Three Types of Time

On a quiet, cloudy Sunday afternoon somewhere between the NFL Play-offs and the start of Baseball's regular season, one is left to contemplate. The timing of Hunter S. Thompson's suicide coincided with the end of the Football season, to which he was addicted. The way the Patriot's season ended, I actually had to ask myself why I spend an inordinate amount of time following "professional" sports. I changed the default channel on the cable from ESPN to CNN and stopped listening to sports radio for a week. But I have cash riding on the Celtics and the Rockets so I knew I was bound to tune in again, with or without the Sox, so why fight it?

I had considered becoming religious again if only to have some pre-planned activities on Sundays. I should probably go back and delete the "again" from that last sentence, but it stays as a hollow nod to all that time spent through First Communion before I realized I didn't like doughnuts. Even if there was an urge, I've read The End of Faith by Sam Harris and whether you agree with him or not, you are reminded of what a mixed bag the whole organized religion thing can be. I, like many, are happy to observe holidays but not holy days and be a devout follower of the American religion of consumerism.

The point at which consideration of time and consumption come together is commercial gambling. Before I went to a casino for the first time, I believed that there were two categories of time: human and cosmological. If it all works out for you, expect to have around 28,000 days on this planet or in a near Earth orbit. Those 77 years have the width of less than a human hair on a chart showing the eons the universe has been churning. I used to wonder what went before and what will come after. The last time that happened I was on a business trip and was trying to see how much of the in-room adult entertainment one could watch as a free preview before the system locked, turns out it's three minutes, and those precious three minutes made the eternity of existence pretty unimpressive.

Once I went to casino, I realized that there is a third category of time that falls somewhere in between days and eons, though tends more towards the eons. With windows blackened and oxygen pumped in through overhead vents, I was shocked to hear the announcement the casino would close in ten minutes. This casino is in Europe where they actually think it unfair to continue fleecing people well past their bedtime. Still it was three in the morning and I was sure it was 8:35 pm. Within the complex fold of time that takes place among the buzzing and dinging of slot machines and constant security video surveillance, is the patience of those machines.

Once called "one armed bandits" for the clunky lever on the side used to activate the consumption of your money, slot machines have grown up a lot in the last couple of decades along with video game technology. Certain spins result in bonus rounds activated on separate screens that turn into video shorts about how much of your money they are returning to you. You have options not to play one credit, no point in saying coin as most casinos are going metal-less, or three credits but 25 credits or more. Nickel machines quickly morph into $2.25 a go. What has not changed is the carnival like sounds each machine projects with 250w speakers turned to 11. With all the sights and sounds, they give the impression they are in a hurry, but watching someone sit for five or six hours at the same machine, or worse being the one sitting there, starts to impress upon the more rational side of your mind just how long it will be before the progressive jackpot comes spewing out, not in a load of coins, but in a neatly printed receipt. Again, more towards the eon end of the ledger.

But when it hits, it's as if that potentially real deity above smacked you on the back and said, "now that's the way!" God as compared to the con man at Trump's Taj Mahal who segued congratulations on a small win to a story about how he was tapped and just found out his son died and he needed cash to get back to New York City. But how to have the good of addictive gambling without the bad of losing all your money and time? That was my question too.

On the money issue, I have copyrighted the business plan for a chain of resorts called "Co-sinos", the first not for profit casino chain. Instead of paying out a miniscule portion of wagers, only operating costs and staff salaries would be deducted. Everything else would be returned to the consumer. While this all sounds good, I haven't moved ahead with developing the first property as there is a bit of a problem. While no one would lose much, like the sticky sweet rush of methadone is a poor substitute for heroin, no one would win much either. Since gambling is essentially inequitable taxation on the lower and middle classes who want to rise to the status of the rich and large cash prizes stimulate the chemical reward centers in our brains, no one in the focus group I ran stuck around for more than a couple of hours before hopping on the bus to Foxwoods. I may try it again, but with a little heavier subsidy on the price of the buffet.

The second idea, also laboriously documented with the US Office for Patents and Copyrights in Alexandria, VA, is "Casino Express" the first drive through casino chain. To ensure the success of this concept I combined it with a liquor store and plan to launch it only in States that allow vendors to provide a cup with ice when selling spirits. Instead of wasting all that time having your head filled with annoying sounds and flashing lights that follow you home and infest your sleep, you simply drive up, stump up the amount you planned to gamble and the games you tend to play. The helpful attendant keys in your wager and the computer runs a complex algorithm that determines how much you won or lost. A visit to Casino express would typically go like this.

Helpful Attendant: "Good evening, Mr. Smith" (Casino Express has a comp package like other casino, but it’s only good for free car washes), "What'll it be?"

Mr. Smith: "I'd like to play some Caribbean Stud and that Popeye machine. Let's go $300." Mr. Smith hands over cash, credit card, transferable bonds or any other M3 asset.

HA: "Very good. Let's see? Ouch! Not too lucky at the poker, though you did go up a little on Popeye before giving some of it back. You've got $23 left."

Mr. Smith: "Knew I should have played roulette. Just give me a pint of Wild Turkey, a liter of coke and a cup with ice."

HA: "Surely. And here's your change."

Mr. Smith: "That's for you. Goodnight."

Another happy customer who now has the rest of his evening to watch some movie on TBS he's seen seven times and get tanked. There is a second window at Casino Express before you leave for those who decide to try a little more. It's outfitted with a no fee ATM machine and a home equity officer.

I’m only left to wonder where Blog time fits into this all?