The lottery…


I’m tired.

Today, I hugged my kids a bit tighter, knowing that when I dropped them off at school, I was playing the lottery. They’ll probably make it home alright, unless their numbers come up and someone picks their school for the next massacre.

We all play it now. And we know it. In the backs of our minds, we might consider as we sit in a movie theater where the exits are in case we need to leave quickly.

As more and more places install metal detectors and do bag searches, we’re reminded of the lottery. Our numbers might come up.

Of course, there are other ways to die that come without warning. Car accidents, heart attacks, and strokes, but we can try and do something about those. We can lose weight, exercise, eat better, and drive slower and more carefully, but you can’t do anything about lottery. Not unless we want to wear body armor every day for the rest of our lives.

We’ll see the same results of the winners of this sick and twisted lottery. The survivors will mourn. Some will suffer PTSD for the rest of their lives. Their loved ones will cry, scream, curse God, and wonder why… WHY, in the name of all that is holy does this shit happen? Why do we do nothing while it happens?

Then the other voices will sound. The ones that live in fear, the ones that demand the rest of us live in fear. We can’t stop them all, so why bother trying? It’s not the gun’s fault. They could do the same thing with a knife!

But they can’t. You could fight a man with a knife and have a chance of surviving. A man with a gun will shoot you long before you reach him. Someone tried yesterday.

If only we were all armed!

A deranged fantasy we’ve all had about being a hero in a crisis situation, when in reality, in the chaos and confusion, concern for your family, who knows what they would really do? Who knows if they would have a chance. Maybe they’d die long before they knew they should draw their weapon. Maybe they would kill an innocent bystander by mistake. Maybe the police would mistake them for the shooter.

And because those that cater to our fears have the ears of our political system, we will do nothing. The bodies will be buried. The blood cleaned up. The media will move on. What has that wacky Donald Trump been up to this week? And things will calm down.

Until the next drawing of the lottery.

Then we’ll all hug our children a bit tighter and go about our business as we live under siege.

God bless America.

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