Category Archives: real stories

How Small Compliments Can Make Someone’s Day

I get that we live in a strange, messed up world. You don’t need to look hard to find a news story that will significantly undermine whatever faith in humanity you might possess. And outside the news, you’re likely to encounter certain frustrations and inconveniences that make you want to pull your hair out and shout every profanity you know.

At the same time, there are just as many things that can genuinely make your day and put a smile on your face. They can be big or small. Be it news that a loved one expecting their first child to that sweet feeling you get when you sip your morning coffee, these good things can significantly outweigh whatever bad you encounter over the course of a day.

Even if you struggle to find those experiences, it’s not difficult to help someone else enjoy those experiences. In some cases, it doesn’t even cost you anything. It can be as simple as giving someone a genuine, unprompted compliment. It may not be much, but it may very well be enough to make someone’s day, if not their whole week.

I know this because recently, I received a compliment from a close relative that stuck with me and made what had been a rough week a whole lot better. It was admittedly minor. We were all just sitting at the dinner table during a family gathering, talking amongst ourselves.

At one point, I rest my arms on the table after we finished eating. And that’s when this relative, with no real prompt or incentive, complimented how much muscle I’d gained on my arms lately. It actually took me off-guard for a moment. While it’s true I do go to the gym regularly and most of my relatives know that, I rarely get comments on how it shows, be it my health or my appearance.

Also, I rarely get comments on my appearance, in general. Some of that is my fault. I did not take care of myself for a good chunk of my life. It wasn’t until my late 20s that I started working out. And I was well into my 30s by the time I got into a good enough routine and diet to see real results. Even then, very few people said much about how I looked. And if I did get compliments, it was usually in a context that didn’t make them resonate too much.

But this one did. This one wasn’t just from someone who knew me well, even before I started working out. This came from someone who just noticed and went out of their way to make a kind remark. And having not gotten many such remarks regarding my appearance for most of my life, it really stuck with me.

I suspect many others with self-esteem or other personal issues would feel the same way. Getting compliments of any kind when you don’t get them regularly can mean a lot. It can be the difference between having a bad day and having a great day. It can also be something that inspires you to keep doing what you’re doing, especially if you weren’t sure if it was working.

It may still be tempting to second guess someone’s motives for giving you a compliment. People can become jaded and cynical for any number of reasons. Getting out of that mentality can be an arduous process that will take much more than a few unprompted compliments.

But even among the most misanthropic people, a few kind words can do a lot for someone on multiple levels. Whether they come from friends, family, or total strangers, they can have an impact. And it’s often positive. In a world where it’s so much easier to notice awful things, giving or receiving a compliment can mean so much to someone.

So, if you can, find an opportunity to give someone a compliment. You don’t know just how much someone needs it or how much good it will do them in the long run.

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The Uncomfortable (But Relevant) Truth About The OJ Simpson Trial

This is a video from my YouTube channel, Jack’s World.

In this video, I recount and discuss the famous/infamous trial of OJ Simpson. If you’re around my age, you remember how impactful this was. And to this day, we’re still grappling with the events surrounding this trial.

But now that OJ Simpson himself has passed away, the time is right to confront the many comfortable truths this trial revealed. Enjoy!

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Why I Live Alone, But Don’t Feel Lonely

Loneliness is an awful, solemn feeling. Nobody denies that.

We’ve all probably had points in our lives when we’ve felt utterly alone, literally and figuratively. I know I have. There have been times when I’ve just laid in bed at night, staring up at the ceiling, and feeling like I’m in this dark prison cell that I can never escape. I don’t care who you are or how tough you think you are. That feeling hurts on a fundamental level.

Human beings are social creatures. That’s not an opinion. That’s a tangible, fundamental aspect of our species. No matter how much of a rugged individualist you think you are, we still need some level of social interaction to maintain our mental well-being. It doesn’t have to be overly elaborate. It just has to be there.

I make this point because there has been increasing talk of a loneliness epidemic. And it’s something that the COVID-19 pandemic did plenty to intensify. I know I felt it at times. I’m sure others felt it far worse than me. And even though the worst of the pandemic is behind us, those lingering feelings of loneliness are still there.

Now, I don’t claim to be an expert. I also won’t try to offer some contrived bullshit solution that a life coach might charge someone for. That’s not my style. All I can do is share my own experience and how I’ve dealt with loneliness in the past.

Because years ago, especially when I was out of college and starting off on my own, I felt pretty damn lonely. In college, I was surrounded by people my age. And even though I had awful social skills, poor self-image, and lingering personal problems that started in high school, I took some comfort in knowing I was surrounded by others like me. Even if I didn’t interact with them as much as I wish I had, I felt like we were all sharing the same struggles that came with going to class, studying for exams, and budgeting our limited money.

Then, I graduated and got out into the real world. Suddenly, I was in an environment where I was expected to fend for myself. Even though I had a wonderful family who supported me every step of the way, it was overwhelming. I felt isolated and lonely, wondering if I was strong enough to handle all of this.

Keep in mind, I still lived with others at the time. Even after I moved out of my parents’ house, I went through a period in which I lived in shared houses and apartments with other people. Most were around my age. And for the most part, I got along with these people. At one point, I lived in this large suburban house with five other people who all met on Craigslist. It’s not quite as chaotic as it sounds, but I was rarely ever completely alone in that place.

But I still felt lonely. I still felt isolated, even though my parents were just a 20-minute drive away. Those were difficult times.

However, I did get through it. Things did get better.

Now, as I write this, I live alone. I have my own place and I have no roommates. I’m also single, at the moment. I was single throughout the COVID-19 pandemic, as well.

And yet, I don’t feel nearly as lonely as I did during those years when I lived in a shared home. I don’t even feel as lonely as I did in college, despite being on a large campus surrounded by people in a similar situation.

I know that sounds like a paradox, but it’s the truth. I can only do so much to explain why I feel this way. I’ll only say that loneliness is an easy feeling to fall into without much effort. And it takes a lot more effort to actually escape it.

By that, I don’t mean pushing yourself to go out, meet people, and make new friends just to feel less lonely. That’s a mistake I see a lot of people making, especially socially awkward people like I was for much of my early life. If your reason for making friends is to just be less lonely, then you’re not making friends for the right reasons. And if you’re trying to talk to people just to feel less lonely, that’s just as bad a reason. That essentially turns your social interactions into something selfish.

