8
The Curse of the Lottery Takes Another
How come everyone who wins the lottery just doesn't know the rules? Basically, it's just like the Final Destination franchise. You are on death's radar. When you win the lottery, you must immediately stop smoking, stop drinking, stop eating meat, you go to the doctor like once a week (or you get your OWN doctor! Live-in!) and you basically put yourself inside the bubble. No jaywalking. No skydiving. No futzing around. And you know why? Because when you win the second biggest lottery in Britain's history you will inevitably drop dead, at the age of 59, just five years later. (If no one stabs you first, of course.)
Fortuna, as Machiavelli somewhere famously observed, is a goddam bitch.
He also pointed out that she wears a Chelsea cut.
I think I dated Fortuna.
Ok, you do know that most who win such lotteries are, well, "2 fries short of a happy meal," "sharp as butter," "NASCAR fans," etc.? I sincerely doubt when they are handed a check for $150 million they say "Hey, now is a great time to be cautious and start taking care of myself. You know, make wise and meaningful decisions in my life."
Can you at least come into the comments and say "Knifecrime Island" and finish the job? I know you were done with that post but we commenters need to have our needs met, too.
For real. What is this "Britain" you speak of?
I think "Britain" is like part of Knifecrime Island or something, kind of a province or county within the "state" of K.I. if that makes any sense.
Wifey poisoned him with bacon, I reckon.
Or, given that this is Britain, withheld his life-giving six rashers of morning bacon and half dozen friend tomatoes and put him into terminal grease withdrawal.