Hey, buddy, you definitely won!
Congratulations, you big, sexy winner. God has shown down his light upon you and against phenomenal odds (1 in 292 million or some bullshit), you have struck lottery gold in the amount 1.5 billion dollars.
Now that you’ve taken a brief pause to let this sink in, you better start planning. With great sums of money comes great responsibility, and you better not fuck this up. The world is counting on you.
1. Buy your mother a house.
This is the thing all the would-be winners, who now hate you since they did not win and you indeed did, say they would do. And if you don’t, you’ll be the person who won the largest lotto jackpot in Powerball history and was a total dick and didn’t buy his or her mother a dang house. Everyone is gonna talk so much shit on you, dude. You can’t let your sweet ol’ mommy wallow away in that ugly, piss-misted shitbox of a home (and unless your family is already extremely wealthy, she definitely lives in an ugly, piss-misted shitbox compared to what she could be living in.) Don’t have a mom? Buy one, rich guy.
Now that you’ve covered your Good Son/Daughter bases and housed your loving maternal figure, it’s time to talk to those friggin’ aliens out in space. We know they’re there, but we’re not that interesting to them. They’re interests lie elsewhere (mostly advanced thought-based space sex). So they’re not gonna call us, we gotta call them. And since you’re the one with the deep pockets all of a sudden, we’re gonna need your help. Build a big space phone or whatever because we need some answers. And the aliens, they know all the shit. Like how to be aliens and have the tightest spaceships and grow killer weed strains we couldn’t even fathom. Aliens can get laid by just thinking. And we need to learn that. Get those guys on the horn.
3. Stop Paul
Back in the day Paul McCartney totally died and we almost had a dope world where he would never start Wings or write the three worst songs in the world: “Live and Let Die,” “Maybe I’m Amazed,” and “Wonderful Christmastime.” Unfortunately, the Beatles and Ravi Shankar got some potent mystics to resurrect the bastard and now he’s still out there playing his guitars backwards and showing off that brutal face of his. I hate it. Make it so this isn’t happening, thanks.
4. Bring back Sifl and Olly
“I think they’re gearing up for the big one.”
5. Bring back my dead wife
While you’re bringing back one of the greatest comedies of all time, can you also bring back my dead wife? She’s super dead and I’m super bummed. Like, eight years ago or some shit these asshole wizards broke into our house and she got totally zapped trying to defend our dumbass son and now she’s gone and I am completely heartbroken and can’t even enjoy wizards anymore, not even Merlin and that dude is mega cool! Those robes, you know? Anyway, resurrecting people is easier than ever these days they just don’t tell the poor people about it. You don’t even have to know Ravi Shankar. So can I have my dead wife back and finally throw out this soggy pillow I’ve cross-stitched her face on to?
6. Actually, can you just like, sort my life out?
I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, man. And you’re rich as hell, so you must know what’s up. Will you help me? Please. Please help me.