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Time to cash in

My other very close friends don't have a will, which makes me think lots of people don't. I have a will, but it dates back to 1992, when I was a puppy, with a brand new home to pay for from money I earned while living in New York City, acting, and working as an assistant to William J. Doyle of Doyle Galleries.

When I bought that first house I told myself it would be paid for by the time I was forty. Greenbacks steadily accumulated during my New York City years and I was fortunate to have it paid off well before my goal. So if I'd died back just after my last home payment, when I was thirty-eight, my ma and pa and sis would have been in for a few buckaroos, which, though I never thought of it then, would have been pretty cool.

Recently, a few days after a very close friend passed away, a brand shiny new thought came to mind, "If I die, some folks will be rollin' in dough." (Hate it that we think of ourselves so much when people die) My point in sharing this is not to make you think I'm rich, because I'm not, though you could say, to someone, we're all rich. The homeless guy on the street with only a blanket looks at the homeless guy with a hut made of cardboard and thinks, "Man, that dude is rich." But to the people who would divvy my estate, the amount they'd get would make a pretty good difference to them financially.

Being a card-carrying narcissist makes me rejoice when thinking of the adrenaline rush my heirs would get upon opening the envelope containing the check. Fantasizing seeing their face as they mouth the words, "Never seen a check that big," takes more than a small bit of the edge off my thinking being dead will totally suck.

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