The foremost benefit of the casino job was that it allowed you to observe certain kinds of human behavior that you just can't find anywhere else in the world. For example, the smiles. The whole casino is run on the basis of artificial civility, and everyone smiles all the time. However, there are many types and functions of smiles, and after a while you start to notice the small variations which differentiate them:
1. DEALER SMILE - All dealers have in their skill set at least one type of sly, lazy smile that only card dealers can do. This smile is used in response to positive comments/requests from players along the lines of, "Please let me win / You're beautiful / You are the best dealer in the whole world." It is friendly without being inviting, and it never means "Yes" or "Thank you." When they mean "Thank you" they say "Thank you." The Dealer smile means something like, "It is too much trouble to actually speak with you, and seeing how you'll probably be screaming for my death within the next fifteen minutes, there's no sense engaging your delusion that we have some special connection, so I will smile at you instead to acknowledge that you are speaking."
2. LOSER SMILE - This is one of my favorites. This smile happens when someone loses a big hand and wants to give off the impression that it doesn't matter that much to him, usually in response to some laughing comment by the hand's winner. See, unlike the civilized world wherein it's generally uncool to gloat in victory or kick a dog when he's down (unless of course you're the Bush administration), in the casino it's pretty standard that after you take a guy's money you can give him a "good-natured" ribbing about it, because....well, because these people are sick. But the really special thing about this type of exchange is the loser's face; should he decide to play the game of "it doesn't matter that you just took six thousand dollars of my money" when in fact it does matter to him, he'll offer up a kind of sickened fragile smile and laugh that, as soon as the ribbing is done, collapses so quickly it actually sucks away whatever appearance of good humor the loser was trying to convey.
3. NOTHING I CAN DO SMILE - This is the smile that the floorman or pit boss gives you when they're telling you that despite all your screaming, the request or complaint you have registered is just not going to go your way tonight. It's an embarassingly fake smile, which can trigger-quick switch to a scowl when they decide to start using the Bark of Intimidation on you. Once you see the Nothing I Can Do smile, even if you have a valid complaint, you can be sure they've already decided you're not important enough to satisfy.
4. NOT UNDERSTANDING YOU SMILE - The default dim-wattage smile, usually accompanied by some head-nodding, used when you want to appear engaged in whatever the hell this person is blathering at you about. Unfortunately, a popular staple of corporation bankers.
5. GOING HOME SOON SMILE - Another dealer smile, this is one of the only really genuine smiles on the list, and usually comes near the end of the shift. After being harassed, screamed at and spit on for the past eight hours, they're giddily unable to hide pleasure at the thought of going home. Different from the other dealer smiles because it's the one that sneaks out even when something grotesque or violent is happening at the table to which he/she ordinarily should act dispassionately.
6. STUPID SHOESHINER SMILE - The dumb, forced grin worn by the shoeshiners who are trying, with difficulty, to assess the best way to turn incidents on the table to their financial advantage. Different from the Not Understanding You smile because while the NUY smile is merely lazy and apathetic, the shoeshiners are really too unintelligent to understand what is going on around them, as revealed in their twitching, slightly slack-jawed smile.
7. WINNER SMILE - Another genuine smile that needs no explanation, the one that they get models to fake for all those Casino Morongo ads.
8. BOTOX SUPPORTIVE WIFE & KIDS SMILE - There was this extremely drunk insane Korean guy who brought his family along to watch him gamble. It became clear after a little while of watching his wife and daughter that they seemed incapable of frowning due to some kind of surgical work on their mouths and foreheads. Despite the guy's humiliating losses and embarassing tirades over the course of the evening, his female companions always had on the same bright rubbery smiles.
9. CORPORATION CHANGING THE SUBJECT SMILE - This is the most difficult smile to master, and I've only gotten off a few really good ones in my brief career, although some of my co-workers are experts at it. A typical need for it comes when the corporation banker (us) has just won a big hand, pulled an insanely lucky card, or otherwise caused affront to the other seated players (them) which results in them screaming and bitching at us and at God's general injustice. At this point one can either ignore the haranguing, or, if you are really skilled, with a confident smile, perhaps a careful joke and an innocent tilt of the head, you can make everyone forget what just happened. It's a slight variation of the Nothing I Can Do smile, and as I understand it happens a lot on poker tables where the skilled players have to keep the suckers interested in the game. The trick is, instead of acknowledging that you just took away someone's liquor store and feel kind of bad about it, you try to smile at them in a way that both assauges their disappointment and asserts with authority that it's okay, this is the way it's supposed to be, it's only a game and, hey, that loss you just suffered? You really kind of liked it because it means you can hang out here a little longer.
