justified murder

One of the radio stations up here was doing a $100,000 contest today. They had a date written on a slip of paper in an envelope, and if you were caller X you won $200 and got to tell the DJ your birthday, and if your date matched the slip of paper, you won the hundred grand. All this I absorbed in about ten seconds on my way to buy a frozen pizza at Hy Vee, and what followed was pretty much like this:

DJ (woman in late-20s): Hi, you're caller X. What's your name?

Guy: (sounds stoned): Matt.

DJ: Well, Matt, you just won $200 and just might win . . . $100,000!

Guy: . . . awesome.

DJ: What would you do if you won the money, Matt?

Guy: I . . . guess I'd buy a car. Yeah . . .

DJ: A car, huh? Well, Matt, tell me your birthday.

Guy: May 6, 1983.

DJ: May 6, 1983. Okay, let's see what's in the envelope.

ABOUT TEN SECONDS OF DEAD AIR HERE. WHISPERED VOICE OF DJ, UNINTELLIGBLE.

DJ: (quietly) Oh my god. (louder) Oh my god.

Guy: What?

DJ: Oh my god.

Guy: Is that good?

DJ: (almost yelling) A hundred thousand dollars! May 6!

Guy: Yeah! Are you serious?

DJ: (to someone in studio) It says May 6. A hundred thousand dollars!

Guy: Whoa . . .

DJ: A hundredy thousand dollars, I can't believe it! A hundred--what? Oh, 1950? Oooh. It has to be 1950. (awkward silence, then careful chuckling) Well, that was close. Not quite it, Matt.

Guy: . . .