Please read this...Powerball presents presidential possibilities
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<p class="p1">Last Thursday, which now seems like a day in a week far, far away, was one of those glorious days that we really didn't deserve on the 14th day of January. The sun was shining in a bright blue sky. An almost-warm wind was blowing, with the occasional blustery gustery.</p><p class="p1">The day had dawned like pretty much every other day, except that there was actually sunshine. That bright start matched my outlook, which is quite unusual, because, as anyone, especially The Other Half, will emphatically confirm, yours truly is n-o-t a morning person.</p><p class="p1">My cheerful disposition was based on the outcome of the January 13 Powerball drawing. You know, the big lottery that had a prize of something like a gazillion dollars. We did not win a gazillion dollars. However, we did double our investment, which was a good thing. Not bad, for a $2 outlay.</p><p class="p1">I picked up our lone Powerball ticket on the very day that the winning numbers were picked. Doing my part to shop locally, I purchased the ticket at a business in my hometown. Folks in that neck of woods apparently had been vaccinated against Powerball fever, 'cause there was only one person ahead of me in line to buy a ticket.</p><p class="p1">I halfheartedly wished my fellow ticket buyer good luck, and then apologized, because I knew that I would soon purchase the Powerball ticket with the winning numbers. </p><p class="p1">She was gracious, though, and did share something to the effect that if she won the gazillion dollar prize, she might consider buying the Rams. And, I am assuming, she would have kept the NFL team in the Midwest. I kind of wished that Rams owner Stan Kroenke had been there with us, just so he would know that some folks in this part of the world care about his team. Not that it would matter.</p><p class="p1">Given that I was pretty sure that we could not get by for very long on a vast Powerball-winning fortune worth four bucks, I decided that it would probably be a good thing to make my way to The Paragraph Factory. </p><p class="p1">Buoyed by the confidence and anticipation of coming into an unexpected four bucks, I journeyed easily through the fourth day of the work week. </p><p class="p1">After meeting the challenges of an exciting Thursday morning, I decided to pay a visit to the Lincoln Memorial Picnic Grounds in Jonesboro that afternoon, just to see if there might be a photo opportunity or two. </p><p class="p1">Oddly, I did not see a single squirrel scampering about at the picnic grounds. Not a single one. Go figure. Maybe they are tired of having their picture taken. There were three people, and an equal number of dogs, including one dog wearing a sweater, enjoying the day at the park. I did take some pictures of trees and water. The trees were not moving around much.</p><p class="p1">Thursday's schedule also included making the rounds at one of your intrepid writer's beats. A beat, as I may have mentioned previously in this space, basically is an acceptable way for somebody who fancies himself, or herself, as a reporter/journalist in the traditional sense of the word to waste his/her time, as well as the time of the folks he/she happens to meet along the way.</p><p class="p1">Last Thursday, my beat happened to be the building which serves as the heart of Union County government. The Union County Courthouse sits in Jonesboro. Jonesboro, as you may know, is the county "seat." Honestly, I do not know why the county "seat" is called the county "seat," as opposed to, say, the county chair, settee, table, bench or some other piece of furniture. Perhaps I will look that up someday. </p><p class="p1">I do know that the courthouse in the county "seat" is the home of the county "bench," or court, which involves nifty, often incomprehensible legal proceedings that generally leave reporters baffled, but with the sense that they seen and heard something important. </p><p class="p1">The "bench," by the way, is upstairs at the courthouse, in case you have never been. The "bench" has seats, which, I suppose, makes them all county seats in the county "seat."</p><p class="p1">While on my beat in the county "seat," I had a nice little chat with a local election official about, well, about this little election thing that will be happening in 2016. Perhaps you've heard about it.</p><p class="p1">During our chat, which was at about 2:15 in the Thursday afternoon o'clock, I learned that some guy named Dave, or Fred, or Ralph, wants to be a write-in candidate in Illinois for president of the United States. He lives in Chicago, which, in my mind, automatically disqualifies him for everything.</p><p class="p1">I also learned that, should I decide to do so, I could be a write-in candidate in Union County for president of the United States. Well, I think that's what I learned. </p><p class="p1">The thing is – I had to make my potentially life-changing decision about running for president by 4 o'clock last Thursday afternoon, which was when the courthouse closed for the day.</p><p class="p1">Goodness. Such an opportunity. Maybe, I thought, I should throw my hat into the ring. I've got to do something with that Rams ball cap. But a presidential campaign is so expensive. </p><p class="p1">Wait a minute. I had four bucks in Powerball money coming. One of the boisterous presidential candidates supposedly has a $4 billion empire. Well, I'll have a $4 empire. That should be enough. Shouldn't it?</p>