It’s not about actually wanting to meet peole and be their friends. It’s about you and making yourself feel better.

That’s not a healthy mentality. And I freely admit I had that mentality for a good chunk of my early 20s. Growing out of it took time, as well as a concerted effort. It also required efforts that went beyond just improving my inherently poor social skills.

I’ve noted before how hard it was for me to get into shape after having many unhealthy habits throughout my life. I didn’t start working out regularly until I was almost 30 and when I started, it took a while for me to really feel the benefits. And while it might not have been my primary goal, working on myself and trying to be healthier really helped me feel less lonely.

Beyond just improving my mental well-being and self-image, it made me much more comfortable in my own skin. I feel like it sent a message to myself that I care enough about myself to put in the effort to be better, even when it requires spending an hour at the gym or running through freezing weather in the middle of January. Once that message sank in, I felt more confident to connect with others for the right reasons.

At the same time, my general social skills and communication skills had improved to a point where I really felt the benefits. It showed in how I interacted with family and friends. It showed in how I interacted with total strangers, both in real life and online. And during the COVID-19 pandemic, I leaned on those new skills to help me feel connected with others.

Those connections didn’t have to be big or elaborate. One thing that really helped was scheduling regular Zoom calls with my siblings and parents. That ended up helping me make entirely new connections because I met a lot of my siblings’ friends that I usually don’t get to interact with. Later on, once the pandemic faded, I met up with them in real life and it was a great experience. It felt like a true mark of progress that I didn’t realize I was achieving.

And if I can achieve that kind of progress, then I’m confident everyone reading this can as well. Yes, there are still times when I feel lonely. But it’s a feeling that doesn’t hit nearly as hard as it once did. Even though I live alone at the moment, I never feel the same crippling isolation I used to feel years ago.

For that, I’m grateful to the friends I’ve made in that time.

And I’m even more grateful to my parents and family, who were there for me during those times.

I realize I’m very lucky in some regards. Not everyone can enjoy the opportunities I’ve had. But we’re all capable of confronting loneliness in our own unique way. And I sincerely hope that by sharing my experience, others can draw strength from it.

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Commemorating A Heroic Pizza Delivery Guy Who Worked During A Hurricane

As a lifelong fan of superhero comics and superhero media, in general, I like to think I appreciate heroes more than most. I understand what makes the characters I read about in comics heroes. I also understand what makes people in the real world heroes.

There are the doctors who work during crises and pandemics.

There are the firefighters, soldiers, police officers, and EMT’s who work during disasters.

There are the scientists and researchers working on treatments to deadly diseases.

Those people are all real-world heroes who we should celebrate every chance we get. Our society would not be where it is right now without them.

But sometimes, you don’t have to have the skills, qualifications, and degrees to be a hero on that level. It is still possible to be a hero on a smaller, more local level. To prove that point, I’d like to highlight an example of a hero who did something small for me and my family during a difficult time. But this seemingly minor act left a big impression.

Like most heroic acts, this occurred during a crisis. A historic hurricane was bearing down on my hometown. It wasn’t going to hit us directly, but it promised to be a once-in-a-century storm the likes of which my area had not experienced in a long time. This is an area where you can count all the hurricanes that hit us on one hand. This just happened to be a perfect storm of conditions that put us in its path.

Since some members of my family have experience dealing with hurricanes, we prepared as best we could. However, when the storm came, it not surprisingly knocked out power out for an extended period. That was a problem on many levels. But what compounded that problem is the food we’d originally prepared was not usable for reasons I don’t care to divulge.

So, that left us in a difficult position. We needed some food. But not a lot of restaurants were open. However, we did manage to call this one pizza place that somehow remained open. And much to our delight, they were willing to deliver two large pizza to us in this storm.

So, we placed our order. And the task of driving through this historic storm to deliver our food fell upon this college-aged guy who probably would’ve preferred to stay home that day. But, like all heroes, he stepped up when the time came. He did not hesitate in the face of such an arduous challenge. He drove his undersized Buick through high winds, heavy downpours, and booming thunder to make that delivery.

My family and I were even wondering if he would make it. If he didn’t, then I don’t think anyone of us would’ve blamed him.

But he showed up to make that delivery. He even showed up on time and under 30 minutes. This brave young man delivered two large pizzas to our house while we were without power, air conditioning, or entertainment of any kind. Needless to say, we thanked him profusely and tipped him generously. I still don’t doubt he would’ve preferred to not be working that day. But I’m glad he did.

Delivering pizzas may not seem inherently heroic. It’s a thankless job that most of us don’t think twice about anymore. But when someone steps up to deliver our food during a historic storm when so many others wouldn’t, that’s not just dedication to a job. That’s heroic, plain and simple.

So, to that brave pizza delivery guy who navigated a historic storm that day, on behalf of my family and all those who love pizza and hate hurricanes, I sincerely thank you. You are a true hero in my eyes.

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Sharing A Weird (But Funny) Dream Involving My Nephew

Dreams are strange, mysterious things. Many of us have them, regardless of age, culture, language, or circumstances. Science has tried studying them, but even decades of medical research hasn’t shed much insight into what they are or why they happen.

For most of us, they these strange experiences that we struggle to remember once we wake up. They may leave us confused, restless, or anxious. But whenever they happen, it feels like our brain is trying to tell us something and we’re struggling to listen.

Trying to navigate them or just being able to remember them can be a challenge. For a time, when I was in college, I actually tried to keep a dream journal. I honestly don’t know where it is. But I did find that keeping a journal did help me remember my dreams more vividly. They were still rarely clear. They also weren’t very logical or revealing. But I did find it helpful, at least in terms of exploring the experience.

Over the course of my life, certain dreams have stood out more than others. Some have been pleasant. Some have been not-so-pleasant. Others just don’t make any sense and weren’t worth remembering. But one in particular, which occurred just a couple years ago, still stands out to me. For some reason, I can remember this dream more clearly than most. And I wasn’t even keeping a journal at the time.

