Gene Weingarten: Leggo my Lego

My pain is of a different nature. I am outraged that your company chose to profit through the appropriation of my image, without my permission, consent or even passive acceptance. When coupled with the negative barefoot-trauma reputation of your product, this damages my “brand,” resulting in a tortious civil wrong for which I intend to exact heavy monetary compensation. I attempted to speak with a company exec to express my outrage and perhaps work out a mutually acceptable financial accommodation but was turned down by your PR firm, so this notice must suffice.

I am writing in reference to a figurine that was part of a series issued by your company in 2016. Alert reader M. Carrie Allan, who writes about cocktails and spirits for The Washington Post, alerted me to this tortious legal wrong. The figurine in question was part of a Beatles-themed “Yellow Submarine” Lego set, and your company disingenuously contended this one represented a likeness of John Lennon. It is instantly apparent that this is, in fact, not Mr. Lennon at all but a near perfect representation of me.

To press my claim, I have amassed evidence, interviewed experts and obtained legal advice. For example, I consulted the greatest living authority on reproduction of my face — the cartoonist who draws it nearly every single week. Asked to comment on the figurine, Alex Fine said, “I think if I was sent this anonymously with no identifying information, I’d assume Lego was releasing a new ‘Shagadelic Gene’ figure as part of some Austin Powers Lego set. I definitely would not have guessed John Lennon.”

The distinction is evident. A little-known fact about John Lennon is that, in person, he was a ginger: redheaded, and rather startlingly so. Your Lego product makes no effort to replicate that hue, nor does it part his hair neatly in the middle, as was John’s custom. Instead, its hair is black, like mine, and raggedly scuttles onto his forehead like the tonsure of a Tibetan yak left out in the rain. Just like me.

Now, I know what you are thinking. You are thinking that, legally, I have no leg to stand on. You would be wrong. I asked Lawrence Townsend, the renowned Silicon Valley intellectual property lawyer with 40 years’ experience, to make my best case, theoretically, and he began speaking jubilantly and did not stop for a while.

“You may well be entitled not just to the profits they made from this figurine but damages caused to you therefrom. Just look at the robotic hands on this figure, with their pincer grips, like something from an assembly line. A soulless machine. You are not a machine. Your reputation is of a creative person, a free-ranging humorist. It’s damaging. And the blatant hair-color discrepancy? A telltale sign of intent.”

I asked him if this was a winning theory, and he said, and I quote: “Well, it’s definitely a theory.”

So there you have it, Lego toys. I am willing to accept, as settlement, as many $20 bills as can be crammed into a standard-size valise and mailed to my home. Alternatively, for the sake of humanity, I will accept your company’s assurance that in the future all Lego bricks and figurines will be made of foam rubber.

Email Gene Weingarten at weingarten@washpost.com. Find chats and updates at washingtonpost.com/magazine.

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