Let's admit it. Secretly down inside we have all thought it would be fantastic to win a big payday by casually plunking down a dollar or two on a lottery ticket. We all know the odds are extremely long. We are all aware of the moral issues and wise counsel against becoming ensnared in gambling. Yet still it would be extremely enjoyable to have a windfall that could pay off debt, provide for a fantastic family trip, add a new car to the garage, and in general take the edge off of the pressures of grinding out a living and/or socking away money for retirement.
I live in a state that is only one of two in the USA to have no form of legalized gambling whatsoever, yet I'm still drawn to the stories of lottery winners. I think it's fun to follow the two big lotteries - especially when the jackpots get really big. There is a web site that provides information on both big lotteries -- the Powerball lottery, and the Mega Millions lottery-- all in one place, and I happen upon this site, usamega.com, a few times a month to get a quick picture of when the lottery jackpots are getting big and to sometimes read the stories of the big payout winners.
Both of these big conglomerate lotteries have a total of 6 numbers that if matched exactly will produce a jackpot winner -- five numbers from a big set (something like 1 to 56 or thereabouts), plus a Mega number or Power number from a different set of lottery balls (something like 1 -52 or thereabouts).
Because the odds are so ridiculous that you'd ever actually match the first five numbers, AND match the Mega or Power number -- the jackpot amounts grow and grow and grow until literally by pure and outrageous chance, all the numbers match someone's lucky ticket, or when the masses of tickets purchased is so enormous, from time to time there are a few tickets that have all six numbers matching -- but usually no more than 2 or 3 out of the gazillions purchased.
Even if the Jackpot isn't won, there are 'winners' every week -- people who match a portion of the number set get a payout larger than the dollar it took to buy their set of numbers. The payouts relationship is based on how long the odds are that any one ticket would match the particular set of numbers. For example, if you have a ticket with 5 numbers plus the Mega or Power number, and none of your 5 numbers were selected by the lottery ping pong ball vacuum, but your Mega or Power number is selected, you'd win $2 (at least in the Mega Millions Lottery).
The odds of having only your Mega Number get sucked up by the ping pong ball vacuum, according to the usamega.com site, are 1 in 75. That's a little like you sitting with your entire 5th grade during an assembly, with perhaps 6 or 7 kids absent in a day, and of everyone left, in a random drawing of possible 5th grade participants you, yes you get to be the lucky kid who comes up in front of everyone to pin a corsage on the giant woman of a librarian who is retiring after 39 years of wonderful service. What are the odds of that? Like, 1 in 75 or something? Yes.
Well, it just so happens that the odds of actually matching the first 5 lottery numbers in the Mega Millions lottery are 1 in 3,904,701. And someone who miraculously does this in fact wins a life changing amount of money -- $250,000. Even if taxes are taken out, you'd still be left with a chunk of money big enough to have various and sundry people you know well, or barely know at all, ask you for a hand out - and/or perhaps do those things I talked about earlier - pay off debt, buy a car, go on a trip, sock something away for retirement, etc.
As I've followed these lotteries periodically for a number of years, I've noticed that when there isn't a jackpot winner, the number of $250,000 winners naturally grows as the jackpot grows and more and more people buy tickets. That's what you'd expect to happen, after all.
But try this on for weird. The Mega Millions Lottery, on Friday May 15th, during a time when the jackpot was realtively small ($38 Million dollars -- small by comparison of just a week or so ago when it was up to closer to $225 Million dollars) had an inordinate number of $250,000 winners. Before I tell you the number, to set the stage, in the drawing before May 15th, when the jackpot was $28 Million dollars there were 4 lucky tickets that matched the first 5 numbers. The drawing before that, when the jackpot was $17 Million dollars, had 3 tickets match the first 5 numbers - and same with the drawing before that, when the jackpot was at its starting point ($12 Million)-- only 3 tickets matched the first 5 numbers.
Friday, May 15th there were THIRTY SIX (36) tickets that matched the first 5 numbers. So, what number combination do you now NEVER want to play because an entire black hole of luck sucking energy was applied to them? The first 5 numbers were 7, 12, 24, 36, 48 and there were even TWO tickets that matched the mega number as well (which was 27, if you're keeping score at home). So, two tickets split what's left over after 34 tickets get paid $250,000. Yes, a huge amount of money to be sure, but what in tarnation happened in the luck universe that allowed this to happen? Perhaps there has been a rip in the luck universe somewhere, and luck will now start pouring out in golden buckets? I know it did on Friday. Perhaps it's time to go buy lottery tickets and cash in on the gusher?
All I can say is, if you do, I hope you have fantastic luck and best wishes to you!
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
World Record Meant to be Broken... Fingernails...
