As you read this, you probably already know that I’ve won the $550 million Powerball lottery. There is a chance, of course, that I did not. That’s ridiculous, but I have to say it. I’m a very positive person, and have already started a list of things I’m going to do with the money.

I’m not sure exactly how much I will actually receive after taxes, but I’m pretty sure it will be enormous, somewhere around $250 million and place me in that much talked about upper 1 percent. I’m happy with that.

I’m amused by people who say the money will not change them. Are you kidding? Money changes everything. That’s why it’s called money.

I will, of course, upon being notified that the check is in the mail, sit down with my lawyers, tax accountants and investment advisers.

I will be in touch with Gov. Mitt Romney and other officials in Bain Capital as soon as I can get their emails and personal cellphone numbers. If the president can have him to lunch, I can ask him for tips.

Whom would you ask? Joe The Plumber? Someone in the tea party? Yeah. Right. I also want to know how fast I can get most of this cash in a Cayman Islands bank.

I will be in touch with Sheldon Adelson in Las Vegas and the wonderful Koch Brothers. These guys took a beating from us during the election, and I would like to sit down with these sweet boys, and personally apologize for calling them names on Facebook, and see if we can work something out, as in advice.

I know that you’re thinking old J.P. Devine has abandoned his liberal principles. Let’s get that straight. Principles are fine when you’re broke, when you’re freelance writing for a newspaper for coffee and doughnut money, and working for she, who makes me clean the bathroom three times a week.

But when you’re carrying that diamond-studded American Express card in your pocket, and dining with Bill Gates and scuba diving with Warren Buffett, you can’t afford to be dragging some outdated principle around your ankles like an electronic monitoring bracelet everywhere you go. Get real.

Don’t get me wrong. Just because I’m going to be dining with the 1 percent doesn’t mean I’m switching parties. Hillary can count on me for a very large donation in 2016. An ambassadorship will be discussed.

Another thing, and let me make this as clear as the crystal on my new Patek Phillippe. Just because I friended you on that Facebook page, or accepted your “friend” appeal, fuggidaboudit. That time suck is sooooo yesterday.

And just because we shared cooking tips and kitty-cat pictures at 1 in the morning, doesn’t really make us friends. You all know that’s just a kid thing to pass the time because Letterman is in reruns.

Most of you I never really liked. Just because I tapped that like button doesn’t make us buddies. That’s just silly. Friends are fun when you’re down and out and there’s nothing on HBO to watch and your Starbucks card has run out, and some of you have really cool summer camps and barbecues to attend. But get real. There’s not going to be any time for all of that from now on. As soon as the check clears, the Devines will be private-jetting over to Paris to arrange our daughter’s wedding at Notre Dame. Need to check to see if the Pope can officiate.

Goodbye, 47 percenters, farewell Taco Bell, orange chicken in the food court at the mall. Goodbye, waiting for the snowplow-man to come so we can get a table at Applebee’s.

It’s getting dark, and I have to be getting down to the market to play my numbers. Now, where did I put that number slip? It was here this morning. Did I leave it in the car?

J.P. Devine is a Waterville writer.

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