Facebook has been pretty crowded today with people posting pictures of their Powerball tickets and promising to share their winnings with those who “like” the post.
It’s a very generous offer.
So is the roughly $550 million up for grabs in tonight’s drawing.
If you’re one of the optimistically lucky who went out and spent a couple of bucks on some tickets, take note. Your odds of winning the jackpot are 175 million to one. Compare that to the 18,000 to one shot you have at being murdered and draw your own conclusions.
Let’s be honest with ourselves here, $550 million is just enough for you to call up your boss and tell him to suck eggs. You’ll be basking in the lap of luxury while not having to worry about submitting your weekly labor usage report to the number crunchers who keep coming up with creative ways to make those numbers look good in an Excel spreadsheet in order to keep their paycheck coming.
No longer will you be punching the clock, counting your smoke breaks, eating cold soup at lunchtime because someone broke the lunchroom microwave (again) and best of all, you won’t have to get the last parking spot that’s in the far end of the lot because you arrived late for work (again).
But wait, don’t get too caught up in the moment. The odds are still 175 million to one.
I started thinking about what I would do if I happened to be the lucky stiff who walked away the sole winner. First, I’d take it in cash. So what if I have to give up a big chunk of my winnings to bask in a cash payout. Second, I wouldn’t answer the phone. Too many people I never liked in the first place would be calling to congratulate me and ask for a loan to finance their 12 year old daughter’s dental work.
It’s not my fault she ate too much candy.
Seriously though. What would I do with a large jackpot? There are starving kids somewhere on planet Earth. My mother always reminded me about that when I didn’t finish my plate of meatloaf. Perhaps I could donate some to Sally Struther’s charity that helps the hungry little ones in some country I never heard of. Forget that! Now that I’m filthy rich, I shouldn’t have to help others, right?
I’d buy a new car. A real gas guzzler. While my old Hummer used to get 9 mpg, I’d want something that got considerably less. It’s a great way to burn through the money quickly while pissing off every environmentalist at the same time. I’d also buy my gas at CITGO. I like Caesar Chavez.
I’d buy a boat. After all, there is no better way to waste money than by buying a boat. Plus I get to tell people, “Yeah, I have one of those. It’s a fifty-foot, steel hulled job with quad diesel engines.” I’d make sure to register it in the Cayman Islands just like Mitt Romney did.
I’d default on my mortgages, credit cards and loans. With all that cash, who needs good credit? Besides, all the interest I’ve paid over the years certainly can make up for the loss the banks would have to take on me. The 1% do this already and I just joined their little elite club.
Speaking of the 1%, I’d take my tidy sum of winnings and put it into an offshore bank account because us rich folks have to “do the right thing.”
All kidding aside, I’d probably take my winnings and retreat to some private island in the Caribbean, that I bought for a mere pittance, to live out the rest of my days in complete and total misery. Alone. Isolated. Living a reclusive lifestyle only the rich and famous and people from Detroit can afford.
But alas, all my wishing and hoping is in vain.
Unlike you, I’m not heading down to the local 7-Eleven to stand in line among the huddled masses waiting to purchase a ticket to possible fame and fortune. Winning that much money would only make me more miserable than I am. Besides, I don’t think my doctor can legally prescribe any higher doses of the medication I’m already on which is supposed to make me, in his words, “pleasant to be around.”
Instead, I’ll take the ten bucks and put it towards a handgun.
Those odds of being murdered have me a little freaked out right now.