Just because this ex-marine is going to die, is that any reason for me to be beating up on Donald Trump, who has nothing to do with the story?

Ooh, so close, Wayne! Better luck in your next life.

There's this 51-year-old ex-marine in Naples, N.Y., named Wayne A. Schenk who's going to die from inoperable lung cancer because he doesn't have medical insurance and can't come up with $400K for the kind of treatment at a big-time cancer center that might save or at least prolong his life. He's been given 12-18 months.

He is getting some treatment from the V.A. hospital in Syracuse. However, he says, "the VA is good but only as good as they can be--they're not up to date on everything and they're a little slow."

So what? you say. This isn't news. Guy should've thought of that before he got cancer. (What is it they say? If you can't afford the treatment, don't get the disease?) Anyways, we all gotta die. So quit bustin' my chops--unless maybe HE'S the father of Anna Nicole Smith's baby. Now that's news. Ya got somethin' on that, get back to me.

Ah, but you see, it is news. I tricked you.

I left out the newsworthy part!

You see, the guy won the New York State Lottery! Big prize: $1M. Only--and here's the kicker--the lottery people say for sure they can only pay the money out over 20 years, absolutely no choice in the matter. If you're really interested in the ins and outs of it, that's amply covered in the article.

You see, the yearly payout, $50K, isn't even ante-up money in the "Show me the money" world of cancer care. Wayne, it appears, has gotten the price list from Eastern Regional Medical Center in Philadelphia: $125K up front plus $250K in reserves.

Well, sayonara, Wayne! And thanks for playing our game.

On AOL, you see, this is a story about the big bad NYS Lottery. Of course, the thing is that, thanks to the splash of the lottery angle, you can be pretty sure that someone will step in and work things out.

Me, I'm stuck thinking about this story without the lottery angle. I mean, back before Wayne won the lottery, you remember it was going to be perfectly OK for him to die. Oh, there might have been a "human interest" angle that would have gotten him some local media exposure, maybe even gotten him inside the door at Eastern Regional.

But how many people are out there living out death sentences because they're not Donald Trump?

So what am I saying in my pinko Commie way, that it's society's problem? I dunno, maybe I am. I don't know this guy from Adam, but I say his life is worth at least as much as Trump's, and almost certainly more. (We're forced to deduct points from Trump's score for . . . well, for just about everything he's ever said and done in his life.)

I hate to beat up on Trump. (Nah, I love it!) And the point isn't to jump at the chance to beat up on him just because he's such a vile turd. (OK, it may not be the point, but it's fun.)

The point is, this shouldn't be a story about the hard-hearted lottery people. It is, though, and I'm sorry, but that's kind of making me nauseous.