This week the Powerball looks as though it might push towards another record prize.

And, of course, once again, I believe I will win.

I’d like to thank Jack Whittaker from the state of West Virginia for providing the rest of us with some parameters and guidelines as to what to do when we hit the lottery. I should rephrase that. Mr. Whittaker, who hit the Powerball on Christmas Day some years back for three hundred some odd million, has not actually provided lottery players with helpful hints on what to do. Instead, through his actions we can all learn what not to do when our proverbial ship comes sailing down the Mon.

First, and foremost, stay away from strip clubs. When stating “strip clubs”, I am not referring to any taverns located within walking distance of Pittsburgh’s world-famous Strip District. Some of those, I’m sure, would be fine for a millionaire to frequent. Who knows? Many probably do. My meaning is, instead, those nightclubs where women take off their frilly undergarments to the delight of men who stare on and occasionally offer up a tip consisting of a dollar or two.

It’s not the undergarments that pose the problem.

It’s not even the women themselves.

It’s that whole “tipping” process”.

If the story of Jack Whittaker is to be used as a guide, the strip clubs, and more specifically, the use of tip money at those very clubs, is where we can pinpoint the problem. As the story is told, Mr. Whittaker, a contractor from south central West Virginia who chose the one lump sum payment of just under 160 million dollars, has spent about 161 million dollars in the ensuing years. Quite a bit of that money, it is reported, was spent on strippers.

I like breasts.

I like money.

Now comes the decision.

The next item on the agenda to learn from Mr. Whittaker’s troubles is to nearly immediately place a good attorney on retainer. For, if his story is to be used as a rulebook, sometime within twenty minutes or so of claiming your lottery prize, everyone you have ever done business with will find a reason to bring a lawsuit upon you. Once again, using the reported facts as gleaned from local newspapers, it is estimated that Mr. Whittaker has spent nearly 30 million dollars defending his formerly good name in courts of law since cashing in that big ticket a little more than a decade ago. His lumber suppliers sued him. His customers sued him. A woman he once passed in traffic sued him for pain and suffering because he gave her the finger (that’s a true story, by the way). Not all the lawsuits were successful and some are still pending. Suffice to say that once you become a superstar money man, there will people who will want some of that green for their very own and will be ready willing and able to display their suffering in front of doctors, judges and newspaper reporters to get it.

I like my business.

I like money.

Now comes the decision.

The third lesson to be learned from Jack Whittaker, who recently disclosed he is, unofficially, out of money, is that a big bank account sometimes brings with it a certain lowering of moral standards. I’m not speaking merely of strip clubs, either. Instead, Jack warns us, through his easy-to-read self-destruction, that drugs and alcohol are probably to be steered clear of while counting. After telling a reporter from the Charleston Daily Mail that he walked into his local bank one day last month to retrieve some funs only to find that “someone had stolen all his money form his safe deposit boxes”, Mr. Whittaker admitted that he had recently developed a strong Oxycontin habit.

I like pills.

I like money.

Now comes the decision.

I’m not here to crucify Jack Whittaker. From what I’ve been above to learn, he is a very nice man who, in fact, has given many of his millions to charity, including building a new church for his hometown. The one thing Jack never realized (and I’m sure many of us are in the same weird boat) is that one day, after playing the lottery all of his life, he might actually win the damn thing.

Jack did not have a plan.

Jack did not think it through.

Jack is now broke.

And so I say to you, fellow dreamers, before your ship sails down the Mon to shower you with riches, think not only of what you’d like to buy with your millions, but of the many pitfalls that may ensue. Take Jack Whittaker’s advice, although he did not freely give of it. Learn from his mistakes. Prepare yourself for the impossible. Your numbers may indeed be coming.

And when they do?

You can thank smartphones for your troubles.

I’ve got proof that you once gave me the finger on the parkway.

I’ve already lawyered up.

We West Virginians know how to play that game, homey.

My attorney will be in touch.