10. STAY AWAY FROM ME I'M FEMALE SMILE - This is one smile that also exists outside the casino, and OK, it's a bit sexist to say so, but there are certain kinds of superficially warm and wonderful smiles displayed by certain women who hang around the table that should, to any halfway perceptive and rational person, translate directly into "Get, and stay, far the hell away from me if self-preservation is something you practice."
Showing posts with label last. Show all posts
Showing posts with label last. Show all posts
news
I haven't posted for a while because I have literally been on another planet where they have a different version of the internet, but I wanted to throw this up because it's the first time I've ever been involved in a photograph next to a giant-sized check. (It is an award for a screenplay I'm co-adapting based on my play.)
last night at the Bicycle Club
At 11:55 I walked past our Dragon Room one last time and out onto the Pavilion floor and I saw between the Pai Gow tables three of the other corporation bankers each carrying three big racks of chips and walking towards where I just was. You going in, I asked? Yeah, one of them said. I said good luck and walked back towards the Freedom Court.
the weather channel
My friend was watching the fire on TV today, a static shot of a dark hillside burning.
At first they showed the path of the fire as slivers, later the slivers became blankets.
Outside, it's warm, summery. I went to the beach, saw the ocean. The sky was mottled, then matted, with purple and grey.
At first they showed the path of the fire as slivers, later the slivers became blankets.
Outside, it's warm, summery. I went to the beach, saw the ocean. The sky was mottled, then matted, with purple and grey.
We win, we win, we win.
The Bay Area hasn't had a sports team with a big win since the 80's, when the Niners ruled the world. And back then, the Niners were kind of like the bullies on the playground, they kicked so much ass. As a sports fan I find it hard to root for a dynasty. I want to root for an underdog. But over the past two decades the Bay Area's had not so much underdogs, but good teams that choke in a big game. The Giants in the World Series, the Raiders in various playoff games....betraying perhaps a certain Northern Californian whatever-ness about winning, a lack of killer instinct. It's like, who cares about getting a championship when you're already eating the best fruit and cheese plate in the world?
So the Warriors beating the Mavericks is just impossibly great, because the Warriors were huge underdogs, they were up against the "best" team in the NBA, and they did not choke. I'm still amazed by it.
Steve Kerr wrote this, which gave my heart a tug:
"The Oracle Arena crowd was the best I have ever seen in the NBA. In 15 years of playing and four years as a commentator, I have never, ever seen 20,000 fans standing as one for an entire second half. That's what Golden State's fans did in Game 6, and it was amazing to witness. The Mavs seemed to be in good shape starting the third quarter, with Davis hurting and the pace of the game in their favor. But the Warriors' crowd was so rowdy, so loud, that Dallas never looked comfortable on the floor. The momentum swung Golden State's way as soon as Jackson started making threes, and the crowd took it from there."
How badly we wanted to win, for once, and for once, how sweet to fail at being disappointed.
So the Warriors beating the Mavericks is just impossibly great, because the Warriors were huge underdogs, they were up against the "best" team in the NBA, and they did not choke. I'm still amazed by it.
Steve Kerr wrote this, which gave my heart a tug:
"The Oracle Arena crowd was the best I have ever seen in the NBA. In 15 years of playing and four years as a commentator, I have never, ever seen 20,000 fans standing as one for an entire second half. That's what Golden State's fans did in Game 6, and it was amazing to witness. The Mavs seemed to be in good shape starting the third quarter, with Davis hurting and the pace of the game in their favor. But the Warriors' crowd was so rowdy, so loud, that Dallas never looked comfortable on the floor. The momentum swung Golden State's way as soon as Jackson started making threes, and the crowd took it from there."
How badly we wanted to win, for once, and for once, how sweet to fail at being disappointed.
2007: First Quarter
Days passing , a long time,
a day wasted, waiting for
what could probably happen,
a safe distance to close
by itself, by yourself, besides you
there's nothing else to express.
What I say you know already
so slow or so what
fear of too quickly
something happening and if then
a new ruthless dream to dream about.
Can I wait this out
hypnotize myself with
a candle and snap
awake when the
feeling of flame subsides?
a day wasted, waiting for
what could probably happen,
a safe distance to close
by itself, by yourself, besides you
there's nothing else to express.
What I say you know already
so slow or so what
fear of too quickly
something happening and if then
a new ruthless dream to dream about.
Can I wait this out
hypnotize myself with
a candle and snap
awake when the
feeling of flame subsides?
well, THAT went about as well as it could possibly go....
....and really, that's all one can ever ask.
so i'm at this party
....sitting on a chair, with my feet propped up on another chair, half-intending to occupy both until my co-workers arrive, because this is the kind of party where chairs are precious, territory-establishing objects. But I'm not thinking that I'll fight for the feet-propping chair if someone else asks for it, I just want to casually comandeer it for as long as possible. Up comes this mophead hipster-looking white guy in a denim jacket. I think he may ask for the chair. What he does is makes a strange little whooping noise, point at something on the ground as if to distract my attention, and then grab the foot-propping chair away, again with a little nonsense noise like "Shwoo!" He takes the chair to another corner of the party, sets it down, and starts gabbing with his friends.
