Number 99 Is Magical To December Grad

It;s hard to comprehend that today - September 9, or 9/9 to all of you math and astrology majors - is the 99th day until December graduation.

Including weekends.

How's that for a psychic number cruncher?

Go ahead, all of you non-believers. Pull out your calendars. Count up the days leading to that mystical, magical date: December 17, 1988.

It's true.

Ninety-nine days remaining as a Chippewa.

Ninety-nine nights left to study Broadcast Law.

Ninety-nine graveyard shifts studying for my other classes.

Ninety-nine afternoons catching power naps because of those late-night and overnight cram sessions.

Such a powerful number, 99 is.

Of course, a lot of things can happen in the time I have left at Central.

I could win the Lotto. I might fall madly in love with a beautiful girl. A beautiful girl might fall in love with me - not "madly," but "in love." This will suffice.

Maybe some big-wig from NBC will read this column and then call me up, saying, "Paul, we want you to be our substitute on the Letterman show!"

Perhaps I'll pass Broadcast Law.

Ninety-nine.

When you watch reruns of Get Smart!, who is Maxwell Smart's assistant/wife?

You got it, Agent 99.

It;s times like these that I wish I knew an astrologer; you know, that I had my own personal forecaster. Imagine the power of being able to predict the future, of seeing your destiny.

Of advertising in The National Enquirer.

Why, I could call up my own star gazer and get the line on the Tigers. Did they win the World Series next month? (I know that reads kind of strange, but we're talking about the future here.)

How about the Olympics? A conversation like this could take place:

Paul: "Hello, Ms. Space Scholar"
Astro Person: "What do you want, Mr. Sixth-Year Freshman?"
Paul: "I kind of wanted to know how our favorite Chippewa, Dan Majerle, will do against the rest of the field in Seoul."
Astro: "Well, let me see." (I hear the sound of papers shuffling, some muffled coughs.) "Ah, here we are. Majerle will score 34 points against the Yugoslavians, 28 against the Soviets, and 37 against Eastern Michigan."
Paul: "Eastern?"
Star Person: "Hold on." (More shuffling.) "Hmmm, that must be a typo. I'll get back to you. When's the deadline?"

You get the picture.

Or how about politics? This is an election year. Nancy Reagan uses an astrologer, and she's still First Lady. Stranger things have happened.

I could start sending Vegas some serious statistics on how George Bush will do against Michael Dukakis in the all-important precinct of Mount Pleasant. If the tide were to turn by in Dukakis' direction by only two percent, the entire GOP could become disoriented, thereby creating a landslide across the United States in favor of the Democratic Party. With help from my astrologer, I could ease tensions before they get out of synch.

All of this because of that silly little number, 99.

Wayne Gretzky wore 99 for the Edmonton Gretzkys. Then he got married, traded, and is no longer allowed to enter Canada without an American passport. He's the most prolific scorer in the National Hockey League.

The Great Number 99.

So, say what you want. Satan worshippers may believe in 666, but I'm keeping track of that psychic 99.

That is, until tomorrow, when there are only 98 days left until graduation.

Boy, I hope I pass Broadcast Law.

This article originally appeared in Central Michigan Life.