Man, I Sure Don't Like This


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Looks like they were newborn twins that didn't make it. Sad for sure.

But you think that's so bad? If you Google my name and city together what comes up is a lurid story from over a decade ago about a namesake of mine who was a serial wife beater. It's largely a character study about anger management and impulse control, and you have to do a lot of reading before you get to the resolution, that he was shot dead during an intervention by the police. Hopefully no prospective business contacts or inquiring old friends have thought this was me. I've actually brought it up ahead of time, with good humor, in cases where I know someone's probably going to be investigating me.

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A friend of mine from Brazil, Francisco, actually went to his own funeral. True story.

During one period in his life, he often took off for a few days and didn't tell his family where he was going. As he was in high-level backroom politics, this was a normal lifestyle for him. His family just went along, seeing as how they lived in the lap of luxury because of it.

Francisco lived in a northern coastal city called Natal (in Rio Grande do Norte) where the beaches are irresistible. One day, rather than disappear for work, he went to the beach to chill for a while. And enjoy his new motorcycle.

It so happened that a person who looked very similar to him had an identical bike. The license plate had the same number except for the last. While Francisco was at the beach, that person got into a fatal accident with a truck. His body got mangled and the license plate was partially destroyed.

As Francisco was well-known to the local police (that's what backroom politicians do), the cops instantly identified him as the victim. They notified his family and requested a body identification check, even though the body was mangled. So off everyone went to the morgue. Shock. Lots of grief and crying. Funeral arrangements were made.

But a politician who knew where Francisco actually was--these folks never rat on each other--came to town and saw all this commotion. No cell phones back then so he immediately went running to the beach. Besides, he wanted to make sure for himself.

"Francisco," he sad. "They are burying you."

"What else is new?"

Francisco thought his friend was using a metaphor for a political project. But when he finally understood, he took off to let everyone know he was still alive.

When he came into town, he decided to hang outside the house to hear what people were saying. Since it's always nice weather in Natal, people often leave the window open.

"Francisco was such a great man. I can't believe he's no longer with us. Such a big heart. Do you remember when he...?" People were truly grieving his loss.

Those words stroked his vanity. They felt awfully good. So he lurked for a while to hear some more. He also went eavesdropping outside his friends' houses. The self-absorption rush finally passed and his heart was overflowing with goodness toward mankind. He decided to appear at the funeral since the service was in a little while. That way he could let all those who loved him know of the mistake at the same time.

But he lingered until after people had spoken their last respects. He just couldn't get enough. With tears in his eyes, he made his grand entrance.

"Hello everybody. You have no idea how much you all mean to me."

There was a general gasp, then someone cried, "It's a ghost! Francisco came back from the dead! God have mercy on our souls!"

General pandemonium. Wailing. People running. He went to his wife and she screamed.

Well... there went all the good vibes from his heart. One minute cloud nine. The next utter chaos. It took him a couple of days to settle everyone down and get the police to identify the real victim. But most everyone was royally ticked off at him.

Francisco thought it would have been better to have been in the casket for real.

Michael

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