Monday, July 25, 2011

Give Me Something I can Taste

    The power of the strip club.

    I think that the strip club has its benefit in society and it’s sometimes confused by those people who look upon it with a jaundiced eye. I think that the same error is used when judging the purpose or reason behind the casino. Is there such a thing as a healthy reason behind these two establishments? And should people feel bad because they frequent these places? Some questions huh? Do you ever wonder what makes me think like this?

    Well recently I was on IRC with friends and this came up as a point of discussion. It was interesting because I hang out at both places. Well actually I hang out at titty bars more than casinos, but I can see the use and misuse of them both. I can see where there is a bit of disrespect and misunderstanding between individuals in the ‘machinery’ so to speak, and I can see the dichotomy between what is real and what is perceived.

    Why is that? Because I’m a fucking hobo, that’s why. I have the vision of Naught. When you have nothing, and come from nothing, then you are given a clearer view of things that most don’t have. Money changes and colors everything. The more you have, the changes in your perception of the world is drastic. The less you have, the complete opposite your vision. I have ‘opposing vision.’ I am what the fuck I am.

    So now, let us talk about casinos.

    I remember going to one in Las Vegas once in my life. I’m not a big casino type of guy. It’s not my thing. I don’t need money, I have no love for the stuff. Some people look at casinos as a money making opportunity. They cater dreams that they will walk in and walk out millionaires. Some people take this dream too far and become stalwart gamblers, feeding their addictions like a crack addict would their drug of choice. Money, the greed, the need. Some people view casinos as a huge, brightly neon lit ATM and they have the card.

    Me? I see a casino as a place to waste money. Games of chance are tilted towards the House. The House is the clear winner in these games. Like in a carnival. There will be more losers than winners. Look around you. You’re not gambling in a fucking shack. You in multi-million dollar edifices, with flashing lights, and partially dressed waitresses and armed guards. What pays for this walking, talking circus of lights and money? You LOSING. If you don’t lose, this place would cease to exist. So when I go, I go for the drinks, the music, the fun and the whores. Mostly the whores. Throw cash up in the air. You stand just an equal chance of winning as if you played the games.

    Get a hot bitch on your arm, go to a table and make a dumb fuck of yourself. Drink until security comes and escorts you off the premises or to your room and stick twenties down into the cleavage of every woman you come across. That’s the point. You’re there to spend money, not to make money. People who come out of these places with forty and seventy dollars are still fucked because they had the overpriced drinks and dinner. They still lost.

    But put the shit in per- spective. You don’t go to the neighbor- hood carnival and play their games of chance expecting to win a million dollar future do you? You expect to win a teddy bear or a baseball, maybe even a pinwheel with the little candy in it’s stem. But you don’t go there to walk off like Howard Hughes. Well do the same for yourself at these big casinos. Don’t bother going to become a millionaire. Go to have fun. Make a damn fool out of yourself, and pick up a whore or two. Cop some excellent stash and drink up a storm. Dance on quarters, throw dollars in the air, pinch a passing ass or two and give yourself credit. You are there to enjoy yourself.

    Now, that’s the thing about casinos that I wanted to say my piece, now how about strip clubs.

    I have a lot to say about this, but the truth is, there is not enough space on this blog post for it, so I’ll end here with the casinos being my first part of this essay and I will continue tomorrow with the other half, the stripper half of the essay. How does that sound to you?

    I hope I don’t get killed by a black bear or wild boar or something before then.

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