Might be the last blog post for a while...

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Vegas Baby has been in a funk for a few days lately. His atrocious financial problems are overwhelming his ADDled brain.

He expects the cable company to cut off his Internet connection tonight since his check by phone payment bounced this morning.

So, Vegas Baby is thinking of any last things he might wanna say to the three and a half readers of his blog....

There is a minor controversy at his casino about which hand to use to pay the 2 spots that are to the dealer's left on a multi-deck blackjack game. The issue is when a dealer pays those spots with his right hand then he basically turns his back on the right hand spot (third base), leaving open the possibility that player could cap his bet or something. He was trained to pay with his left hand to prevent such a thing. So, when he saw Liao, the sweet, mild-mannered new dealer, pay with her right and corrected her on it she said she was trained that way.

So Vegas Baby brought it up to a floorman and he agreed with her, pointing out it would cause the dealer to no longer cover the exposed card on the shoe and decrease game protection. Another floorman told him paying with the right hand was Imperial Princess's policy but a left handed payment was so small an issue they don't correct dealers on that during a game. That floorman also said since the third base player is already paid off at the end of a hand then there is no longer a concern about him capping his bet.

So, the next hour Vegas Baby was on a multideck game the first base player busted and as he went to pick up his lost bet he realized that indeed at this point in the game his back would be to the third base player. So, he decided to stick with his training on that.

He called Vegas Mom about it and she said her standard, "Do what the Floor says, don't argue..." but also said it was ridiculous to pay with one's right hand. The first floorman said in order to avoid third base capping to "walk the table" which means step toward the first base player when taking the bet with the right hand to make it easier to keep an eye on third base. But the right handed action still seems to Vegas Baby to make his back turn too much to effectively protect third base.

Vegas Baby thinks the value of covering the front card on the shoe is low compared to preventing capping a third base bet....

For any dealers who might be reading this (all one of you), what say you? Vegas Baby wants to know.

Kudos To The Most Powerful Black Man In America

and quite vilified too, since he doesn't fit the politically correct mold of a powerful black man.

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Clarence Thomas who grew up facing discrimination, segregation, utter poverty (he once lived in an unheated house with no plumbing and raw sewage in the backyard) under a deeply principled father figure went on to become a Justice of the Supreme Court.

For that and his unapologetic conservative views he was said to be not black enough, an Uncle Tom,

amongst other things and at his confirmation hearings in the US Senate he was bullied and browbeaten in a liberal litany typical of qualified conservative judicial appointees, but then came Anita Hill who falsely accused him of sexually harassing him. The sheer ludicrousness of her claims are another story.

But this man stopped the liberal crank senators in their tracks and left them speechless with one simple statement. After which they went on to send his nomination to the floor where he was successfully confirmed. The bold and truthful statement that shut the mouths of his detractors? Well, here it is:

This is a circus. It's a national disgrace. And from my standpoint, as a black American, it is a high-tech lynching for uppity blacks who in any way deign to think for themselves, to do for themselves, to have different ideas, and it is a message that unless you kowtow to an old order, this is what will happen to you. You will be lynched, destroyed, caricatured by a committee of the U.S. Senate rather than hung from a tree.

You can hear it for yourself at 5:25 of this YouTube video, which is part 3 of a 60 Minutes interview last Sunday of Clarence Thomas.


Well, this week his autobiography was released, My Grandfather's Son. I bought it as fast as I could. You can get it from Barnes and Noble, but it must be selling fast because they take 1 to 3 weeks to ship, Amazon takes 3 to 6. I bought it at the local Borders.


Let me recommend this books, folks, it shows how a great thinker was shaped by his childhood. It shows the struggle and sufferings one must endure to achieve greatness. If you want to be great, read it and take the lessons to heart.

*** Vegas Baby knows this is a departure from his usual writing style, but he was overcome with passion for the truth and admiration for a truly great man and could not help himself. So deal with it.

Dark days ahead...

Once more doubts about his successful future assails Vegas Baby....

He is awash in cash debt. New car's down payment, insurance and registration has absolutely no room in his weak, spindly budget. He realized he should have seen this coming, but when it comes to details, he rarely has such foresight....

