Apparently, I'm the Nic Cage Guy Now? Awesome.

Thanks to my unabashed and -- by unanimous consensus, unhealthy -- lust for things such as bacon and root beer, friends and family often kindly go out of their way to pass on interesting news stories about said topics... or, when they are feeling particularly generous, to buy me associated products. Off the top of my head, I can think of many items given to me: a bacon chocolate bar (consumed with a quizzical, yet satisfied, look on my face); membership to a Root Beer of the Month Club (the only thing I looked forward to for three months straight); random obscure root beers from distant lands (consumed with gratitude); a bacon air freshener (presently stinking up my car); a bacon-bits-topped chocolate muffin (surprisingly good); and, gummy candy that looked uncannily like bacon. You get the idea: There are advantages to publicizing what you like.

I'm afraid, however, that my thorough and accurate analysis from a while back about Mr. Nic Cage and the trajectory of his career (disclaimer: I realize "downward spiral" may not technically be a trajectory for you physics nerds, but deal with it) may have conveyed that I want to know everything I can about the guy.

First, there was an article that Google News somehow inferred that I wanted to read about him while he is out promoting his new movie, in which he shared his own personal experience with home invasion. I will only paste an excerpt:

"It was two in the morning. I was living in Orange County at the time and was asleep with my wife. My two-year old at the time was in another room. I opened my eyes and there was a naked man wearing my leather jacket eating a Fudgesicle in front of my bed," he told reporters on Wednesday.

"I know it sounds funny ... but it was horrifying."

A Fudgesicle is a frozen, ice cream-like snack.

 (Reuters seeing fit to explain what a fudgesicle is is probably the best part of the article.)

Anyway, yesterday, I got this email from my sister about a man who found an 1870s photograph of a Nic Cage doppelganger. The email simply said, "This made me think of you." Behold the photo:

Give him a Hawaiian shirt and some longer, dishevelled hair, and you have Raising Arizona

I'm all about old photos, but you have to admit that 1870s photography didn't quite capture the crazy of Nic Cage like modern film does. I present to the jury Exhibit A & B and rest my case:

Anyway, apparently I am not only "The Bacon Guy" and "The Root Beer Guy" -- appellations I am very proud of -- but I am now also "The Nic Cage Guy." The only time I felt more misunderstood was when a Japanese man heard me speaking my 4-month old Japanese and asked "Anata wa seishinbyo ja nai*?"

*You're retarded, right?