard if you wanted to go to the movies or a drugstore to keep people from bugging you ... "
George: "Not again. Why do you people feel compelled to -- "
Artist: "It's the whole colonial image, George. You have to find a new persona to run around in."
George: "I am not going to 'run around' anywhere."
Artist: "Come on. Cool blue turtleneck, Matrix shades, and a little bit of ornamentation on the ol' face ... "
George: "That stupid circling beard makes my cheeks look as fat as when I had a toothache."
Artist: "But George, stay focused here. Would your own mother know you in this getup?"
George: "She most certainly would not!"
Artist: "See? And you could have gone undercover and infiltrated the British during the war!"
George: "You are mistaken. The British would have locked me up on sight for being insane had I masqueraded in this mess."
Artist: "What, George? You look pretty thoughtful to me."
George: "I wonder how the Indians would have reacted ... "
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