I’d still like to share it because, in addition to actually remembering it, I found it funny. On top of that, it involves one of my adorable nephews, which is probably why it stands out more than others. It happened when one of them was still an infant who couldn’t walk. But to this day, I often find myself thinking about that dream whenever I visit him to get in some quality Uncle Jack time.

The dream played out in a strange, surreal sequence, as many dreams do. I found myself lying on a floor with soft white rug. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but I did recognize where I was. It was a room in my sister and her husband’s house. Specifically, it was my nephew’s room. I’d been there before whenever I visited them with my parents. It’s where he kept his toys and took his naps.

But for reasons I don’t fully understand, I somehow fell asleep in this room while lying on the floor. To be honest, that does sound like something I might do. If I ever get tired and groggy, I’ll fall asleep in strange situations. But what made this stand out even more was that my infant nephew was right there with me.

However, he wasn’t sleeping. He was sitting up right next to me. He had this big marker in his hand, not unlike the ones I’d seen him draw with before. And he was using it to write something on my face. I distinctly remember feeling it. I also remember looking up at him, seeing that distinct look in his face he got whenever he drew, and surmising what he was doing.

At this point in the dream, my sister and her husband show up. I become a bit more alert, so I’m able to get up slightly. But when I see them, they’re both laughing hysterically. They’re laughing so hard they’re holding onto each other to keep from keeling over. Then, my nephew begins laughing too. And I can still feel the marker on my face.

As the laughter escalates, I become urgently curious. I try to get up and find a mirror to see what my nephew drew on my face. The bathroom in my sister’s house just happens to be across from his room. So, I rush in. But before I can see what he drew on my face, I woke up.

It was a somewhat jarring feeling, waking up from a dream like that. On this particular morning, I distinctly remember it being around 4:30 a.m. I also remember just sitting up in my bed, shaking my head, and laughing to myself as well. I was honestly still very curious. I really did want to know what my nephew drew on my face that had my sister and her husband laughing so hard. Sadly, I’ll probably never know.

But to this day, I still remember that dream fondly. I’ve included it in the many other fond memories I’ve forged with my nephew, as well as my nieces. I’ve said before how much I love being an uncle. Maybe this dream was my brain’s way of telling me how much I’d embraced that role and how important my nieces and nephews are to me.

If that’s the case, then that just makes this dream more precious.

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A Superyacht Caused A Devastating Forest Fire To Further Prove Billionaires Are Assholes

When it comes to being rich, there are only two types.

The first type is more traditional and common, relatively speaking. That type of rich largely covers people who can afford to live in nice houses within nice neighborhoods in well-maintained communities while not drowning in debt, be it from credit cards and student loans. These aren’t the kind of rich people who live in mansions and have butlers. These are just people who have comfortable, affluent lifestyles.

I don’t have a problem with rich people like this. I even know some of them. They’re generally decent people. And while some did inherit part of their wealth, they still had to work to some extent in order to maintain it. If they didn’t, then they wouldn’t remain rich for very long.

Then, there’s the second type of rich people. These people are rich in ways that most of us, including the first type of rich people I just mentioned, cannot begin to fathom. These are people with access to billions of dollars of wealth. I know people love to throw terms like millions and billions around interchangeably, but I don’t think those people realize just how much more a billion is than a million.

To illustrate, consider the following anecdote.

If you made approximately $50,000 a year, it would take you about 18 years in order to make $1 million. That’s a timeframe we can wrap our heads around. Most people work longer than 18 years in their adult lives.

But working at that same rate, it would take over 18,000 years to make $1 billion. That’s nearly three times longer than the history of human civilization. That is not a trivial difference.

And that difference is worth highlighting because only the second type of rich people can afford obscene displays of wealth like yachts. I also think it’s entirely appropriate to label these types of displays as obscene. Because yachts are not just boats.

They might as well be floating private islands that rich people use as extensions of their gawdy lifestyle. It’s not enough they can afford armies of butlers, nurses, nannys, personal chefs, and servants. They have to take that shit with them across the ocean. Just imagine feeling like you need that kind of pampering and luxury to begin with, let alone take it with you on an oversized boat.

It’s just one of the many reasons why I’ve come to believe that there’s no such thing as a “good” billionaire. But if you’re a billionaire who happens to own a yacht, then I’m just going to assume you’re an insufferable asshole until proven otherwise. Thus far, I haven’t been able to find reliable proof in that regard.

But all too often, I come across proof in the opposite direction that further affirms that these types of rich people really are assholes. The latest bit of proof comes courtesy of a misguided fireworks display organized by the crew of a superyacht that had been chartered by a group of rich people who don’t mind dropping $320,000 a week.

What’s the difference between a yacht and a superyacht? I don’t claim to know, but it’s safe to assume you have to be a special kind of greedy, self-centered asshole to think a regular yacht isn’t obscene enough.

But according to the Daily Beast, this particular superyacht tried to do a firework show off the Greek island of Hydra. While it might have looked pretty initially, it didn’t end well because it caused a massive forest fire on the island. Thankfully, no one was hurt in this fire, as far as we know. Even so, this is the kind of display that only the obscenely wealthy can pull off.

It’s not enough for people like this to live on a floating resort where they’re treated like royalty. They need a personal fireworks show to be entertained, even if it puts part of the natural world at risk. Even if you grand them the benefit of the doubt that this was entirely an accident and the people involved feel bad about it, remember this one detail.

These people won’t be the least bit inconvenienced.

It doesn’t matter that the mayor of the island is seeking compensation. Chances are he’ll run into an army overpaid lawyers who will either pay for this incident to go away or just plain intimidate the people on this island into submission. For most of the people paying these lawyers, the most they’ll have to do is make a phone call, sign some papers, and maybe even wire some money.

If anyone else mistakenly caused a forest fire that devastated an entire island, there would be consequences. This wouldn’t be something we could just ignore or bully our way out of. Then again, this isn’t something most of us are in a position to even do. We don’t own or use any yachts, let alone a superyacht.

We don’t know the names of the people who were on this superyacht when the fire erupted. Chances are we’ll never know, thanks to those aforementioned lawyers. But whoever they are, they’re still prime examples of why billionaires in general are assholes.

