Who IS Going to Be the Next President

Q: Who is going to be the next president, Obama or McCain?

A: Your mama.

Stop asking me political questions! I will not post them. Call me, if you want to discuss politics. I do not discuss sex, politics, or religion in public.

Thanks,

Preston

Black Jack

Q: Do you know anything about Black Jack? I noticed that there wasn't much about Black Jack in your novel ALL OR NOTHING. I have recently started playing and I was wondering if there is a reason the dealer wins so much. Have you noticed that she hits the great numbers 19, 20, 21 and beats you with them so often that it looks like she is cheating? Do you think they are cheating? I have lost about $2000 so far and I am thinking about giving up the game. I can't seem to win a hand, even the goood hands.

A: Yes, Texas Hold'em is very dear to the protagonist's heart in my novel, but Black Jack, if you recall, is the downfall of his girlfriend C.L. That is the game she cheats at to get thrown out of Las Vegas.

I am no expert on Black Jack, but I have played it enough to know what you are talking about--the dealer's uncanny ability to draw 19, 20, and 21--just when you get a really good hand like a 19 or 20 or 21, creating an unsatisfying "push" or worse yet, a loss, or your part.

But actually, there is a mathematical reason for this tendency to hit great hands on the dealer's part.

What a lot of newcomers to the Black Jack game do not immediately realize is that the Black Jack deck is over-stacked with 10s. Ten is the most commmon card in the deck. In the deck there are more 10s than any other card. What am I talking about?

Take 6, for example. There are 4 sixes per deck: six of diamonds, six of clubs, six of hearts, six of spades. Therefore if the dealer needs a six to beat you, she is unlikely to get it because sixes are rare; or, looked at this way, she only has a one in 52 chance, roughly, of getting it because there are only four of them in the deck.

How many 10s are there in the deck? Answer: 16!

Yes, 16.

See, there are four 10s, four Jacks (counted as 10 points), four queens (counted as 10 points), and four kings counted as 10 points).

So there are 16 chances out of 52 for the dealer who needs a ten to get it.

This also means that when the dealer is showing an ACE, that there is about a little over 30% chance (one in three) that her other card is a ten, a black jack, perfect 21, and that she will beat you.

It follows then, that the dealer showing a 10, likely has another 10 hidden and she may beat you with 20.

And the dealer showing a 9, likely has a hidden 10, which will be a great hand with 19.

And the dealer showing an 8, likely has a hidden 10, which will be an 18.

And so on.

Black Jack is a great game, the only game in the casino that gives the player a slight edge over the house. But if you play it, expect your GOOD hand to be beaten time and again (at least 1 out of 3 times) by the dealer's GREAT hand.

Getting beat like that is just part of the game.

Thanks,

Preston

I May Have to Return to the Casinos

Okay, this precognition thing is getting worse. Or better. I am now beginning to see a way that I can control it. Maybe. I still have no way to figure out what my dreams mean, but the other powers are becoming more manageable.

This morning I went to court--but first I went to the school to drop off materials for the person who would be subbing my class. My court appointment was at a courthouse downtown, so I thought it might be wise to stop off at an ATM and get some cash for parking. Across from the school there was a Walgreens--with an ATM!--but something told me, a voice in my head, don't worry about taking out money--leave it in the bank.

In fact, traffic would not let me get into the lane to get to the Walgreen's. I was forced by the traffic to go through the light and then make a U-turn to get to Walgreen's. Then when I got there, the ATM machine was broken. Okay, so I would buy a pack of gum and ask for $20 back in cash. This plan had problems, too. The woman working the register was new and inexperienced and kept voiding out the transaction. Finally, she got it right and I had my $20 in cash.

I got into my car, running late now because of the delays at the Walgreen's, and realized that the address of the courthouse (though I did not know exactly where it was) was near the downtown campus of my college; in other words, parking for me was free--all I had to do was park in a faculty slot at the college and ride the free people mover over to the courthouse. Duh.

