The lottery: A tax on the stupid or a smart way to fund worthwhile programs?
The lottery," boomed my freshman year Economics 101 professor, "is a tax on the stupid." This speech only added to the years of anti-lottery propaganda from my father, who lumped the lottery into the same category as smoking, stealing, adultery, lying, or voting Republican.
Thus, every time I entertain the idea of buying a lottery ticket, I feel like I’m choosing between the bright path of enlightened wisdom and the dark alley of blind ignorance.
Last week, however, I had the sudden urge to play the New Jersey Lottery. Perhaps it was the rattling of my car’s axle; perhaps it was my looming mortgage payment; or perhaps it was the simple and universal desire to defy the authority of teachers and fathers.
Armed with $10 and my lottery virginity, I entered Metuchen’s Quick In Food Store to buy my tickets. Not wanting to be seen, I pulled my hat low over my head.
"Ten lottery tickets," I mumbled.
The cashier pointed to his lottery ticket case, which held more than 50 instant lottery games. Each game had a number. As I stood there, frozen, a more lottery-savvy customer entered the store.
He said, "I’ll take two sevens, a 34, a 16, three 11s, and a Jersey Five." Within 30 seconds, he paid and was out the door. Inspired by his panache and brash confidence, I rallied. "I’ll take nine bucks worth — you choose ’em — and a Jersey Five."
"Yes, sir." He gave me the cards and I handed him my money. He looked at me.
"Sir?" he said. "You need to fill in the Jersey Five."
"Oh," I said stupidly. "How do I do that?" He showed me. This took 30 more agonizing seconds. Two more customers entered the store. I felt their judging eyes. "And sir," he said, "check the newspaper tomorrow to see if you’re a winner."
"OK," I said, stuffing the tickets into my jacket, escaping the store, and scurrying toward my car. Like a man carrying 10 smutty magazines, I avoided eye contact with others.
Back in the privacy of my own kitchen, I began to scratch. After two quick losses in Bushel of Clams and Yankee Doodle Dollars, I rebounded with a $4 winner in Tail Gator. I came agonizingly close to winning $10,000 in Triple Tripler, Red Hot Doubler, and Beetle Bailey. By now I had that "next-one-could-be-a-winner" feeling. Yet I had bum luck with Instant Pick 4, Bonus Baseball, and Count De Money. With nothing more to scratch, it dawned on me that I was, indeed, a loser.
Looking for comfort, I flipped over one of my lottery cards, expecting to see a cigarette pack-type warning, something akin to "Your chances of winning a true jackpot are far lower than your chances of being struck by lightning." Instead, there were small print disclaimers, teasing instructions for winners of more than $500, and the goofy slogan: For Every Dream There’s a Jackpot. There was also a website.
When I went to the New Jersey Lottery Web site at http://www.njlottery.net, I realized that most of this "tax on the stupid" is actually spent making people smarter. In fact, in 2002, three-quarters of the lottery revenue, nearly half-a-billion dollars (yeah, with a "b"), went to education. The rest of the funds went to worthy, underfunded causes like the developmentally disabled, psychiatric hospitals, and veterans.
Reading this, my shame vanished, though my sense of irony was still intact. The next morning, I eagerly secured a newspaper hoping that my Jersey Five would pay out. Did it? Let’s just say that there is some lucky Rutgers student out there who is luckier — and perhaps a little smarter— than I am.