You Can Lose It All – If You Don’t Play The Lottery

It’s been a couple weeks since American’s last bout of lottery mania.  Strangely enough, the big $590 million winner has not yet come forward.  I think he is busy planning the day when he turns in his winning ticket, does his obligatory interview and then quickly jets off to his new private island in the Caribbean.

We do hope that the winner is a kind, decent, soul who deserves the money and not that obnoxious jerk Brad La Duca from your graduating class.  We also hope that the winner is not an 89-year old geezer who would spend the money on new teeth, brand-name pudding and extra-absorbent Depends.

My feelings on the lottery have evolved over the years.  I do agree with whoever said “the lottery is a tax on people who are bad at math”.  For some it is a tax on the stupid, which is still better than a “stupid tax” of which we have too many.  If you are counting on winning the lottery as your retirement plan or if you are unemployed and this is your job hunting strategy, you are indeed stupid and should not be playing the lottery.

But I think most people play the lottery because they are buying hope, they are buying fantasy.  For a dollar they can get a cheap thrill of escapism.  People buy lottery tickets for the same reason guys buy Playboy, it gives you the fantasy of having something you are never going to get.

Opponents of the game claim that you have a better chance of being struck by lightning than winning the lottery, but this analogy is stupid.  You are comparing the chance of something very bad, with the chance of something very good.  Given the choice between getting struck by lightning and winning the lotto, I’ll choose the lottery.  So I better buy a ticket, because of course I do not want to get struck by lightning!

I have to be one of the few people who have won more money from the lottery than I have spent.  This is because I bought one ticket when I turned 18, because I was now “lottery legal”.  Unbelievably, I lost.  This really fizzed me off and I never bought another ticket.  However I have won small amounts on lottery tickets that people gave me as “gifts”.  But lottery tickets have to be the lamest gift ever (sorry Aunt Sally).  “Hey, I just spent two whole dollars that give you the opportunity to collect mega-millions of dollars.  Oh you didn’t win; well that’s your problem.”  And when a person does win big with a gift ticket, of course you have to give Aunt Sally a generous cut.

Although the odds of winning the Power Ball drawing are astronomical, there is one circumstance where you should always buy a ticket. If your coworkers are collecting money for the “office pool”, you should always participate.   This is not because you actually want to win, it is insurance just in case the knuckleheads you work with hit it big.  If you decline to contribute, you could be sitting on your couch eating macaroni and cheese watching that moron Gail from Accounting telling the world how she plans to spend her millions.  You do not want to be that guy! Two dollars is a small price to pay to eliminate the chance of that ever happening.

And this stigma would be long lasting.  You would always be known at work as that cheap sonavabitch who didn’t join the mega-million dollar winning lotto pool.  “The fool wouldn’t spend just two dollars, what an idiot.”  You would have to train all your new coworkers and when you retired the company president would remark, “This is a special day because we haven’t had anyone retire in years.  Of course that it because all the people Bill’s age left the company after hitting the Powerball years ago.  Bill was always such a cheap sonavabitch.” In your eulogy they will say that Bill almost won $10 million in the lottery one time, but he didn’t play, because he was such a cheap

The only thing missing from this photo is you!

sonavabitch!

And your coworkers will quit their jobs after they win.  Everyone says they won’t quit their jobs if and when they win, but they are liars. Even bigger liars than our government!  Even if they try to continue working, it only lasts until their butthead boss says or does something moronic that upsets them (otherwise known as Tuesday).  Then they realize they could be home, lying on the couch, watching Judge Judy and eating snacks.  And not cheap snacks either.  We are talking vegetable chips with organic guacamole.

Strangely enough, during my career a coworker has never asked me to join a lottery pool.  Then again, they all know I am good at math.  

I Dated Taylor Swift (and she wrote a song about it)

Recently I had the awesome experience of dating Taylor Swift.  Now you might wonder how I attracted the affection of Ms. Swift, but I was wearing my $230 designer Pit Bull sunglasses and chicks just can’t resist them.  I think she may have actually thought I was Pit Bull when we began the relationship.  In addition, she is from Pennsylvania so maybe I had my Pennsylvania Dutch mojo going.

Unfortunately the relationship lasted only 15 minutes.  No, this wasn’t speed dating.  Apparently courtships move much faster these days.  However I found out afterward that brief relationships are common for Taylor and that I actually lasted longer than some of her boyfriends.

