I went to a casino in Tunica, Mississippi yesterday. Casinos are a funny thing. No matter where you are...Las Vegas, Minnesota, or Tunica, the minute you step inside those doors, they are all the same. I always feel a little guilty when I go to casino. I feel like an enabler to the addicts like I am saying, "What you do is okay because I am doing it too". I try to stick to the penny and nickel machines since I accept long before I enter the casino that I am not there to win money, but rather loose my money.
The kind of gambling that I do at the casino takes no skill or thought, just a way to waste time until Tim comes and finds me and tells me that he has lost at the Blackjack table.
I am not offended or turned off by casinos or gamblings. I find them facinating in all their gawdiness and misplaced hope. Where else can you go where smoking is so revered that they place ashtrays in the restroom stalls? They bring you free drinks. They make the slot machines sound charming with their bells and rings in order for you to have no idea if your machine is winning or not.
It seems that I might be a bad gambler since I never win, but I think that make me a good gambler because I rarely return. They won the battle, but I won the war.