I have come to realize lately that the great comedic punchline of life is the idea that some few successful people have always been, and always will be successful. The rest of us, the unblessed masses, we are condemned to the oddly ironic incarceration of watching them stomp and waste the puddles of fortune, splashing and squandering the bounty of life, over and over, without thought or reason. They suck from the trough of life while we the masses stand helplessly, hopelessly by, waiting for the million to one chance that some bejeweled spittle will fall from their fattened lips into our stretched open mouths.
That is it, the joke of life. Most of us have to sit and listen to the retelling of that same joke, being told over and over.
We get to hear the joke told over and over and, here is where it gets really funny, we hear the joke so often that we start to like it. We like knowing that somebody is richly rewarded for nothing more than being the random genetic product of two people caught up in the rush of animal reproductive instinct, because if somebody can hit the jackpot, without effort or some intentional use of their pea-sized-brain, then it can happen to us too. It’s the Galactic Wheel of Fortune come to the rescue, and we all, secretly, are hoping that the wheel lands on seven for us too.
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