A few years back, pal and collaborator Raymond Scott Daigle wrote and directed Replica, a night-in-the-life ode to? corporate copy shop clones on the brink of revolt. The film ably combined guerrilla filmmaking (every frame was stolen, on-location, at an operating copy shop, during business hours) with a sardonic nod to the auteur’s own biography (Daigle’s early CV is dotted with several tours-of-duty in duplication destinations). Having appeared in the film, it was oddly affirming to spy a sign for Replica Copy, near the University of California, Berkeley campus. A case of life imitating art imitating life? Or, is the original just jammed in the photocopier of philosophy?