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Jason Lee Ponders Nature of Existence Following Fake Jason Lee Facebook Profile’s Deletion

 

Recently, a fake Jason Lee profile appeared on Facebook, adding Dentonites young and old and engaging with them as if the profile operator was not only a famed Hollywood actor, but an intimate friend as well. However, Fake Jason Lee burned as quickly as he did brightly, and within two weeks, thus returned to the ether from whence he emerged. In the aftermath of the profile’s deletion, while a town mourns, its favorite son considers his own mortality.

 

On a solitary hill at Rayzor Ranch, overlooking the vast commercial expansion across the street, sits Jason Lee, bleary-eyed and disheveled. Staring at an accusing moon that pierces through the inky blue evening like a spotlight from God. Here, the spotlight shines upon the earthen stage and illuminates its brightest actor, as he wonders what act this is for him.

 

“I—Have I ever been a real person?” muses Lee, stroking his beard and wiggling his bare toes as he follows the cars whizzing past him with tired eyes. “If a fake Facebook profile cherished by some two thousand people can disappear overnight, then what fate awaits any of us? Are we all just clicks away from oblivion?” He furrows his eyebrows in deep thought and brings his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his now folded legs. Gazing at the ground in silence for a lifetime of five minutes. Eventually, he looks up at our correspondent, and says, “To some people, it was just a silly profile, but to me it was like looking into a mirror. And y’know, when someone takes away the mirror how do you know what you look like?”

 

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The inner turmoil facing the co-owner of Barley and Board has not gone unnoticed by patrons.

 

“The menu’s all weird now,” says Wanda Higginbotham, a frequent diner at the brewpub. “I used to always get the ‘Parisian Gnocchi,’ but now the ‘Large Plates’ section of the menu, where it’s usually listed, has been replaced by a black oval labeled, ‘Where We All Go Someday.’ Then, when I ask for the gnocchi anyways, he [Lee] came to our table and asked me if I believe my life is inherently meaningful. Next thing I know he is lying down on the ground… and he stayed that way until the restaurant closed. Unbelievable!”

 

When pressed for a comment regarding the service recently at his restaurant, Lee grabbed a handful of dirt, smelled it, and offered it to our correspondent, saying, “This is what birthed both gnocchi and Man, and to this, gnocchi and Man alike will one day return.” He then let the dirt trickle through his hand, weeping and watching it blow away in the wind.

 

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