...now, I'm not one to make snap judgements about people based on their appearance, but this guy was obviously an asshole. It's one thing to be Too Cool to ask for a chair, instead making a big show of stealing it with your clever "what's-that-thing-on-the-ground" trick. It's another thing to do all that while sporting an obnoxious lead-singer-of-the-Strokes hairdo and making little comic book noises. I'd give him the benefit of the doubt if he was on drugs, but then again if that was the case, I'd figure him to have on some appropriately ironic T-shirt that said something like "I AM ON DRUGS" in pink block letters.
...I have another theory of this guy that is based completely on my brief impression. He probably doesn't know enough assholes in his personal life. There are certain people in LA who feel it's their job to act out the asshole at every social function, because they're a cool-rebel-rocker-actor-poker-player-whatever. They live in sheltered shmoozy environments where everyone's superficially civil to each other, or else dulled and jaded by the sterile isolation of modern life, etc. So they "shake things up" by acting in the style of jerks that they've seen on TV. They don't actually know any real assholes, but they are repelled by the fake niceness that permeates LA, and feel this is their way of Keeping It Real.
....This is why it's important to know some true assholes in your life. So you don't waste time posing as one to hide your own lack of character traits. Again, I could give mophead benefit of the doubt and believe that he was a genuine-article asshole who came from a whole family of abusive chair-stealing types. But I don't think so. He didn't seem to have the real sociopathy in him, merely a surface caricature of it. Like the kind of guy who responds to someone saying "Hi!" by lunging at them and screaming "Krakoa! Kraoka!" just to point out how meaningless the convention of saying Hello is. I'll assume that he's the bad boy in a pack of nice friends, and his friends all think he's hilarious.
...now, I'm not one to make snap judgements about people based on their appearance, but this guy was obviously an asshole. It's one thing to be Too Cool to ask for a chair, instead making a big show of stealing it with your clever "what's-that-thing-on-the-ground" trick. It's another thing to do all that while sporting an obnoxious lead-singer-of-the-Strokes hairdo and making little comic book noises. I'd give him the benefit of the doubt if he was on drugs, but then again if that was the case, I'd figure him to have on some appropriately ironic T-shirt that said something like "I AM ON DRUGS" in pink block letters.
...I have another theory of this guy that is based completely on my brief impression. He probably doesn't know enough assholes in his personal life. There are certain people in LA who feel it's their job to act out the asshole at every social function, because they're a cool-rebel-rocker-actor-poker-player-whatever. They live in sheltered shmoozy environments where everyone's superficially civil to each other, or else dulled and jaded by the sterile isolation of modern life, etc. So they "shake things up" by acting in the style of jerks that they've seen on TV. They don't actually know any real assholes, but they are repelled by the fake niceness that permeates LA, and feel this is their way of Keeping It Real.
....This is why it's important to know some true assholes in your life. So you don't waste time posing as one to hide your own lack of character traits. Again, I could give mophead benefit of the doubt and believe that he was a genuine-article asshole who came from a whole family of abusive chair-stealing types. But I don't think so. He didn't seem to have the real sociopathy in him, merely a surface caricature of it. Like the kind of guy who responds to someone saying "Hi!" by lunging at them and screaming "Krakoa! Kraoka!" just to point out how meaningless the convention of saying Hello is. I'll assume that he's the bad boy in a pack of nice friends, and his friends all think he's hilarious.
the worst day at work ever
I started today in a dandy mood, and then I went to work. Today's shift really set a new high bar for awful days. Not only did I lose a ridiculous amount of money, I was squashed between these two drunk-ass Mexican dudes (one of whom had not been home for two days, and was super-rank) who basically dripped spittle on me and got in my face for eight straight hours. There was no backup person in the casino so I couldn't get up for more than a few minutes at a time. Everyone was angry at me, as usual, even though I was giving money away in fistfuls. I lost 4 out of every 5 hands I was involved in, which was almost every single hand. The table was so crowded and the action so heavy I couldn't eat, drink, move, or hear myself think. I just had to sit there and focus on digging a deeper and deeper hole for myself.
