$713 Million, Nine Fraternity Brothers, and a $4 Return on Investment
Good morning, fellow dreamers, degenerates, and future owners of questionable luxury properties!
This morning, before I even checked our fraternity lottery pool tickets, I saw that Powerball had climbed to $713 million.
Naturally, my first thought was, "Well, this could get interesting!"
My second thought was, "I wonder how badly we got our asses kicked in the last drawing."
Welcome to the exciting world of fraternity lottery pool management, where dreams are unlimited, spreadsheets are plentiful, and the return on investment can be downright embarrassing.
Nine Guys. $180. Two Games. One Dream.
Here's the current breakdown of our little financial operation:
9 fraternity brothers
$20 per person
$180 total
$90 allocated to Powerball
$90 allocated to Mega Millions
We're diversifying our portfolio, naturally.
Some people invest in stocks, bonds, and real estate. We invest in little slips of paper that let us fantasize about never attending another work meeting.
And, of course, I've been keeping everyone informed with spreadsheets, odds, payouts, and the occasional reminder that we're statistically more likely to remain exactly where we are financially.
But hey, somebody has to win eventually, right?
Please don't send me the mathematical explanation.
The Moment of Truth
After seeing that $713 million jackpot, I finally checked our tickets.
Drumroll, please!
🥁🥁🥁
Out of the $90 we spent on game tickets, we won a whopping $4.
FOUR. DOLLARS.
That's a return of approximately 4.44% on the $90 spent.
Wall Street, eat your heart out!
At this rate, we'll be able to afford a yacht sometime around the year 3026.
The good news? We didn't lose every single dollar.
The bad news? Our $4 victory won’t get us a reservation at a Michelin-starred restaurant.
I suppose we could reinvest the winnings, buy a celebratory coffee, or put it toward the down payment on our future bologna-filled swimming pool.
I'm leaning toward the pool.
Naturally, I Asked Them to Double Down
So what did I do after discovering our magnificent $4 windfall?
Did I resign as Lottery Pool Commissioner?
Did I announce that the experiment had failed?
Did I throw my spreadsheets into the nearest recycling bin?
Absolutely not!
I asked the guys to double down with another $20 per person for Wednesday's drawing.
Because apparently, nine fraternity brothers and a combined $180 weren't enough to convince the universe to cooperate.
We're going back for another round!
This is either perseverance, a questionable financial strategy, or evidence that I should never be allowed to manage a casino.
I'll let you decide.
The Fraternity Retirement Plan
At this point, our retirement strategy consists of three simple steps:
Buy lottery tickets.
Check the numbers.
Pretend the next drawing is the one that changes everything.
If we actually hit that $713 million jackpot, I'll have to update the spreadsheets, calculate everyone's share, and figure out how much money we can spend on ridiculous things before someone suggests we act like responsible adults.
Responsible adults?
In this fraternity?
Let's not get carried away.
For now, we're nine guys, a few lottery tickets, and a $4 victory that probably won't make the history books.
But Wednesday is another drawing, another opportunity, and another chance to turn our spreadsheets into America's most unnecessary financial documents.
Stay tuned. The Lottery Commissioner isn’t ready to surrender his clipboard yet.
And if we win big, remember: I was the guy buying the tickets, tracking the numbers, and keeping everyone organized.
I'm sure the guys will remember that.
I'm also sure I'll have another spreadsheet ready.
The West Side of Harlem Is Back in the Lottery Game
Last round, ten of us put in $20 each, giving the pool $200. We spent $100 on each game and came away with $11 in winnings—that’s $1.10 per person.
A modest return, sure. But we’ve made it through 50 years, decades of brotherhood, and enough City College stories to fill the whole Apollo. Eleven dollars? That’s practically a victory lap.
Now we’re back with nine participants and $180 in the pool. We’re putting $90 into each game: 18 Mega Millions tickets and 45 Powerball tickets. The jackpots are looking mighty tempting, and the brothers are feeling lucky.
We’re City College brothers who lived on the West Side of Harlem: seasoned, sharp, and just reckless enough to believe the next ticket could change everything. First order of business: buy back the old fraternity house. Then we’ll add something completely unexpected inside—perhaps a secret bowling alley, a speakeasy behind the bookcase, or a tiny indoor lagoon for absolutely no practical reason. The historic exterior stays true to its roots; all the madness happens indoors.
Either way, the pool is in, the numbers are picked, and the brotherhood is dreaming big.
West Side of Harlem, hold on to your hats. We’re at it again.