And to complicate matters he made a huge mistake and totally depleted his bank account. He felt the extreme fool with $8 to his name for another 10 days before payday.


Sooo, on his Task List on his smartphone he has a) pick up button extenders and b) get $2500.

And to think, he spent $2000 on his dying Caddy's cooling system just before it overheated and killed the engine.

Oooh, he could use that money now. That was the last of his savings from his 6 years in the credit card industry. But, he does have his angel who is gonna send him $350 which is a big sigh of relief....

Saving The World

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She really doesn't believe that I am saving the world by playing Solitaire and drumming to music. I explained to her how I was beating back the dark forces of defeatism every time I won a game- which she calls Patience in her British manner, they have such silly ways with the English language.

“I began to realize the import of winning at Solitaire, Mary, when I noticed that just before I would win it would appear so bleak. The right card just wouldn't show up and there was the looming threat of the order I was trying to create being bogged down by the forces of chaos.” I said to her over a few pints of ale. That's Anglo for beer, silly Brits.

“Rubbish!” was all she said.

“Yes, dear, I was winning out over the rubbish of the cosmos!” I said, wiping my chin and looking at her hazel, mocking eyes. She has constantly insulted me from the week I fell in love with her. Apparently the Redcoats think that's endearing. I still hadn't forgiven her for calling me an idiot in front of my friends during the Superbowl last year.

I waved my hands in the air. “You see, we are in a constant battle with chaos, the waste of the world clouding our creative expressions. And when I win at Solitaire, when I persevere once again at the task of organizing that small universe and pay no attention to the nagging doubts clawing at the back of my brain, telling me to just give up, it's useless and will get me nowhere- when I overcome all obstacles strewn in my path, I add to the victory and success of the whole planet! Don't you see?”

“Pillock!” Was her brief reply. I looked at her, trying to remember the distinction between pillock and bullocks and bollocks, my mind swimming in more confusion. There were thoughts of idiots, big male steer and testicles rolling around in my head.

“And when I do synchronized percussion to my favorite songs I am also beating back the forces of chaos....” I said, downing the last of my ale.

“Synchronized percussion, bloody hell, you cheeky bugger!”

“What?” I protested.

“Your use of English is a bit overmuch, you pikey.” She said, and then tossed back the last of her ale. “You really mean drumming- synchronized percussion... really!”

“Well, it denotes more of what I wanna say. Drumming is- is so generic!”

“Rubbish! It's the everyday way of speaking. You've been reading too much Macbeth, my literary genius...not!” She said, her hazel eyes once again mocking me. “And don't use denote, pah- ur such a ham.”

I sighed and said, “So, you really don't believe I'm bringing one iota of good into the world?”

“Not by your Patience and banging your fingers on the table top, you silly bugger. You do it by being open and kind and by spouting your values in your silly, playful way.” She said, her soft green eyes staring directly into mine.

“Hmmm,” I said, “Mary of South London... I love you.”

A new car? He thinks he might be out of the woods...

"A Chevrolet HHR... wtf is an HHR?" Vegas Baby thought to himself. "Oh, that's what it is... yuck!"




It ain't no



and it sure ain't no



but beggars can't be choosers and he was very grateful that he was driving instead of walking and taking the gorram bus.... AND it has COLD air conditioning, is zippy enough for a 4 banger, has a decent sound system and it's NEW! That's an odd feeling, a brand new car, maybe he'll make it after all, he thought to himself....

Vegas Baby had consigned himself to the state of carlessness in his heart of hearts. Then a mailer came from Fletcher Jones Chevrolet claiming he could get funded for a car note and to call and submit this secret code and he would be told how much. "Yeah, right," Vegas Baby thought to himself. BUT he did just get approved for a couple teeny credit cards and maybe....

The dealership called him the very next day and after mulling it over for a few days, he thought he might as well go in and see what could happen. He was only on the new job for 3 months and just before that he got turned down four times by other car dealerships on a $12,000 car and had no money for a down payment, so Vegas Baby thought his chances for getting approved for a car were about the same as his chances of finding a good woman- wait- he did find a good woman! Hmmmm....