....The only bright side of the whole day was that I got to mouth off to some of the players, because, after a point, I couldn't care less. I've never been in a real physical fight with anyone, but today I got to act like I was going to start one. The drunk smelly guy is so smashed and obviously disgusting that I don't incur any job risk in treating him like the dog he is. He kept "accidentally" knocking over my chips, trying to say sorry, pat me on the back, to which I enthusiastically replied "Don't Talk. Don't touch me. Back up. Right now." There are definitely customers that I couldn't get away with saying this to, and I'm careful around them. But the vast majority of players are such stupid insecure pathetic losers that it doesn't really matter how you talk to them -- you can be nice, or you can talk to them like they're a dog --- in the end, it doesn't affect how they act around you at all.
....The only bright side of the whole day was that I got to mouth off to some of the players, because, after a point, I couldn't care less. I've never been in a real physical fight with anyone, but today I got to act like I was going to start one. The drunk smelly guy is so smashed and obviously disgusting that I don't incur any job risk in treating him like the dog he is. He kept "accidentally" knocking over my chips, trying to say sorry, pat me on the back, to which I enthusiastically replied "Don't Talk. Don't touch me. Back up. Right now." There are definitely customers that I couldn't get away with saying this to, and I'm careful around them. But the vast majority of players are such stupid insecure pathetic losers that it doesn't really matter how you talk to them -- you can be nice, or you can talk to them like they're a dog --- in the end, it doesn't affect how they act around you at all.
i am the biggest work nerd
Today we had a meeting for work and gee whiz I was specially recognized by the boss for being a big work nerd, covering people's shifts and whatnot (she must have conveniently forgotten the three months I took off last year to shoot TA91 which inconvenienced everybody else on the team) and I got a nice gift certificate for Best Buy which I should probably use to buy something boring like blank media but will most likely end up putting towards 2 or 3 overpriced DVDs.
So that was pleasing, and gives me yet another excuse to wax sentimental about my co-workers. I really like the lot of them. Because of the particular nature of our job, in which the two major skills are a) watching over tons of money that does not belong to us and b) accomodating very nasty customers, we're all good at a few basic things that it seems precious few people in LA can do At All. Maybe it's because the other people I know in LA are disproportionately actors, artists, and wannabe film people, but i find it a rare pleasure to be with people who are all responsible, incredibly trustworthy, and have basic social skills. For example, we have a habit of always checking in with each other about trivial stuff like directions and starting times and parking....stuff that, in the film world, is reserved for that one unglamorous job category of production coordinators/managers, because it is naturally assumed that only one person on set can be expected to care what time it is or where we are. Actors and directors are too cool for that stuff, and are considered cooler based on how late/lost/clueless they are about real world logistics.
...Also, because we work with the most overreactive, infantile people on earth, we are good at identifying and defusing potential dramas and creating/imposing a kickback atmosphere. This is the exact opposite of what most people in LA are good at, which is creating drama out of nothing and throwing star tantrums every time the sky turns blue. Rather than trying all the time to be The Most Interesting Person You Will Ever Meet, we work hard to be pleasant and not give anyone an excuse to start screaming.
...Did I mention? SO Trustworthy. Because of the money thing. I may vote differently from some of my co-workers, but I would trust pretty much all of them with the keys to my house, PIN number, and mother's maiden name. Because they just don't dick around and they always pay you back.
...These are small things, to be sure, but precious. And I must again emphasize, things which are the opposite of the most common personality traits of the average Los Angeles citizen, for whom day-to-day organization is a service provided by a paid lackey, co-workers are the people whom you have to beat out for the next job/gig/big audition, flakiness is a career move, and trust is something you never ever show, unless you want to end up robbed, raped, and denied residuals from your new identity as an unpaid Internet porn star.
So that was pleasing, and gives me yet another excuse to wax sentimental about my co-workers. I really like the lot of them. Because of the particular nature of our job, in which the two major skills are a) watching over tons of money that does not belong to us and b) accomodating very nasty customers, we're all good at a few basic things that it seems precious few people in LA can do At All. Maybe it's because the other people I know in LA are disproportionately actors, artists, and wannabe film people, but i find it a rare pleasure to be with people who are all responsible, incredibly trustworthy, and have basic social skills. For example, we have a habit of always checking in with each other about trivial stuff like directions and starting times and parking....stuff that, in the film world, is reserved for that one unglamorous job category of production coordinators/managers, because it is naturally assumed that only one person on set can be expected to care what time it is or where we are. Actors and directors are too cool for that stuff, and are considered cooler based on how late/lost/clueless they are about real world logistics.
...Also, because we work with the most overreactive, infantile people on earth, we are good at identifying and defusing potential dramas and creating/imposing a kickback atmosphere. This is the exact opposite of what most people in LA are good at, which is creating drama out of nothing and throwing star tantrums every time the sky turns blue. Rather than trying all the time to be The Most Interesting Person You Will Ever Meet, we work hard to be pleasant and not give anyone an excuse to start screaming.
...Did I mention? SO Trustworthy. Because of the money thing. I may vote differently from some of my co-workers, but I would trust pretty much all of them with the keys to my house, PIN number, and mother's maiden name. Because they just don't dick around and they always pay you back.
