It all started when I won the lottery. A 350-million-dollar- jackpot. After taxes, and with a lump sum payout, I had 210 million dollars. It should have been the happiest moment of my life. Instead, I curse that day, every single miserable day of my existence.

The first thing out the gate, my loving wife of nearly 20 years, immediately files for divorce. Between the shyster lawyers, on both sides and her, they hit me for 125 million dollars, plus she kept the house in the suburbs.

Next, my greedy children sued me for their share of their inheritance in advance of my death. They claimed I would certainly spend myself into the poorhouse, leaving them destitute as a result. They needed their money now before I could squander it all and then die homeless, thus avoiding that disaster. Somehow a jury agreed, and I was forced to divide my money again between my lawyers, their lawyers, and themselves, I was now down to 20 million dollars. How this was legal has yet to be explained clearly to me, but somehow it happened.

So I figured I must be in the clear now. But wait, not so fast. My business partner decided I must have somehow used the company’s funds to purchase the winning lottery ticket. I didn’t I paid with cash. How do you prove a negative? Simple. You hire another team of shyster lawyers and a pair of forensic CPA’s.

Of course, they find my partner has been embezzling money from the company to the tune of 5 million dollars for 15 years. What happens, you ask? He goes to prison for embezzlement, financial misconduct, and misappropriation of company funds. Oh, Sure, he declares bankruptcy and is never going to see daylight outside of a fenced yard, but I am left holding the bag on a company that is sinking.

I decide to shut the doors for good. This action hurts me and put 25 people out of a job. I try to make the transition easier by giving six months’ salary and extending medical benefits as well. I am down to 13 million dollars.

I decide the best alternative is just to move away. I choose to go to Billings Montana, or just outside near a beautiful mountain. I find a nice little spread; a nice size, log cabin. It has three bedrooms, two baths, modern amenities, and an updated kitchen—all on 25 acres of land with no neighbors in sight. I offer 25 percent over asking price to purchase it furnished. I am now down to 10 million dollars.

Now you’d think everything would be fine and dandy. But you’d be wrong. Dead wrong. The state has decided my piece of paradise is where they are going to re-route a major highway. It’s going to go right through my living room and kitchen and outside through my patio and hot tub. This plan is not good for my want of privacy and peace and quiet.

The state made an offer of 1 million dollars, take it or leave it. If I refused89i78 the cash buyout, they will claim the entire property by use of the eminent domain clause. I would like to say I fought this tooth and nail and clawed a hard-earned victory for the little guy. But that’d be a lie. Alas. I took the measly one-third market value offer and slunk away. “BOHICA.” I took the former owner and the real estate broker to court. I lost. The state hadn’t made any final determinations of which of multiple routes they might decide on before my purchase. Since there was no final determination, and there was a public notice of proposed routes, and my property was listed as doubtful or unlikely, no disclosures were required. Another million gone and with it, my dreams and hopes of a peaceful life in the country.

Around about this time, my ex-wife was trying to make contact. I finally gave in and called her. I asked what she wanted. Of course, she tried to get back together and for me to forgive her. She loved me and wanted to try again. I asked her how much money she had left. I had to laugh; she was flat broke facing foreclosure and bankruptcy. I told her to jump in a lake.

I now live in a one-stoplight town in the middle of nowhere. I have a very modest house and economical car. I live modestly on the interest from my investments, and I sit on the front porch drinking ice tea and watch the sun go down. No one knows my name or my past, and I like it that way.