We’re at It Again
The last pool won $4. Not exactly a life-changing haul, but a win is a win—and after taxes, we’ll see what’s left. The Niel tax applies, after all.
Now there’s $1.2 billion on the table, and we’re back in the game. Maybe this is the one that turns a few lucky numbers into a very different kind of group chat.
We know the odds. We know the last result. And still, here we are: dreaming big, pooling our hopes, and giving it another shot.
We’re at it again.
Thirty Years of Talking Crap—and Showing Up
Most Tuesdays and Fridays, a core group of us guys gets together on Zoom. If you’re picturing thoughtful discussions, mature reflection, and dignified conversation… you’ve got the wrong Zoom.
Most nights, we talk crap about each other.
For some of us, this started more than 30 years ago. And apparently, we still have material.
Sure, there are moments when we get serious. We talk about life, the hard stuff, and whatever somebody is going through. But most of the time, these calls are a chance to escape life's pressures and just have fun. For a little while, we get to laugh with people who knew us long before our current responsibilities did.
Last night, though, something happened that made me appreciate these friendships a little differently.
A few of the guys go to New York Comic Con every year. It’s an event. It’s expensive. It’s crowded. I’ve never been, but I’ve seen the pictures, and the costumes are clearly part of the experience. That’s cosplay, for anyone unfamiliar: dressing up as a character from a comic, movie, game, or whatever world you want to step into.
One of our guys is going this year with his 15-year-old son. Their first time.
Naturally, we asked if he was going to cosplay.
He was against the idea.
Naturally, that did not end the discussion.
With AI being what it is, I used his likeness and his son’s to put together some costume suggestions. Real possibilities, presented in a PowerPoint. Because apparently, this is what decades of friendship have prepared me for.
He looked through it with his son.
Then his son wanted to join our Zoom.
His dad told him to go away.
Now, before anyone gets caught up in that last part, let’s appreciate what happened: a 15-year-old wanted to hang out with us.
Us.
I took two things away from that.
First, we’re still cool enough for a teenager to want in. Or we act like 15-year-olds often enough that he recognized his people.
Some of the time, anyway.
Okay. Most of the time.
But the second thing stayed with me.
He got a glimpse of what a lasting friendship can look like. A group of guys who, across time, distance, race, and all the ways life can pull people apart, still make room for each other.
We weren’t trying to teach him anything. We were doing what we always do: making fun of one another, laughing, and showing up. Yet somewhere in that, he saw something he wanted to be part of.
That means a lot.
Friendships like these don’t sustain themselves. People get busy. Priorities change. Life gets complicated. Keeping a connection takes effort, even when that effort looks like logging onto Zoom to hear the same guy tell the same ridiculous story again.
It isn’t always easy. And I know what we have is rare.
I hope his son finds his own version of it. People he can grow up with and grow older with. People who will listen when life gets heavy—and give him a hard time when he needs a laugh.
And to everyone reading this, I hope you already have friends like that. If you don’t, I hope you find them.
Thirty years from now, may you still be showing up for each other.
And still have plenty of crap to talk.
From Tau Epsilon Phi to Ska: My Fraternity Brother Goon Is Still Making Noise
I’ve forgotten some things from college.
Classes. Professors. What I was supposed to be studying. And probably more than a few nights that are better left in the 1980s.
But I haven’t forgotten my fraternity brothers.
Back at The City College of New York, I was a member of Tau Epsilon Phi, Phi Chi Chapter. Like any respectable fraternity, we had pledge names—and some were considerably more memorable than others.
One of my fraternity brothers received the distinguished, dignified, and undoubtedly well-deserved pledge name:
Alice the Goon.
I’ve always just called him Goon.
All these years later, Goon is still making noise—except now people actually want to hear it.
He’s part of The Phensic, a ska band.
And somehow, that seems completely appropriate.
If you had asked me back during my CCNY days what someone named Alice the Goon would be doing decades later, playing in a ska band probably would have made my Top 10.
Maybe even the Top 5.
If you’re into ska, check out The Phensic. And if you’re not familiar with ska, this might be a good excuse to discover something different.
You can listen to their music here:
One thing I appreciate more as I get older is looking back at the people I knew during those college years and seeing where life took us all.
We’re older.
Hopefully, we’re wiser.
The hair situation has definitely changed for some of us. In my case, I decided hair was apparently an unnecessary luxury.
But those fraternity memories and connections are still there.
So, from one Tau Epsilon Phi, Chi Chapter brother to another:
Keep making noise, Goon.
And if you like ska—or want to hear what one of my fraternity brothers has been up to—check out The Phensic!