Top Ten Reasons to Hate Slot Machines

Here are the top ten reasons to hate slot machines:

10. They tend to attract large swarms of zombified patrons who stumble through the area and buzz about on motorized scooters.

9. They produce a distracting cacophony of dinging bells and ringing sirens.

8. After extended exposure to the noise, players begin to find it soothing and even an attractive reason to sit down.

7. The faint smell of decay.

6. They advertise themselves with large rolling progressive jackpots which belie the enormous number of life savings they have stolen.

5. Frequent player cards offer rooms, meals, and gift shop trinkets in order to deceive a loser into feeling like a winner.

4. It is easy to think their cherries, bonus rounds, and smiling Elvis faces present no real threat.

3. They are so entirely hypnotic. Eventually, players only notice the world with vague grunts and moans.

2. The machines attach themselves to person's brain so completely that a player cannot even recognize friends and family. You soon lose touch with everything else in the world...even zombies gnawing on your skull.

1. After playing for awhile, a nice warm bowl of brains begins to sound good.

Monkey Gambling

A few years ago, I met someone that swore she was “good at roulette.” When I asked what she meant, she (surprise!) couldn’t explain her special skill. Roulette can be a nice adrenaline rush as that little white ball dink…dink…dinks its way to a home, but it requires about as much skill to play as falling down the stairs (as well as some of the worst odds in the casino). The only way to beat the game involves cheating with a loaded ball, rigged wheel, or past posting. A large statistical analysis to determine biases in certain wheels is the only way to do it without cheating. Can knowing which bet on a roulette table offers the least house edge be considered a skill? If so, then the best roulette player in the world is the one that never plays. It short, there is no strategy in the game, hence, no skill. If you can work gravity, then you can play roulette about as well as anyone else.

“Monkey gambling” is a term which refers to games that have no strategy or skill component to them; a monkey has as good a chance of victory as the best player in the world. Even the basic physical mechanics of a game like roulette could be easily mastered by our hirsute cousins; pick up chip, move arm forward, and drop chip: done. A monkey could literally play the game as well as Stephen Hawking. The purest form of “monkey gambling” in a casino is the slot machine. Even pulling a handle is too much brain activity for slots players, so most machines now offer buttons for the convenience of their zombified patrons.

“Computer gambling” is at the opposite end of the spectrum from monkey gambling. This term refers to games that offer choices during play, and therefore contain elements of genuine strategy, but only one correct move. Blackjack is a computer gambling game because at any given time, there is only one best move. Given the composition of cards in the discard rack, slight variations from basic strategy are made to determine whether standing, hitting, splitting, doubling, or even insurance (a bad idea nearly 100% of the time) is the best play. The best blackjack player in the world could only be as good as a computer.

Poker is neither monkey nor computer gambling, although I’ve seen players who try each style. A couple years ago, animal trainers tried to enter a monkey in the World Series of Poker (see above). They took their chimp on television to demonstrate how it could really play poker; even though it could lift the cards and move the chips, it could not protect its hand, avoid string betting, or determine the strength of its cards. While any player at the monkey’s table would certainly beat the beast, organizers rightly refused to let the handlers enter the animal in the event. On the flipside, top computer designers have built machines good enough at poker to beat most amateur players. However, when pitted against professional poker players, the most sophisticated poker machine in the world still loses to the power of human imagination.

Top poker pro, Eric Seidel, captures this majestical element of the poker:

Imagination is at the heart of the game. Just as there is no right way to write a song or paint a picture, there is no right way to play poker. The best players are experimenting and adjusting all the time. The beauty of the game lies in this ever-shifting landscape, and it keeps us interested each time we sit down.

Now I’d like to see a computer, or even a thousand monkeys at a thousand typewriters, come up with that.

How to Be Drunk in a Casino

While I never advocate drinking to excess when gambling, here are a few pointers on handling the free lubrication that casinos offer.

For years I watched closely as a good friend wandered through Atlantic City and explored the nuances of these little bits of wisdom.

1) Be sure to utilize the long drive. Sure, the casinos might be a ways off, but you can take advantage of this opportunity to get properly juiced. Pick up a case of beer and, just as important, a paper cup from your local convenience store (this way those sneaky, good-time spoilers working for law enforcement will be none the wiser). This is also the ideal time to get amped up with some killer tunes that encourage serious pounding; AC/DC’s Back in Black and Guns N Roses’ Appetite for Destruction are personal favorites.

