Big Prime and Michael Jordan
Mime-Version: 1.0 (NeXT Mail 3.3 v118.2)
From: Peter Langston <psl>
Date: Wed, 28 Jan 98 16:40:42 -0800
Subject: Big Prime and Michael Jordan
Forwarded-by: "Keith E. Sullivan" <KSullivan@worldnet.att.net>
LARGEST PRIME NUMBER DISCOVERED
CHICAGO, IL (DWPI) -- The International Science Advisory Board has
officially recognized the discovery of the largest known prime number. The
number, discovered last November by Nike corporate accountant Felix
Goldstein, was over fifty times larger than the prime number discovered by
Stanford University researchers just two years ago. Says Goldstein, "I was
trying to divide Michael Jordan's liquid capital evenly among his
investments, and I found that it just couldn't be done." The number has
been licensed by Nike under a two year contract, and a line of "Air Felix"
high performance pocket protectors and calculators should be on shelves in
time for the Christmas shopping season.
Reported by John Voigt
The Daily Weekly, October 1, 1997 <firstname.lastname@example.org>
By Tony Kornheiser, The Washington Post, Sunday, April 27, 1997
It's never too early to plan your summer vacation, and I've got mine.
I'm going to Michael Jordan's Senior Flight School. It's a three-day
basketball camp for people over 35 in Las Vegas in August.
I picked it over a few other intriguing adult camps.
Big Boris Yeltsin's White Lightning Siberian Lost Weekend. The brochure
promises: Wodka and Women ... Go shot for shot with the Bo-Man. Get
hammered and sickled on the vast Russian steppes -- then tumble down the
steppes into a refreshing, naturally heated Chernobyl hot tub!
Jack Kevorkian's Go Gently Into That Good Night Getaway. Relax with Dr.
Jack for three cool days and one long night. Get laid back, then get laid
down... We can arrange for a convenient checkout time.
Marshall Applewhite's See You in September or Thereabouts Interplanetary
Holiday Journey. Find your life shrouded in confusion? Get ready for the
New Age with computer training... Come celibate with us! Dance to the
hypnotic music of Bo and Peep and Do and Ti, with special guests Hale Bopp
and the Comets. One free pair of Nikes for each camper. (Unfortunately,
this camp recently "shed its container.")
So I'm going to Michael Jordan's camp. Which actually does exist.
My only problem is it costs $15,000.
"Check only -- No credit cards," the brochure says.
My friend Gino says it's worth it. He says that having the opportunity to
play basketball with Michael Jordan "is like having a catch with Babe Ruth."
"I doubt it," I said. "I imagine I'd be waiting a long time for the Babe
to throw the ball back to me."
Anyway, I'm going to raise the $15,000 even if I have to borrow it from Bob
And I'm going to fly to Vegas and take part in this camp with 71 other
campers who have this kind of money: mainly geezing Baby Boomer
orthodontists, plastic surgeons, tax accountants, divorce lawyers and
proctologists between 5 feet 8 and 5-11, most of whom will have back hair
and be named "Bernie."
I have the Friday, Aug. 29, camp schedule in front of me. It starts with
one full hour for breakfast, which is good, because for $15,000 I want
enough time for a second cup of coffee and a cigar -- hey, it's Vegas. Then
we go take pictures with Michael, which is real good, because for $15,000
I want some proof that Michael Jordan and I were actually together at the
(I'll get three pictures with Michael. One shot will be taken "at the
Welcoming Cocktail Party." One will be "with team and coach." And one will
be taken "with camp uniform on." I'm looking forward to the picture at the
cocktail party, because I can wear normal clothing. But I am not looking
forward to pictures with my "camp uniform" on. At my age I would rather be
caught in a Turkish steam bath with Sammy "The Bull" Gravano than be
photographed in gym shorts and a T-shirt so I look like that dork Richard
Next on the schedule is a "Lecture by Michael Jordan." I'm hoping he plays
against type, and he shares his thoughts on "Sane Nuclear Policy in the
Post-Communist Global Village." Exhausted by mental gymnastics, we move to
a calisthenics session, in which a bunch of fat middle-aged guys who look
alarmingly like Newman on "Seinfeld" shoot some threes, then plop down on
the court to talk about what they want for lunch.
There's a free-throw session after that, to determine the camp champion,
who, presumably, gets some fabulous prize -- like an hour with a Vegas
showgirl. Then, we spend 30 minutes at basketball practice. But only 30
minutes, because nobody wants to overdo the athletic aspect of camp. After
that, we eat lunch, because, after all, we haven't eaten in, what, three
hours? And for $15,000 it better not be a bologna sandwich and a carton of
milk. Then we hear a couple of lectures from famous coaches and NBA
referees, assuming you can drag these guys away from the slot machines.
I know you worry that at my age I could drop dead guarding Michael Jordan
under a hot Las Vegas sun. Well, don't. Michael doesn't actually play.
But a spokesman for Michael says, "He'll be out on the court with the
campers." So if I do drop dead guarding one of the Bernies, at least
Michael will be nearby. And if I need a doctor, perhaps Dr. Julius Erving
will be on call.
And if I live, look at what I'll get:
A one-hour "professionally done" camp video and a bag filled with "souvenir
items from Michael Jordan's corporate partners." (I can really use a pair
of Hanes underpants, and a Filet o' Fish sandwich from McDonald's. They
can keep that new Michael Jordan cologne that smells like bug bomb, though.)
But the biggest perk of all is that as a camper I "can bring a guest who
will be able to observe camps and attend the Welcoming Cocktail Party and
our Closing Ceremony Brunch." This is an almost unparalleled opportunity
to show off. It's like being able to bring King Hussein to a bar mitzvah.
(As my "guest" I'm thinking of bringing a 1,500 pound sow from a 4-H show,
just to shake things up.)
Obviously, the only reason to attend Michael Jordan Basketball Camp is to
come back with stories to tell about "me and Mike." Those are the magic
words. You get to say to anybody and everybody, "So Michael Jordan and I
were standing at the foul line, and Mike turns to me and he says..."
You get that and three nights in Vegas for $15,000.
A night in the Lincoln Bedroom is $150,000.
I'm going with Mike.
(c) Copyright 1997 The Washington Post Company
© 1998 Peter Langston