Gambling with Dogs

In a previous blog entry,  I

mentioned that me and my

dogs like to play the lottery.

If you missed it, it is archived

as Lottery Tickets, Giant

Redwoods, and Pirates (click

here to read it).

Today's blog is on gambling.

I play the lottery, along with my dogs. The payoff, as I mentioned in a previous blog is only 60%, but it is a convenient game to play (available at most grocery and convenience stores) and, since the profits go primarily for education, every time you lose, some kid gets a text book.

Now if we could only come up with a sure fire way to get the brat to read it.

And I have been know to visit one of the local mini-casino, primarily to play Blackjack, although I have tried almost every available game at least once (the exception in Casino War, perhaps the most stupid casino game ever offered.). I've been to Reservation Casinos as well, and a few visits to bingo parlors (which I will cover in a future blog entry).



Nevada is also the only place

providing legal prostitution

(but not in Las Vegas or Reno,

that would too much fun in one

place, I guess).

For the longest time, Nevada was about the only place in the United States that provided legal gambling (primarily Las Vegas and Reno) on any significant scale. Atlantic city followed in 1987.

Then came the Indians.

The history of  Native American Gaming goes back to the1800s, when the white man was  "acquiring" land, formerly inhabited by Native Americans. The Natives were force on less than desirable land called reservations, and then the government legitimized the acquisitions by signing "treaties" with the Natives.

By "acquiring" I mean the Cavalry rode in and evicted them.

The Natives were "relocated" to reservations, which was land that the white man didn't have much need for.

By "relocated" I mean the Cavalry followed behind with loaded rifles.

The Government then legitimized the acquisitions by signing "Treaties" with the tribes. The natives were "encouraged" to sign as well.

By "encourage" I mean the Cavalry was standing nearby with loaded rifles.

The treaties (no doubt written in a melange of Legalese and Latin) varied from tribe to tribe regarding specifics, but all confirmed (in theory) sovereignty to the individual Nations regarding tribal law..

In short: State law did not apply to the reservations.
Tribes could make there own laws. In theory.

The years pass, and the promises of the white man were mostly found to be as worthless as the paper (treaty) they were written on.

Johnny Clever-as-Weasels

Enter: Johnny Clever-as-Weasels.



Johnny came up with an idea, which he presented to the tribal council: If the reservation was indeed not subject to state law, could they not set up gambling on the reservation? The elders were skeptical, but Johnny was insistent (and persuasive). "Build it" he said "And they (the white man) will come."

And bring their money.

The Cabazon Band of Mission Indians, near Indio, California,  turned to casino operations, opening bingo and poker halls in 1980.

The Sheriff arrived moments after their opening and shut them down.

The Cavalry was unavailable, so the posse was called, and as the Indians were protesting the deputies were arresting.

The tribal elders asked Johnny Clever-as-Weasels if he had any other bright ideas.

He did.

Robert TwoSharks,
attorney-at-law

Enter: Robert TwoSharks, attorney-at-law.

The Cabazon Band sued in federal court (California v. Cabazon Band). The arguments were much lengthier, but summarized they went something like this:

INDIANS: White man's treaty say reservation not subject to state law.

CALIFORNIA: This doesn't mean they can run gambling.

COURTS: Yes, it does. 

The Supreme Court confirmed the ruling. The white man got scalped with his own treaty.

Faster than a jackrabbit on a date, Bingo halls, Poker rooms, and eventually Casinos sprang up on reservations across the country. And as Johnny predicted, they came.

Johnny Clever-as-Weasels used his profits to open Clever-as-Weasels and Associates, a consulting firm that advises Native Americans on how to scalp the white man legally.

One such place, the Wildhorse Resort & Casino, opened up in 1994. The Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Indian Reservation were so eager to start scalping that they actually opened before it was completely built. Located 75 miles south of where I live, it was inevitable, with my interest in gaming, that I would eventually visit.

And I visited sooner than I expected, thanks to my friend Keith.

