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Rant #344
Why I Am Poor
(a realization)
by Sylvia J. Adams
I recently realized why the universe does not allow me to win the lottery. Because, truly, I would turn into the most godless, soulless sociopath . . . ever.

If I won the lottery I imagine I would be drunk a good portion of the time. I love all these people who say they would continue to work. If I were to continue to work it would only be to rub it in the face of my co-workers that I am here only to kill time during the periods that I have to sober up so my liver doesn't disintegrate by the time I hit 45. I would indulge every addiction I have ever had. I would start sucking down cigarettes two at a time (I'll buy new lungs — fuck 'em if they can't take a joke). I would keep the most insane amount of cocaine in the big "Flour" jar in the kitchen. Drug dealers would literally fight over me because I would be willing to pay for pure and if anyone ever slipped me coke cut with anything to try to make a bigger profit I would have them blacklisted from all my Roman orgies.

And I would be mean. Ridiculously so. Given grotesque amounts of money I would use it exclusively for evil. I would only want people to be nice to me for what I could give them. That way I could call them at 4 am and make them come over to dance like monkeys for me because I am a little bored. I would go out constantly and be the most belligerent drunk. Not just loud but also really fucked up mean. I would offer people money to legally change their names to things that I find amusing like "Chauncey" or "Britta". I would make people dance to stuff like Cher and Madonna for my amusement and they would have to because they are on my payroll. People not on my payroll would still kiss my ass constantly because whenever I walk into a bar it would be a given that I am buying. Then I would belittle them and make them perform tricks engineered to make me laugh. If anyone ever complained it would be social suicide as I would cut them from my Roman orgy list, which of course would be the hottest ticket in three states.

When I got really good and drunk I would throw drinks on people that walked past me then give them a $50 for their trouble. I would always carry around a pocketful of change to throw at people in the grocery store. For amusement on sunny afternoons I would go to the park and throw bricks at people wrapped in $100 bills to cushion the blow. I think I will save that one for my " black out" mode. I anticipate at least two per week.

I would still maintain Jacksonville as a primary residence. I have no desire to conquer NY or LA or anywhere else for that matter. Why leave for parts unknown when I can stay here and settle all sorts for scores? I would even dig up 10 to 20 year old slights I had filed away. I may, even make up new, imagined wrongs. I would spend hours scheming how to ruin people who once cut me off in traffic or called me merely "pretty." Unfortunately most of them would be completely unrealistic, since all my scheming would be done during three day alcohol and drug binges.

I would travel almost constantly. I would hold a lottery for my friends to determine who got to go on what adventure with me (it would only be fair). When I got back I would regale people with tales of how I became the toast of Paris or the belle of the ball in Casablanca. Once I got liquored up I would give them pitying, condescending looks because they cannot afford to go on these fabulous vacations, then I would offer to send them to Disney or St. Augustine for the weekend.

I would buy cars for all my good friends, but they could only have theirs with the stipulation that if I called them they had to come and get me from wherever I was getting thrown out of. I would make a personal goal to get thrown out of every bar and library.

It's realizations like this, and the fact that I toned it down for public consumption, that make me realize why the universe keeps people like me poor.

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The Next Rant piece (from Issue #345):

Consider the Poor Locust
by R.J. Bullock

The Last few Rant pieces (from Issues #343 thru #339):

Before They Were Famous
by Noah Berlatsky

Old School Tie Strangles the Professions
by Danny Bernardi

The Defense of Poesy
by Sir Philip Sidney

by Jason Polan

Just the Facts
by R.J. Bullock

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