Let me win the lottery … please

Stop the Presses column by Chris Graham

News flash … I didn’t win the lottery.

Again.

Oh well.

Just doesn’t seem to be in the cards for me – this whole winning-the-lottery-and-being-richer-than-God thing that I’ve been trying my hand at the past couple of years.

Which really, really stinks, for those keeping score at home.

I mean, think of all the positive that I could do with that amount of cash.

I’d … bankroll every nonprofit from here to Kalamazoo.

Not to mention buy turkeys for people to make sure that everybody had Thanksgiving dinner.

And Christmas dinner. And New Year’s dinner.

And President’s Day dinner.

See, I’m deserving.

OK, so honestly, most of the good that would be done would be done with Numero Uno in mind.

To put it another way, I’d have a different color Lamborghini for every day of the week.

(And two for each of the weekend days. And for me, the concept of weekend would be something that begins on Thursday and ends on Monday. You know. Because I wouldn’t be going back to work. Never ever again.)

And I’d buy a big mansion overlooking the Valley – and like the Grinch, I’d watch over everything, and harrumph a lot.

(Ultrarich people, it seems to me, harrumph a lot. In addition to curling their noses as if they have just smelled really sour milk. Put me down for my fair share of that, too.)

I’d devote the remainder of my time to eating Haagen-Dazs and wearing ascots (with my initials embroidered on them) and writing really bad poetry and working out the details on my own VH1 reality show and …

I can dream, can’t I?

Maybe it’s a good thing that I didn’t win after all, looking back at it.

Seriously, look at me now.

I work hard for every cent that I have. I don’t have much to complain – er, harrumph – about.

(Or much time to do it.)

I can’t afford Haagen-Dazs. I’ve never even seen a person with my own two eyes wearing an actual ascot.

I generally lead a life so dull and uneventful that even the reality-TV channel that you can get on the upper tier of the digital cable wouldn’t want to do a show on me.

(The sound that you hear right now is my hands clasping in prayer. Please, please, Lord. Next time, let me win. I promise, I’ll never ask for anything else again.)