What a cute couple!

Now you might think she left me because the sex was bad, but let me assure you that was not the case.  I can say this because the relationship lasted only 15 minutes and my blue pill takes about an hour to work.   It wasn’t the sex, but it could have been her unfamiliarity with my Aqua Velva after shave. 

I know I should not be dating young chicks at my age, especially since I am married.  But c’mon, this is TAYLOR SWIFT!  I mean she is smoking hot, she is super rich and she does not appear to be too bright.  In other words, many guys would consider her the “perfect woman”!

But it ended much too quickly.  Apparently there was a problem with our ages.  Okay, so there was a problem with my age.  She said she wanted to go back to December, but just not May/December.  She said she was afraid someday I might leave drool drops on her guitar. So the relationship came to an abrupt end.

When I was younger I would have been crushed by this rejection, but now I just got some nachos and everything was fine.  I did text her the next day, but she texted back “We are never, ever, ever, getting back together”.

I thought that was the end of this incident until I turned on radio a few weeks later and heard Taylor wailing a song she had written about our fling:

I really thought you were the one, but I am older than your son

I wanted me some six-pack abs, not 6 big pounds of belly flab

You were so suave and debonair – didn’t notice all of your ear hair

Now I’m REALLY, REALLY, REALLY MAD! – ‘cuz you’re old enough to be my dad.

da da, -  da,da, - dadadada – da da

I thought you said you were European, but that just meant always, you’re a peein’

I just wanted to frolic in Niagra, but you said you needed some Viagra

Yeh, yeh, yeh,  when I’m with you, I feeling “52”

Now I’m REALLY, REALLY, REALLY MAD! – ‘cuz you’re old enough to be my dad.

da da, -  da,da, - dadadada – da da

So as the mega hit “Old Enough To Be My Dad” rockets up the charts, I am totally embarrassed and Taylor makes a few more millions.  But I have learned my lesson.  I am not going to be used and have my heart broken by a hot, young, celebrity ever again.  However if anyone happens to have Shania Twain’s cell number, please send it over.

And in response to Ms. Swift’s song, I have decided to write a song of my own about the relationship.

Okay this song writing stuff can’t be too difficult ….

I should have bought you flowers,

I should have held your hand

Should have gave you all my hours …

“Wait, what? Bruno who? From where?  So Bruno from Mars has already done this?  Okay, let’s start over.

All you young, wild, girls

You make a mess of me

All you young, wild, girls …

What now?  Are you freaking kidding me? That Bruno guy again!

That’s it.  Just forget I said anything about any of this.

The Straight Poop On The Amish

Recently over 100 Amish people in Ohio protested a law that required all new houses to be equipped with modern wells and septic systems.  At first I supported the Amish on this since I thought the plumbing systems were electrically-powered and the Amish have an established tradition of non-electric living.

But then I found out that there are hydraulic-powered systems that require no electricity, that meet the building code.  This means the Amish were not protesting over being forced to use electricity. No, they were protesting for the right to poop outside.

Now I may support the Amish’s right of religious freedom, but I cannot support this.  This is crazy.  This is bats**t crazy, literally if you happen to accidently trap a bat in the outhouse.  If you are protesting for the right to poop outside, I will not stand with you.  In fact, I will not even stand downwind from you.  America provides many individual freedoms, but the right to poop outside is not one of them.

And I don’t think the Amish are standing, or squatting, on freedom of religion here.  I don’t believe God cares where you poop.  I can’t see where this is a religious issue at all.  Despite the expression, I don’t think it is possible to take a holy s**t, although I used to work with a guy who proved it is possible to take an unholy one.

I don’t care how pure your doctrine is, how great your church is or how pleasant your members are.  If your religion requires me to poop outside, that’s a real deal breaker.  And I shall not be moved. And when I am moved, it will be in a nice, temperature-controlled, indoor, state-of-the art, commode with electric lights and a sink nearby!

The Amish could build the house with the modern plumbing system, but just not use it.  Of course you know what would happen.  Elmer would get up in the middle of a frigid winter night.  He would have a choice to make and his flush would narc him out to the other people in the house.  “Elmer, thy buns have touched the porcelain. Ye are a sinner!”

