There is the Kevin Stilley who works for the Natural Resources Conservation Service of the United States Department of Agriculture somewhere in Louisiana.
There is the Kevin Stilley who was Mr. Gay Kansas.
There is the Kevin Stilley who leads a car club somewhere in the midwest.
And, even though I find no record of him on the internet, there is evidently a Kevin Stilley who is a dairy farmer.
A couple of years ago Susan and I left our kids with my brother and sister-in-law and headed off to Kansas City for a very, very rare evening alone. We stayed downtown in the historic Hotel Phillips . When we checked in the desk clerk said to me, “Mr. Stilley I am afraid that you missed the buffet tonight.” I knew nothing about a buffet and said something like, “Oh, you have buffet?”
“Why, yes sir, there was buffet served at this evening’s meetings. I am sorry you were delayed and did not make it in time to attend the earlier sessions.”
“Why yes sir. However, the plenary session of dairy farmers is taking place right now. Would you like us to send your bags on up to your room so you can go straight to the meeting?”
“Yes? You did say Kevin Stilley didn’t you?”
“Yes, but I am not here for a meeting of dairy farmers.”
To cut this story short, there was another Kevin Stilley staying in the hotel that night. The odds of that must be almost as remote as they are of finding a Republican in Hollywood.
Well, if you are not a usual reader of this blog and happened to find it via Google search. I am not the Kevin Stilley who is an environmentalist, I am not Mr. Gay Kansas, I am not the leader of an automobile club, . . . but I might be persuaded to assume the identity of a dairy farmer if it would get me a free buffet.