Bye Coastal Point. Hello Vegas!


Well, this is probably my last column at the Coastal Point.

It’s been a blast up to this point — having a forum to talk about some of the great things local people have done in the community, pontificate on some of the world’s ails and fire shot after shot at the money-grabbing, land-ruining decisions often made by our county council members. But it’s come to that time when I need to take on new challenges and see what else the world has to offer me, while I’m still moderately young.

See, I’m fairly certain I’ve hit the Power Ball by now.

As of Wednesday morning, when I sat down to write this piece, the Power Ball was worth $245 million, with a cash option of $114.7 million. Long odds, certainly, but I have karma on my side. Let me explain.

As is the case in many offices, we have a group of employees, even here at the working paradise that is the Coastal Point, who would chew off their right arms for the opportunity to quit working here tomorrow. As the Power Ball jackpot has grown, a glimmer of hope has sparked in their collective eyes as the possibility of employee escape became somewhat legitimate.

They began collecting money to buy group tickets. You know, the whole “strength in numbers” deal, where they buy as many tickets as possible for the least amount of money out of their pockets. I typically stay out of these group purchases because of my little problem of looking at everything mathematically. Lotteries don’t go broke, I reasoned. There’s a reason they give out so much money — they bring so much more in from people who think they’re going to win.

But I succumbed to the peer pressure. I threw in my $4 to be one of the group, and decided internally that I just threw away four perfectly good dollars that did nothing wrong except for living in my wallet for a short time.

And that’s when karma knocked on my door.

See, I discovered later that Shaun Lambert did not get into the pool. I love Shaun. He’s one of my best friends in the world — I served as his best man, for God’s sake, and him and I have worked at a few papers together over the years. But Shaun’s not exactly the most lucky guy in the world.

So, with Shaun not in this pool, I decided that it would be status quo for the rest of the office to hit this thing while he’s not involved. Do I feel bad about it? You bet.

But it’s nothing a few million dollars won’t erase.

Like most of you, I allowed myself to daydream what I’d do with all that loot. You know, that luxury yacht, the big house in Vegas, the sports league I’d start that would feature scantily clad women and trained monkeys throwing electrically-charged wet hot dogs at Michael Vick as he ...

But I digress.

First off, I’d throw a few million Shaun’s way. Hey, it was him sitting this one out that guaranteed our victory, so he has a little something coming his way. Besides, he’ll just lose it to me on a poker table in Atlantic City eventually, anyway.

My next move, obviously, would be to eliminate as many bills in my life as possible. Goodbye, mortgage! See ya’, car payment! Hasta la vista, male enhancement bills!

Man, did I actually put that last one down in writing?

Bills handled, I’d move on to real estate. Little house in Killarney, Ireland, that home in Vegas and a little island hideaway would be the initial purchases — followed by the elimination of mortgage bills for a bunch of people close to me.

As for charity ... well, I mentioned Shaun, right? Fine, I’d toss a few hundred thousand each to the Senior League Softball World Series, the Quiet Resorts Charitable Foundation, the Lower Delaware Austism Foundation, all the local fire houses, Justin’s Beach House and numerous other local charitable campaigns. Sorry, Bertram. I’m not falling for the Bob Bertram Foundation of Hope. You hoping that you’d have enough money to buy Mount Shasta is just not going to make the cut.

Even with all this money out of pocket, I’d still have quite a bit left over to make all the improvements I need on my home, boost my poker bankroll considerably and live without financial concerns once my accountant gets hold of the rest of it.

Yes, life is pretty good for this guy right about now.

Then the news hit. Our goodie goodie office manager, Beth Long, decided that she’d enter Shaun into the pool. My hopes were dashed. There was no way we’d win it now. What to do?

I guess I better start worrying about next week’s column.