So I parked in a faculty slot and got out of my car--forgetting my cell phone in the car. I was running late, but I never go anywhere without my cellphone. As I ran back to get it, a voice popped into my head again--it said, "Just leave your cellphone in the car. It's not like they're going to let you use it in court. You're going to have to turn it off anyway."

I said to myself, "Yeah, that's true, but I might need it afterwards."

So I got on the elevator to take me back upstairs to the faculty parking, but the elevator went down instead of up. So I had to wait for it to go all the way to the bottom floor before going back up to where my car was parked. More delays. Running late. It was close to 10:00. My court time was 10:00.

Finally, phone in hand, I ran to the people mover, got off at Government Center, entered the courthouse and dropped my keys, belt, and cellphone into the metal detector, picked them up on the other side, got on the elevator, rode it up to the 14th floor, got to another metal detector outside the courtroom and was told by the marshall guarding the door: "No, you can't bring that cellphone in here. No--abosultely, no--electronic devices are allowed in the courtroom."

Crap! I should have listened to that voice in my head. So now what was I going to do? I had 5 minutes before my court appointment. Crap!

I got on the elevator and rode it back to the first floor. I was frantic. I pleaded with the guards down there: "What am I going to do? I need to go to court, but I can't enter the courtroom with a cellphone. Do you guys have lockers or something where I can stash my phone for an hour or two?"

They shook their heads no, some of them cracking smiles. They had seen it all before.

There were two other guards there who were guarding the door to the outside: one was a friendly black man who had welcomed me in upon my arrival; the other was an elderly hispanic man, who spoke very little English--I had overheard him "trying" to direct an English-speaking woman to the restroom in broken English. His English was very poor.

But something told me to talk to him.

So I went to him instead of the friendly black man.

When I got up real close to him, I noticed he had a Honduran flag tattoed on his wrist. Interesting. I was born in Honduras, though I speak absolutely no Spanish. I come from the English-speaking side of the country--I'll explain more in a later blog.

So I went up to this guy and told him my problem.

He nodded his head and told me in broken English: "Go e-next door. Photo e-shop. A girl, a nice girl. Virginia. She will e-hold e-phone for you. Maybe give her some money."

Bingo!

I ran next door to the photo shop beside the courthouse, and the nice girl Virginia was not only nice enough to hold the phone for me, but she refused to take any money.

I ran back inside the courthouse and made it to my appointment, at most, 30 seconds late.

Afterwards, I got my phone from nice girl Virginia. Again I offered money, and again she refused.

I was going to get on the people mover to go retrieve my car, but a voice in my head said: "It is not too far. Walk."

So I walked back to the parking garage.

When I got there, there was a crowd waiting to get on at that end of the people mover. They were not happy. I over head them saying:

"It broke down again."

"This damn thing. I wish they would fix it."

"I need to get to court."

"Maybe we should walk to court. It's not too far."

"This damn machine. They should fix it."

Again, I had listened to the voice in my head and come out AHEAD.

Now if I can only figure out how to do that in the casino.



Thanks,

Preston

Don't Make It Political, Please

Q: I'm not asking you whether you support Obama or McCain, I'm just asking why you think that Clinton supporters, for a while there, were splitting off and going to McCain. Is it racially motivated?

A: I don't know. I cannot and will not speak for the motivations of other people, except for the characters in my novel, which is what you should be asking me questions about. I do, however, have my opinions and feelings on the subject. Meet me in private and we'll talk.

Or maybe, I'll just pose without answering it this question that has been running through my brain.

If I am a Democrat and a Clinton supporter, but Clinton loses to Obama, do I cease to support the ideals of the Democratic party and suddenly become a Republican? How do I all of a sudden become a Republican? Was I ever really a Democrat or was I just supporting a particular candidate?

Well, that's my question, and I do not need an answer to it. Just asking. That's all.

Like Leonard Cohen says, "I'm neither left nor right/ I'm just staying home tonight/ getting lost in this hopeless little screen."

No more politics. Time to pay your 700 billion dollar bar tab and head on home.

Thanks,

Preston