Shortly before our visit, I taught Keith the proper way to play blackjack. This turned out to be a mistake on my part. His first attempted in the card room earned him $75 (starting with $30) in about an hour. Keith was now under the impression he could do it every time. So, when Wildhorse opened, he wanted to go. In his mind, if he won $45 in a card room, he could make a much more in a full-fledged casino. So he wanted to go, and (sadly) I agreed. It took 75 minute to drive down, the entire time I tried to explain the basics of gambling: bankrolls, probability, house advantage, etc. He appeared to be listening, but repetition is the key to telling Keith anything. There is no such thing as a non-profit casino I was still explaining when we arrived. It was just after midnight, so the place was not overly crowded. As I mentioned, the place had opened before it had been completely built. There was no bar (much to my disappointment), nor were there even any dealers - everything (at this time) was electronic. We went from machine to machine. I explained how to play each game, and Keith invested a few dollars in them before moving on to the next game.  After another 2 hours, Keith was finally understanding the realities of gambling, and decided it was about time for us to head back home. That's when Pocahontas showed up. Pocahontas probably wasn't her name, but shew wasn't wearing a name tag. And quite frankly, even if she was wearing one, I wouldn't have noticed it as there were more interesting things on her to look at. For the first time since we walked in, I had forgotten that I wanted a drink.  "Gentlemen" she said pleasantly. "I believe one of you left credits on one of the machines." She gestured gracefully, like a stewardess indicating the emergency exits, to an empty part of the slots area, opposite to the side we were at. In fact, in the 1/2 hour or so, there was nobody over where she indicated. We should have been suspicious. "It wasn't us" Keith said. "Well, there is no one else. Would you like them?" "Sure" Keith said, and b-lined to the machine.   I followed. Sure enough, there was quarter machine that had two credits on it. This was the first clue that this was a set up. Gamblers do not leave money on a machine, unless they were extremely drunk, and Wildhorse didn't sell alcohol then. The second clue is that the entire time we were playing slots, nobody was in the vicinity of the credited machine.  Casinos have surveillance cameras. And if they have cameras, they might also have microphones, perhaps in conjunction with audio recognition software, listening for key words. So what I suspect is this: The surveillance man was alerted by a flashing red light. He put on his headphones, and listened to what I was telling Keith - the kind of information they did not want people to know. He contacted the head of security, who also listened and confirmed the surveillance man's assessment. He initiated code 9. The systems technician was contacted, and told to credit machine #105 with two plays. The floor manager was contacted and given a description of myself and Keith. Being males, attendant #17 was selected, and sent into action. That's when Pocahontas showed up. "Gentlemen" she said pleasantly. "I believe one of you left credits on one of the machines." She gestured to an empty part of the slots area, opposite to the side we were at. "It wasn't us" Keith said. "Well, there is no one else. Would you like them?" "Sure" Keith said, and b-lined to the machine.   I followed. Sure enough, there was quarter machine that had two credits on it. Keith pushed the [PLAY] button, reels turned (electronically) and symbols fell and... nothing. One more credit, Keith pushed the [PLAY] button again, reels turned (again) and symbols fell (again) and... Suddenly, there was a DING DING sound as bells went off, and the light on top of the machine started flashing. Keith just hit a 600 to 1 payoff and won $150. There was also a WHOOSH sound, at least I heard it. It was the sound of everything I told him being forcefully expelled out his ears. Keith took his ticket to the cashier, collected his money, and then we made our way out to the parking lot. "This was fun" he announced as we were walking out. "We should come here more often." I just shook my head. The Indians would eventually scalp him for several hundred dollars before he wised up and realized he wasn't going to get rich at the casino. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I could the attendant watching us leave. She had an evil smile on her face. It was after 2 a.m. so we would not be able to stop somewhere and get that drink I now so badly needed.



And if you think people were
upset over the Reservation
Gaming, just imagine what
would happen if they tried

the other Nevada style of
entertainment.

The success of Native Gaming caused an issue with many states. And it wasn't over the fact that gambling had been permitted within their borders. It was the fact they couldn't tax it. They weren't getting their share! Legislation was passed, laws modifies, and gambling was introduced in many states and expanded in other. There is now some form of legalized gambling in almost every state.

Only Hawaii and Utah do not have any form of legalized gambling. Hawaii already have sufficient revenues from tourism, and doesn't need the additional revenue from gambling. In Utah, it is because Mormons believe that they have a right to force their morality on others.