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Why Time Seems To Go Faster As You Get Older

When I was a kid, the school year always seemed to go on forever. I know it was nine months out of the year and that was a sizable chunk of any given year. But looking back on it, I swear every day felt longer, every week felt like a month, and every month felt like a year. Even as I got older, time seemed to drag and at times, it was agonizing.

These days, the flow of time feels different and not just because of the events of the COVID-19 pandemic. Granted, that did mess up everyone’s sense of time. But even before that, I noticed how the days, months, and years seem to go by differently. And the older I get, the more I feel it. I’m also not the only one.

A lot of friends and relatives I talk to will say the same thing. They swear that 2023 just started a few weeks ago. They remember the ball dropping on New Years Eve. They remember making New Years resolutions, capping off the holidays, and making plans for the new year.

The next thing they know, Halloween is over and the holidays are just around the corner. You start to wonder where the hell the rest of the year went. You wonder why and how it went by so quickly. I’ve certainly wondered that from time to time. But since the end of the pandemic, I feel like my perspectives on how the years go by has struck a unique balance.

And I count that as an accomplishment because for a good chunk of my youth, that balance was lacking and not just because of how much I struggled in high school. College was eventful, but it felt like it ended too quickly for me because I was often anxious about what I would do when I got out. Even when I started working and exploring new creative outlets, I didn’t have much certainty with respect to how I would build a life for myself.

That took a while to figure out. I also made a few mistakes along the way, as most people do when they’re young and uncertain. But once I created a more stable life for myself, finding some decent jobs and moving into my own place, that’s when I really noticed my perceptions of time change.

Unlike being in school, my life was a lot less structured and regimented. There was less obsession over navigating classes, classmates, and assignments and more focus on just getting better at whatever job I happened to have. For someone like me, I tend to thrive more when things are streamlined and I know what I need to do over the course of a given day, week, or month. That allows me to plan accordingly and get things down to a system.

Once I found that, life in general just seemed to run smoother. It also helped that I wasn’t an awkward teenager trying to handle acne, puberty, and poor social skills anymore. Life experience and maturity helped me better navigate my life on a day-to-day basis.

Plus, making my own money, being able to spend it however I wanted, and living on my own schedule was a lot more fulfilling. I was no longer constantly checking the clock, agonizing over when my next assignment or obligation was.

Yes, I had that with my job, but that always felt less stressful than school because it was more limited. There was less emphasis on following strict schedules and getting grades. What mattered more was the end results and once I knew how to do that, there was less stress and anxiety.

Now, it was more a matter of how to enjoy my personal time when I wasn’t working. Having more of that, as well as enough money to make the most of it, really benefited me in terms of mental health. But it also made that time feel more fleeting and precious. When you’re doing your own thing and enjoying it every step of the way, it seems to end sooner. That’s often how I feel every time my trip to New York Comic Con ends.

I suspect that feeling will continue to evolve as I get older. There is some real science behind why time seems to move faster as you get older. Much of it has to do with how getting older makes each experience a smaller and smaller chunk of your lived experience. I think there is some merit to that and my older friends can often attest to it.

But beyond the science, I think this feeling is best summed up by a friend of mine who retired recently. He once told me that “The days are long, but the years feel short.” And I think that holds true, regardless of how old you are.

Every day is going to go by at its own pace, regardless of whether you’re working, going to school, or just enjoying a lazy Saturday afternoon. But as you make it through each day, they add up fast. Eventually, they’ll all feel like a blur as you make it through another year. At times, it feels like those days were wasted. But I would encourage others to avoid that feeling.

Because I believe that no day is truly wasted unless you go out of your way to do so. If you’re just lounging about, but enjoying it every step of the way, then that’s not a wasted day. But if you’re just lounging about and ignoring things you know you have to do, then that is a waste and it will impact the days that follow.

In the end, it’s a balancing act. If you find yourself in a situation that works for you, then it will feel like the years will start to fly by. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. It means that you’re not in a situation agonizing over what the next day will bring or what you’ll have to do in the weeks to come.

Perception or not, the world will keep spinning and time will keep passing us by. But if you’ve built a good life for yourself and those around you, you’ll find that the days and years were well-spent, regardless of how brief they seemed.

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An Important Message To The Winner Of The $1 Billion Powerball Jackpot (Or Any Lottery Winner)

On Wednesday, July 20, 2023, a very lucky individual in California found out they won the $1 billion jackpot. It is one of the largest lottery jackpot wins in US history. And whoever is the purchaser of that ticket, their life is about to change immensely. I know a lot of people dream about winning the lottery and what they would do if it ever happened. But for this individual, it’s no longer a fantasy.

Now, setting aside for a moment the collective envy we all feel for lottery winners, I do want to convey an important message to this and all future lottery winners. Please note that this message isn’t from me. It comes courtesy of a famous post on Reddit that is frequently re-visited every time the lottery jackpot gets very bit.

What it says and what it reveals isn’t just important for lottery winners and non-winners alike. It adds a critical perspective that supersedes any fanciful dreams about wealth and money. Enjoy.


Congratulations! You just won millions of dollars in the lottery! That’s great.

Now you’re fucked.

No really.

You are.

You’re fucked.

If you just want to skip the biographical tales of woe of some of the math-tax protagonists, skip on down to the next comment. To see what to do in the event you win the lottery.

You see, it’s something of an open secret that winners of obnoxiously large jackpots tend to end up badly with alarming regularity. Not the $1 million dollar winners. But anyone in the nine-figure range is at high risk. Eight-figures? Pretty likely to be screwed. Seven-figures? Yep. Painful. Perhaps this is a consequence of the sample. The demographics of lottery players might be exactly the wrong people to win large sums of money. Or perhaps money is the root of all evil. Either way, you are going to have to be careful. Don’t believe me? Consider this:

Large jackpot winners face double digit multiples of probability versus the general population to be the victim of:

  1. Homicide (something like 20x more likely)
  2. Drug overdose
  3. Bankruptcy (how’s that for irony?)
  4. Kidnapping

And triple digit multiples of probability versus the general population rate to be:

  1. Convicted of drunk driving
  2. The victim of Homicide (at the hands of a family member) 120x more likely in this case, ain’t love grand?
  3. A defendant in a civil lawsuit
  4. A defendant in felony criminal proceedings

Believe it or not, your biggest enemy if you suddenly become possessed of large sums of money is… you. At least you will have the consolation of meeting your fate by your own hand. But if you can’t manage it on your own, don’t worry. There are any number of willing participants ready to help you start your vicious downward spiral for you. Mind you, many of these will be “friends,” “friendly neighbors,” or “family.” Often, they won’t even have evil intentions. But, as I’m sure you know, that makes little difference in the end. Most aren’t evil. Most aren’t malicious. Some are. None are good for you.

