Updated: Mar 24
Guest writer for mynzdreamblog
My brother was a professional gambler all of his life. One year, for his twelfth or thirteenth birthday, he got a box with the words "Lucky Seven" written across the top. Inside was a full roulette wheel and table, dice for craps, a set of bicycle poker cards, and stacks of blue, white, red, and black chips. It was a great gift for someone locked up in prison, but probably not ideal for an adolescent boy. It might have been my father's idea. He was a bit of a gambler, himself. It didn't take long for my brother to figure out the games and the magic of being "the house." I suppose this determined his future "lifestyle." He soon figured out how to mark the poker cards as well. It is a simple matter, really. There are birds on the back of each card for each of the numbers up and through the Ace. You can use a pin to scratch a third wing on the bird that corresponds to the number on the card. They are actually set up in a pattern that makes it quite easy to read them. If you don't know the scratch is there, it will not be noticed. My brother was always looking for and finding the angle. That is what smart gamblers do. They do things to make the odds more in their favor. He once walked out onto a racetrack in the middle of the day, dressed in overalls and with a bucket of paint. He stepped off the distance he wanted and painted a vertical line on the fence along the back of the track so he would be the only person to know how fast the horses covered that distance that he had measured off. That line remained on the fence for years and no one gave it a second thought. When he was in the military, he told his fellows that he had friends working in the orders office. For a fee, he could keep them from being sent to Vietnam. Many jumped at the chance. If they got sent over, he gave them their money back. But before that happened, he received the interest in the money in the bank and those that paid had a sense of safety and security. No victims here that I can see.