When it comes to gambling, North Carolinians may well have a corner on the hypocrisy market.

Our state legislature recently passed a law banning video gaming machines. Supporters of the ban called it just another form of gambling that chiefly affects the people least able to afford such gaming.

Yet North Carolina brags about collecting buckets of money from lottery winners to pay off their debts.

The debts are such things as unpaid taxes, child support, student loans and hospital bills, owed by the less well-heeled. I'm pretty sure that most of the people whose lottery winnings are being garnisheed are low income or unemployed.

I see further proof that the lottery targets the poor and ignorant in a report that the state recently made a record $1.4 billion in lottery sales. State officials attributed the booming figure to the introduction of a new and popular game. Maybe. But we're also aware of the state's high unemployment rate.

Gamblers fall into two major categories: people who enjoy it as a pastime and can afford it, and the poor who hope to hit the big time. It just makes sense that one reason for the recent boom in lottery sales is wishful thinking on the part of the longtime unemployed.

Arguments in favor of a state lottery were numerous and persuasive when the legislature finally, after years of debate, approved the law. To appease critics, the lottery was established to benefit education with profits designated for specific purposes, such as capital improvements and maintaining lower class sizes.

At the risk of being labeled a snob, I must confess that, to me, the television commercials on the lottery send a message tailored to the taste of the less well-informed public. That's as kindly a way as I can put it. The ads are tacky.

But the blame doesn't lie with the legislature or the hopes of would-be gamblers. We all share the blame.

Consider the educators hungering for hunks of money they envisioned the lottery would produce. Consider businesses and individuals savoring the prospect that a lottery would mean a reduction in taxes. Dream on.

Then look at churches and social and civic groups that sponsor bingo games and raffles. In their defense, these fundraisers are relatively low in cost. The average raffle ticket for a homemade quilt may range as low as $1 to $2 per ticket. I have no idea how much it costs to play bingo in the church fellowship hall or at the community center, but it's probably not much.

I don't like gambling, but in some ways it makes sense to legalize gambling by adopting strict enforcement laws. You can already gamble legally at Cherokee, where Native American reservation status differs from state law. Among your choices there are video slots.

The best argument against sweepstakes parlors comes from law-enforcement officials, who say the places breed crime and mayhem.

Illegal liquor stills provided fodder for law enforcement agencies when I was a child. Today marijuana farming replaces stills.

I was an adult before I fully understood that the -fervor to destroy liquor stills had nothing to do with morals or the public health and welfare. It had -everything to do with destroying an operation that sold a product on which taxes are not collected. It didn't matter that the rotgut produced by the still might burn out your insides or make you blind. Nor did it matter that whiskey broke up families and deprived children of nourishment and health care. It was all about money.

Is destroying a still or a marijuana plot an act of -protecting the public interest or simply destroying someone else's way to make a living?

Other questions also nag at me: How can we ban sweepstakes parlors when our state sponsors a -lottery? Is there a difference between legislating morals and money? What message do we send to our schoolchildren?

Contact Florence Gilkeson by e-mail at florence@thepilot.com.