Jack Whittaker, a Johnny Cash attired, West Virginia native, is the poster boy for the dangers of a lump sum award. In 2002 Mr. Whittaker (55 years old at the time) won what was, also at the time, the largest single award jackpot in U.S. history. $315 million. At the time, he planned to live as if nothing had changed, or so he said. He was remarkably modest and decent before the jackpot, and his ship sure came in, right? Wrong.

Mr. Whittaker became the subject of a number of personal challenges, escalating into personal tragedies, complicated by a number of legal troubles.

Whittaker wasn’t a typical lottery winner either. His net worth at the time of his winnings was in excess of $15 million, owing to his ownership of a successful contracting firm in West Virginia. His claim to want to live “as if nothing had changed” actually seemed plausible. He should have been well equipped for wealth. He was already quite wealthy, after all. By all accounts he was somewhat modest, low profile, generous and good natured. He should have coasted off into the sunset. Yeah. Not exactly.

Whittaker took the all-cash option, $170 million, instead of the annuity option, and took possession of $114 million in cash after $56 million in taxes. After that, things went south.

Whittaker quickly became the subject of a number of financial stalkers, who would lurk at his regular breakfast hideout and accost him with suggestions for how to spend his money. They were unemployed. No, an interview tomorrow morning wasn’t good enough. They needed cash NOW. Perhaps they had a sure-fire business plan. Their daughter had cancer. A niece needed dialysis. Needless to say, Whittaker stopped going to his breakfast haunt. Eventually, they began ringing his doorbell. Sometimes in the early morning. Before long he was paying off-duty deputies to protect his family. He was accused of being heartless. Cold. Stingy.

Letters poured in. Children with cancer. Diabetes. MS. You name it. He hired three people to sort the mail. A detective to filter out the false claims and the con men (and women) was retained.

Brenda, the clerk who had sold Whittaker the ticket, was a victim of collateral damage. Whittaker had written her a check for $44,000 and bought her house, but she was by no means a millionaire. Rumors that the state routinely paid the clerk who had sold the ticket 10% of the jackpot winnings hounded her. She was followed home from work. Threatened. Assaulted.

Whittaker’s car was twice broken into, by trusted acquaintances who watched him leave large amounts of cash in it. $500,000 and $200,000 were stolen in two separate instances. The thieves spiked Whittaker’s drink with prescription drugs in the first instance. The second incident was the handiwork of his granddaughter’s friends, who had been probing the girl for details on Whittaker’s cash for weeks.

Even Whittaker’s good-faith generosity was questioned. When he offered $10,000 to improve the city’s water park so that it was more handicap accessible, locals complained that he spent more money at the strip club. (Amusingly this was true).

Whittaker invested quite a bit in his own businesses, tripled the number of people his businesses employed (making him one of the larger employers in the area) and eventually had given away $14 million to charity through a foundation he set up for the purpose. This is, of course, what you are “supposed” to do. Set up a foundation. Be careful about your charity giving. It made no difference in the end.

To top it all off, Whittaker had been accused of ruining a number of marriages. His money made other men look inferior, they said, wherever he went in the small West Virginia town he called home. Resentment grew quickly. And festered. Whittaker paid four settlements related to this sort of claim. Yes, you read that right. Four.

His family and their immediate circle were quickly the victims of odds-defying numbers of overdoses, emergency room visits and even fatalities. His granddaughter, the eighteen year old “Brandi” (who Whittaker had been giving a $2100.00 per week allowance) was found dead after having been missing for several weeks. Her death was, apparently, from a drug overdose, but Whittaker suspected foul play. Her body had been wrapped in a tarp and hidden behind a rusted-out van. Her seventeen-year-old boyfriend had expired three months earlier in Whittaker’s vacation house, also from an overdose. Some of his friends had robbed the house after his overdose, stepping over his body to make their escape and then returning for more before stepping over his body again to leave. His parents sued for wrongful death claiming that Whittaker’s loose purse strings contributed to their son’s death. Amazingly, juries are prone to award damages in cases such as these. Whittaker settled. Again.

Even before the deaths, the local and state police had taken a special interest in Whittaker after his new-found fame. He was arrested for minor and less minor offenses many times after his winnings, despite having had a nearly spotless record before the award. Whittaker’s high profile couldn’t have helped him much in this regard.

In 18 months Whittaker had been cited for over 250 violations ranging from broken tail lights on every one of his five new cars, to improper display of renewal stickers. A lawsuit charging various police organizations with harassment went nowhere and Whittaker was hit with court costs instead.

Whittaker’s wife filed for divorce, and in the process froze a number of his assets and the accounts of his operating companies. Caesars in Atlantic City sued him for $1.5 million to cover bounced checks, caused by the asset freeze.

Today Whittaker is badly in debt, and bankruptcy looms large in his future.

But, hey, that’s just one example, right?

Wrong.