2) Just pretend you ordered that drink. Been on the casino floor for more than an entire minute and don’t have a drink yet? Sickened to death by the idea of waiting even one instant longer for a taste of more delicious alcohol? Combat this frustration by sidling up to the first waitress you spot with a friendly smile. Quickly eyeball her tray, and ask her if the (burbon/coke, gin/tonic, beer, whatever) is for you. For this move, it is essential to have a couple dollars tip visibly at the ready.

3) Use the slot machine coin cups to hold beer. Admittedly, this suggestion dates me, but the thimble-sized pittance of alcohol that some casinos offer is an embarrassment. Order two beers and when they arrive, order two more immediately. For convenience sake, combine them into one of the jumbo cups most casinos set out near the slot machines. Don’t worry about hygiene issues. Alcohol can kill anything…I thought you were a rock star anyway. And ignore the Judgey McJudgertons that you encounter; they are just jealous that they didn’t think of it first.

4) Be careful to avoid walking into mirrors. Casinos are designed like mazes to trap patrons inside and keep them gambling. Many rely upon mirrored walls, particularly around the restrooms, to create an atmosphere of luxury and the illusion of space. These facts can be extremely frustrating when drunk. For God’s sake ! Look where you’re going! And never. ever, under any circumstances, run inside! And, if you find yourself strolling toward someone wearing vaguely familiar clothing, and matching your stride step for step, don’t play a stubborn game of chicken and see who turns first.

5) Do not inquire about a dealer’s bra size. Sure, you might be having a grand ol’ time, burning experiences out of your already depleted brain cells, but it is important to remember that dealers are at work, and they might not share your exact sense of humor. Now, I know what you’re thinking; the average dealer is slightly north of petite and more than a couple years into peak menopausal activity. If you encounter one that doesn’t seem to be enjoying the party, do not try to build a conversation around the size of her brassiere. It’s large and amply filled; leave it at that. This is not a good ice-breaker.

Alcoholism is no laughing matter, but sometimes drunks can be pretty funny.

So, I have concluded, the best way to be drunk in a casino is to surround yourself with people who are drunker than you. Remember, it’s much funnier to watch someone get thrown out, than to actually get thrown out yourself.

Punching Yourself in the Face

You know I’m gonna lose and gambling is for fools,
But that’s the way I like it, baby I don’t want to live forever.
-Motörhead “Ace of Spades”

As a gigantic hockey fan, I spent a lot of my childhood getting my fix from video games.

It started with the original Nintendo’s Ice Hockey and games against my younger brother. In the mid 1990s, when Sega’s version evolved to allow the creation of players, I built every Washington Capitals roster and won the Stanley Cup Playoffs with each one. By the time college rolled around, I had a Nintendo 64 and played full seasons with my favorite NHL teams.

Through these years of practice, I naturally got better than most people; with my proclivity towards gambling, small wagers were the next logical step. I often wish I had kept records of these early bets, but am happier that my opponents did not. At the end of each session, while counting a larger number of bills in my pocket, I always wondered why they played a game that was guaranteed to lose them money.

One friend of mine started to use the video game to really explore his inner demons. His competitive nature and desire for the glorious rush of gambling eventually pushed the stakes as high as $300 per game. Yes, he improved and won many times, but as we played, my skills also increased and I naturally maintained a consistent edge. It was MY GAME after all. I was "the house," the eighty-foot-tall leviathan of statistics. Slowly, or all in one gulp, I...will...eat...you.

A couple of times, after he lost, he punched the wall hard enough for pain, and then he made a show of thinking his hand was broken. While these bizarre performances were strangely entertaining, they did not prepare me for the day he punched himself full on in the face.

It happened very suddenly, but I will never forget the savage, flesh-smacking sound of his self-flagellation. His eyes were wild and desperate as he tried to convince me to keep playing. Reluctantly, I agreed, but after another loss and another face punch, I put the controller down.

Some players use gambling to satisfy their unconscious need to punch themselves in the face. For some reason, they willingly play games they can’t win, and they repeatedly make bets that will surely lose money. All the logic, math, and rational thought in the world cannot dissuade them from pursuing this strange urge for financial self-destruction.

