The CIA says that the population of the United States reached 295,734,134 in July of 2005. I figure it will hit the magic number of 300,000,000 million in the coming months.

I was wondering how to celebrate this event; the day we reach that magic number. (Note: You can learn from the CIA. Go to: http://www.cia.gov/cia/publications/factbook/geos/us.html.)

The CIA said that the population number above is only approximate. I was hoping that I could learn that about 2:17 a.m. on March 13 we would reach the magic number. I realized that was hopeless despite the fact that the CIA gives the birthrate to two significant figures.

I was not to be dissuaded. We could give the 300,000,000th member of our population gifts like they do for the New Year babies.

But how would we ever determine that individual?

I decided it was hopeless. God only would know who it was to be. He sees everything now, front, and back.

You see, I had to know exactly who that person was beforehand. Only then could I be there with the Publishing Clearinghouse prize team to give out the goodies. They know how to do things like that. They gave a million bucks away last year to an older couple right here in our dinky town in Idaho! The sign at our motel stills says, "WELCOME PUBLISHING CLEARINGHOUSE!" The owner just can't take it down.

(Yes, the couple who got the million bucks is now back where they were before they got the loot last year. Folks here generally don't have that kind of dough and when they get it they buy a larger house and give the rest away to their zillion relatives--or to folks that claim they are relatives.)

I sent Saint Peter a postcard to get another interview with God. I got Saint Peter's answer by telephone. Our conservation was as follows:

Saint Peter: "You can't send two cards in the same year."

He hung up!

Devastated, I did the one think I didn't want to do. That was I contacted Xrytspet. As you probably know this yellow-eyed she-devil is from Fanton in G10009845788899990766.

When Xrytspet appeared, Silzrack was with her. I said, "When did you get back, Silzrack?"

He said, "I just came to tell you that you are wasting your time with this population problem. It can't be solved. There are just too many random events for you or us to predict where you should be to deliver prizes when an individual turns the population dial to 300,000,000 or any other exact number."

That was very discouraging.

I looked at Xrytspet.

She shook her head.

Finally, she said, "It will be Rosalina Hernandez from Hermosillo, Mexico. She will arrive in Mesa, Arizona at 1:17 a.m. on March 24, 2005. A green Ford farm truck full of lettuce will dump her at Superstition Mall in front of the Penney's store. She will be wearing a pair of blue jeans and a T-shirt that says, "I WANT MY MAN TO BE A MEAN LEAN MONEY-MAKING MACHINE."

I was elated. It could be done! I said, "I'll be there! I'll be there!"

Xrytspet smiled at me and said, "GOTCHA"

The End

copyrightJohn T. Jones, Ph.D. 2005

John T Jones, Ph.D.

Jones was a vice president of a Fortune 500 company subsidiary having the major responsibility for research and development and certain engineering functions. After he retired, he became editor of an international trade magazine. Jones is Executive Representative of IWS, sellers of Tyler Hicks wealth-success books and kits. He is a direct mail and mail order marketer and operates a dozen websites.

He has written three technical books, four novels (Bull, Revenge on the Mogollon Rim, Bone China, and In No Way Guilty), and many published papers on business, marketing, engineering and other topics. Details on many of these topics can be found at his personal web site.

Jones is a hack poet and amateur landscape painter. He lives in Idaho with his wife of 52 years. He has five children, three in medicine, a lawyer, and a portrait artist. The Jones? have thirty-two talented grandchildren (many with special musical talent and skills), and one great grand child.

Jones is a prolific writer which started when he was an engineering professor at Iowa State University (Go Cyclones!). He doesn?t know how to stop.