I busted a mirror and got seven years bad luck, but my lawyer

Steven Wright, master of dry wit and paradox, once declared with his peculiar humor: “I busted a mirror and got seven years bad luck, but my lawyer thinks he can get me five.” Though it comes to us wrapped in comedy, like so much of Wright’s wisdom, beneath the jest lies a mirror itself—reflecting truths about superstition, law, and the human yearning to bend fate to our will. His words, seemingly light, strike deep when weighed with the seriousness of ancient counsel, for they reveal how mankind wrestles with destiny, authority, and the eternal question of luck versus justice.

The meaning of this saying lies first in its play upon superstition. For centuries, the breaking of a mirror has been linked to seven years bad luck, a belief that stretches back to the Romans, who thought reflections bound to the soul and cycles of seven years determined life’s renewal. Wright twists this ancient omen into a courtroom drama, as if ill-fortune itself could be argued down by a lawyer, negotiated like a legal sentence. Here, humor arises from the clash of two worlds—the irrational realm of superstition and the rational realm of law. Yet in this clash lies a lesson: humans forever seek to reason their way out of fate, to find hope even when bound by traditions of doom.

The origin of the joke rests in Wright’s comedic style, which blends absurdity with logic. He takes the illogical—bad luck from a mirror—and treats it with the solemnity of legal proceedings. But in doing so, he uncovers an old truth: that humanity often tries to manage what cannot be managed, to legislate against chance, to bargain with the inevitable. His humor reflects not only laughter but a subtle wisdom: that life’s misfortunes, real or imagined, are softened when we face them with wit and perspective.

History offers us a parallel. Consider the sailors of old who feared the cry of the albatross as an omen of death, or the men of ancient Rome who delayed great undertakings if the omens were unkind. Yet at the same time, governments and philosophers sought ways to tame these fears with reason, law, and order. The Enlightenment itself was, in a sense, an age when humanity brought superstition into the courtroom, arguing it down with reason, seeking to free men from the chains of irrational dread. Just as Wright’s lawyer negotiates with bad luck, so too have thinkers of every age sought to free man from the tyranny of fear.

There is also an emotional undercurrent in Wright’s humor. For who among us has not felt trapped by unseen forces—be they superstition, circumstance, or misfortune—and wished for some advocate to lighten the burden? His jest whispers to the human heart: perhaps even fate itself can be lessened, perhaps doom is not as heavy as it seems, perhaps there is always a way to make the sentence lighter. Laughter becomes here a shield, a reminder that even when bound by tradition or fate, the human spirit seeks freedom.

To future generations, this saying holds both warning and hope. The warning: do not let superstition enslave your life, for to believe blindly in omens is to hand power to shadows. The hope: even when life does bring hardship—whether real, imagined, or symbolic—face it with reason, humor, and courage. Just as a lawyer can argue for mercy, so too can the human mind argue with despair, finding ways to endure and to hope.

The lesson is this: laugh at misfortune, question superstition, and never yield entirely to the weight of fear. Practically, this means not allowing irrational beliefs to guide your choices, but instead seeking clarity, truth, and resilience. It means recognizing that while some hardships cannot be avoided, their power can be diminished by the spirit with which we confront them. Humor itself becomes a tool of wisdom, a way to rob misfortune of its sting.

Thus Steven Wright’s words endure: “I busted a mirror and got seven years bad luck, but my lawyer thinks he can get me five.” Hear them not only as jest, but as counsel: do not surrender to superstition, do not despair in misfortune, and above all, remember that the mind armed with wit and wisdom can turn even curses into laughter. For in laughter lies freedom, and in freedom lies strength.