One Armed Bandit and the Poetry Contest
Upon smoking cesation, I quickly became irritated
while standing in line at a quick check waiting for
the employee to seek out some off name-brand cigrette
pack for the patron I was standing behind. I only had
to pay for my gas fill-up; exact change if you please.
This irritation escalated even more rapidly when
standing behind some Power Ball gambler--and then
thoes scratch tickets--two of those, one of those,
four of those--grrrrrr....
I have no patience for people who gamble. Even when
they win they loose, because they will take their
meager winnings and throw it away on another scratch
ticket, or Power Ball, only to loose, yet again.
Better odds at Vagas, Reno, or Atlantic City, betting
on the slots.
Recently, the leader for my writing workshop
suggested that I enter my poetry in a contest.
Ironicly, on a blog through a more recent addition on
my contact list at Yahoo 360, just such a poetry
contest was promoted from a hot link. In each case,
the contest reading fee was over ten dollars, under
tewnty dollars, for no more than three poems, not more
than five pages in length. The prize money for each
contest was one thousand dollars. And of course, there
is the prestige of being published in the next poetry
publication, and the winners' list online.
My dilema, then, is do I send in my one poem, that
I think worthy of a blue ribbon, and slap down my
fifteen dollar bet that it is? OR, do I go to the
local quick check looking to hit the big jackpot, and
buy fifteen dollars of scratch tickets?
Either way, in my estimation, both are a form of
gambling with my hard earned dollar. Yes, the poetry
contest uses the money to finance the winner payout,
as well as other logistical expenses. Where as,
scratch tickets and Power Ball are a little less high
brow.
Still, I feel I would do better, and be more
entertained, spending my hard earned fifteen dollars
in quarters if I stood at a One Armed Bandit in a
gambling hall inside one of the more local Indian
Reservation with a bunch of cowboys,than I would in
some poetry contest where even the judges are
strangers. Besides, I might just hit three sevens! Or,
keep my money, and stand in a line with my rhyme, and
pay the high price of gas til I pass.
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posted by BrushMark @ 9:50 AM
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