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Will lottery lightning strike twice on Broadway?

I won’t be surprised, if for a couple of weeks at least, there’s alineup for the lottery ticket desk at the Mac’s store at the corner ofBroadway and Hemlock.

I won’t be surprised, if for a couple of weeks at least, there’s a lineup for the lottery ticket desk at the Mac’s store at the corner of Broadway and Hemlock.

Lightning in the form of a $50-million win struck that corner over the weekend. I don’t know about you, but when it strikes that close, my lifestyle fantasies flash before me.

My wife and I have what is known around our place as the Stupid Lottery Argument.

Whenever she buys a ticket (I never buy a ticket as I’m above all that), she starts to fantasize about giving it all away. The object seems to be to give as much away as possible while keeping just enough to pay off the mortgage and have enough left over for a comfortable dotage.

The targets of her largesse usually include, in no particular order:

The children, her relatives, the starving children in Africa, Girls Who Need Help, close friends, workmates and passing acquaintances.

I can only say if she wins the lottery, there will be a lot of surprised and happy new millionaires at the same time.

Needless to say, this strikes me as absolutely nuts, as I patiently point out her plan does not leave enough for the new luxury autos, the vacation properties in both British Columbia and Someplace Warm, the pied-à-terres in London and Paris, the yacht, the private jet, etc. And that’s just the essentials.

Even though it quickly becomes clear how easy it is to burn through $50 million, she’s not convinced. No one needs $50 million she counters, even though I’ve just demonstrated, using remorseless logic, how $50 million is barely enough to make ends meet.

She refuses to budge and keeps thinking up new ways to bestow millions on others who aren’t nearly as deserving as I am. I mean, no one is as deserving as I am.

And then it occurs to me that I’ve been suckered in again and the whole thing is pathetic.

Pathetic because I can’t even fantasize without turning it into a debate.

Pathetic because the chances of winning the Lotto Max jackpot of $50 million are nearly one in 29 million.

(Not to mention pathetic because I’m a greedy little pig who deserves to go to bed without his supper.)

But hope, no matter how pathetic, springs eternal. Easy Street is just down the street at the corner of Broadway and Hemlock, and the odds of lightning strike twice are only one in nine million.

I’ll take that bet.

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