Get ready, cats and kittens. This post is gonna knock your socks off - if, of course, you're wearing socks, which I always always do.
* Got a lot of comments and a fair helping of flak for my last post. Yes: of course I spoke in generalities but it is absolutely true that many, many chicks like or want men to treat them relatively poorly. Someone made the point that what they really like is confidence, and that's absolutely true. But I wonder if you can fake that; if you're not a confident cat, can you muster up enough of it to impress a lady?
But mostly what I gleaned from the post is that men agree with me, and women don't. And I suppose I should have expected that. Women are probably a little embarrassed at the raw truth of that statement but men have first-hand experience that it's true. Sure, you can be nice, or pretend to do so, and still get it wet, but with all due respect to my women readers, all friggin three of them, one of whom likes girls exclusively, it's still true. Chicks dig jerks.
* Lots of heat about the lottery this week. I'm conflicted, and I'll tell you why: the jackpot is what, 450 million? And the odds of winning are 1 in 175 million, so if you look at it like a poker player, buying a stake in it is the right odds play, even if there are two winners.
However the other side of that is, the odds of you winning are, out to nine significant digits, the exact same whether or not you play; that is, zero. So you could make the argument that even though it's an odds play, you're throwing your money down the toilet.
So I don't know what to do. Something inside me is telling me to buy a couple tickets; except 3/4 of my own brain would ridicule me mercilessly for doing so.
And btw: if I win, there might be a big party in Vegas in the future, but it won't happen right away. If I win, the very first thing I do, and I mean the VERY FIRST THING I DO, is go underground. Hire a lawyer and an accountant, swear them to secrecy, and have them handle things. Me and Toots are hiding, going undercover. Because as sure as shit stinks, there will be an endless parade of distant relations, phony well-wishers, and general moochers with their hands out, and I don't need any of that nonsense.
I would take the lump sum post-tax. A good rule of thumb for figuring out what the lump sum number is, is take the dollar amount, take 60% of that, and then 70% of THAT. So if the number is 475 million, the lump sum payout would be around 200 mill. AFTER TAXES. With that money I would not buy a mansion high on a hill; I'd buy a reasonably-sized house, everywhere in the world. A house on a canal in Amsterdam; penthouse apartments in Boston, New York, Vegas, and LA; and at least one of them would overlook an ocean. Probably not the one in Vegas.
I would live well but not extremely lavishly, and I would not grease family and friends that much. I'd give members of my family enough money to pay off their mortgage, set up trust funds by which certain people would get checks every month, and that's about it. Fuck everyone else.
Most of my money would stay in the bank, being invested. If I can get 4% on my money, that's annual revenue of about 8 million a year, so ideally the money would never run out.
*The Bruins start the playoffs soon; hosanna in the highest. Here's hoping we get another deep run; those goddamn tickets fetch big buxx on the market.
*My next post is either going to be about my experiences at umpire school, or about the first woman to ever break my heart because she was a lying, manipulative doucheface whore, who didn't mind it when I had four fingers inside her but wouldn't talk to me in school because of Breakfast Club class issues. I'll let you guys make the decision.
* Finally, tomorrow, instead of going to Foxwoods tomorrow and meeting up with the Cranky one, I have instead been roped into going to a Farmer's Market with Toots, for which I'll have to wake up early. WTF, man. A fucking Farmer's Market? I'm seriously buying produce instead of chips? Sometimes I hate being married.
Well, I guess that's about it for the Weekend post. If I'm feeling frisky I might do a Beatles post Sunday or so, if I have the energy.
Until then, then.