FYI: I Lost, So You Lost

I didn’t win the big money in the $590 million-or-more Powerball lottery drawing last night.

Hell, I didn’t win the semi-big money, the middling money or the smallest this-covers-me-for-one-of-my-tickets money. I got zip, nada, zero, nothing, squat.

Oh, and since I was a loser, just thought you’d all like to know you’re losers too.

Because I planned on giving a million to every single one of my readers and followers here, whether you’ve liked me or not. I could afford it and could have used the charity tax breaks too.

Just so you know.

And even after that, I would have had more than enough moolah left over to do a couple other nice-for-me/nice-for-you things.

I was going to pay off all of my family’s and all of your families’ share of the national debt. Shucks, it’s only a little more than $100,000 each. Chump change. That’d be one monthly bill we all could rip up and throw away.
I’d buy a long-range ballistic missile, stuff Dennis Rodman into the warhead and fire it off at Kim Jong-Un and his cadre of yes-oh-great-leader generals. One kaboom and world peace would ensue.
And finally, I’d buy a bag of ice for every single person on the planet and at the same time we’d all go outside and all-together-now wave them in the air for twenty minutes and … badda-bing, badda-boom … no more global warming.

Yeah, sure, what I nice guy I could have been. But I didn’t win. So now me, you, the country and the world have zip, nada, zero, nothing, squat.

And one last thing. To the winner of last night’s Powerball, who bought the ticket at that Publix supermarket in Florida, probably a 97-year-old retiree who’s really going to send for those mail-order kitchen curtains now and (why not?) the valances too, and who most likely will bequeath the rest to Clarence, your 12-year-old Maine coon-Persian-calico cat mix because he’s such a finicky eater, don’t you know … I hiss this:

I just hope you’re happy now.