This week there will be a Powerball drawing worth over 400 million dollars. Let me put this another way. If you win Powerball this week, you will win one million dollars four hundred times. That's four hundred life-changing experiences. It actually only takes one life-changing experience to change your life. The other 399 life-changing experiences are just gravy!
I'm pretty sure that I will be the only Powerball winner this week. Not that I want to discourage any of you from playing. After all, if we can goose the jackpot up to 450 million, who am I to complain?
In the interest of full disclosure, I have to say that I have felt quite confident about winning huge jackpots before. Last week, for example, when the jackpot was a measly 200 million, I was just as certain I would win. I even went down to Destin's famous Legendary Marina to check out some of the huge vessels for sale. I was so confident, I came this close to putting down a deposit on a gorgeous, lavishly-equipped 40-footer. Then I remembered I hate boats, so I didn't.
And it's a good thing because my five combinations of numbers contained exactly two of the winning ones. Boy, talk about misplaced confidence. That was worse than the time I entered a cribbage tournament after having defeated five-year-old Matthew for the thousandth consecutive time. I was triple-skunked and eliminated almost immediately. I should have known better. At age five Matthew had no idea what 15 was, so he was relatively easy to beat. Mostly he liked to play with the pegs.
Be that as it may, I thought you might like to know what I intend to do with my 400 million.
First thing I'll do is hand over about 200 million to our government. I won't even ask what they're going to do with it. Call it a block grant.
Then I'll do all the obvious things that everybody else would do. You know, stuff like helping out my kids and grandkids, helping out my friends and relatives, helping out some charities and hospitals, and buying a new pair of Bass loafers. I won't even wait for a sale at the Destin Outlet mall. I'll just march right up there wearing my old pair of scuffed up Bass loafers and tell the overly friendly clerk, "Yes, by golly, you MAY help me. Get me a nice pair of brown loafers, size 9W, and damn the expense. And here's $10,000 for your trouble."
After I'd taken care of these basics, I assume there would still be quite a bit left over. This would become what I would call "The Joel Fund." I would use this money to satisfy any urge I might ever have, no matter how irrational or impractical. I would dedicate myself to the fine art of self-gratification, but not in a bad way. (I make a little joke.)
For example, I love jazz; however, not many other people do so there just aren't that many good jazz clubs around any more. There are a lot of fake jazz clubs but the real thing is hard to find. So one of the first "Joel Fund" things I would do is establish a number of jazz clubs all over the country and hire people like Joshua Redman, Christian McBride, Bill Charlap, Kenny Barron, Joe Lovano, Pat Metheny, Gary Burton, Wynton Marsalis, Wayne Shorter, and, may he live a thousand years, Sonny Rollins to play at my clubs whenever I'm in town. The clubs would all be non-smoking but I'd have fake smoke piped in for atmosphere. There would be a $20 cover charge to keep out the riffraff, and anyone in the audience who called out a tune would be poked with one of those little drink umbrellas. During the "down" times, the clubs would be used as free practice studios to encourage and assist the next Miles Davis, Kurt Elling, Diana Krall, Jobim, or Toots Thielemans.
I would buy PBS. I would change the name to JBS but every single program would stay exactly as it is, even the goofy food ones. I wouldn't change a blessed thing except hire a new Elmo. I wouldn't need any government funding so the Republicans could go pound sand. They don't have to watch if they don't want to, but JBS will be there when you want it. The only influence I would exert is telling Rick Steves where to go, if you know what I mean.
I will buy the National Hockey League and give the players exactly what they want. I won't change the name because Joel's Hockey League sounds pretentious. I'll stay out of the day to day decisions. Maybe I'll make a decision once a month or so, mostly dealing with throwback jerseys. When I win Powerball, there will be hockey. Oh, I almost forgot, a beer would cost $3.00. But if you get obnoxious, you have to put on a jersey, get out on the ice, and deal with Milan Lucic. That should keep the rowdiness to a minimum.
Finally, I would buy the following restaurants: The Beijing House in Norwell, MA, Regina's Pizzeria of Boston's North End, and Kelly's Landing of N. Weymouth, MA. I'd hire the current staffs for life, reduce the current prices by 30% and make sure they are always open.
OMG those pan-fried dumplings!
Ain't life grand?
J
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