My friend’s face punching illustrates how this unconscious urge to lose is intimately connected with a desire for self-destruction (see Freud’s “Beyond the Pleasure Principle”).

If you like to gamble, please give yourself a long look in the mirror, and explore your true motivations. You might save yourself a good deal of money by simply punching yourself in the face.

Hockey Players Love to Gamble

As the Oakland Raiders prepared to meet the Tampa Bay Buccaneers in Super Bowl XXXVII, a friend of mine called to tell me the New York Rangers had rented the Georgetown restaurant/bar he managed to watch the game. They were in D.C. after playing an afternoon game with the Capitals and because he knew I was a huge hockey fan, he invited me to watch the game also.

The entire two floor club was empty except for the players, a few girls, and a handful of random people (like me). The Rangers were easy to spot, even if you didn’t know hockey from hop-scotch, because they were very, very large, and fairly well-dressed. They sat around on the bar’s black leather couches, like hulking wise-guys, and watched Tampa’s defense dismantle Rich Gannon with a record five interceptions, three for second half touchdowns.

The final treat for the evening, aside from the exciting game and famous athletes, was the open bar which everyone abused in copious amounts (I suppose this means that I drank courtesy of the Rangers organization…thanks guys!).

The alcohol and sports mixed well to create an exciting energy; it filled the club as the Rangers took shot after shot and cheered at the jumbo television screen. It was hard to tell this team had taken consecutive beatings and was in desperate need of a playoff push.

Former MVP Eric Lindros stood quietly next to me for the duration of the third quarter. At the time, I was trying hard not to be an annoying fan, but I regret not chatting him up a little bit about his days in Philadelphia. His career was winding down because of concussions, and as he stood by himself at the bar, he seemed like the quiet type anyhow.

However, I could not resist talking to notorious instigator Matthew Barnaby about a fight he had that afternoon. I will never forget it because, as he was getting pounded in the face, he stopped fighting, looked over to the Rangers bench, and laughed like the devil’s own son (above). Barnaby was in the middle of all the action at the bar; that guy’s loose screws make him very entertaining.

The real shock of the evening was witnessing how much these hockey players liked to gamble. Many of them had thick knots of bills and yelled out strange and drunken wagers. For example, I watched one player bet a grand that a catch under review would be ruled a touchdown.

This proclivity toward financial risk is shared by many NHL players. One time MVP Jaromir Jagr lost several hundred thousand betting college football during his short tenure with the Capitals. Rick Tocchet lost his job as Phoenix’s assistant coach when his book-making operation got busted. Gretzky's "wife" was one of his clients. Of course, the NHL forgives and forgets, and Tocchet was promoted to Tampa Bay’s head coaching job this year.

Gambling with money must be a frivolous thrill when placed next to the potential for extreme bodily harm these players skate with every day. I wonder if there is any correlation between the two...

Baby Picks Derby Winner

Picking ponies has always seemed like a blind lottery to me. The 2009 Kentucky Derby certainly supports this view; Mine That Bird, a 51-1 long shot, the only gelding in the field, rode from last to first and blew by its elite competition, winning by the biggest margin in 63 years. It was the second biggest upset in Derby history and because a baby (yeah, that’s right, a fifteen month old baby!) won the most money at this year’s Kentucky Derby Party, I finally have proof that picking ponies is not a skill at all.

Each year, a good friend of mine from Kentucky hosts a lavish Derby Party to showcase his state pride. He puts together a menu of appetizers, a couple of main courses, and an incredible array of bourbons. The guys put on ties, the girls get into dresses, and we all enjoy a nice May Saturday afternoon. To add to the excitement of the event, my friend relies on me to organize a small racebook so that guests can bet on their favorite horse. This year, the smart money was split between Dunkirk and Pioneer of the Nile (the eventual second place finisher). As the race neared post time, every horse had been bet on, except three long shots. As a joke, a couple who had brought their young child in a pretty little pink dress (coincidently, also Mine That Bird’s color) gave her a dollar. She looked over the sheet, mumbled the horse’s name, and handed me the cash. The proud parents even photographed the event.

