Why can't my life be "ruined" like this?

Pity poor Keith Gough, who recently died of a heart attack. Life had really knocked this guy around. His life, you see, was "ruined" by the acquisition of £9 million. I really don't need to say anything else, do I? The point must surely be taken. Life doesn't get more soul-degrading or just plain shittier than that, eh?
Five years ago, this individual won the Lottery, spent it all on fast cars, race horses and an executive box to watch a group of men, as rich as him and wearing basketball shorts, kick a ball up and down a field.
You know, if I won £9 million, I'd be paying people to keep that woefully silly game out of my life. Alas, I digress ...
How do these people do it? How do they get their hands on that serious sort of cash—and then actually end up worse than they were before they won it? Well, I know how: By spending on pointless extravaganzes like those just described. That tells me that certain people should not play the Lottery.
But hey, it's anyone's right to play and win, then spend without thought, watch their marriage go down the drain and drink themselves into a coma nearly every night. I particularly like what Mr. Gough had to say after his millions caused him such misery. "[T]he lottery has ruined everything. What's the point of having money when it sends you to bed crying?" he philosophized. "Now when I see someone going in to a newsagent I advise them not to buy a lottery ticket."
I see. So, because you're a top-rate dickhead, whose intellectual capacity makes Gomer Pyle look like a Rhodes scholar, that means no-one should play? Of all the things I should be worried about, putting myself in a position to win millions is what ought to frighten me the most? Please. Spare me your advice, sir, because it's clearly the product of an empty head.
If I win the Lottery, I'm treating the money wisely. Give some to family, best friends and non-animal testing charities. Keep just enough to live comfortably, never have to work again and wake up every day prepared to have some fun with my life. Although I might just splurge on a first-class seating season ticket at Fenway Park, so that I could follow a real sport.
In fact, I can't help but think, why can't my life be "ruined" like that?
You can be assured that the last thing I'd do is drink myself to pieces, drive Squirrel away in the process, then moan about how the money ruined my life. It's hardly the money's fault that I would have acted stupidly.
That's why I never feel sorry for any of these ruined Lottery winners that you see in the news every now and again. In fact, not only do I not feel the slightest bit of empathy for them, but I yearn to bash them into a brick wall anywhere from 20 to 50 times, depending on how generous a mood I'm in at the time.
Mr. Gough doesn't have that to worry about from me, though. Our paths won't be crossing. He's already dead.