A story in today's Salt Lake Tribune informed us that a car accident brought to end a world record owned by a fellow Utahn: World's Longest Fingernails. Lee Redmond evidently lost her clippers in 1979 somewhere in her couch while listening to 'Sad Eyes' by Robert John, and made a determination that she was never going to clip again. (Okay, I made up that part. But it was 1979 when she stopped clipping her nails, and it was 1979 when Robert John had his #1 soft hit, so there is a slight possibility this could have occurred.)
And what happens if you never clip again? Well, my friends, seeing how your fingernails know nothing but growing- and keep doing so even after you die - not surprisingly her nails kept growing. Fingernails grow at a rate of about 3.7 cm/year. If you need help understanding how much that is because you never learned the Metric system, or the Dewey Decimal System, it's about the distance between the carton of eggs and the quarter block of mild cheddar cheese on the second shelf of my fridge right now. I just checked. So, with 30 years of growth- at this rate when you add it all up- it's clear her nails were pretty long.
There are a few instinctive thoughts that came to my mind when I read this story. I don't wish ill will on anyone, so I was happy to hear that she survived the accident. However, it turns out she could have really been hurt. She was thrown from the car. Apparently, clicking a seat belt with 88.9 cm long fingernails is difficult, or difficult enough that she didn't do it yesterday. Also, what a fantastic landing that must have been. Unless we aren't getting the full and accurate information, she evidently broke ALL of her fingernails. ALL of them in one unpracticed landing. Not one licorice rope-length beauty survived? How disappointing. This is incredulous to me. What are the odds of that? Something like, 847 to 1? But then again, perhaps fingernails, when they get longer than nature intended them, they turn brittle -- like blown glass. She obviously hasn't recently been to Madge and soaked accidentally in Palm Olive to soften up those over extended Freddy Krugers. Or maybe what really happened is that most of them broke, and then she or the authorities, or someone, decided they'd clip the remaining one or two nails. After all, they wouldn't want her to look like a freak.
Think about the freedoms and new experiences she will now enjoy! Caressing her grand daughter's cheek without eliciting tears - and while in the same room! Hand picking her own plate of food next time she goes to Golden Corral! Safely raising her arms above her head, even though kinda against the rules, while riding the white roller coaster at Lagoon! Going to a spook alley during Halloween, and having the spooks scare her! Engaging in a satisfying round of personal nasal mining! Using a debit card at the grocery store! And actually being able to vote with our new 'leave your print' voting machines.
Yes, on one hand this was an unfortunate end to a long and standing record, but clearly we need to be looking at the silver lining beneath her broken record. If you ever see her on the street, you can now be unafraid to give her a high five and wish her well with her new freedoms and life.
And what happens if you never clip again? Well, my friends, seeing how your fingernails know nothing but growing- and keep doing so even after you die - not surprisingly her nails kept growing. Fingernails grow at a rate of about 3.7 cm/year. If you need help understanding how much that is because you never learned the Metric system, or the Dewey Decimal System, it's about the distance between the carton of eggs and the quarter block of mild cheddar cheese on the second shelf of my fridge right now. I just checked. So, with 30 years of growth- at this rate when you add it all up- it's clear her nails were pretty long.
There are a few instinctive thoughts that came to my mind when I read this story. I don't wish ill will on anyone, so I was happy to hear that she survived the accident. However, it turns out she could have really been hurt. She was thrown from the car. Apparently, clicking a seat belt with 88.9 cm long fingernails is difficult, or difficult enough that she didn't do it yesterday. Also, what a fantastic landing that must have been. Unless we aren't getting the full and accurate information, she evidently broke ALL of her fingernails. ALL of them in one unpracticed landing. Not one licorice rope-length beauty survived? How disappointing. This is incredulous to me. What are the odds of that? Something like, 847 to 1? But then again, perhaps fingernails, when they get longer than nature intended them, they turn brittle -- like blown glass. She obviously hasn't recently been to Madge and soaked accidentally in Palm Olive to soften up those over extended Freddy Krugers. Or maybe what really happened is that most of them broke, and then she or the authorities, or someone, decided they'd clip the remaining one or two nails. After all, they wouldn't want her to look like a freak.
Think about the freedoms and new experiences she will now enjoy! Caressing her grand daughter's cheek without eliciting tears - and while in the same room! Hand picking her own plate of food next time she goes to Golden Corral! Safely raising her arms above her head, even though kinda against the rules, while riding the white roller coaster at Lagoon! Going to a spook alley during Halloween, and having the spooks scare her! Engaging in a satisfying round of personal nasal mining! Using a debit card at the grocery store! And actually being able to vote with our new 'leave your print' voting machines.
Yes, on one hand this was an unfortunate end to a long and standing record, but clearly we need to be looking at the silver lining beneath her broken record. If you ever see her on the street, you can now be unafraid to give her a high five and wish her well with her new freedoms and life.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Am I too competitive?
