Once every 3-4 years, usually
while standing in a local 7-11 store, I hear a voice that says, “Hey man, buy a
lottery ticket.” Like an idiot, I listen
to the voice and metaphorically flush a dollar or two down the toilet. When I do what the voice says I always pick
my own numbers (more on that later) rather than let some computer program steer
me wrong. Of course I know that my numbers
give me the same odds of winning the lottery as being struck by lightning while
fighting off a great white shark sporting an “I love Donald Trump” tattoo, but
so what?
This week, that darn voice was at
it again. I was in line to buy Gatorade
wearing my lawn-mowing clothes. These
clothes – some hole-ridden jeans from the last century and a paint-stained
“Bigfoot for President” shirt, allowed me to blend in with the Power Ball line
without tipping people off that I am a professional economist with countless
hours of probability theory work under my belt.
I did not want anyone to walk in
and say, “Hey, Professor Chambless, what are you doing in this line?” so
instead of picking my numbers I mumbled “quick pick, please” and got out of
there.
On the morning of January 14th
I was scanning this newspaper when there in front of me was a headline, “Economics
Professor loses Power Ball jackpot for stupidly refusing to pick his own
numbers.”
The winning numbers were 4 (my
favorite baseball player of all-time and the guy my first son was named after);
8 (my high-school baseball number); 27 (my high school football number); 19 (my
oldest son’s high school football number) 34 and 10 (my youngest son’s baseball
number.) What about 34? Oh, nothing big there except this.
This season I am coaching a local
high school baseball team. One of the kids
coming out for the team is a kid who reminds me of me back when I was a
kid. I have been discussing this guy all
week with my sons. That kid’s requested
number? You guessed it…..34! This means all week somewhere, somebody was
sending me cosmic hints. All I had to
do was stick with the numbers that made sense to me and then throw in the
number sent from the heavens and I would be smoking a cigar right now trying to
figure out how large of a cabin to build in Northern Minnesota. I was even planning to give most of the
money away! Millions to my church. Hundreds of thousands to friends and family
and dozens to people I do not like much.
Since I was supposed to share in
this incredible jackpot and was victimized by social pressure that economists
should not buy lottery tickets, I am demanding the following.
I want to submit my case to the
government and have it examined by the greatest lie-detecting machinery known
to mankind. When I pass this test, I
want to government to set aside a portion of the tax revenue it will collect
from the Power Ball and start a new welfare program for all truth-telling
lottery losers. I would be the first
recipient of tax dollars from this fund.
After all, just because I made a
poor choice and refused to put in the effort to work on my numbers does not
mean I am not entitled. I think in this
case I can show that I am as deserving as other folks who ostensibly make the
same claim on our tax dollars every day.
In the meantime, I think I will
take my case directly to the three people who won and see if they would be
willing to help out an economist who buys stupid lottery tickets while wearing
Bigfoot shirts.