...These are small things, to be sure, but precious. And I must again emphasize, things which are the opposite of the most common personality traits of the average Los Angeles citizen, for whom day-to-day organization is a service provided by a paid lackey, co-workers are the people whom you have to beat out for the next job/gig/big audition, flakiness is a career move, and trust is something you never ever show, unless you want to end up robbed, raped, and denied residuals from your new identity as an unpaid Internet porn star.
The test screening went well.
The response forms indicated that many liked it, a few did not, but at least they hung around long enough to write why they didn't like it. Much encouraging laughter from the audience.
Definitely still felt a few draggy parts. Am now exporting a cut that is about 10 minutes shorter, based on feelings I had about the screening. I attacked it again with the "less is more" mentality....one should always do thus in film editing, I guess, but it was much more clear after seeing it with an audience which parts were redundantly redundant.
....
Am cautiously anxious to see "Hitchhiker's Guide," mainly because it will be nice to see a movie in a theater again after months of being stuck in my own navel/Final Cut Pro session. But also because the original books had a huge effect on me in my adolescence, made me want to write, and as such caused everthing I write to knock off Douglas Adams a little bit, TA91 being no exception, perhaps in fact the worst offender. This new Hitchhiker's movie praaaaaaaabably sucks a bit in that Hollywood way, but that suckage it itself would go further to prove so many of Adams' theses, that I can't imagine it won't be enjoyable.
...
I think Hitchhiker's Guide is also what taught me to write long run-on sentences with lots of double negatives and interminable clauses under the theory that the sheer length in itself will prove funny and the reckless abandon with which the sentence is written, coupled with the complete lack of tangible point, will not be too extremely infuriating.
The response forms indicated that many liked it, a few did not, but at least they hung around long enough to write why they didn't like it. Much encouraging laughter from the audience.
Definitely still felt a few draggy parts. Am now exporting a cut that is about 10 minutes shorter, based on feelings I had about the screening. I attacked it again with the "less is more" mentality....one should always do thus in film editing, I guess, but it was much more clear after seeing it with an audience which parts were redundantly redundant.
....
Am cautiously anxious to see "Hitchhiker's Guide," mainly because it will be nice to see a movie in a theater again after months of being stuck in my own navel/Final Cut Pro session. But also because the original books had a huge effect on me in my adolescence, made me want to write, and as such caused everthing I write to knock off Douglas Adams a little bit, TA91 being no exception, perhaps in fact the worst offender. This new Hitchhiker's movie praaaaaaaabably sucks a bit in that Hollywood way, but that suckage it itself would go further to prove so many of Adams' theses, that I can't imagine it won't be enjoyable.
...
I think Hitchhiker's Guide is also what taught me to write long run-on sentences with lots of double negatives and interminable clauses under the theory that the sheer length in itself will prove funny and the reckless abandon with which the sentence is written, coupled with the complete lack of tangible point, will not be too extremely infuriating.
PRA 5.1.05
To the right I updated the link list with the info for our preview screening of "Untitled Asian Invasion Movie" at VC Filmfest 2005. It's May 1, 9 PM, the DGA on Sunset.
It's "Untitled" cos I may want to back off on the title, although I like it, if I hear any more people struggling to remember what the movie is called. "Test Audience?.....Test....Something...."
It's a preview because the color correction, visual effects, audio and all that are not yet finished. So it will look and sound a little rough in parts but it is a whole movie.
It is also one of about seven different movies in the festival this year involving a love story between two Asian women. But ours is the only one between a human and an alien.
It's "Untitled" cos I may want to back off on the title, although I like it, if I hear any more people struggling to remember what the movie is called. "Test Audience?.....Test....Something...."
It's a preview because the color correction, visual effects, audio and all that are not yet finished. So it will look and sound a little rough in parts but it is a whole movie.
It is also one of about seven different movies in the festival this year involving a love story between two Asian women. But ours is the only one between a human and an alien.
homeland security and me
So I finally went to small claims court about the police-breaking-into-our-grip-truck thing., and I did not win. Apparently the police have immunity to cause certain kinds of damage when they're doing their thing, even if the only crime being committed is suspicious parking. The officers who came to represent the LAPD did advise me that I should be suing the Department of Homeland Security, since it was apparently their man, Danny Roth, who initiated the whole action. He called in the LAPD only because he didn't have his own bomb squad handy. Actually the entity that truly owes me the 800 bucks is his dog (also named "Dani") who sat on the truck, causing everyone to go into alert mode.