Everyone stood in open-mouthed shock, watching the long shot horse storm down the muddy final stretch, and realized that the youngest party guest had just become the biggest winner. We all cheered loudly, startling the tiny hustler, and laughed at the improbable events. Her dad and mom took another picture of me handing over the money and the toddler wandered around the room, gleefully waving tiny fistfuls of cash.

As I sat back and joked about questionable parenting, I contemplated the strange scene. It is quite possible that this was the youngest person, perhaps in the world, to pick the long shot horse, place the bet, and collect her winnings. I can’t shake the guilty vision of this young winner developing a gambling problem later in life, wandering the streets, searching the gutters for lost change, and mumbling “Mine That Bird to win. Mine That Bird to win.”

The thought passes quickly. Hey Baby! Loan me five dollars.

Kicked Out for Counting Cards

In the summer of 2004, I became infatuated with the game of blackjack. Although I had played the game a lot in the past, during drunken escapades in Atlantic City, I never took it seriously. I bought the book Blackjack for Blood and learned how to count cards. Hour after hour, day after day, I methodically trained myself to become a blackjack machine; my skill increased as I counted down hundreds of decks and played thousands of practice hands.

In that first year, I made three trips to A.C. and two to Las Vegas, playing a few hours at low table stakes. My records show that I had spread action in 13 different casinos, playing about 23 hours, with a net profit of $834.5 (a good run of slightly more than $36 per hour, but definitely no reason to quit my day job).

This is when the most interesting experience of my blackjack experiment occurred; a casino actually barred little ol’ me from play.

I had scouted out a good table in a tiny casino located at the heart of the Vegas strip called Barbary Coast. Sitting between the mammoth Caesars, Flamingo, Bally’s and Bellagio, this dinky little casino looks completely out of place; I have to believe it won’t be long before it is knocked down for another lavish coin fountain or some other pricey Vegas trinket (ok., so maybe I have a little grudge). It was 11 in the morning and I had been playing for an hour when I encountered a good deck, stacked a win on top of my bet for a max bet, and prepared for a nice little payday. At this moment, a pit boss stepped up, pushed my bet back, and said “No more blackjack for you.” As he walked off without further word, I feigned shock and looked at him, then the dealer, then the stunned old man playing to my left. What the hell? I was even down $85 for the session. I muttered that fact as I left, a little pissed, but also a little proud. The staff of a Vegas casino considered me too good to let play.

To this day, I have not figured out what gave me away. I didn’t feel any “heat.” The pit bosses didn’t even seem to be watching. Maybe the dealers spotted me…maybe my lips moved slightly as I followed the count…maybe it was too early in the morning for a player that seemed to magically pick good spots for big bets…who knows?

Thinking back over the memory, I have never been able to forget how unsurprised the man to my right was by the events. In all my years of gambling in casinos, I’ve seen a lot, but never anyone getting kicked out before, and this guy didn’t even blink. While the old man on my left sat agape, this bearded fellow placidly sat there and avoided eye contact with me. There is the strong chance that he was a shill, working for the casino, and tracking my play.

The end result of my barring was negligible; I was playing at another casino within ten minutes.

While any form of cheating in a Vegas casino is considered a felony, counting cards is not cheating. It is merely a method of using math and intelligence to gain an edge over a game and beat a casino, or, in other words, beat an industry that is so accustomed to beating everyone.

Personally, I consider counting cards to be very, very boring. My two year blackjack experiment was only relatively entertaining and the tiny stakes were only slightly profitable. By the end, I grew tired of thinking like a machine. As if my brain was ruled by binary coding, numbers dominated every conscious thought, even away from the table. Becoming a machine might be exciting for some people, but I cannot stomach the boredom.

The Biggest Bet I've Ever Made

Although I generally eschew sports betting in favor of games where I see a genuine edge, I made the spring of 2002 a big exception.

I had met a group of small-time bookies who worked at a favorite bar of mine and started placing bets on the NFL playoffs and then the NCAA basketball championship. Bars, by the way, for some reason, are terrific places to meet book makers and do a little gambling. Perhaps it’s the combination of booze, television, and time to kill, I don’t know.

I still vividly remember getting robbed in a well-known Raiders and Patriots game in the snow; Tom Brady got stripped of the ball late in the game, but it was ruled an incomplete pass. The replay clearly shows Brady touching the ball with his other hand as he checks it down! The Patriots tied the game and eventually won by a field goal in overtime, which pushed my Raiders +3 bet, but I’ve always felt like I was robbed of $200. This memory doubtlessly contributes to my healthy hatred of the Pats.

