The Next Earl of Essex

It sounds like a storybook ending to a long life. There is a retired grocery store clerk in California (where else?) that is in line to become the next Earl of Essex:

"A relative who died last month was the 10th Earl of Essex, and the 11th, another cousin, is 61 years old and doesn't have children to inherit the title. Capell, a 52-year-old, born-and-bred Californian, was largely unimpressed by the news that he might become a nobleman. 'I'm a pretty laid-back guy,' he said. 'I've known since way back in 1966, as a teenager, when my dad got a call. It's always been on the back burner, sure, but I never really thought about it.'"

The most that most people I know have to look forward to in retirement are reverse mortgages, vitamin supplements and Viagra. This guy could wind up in an English mansion running an entire estate and having women in those cute little "french maid" costumes all over the place. Never mind having Alfred bringing him his vitamin supplements and Viagra on a little silver serving plate, he will have the Queen of England calling him on the phone as "Our right trusty and entirely beloved cousin."

Sweet.

Typical of an American, he has a pretty good attitude about it all. The chief concern he has is that he will have to give up his citizenship in the US for one in the UK. Clearly he does not understand this whole Earldom thing. Living in the UK as a regular Joe is not as nice as it is here, if you favor things like personal freedom and so forth. However, if you are on TOP of the pile you get to have things your way. I am thinking that being too laid back in this situation is like sending your lottery ticket back because you think it may disrupt your lifestyle. What is that? He is worried that he may no longer be able to attend the summer cookouts at Kroger's? He WANTS to fight with Medicare about the costs of medicine?

Forget that. I am looking like crazy for long lost relatives that have died and left millions or want to give me an estate because my balls work and I have the right family name.

I am from a noble family as it turns out. Feverishly going through my family history, I found that they were all Scots who magically lost everything in the last rebellion against the crown of England. Yea. Alright. Groovy. Then I learned that after being landowners in Virginia they lost all of that and came to Texas to be dirt farmers and rebels. Far out. Then I learned that I am 422nd in line to be the next Lord of Chuaghmhire. So I raced over to Nobility-R-Us.com and put in my application. Besides having to figure out how to knock off 421 other contenders, I read that Chuaghmhire is 100 miles long and 35 feet wide, being situated on the shore. At high tide it is 12 feet wide, but I never let details bother me. Hey at least it is land, right? Also, as Lord of Chuaghmhire the Queen would have to address me as "Our Most Strange and Distant Cousin That We Will Never Call or Invite to a Party."

Exploding with glee I turned my attention to figuring out how to get rid of the other 421. 421st in line is my Dad. Crap. It looks like I will have to wait now, and my current calculations tell me that if I live for 300 years I stand a chance. At the current date I am now buying lottery tickets. Best of luck to Lord Capell.