I admit it.
I am a sucker for the occasional wager on an underdog or any bet with a high return.
For example, in all the crap games I’ve played. Invariably, the formula repeated itself every time I was rolling dice: I start with a medium-sized (100.00) bet on the Pass Line.
If it hits, double it up.
If not, place a 500.00 bet on the Pass Line again.
Take the longest odds they give you on the number. That goes for ANY gambling game that pays odds.
It is their money the casino is investing with these extra little “perks” because the “odds” say you will spend more money there, and (usually) lose at the casino. If you lose (or win) enough, you don’t have to worry about accommodations. The house will give you a Player’s Suite with every intention of getting you to continue gambling there.
I only won that much once.
At the casino and hotel that was known as The Aladdin. I cashed out up to the tune of eighty-eight large. That’s after paying like, 30% in Federal taxes.
I could give a shit. I was so full of myself that I thought it was gonna be like Cocoon, and I would never get sick, never get old, and never die.
I pissed away half of it living like Diamond Jim Brady. At least I got something tangible out of it. I bought a house with the remaining sum which I ended up keeping as an income-producer until I sold it in 1986.
The things we do. Here is the preface for the letter G and the emotion will be guilt. I will print the short-short story that illustrates guilt in tomorrow’s blog.
Oh yeah, here is the song I was practicing for my gig:
Everyone is guilty. It’s just a matter of what.
Raise your hand if you throw out mailers for shopping and coupons. Raise your hand if you ever cursed (either out loud or to yourself) at some driver unknown to you. I used to be the world’s worst driver. For some reason, and I do not know why or where I picked up the poor habit, but I used to be very proprietary of the roadway on which I was traveling. Not in MY lane asshole! To the point where you could not fit a single sheet of paper between my front bumper and the rear bumper of the unfortunate person who happened to be driving in front of me.
Who’s the asshole now?
Me, of course, is the answer.
Now, age, and several points against my driver’s license later, have made me much more considerate and tolerant. The direction driving as an activity is taking, is a little weird for me. Driverless cars. In a society where there is already little to NO ACCOUNTABILITY, this isn’t exactly helping. I have no doubt they are already developing strategies in preparation of the impending wave of legal problems. By the time this book is printed (if ever), I am sure there will be an even crazier idea injected into the mainstream. Like flying cars. How awesome would that be?
Innocence is much easier to pull off than guilt. For innocence, if you truly are innocent, you don’t have to do a thing. You don’t have to act innocent; you either are or you are not. Doesn’t it seem simple enough? How have the courts and government managed to bastardize the concepts of guilt and innocence to the point where no one believes there is such a thing as justice for all? Liberty? Freedom?
Yes, we are at liberty and free to color within the lines of this cartoon we call The United States of America.