Which reminds me of a joke:

Two Native Americans were walking down a beach where the discovered an lamp. Inside the lamp was a genie, which the two men freed from his imprisonment. "Blessings upon thee!" the Genie announced. "I have been imprisoned within the lamp for centuries. As a reward for freeing me, I shall grant thee one wish." "Hmmm..." the older Native contemplated. "Such a thing requires much thought and wisdom." "No it doesn't!" the younger responded. "I wish that all the white men were gone and our lands will belong to us again." "It is granted" the Genie declared, then he disappeared in a flash of light and a puff of smoke. The younger Native smiled proudly, but the elder frowned and shook his head. "You are a dumb-ass" the old man said. "What do you mean? I just did what our people haven't been able to do in 500 years." "Yes, but now who is going to come play in our casinos?"

Gambling with Dogs will be
continued in a future blog entry ...



Dogs Say the Darnedest Things

My dogs sometimes say very funny things. 

The following is a selection of conversations from my dogs:

---

General Tso's Chicken 

While sharing an order of Chinese food:

FREEDOM: This is tasty. What is it?

ME: General Tso's Chicken

MACKY: Why are we eating someone else's food?

ME: We're not. This is our food.

MACKY: But you said it was General Tso's chicken.

ME: That's just what it's called.

MACKY: Why is that?

ME: I don't know. Maybe General Tso was the one who invented it.

SARAH: Seriously? Are we expected to believe that a General has time to cook chicken for his soldiers?

FREEDOM: Maybe he just cooked chicken for the officers.

SARAH: Generals don't cook chicken!

MACKY: Colonel's do.

ME: They do?

MACKY: One does at KFC. Ever heard of Colonel Sanders?

ME: He wasn't a real colonel.

FREEDOM: So, you think maybe General Tso wasn't a real General?

MACKY: Maybe General Tso's was just the name of a fast food restaurant in ancient China.

FREEDOM: Do they have fast food in China?

MACKY: They have fast food everywhere.

FREEDOM: Did they have fast food back then?

MACKY: I bet you they did!

FREEDOM: Do you think they had Taco Bell?

MACKY: Of course not. That is Mexican food.

FREEDOM: Oh, right.

SARAH: You guys are stupid.

---

Wake me up, when October ends.

MACKY: Dad! Quick, come outside.

I set my coffee down and go outside to see what he was excited about. 

ME: What's wrong?

MACKY: Someone has poisoned our trees!

ME: What makes you think that?

MACKY: Look at them! All the leaves are turning brown and falling off.

ME: That's because it's autumn.

MACKY: Their dieing!

ME: No they're not.

MACKY: I bet it was that stupid cat across the street. He is evil.

ME: How do you know this?

MACKY: All cats are evil!



---

Faster than a speeding Greyhound 

After noticing Macky Rae playing outside:

 ME: What is Macky wearing a a dish towel around his neck?

FREEDOM: That's his cape.

ME: Why is he wearing a cape?

FREEDOM: So he can fly, like Underdog.

ME: He thinks if he wears a cape, he can fly?

FREEDOM: Yeah.

ME: Why does he believe that?

FREEDOM: Sarah told him.

The sound of a crash, followed by Macky yelping.

SARAH: Dad! Come quick! Macky just jumped of the porch, and now he is stuck in the rose bush!

---

Answering to a higher power

After giving the dogs each a hot dog:

MACKY: Do you know what Sarah told me?

ME: No, what did she tell you?

MACKY: She told me that hot dogs are made from the icky part of animals, but I did not believe her. Do you know why?

ME: No, why didn't you.

MACKY: Because she ate her hot dog. If it really was made of icky parts, why did she eat hers.

ME: You are a very clever dog. Did she say what "Icky parts" were?

MACKY: She said it was lips and [censored].

Not to self: Talk to Sarah about appropriate vocabulary, especially around Macky Rae.

MACKY: I think she was just trying to be tricky. She just wanted to eat my hot dog too.

ME: Well, don't worry, because I only buy good hot dogs.


Kosher dogs

MACKY: I only like good hot dogs. What kind do you buy?

