How to Win the Lottery, Cuz I Know

Always purchase with small change, never bills, and never ever big bills. Don’t even have a 50 in your wallet, they’re bad luck.

Spread out your purchases over several days just in case astrology and biorhythms are real.

Study all the pseudo-mathematical literature and throw it the hell out–this is about winning over Lady Luck, not winning a science fair.

It’s an indisputable fact that Lady Luck loves a drunk. Consider:  there were 46,000 alcohol related traffic fatalities last year. There should have been 86,000.

86,001 if you count me.

Does that mean you should get drunk before playing and risk being one of the 46,000? Ask yourself two questions: how badly do you want to win, and how badly do you want to drink?

If you insist on scratch offs don’t scratch off right away. For as long as you delay scratching off, you remain a potential winner. And don’t scratch off in the parking lot, you look pathetic.

Never pray for winning numbers. God hates that almost as much as Lady Luck does.

Then again, if you see six numbers in a burning bush you might wanna drop a few bucks on that. But I’d still throw in a quick pick on top.

And check to see if you have epileptically induced religious mania.

Never let it ride. Not right away. Wait a while–let it coast instead.

Never pick 5 consecutive numbers. The chances of that happening are like 1 in 200 million. Only a fool would chance those odds even with Lady Luck as your girlfriend.

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Utopia IF:

If we all dumped our high-maintenance friends all at the same time

If we all took each other’s advice and finally cut the shit

If everyone got fired and rehired with a better attitude and a little more money

If we all slept in mausoleums

If everyone thought Big Brother was watching

Excess farm production was crammed down our throats

If all the religions peacefully merged into a Thursday night story-telling contest… hosted by Garrison Keillor

If everyone blacked out when you blacked out and remembered less

If business leaders had to eat their losses and regurgitate to their young, like vultures

If everyone saw a therapist, a really good therapist, not like those other ones

If we all had to wear mug-shot necklaces introducing our crimes

If we all believed in Rick Warren and worshipped at the tomb of Jerry Fallwell

If we abandoned all our current, false relationships and followed God’s match for us at ChristianMingle.com

(While having hot steamy affairs with the freaks at Match!)

If everyone practiced the hypocrisy they preached

If everyone declared a War on Evil and took out one evil person for every ten innocent bystanders they killed

You Are NOT Unique and THIS Is How You Should Smuggle Drugs: Unintended Lessons from National Geographic’s Locked Up Abroad

Watching Locked Up Abroad you realize that everyone has the same story:

“I was smuggling contraband because I was young and felt invincible–I got caught—how am I going to tell my Dad?—(sniff)—Prison was hell—you’ve got to be strong—My parents forgave me and pulled some strings—etc.”

This makes me question the assumption our culture shares about how “unique” each person really is. I mean, these people are living on the knife-edge of danger, experiencing the exhilarating rush of adventure and adversity that makes each moment seem so intense and life so special—and it’s all the same! Even the superlatives I just used to describe it are clichés distilled from a mash of everyone “who’s ever really lived.”

And if those people aren’t unique, how unique are we, sitting on our safe fat asses at home?

Obviously, this is not the lesson intended by the producers of the show.

Another lesson I’m sure they did not intend to convey was how to smuggle drugs properly:

You need fifteen “mules.” Fourteen of the mules are decoys, strapped to the gills beneath their clothing with packages of baby powder or some other legal substance—no cocaine or heroin at all—trying their damnedest to fit the profile of a drug smuggler.

[Singing out loud with his headphones, to the tune of “Hey Hey We’re the Monkees”]:

Hey hey I’m a smuggler!
People say I’m smuggling around
But I’m too busy smuggling
To put any Federales down…

At the airport, the fourteen fake mules are located in the front and back of the lines, easily picked off by law enforcement. None of the fake mules actually knows who the real mule is or even what contraband is being smuggled–all they’ve been told is “Go down to South American and strap some legal products to your body and we will pay you $10,000.”

Plausible denial, baby!

Overwhelmed by so many fake mules with so much apparent cocaine, all of which has to be tested (“Hey, you forgot to check this package!”), the real mule slips by on his or her way.

Advice for Animists and the Superstitious

Never taunt an egg, just because it didn’t make it.

Don’t trust lizards–they’re much too talkative (Carlos Castaneda).

If you see a squirrel spitting out a nut, you better look behind you really quick.

Never use the same noose twice.

Whenever a bird shits on you, immediately buy a lottery ticket–don’t even pause to clean the mess off your shoulder and hair or you’ll ruin the magic.

Just as learning braille will cause you to go blind, and learning sign language will make you go deaf, and using a wheelchair when you don’t have to will cripple you, so too oral sex causes impotence.

A peach that talks back is usually not a blessing.

Pomegranates are the most reliable of the talking fruits.

Apples are the least, but they’re still much more reliable than lizards.

If a cloud starts to take the shape of an animal, you need to stop whatever you’re doing and stare at it. You’ve got to.

Don’t let the blue-jays steal your soul–why do you think bird shit is such good luck?

If you fall in love with Nature don’t let the god of Mammon and money find out about it–keep it on the down low.

If you really loved Nature you wouldn’t talk about her age all the time.

Don’t disrespect the other planets and never fart in the ocean when the tide is going out.

Sex during lightening on an exposed hilltop can put a new charge in your love life.

Masturbation during lightening on an exposed hilltop, however, is just asking for an ignominious death. Thor’s hammer is for lovers not loners.

If you scoff at a superstition hard enough, it will come true for you, even if it was never really true before. That’s how these things get started–not by believers but by the hyper-skeptics who get zonked.

Never taunt an egg but don’t over-empathize with them either just because you were one once–you need a good breakfast.