In a somewhat surprising move this week, the NBA front office issued a new dress code policy that is to go into effect starting at the beginning of the regular season. The dress code requires players to wear 'business casual' attire while participating in team or league functions. The code bans sleeveless t-shirts, shorts, sunglasses indoors, and display of jewelry outside of clothing. It also requires injured players on the bench to wear a sportcoat, shoes, and socks. As expected, this has caused much controversy.

Many players are taking the 'You can put a murderer in a suit, but he's still a murderer'(Allen Iverson) argument, while others are taking a more cooperative approach. Many players are boiling down the issue to one of race, citing that the league wants to 'sway away from the hip-hop generation'(Jason Richardson). If you ask me(which no one has but I feel the need to comment anyway), they are way off base.

First, a very large part of the audience for the NBA is the inner-city population. The league could not possibly have any interest in alienating one of its core components, its fans.

Second, the players fighting the dress code are forgetting that while they play a game, it is still their job. I work as a front store manager for a pharmacy retailer. I get paid substantially less than an NBA player. However, I still have to wear a shirt and tie to work every day. The only day I don't wear a tie is on the day I receive our truck from the warehouse. Even on this day, I have a company issued uniform shirt that I wear with my dress slacks. While I know I would be more comfortable in my usual shorts and t-shirt combination, I realize that I'm representing an image of professionalism for my company.

Finally, players are also concerned that they are not being allowed to exhibit their style and creativity. What they need to realize is that 'business casual' offers an awful lot of opportunity for personal style. It's not as if the league has issued uniform suits to be worn off the court. Besides, I don't hear players arguing the fact that they all have to wear the same uniform on the court.

Maybe it's just me, but it seems like the NBA is just trying to steal back some headlines that have been snatched away by the return of the NHL. The last thing we need in this country right now is an argument that 'business casual' attire is racist. Next thing they'll be saying is that President Bush is trying to take away their throwback jerseys. My advice: Go buy some khakis and shut up.

It is currently 12:47 AM and I am just hours away from finding out if I'm the next gajillionaire compliments of the Powerball lottery. The current jackpot for tonight's drawing is approximately 340 million dollars. Which, of course, after taxes amounts to about 12 bucks. Still, the excitement is mounting.

I have a simple philosophy when it comes to the lottery. I wait for the jackpot to reach over 100 million dollars before I decide to play. What can you do with a measly 15 million anymore these days? Once the jackpot reaches the desired level, I get in line behind the gaggle of old ladies at the gas station and wait for my chance to purchase tickets. I always buy at least $10 worth of tickets. I figure the payoff is big enough to justify spending $9 more than is necessary to win.

I, being a former math major, am always interested in the odds of winning such a big jackpot. Let me explain how the game works for those of you who are unfamiliar. A total of six balls are drawn. There are five white balls and one red ball, the 'powerball'. The only way to win the big jackpot is to match all six numbers. The Powerball people have recently increased the number of white balls they use to choose the five aforementioned money makers. There are now 55 white balls in the drum and 42 red powerball contenders in the other drum (let's just refer to that as the 'Thunder Drum'). With these new ball counts in place, the odds of winning the big jackpot are a paltry 1 in 146,107,962.00. As a comparison, the odds of dying on an airline flight are currently 1 in 52.6 million.

The odds of winning the jackpot aren't the only ones to pay attention. Sure, you may not win the big jackpot, but you could still win eight other ways. The best payoff is by matching all five white balls but not the powerball. This is done by 1 in every 3,563,608.83 people. This would get you a nice prize of $200,000. I won't bother with all of the other seven prizes, except to say that you need to at least match the powerball, courtesy of the 'Thunder Drum', or three of the white balls to attain the little prize of $3. All together, you have a 1 in 36.61 chance of winning a prize. Not terrible for a game that's played in 29 of the 50 states.

When the Powerball lottery is discussed at work or with friends, the subject is always directed to 'What will you do with the money if you win?' While 'Anything I damn well please!' come to mind, I have actually given this some real thought. Beyond buying a new home and a new car (read as 'five new cars') for myself, I would start by taking care of my family and friends. After all, they're the ones who have put up with me for the last 29 years, so they deserve to have a bone tossed their way. Next up would be college. While I spent five years in college already, I have yet to attain a degree. That is a big goal of mine that I will accomplish one day. And, while I'm fulfilling dreams, I want to purchase at least part ownership of a major league baseball team, preferably my beloved Philadelphia Phillies.

When answering the 'What will you do with the money if you win?' question, many people say that they don't want their lives to change. They want to go from their strapped bank accounts and dead end jobs to having unfathomable wealth and still have everything be the same. Why? Why wouldn't you want to make your life much, much better. I'm not saying that your life is terrible now, but think of how much easier it could be. I agree that money does not buy happiness, but it could ease up the hurt a little bit. No one says you need to ditch your friends and family in leiu of new ones, just bring them along for the ride.

I really never understand the people who win millions of dollars and then go back to work. I don't care how much you love your job, you're outta there. Go fishing, read a book. Hell, write a book. You can afford to take the time off now. Don't be like Hugo from Lost and worry if people you know will hate you now. You laid down your dollar and took the chance and won. If people start to treat you differently, they weren't really your friends in the first place.

I'm not entirely sure where all of this is coming from. I guess I started to lose my mind at the possibility of winning 340 million dollars. Or, maybe it's that I've spent about an hour typing this entry. Anyway, I should get some sleep now. I want to look good for my picture at lottery headquarters should I be the big winner. If you play, good luck.