Nearly one third of multi-million-dollar jackpot winners eventually declare bankruptcy. Some end up worse. To give you just a taste of the possibilities, consider the fates of:

  • Billie Bob Harrell, Jr.: $31 million. Texas, 1997. As of 1999: Committed suicide in the wake of incessant requests for money from friends and family. “Winning the lottery is the worst thing that ever happened to me.
  • William âBud❠Post: $16.2 million. Pennsylvania. 1988. In 1989: Brother hires a contract murderer to kill him and his sixth wife. Landlady sued for portion of the jackpot. Convicted of assault for firing a gun at a debt collector. Declared bankruptcy. Dead in 2006.
  • Evelyn Adams: $5.4 million (won TWICE 1985, 1986). As of 2001: Poor and living in a trailer gave away and gambled most of her fortune.
  • Suzanne Mullins: $4.2 million. Virginia. 1993. As of 2004: No assets left.
  • Shefik Tallmadge: $6.7 million. Arizona. 1988. As of 2005: Declared bankruptcy.
  • Thomas Strong: $3 million. Texas. 1993. As of 2006: Died in a shoot-out with police.
  • Victoria Zell: $11 million. 2001. Minnesota. As of 2006: Broke. Serving seven year sentence for vehicular manslaughter.
  • Karen Cohen: $1 million. Illinois. 1984. As of 2000: Filed for bankruptcy. As of 2006: Sentenced to 22 months for lying to federal bankruptcy court.
  • Jeffrey Dampier: $20 million. Illinois. 1996. As of 2006: Kidnapped and murdered by own sister-in-law.
  • Ed Gildein: $8.8 million. Texas. 1993. As of 2003: Dead. Wife saddled with his debts. As of 2005: Wife sued by her own daughter who claimed that she was taking money from a trust fund and squandering cash in Las Vegas.
  • Willie Hurt: $3.1 million. Michigan. 1989. As of 1991: Addicted to cocaine. Divorced. Broke. Indicted for murder.
  • Michael Klingebiel: $2 million. As of 1998 sued by own mother claiming he failed to share the jackpot with her.
  • Janite Lee: $18 million. 1993. Missouri. As of 2001: Filed for bankruptcy with $700 in assets.

So, what the hell DO you do if you are unlucky enough to win the lottery?

This is the absolutely most important thing you can do right away: NOTHING.

Yes. Nothing.

DO NOT DECLARE YOURSELF THE WINNER yet.

Do NOT tell anyone. The urge is going to be nearly irresistible. Resist it. Trust me.

1. IMMEDIATELY retain an attorney.

Get a partner from a larger, NATIONAL firm. Don’t let them pawn off junior partners or associates on you. They might try, all law firms might, but insist instead that your lead be a partner who has been with the firm for a while. Do NOT use your local attorney. Yes, I mean your long-standing family attorney who did your mother’s will. Do not use the guy who fought your dry-cleaner bill. Do not use the guy you have trusted your entire life because of his long and faithful service to your family. In fact, do not use any firm that has any connection to family or friends or community. TRUST me. This is bad. You want someone who has never heard of you, any of your friends, or any member of your family. Go to the closest big city and walk into one of the national firms asking for one of the “Trust and Estates” partners you have previously looked up on http://www.martindale.com from one of the largest 50 firms in the United States which has an office near you. You can look up attorneys by practice area and firm on Martindale.

2. Decide to take the lump sum.

Most lotteries pay a really pathetic rate for the annuity. It usually hovers around 4.5% annual return or less, depending. It doesn’t take much to do better than this, and if you have the money already in cash, rather than leaving it in the hands of the state, you can pull from the capital whenever you like. If you take the annuity you won’t have access to that cash. That could be good. It could be bad. It’s probably bad unless you have a very addictive personality. If you need an allowance managed by the state, it is because you didn’t listen to point #1 above.

Why not let the state just handle it for you and give you your allowance?

Many state lotteries pay you your “allowance” (the annuity option) by buying U.S. treasury instruments and running the interest payments through their bureaucracy before sending it to you along with a hunk of the principal every month. You will not be beating inflation by much, if at all. There is no reason you couldn’t do this yourself, if a low single-digit return is acceptable to you.

You aren’t going to get even remotely the amount of the actual jackpot. Take our old friend Mr. Whittaker. Using Whittaker is a good model both because of the reminder of his ignominious decline, and the fact that his winning ticket was one of the larger ones on record. If his situation looks less than stellar to you, you might have a better perspective on how “large” your winnings aren’t. Whittaker’s “jackpot” was $315 million. He selected the lump-sum cash up-front option, which knocked off $145 million (or 46% of the total) leaving him with $170 million. That was then subject to withholding for taxes of $56 million (33%) leaving him with $114 million.

In general, you should expect to get about half of the original jackpot if you elect a lump sum (maybe better, it depends). After that, you should expect to lose around 33% of your already pruned figure to state and federal taxes. (Your mileage may vary, particularly if you live in a state with aggressive taxation schemes).

3. Decide right now, how much you plan to give to family and friends.

This really shouldn’t be more than 20% or so. Figure it out right now. Pick your number. Tell your lawyer. That’s it. Don’t change it. 20% of $114 million is $22.8 million. That leaves you with $91.2 million. DO NOT CONSULT WITH FAMILY when deciding how much to give to family. You are going to get advice that is badly tainted by conflict of interest, and if other family members find out that Aunt Flo was consulted and they weren’t you will never hear the end of it. Neither will Aunt Flo. This might later form the basis for an allegation that Aunt Flo unduly influenced you and a lawsuit might magically appear on this basis. No, I’m not kidding. I know of one circumstance (related to a business windfall, not a lottery) where the plaintiffs WON this case.

Do NOT give anyone cash. Ever. Period. Just don’t. Do not buy them houses. Do not buy them cars. Tell your attorney that you want to provide for your family, and that you want to set up a series of trusts for them that will total 20% of your after-tax winnings. Tell him you want the trust empowered to fund higher education, some help (not a total) purchase of their first home, some provision for weddings and the like, whatever. Do NOT put yourself in the position of handing out cash. Once you do, if you stop, you will be accused of being a heartless bastard (or bitch). Trust me. It won’t go well.

It will be easy to lose perspective. It is now the duty of your friends, family, relatives, hangers-on and their inner circle to skew your perspective, and they take this job quite seriously. Setting up a trust, a managed fund for your family that is in the double-digit millions is AMAZINGLY generous. You need never have trouble sleeping because you didn’t lend Uncle Jerry $20,000 in small denomination unmarked bills to start his chain of deep-fried peanut butter pancake restaurants. (“Deep’n ‘nutter Restaurants”) Your attorney will have a number of good ideas how to parse this wealth out without turning your siblings/spouse/children/grandchildren/cousins/waitresses into the latest Paris Hilton.

