The human mind is a complex and contradictory thing, full of connections that don’t always make any sense.  I can’t drink a Diet Cherry Coke without fondly remembering that it was always my mother’s drink of choice.  I have a specific sorta-luck red shirt and black-and-white tie that I wear when I want to do well in interviews and such.  And when I was 9 years old, I decided that the number fifty-three (as seen on the hood of Herbie the Love Bug) would be my lucky number.  Thirty-odd years later, my adult mind has completely accepted that childish assertion as fact, no matter how much my rational mind would deny it, and it is actually a little bit unnerving how often that number has randomly occurred in conjunction with positive moments in my life, which leads us to today’s unexpectedly superstitious query…

The MS-QOTD (pronounced, as always, “misquoted”) is adamant that a lucky number is firmly and completely in my mind and can have no impact on a greater cosmology, and yet I feel better when things end in ’53’ anyway, asking: If you had to choose one right now, whether or not it has any actual mystical power or significance, what would be your lucky number?


About Author

Once upon a time, there was a young nerd from the Midwest, who loved Matter-Eater Lad and the McKenzie Brothers... If pop culture were a maze, Matthew would be the Minotaur at its center. Were it a mall, he'd be the Food Court. Were it a parking lot, he’d be the distant Cart Corral where the weird kids gather to smoke, but that’s not important right now... Matthew enjoys body surfing (so long as the bodies are fresh), writing in the third person, and dark-eyed women. Amongst his weaponry are such diverse elements as: Fear! Surprise! Ruthless efficiency! An almost fanatical devotion to pop culture! And a nice red uniform.


  1. 13, and not because it is “cool” or any trivial reason like that. Among various examples in my life when it has been lucky, I had an extremely complicated lifesaving operation performed on Friday the 13th in room 13 back when I was 4 years old. The doctor who performed the operation almost refused to do the operation because of his superstitions, but without it I would not have survived the night.

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