Imitation Game
They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. For some reason, though, they usually chop off the end of that Oscar Wilde quote. Here’s the full quote: “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery that mediocrity can pay to greatness.”
I was in high school the first time someone brought that quote to my attention. I was the assistant couch for the middle school flag football team. One Halloween, a dozen players came to school dressed like me. The Michael Estrin costume was easy to pull off. Everyday, I wore jeans and a grey t-shirt — sort of like Steve Jobs with his black turtlenecks. What can I say? Great minds…
Last week, I caught someone pretending to be me on Substack Notes. I wasn’t flattered, though. Despite the obvious typos, I was worried that someone who likes my stories might mistakenly believe that I was endorsing some scammer’s get-rich-quick scheme. For the record, I believe the best way to get rich is slowly, and no I’m not rich yet.
A bunch of people reported the scammer, and Substack removed the account. A reader named Amy had the best response: “I guess imitation is the sincerest form of bottery.” I probably should’ve stolen that joke and passed it off as my own. Good artists copy, great artists steal — which is a line everyone steals from Steve Jobs, who stole it from Pablo Picasso.
Speaking of stealing, another scammer claiming to be Michael Estrin tried to steal my paycheck last week. No joke. They emailed my employer, but thankfully an eagle-eyed staffer spotted the problem.
When shit like this happens, my father would always say, “That’s life in the big city.” I don’t know why big communities are more susceptible to scammers than small communities, but as far as communities go, it doesn’t get much bigger than the internet. According to the FBI, online scammers stole a record $16.6 billion in 2024. Part of the problem, I think, is that it’s easy to impersonate someone online, and new AI tools make it even easier. Of course, many of us saw this problem coming, especially those of us who read the New Yorker in the 1990s.
Peter SteinerI’m not a dog, nor have I pretended to be one on the internet. I’m happy being Michael Estrin. But I’ll admit that sometimes I wish I was the other Michael Estrin, aka the baller software engineer who routinely gets high-paying job offers sent to his my inbox.
Email sent to the wrong Michael Estrin, aka me, in 2022If I could just be that Michael Estrin, I could get rich quick. I wouldn’t even have to learn to code, because from what I hear, AI codes better than it writes. But how could I sleep at night, knowing that I was an imposter? Honestly, I think I’d go to pieces. As Sammy Davis Jr. and Tony Bennett said, “I’ve gotta be me.” Trouble is, far too many people wanna be like Mike.
Shout out time!Situation Normal is free, but a handful of situation normies pay so I can keep my Substack bestseller badge, which is in fact, our bestseller badge. Big shout out to for upgrading to a paid subscription! Erika, good vibes are headed your way, thank you!
A book for people who 💙 this newsletterBig thank you to the situation normies who have purchased & read my novel, Not Safe for Work. I love hearing from you, whether you leave a review, or drop me a line. And if you haven’t bought the bought, you should! Because if you love Situation Normal, there’s an 11 in 10 chance you’ll laugh your butt off reading my slacker noir set in the porn industry at the dawn of Web 2.0.
Not Safe for Work is available at Amazon and all the other book places.
*The ebook is .99, so you can’t go too far wrong. Just sayin’.
Stick around and chat!Are you an imposter? Spill it!
Do you have a work / school / life uniform like Steve Jobs or high school Michael Estrin? Dish!
How do you get rich? Explain.
Aren’t there better, more sincere ways to flatter someone? Go deep!
Support Absurdist Acts of Journalism: Charles Manson BurgerThe news is weird, and I believe that when the going gets weird, the weird turn semi-pro. To wit: I’ve eaten a burrito from the middle, found the courage to tell the truth about Courage Bagels, and done yoga with goats. Most recently, I rode in a robo taxi and lived to write about it.
Now, it’s time for my next act of absurdist journalism: Eating at The Munch Box, a historic (and poorly named) Chatsworth burger joint frequented by Charles Manson. Is this a story that needs to be told? No. Will it be told? That’s up to you. I estimate that this story will cost around $20 for a burger, fries, and a drink. To make this story happen, send any amount via PayPal.