....It's not that I can't see it from their persepctive. "Thank God at least you weren't really a terrorist!" "What were you thinking parking a white truck in front of a federal building after the Oklahoma City bombings?" But what itches me is the idea that from a legal perspective, this story seems to shake out as: Homeland Security investigated a possible terrorist action, and some stuff got damaged in the process, thank goodness no one was hurt. When what really happened was: I parked a truck, half the city arrived to smash in the window and the door, and then they left, and I got to pay for it.
...Am also considering asking John Kerry for my donation back.
....It's not that I can't see it from their persepctive. "Thank God at least you weren't really a terrorist!" "What were you thinking parking a white truck in front of a federal building after the Oklahoma City bombings?" But what itches me is the idea that from a legal perspective, this story seems to shake out as: Homeland Security investigated a possible terrorist action, and some stuff got damaged in the process, thank goodness no one was hurt. When what really happened was: I parked a truck, half the city arrived to smash in the window and the door, and then they left, and I got to pay for it.
...Am also considering asking John Kerry for my donation back.
The Man.
Since a couple not-too-bright guys in the casino yesterday felt it necessary to bond over the Republican victory by calling Bush "The Man" and Kerry "A Wimp," I'd like to reiterate something that seemed to get lost in the battle of Republican lies and Democratic blather.
....
Kerry was in a war, he used a weapon in service of our country. Bush has no comparable military service, he authorizes the killing of people at long distance, he has NO IDEA WHAT HE'S TALKING ABOUT. IF HE HAD TO, KERRY WOULD KICK BUSH'S ASS IN THE TIME IT WOULD TAKE ME TO OPEN A BAG OF POTATO CHIPS.
...
Small comfort, this. Sometimes I wish people would just wear a sign that says "I Repeat Things I've Heard On CNN Until It Seems That I Have An Opinion" so I would know not to give them the benefit of the doubt.
....
Kerry was in a war, he used a weapon in service of our country. Bush has no comparable military service, he authorizes the killing of people at long distance, he has NO IDEA WHAT HE'S TALKING ABOUT. IF HE HAD TO, KERRY WOULD KICK BUSH'S ASS IN THE TIME IT WOULD TAKE ME TO OPEN A BAG OF POTATO CHIPS.
...
Small comfort, this. Sometimes I wish people would just wear a sign that says "I Repeat Things I've Heard On CNN Until It Seems That I Have An Opinion" so I would know not to give them the benefit of the doubt.
poker is not sexy pt.1
I like poker as much as the next 18-49 male demographic, but there's way too much poker posing going on these days. I get the appeal of doing little work with the potential for big money, but there's also the WPT-induced illusion that quitting your real job to become a pro poker player is glamorous or will somehow impress women. I suppose you could argue that it's Cool, but here are my arguments for why poker is not Sexy:
- It's time-consuming. On TV, they don't show the hours and hours of folding crap hands. There's no clocking in and clocking out. You just have to stay there till you make money or you've had enough, which could take days. The only way you can make money during that time is if you think about nothing at all but playing poker. You can't tune out, or surf the Internet, or make pleasant conversation in your downtime, as with other jobs. After enough time at the table you will forget what pleasant conversation is.
- It's boring to non-poker-addicts. As with real estate law, there are many fascinating intricacies. As with real estate law, you don't actually want to hear about the intricacies unless you are in the same field. After you are done boring people with stories about how you hit a set on the river and won blah blah amount of money, you will start boring people with your rationalization about why it's okay to gamble and why you are not an addict.
- It's smelly. People in casinos have terrible hygiene. Even if you are not personally dirty, there's an excellent chance that you're sitting next to someone who has been there for 4 straight days without eating sleeping or showering. Those pretty shiny chips you gamble with have been in the hands of someone with Lyme disease. Even if you are not a loser, in order to win you have to constantly surround yourself with losers who are swimming in their own filth.
- It's not really Shana Hiatt's favorite sport. (Even when watching the show I can kind of tell in her delivery that the back of her brain is going, "What is the Big Deal...?") I often see big gamblers bring their girlfriends into the casino, and the girlfriends inevitably get bored, while the boyfriends ignore them completely to fixate on the game. I'm guilty of this myself, and it's not "focusing on the game," it's more like temporary insanity. The only women who actually get interested in the table action to the obsessive degree that the pro poker player does, are, of course, female poker players, but they are using their feminine wiles to disrupt your game and get your money, not your phone number. At the risk of a sexist generalization, I'd bet that 50% of the women in the casino on a Friday night are waiting patiently to leave, and the other 50% are gamblers. On the table, you're better off being on your own anyway....at least, better off in the poker department.
- It's expensive. Without belaboring the obvious, it's not expensive in the sexy way that new cars or other shiny things are expensive. Besides money, it costs valuable years of your life, and brain cells.
