From: howard@sinoda.ultra.COM (Howard Simonson)
Subject: Something for everyone, a comedy tonight (part 2)
Reply-To: howard@ultra.com
Organization: Ultra Network Technologies
Date: Fri, 24 Jul 92 00:39:43 GMT

We interrupt the Kelly & Samuelson show for this unimportant message...

****************

Enough requests!  You want the rest of the article, well here it is.
(I find the escalator bit hits my funny bone :)

[ Curtis, I will put the two sections together and mail you a copy.
  If you don't get it, let me know. ]

Once again, the intro:  [ I picked up a copy of ]...

the Reno Gazette-Journal I believe, and happened across the following article,
excerpted without permission, but with full credit:

Items from the Reno Gazette-Journal, April 16-22, 1992
Headline: Sometimes, gamblers can say the craziest things
"Dealer's Choice" column, by Janne Hanrahan
Bio: Janne is a free-lance writer & has been in the gaming industry for 9 yrs.

And now, the exciting conclusion:

``O n e   o f   R e n o   R e d ' s   m a n y ,   m a n y   s t o r i e s

I knew good old Reno Red would have a story for me.  He has a story for
everything.  Red says he was dealing on a 21 game one night that included
a lady wearing a loose fitting tube top.  The top slipped a little farther
down with each movement until soon, all was revealed.

Ever the trained professional, Red remained abreast...er, on top... of the
situation.  He flipped over his cards and took a hit. Then another hit.
And another.  And another, and another, and another.

When he finally remembered to *look* at his cards, he discovered that his
hand totaled something like 48.  He called a pit boss for a decision on
what to do.  As duty required, the boss looked over the situation and
made a ruling: "Winners.  Uh, pay'em all."

I know this sounds like a sexist statement, but it seems to me that male
dealers get more shook up over things like that than women dealers.  Case
in point:  When Freddy Flasher stopped and dropped 'em in front of veteran
dealer Lorraine's table one night, he was counting on a gasp, at the very
least.

But Lorraine just kept on dealing.  The players with their backs to Freddy,
just kept playing and Freddy, pants puddled around his feet, just kept
standing.

Finally, Lorraine glanced up -- and continued shuffling, no change in
expression.  In desperation, Freddy looked around, certain that *someone*
would react *somehow*.  Nothing.  At last, bored and depressed, Freddy
zipped up and zipped out.

One night, an obviously wealthy woman was playing craps on my game.  She
didn't appear to like the game much, probably because she had to bring her
nose down off the ceiling to bet.

She did get into a conversation with my friend Billy, maybe because nobody
can resist Billy or maybe because Slum Night bylaws require that she
address at least one inferior.  At any rate, when Billy asked where she
lived, she went on and on about the luxuries of Upper Snootyville, the
Bay area neighborhood where her nose normally maintains its elevated state.

Looking at Billy the way a $100 bill might look at a dime, she asked:
"Do you...ah...know the area?"

To her surprise, Billy answered (in the same uptown accent she used):
"Oh, yaaas, I'm *quite* familyah with it.  I used to burglarize homes
in that area."

W o u l d   y o u   b e l i e v e...

As for dumb questions, there was the lady who entered a club recently at a
dead run, jogged past a city block's worth of slot machines and 21 tables,
came to stop in front of my craps game and asked breathlessly: "Quick!  Can
you tell me how to get to the casino?  Where's the casino?"

John Potter, a former showroom maitre d', has heard some *really* dumb ones.
Potter says when people asked the location of a certain casino restaurant,
he always gave them simple directions:  take the escalator.

As often as not, he says, the next question would be:
"All the way to the top?"

Naw.  Wait till you're halfway up, then jump.  Sheesh.

Many times, Potter says, people would stand outside the showroom watching
the band play, then come to him and ask: "Is this the band that's playing
now?"

(Aw come on, John, don't you recognize a philosophical inquiry when you
hear one?  That's obviously a version of the old tree-falls-in-the-forest,
dead-cat-in-the-box conundrum.  If a band's playing in a showroom, see, but
I'm not in there, but I can *see* them...well, uh,...*you* know.)

But some people who ask silly questions are at least polite.  Once, Potter
says, a lady ran up, scanned the marquee, then asked: "Is it only on Tuesday?"

"Is WHAT only on Tuesday?" Potter asked in turn.

Thank you," the lady replied, and rushed off again.''

******************  And now we return to our program, already in progress...

So that's all of it.  I'll throw in the trailer:

"If you have any questions about gaming, write to Janne Hanrahan,
 Reno Gazette-Journal, P.O. Box 22, Reno, NV 89520."

Maybe we should ask *her* what to do with A8 vs. dealer 6 :)
(And I wonder if she has a sister named Kelly??? :)

-- 
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|J -------- |  |   \  |   \  |     |       |    |   |  || |
|  |/\=== | |  |   /  |   /  |     |       |    |   |  || |
|------------- |---   |---   ---   ----    |    |   |  || | Um, hang on a
||A          | |      |\     |        |    |    |   |  || |  second, will ya,
||    /^\    | |      | \    |        |    |    |   |     |   I think I hear a
||   /   \   | |      |  \   ----  ----    |    -----  [] |    pig singing???
||  / /|\ \  |____________________________________________|
||  L/_|_\J  |                                            |
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