You might think since I am a “city boy” that I have never utilized an outhouse for turdilation.  You would be wrong.  My family migrated from central Pennsylvania, right near Amish country. (Wow, when you think about it, a few miles to the east and I would be typing this blog on a manual typewriter and would be posting it by nailing a copy to your front door).  We would visit relatives in Pennsylvania when I was young and one sweltering-hot day the indoor bathrooms were occupied and I had to utilize the outhouse in the woods.  This was a very traumatic experience that I have not recovered from, even to this day.

Where you poop is very important.  It defines you.  It cultures you. It helps establish your persona.  That’s why outhouses are very important to the Amish.  They take much time and effort to construct fantastic outhouses, some of the finest outhouses in the world.  The Amish even have an expression to describe a hot Amish woman (which is an oxymoron) that says, “She is built like a brick “s**thouse”.  Because to an Amishman nothing in the world is better than a tight, sturdy, outhouse that keeps out the cold and wind on a frigid winter morning.

Hot, but not really Amish

Incredibly a variation of this expression was the basis for the Commodores 1977 hit song “Brickhouse” (She’s a brick --- house!).  Fortunately the Commodores did not sing “She’s a brick s**thouse”.  I think perhaps that could have slightly dampened the song’s appeal.  I’m sorry, any culture that positively likens a beautiful woman to the place where you poop, just ain’t right. It is certified crazy. It is bats**t crazy indeed. 

The Best Amish Group of All Time!

Have Cleveland Browns Fans Been Screwed Again?

Cleveland Browns fans are very worried over recent events at the Flying J Corporation which is owned by team owner Jimmy Haslam.  Everyone is concerned about just how much trouble this is going to cause the team.  So let’s review what has happened so far.

News Item:  FBI and IRS agents raid and “lock down” Flying J headquarters in Tennessee, citing issues regarding unpaid rebates.

(Now at first I thought I may have caused the problem since I had recently complained about the Flying J.  A few weeks ago the clerk at the Flying J had refused to give me my tenth cup of coffee free after I bought my first nine.  He was from Florida and he claimed that there was a hanging chad on my sixth cup and thus the card showed that I had bought eight previous cups, not nine.  However, the Feds said that the problem had to do with diesel fuel rebates, so I was off the hook.  But Jimmy wasn’t.)

In Response Jimmy Sez: This is just a little bitty misunderstanding.  Nothing to see here.  There are no rebate problems and I don’t even know about any rebates, so there are no problems. 

"I got your rebate right here" 

News Item: Everybody knew about the rebate program, including Jimmy.

In Response Jimmy Sez: Oh, you mean that rebate program.  I thought you were referring to some other rebate program that I of course knew nothin’ about.  Yeh there is a rebate program, but there are absolutely no problems with it.

News Item: Flying J employees say the rebate program was used to cheat and defraud customers.  Rebates were promised to customers but were not paid if not requested. They said workers commonly used the terms “jacking the customer” and “screwing the customer” in referring to the rebate program.

 In Response Jimmy Sez: I ain’t quitin’.

To be fair, many customers at truck stops get jacked and screwed every day.  Of course this happens in the parking lot by independent contractors practicing the world’s oldest profession.  The big difference between these ladies and Flying J, is that at least they are screwing their customers honestly.  I also doubt if they offer any rebates.

"No, we don't offer any rebates, but we are
running a 2 for 1 special"

The Browns claim that the controversy will not affect the team one bit, but you know this is not true.  For example, instead of preparing all weekend for the upcoming NFL draft, CEO Joe Banner had to go to Dillard’s to shop for new underwear.  He reported blew out most of his pairs last week.  Coach Chud and Mike Lombardi also had a few “brown outs”.

The NFL is very concerned about the situation.  The owners don’t like it if you get a speeding ticket; an FBI raid is a major faux pas.  They are now extremely suspicious of a proposal that the Browns sent the league office a few weeks ago.  Reportedly the idea was to have opposing teams credit the Browns 15 points at the beginning of every game and then Cleveland would rebate the points back at the end of the game if needed.  Of course if the other team failed to ask for the rebate, lost their rebate form, or failed to fill out the form correctly and include the receipt, the Browns would keep the points.  If this rebate program was in place during the 2012 season and opponents failed to collect their rebates, the Browns would have finished 14-2.