ME: Hebrew National. They're kosher.

MACKY: What does kosher mean?

ME:  It means they don't contain "icky parts."

MACKY: That is good.

ME: Their motto is "No ifs, ands, or buts."

MACKY: Good, because I do not want to eat butts.

---

Every Parent's Nightmare

At 3am:

MACKY: Dad. Sorry to wake you.
Do we own a fire extinguisher?



So, where does the hour go?

I do not like to fly.

Which is odd when you know that I was in the Air Force, but as it turns out many Air Force jobs require little (if any) flying. I repaired radios.

But I don't like to fly, for a variety of reasons:

The main reason is I don't want to die in an airline crash. Or worse yet, survive a crash only to live the rest of my life horribly mangled and disfigured. Statistically speaking, one is more likely to die in an auto accident, but I have never heard of an auto wreck that occurred because it fell 30,000 feet.

I do not understand completely what makes an airplane stay aloft. I know basic aerodynamics, that more air under the wing makes it go up, etc. But as far as I am concerned, it is all magic. Magic requires belief, and if I think about it too hard, I will realize that it can't work and "poof" the plan drops out of the sky. I think this is the #1 cause of jet crashes - someone on board realized that planes should not be able to fly.

 Other reasons I dislike flying are:

Airplane food sucks. I was forced to eat C-rations, and the first versions of MREs, and quite frankly I would prefer that the stewardess hand out MREs instead of the traditional in-flight meal. Once, I was serve breakfast (an omelet) on an airline that was actually quite good. I panicked, as I thought God had decided to crash the plane, and this was His way of making it up to me. The plane landed safely, however, and I have yet to get another tasty airline meal.

Another thing that bothers me is the pre-takeoff announcement. "In the unlikely event of a water landing, your seat cushion also serves as a flotation device." Unlikely? We are flying over the Rockies! My question is: does the seat cushion also serve as a sled? as I want to slide down the mountain all the way into Denver, where I will board a Greyhound bus to complete my journey, because you do not want to get trapped in the mountains after a plane crash - the other passengers will try to eat you in order to survive!

Twilight Zone:
Nightmare at 20,000 Feet

Gremlins! Remember that Twilight Zone episode (with William Shatner) were the gremlin stated to tear up the engine? Bob Wilson ( Shatner) shoots it with a pistol? How do we know gremlins aren't real?

Turbulence: You are flying smoothly, then suddenly the plane shakes.  The pilot comes on and says "we're sorry, but we are experience a bit of turbulence."

A bit? In California, they measure shaking like this on the Richter scale! If you were driving and you car started to shake like this, you would pull over immediately, as your car was probably about to fall apart. Mr. Shatner, please check to see if another gremlin appeared.

And another thing I dislike about flying is Time Zones. I take a flight from Seattle to Salt Lake City.The plane leaves at noon, and arrives in Salt Lake City an hour. It should be one-thirty (pm), but its not - It's two-thirty. I have lost an hour.

Returning from SLC (leaving at noon), flying for an hour and a half, and arriving at SEA, it is not one-thirty, or two-thirty, but twelve thirty. I got my hour back. But between the two flights, where did the hour go? Who took it?

One's first thought is that it is the airline, but that can't be the case. I once took a Delta flight to Salt Lake City, but returned on United, and still got my hour back. My luggage was missing, but the hour was returned. Obviously, the airlines cannot be trusted with the hours (or my luggage, which wound up in Las Vegas).

The next logical guess would be the FAA, but I have been told that an identical phenomena occurs when riding the train (Amtrak) and the buses (Greyhound), so a more logical answer would be the Department of Transportation (DOT). However, I have not been able to confirm this, as there is nothing on their website, nor have I received a reply to my email inquiry, so the mystery remains.

So where does the hour go? I think it gets taken shortly after takeoff, or (in when flying the opposite direction) gets returned shortly before landing. But what about when you fly another airline, or travel to another destination (such as Salt Lake City to San Francisco)? How does the hour get back to you?

Macky Rae, my youngest dog, has a hypothesis that you don't get the exact same "hour" back, and it has merit. When you withdraw money (cash) from your checking account, you don't get the exact same bills as when you originally deposited the money (cash), but you don't care because one dollar bill works as well as another. Macky Rae thinks it's the same with hours.

