I'm Art Kumbalek and man ohmanischewitz what a world, ain'a? So listen, during troubled economic timessuch as right here, right now, I know there's a boatload of American citizenswho desperately need whatever assistance our beleaguered states and federalUS-focking-A government can pony up.
(Tea partiers, be damned. How'bout you go spend a couple, three years down in, say, Haiti, and thenget back to me on how much you enjoy a no-government country. Deal?)
So for those who sometimes may need to count on a helpinghand from the government, let me guess: The numbers came up and you went down,didn't you? You got suckered into purchasing another bum lottery ticket. Getover it.
Yeah, yeah, hard to believe any outfit that sells as manyfaulty products as our government lottery cartel does can stay in business butwhat are you going to do, ain'a? Take your ticket stub back to the clip jointyou bought it from and ask for your money back? Ha! Forget about it. I alreadytried. No dice. They acted like I was speaking some kind of foreign language.And come to think of it, at the mini-mart I frequent, I was. English.
Ba-ding! Butseriously, I'm here with this week's essay to tell you's people that justbecause your lottery-financed dreams have been dashed down the dumper likeyesterday's undigested baloney sandwich doesn't mean that you'll feel anybetter by packing it in and stepping in front of the first bus that comes by, Ikid you not.
Take some solace in the fact that at least you know you're aloser. Know thyself, like they say inthe Bible. Not like these supercilious dickweeds who pride themselves in notgetting snookered into these lottery scams. I got one thing to say to them: Ifyou don't play, you can't win, and when you don't winwell, you lose, any wayyou look at it, loser.
But really, so big focking deal you lost in the lotteryagain, that now you can't run away with the uber-stacked manicurist you've hadyour eye on over by the beauty parlor where the wife goes; that you can't tellyour know-it-all boss that you won't be in for the next thirty-focking years;that, damn it, you still have no pot to pee in; that you can't take thosedécoupage classes you hankered on or that long weekend in the Dells; yeah,those new soles for your pair of dress shoes will have to wait, and so will theknob from the collection agency knocking on your door even as I write and youread.
But do you really think you'd be happier if any of thosedreams had come true?
Yeah, probably, but just because the lottery numbers you socarefully picked mega-sucked does not mean that your life is as good as over.Hell no, not by a long shot. What it does mean is that your life will continueto stink, and the familiar does have its own comforts I've heard. Don't worry,you still got plenty more losing ahead of you, so buck up, buddy.
And what's so great about that? Hey, read your Biblesometime, mister. Somewheres in there it says, “The meek shall inherit theEarth,” or so I'm told. Got that? It doesn't say, “The focking rich bastardsshall inherit the Earth,” does it? Of course not. That would be stupid 'causeyou can't inherit what you've already got, what the fock.
No sir, the Bible specifies the meekanother way of saying losers.That's right. Losers. Just like you. And just so's you know how special thatis, second place inherits two Earths.
Ba-ding! Butseriously, the losers are going to win the Earth, which may be a lot likewinning a goddamn hippopotamus in that the first thing you got to ask yourselfis, “What the fock am I going to do with that?”
And when you losers win the Earth,I imagine you'll need to decide as to how you'll want it: paid out as one lumpplanet or as an annuity spread out over a period of years. Me, I'd go theannuity route. For my first payment, I'd take Tahiti and Fiji out there in the South Seas, introduce myself to the native gals and spend my time makingsure they were comfortable.
Next year, do I hear Monte Carlo? I might bemeek, but not too meek that I couldn't enjoy myself but good gambling nude onthe beach right alongside the jet-setting chic. For my third year, I'll takeHef's mansion out in Southern California andcontrolling interest in a Major League Baseball team, what the fock.
So in conclusion, please rememberthat when you're a loser, you've got nothing but dreams. But when you're awinner, your days of dreaming are done and if you don't have dreams, what doyou have? Fock if I know, but as soon as I inherit the Earth maybe I'll have ananswer for you's, 'cause I'm Art Kumbalek and I told you so.