We do now know why Haslam wanted to buy the Cleveland Browns and not another NFL team.  The Browns fans, customers of the team, are used to getting “jacked” and getting “screwed”.  We’ve been jacked and screwed so much, we hardly even mind anymore.

How much trouble are Browns fans in this time?  We will know that things are extremely messed up if we hear these words Thursday night:

“With the sixth pick in the NFL draft, the Cleveland Browns select Defense Attorney Marvin Kammish, Harvard Law School”.

Mel Kiper:  Wow, what a great choice, Kammish finished third in the class of 1993 and is great at blitzing the prosecution ….. 

A Tribute To Tim Richardson

My brother-in-law Tim Richardson (age 47) passed away very unexpectedly on April 2.  The following are the series of my Facebook postings surrounding the event.  I know they don’t belong on a humor blog, but I need to record this for posterity and this is the only place I have to post it.  You may consider this Ake’s pain, so in an odd way it almost fits.

The News (April 2, 2013)

"The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blind side you at 4 PM on some idle Tuesday." Today (a Tuesday) at around 3 p.m. my wife called to tell me that her youngest brother, Tim Richardson, had unexpectedly passed away. It would be difficult to know a finer person or to have a better brother-in-law. Heavy grieving.

The Pain

I apologize to my family for not being able to offer any comments of support or condolences at this time. I hurt, I just hurt, so incredibly bad .....

The Tributes

Tim on a recent missions trip

#1 - Tribute to my brother-in-law Tim Richardson who passed away Tuesday: Last year Tim and I served as pallbearers at his father’s military funeral. There are strict rules on handling the casket and they asked for two volunteers from the pallbearers to assist with the closing of the casket. I immediately volunteered. I really did not want anything to do with closing anyone’s casket, but I didn’t want Tim to have to go through that with his own father. I was relieved when someone behind me immediately raised their hand also. That was until I turned around and saw the other volunteer was Tim. I pulled him aside and strongly protested. “You do not have to do this. You should not have to do this”, I said sternly. “It’s okay, I want to do this”, he said calmly. That ended the argument because I was totally speechless. He wanted to do that? Who wants to do that? I don’t want to do that for a stranger, let alone a parent. Yet Tim saw that as a responsibility and actually wanted to fulfill it.

#2 - A Tribute to my brother-in-law Tim Richardson who passed away April 2: In February 2012 the family was jammed into a crowded hospital waiting room because my father-in-law was critically ill. A person carrying food to another family spilled half a cup of ice on the floor. Most of the ice fell harmlessly on the carpet, but a couple pieces fell on the tile walkway where we were gathered, thereby creating a safety hazard. I was seated against the wall and the ice was close to where Tim was standing.

I pointed to the ice and told Tim to kick the cubes back onto the carpet. Instead of doing that, Tim picked up the ice on the tile and then proceeded to pick up every other piece of ice on the carpet and throw them in the trash. Once again I was just amazed by this act. Unbelievably, the other family was offended that he had cleaned up their mess!

Some people never seem to do what is required in life. I guess I try to get by doing just what is required. Tim was exceptional because he tried to do more than what was required, even when under stress in a hospital waiting room.

#3 – A tribute to Tim Richardson, my brother-in-law, who passed away April 2: Two years ago I adopted a new philosophy: I want to live my life in such a way that people cry at my funeral. Easy to say, hard to do. Some days I do accomplish this, most days I fail. 

 I never thought about what the scene might look like if a person was actually able to live a life that cherished. But now I know, because last Friday night I sat by myself in the corner of a funeral home and watched intently as the line of mourners moved past the casket. I have never been in the presence of so much sorrow ever before. And there is a difference between sorrow and sadness. Sadness is a surface emotion. Sadness is expressed because the person is deceased. Sorrow is a deep emotion and expressed because the person is no longer here. We are now missing something beloved, someone that we will never have again in this realm.

And sitting in the midst of this sorrow, I began to absorb it, to breathe it in. And the human body can only hold so much sorrow at one time, so at some point I had to escape the melancholy and retreat outside. And there at the edge of the parking lot, the sorrow absorbed in the previous 80 minutes poured out of me. This was a life well lived, very well lived, indeed.

