Rip Snorter's Blog

At least three people in this world now know how to beat the damned lotteries, predict numbers for the next draws.  One of them demonstrated he could do it on this DB last night and provided enough innormation to anyone who is capable of listening to allow them to do it, also.

Where the hell does everything go from here?

Jack

Obviously that PB thing fell flat.  Trying some revisions to see if they help.

Here's my NM Roadrunner prediction for tonight:

5	10	12	27	33

It's 22 minutes until the drawing.  Powerball picks for tonight:

16, 38, 44, 47, 48 + 12
8, 9, 13, 36, 50 + 8
2, 23, 33, 44, 47 + 11
29, 32, 35, 44, 48 + 11
10, 23, 27, 30, 38 + 4
8, 15, 18, 44, 48 + 9
8, 9, 15, 36, 50 + 8
8, 9, 15, 35, 36 + 35
5, 9, 11, 19, 38 + 36

Spent a lot of time on those.  We'll see if time matters, provided it exists.

    

Strange way of thinking:

 

I've encountered it on this DB, but the first time was several years ago from the man in the picture. 

Dean Kindsvater.  Deano.  A man who never saw $50,000 free and clear in his sixty-four years of life.  But he used to scoff at the lottery when the prizes weren't in the high millions.  He'd buy tickets for the big jackpots and wouldn't even check them if nobody won.  "Hell," he'd say, "those small prizes aren't even worth the trouble!"

Here's a guy, never finished high school, left home in his low-teen years, bounced around as a dish washer and short-order cook for years.  Finally, got into the HeeChee jewelry manufacturing business in the early `70s.  Bought an old railroad hotel in Belen, NM, ran a team of illegal aliens out of the top floor until someone discovered Heechee  could be made cheaper in Southeast Asia.

Deano rode through, living in one room of the bottom floor of that hotel the remainder of his life.  Windows all boarded up, top floor a vacant ruin of pigeon droppings and the debris of the life of the man.  He opened a junk shop and sold odds and ends, made up the difference moving a little jade on the side.  Lived downstairs with a propane bottle for heat, extension cords running all over the place from the one outlet, keeping the TV going, the microwave oven for coffee, refrigerator for TV dinners. Cold water sink to wash his utensils.

Three mongrel dogs living there with him.

The only book Dean ever read in his entire life convinced him he could make a living playing Blackjack, which he couldn't.  Visiting him in that hotel the first time, knocking on that door, hearing him coming from the interior coughing, reminded me of a Frankenstein movie, him as Igor.

I was with him once when someone asked him what religion he was.  "Christian.".... "No... I mean what denomination?  Catholic?  Baptist?"

Deano thought about it before he answered.  "Catholic."  But the conversation afterward suggested Deano didn't know the difference between a Catholic and a Baptist.  He'd never stopped to think about it.  To him those churches he never went into were all alike, all the same bunch of folks.  Never entered his mind that it might be something worth thinking about.  Never been in a church in 64 years of life, never paused to wonder anything at all about anything at all, so far as I could tell.  A unique man.

But Deano thought the prizes too small to bother with if the jackpot was just $10 million.  Never even bothered to check if he'd won' the $100K someone had a ticket for in NM, but never claimed.  He had that scorn for the smaller prizes that could have changed his life in common with a lot of people who post on the DB.  He'd probably be shyly flattered, knowing his picture was up here for strangers to see.  Flattered and a little suspicious.  "How's this going to make anyone any money?" he'd ask the universe. 

RIP Deano. 

Hope the prizes are bigger wherever the heck you are these days.

Jack

 

It's snowing again this morning.  Barely had time for the last one to melt off.  We need the moisture, always do, though this has been the first wet winter in recent memory.  The late snows and frosts are providing a proper challenge in the orchard.... apricots budded and blossomed during a break in the weather about three weeks ago, caught the snowfall and hard freeze, partially blossomed again last week and another freeze and snowfall caught them.  That was a week ago.

The apples, plums and pecans were a bit more cunning, held back with those blossoms waiting for more assurance the winter's over, savoring the moisture without trying to get a jump on things.  The grapes put out some tentative runners, but didn't actually commit to anything important.  Those grapes are probably 100 years old.  They've seen a lot of tricky winters here, same as the pecans and apples.  No Johnny-Come-Lately freeze is going to mug them if they can help it.

The Power Ball Lottery continued as a Communist last draw, hanging back trying to pretend it doesn't have a system, but still drifting back toward the patterns enough so I was able to pick 3 of the 6 numbers, but spread over 5 tickets with 14 numbers.  No pay.  Didn't hit the redball.

But yesterday while I was browsing around looking at past draws from different directions I think I finally got a clue how the redballs behave, at least enough to have intermittent success predicting them.  I probably ought to back-test it more, but frankly, the thought repels me.  I've been looking at those numbers too long, too many ways lately.  I think I'll just ride it along and make my tests as I go.

Looking over all those spreadsheets, creating more of them yesterday, I came across some patterns I hadn't noticed before.  Decided to give them a rudimentary test using only a few draws from MM, just for grins.  Posted the skeleton as a prediction for the Tuesday MM draw. 

15, 24, 31, 47, 52 +  50 

I'm thinking if the pattern has any validity 2-3 of those numbers ought to hit if it's a bad day, more if it's a good one.

So.  What the hell is a blog?  I guess this is what one is.

Jack