I'm Winning!

So they're talking about gambling in Massachusetts, and not just at Indian casinos, either. Real, state-run, actual casinos. At least that's how I understand it, anyway, and I haven't been much paying attention, because I think the whole thing is just this side of sleaze-a-rific.

But then, in today's paper, an article about the whole shebang about how some people who live here would be so excited to not have to drive all the way to Connecticut to throw their money down the toilet (they have better plumbing in Connecticut, apparently).

Now, I'm not being completely fair (which, I know, is so unlike me). We have the lottery, which is gambling, and which Johnny plays religiously, and which is, in fact, how we managed to come up with the down payment for our house (ya-freakin'-hoo). So I'm not going to get on any higher of a horse about this one. Except to say, in my own snobbish way, that it's not the morals of it or the waste that bothers me -- hell, if you're dumb enough to waste your money that way, then I might just marry you! No, it's the people it attracts (the non-cute-Irish kind of people) I can't stand.

When I was little, I had long hair. I mean long-long. Sit-on-it-when-its-braided kind of long. Down-past-my-calves-when-it-wasn't-braided kind of long. Strangers used to comment on it. Everyone wanted to touch it. I used to ask my mom to keep the ugly ones away from me. And the dirty ones. But mostly the ugly ones. "Please don't let the ugly people touch my hair," I used to beg her. Nice, huh? Bodes well for my compassionate adulthood, does it not? Anyway...

This article in today's Globe about the prospect of state- (or, I suppose we should say Commonwealth-) run gambling has a bunch of interviews with a bunch of people they scraped up off the parking lot at Foxwoods (big Indian casino in Connecticut, for those of you from elsewhere). There's a picture of this one guy, with a pull quote from him off to the left.

"Oh, man, I'd be psyched," he says. "There's not a game I don't like. And free drinks all night!" The attribution reads: John Doe (they give a real name, but I won't, because I'm fixin' to defame), Foxwoods regular and Weymouth resident.

Townville. Lovely. I live where these people come from. I come from where these people live. Might's well go ahead and build the damn thing, then, governor. Put all that good tire-biter money to work right here at home.



But then there was this article in the business section, which is why I titled this post what I did. Huzzah! For once, something seems to have worked out in my favor.

What do you think, should I hitch a ride with the tire-biters down to Mohegan Sun this weekend?