This is a dream I had over the weekend. I woke up feeling very guilty.

In gay me news:
As you all probably know, my name is Brent Kinkade. Spelt with a "kade" instead of the most popular "caid".

My whole life people have called me Brian and misspelled my name. Even people who've known me for years will misspell my name when signing me up for a league sport.

"And at third base we have Brent K-I-N-C-A-I-D."

"Dude, you don't even know me!"

This sort of thing doesn't bother me any more. "Hello, Brian Kincortez," they say, and Brian Kincortez I become.

But, just out of curiosity I wondered what would happen if an old classmate or slightly retarded family member wanted to look me up.

What would they find if they Googled "Brent Kincaid".

GAY OIL PAINTINGS! "Blow Job Buddies Presents: Brent Kincaid's homo-erotic Paintings".

"I guess we really didn't know him," they'll say, "Dude, really liked painting men in leather with their stuff just hanging in the wind."
Violent Stick People
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