By the time the NHL playoffs started, I was ready to mix my love of hockey with some bigger action. I picked a few games in the early rounds leading up to the Stanley Cup, sometimes losing a hundred or two, sometimes winning.

When the Red Wings marched into the finals, with a roster of certain Hall of Fame players, my instincts sensed an opportunity to make some “easy” money. The Wings' bench was stocked with arguably the best collection of players the NHL had seen in over a decade (I mean, come on: Yzerman, Federov, Shanahan, Hull, Robitalle, Lidstrom, Chelios, Larionov, the young Pavel Datsyuk, and a perfect cast of role players. This was a no brainer). The deepest pit of my stomach told me that there was no way Detroit’s goaltender, Dominick “The Dominator” Hasek, would let his best chance for a Cup slide by him.

So I visited my bartender/bookie and slid him a slip of paper which said “Detroit win series $1000.” Now a thousand dollars is a nice bit of dough, but as 1 to 8.5 favorites, a Detroit loss would decimate my bankroll. If you can laugh off $8500, then more power to you. This bookie pal of mine made sure I knew the murky waters I was wading into and told me he had never seen anyone put so much on one series. What can I say? I knew they would win. As an after thought, I put another $300 on Game 1.
 

Unfortunately, Carolina shocked Detroit in Game 1, tying the game with less than a minute left and then their captain, Ron Francis, netted a goal to win a minute into overtime. The turnaround was lightning quick; I was up $300 and on my way to a nice payday, then, in less than two minutes of game time, I was facing a $300 loss and suddenly looking down a 85 hundred dollar sniper’s bullet. A powerful sense of nausea appeared in my stomach like the sickly anticipation of waiting for a roulette ball to make up its mind and finally drop.

However, Detroit only trailed in one of the next four games, won them all, and when the ball did fall nine days later, the cash was mine. All told, during the 2002 NHL playoffs, I pocketed a little over $1300 and have tried my hardest to stay away from sports gambling ever since.

The Rules of Gambling

More than twenty years ago, I discovered the thrill of gambling. As I gained experience placing all sorts of wagers with all sorts of people, various issues arose from time to time. So I developed several rules, which were initially just playful talk, for managing wise bets. However, these hard-learned rules have made me a lot of pocket money and saved my wallet from many unnecessary problems.

1) Put money on the "table."

The "table" is often literally a table, but sometimes it is merely a figurative term that refers to the physical transfer of money. Placing money on a table, or using it to purchase a ticket or chips, is the act which clearly signals intent to wager. It should remind a gambler that the decisions he/she makes have real consequences. Also, it greatly reduces the problems that surround collection and payment.

2) Don't borrow; don't loan.

This is a rule that I try to follow both at the "table" and away from it. I like to remind anyone requesting a loan that I am not a bank. Loans tax my bankroll and stress my head. I respect my friends enough not to burden them with my financial problems and expect they will do the same. Often, it is very hard to say no, especially to people I like; however, once a person gets to know me well, he/she understands that it's not personal. I am very strict not to loan to anyone because loaning to one means loaning to all. Once a person experiences the worry of carrying debt that is not theirs, he/she understands this essential rule.

3) Know the "zone."

The "zone" is a term which refers to an almost magical place where everything seemingly goes right. Often referred to as "rushing," being in the "zone" is the most terrific feeling in gambling; in the zone, every move works and every bet pays. Often times I can almost sense its arrival, like a rising tickle of adrenaline. However, it is more important to know when the rush is over, when to slow down, and when to quit playing. Not understanding when to quit is, without a doubt, the most costly mistake in gambling.

4) Never bet money that you can't afford to lose.

Gambling should be a pleasant diversion from the drudgery of the everyday. Therefore, it should never be engaged in with money needed for life's everyday essentials. Playing with money needed for food, clothing, shelter, or medication ruins the innocent enjoyment of gambling. Futhermore, this mistake can affect the chance of winning ; the fear of losing dominates every wager. Do not be tempted to try and use this fear as a motivation to gamble smarter. Breaking this important rule is often the sign of a gambling problem.