I was taking my lunch break last week while at work, when I turned on the TV to find an old episode of the "I Love Lucy" show. (Yes, I realize there are no 'new' episodes of the the "I Love Lucy" show to be watched, but that's not really the point.) Seeing as we do not have cable television at the store, I chose to watch the one program that I could get a decent signal for.

The episode that was airing that day is one that is appropriate for the current times. Lucy is sitting in her apartment when Ethel, the next door neighbor, stops by with the mail. As Lucy is looking at a postcard, Ethel is telling her everything it says. Apparently Ethel has already gone through Lucy's mail and read everything she could. Lucy tells her that it is inappropriate to read other people's mail. She then spots a letter for Ricky from Fort Dix. It being a time of war, she fears the worse. Ethel helps her to open the letter. Enclosed are orders for Ricky to report to Fort Dix that Friday. Lucy is understandably a mess.

Ricky gets home that night to see Lucy crying while knitting. He checks his mail and mentions nothing to Lucy about the orders to report to Fort Dix. Once alone with Fred, Ethel's husband (do you guys seriously need me to tell you who these folks are?), Ricky tells him about the orders. Fred, figuring what the girls figured, asks Ricky if he's been drafted. Ricky informs Fred that he was not drafted, but was playing a show at the base for the troops. He just needed the orders in order to be able to do the show. Fred wonders why he didn't tell Lucy about the papers. Ricky doesn't want to tell Lucy because she'll want to be in the show. Fred and Ricky then decide to do a number together in the show where they'll be marching as soldiers.

Lucy and Ethel both think Ricky and Fred have joined the military and are extremely upset. To console themselves, they decide to go out and buy a hat. This brings me to my point. Oh yeah, to finish up the episode, the boys think the girls are pregnant. They plan parties for each other on the same night. The whole truth comes out, and the show becomes a lesson in communication, or lack there of.

Anyway, back to the hats. I'm too young to remember a time when women would go out and buy a hat to make themselves feel better. Actually, other than the day of the Kentucy Derby, I'm too young to remember a time when women wore hats. I grew up in the 80's, where big hair was the style. Women would put so much hairspray in there hair that most heads were impenetrable to nuclear attack. Perhaps this was the response to the Cuban Missle Crisis and the Cold War. Either way, hats were rarely found.

My mother still mentions a collection of women who still meet in groups called the Red Hat Society. I think I have that right. Regardless of the name, this society harbors back to a simpler time, when women could put on fancy hats and have brunch. When they could talk of their brothers, husbands, sons, and nephews, who had gone off to war or school. They could try to one-up each other. "Your Jimmy is a school teacher. That's nice. My Billy is a doctor."

In these uncertain times of war, I wish women would go back to buying hats. I can say that as someone who has no stake in the hat business. Even if they didn't choose hats, something should bond people together. I've struggled to come up with one example of an item or items that may have already accomplished this feat. I cannot come up with anything.

Whether you support the current war or not, one thing should be consistent. We should be supporting our troops. They are doing nothing but what their job requires of them. They deserve our respect and admiration. Because of them, we can live free and safe. So, do what you can for your country. Buy a hat.

I know it has been about five months since I've posted anything to this blog, but it is time for me to say a few very special words. After having a very long and horrible week at work, God helped to remind me that work is just work. I came home from a child's birthday party to find my beloved cat, Scrappy, dead in the laundry room.

Some people might scoff when they see the title of this posting and then find out that the 'friend' I'm referring to is 'just a cat'. I have very little room in my life for people like that. Scrappy was not 'just a cat'. He was a great friend that never did anything but love me. He never questioned his affection for me, nor did I question my affection for him. Anyone who has ever owned a pet knows how I feel. The only comparison you can draw is that I loved him like a parent loves a child.

Scrappy and I first found each other about eight years ago when a neighbor's sister mentioned that they had been taking care of a stray kitten. They were looking for the kitten to have a good, loving home, and I had just begun to ask my parents if I could get a pet of my own. I really had my heart set on getting a dog, but my father would not agree to it. So, I settled on a cat. They brought the cat to our home, and I was instantly hooked. Many people close to the family do not even know that Scrappy's original name was Storm, after the X-men character. That was what I named him after my mom had told me he was a girl. I hadn't checked myself and took my mother's word for it. After an embarrassing trip to the vet, the name had to be changed.

What I quickly learned about Scrappy was that I may have gotten the body of a cat, but the spirit of a dog. He loved to play fetch and would come when you called him. As the years went on, he began to get rather large. Still, he would come running when he was called and jump in your lap. He had the sweetest face and cutest cry. He was the type of cat that would make anyone smile on their dullest day.

When I moved to Ohio back in 1999, Scrappy moved with me. We were the best of friends. He always greeted me at the door, and not always to get more food. When I was at my apartment, he never left my side. He would even lay on the bathroom floor while I showered if I kept the door open. It was nice to know that I wasn't in anything alone. He would listen to me complain about work. A simple 'meow' would help to calm me down and remind me of what was truly important.

I just turned 29 last week, so it's not that I don't know how life works. I know that pets come and go. It's part of the natural cycle of things. It doesn't make it hurt less. I'm sure I'll own another pet someday, but they'll never replace Scrappy in my heart. He'll always be my little buddy.

To Scrappy, I wish you well and God's speed. You'll always be in my heart. Thanks for always being there for me. I love you.