Relatively Speaking

Some Ancient Italian or Other
You know that show on PBS where the host has different celebrities do a DNA testing, then sometimes tells them they are related to some famous person from the past, such as Abraham Lincoln or Richard the Lion-Hearted?

I decided to do one of those DNA tests, and I’m sorry that I did.  I’m not related to anybody famous, but apparently I am related to some infamous characters.   My family tree has more bad apples than a corner grocery store after a 7-day blackout.

Apparently, the Minicozzis and the McNeelys are responsible for most of the evil in the world.

The Minicozzis missed being related to Julius Caesar by a hair.  Good old Julius was supposed to have a wild week on Capri with our distant ancestor Caecilia Pectoris, the busiest call girl in Pompeii, but he missed it because he got himself killed before he could get out of Rome.  Caecilia filled his time slot with a local chariot race bookie to whom she owed money, and got knocked up by him instead of by the leader of the whole Roman world.  Caecilia never got over it.

Caligula comes up in the Minicozzi family tree, because we are related to his nephew, Nero.  Nero liked to lead gang raids at night.  He was a singer-songwriter who was always quick to kill any criticism, along with the critic.  He enjoyed setting fires, making Christians take the rap and using them as lion food.  He killed his mother and one of his wives.  Aside from that, he was a fun guy.  He could throw a great orgy.

Before we leave the Minicozzis, I have to mention that we are also kin to the Borgias, of quick acting poison fame. The Borgia family kitchen and wine cellar were legendary, and the secret ingredients were to die for.

If this guy asked you out, you'd best bring an antidote.
Of course, none of today’s Minicozzis would ever do any of those things.  We have become tame to the point of being boring, just like the McNeelys on my mother’s side, who were better known for herding cattle in the Old West than for doing away with people, with one exception.

Jedediah McNeely, better known as “Black Jed” was the leader of a band of outlaws that robbed trains in Nevada back in the 1870s.  They were caught after Jedediah’s wife Lizzie found him skinny dipping in Lake Placid with a local saloon girl named Good Time Gladys.  Jedediah’s wife clobbered him to death with a carpet beater, and turned the rest of the gang in to the authorities.  There was a price on old Jed’s head, and Lizzie was given the reward money just before she was hanged for murdering him.

Maybe if I have this whole DNA thing done over again, they’ll find out that I am related to Michelangelo and George Washington.  That would be worth telling people.


PS:  If anyone in my family is reading this, I made it all up because I thought it would be funny.  Please don’t hurt me.

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For more of my funny writing, go HumorOutcasts.com

Comments

Cathy Sikorski said…
I"m pretty sure I"m related to no one important. My need to sit on a milking stool and clean with a half-assed attitude pretty much convinces me that all my heritage comes from the bottom of the barrel. But I'm okay with that. My husband says he was a Prince of Gallatia, or maybe that was in his former life? No matter, pretty sure I married up!
Kathy Minicozzi said…
I actually come from a long line of Southern Italian peasants on my father's side and a long line of Northern European peasants on my mother's side, with some Jewish blood (on my mother's side) thrown in to make it interesting. I'm sure I'm not related to anybody famous. My heritage shows in my tendency to sing Neapolitan songs while waiting to be seated in an Italian restaurant where nobody else sings.

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