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Why Can't I Win the Lotto?
by H.T. De Meritus
I guess I'm just too talented to win $325 million dollars. At least that's what everyone tells me. "You're wasting yourself. You should be doing so much more," one former gal pal tells me. "You've missed your calling," says another boy friend. Well, I feel like I've missed the boat. You see, having talent is god's way of screwing with your mind. I'm serious. How many times have you watched a show like "Friends", or listened to the latest J-Lo record, and said to yourself, "Gee, I could do that?" Believe me -- the fact that Mariah Carey made it, and you didn't, has nothing to do with her screechy voice that makes blackboard scratching pleasurable. Oh no. She made it because ... what? Was she persistent? Or was she damn lucky, like that 20-year-old Georgia bumpkin who just won $110 million dollars (God, how quick will she piss that away)? I don't know, but I want to tell you -- it had nothing to do with genius or talent. Look at Tony and Damian. I have great respect for their works. I have been a big fan of the DailySkew since it's inception. These two deserve better. But, you know what? They can't even find an artist to collaborate with on a consistent basis. They can't find enough fans, because people don't like to read. They can't even get published, because editors don't know them. It's bullcrap. The first time I bought a Lotto ticket, I didn't win. No beginner's luck. Nada. Maybe if I had been a dimwitted Southern Belle, or a hot-looking hispanic chick (like Shakira), I would've been an instant millionaire. The second time I played, nothing. Third, fourth, fifth ... fiftieth ... one millionth time -- nope. No luck. I guess the mighty Hand that controls destiny hasn't deemed me worthy to win millions of dollars or succeed in life. Thanks a lot, Hand. That damn whimsical Hand, that clears the path for a drunk druggie lawbreaker like George W., or a womanizing pot-smoker like Bill Clinton, to be President -- while good men like Al Gore get screwed by hanging chads. I'd like to take that Hand, and chop it off. I defy you, oh mighty Hand that guides our fates! Screw you! I will not be repressed any longer! I will succeed! I will publish my book, "One Way Out", and I will get laid once again! Damn you, Hand! Damn you to hell!
H.T. De Meritus is currently a part-time student at Windsor College in North Carolina, and a bag-boy at Giant. He can be reached at [email protected]. |
