Excerpt:
10 Reasons Not to Buy the Lottery
The first reason is pretty obvious:
The stars rarely align just right—me carrying 20 euros, standing in front of a corner shop, with cigarettes waiting at home. I see the ticket and think… Gambling is a filthy habit. It tears families apart. It’s a trap that dismantles homes and empties people’s wallets.
I’d rather buy beer.
It’s a simple logistical matter. My brain doesn’t work on hope; it runs on calculations of availability and immediate benefit. For me to buy a lottery ticket, too many variables would have to align—variables I have no control over. Beer, on the other hand, is a mathematical constant.
Since I don’t consider myself a snob, I buy store-brand: 28 cents a can. I laugh at the overpriced bars downtown. Why spend money on illusion and dream of a debt-free future? They say it’s to “cover holes,” but in my case, those holes are black holes. No amount of money could ever fill them.
I pay my 28 cents for a “trip.” With the cost of a ticket, I could fund a few real trips, the kind that really get you out of where you are. Beer gives me a much more tangible freedom than the delusions of a poor gambler.
The person buying the ticket is chained to a draw. They live in a glass cell, waiting for someone outside to unlock the door. Not me. I walk into the store, pay for my “ticket,” and freedom is instant. I don’t wait for anyone to announce anything; my freedom clicks open with the snap of metal.
That’s betting on certainty. An investment with guaranteed return. As long as my stomach is empty, of course—then the effect is maximal, surgical. Honestly, even with a full stomach, it’s still a rational gamble.
While the children of San Ildefonso sing, their voices trembling with that beautiful vibration, while the desperate crowd clings to the radio outside, I’m at home. With my packs of beer, traveling for real, drinking, laughing my ass off at all of them. Because a beer in hand is better than an imaginary binge.
I know what to expect from these cans. But 20 euros on a lottery ticket… what a bloody waste.
Oh, by the way… I forgot to list all ten reasons. But you know what happened? While I was thinking about them, I’d already downed three or four beers and lost the thread…
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–Continue reading in its original Castilian language at fictograma.com–