So when you fly westward across Time Zones, you get an hour back, one that may have just been collected by someone flying eastward. But you don't care because one hour works as well as another.

The Daylight Savings Time Conspiracy

Another thing that bothers me, similar to the time zone thing is Daylight Savings Time (DST) - spring forward and fall back . Every spring the clocks are set ahead one hour, so at 2 am, it is suddenly 3. We lose an hour. But in the fall, the process is reversed, and the hour comes back.

Who came up with this?

We know from his writings

that Franklin had a sense

of humor. I believe that it is

possible that his proposal

was a joke on the French.

According to Macky Rae (my youngest dog) it was Benjamin Franklin. He looked it up on Wikipedia. During his time as the American envoy to France, he anonymously published a letter suggesting that the French people could economize on candles by rising earlier to use morning sunlight.

The problem is that you don't actually create an extra hour of sunlight. The extra hour of light in the morning means an hour less in the evenings, and any candles that are saved in the morning are going to used in the evening.

Daylight Savings Time was first implemented during the First Word War, and then again during the Second. Apparently, we needed to conserve candles as part of the war effort. After the war, it was more or less optional for the states to use Daylight Savings, but this got confusing so the government (DOT) standardized it.

Arizona and Hawaii do not participate in Daylight Savings, and I believe the reason for this is that these state receive an abundance of daylight and the people in these states do not feel a need to create more.

Either that, or they figured out that DST was  joke on the French.

Sadly, during fall back, when we gain

an hour, the bars and taverns do not

allow an extra hour of drinking - which,

in my humble opinion, would be one of

the best aspects of the whole Daylight

Savings Time system.

So in the spring, we spring forward and set the clocks ahead one hour (thus we "lose" an hour), but in the fall, we fall back and set the clocks back, regaining the lost hour.

But, where does the hour go? And between spring forward and fall back, where is the hour?

If, as I have hypothesised, the Government (DOT) is involved, it can be reasonably assumed that the hours are taken to a government facility, and stored in a warehouse.

I'm not sure how much physical space an hour takes up, probably not much, but when you consider the number of hours collected, it can be assumed that a large amount of space is required. The current population of the United States is approximately 316 million people. Subtract 6.5 million Arizonans and 1.4 million Hawaiians, that leave 308 million hours - 35,160 years! This will require massive space, so we can assume there is not one warehouse, but several. And probably the government has multiple locations across the country.

Another question I have is what happens to the hour for people who die between spring forward and fall back?

Last year, nearly two and one-half million people died last year, half of the between spring forward and fall back. Excluding those who died in Arizona and Hawaii, this comes to roughly 1.2 million people who died and did not get their hour back. 1.2 million hours - this works out to almost 138 years. What happens to these hours? If the government is involved (as I suspect), probably nothing. The hours just remain in the government warehouse(s), collecting dust (if hours can actually collect dust). 138 years, and this is for 2012! DST has been going on for decades, can you imagine how many years have been accumulating? Centuries!

What is done with these hours?

If the government is involved (as I suspect), probably nothing. The can't be returned to their owners, nor are they given to the next of kin. The hours probably just remain in the government warehouse(s), collecting dust (if hours can actually collect dust). 138 years, and this is for 2012! DST has been going on for decades, can you imagine how many years have been accumulating? Centuries!

Wasted time (pun not intended).

Instead of just laying around, these hours should be put to good use, and I have an idea of what the government could do with all the un-returned hours: Ambulances!

You hear about it, or see it on TV shows, where the EMTs arrive, render aid, and transport the patient only to have him (or her) die en route to the hospital. "He would have made it" the doctors say "if he had only arrived a few minutes sooner."

If the EMTs had a surplus hour on had in the ambulance, they could have opened it up on the patient just before he slipped away, and he (or she) would have had plenty of time to get to the hospital.

Hell, the EMTs could even stop by Starbucks for a grande raspberry mocha (other other beverage of choice) and still have time to get the victim to the hospital!



In the military fall back means to temporarily retreat
and regroup around a more dependable position.