#4 (and final) Tribute to my friend (and brother-in-law) Tim Richardson who passed away April 2: On February 11, my wife’s family met for dinner at a Fairlawn restaurant to commemorate some occasion that I can’t even recall. I do remember that I wasn’t really looking forward to the event since it was on a Monday night and we would have to rush to get there and then get home late.

At the table, Tim was seated to my immediate right. Looking back, this wasn’t unusual. At most family events, Tim and I usually hung out together. This wasn’t by any conscience choice. I just liked being around him because he was such a great guy. He wasn’t just my brother-in-law, he was my friend. And I know that type of relationship does not exist in every family. I am extremely fortunate to have married into a tremendous family and Tim was a big part of that.

I never really thought about the friendship part of the relationship. Tim was just a great brother-in-law. We never argued and I can’t remember having any conflicts with him in the 35 years that I knew him.

The February dinner was great. Everyone had a good time and we laughed boisterously trying to decide what each person should order from the restaurant’s extensive menu. At the end of the meal, I said goodbye to Tim as I had done hundreds of times before. Only this time it wasn’t just goodbye, it turned out it was, GOODBYE. It’s now time not to be so concerned about the inconvenience of rushing to get to places or getting home late.

The Reflection

In December I was able to do two unexpected (and unrequired) acts of generosity for my brother-in-law Tim. At the time I considered them relatively small and insignificant. Upon his untimely passing this Tuesday, I realize that I was able to provide two blessings to him in what turned out to be the last few months of his life. Now these acts to me seem magnanimous, they are almost immeasurable. How is it that my perspective on this was so far off? What “small” acts did I have the chance to do today for other people that I did not do? What opportunities will I have

tomorrow?

Visit the Paint Store If You Desire 50 Shades of Grey

You would think by now I would be an expert in communicating with women, but recently I have had several strange conversations that ended with ladies becoming upset and disappointed. For example:

- I called my insurance agent Tina because she had made several errors on a recent quote.

“I’m very sorry about the mistakes I made”, she said.  “I’ve been a very bad agent.  Would you like to spank me?”

“Now, now, everyone makes mistakes, I said.  Just send me a corrected quote and we’ll be good.”

“Fine”, she said curtly. “I just send you a new quote then.”

- I was at my doctor’s office getting my blood pressure checked when the nurse said:

“I really enjoyed cuffing you.  I think it would be great if you cuffed me.  I’m sure it would raise your blood pressure.”

Of course I declined the offer.  She’s the medical professional.  I don’t see any benefit of me taking her blood pressure!  And shouldn’t she be trying to lower my blood pressure?

- I told a vendor that I couldn’t meet with her on Tuesday because I    was tied up in a meeting.

“Ooh, I just loved to be tied up”, she said. “Would you like to meet   some evening?”

I told her that my schedule wasn’t that tight and we could meet at my office Thursday morning.  She seemed much less thrilled with this idea.

- At lunch one day I ordered the whipped potatoes.  The waitress said:

 

“I just love to get whipped. What do you think?”

I told her that she should just get some potatoes to go when her shift was over and enjoy them at home.

The sexiest potatoes ever!

- I was having this lunch with my friend Cherise, when we finished eating she said:

“I want you to force me to do something I don’t want to do”

I thought quickly and replied, “Okay, you can pay for lunch.  My food costs almost twice as much as yours, so I am really sticking it to you!  And you’re responsible for the tip also.”

Cherise got real upset at the idea, so I guess she really didn’t want to do this!

- My co-worker Gail said that she wanted to be disciplined and asked me if I wanted to help.

“Sure”, I replied. “We all need more structure at the office.  You can start by making a “To Do” list every morning.”
 

- I was returning books at the library when the librarian said:

“Would you like it if I got very kinky?”

“Your hair looks very nice straight, but if you wanted to make it curly, give it a try”, I said.

- The perky clerk at Starbucks took my order and then asked:

“I want to get into S&M. Can you help me?”

I told her that sales and marketing would be a good field for her to consider and that I would let her know if I heard of any openings.  She looked very disappointed at my reply.

         

I told my friend Roger about all these weird conversations and he said that it all has to do with something called Fifty Shades of Grey.  Now this is just about the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard of.  When I worked at a paint store we had over 50 shades of off-white because people were very particular about getting just the right one to match their décor.  But grey? All you really need are three shades of grey: light, medium or dark.  One of those usually does the trick.