So, he went in and Fletch himself


asked him, "What about a new car?" after looking at an 05 Nissan Sentra with 26,000 miles on it and he said, "Sure...." And the rest is history.

As Vegas Baby was writing this blog post, Fletch just called him and told him the loan was approved and his payments would be lower than predicted and to come in tomorrow to sign the documents. "Wow," the future millionaire thought to himself, "a good woman, generous friends, healthy kids, a new career, and now, a new car... all this and heaven, too!"

Confessions of Vegas Baby and Can One Really Love One's Job? And Dangerous Thugs

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10 at night and no ride- Dealer Buddy got off an hour before Vegas Baby- so it's a $2 ride on the behemoth bus home.

Vegas Baby raised an old friend on AIM in West Virginia, a college student genius. That helped to pass the boring bus ride time.

His international lover told him the day before that she'll be largely unavailable that day so he didn't try to hard to sms her. He forgot that they frequently posted their daily doings on twitter.com. There is even a way they can send their sms's to each other to avoid international text charges, but he couldn't figure out how to do that.

Vegas Baby remarked to his self about how much he loved the casino industry. He always liked to play 21 and discovered during his pit clerk job that he loved to serve people. Pit clerking was only the 2nd job in 31 years of working that he loved. And he felt the same about dealing.

During his first couple weeks, when he was just learning the huge amounts of little details of pit clerking, he despaired that he would be terminally bored at it. But after mastering the basics he found he loved meeting the needs of the players, dealers, floormen and pit bosses.

His greatest delight was meeting a need discerned by his intuition and observation before anyone asked him to do anything. Sorta like Radar O'Riley on MASH.


He thought for years that his was a sales-oriented personality, since he spent years selling on the phone in different capacities. First as a hardcore telemarketer then as a customer service rep in a credit card call center then as a collections agent for the same bank.

But this pit clerking job taught him that he had a deep need to meet other people's needs. At the same time that he discovered this, geniusbabe, his second fave friend on Second Life, told him after he showed her this line he composed at his pit clerk job one night, "I am your ally, I am your servant. Together we will vanquish every foe," that he may really enjoy exploring the BDSM role of a "sub." to which he replied, "bullshit, I'm too independent for that." her patient explanation of such role-playing made him think twice.

He never took it up, though, realizing that he didn't really fit that mold. There were very few molds he did fit....



On the bus he chatted up 1 of 3 girls he mistook as Italians but were actually from the Czech Republic. She expressed surprise at his age and that he didn't look European at all.

After the girls got off, Vegas Baby made the mistake of cocking his head to the side and glancing back at some noise coming from some punk's music player, loud and distorted which repeated over and over. Two black teens then got up from the back of the bus and sat next to him and the one closest to him started dancing in his seat, singing snatches of rap and staring straight at Vegas Baby. After a couple minutes Vegas Baby looked at the dancing boy and the black kid stared back at him and gyrated, rolling his head back and forth.




Before he could think, Vegas Baby said in a loud voice, "Are you fucking with me?" The negro youth simply stared at him and gyrated.

His cohort spoke up, "Nigger just enjoying his music."

Vegas Baby, knowing his mood would not allow him to stay silent and that there were several more black youths behind them, stood up and walked down the stairs of the doubledecker. While the Negroes said a few more words.

The Deuce turned in to the DTC and he got off, carefully monitoring their movements behind him. He heard one of the Negro teens say, "Are you fucking with me?"

He wished he had a gun once again. And he was relieved they walked to the opposite end of the depot.

He decided not to wait at the depot for the 35 mins before the next 215 E left. He walked the 100 yards to Fremont Street.

On then way he saw a production crew working on a commercial for IHOP.

Once ensconced at the Four Queens he counted his change and bought the football full of beer, 40 ounces for $9, including tip, and stayed in the air conditioned casino free of Negro youths.

Questions in the dark

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As he strode through the streets on a hot, sweaty night seeking his home, Vegas Baby asked himself, "Do future millionaires actually walk the dark streets of ghetto Vegas cuz they're too poor to drive?"