If things work out as planned, this could be my last column

Jim Fall

If the proceedings of the next three to five days go according to the way I currently envision them — and there is no David Baldacci undercurrent going on in the background without my knowledge, — this could very well be my last column for the Maryville Daily Forum.

Heck, if my plans come to fruition, this could be the “adios, amigos” of my entire newspaper career — an event I know many of you out there would probably see as reason to celebrate.

I have always been pretty much of a straight-laced, law-abiding, take-no-chances sort of a guy, but in the last week or so, my approach to life has taken a whole new direction.

I have definitely experienced a change of somewhat dramatic proportions.

In case you are wondering, I am not about to disavow my being an Elvis fan in any way whatsoever — although I think if he is still alive, it is time from him to come on out of hiding and treat his contemporaries who are still around to at least one more live concert, or maybe two.

He’s still the man, no doubt about that.

Nope, what I have cooking might be even bigger than one Mr. Elvis Aaron Presley, who, incidentally, celebrated his 81st birthday last Friday.

You see, I am looking to get clear out of my own personal comfort zone and do something really wild and crazy.

For me, at least.

No, I’m not going to go sky diving, or mountain climbing, or even try to ride a bull named Fu Man Chu, but for me, it is just about that far out of synch.

I will admit to having re-started making a trip or two or three a week to the Maryville Community Center recently in an effort to re-gain at least a little of whatever physical fitness I ever had.

That, however, has every indication of being a long-term project, a very long-term project if you must know, and what I’m talking about here is much more of an instant gratification thing — in keeping with today’s way of doing things, you know.

What am I up to?

Simple.

Elementary, my dear Watson, elementary.

I plan to win the Powerball jackpot Wednesday night.

Yep. I do.

All damn $1.3 billion of it.

The first lottery ticket I ever bought was something of the “state” variety when we visited Glacier Park many years ago. One day, we had made a foray into Canada for lunch at the Prince of Wales Hotel — so we could say we had been to Canada as much as anything —and played their lottery.

We left our tickets, and telephone number with the waitress — so she could call us when we won — but we never heard from her.

Surprise.

Then, when we moved to Montana, where there is a casino on about every corner (well, not exactly; but there are lots of them, that’s for sure), I thought we would “play the numbers all the time,” but that didn’t really pan out either.

If memory serves, we might have bought a couple of tickets once or twice when the money got up there — to a few hundred million dollars — but certainly not regularly.

I think it was just before I moved back to Maryville that I read Baldacci’s “The Winner,” a thriller about some Southern trailer trash gal who got in the middle of a scheme to rig a Powerball kind of national lottery and walked with $100 million, free and clear.

Certainly, if you’ve ever read a Baldacci novel, you know she didn’t walk without some extenuating circumstances, but I don’t want to spoil a potential good read for anybody, so I’ll leave it at that.

I practiced Powerballing last Wednesday by giving Phillip’s wife, Chaundee, two bucks to buy a ticket at Hy-Vee. I was very original in picking my own numbers, selecting a combination of my birthday and when I graduated from Missouri. You know, silly stuff like that.

Since then, I have done a little more reading, and I am convinced I am now a much more sophisticated player.

Let the machine pick the numbers — the odds are all the same.

Something like 292,201,338-to-1, to be exact.

That’s the number permutations and combinations say are available when the 69 white balls and 26 red ones roll.

From the reports I read about Saturday night’s drawing, some 75 percent of the combinations were taken, but nobody really cashed in.

There were, however, 25 players in the 44 participating states who collected $1 million, and three others who won a $2 million prize for coming close.

You know, like kids’ participation ribbons nowadays.

How do I plan to win?

I am going to take the advice of the “experts” and let the machine pick my entry numbers. Material I have read says the most frequently drawn random numbers — if that makes any sense — are 8, 13, 14, 39 and 54.

Gary Grief, executive director of the Texas Lottery, which runs the whole delusionary scheme, cited the No. 13 red ball as one of the main reasons he thought no one won last Saturday’s drawing.

Forget anniversaries, grandchildren’s birthdays (as if I can remember them anyway), “lucky numbers,” and all that sort of thing, the best advice is to just pay your $2 idiot tax and take your chances on what the computer spits out at you.

And for enough cash — even after paying my Uncle Sam, who made it all possible in this great country of ours — to buy the Kansas City Royals, I think I can risk $2 one more time.

Shoot, I bet that much on a “sure thing” horse in Hot Springs one time, and the jockey fell off before they got out of the gate.

If the Walmart folks don’t want to sell the Royals, you can bet we”ll for sure have one hell of a lodge and conference center at Mozingo Lake Recreation Park, and a couple of well endowed journalism schools to boot.And I might even change my mind and decide to cross an Alaska visit off my bucket list after all.

This is, however, all I will say about it for now, because the “experts” also say it’s best to remain anonymous, if possible.

I think I already know most all of my relatives, but I’m pretty sure there will be others after I win.

So, mum’s the word.