Yesterday in the bathroom at work I had entered to do the #2 of two things most commonly done in a bathroom. There are four toilet stalls in this particular bathroom design. For purposes of clarity we could call the stalls A, B, C, and D moving from left to right, if you were facing the stalls and trying to pick a throne location. Stall A is a 'handicap' stall, with spacious room and amenities like a stabilizer rail, while B through D are your standard class toilet stalls. (As an aside, I have no problem 'treating' myself to the first class comforts of the 'handicap' stall when I go to the restroom and need to 'rest'-- as often times the pains and urgency of the moment literally handicap me for several minutes. For those few minutes, I am indeed handicapped.)
Well, as it goes, stalls B and D were occupied with legs that I could see, and odors that I couldn't see (thankfully - but it was close). I chose the first class cabin, stall A, and sat down to do my thing.
For most of my life I have had very good movement with my movements - on time (they occur when I expect them to occur), and purposeful (they don't loaf around, so to speak). In short, they clearly do what I expect them to do when I want them to do it. While there are times when they are too anxious, most of the time things are controlled and go very quickly and well. Yesterday was no exception. My movement made its move expeditiously. I efficiently and neatly cleaned up (I'm a folder, not a wadder - and for those of you who need to hear the virtues of being a folder I can certainly extol these virtues-- you control the dimensions and thickness of all parts of the paper and minimize risk of serious 'creamy nightmare occurrance'; you are much better prepared to economize when you find yourself 'short of sheet'; wadders are 8 times more likely too 'over guess' and over build, and cause toilet cloggage-- as compared to the well thought out, measured creation of the folder. And last but not least, folders are more eco friendly. I'm confident I've used truckloads less paper in my lifetime than a typical wadder).
As I left the comforts of the first class cabin, the gents in stalls B and D were still involved with whatever they were involved with. It was clear that I was completely done and also clear that I had started my event at a later point than they did. I could not resist the urge, which I have thought about from time to time, to make a clear comment to their embarrassment, or at least belittlment "You guys need to eat more FIBER!!! -- I totall LAPPED you guys!!!" I said with pride and confidence and a chuckle as I washed my hands. I knew they were no match for me.
I later learned that one of the guys I lapped was a friend of mine (you can't tell from pant legs bunched down over shoes, smells of completely used food, and various fleshy air compression based noises (generally) who people are. It would be a pure stroke of good fortune for me to have called out randomly "Hey Kev, is that you?" not having seen Kevin go into the bathroom for certain- not to mention it breaks the bathroom stall male etiquite general standards, which is understood to be 'silence while BMing' and friendly visits while 'weeing') While I still sort of broke the rule for talking while they were still engaged, it was worth it to proclaim to them my supremacy, while also offering good health advice.
Perhaps I'm too competitive?
Well, as it goes, stalls B and D were occupied with legs that I could see, and odors that I couldn't see (thankfully - but it was close). I chose the first class cabin, stall A, and sat down to do my thing.
For most of my life I have had very good movement with my movements - on time (they occur when I expect them to occur), and purposeful (they don't loaf around, so to speak). In short, they clearly do what I expect them to do when I want them to do it. While there are times when they are too anxious, most of the time things are controlled and go very quickly and well. Yesterday was no exception. My movement made its move expeditiously. I efficiently and neatly cleaned up (I'm a folder, not a wadder - and for those of you who need to hear the virtues of being a folder I can certainly extol these virtues-- you control the dimensions and thickness of all parts of the paper and minimize risk of serious 'creamy nightmare occurrance'; you are much better prepared to economize when you find yourself 'short of sheet'; wadders are 8 times more likely too 'over guess' and over build, and cause toilet cloggage-- as compared to the well thought out, measured creation of the folder. And last but not least, folders are more eco friendly. I'm confident I've used truckloads less paper in my lifetime than a typical wadder).
As I left the comforts of the first class cabin, the gents in stalls B and D were still involved with whatever they were involved with. It was clear that I was completely done and also clear that I had started my event at a later point than they did. I could not resist the urge, which I have thought about from time to time, to make a clear comment to their embarrassment, or at least belittlment "You guys need to eat more FIBER!!! -- I totall LAPPED you guys!!!" I said with pride and confidence and a chuckle as I washed my hands. I knew they were no match for me.
I later learned that one of the guys I lapped was a friend of mine (you can't tell from pant legs bunched down over shoes, smells of completely used food, and various fleshy air compression based noises (generally) who people are. It would be a pure stroke of good fortune for me to have called out randomly "Hey Kev, is that you?" not having seen Kevin go into the bathroom for certain- not to mention it breaks the bathroom stall male etiquite general standards, which is understood to be 'silence while BMing' and friendly visits while 'weeing') While I still sort of broke the rule for talking while they were still engaged, it was worth it to proclaim to them my supremacy, while also offering good health advice.
Perhaps I'm too competitive?
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