....Maybe this is part of the new trend to emasculate the Asian male. Except in this case we're demasculating ourselves by giving into our historically horrendous gambling inclination, and thereby sacrificing not only money, but a huge amount of game.
- It's time-consuming. On TV, they don't show the hours and hours of folding crap hands. There's no clocking in and clocking out. You just have to stay there till you make money or you've had enough, which could take days. The only way you can make money during that time is if you think about nothing at all but playing poker. You can't tune out, or surf the Internet, or make pleasant conversation in your downtime, as with other jobs. After enough time at the table you will forget what pleasant conversation is.
- It's boring to non-poker-addicts. As with real estate law, there are many fascinating intricacies. As with real estate law, you don't actually want to hear about the intricacies unless you are in the same field. After you are done boring people with stories about how you hit a set on the river and won blah blah amount of money, you will start boring people with your rationalization about why it's okay to gamble and why you are not an addict.
- It's smelly. People in casinos have terrible hygiene. Even if you are not personally dirty, there's an excellent chance that you're sitting next to someone who has been there for 4 straight days without eating sleeping or showering. Those pretty shiny chips you gamble with have been in the hands of someone with Lyme disease. Even if you are not a loser, in order to win you have to constantly surround yourself with losers who are swimming in their own filth.
- It's not really Shana Hiatt's favorite sport. (Even when watching the show I can kind of tell in her delivery that the back of her brain is going, "What is the Big Deal...?") I often see big gamblers bring their girlfriends into the casino, and the girlfriends inevitably get bored, while the boyfriends ignore them completely to fixate on the game. I'm guilty of this myself, and it's not "focusing on the game," it's more like temporary insanity. The only women who actually get interested in the table action to the obsessive degree that the pro poker player does, are, of course, female poker players, but they are using their feminine wiles to disrupt your game and get your money, not your phone number. At the risk of a sexist generalization, I'd bet that 50% of the women in the casino on a Friday night are waiting patiently to leave, and the other 50% are gamblers. On the table, you're better off being on your own anyway....at least, better off in the poker department.
- It's expensive. Without belaboring the obvious, it's not expensive in the sexy way that new cars or other shiny things are expensive. Besides money, it costs valuable years of your life, and brain cells.
....Maybe this is part of the new trend to emasculate the Asian male. Except in this case we're demasculating ourselves by giving into our historically horrendous gambling inclination, and thereby sacrificing not only money, but a huge amount of game.
Shoeshiners
There's this subclass of gamblers within the casino called shoeshiners. Typically, they hang out behind the seated players and look for a handout. They appoint themselves the mascot of whomever seems to have money and hope that that person will give them a hundred dollars to go away. Shoeshining takes many different forms, from sexual flirtation to mindless cheerleading, but the most dedicated and aggressive of the shoeshiners are the Asians. The amazing thing about them is how, given that they already start from a position of panhandling, they manage to make themselves even more worthless by the things they do to play"host" to their victim/player, who is already being hosted quite nicely by the casino staff. A few common forms of shoeshining assistance:
- They handle the player's money and arrange their bet nicely for them. There's one guy who is always doing this, even when the bet is already placed correctly, sometimes stacking it wrong so the bet goes over the table limit. Trying to be helpful.
- Counting action on the table, advising the player to buy action (theoretically so he can win more and have more to give away). This is ALWAYS wrong. As bad as most of the players are at counting, somehow the shoeshiners are worse, yet they offer their misinformation repeatedly, again in the hopes of appearing helpful.
- Calling service people and attending to the player's food and drink. This is, you guessed it, useless, since the casino already has a full staff that is also eager to receive tips. The shoeshiner tries to intercept the tips before they get to the casino staff which is actually performing a service.
- Shouting out incorrect information about everything: the table limit, people's names, the collection amounts, everything.
- "Rooting" for their player. This is probably the most hilarious thing they do, because it amounts to a play-by-play commentary on the very very obvious. "If they hadn't pulled that six you wounda won." "You hot now you won three in a row." "You made the right decision." It's as if they can read their own minds.
- Where it gets personal is when they start trying to liason between me, the corporation player, and their player, by shouting out the price of prop bets and how much change I'm supposed to give them. "One thousand -- 25 dollars," they tell the player, who already knows this because he's been paying the same price for the past four hours. "Fifty dollars change," they'll tell me, because it is possible that in the half-minute elapsed since our last identical transaction, I have forgotten how to make change.
I'm not against panhandling altogether, but the shoeshiners lack even the dignity of a guy on the street with a cup, because they posture like they're playing in the big time.
- They handle the player's money and arrange their bet nicely for them. There's one guy who is always doing this, even when the bet is already placed correctly, sometimes stacking it wrong so the bet goes over the table limit. Trying to be helpful.
