When Michael Jackson died, there was a lottery you could enter to attend his funeral at the Staples Center. My older brother was the biggest Michael Jackson fan. His wife entered and won two tickets.
But my brother is the kind of guy who never misses work for anything. I called to congratulate him and he said, "thanks, but I can't go. I can’t miss work right now.” I said, “the odds of you even winning were impossible. You have to go.” He said, “I wish I could, but I’m just way too busy.” I said, “Dude, you're not busier than Morgan Freeman, Stevie Wonder, and Kobe Bryant. Even Mariah Carey’s crazy ass is gonna be there.”
Now I get insulted at family parties when he starts dancing to Billy Jean, “you didn’t even go to his funeral. What kind of fan are you. Michael Jackson’s ghost should be moonwalking away from you right now.”