4. You will be encouraged to hire an investment manager. Considerable pressure will be applied. Don’t.

Investment managers charge fees, usually a percentage of assets. Consider this: If they charge 1% (which is low, I doubt you could find this deal, actually) they have to beat the market by 1% every year just to break even with a general market index fund. It is not worth it, and you don’t need the extra return or the extra risk. Go for the index fund instead if you must invest in stocks. This is a hard rule to follow. They will come recommended by friends. They will come recommended by family. They will be your second cousin on your mother’s side. Investment managers will sound smart. They will have lots of cool acronyms. They will have nice PowerPoint presentations. They might (MIGHT) pay for your shrimp cocktail lunch at TGI Friday’s while reminding you how poor their side of the family is. They live for this stuff.

You should smile, thank them for their time, and then tell them you will get back to them next week. Don’t sign ANYTHING. Don’t write it on a cocktail napkin (lottery lawsuit cases have been won and lost over drunkenly scrawled cocktail napkin addition and subtraction figures with lots of zeros on them). Never call them back. Trust me. You will thank me later. This tactic, smiling, thanking people for their time, and promising to get back to people, is going to have to become familiar. You will have to learn to say no gently, without saying the word “no.” It sounds underhanded. Sneaky. It is. And its part of your new survival strategy. I mean the word “survival” quite literally.

Get all this figured out BEFORE you claim your winnings. They aren’t going anywhere. Just relax.

5. If you elect to be more global about your paranoia, use between 20.00% and 33.00% of what you have not decided to commit to a family fund IMMEDIATELY to purchase a combination of longer-term U.S. treasuries (5 or 10 year are a good idea) and perhaps even another G7 treasury instrument. This is your safety net. You will be protected… from yourself.

You are going to be really tempted to start being a big investor. You are going to be convinced that you can double your money in Vegas with your awesome Roulette system/by funding your friend’s amazing idea to sell Lemming dung/buying land for oil drilling/by shorting the North Pole Ice market (global warming, you know). This all sounds tempting because “Even if I lose it all I still have $XX million left! Anyone could live on that comfortably for the rest of their life.” Yeah, except for 33% of everyone who won the lottery.

You’re not going to double your money, so cool it. Let me say that again. You’re not going to double your money, so cool it. Right now, you’ll get around 3.5% on the 10-year U.S. treasury. With $18.2 million (20% of $91.2 mil after your absurdly generous family gift) invested in those you will pull down $638,400 per year. If everything else blows up, you still have that, and you will be in the top 1% of income in the United States. So how about you not fuck with it. Eh? And that’s income that is damn safe. If we get to the point where the United States defaults on those instruments, we are in far worse shape than worrying about money.

If you are really paranoid, you might consider picking another G7 or otherwise mainstream country other than the U.S. according to where you want to live if the United States dissolves into anarchy or Britney Spears is elected to the United States Senate. Put some fraction in something like Swiss Government Bonds at 3%. If the Swiss stop paying on their government debt, well, then you know money really means nothing anywhere on the globe anymore. I’d study small field sustainable agriculture if you think this is a possibility. You might have to start feeding yourself.

6. That leaves, say, 80% of $91.2 million or $72.9 million.

Here is where things start to get less clear. Personally, I think you should dump half of this, or $36.4 million, into a boring S&P 500 index fund. Find something with low fees. You are going to be constantly tempted to retain “sophisticated” advisers who charge “nominal fees.” Don’t. Period. Even if you lose every other dime, you have $638,400 per year you didn’t have before that will keep coming in until the United States falls into chaos. Fuck advisers and their fees. Instead, drop your $36.4 million in the market in a low fee vehicle. Unless we have an unprecedented downturn the likes of which the United States has never seen, should return around 7.00% or so over the next 10 years. You should expect to touch not even a dime of this money for 10 or 15 or even 20 years. In 20 years $36.4 million could easily become $115 million.

7. So you have put a safety net in place.

You have provided for your family beyond your wildest dreams. And you still have $36.4 million in “cash.” You know you will be getting $638,400 per year unless the capital building is burning, you don’t ever need to give anyone you care about cash, since they are provided for generously and responsibly (and can’t blow it in Vegas) and you have a HUGE nest egg that is growing at market rates. (Given the recent dip, you’ll be buying in at great prices for the market). What now? Whatever you want. Go ahead and burn through $36.4 million in hookers and blow if you want. You’ve got more security than 99% of the country. A lot of it is in trusts so even if you are sued your family will live well, and progress across generations. If your lawyer is worth his salt (I bet he is) then you will be insulated from most lawsuits anyhow. Buy a nice house or two, make sure they aren’t stupid investments though. Go ahead and be an angel investor and fund some startups, but REFUSE to do it for anyone you know. (Friends and money, oil and water – Michael Corleone) Play. Have fun. You earned it by putting together the shoe sizes of your whole family on one ticket and winning the jackpot.

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Happy Father’s Day (Especially To My Awesome Dad)!

Today is Father’s Day.

And when you’re lucky enough to have an awesome dad like mine, it’s definitely worth celebrating.

Now, I know I’ve gone out of my way to brag about how awesome my dad in the past. And I’ve no intention to stop bragging. Why should I? My dad is just that great. And I will never hesitate to celebrate, honor, and thank him for being the best dad a guy like me could ask for. So many of my best traits come directly from my dad and how he raised me.

Today, I just happen to have a better excuse than usual to celebrate how great he is. And I’m happy to take advantage of it.

I know he occasionally reads this site. So, I like to make sure I properly articulate how much I love him and how grateful I am for all that he’s done for me. There’s so much I could talk about for my dad. There are the times he helped me while I was struggling in school, when I was a moody teenager, and when I had a bad attitude problem during my less-than-successful little league baseball career.

I could probably write entire books on certain phases of my life and how my dad was so instrumental. But in the interest of keeping this from running too long, I’ll highlight just one that I still remember fondly to this day. I’m not sure if he remembers this. But if he does, I hope it brings him the same joy it still brings me.

This particular incident happened when I was around four years old. My dad was working a construction job at the time. And my mother happened to have the day off. So, she took me to McDonald’s, which was always a treat for me. I remember getting a happy meal and a toy, which was enough to make any kid’s day back then. However, the toy wasn’t what stands out the most.

What made that trip to McDonald’s so memorable was that the burger had a pickle in it. My parents know I hate pickles and I always ask that they be removed from my burger. This time, they forgot. But I didn’t realize that until my mother drove by the construction site my dad was working at to say hi. This was not unusual. And he often dropped by to greet us and take a break.

