1948


According to a new poll of Americans between the ages of 44 and 75, 61% said that running out money was their biggest fear. The remaining 39% thought death was scarier.

I am not one to be surprised by much. It has been an inch-by-inch crawl to hell, that we of a certain age have witnessed. Little shocks, little cuts over time…time heals all wounds. They heal, they scar…then even the scar fades to a fine line attesting to our battles…won or lost . What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger…yeah, yeah…I know.

But it’s moving too fast now.
” They” are getting impatient and falling prey to their own voracious gut-churning appetites. Our wounds haven’t had time to heal, let alone scar or vanish into a new form.



A thousand little cuts and they are coming too quickly.


I was at a casino over the weekend and one of these still-bleeding wounds was open for all to see. While I was there, their slot-machine computers went down. As it was explained to me, most slot machines and video gaming on a certain system all over the east coast and Midwest had stopped working. Hacked? Glitch? Who knows. The upshot was that if you had won anything on these machines and pushed the “cash out” button…nothing happened. No pay-out ticket. A light on the top of the slot would blink and you had to wait there for an attendant to come and give you a voucher to get your winnings. Sometimes…hours. Many just left a few dollar winnings and moved on. No biggie, right?


It was as if hundreds of children had been told en mass that there was no Santa Claus. Shock. Anger. Threats filled the air in the many casino rooms as machine after machine began blinking then eventually went dark. The staff was of course apologizing left and right…but it wasn’t helping. They were the wrong ones apologizing. Everyone knew that you couldn’t get TOO nasty with these folks in their black vests, running around trying to get everyone their money and cool tempers. They weren’t the culprits. They just work for the machine. Lackeys like themselves shouldn’t be verbally abused. It wasn’t their fault. But abuse they got. That nice elderly lady that I was chatting with so enjoyably as we sipped our drinks and congratulated each others little wins, turned into an angry venting wench before my eyes… in minutes. It was a contract broken and someone was going to hear about it. It was all about greed. The air was thick with it. It was an ugly embarrassing thing to watch and hear. But there you have it.


The obsession for gambling has been with us since cave-dwelling days probably. One more turn…all that. But it came into being as a legal industry here in the US, when returning soldiers from WWII stopped over from bus and car trips across Nevada, in a little town that a few jews had built to make a fast buck off the military that had just been paid. Remember that the true edge of decline in this god-forsaken hell-hole of a country, can always be traced to those years…around 1948. This is when the hebrew hit the jackpot. And we all lost. The real beginning of consumerism. This is when distance lost it charm…with the advent of ridiculous air-travel…the romance of trains became a thing of the past, while semi-trucks began to rip up our roads and make a leisurely drive a gamble with life and limb. Television stole our children’s lives with shameful worthless debauchery. The Palestinians lost their homeland. The holohoax was hatched from an unnatural mother of greed. All these wounds. All these jews. All that healing to do.
And now we gamble without shame and pay the truckers, and give our lives and our children to television and it’s lies and it’s wars. So many scars from the recent past. Now so many wounds to bandage. It can all be traced to the tribe…we will succumb to blood loss before we can heal now. They know.

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