- Counting action on the table, advising the player to buy action (theoretically so he can win more and have more to give away). This is ALWAYS wrong. As bad as most of the players are at counting, somehow the shoeshiners are worse, yet they offer their misinformation repeatedly, again in the hopes of appearing helpful.
- Calling service people and attending to the player's food and drink. This is, you guessed it, useless, since the casino already has a full staff that is also eager to receive tips. The shoeshiner tries to intercept the tips before they get to the casino staff which is actually performing a service.
- Shouting out incorrect information about everything: the table limit, people's names, the collection amounts, everything.
- "Rooting" for their player. This is probably the most hilarious thing they do, because it amounts to a play-by-play commentary on the very very obvious. "If they hadn't pulled that six you wounda won." "You hot now you won three in a row." "You made the right decision." It's as if they can read their own minds.
- Where it gets personal is when they start trying to liason between me, the corporation player, and their player, by shouting out the price of prop bets and how much change I'm supposed to give them. "One thousand -- 25 dollars," they tell the player, who already knows this because he's been paying the same price for the past four hours. "Fifty dollars change," they'll tell me, because it is possible that in the half-minute elapsed since our last identical transaction, I have forgotten how to make change.
I'm not against panhandling altogether, but the shoeshiners lack even the dignity of a guy on the street with a cup, because they posture like they're playing in the big time.
The Last Piece of Sushi (a film by Bernardo Bertolucci with Tom Cruise)
EXT. ASIA
Three pieces of sushi sit beneath the falling cherry blossoms.
KAPPAMAKI: The old ways are dying.
FUTOMAKI: The old rolls are dying.
TOM CRUISE ROLL (AN ORPHANED TIGER SHRIMP DESPERATELY TRYING TO SURPASS THE LEGACY OF HIS LEGENDARY FATHER SHRIMP, AVOCADO, AND CREAM CHEESE): Westerners are so stupid.
KAPPAMAKI: I have dreamed of a modern Japan. With a powerful sex industry, and DVD players that are better than anyone else's DVD players. Now we have Dragon Rolls, Chicago Rolls, Bacon-Wrapped Low-Carb Alfalfa Rolls. But we must never forget....who we are.
FUTOMAKI: Who are we?
(impales self in stomach)
TOM CRUISE ROLL: You are a beautiful people. SAKE! SAKE! SAKE!
TAMAGO (BEAUTIFUL EGG NIGIRI IN FEMININE SEAWEED WRAP, WITH CREAM CHEESE): Dozo, Tom Cruise-san.
TOM CRUISE ROLL: I am...sorry for colonizing your beautiful country.
TAMAGO: Bite me.
TOM CRUISE ROLL: I'm not that sorry.
FUTOMAKI: The tempura! It is...perfect.
(starts to croak)
KAPPAMAKI: Let us die!
(impales self on sword, dies)
TAMAGO: For a dream that was Japan!
(impales self on sword, dies)
TOM CRUISE ROLL: Me too!
(impales self on swollen male member)
FUTOMAKI: And a child shall lead us.
(dies)
TOM CRUISE ROLL: Haha I was just kidding. I'm still alive.
FADE TO BLACK.
Three pieces of sushi sit beneath the falling cherry blossoms.
KAPPAMAKI: The old ways are dying.
FUTOMAKI: The old rolls are dying.
TOM CRUISE ROLL (AN ORPHANED TIGER SHRIMP DESPERATELY TRYING TO SURPASS THE LEGACY OF HIS LEGENDARY FATHER SHRIMP, AVOCADO, AND CREAM CHEESE): Westerners are so stupid.
KAPPAMAKI: I have dreamed of a modern Japan. With a powerful sex industry, and DVD players that are better than anyone else's DVD players. Now we have Dragon Rolls, Chicago Rolls, Bacon-Wrapped Low-Carb Alfalfa Rolls. But we must never forget....who we are.
FUTOMAKI: Who are we?
(impales self in stomach)
TOM CRUISE ROLL: You are a beautiful people. SAKE! SAKE! SAKE!
TAMAGO (BEAUTIFUL EGG NIGIRI IN FEMININE SEAWEED WRAP, WITH CREAM CHEESE): Dozo, Tom Cruise-san.
TOM CRUISE ROLL: I am...sorry for colonizing your beautiful country.
TAMAGO: Bite me.
TOM CRUISE ROLL: I'm not that sorry.
FUTOMAKI: The tempura! It is...perfect.
(starts to croak)
KAPPAMAKI: Let us die!
(impales self on sword, dies)
TAMAGO: For a dream that was Japan!
(impales self on sword, dies)
TOM CRUISE ROLL: Me too!
(impales self on swollen male member)
FUTOMAKI: And a child shall lead us.
(dies)
TOM CRUISE ROLL: Haha I was just kidding. I'm still alive.
FADE TO BLACK.
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