But this time, when we drove by, I started crying because I found a pickle in my burger. Now, this is one of those moments that could either ruin a day or make it great. My parents, being the awesome people they are, found a way to make it great for all the right reasons.

Just as we drove up and started chatting, my dad saw the pickle in the burger. He saw me crying and complaining, as most four-year-olds do over minor things. So, without missing a beat, he just took the burger, took out the pickle, and threw the pickle across the construction site as hard as he could. He then turned back to me, smiled, and gave me back the burger.

To this day, I still remember how much I laughed and smiled at that. My mom started laughing too. It was simple, playful gesture from a man who was working an arduous job. But he still had the energy and the heart to make me smile.

As a result, that particular McDonald’s burger was extra tasty. And I have my dad to thank for that.

In the years that followed, we drove by that site frequently. It ultimately became a shopping center that still stands to this day. And whenever we passed by, my mom and I would point out the exact spot where my dad threw the pickle. And I would always smile at that memory.

That’s just one of many memories of my dad that I cherish. Today, I hope others can recount and celebrate similar memories. I know not everyone is lucky enough to have an awesome dad like mine. But that just makes me appreciate him even more.

So, to my wonderful father and all the other amazing father’s out there, I wish you a very Happy Father’s Day!

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Celebrating Summer (With A Personal Story About Sunburn And Sunscreen)

Summer is here!

If you’re a kid who has endured the past eight months of school or an adult who hates dressing in layers just to get the mail, it’s a wonderful time of year. I always looked forward to it as a kid, largely because I was so miserable at school. But even after I started working, I still looked forward to summer. No matter what job I had, it just felt less strenuous with the knowledge that pools were open and beach vacations were possible.

Since the COVID-19 pandemic, I’ve only come to appreciate summer even more. I wasn’t able to do much traveling for a couple years. Now, my summer travel plans are largely back to normal. That usually means I’ll be taking multiple trips to the beach and I’ll be spending a good chunk of that time lounging about, reading comics under the sun, and hanging out with friends and family. Just thinking about it makes me feel more relaxed.

And I encourage everyone to take time this summer to enjoy themselves. It doesn’t matter if that involves a trip to the beach, a walk in the park, or eating ice cream on a hot day. We all should get out and enjoy this time of year. It’s good for us on so many levels.

But, like with any activity, seasonal or otherwise, there are risks and precautions. Most are minor. If you have a lick of common sense, you already know what to do and you’ll be fine. But in the spirit of celebrating this time of year, I’d like to share a personal story that I hope reminds everyone why these precautions are worth taking. And it involves sunburns and sunscreen.

I know it’s a common concern. Go to any beach, pool, or summer hot spot and chances are someone will urge you to put on sunscreen. For some, it’s more important than others. And that definitely applies to me.

Since I was a kid, I’ve always burned easily. Whereas my sisters always seem to get a nice tan by spending time in the sun, my brother and I always burn and burn badly. Even when we use sunscreen, we can get burned. Granted, that’s often a result of us not applying enough of it. But that doesn’t make the burn hurt any less. I could recount plenty of stories about times when I got nasty sunburns that took weeks to heal.

But one story in particular will always stand out and I hope that by sharing it, others will take applying sunscreen more seriously.

This is a pretty recent story as well, taking place only about six years ago. That’s important because it happened while I was a capable, functioning adult. It’s one thing for kids to get sunburned. They’re stubborn and short-sighted. I know I certainly was and I ended up with plenty of burns that left lasting impressions. So, by this point in my life, I had no excuses.

It happened during a memorable 4th of July trip to the beach. I took an extended vacation so that I could travel to the beach to meet up with some friends and family. We were going to spend some time at the shore, enjoy some fireworks, and have a cookout. It was a perfect setup for the 4th of July holiday and I was so ready to enjoy it.

On the first day I was there, I met up with my dad and we spent almost the entire day lounging at the beach. It was a perfect summer day. It was hot, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. You really couldn’t have asked for better weather for a holiday weekend.

Knowing this, I did make it a point to apply plenty of sunscreen. I tried to cover every part of my body that usually burned quickly. I promised myself that this trip wasn’t going to result in some painful burn that would obscure an otherwise perfect summer trip. Sadly, I couldn’t keep that promise.

While I did use over half a bottle of sunscreen to smother most of my body, there was one particular part I missed. It was a small patch just around the tops of my feet. That’s not normally a part of my body on which I apply sunscreen, mostly because I wear sneakers all the time, even in hot weather. So, in my rush to get down to the beach, I missed that part. And the summer sun punished me for it.

The day at the beach was still great. It was the first time in weeks that I could just sit down, relax, and not worry about all the other stuff that was going on my life. It also gave me some quality time with my dad, which I always enjoy. That was all great and totally worth it. But it wasn’t until later that evening I realized something.

The tops of my feet hurt like hell.

When I tried putting my shoes on to go out for dinner, the pain was really bad. And that’s when I found out what had happened. The tops of my feet were badly sunburned. The rest of my body was fine. The parts that usually got burned easily were unaffected. I even had a slight tan in some areas. But the patch of burns on my feet were bright red with burns.

I know it’s not fun to have any part of your body sunburned. But trust me, burning the tops of your feet is especially painful. It’s not just that it makes wearing shoes and socks a test in pain tolerance. The mere act of taking a shower becomes difficult. I found that out the hard way the next morning. For the rest of the trip, I had to be careful with what I wore on my feet and what I did. The burns were just that bad.

As painful as it was, I still had fun during that trip. It didn’t keep me from enjoying my time at the beach or the various 4th of July festivities that came with it. But it did help reinforce the importance of sunscreen for me. Since then, I’ve become much more thorough when it comes to applying it for a trip to the beach or pool. And you can rightly assume that I’ll always put a little extra on my feet.

Again, I encourage everyone to get out there and enjoy this summer. Go to the beach. Go to the pool. Go to a cookout with friends and family. Enjoy the sun and the warmth. Just be safe and responsible. You don’t want to deal with sunburns more than you have to. And you especially don’t want to deal with burns on your feet.

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