A Mental Rehab Post #19
There are thoughts which are connected to other thoughts like we're all six degrees from Kevin Bacon. They don't look like at first, but this matches up to that, and to that, which looks at this and bam, here were are. Strange isn't it?
I really don't want to win the lottery. I occasionally buy a lottery ticket when the prize gets high enough (now that's gall, like $15-20 million just wouldn't be enough) but in reality winning the lottery right now would more than likely be a bad thing. And not why you think.
Now I've read the articles where the people who win end up broke or destitute in few years and I look upon them with wonder. I mean complete and honest freaking wonder. I'd like to believe that if you handed me $30 million cash I'd have a hard time spending it all. Once you get past the initial purchases, exactly what do they spend the money on? House, nice car or two, pay off a bunch of bills, trip or two, and then what? Maybe it's just me.
Don't get me wrong, I know I'm speaking from a lack of experience, but then I have a fairly elaborate plan dealing with lottery winnings which involves trusts, annuities, Brazilian doctors, places where the girls don't speak English, this book I read ten years ago and eventually the phrase "diplomatic immunity." It's a little involved. You hear about these folks and it's like they really thought the money would last forever. It would if you continued to live like you did before you won, but everybody goes and buys everything they ever dreamed about. And then loan all their friends money. And invest in every fly by night idea that comes along. And then wonder why they're broke.
Let me put everybody on notice right now. My family will spread a few bucks around, but the list of hookup folks is maybe five people long and all together non-family gifts won't equal a half million bucks. Ask if you want to, but nobody else sees a dime.
But the real reason I don't want to win the lottery right now is that I already have serious doubts about if the women in life really feel about me. I mean I'm currently suspicious of why women actually like me and I'm relatively broke. I'm guessing a few million errant dollars would only cloud the issue. Hell, I'm guessing a few thousand dollars might cloud the issue. At heart, I am a hopeless romantic. I know that I'll never live in a shack on the beach with a woman who loves me, living off coconut rum and good times. But it would be nice to know that if it came to that, that she'd stay with me. Because she loves me. Really loves me.
The aforementioned Sporty Affair clouds, fogs in and hails the issue.
Everybody wants to be loved. Me included.
Barkeep....two shots of clarity, and not the well brand.