It could be me...

Not an enormous amount to write about this week, but I figure I'd better get another editorial up there, before any more Southern customers stumble across the last one. :-) It has to be said, they were actually very nice, but I'm still a little nervous about the strange crossover between the bead-buying public and visitors to this site - which will probably only increase next week when we finally launch...ooh, in red, I think...www.trashcity.org. It's up and running already, actually - feel free to visit. Next week, tumbleweeds will roll across this site, save for an automatic redirection until my Demon subscription runs out. Whenever that is.

Rather large lottery jackpot here this week: a mere $295 million, the result of multiple rollovers (it's harder to hit the jackpot here since, while you still have to pick six numbers, you have to nominate one as the Powerball) and some seriously frantic buying in the past week. Only 20 states take part, so those living elsewhere have to badger relatives or drive over the border to their nearest convenient location. It puts things into perspective, however, that if you drive ten miles to buy a ticket, you are sixteen times more likely to die on the trip than to win the jackpot.

You don't actually get $295 million either: if you want a lump sum, you'd receive about half that, otherwise the jackpot is paid over 25 years (a bit of a con given that inflation would be steadily chewing into it), and in both cases, you have to pay tax on your winnings. Still, even in a worst case scenario, that's a tasty chunk of change, maybe $60-70 million and it's difficult enough to get your mind round that sort of money.

With an unerring knack, the people who win always seem to be thoroughly undeserving - the elderly (who inevitably dole it out among their equally undeserving children), or even a convicted armed robber in this case, though on the plus side, I guess the chances of him reoffending have probably all but evaporated. The worst kind are those who say, "It won't change me. I'm still going to keep on working." What is that nonsense? Of course it'll change you, and the first thing I would do would be to replace the entire Trash City site (business division) with a "CLOSED FOREVER" logo. Anyone who wants to keep on working when they no longer need to, is showing a total lack of imagination.

I firmly look forward to the day when we can kick back and let our children take care of us. To this end, Emily was auditioned by a model agency (that's basically a pimp with a receptionist) a couple of days ago. Sitting in the foyer, watching all the beautiful, high-cheekbones, totally vacuous people drifting in and out, I couldn't help wishing I hadn't succumbed to the heady delights of the Mexican dessert known as Xango - prononunced 'Django', and about as deadly. I comforted myself with the fact that I was not on heroin. Anyway, Emily now moves on to the second stage, where she has to go to classes to learn all the essential skills necessary for being a model/actress/whatever. Whether bulimia is part of the course, only time will tell.

And with that, it's off to double update, to Demon and trashcity.org. Thanks to Demon for a largely painless service, and here's to Trash City, the next generation!


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