Take a Number

I've never bought a lottery ticket before. Until tonight. I bought three.

The urge was brought on by the confluence of two events: tomorrow's drawing is the biggest Mega Millions jackpot in history and I just put an offer in on a house yesterday. The estimated lottery jackpot is $355 million. After taxes, that's approximately one shitload of money. Roughly speaking, it should be just about enough money to cover the outrageous taxes and closing costs on our potential new home.

I'm aware that I'm about as likely to hold the winning ticket as I am to be the father to Anna Nicole's child. (Acutally, statistically speaking, the latter odds may be better.) I've always said that the lottery is a tax on people who are bad at math. So I don't feel bad buying a few lottery tickets since I know the proceeds benefit convalescents and orphans -- oh, and the one lucky bastard who wins.

I spent three dollars and got three different combinations to play. I let the machine pick the numbers for me. I did this at my brother's advice. I remember him wondering why people use their birthdays and anniversaries to pick their lottery numbers. What are the odds that you'd win the lottery and the number you picked also happened to be the same as the anniversary of your mother-in-law's gallstone surgery?

Of course, what you're really playing for is the momentary rush. For a buck, you can experience the waking dream of just exactly what you'd do with so much crazy money. Since I bought my tickets a couple hours ago, I've spent a little time devising a plan. Here's what I've come up with:

Upon discovering that I posses the winning numbers, I will take the winning ticket, fold it up tightly and place it in a secure location on or in my person. Then, you will not see me or hear from me for days, maybe weeks. I will take my wife and child out of state and check into a hotel under an assumed name. This will become my homebase for contacting immediate family only as well as some financial advisors. I might take a moment to call my employer to offer a few supportive words about my experience working for them. And how much I will truly miss them all since I won't be coming back -- ever.

At some point, one must claim the prize, which I will do in privacy and without the glitzy press conference. I've always wanted to get one of those big cardboard checks, but I do all my banking by mail and I could see that being a bit cumbersome. I will then work with my advisors to calculate just how much money one really needs for their family to live a reasonable lifestyle. Realistically, a few million dollars should do the trick unless you're a total idiot. Familiy and friends will then see a nice windfall, too. (This will be doled out based on how many years you've known me and how often you've left comments on this blog.) The rest of the money will be donated anonymously to deserving charities. Why should I ask buildings and monuments be named for me when I didn't earn a single dime of this money?

I imagine there would be a great deal of guilt in retaining so much false wealth. Which is why most of it would just have to go. Well, maybe not too much. Alright, none of it.

The drawing is Tuesday night. So if this blog isn't updated for a while, you can make your own assumptions.