MOST people have no time for outlandish celebrity "death hoaxes" but they've probably never seen a dead man on stage.
On May 16, 2004, hopeful fans of comic genius Andy Kaufman threw a "welcome back" party on the 20th anniversary of his death.
Andy failed to turn up but there was a lounge singing performance from Tony Clifton, the alter-ego he passed on to his best friend.
In April festival-goers at Coachella in the US were understandably blown away by the appearance of deceased rap legend Tupac Shakur via a state-of-the-art "hologram" projection.
Although Tupac was shot dead 16 years ago, ideas of conspiracy around his unsolved murder have lived on.
To those claiming he faked his death to fool his enemies, the spooky hologram resurrection only gave fuel to the theory's fire (possibly sparked by his seven posthumous albums).
Literary figures have been playing dead since Shakespeare's Juliet and Mark Twain's Tom Sawyer, but in the past 100 years the shocking deaths of James Dean, Marilyn Monroe, Elvis Presley and recently Michael Jackson have brought pseudocide lore into reality.
The more outrageous the theory, the more it seems to intrigue the public.
Just consider the idea that a larger than life, mega-famous personality could suddenly go covert and spent the rest of their natural lives underground as an unglorified nobody. The very concept is both ridiculous and fascinating.
Most people would rightfully argue each story (or hoax) started with grieving fans who refused to admit their idol was truly gone.
But if anyone was capable of faking their own death, it was Andy Kaufman.
Andy's unexpected death came five months after the self-proclaimed "song-and-dance man" was diagnosed with a rare lung cancer in 1985. He was just 35 but Andy's passing wasn't unexpected because it was sudden.
The vegetarian non-smoker's apparent death made headlines because despite him undergoing chemotherapy and psychic treatment, very few believed he was actually sick.
Not long before his diagnosis Andy shared with close friends plans for the biggest joke ever to fake his death and shock the world years later with a comeback.
He was advised against the idea, but some mourners at his funeral have admitted they nudged the prankster in his open casket, refusing to believe he wasn't pulling their leg. Ridiculous? Not when you consider how he made a living.
Andy's career was spent keeping his audience guessing whether his outlandish antics were part of the act. He was the father of awkward comedy and Andy's characters were a full-time gig even more than Sacha Baron Cohen in recent years with Ali G, Borat and The Dictator.
No matter his antics, Andy was never one to say "By the way, I'm joking." He left us all wondering.
In one of his well-known acts, Andy appeared on stage as a shy foreign man, performing horrible impressions to lull the audience into a false perception of his talent.
With the audience groaning awkwardly he would then bust out an amazing Elvis Presley impersonation, said to have been the King's favourite before his own somewhat-contested death.
As one of the biggest names in US comedy, Andy chose to work as a restaurant waiter in his spare time, performing bad impressions of himself to assure curious customers he wasn't really "Andy Kaufman from the TV".
Just months ago Andy's writing partner and closest friend Bob Zmuda recently said, "If he walked through that door right now I would be surprised, but I wouldn't be shocked.
"He'd go through chemotherapy. He'd do anything to pull off that he'd faked his death.
"What greater legacy for Andy Kaufman, to still think he might still be alive."
The 1999 biopic Man on the Moon starring Jim Carrey as Andy added further speculation to the death hoax... but it's been 28 years. Could it be possible?
Probably not. Still, as absurd it is to believe a comedy legend could live so long without being found, I want to suspend my disbelief this one time.
I want to believe he'll come back at the perfect moment to shock the world.
If not, I'd happily settle for a hologram Elvis impersonation at Coachella.