Some timely advice for Powerball losers

With odds at 292 million to 1 you never really had much of a chance to become an instant billionaire. But you did have something equally precious: hope. Frame your ticket as a reminder of that fervent hope—the thing that springs eternal in the human breast. “Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul”, wrote Emily Dickinson, “and never stops at all.” The winner of the jackpot will meet the modern J. Beresford Tipton awarding the money. In the CBS TV show a million dollars went to somone every week who Tipton never met. It showed people's reaction to instant wealth but most were never changed for the better. In one spoof the recipient tore up the check and said, “I don't need it, I'm Mike Todd” (He also had Elizabeth Taylor). So the winner will be in the same league with George Soros but without the financial acumen; Bill Gates without creating anything. He will be deluged with advice on investing. The IRS will love him as will the well-rewarded QuickEMart that sold the ticket. His life will not be his own anymore. As for you dear loser, heed the words of the Beatles song: “Money can't buy me love”. And when the winner dies they will ask, “How much did he leave?”. The answer will be, “All of it.”

Hillary: a hawkish grandmother in Wall Street's pocket

And probably our next president. I prefer Bernie but I'll vote for Hillary and the straight Democratic ticket. I went to Berkeley and the Republican slate is too full of belligerent ignorance for me. However, they do provide an amusing theater of the absurd loosely based on Shakespeare's “Much ado about nothing”. Top billing goes to a guy who alternates between MacBeth and Iago. There is an Othello and of course a Lady MacBeth, a Florida governor who plays Hamlet and a New Jersey governor who makes a credible Falstaff. The stage is full of unimportant roles and Rosenkrantz and Guildenstern are dispatched early. One guy, who was born in Calgary, has stumbled in from a Samuel Beckett play. Really, it's all in good fun. This is what you get in an era of second and third raters. Their limitations are boundless. We've had 44 presidents and only Washington, Lincoln and FDR have been deemed great. It'll be over in November and then we can go back to watching reality television (Bowling for Fish sounds exciting). Speaking of television, there was a cartoon in the New Yorker during the Nixon years showing a middle aged matron in her chair watching the news and saying wistfully: “I wish Gene Kelly would run for something”.