- Lundy found guilty
- Tournament needs school buy in
- WBOP crime rates drop
- Kaimai speed trials in May
- Zespri site decision delay
- Plunket Shield reaches the Bay
- Low supply drives house prices
- Mucking in at Takitimu Drive
- New money "brighter and better"
- Residents slam developers
- Easter action on court
- Clocks go back on Sunday
- Volunteers hard at work in Vanuatu
- Uncovering science’s potential
- Road works in Lower Kaimai
- One dead in Paengaroa crash
- Car crash in Te Puna
- Mum’s tenancy feud heats up
- Newest millionaire in Papamoa
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- Lucky to be alive after crash
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- Incident at Pukehina
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Winning millions, saving the planet and pink boots
How do you win $26.5m and not be a changed person overnight?
You can't, apparently. Trevor the checkout operator, who declared he'd carry on working, failed to show up for work the next morning for his 5am shift. That's despite telling the nation on TV that he was determined to keep working as normal at the Huntly supermarket.
It's an obscene amount of money for one person to win and would make more sense if 26 people won a million. That's clearly the feeling of the rest of the country, after a television poll found the majority in favour of more, smaller prizes than the Lotto maximum of up to $30m going to one ticketholder.
The RR syndicate is quite miffed that we haven't even won a small prize. The odds are pretty slim, made even more unlikely since we've never bought a ticket.
A mate tells me his ex-wife often criticised him because he kept buying Lotto tickets and never won. She'd told him that there was more chance of them being struck by lightning than winning Lotto. He told me that he'd never had luck with either of those – winning a prize, or her being struck by lightning.
“We're not talking about a big Lotto prize or a big thunder storm here. Even a little bolt of lightning would do the job.”
Although he does believe the new husband is the next best thing to sudden death – slow death, by boredom.
But back to the lottery issue.
Some odd behaviour surfaces when a big jackpot is won. Some say people change when they win a big prize, but usually it's just their real personalities coming to the fore.
Alcohol has the same effect. People don't change when they are under the influence – we merely get a glimpse of what they're really like, underneath the mask. When the mask of conditioned behaviour, enforced by society, is removed, you see the real personality emerge.
Pretty much the same happens when they have ridiculous amounts of money. The suddenly cash-drunk individual suddenly doesn't need to conform, or put up a façade to those they may not agree with – or even turn up for work. Money would seem to fix anything – in the short term.
It's later that the rot sets in, for those incapable of handling that much wealth.
The history of big lottery wins is littered with sad tales of disaster, lost relationships and life-changing results, often for the worse. Yes, there are some positive stories, but one thing that seems clear is that a massive windfall does change everyone.
Human achievement hour
Meanwhile, clear-thinking readers were again subjected to another dose of Earth Hour nonsense this week – when a bunch of people, convinced they are saving the planet by switching off their lights and not using their cars for an hour – actually got in their cars and DROVE to ‘celebrate' their sanctimoniousness with a bunch of other fools, and LIT candles and other carbon-emitting burners.
As we've pointed out in previous years, this is a mindless piece of nonsense and should be relegated alongside Halloween and Guy Fawkes for achieving absolutely nothing for the planet – in fact it is hoodwinking the young and naïve into believing they're actually doing some good.
Worse, those do-gooders immediately return to their ravenous consumption habits by 10pm and the rest of the year thereafter. Never mind, they've soothed their consciences!
Much better, is this concept brought to our attention by avid reader Rob, who recommends we follow the example of the Competitive Enterprise Institute, promoting Human Achievement Hour.
Fred Smith writes: “During Human Achievement Hour, enjoy the benefits of capitalism and human innovation. To celebrate participants need only to spend the 8:30pm to 9:30pm hour on March 31 enjoying the benefits of free enterprise and human innovation: gather with friends in the warmth of a heated home, watch television, take a hot shower, drink a beer, call a loved one on the phone, or listen to music.”
Among the many backlashes to earth hour, is the “Anti Earth Hour” site, which also points out that natural global cooling and warming follows a pattern over thousands of years:
The RR team became quite agitated while watching the rugby, to see a pair of pink boots on the pitch. Sure it was supporting cancer, but some of the fans are getting edgy.
This parting thought, from Tommy:
Dear Sir Rapete, fifty years ago when I first started playing rugby for Mount 9th grade, footy boots came in one colour - black, and if someone back then had told me that props would be wearing bright pink boots in my lifetime - I would have laughed them off the paddock; yelling “Yeah Right!”
Now the boot is on the other foot and the prophecy of a pink-footed prop has come true.
To see a Chiefs prop score in the corner against the Waratahs last Saturday was cool. To see him wearing bright pink boots was confusing. Sure I get the shaved heads for a great cause and good on them. But pretty in pink boots on a big beefy prop? Nah!
Then there's the ref, what part does he play in this twinkle toed sacrilege when asking the props to crouch and hold, then touch and engage? How long before a little peck on the cheek is the next command?
What next? Mascara and lipstick, eye liner and bright coloured beads in their hair?
Hang on a minute mate, that's already in the backline, alongside the fancy two steps and secret hand signals every time a try is scored. The real killer for me with the ‘new game' is every time a perceived injustice has taken place by either a pink footed prop or a breakdancing back, there is an immediate gaggle of moaning men, all waving their arms in the air and protesting to the ref as if someone has stolen their purses.
Come on boys let's bring back black boots, its rugby, not ballet!
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