Which shade of grey turns you on?

So ladies if you are stimulated by the thought of fifty shades of grey, just go to your local paint store and tell the guy there what you really need.  Be sure to be very explicit in your description because some guys are so dense they don’t understand what a woman is really telling them.  I’m sure the man at the paint store will be happy to satisfy any special desire you may have.

I Am Pit Bull - So Don’t Stop My Party

A couple of my friends dealt with mid-life crises by buying very expensive, red, convertibles.  I am going through my own mid-life crisis but it could take me a long time just to get into one of those sports cars and you can forget about the thrill of the wind blowing through my hair.  So I dealt with my situation in a much more rational and mature way: I decided to prove to the world that I’ve still “got it”, by trying to be like the rapper Pit Bull.

Pit Bull is that cool guy with the shaved head in those beer commercials who apparently is very concerned about curfews because he keeps shouting “Don’t stop the party”.  He is very popular because when he raps he gets so into it the he gyrates as if he is having a seizure.  People love this, but if he ever does have a seizure during a concert, he is toast because everyone will keep partying instead of calling 911.

Pit Bull’s other trademark is his super-stylish sunglasses which he wears all the time.  Since I already am sporting the shaved head, it was time to visit the yuppie sunglasses store at the mall.  I showed the babelicious saleswoman Katie a photo of Pit Bull with shades and she found three pairs that were “bull worthy”.   I found the one I liked the best and looked in the mirror.  I was wearing my black leather jacket and the effect was stunning.

“I look bad-ass”, I exclaimed.

“You do look bad-ass.  You look very bad-ass”, said Katie

Of course when a hot chick tells a guy my age that he looks “bad-ass”, you know that I really have to have those sunglasses.

There was only one more detail.  It is very important that a guy’s sunglasses enable him to stare at women’s boobs undetected.

“Can you tell that I am staring at your boobs?" I asked Katie.

Katie looked carefully and said, “I can see your eyes, but I can’t tell where they are focused”.

She then proceeded to pose from various distances and angles while I admired her body (really happened.)

When I pointed out to Katie that I had just convinced a smoking hot woman to let me stare at her in various positions, she blushed big time.  I immediately apologized; worried that I had crossed the line.

"That’s perfectly fine", Katie cooed.  “In fact that sounded like something Pit Bull would say.  I think those glasses are working for you.  You have a much more confident attitude.”

At this, I immediately removed the glasses because I was afraid that Katie was going to embrace me right there in the store. The total came to $234.75, which is probably more than I have paid for all the sunglasses I have ever owned in my life.

Now some of you might be thinking that this is too much money to pay for a pair of sunglasses when there are so many starving children in Africa.  I say the sunglasses are cheap compared to paying $50,000 for a sports car and of course I am writing a check for $49,765.25 to the Donation Opportunity Now African Kids Enrichment fund.

I decided I had to wear the sunglasses all the time (including inside) because I paid so much for them and of course because this is what Pit Bull does.  However this did cause me some unexpected problems.   First of all, I was tripping over everything at work because it was too dark.  Then during a big meeting, an executive suddenly barked out, “Ake, take off those sunglasses. What are you doing, daydreaming behind those things?”  Of course I wasn’t daydreaming!  What type of lackey does he think I am?  I was just staring at the boobs of the woman sitting across the table.

Pit Bull

Then one day I was talking to my friend Sally in the grocery store. She was telling me about her weekend plans when she stopped suddenly and questioned, “Are you starring at my boobs?”

A gentlemen will never admit this (although I doubt very much if women mind when Pit Bull stares at their boobs) so I said: “No, of course not. Why do you ask?”

Mr. Bull****

Because you are wearing sunglasses and I am wearing a $100 push up bra!  You should be staring at my boobs!

The other bad thing about wearing sunglasses is that it impairs your peripheral vision which means I never saw the bitch slap coming.  It stung really bad and there was ringing in my ears for a couple days, but most importantly, the sunglasses were not damaged.

After that incident, I am no longer wearing my sunglasses indoors, or at night, for that matter.  I can’t wait for summer to get here so I can truly transform into Pit Bull.  I hope people start calling me Mr. Bull, of course people often refer to me as Mr. Bull-something already.