Q: Dear Mr. Allen,
How are you? I hope all is well with you. I was wondering what ever happened in "Nadine's Husband." I read the follow ups in BROWN SUGAR 2,3,and 4, but I was wondering if you were going to write a book because i was hooked.
A: Thanks for this email. It made my day, especially after so many emails about political things.
Well, I'm looking for a publisher. That takes time--but I am working on it hard. I will keep you posted.
Thanks,
Preston
At the Pen Festival 2010
© PEN American Center/Susan Horgan. All rights reserved. Please contact media@pen.org for usage and rights.
October 14, 2008
October 10, 2008
This Is Why I Do Not Get Political With Strangers
I fear the mob mentality.
I fear strongly held but poorly supported beliefs posing as fact.
I fear rumor and hearsay.
I don't like people shouting each other down.
I fear sound bites as a substitute for argument.
I don't like to fight; I like to argue.
The bible says, "He that argues with a fool is a fool himself"; and every member of a mob, who moves with the mob, whether it be for the right or for the wrong, is momentarily a fool, for he has surrendered though momentarily his ability to think for himself.
I don't like mobs, for one cannot argue with a mob; one can only fight a mob, and I do not like to fight. I like to argue. I do not argue with fools. When you argue politics publically, you almost always end up arguing with a fool and as it follows, behaving yourself as a fool.
That's one reason you couldn't pay me to watch the so-called debates, name-calling on national television so as to please your mob is not a debate. We black people have a name for it. It is called "signifying," "doing the dozen," or "ranking." "Yo mama so fat, she got her own zip code." Saying stuff like that to get your mob riled up at the other guy.
When I was a younger man, in grade school, I was chased home by a mob of schoolboys and schoolgirls, threatening to beat me up and yelling racial insults at me--they were black, as am I, so it was not a black/white thing. They thought I was Haitian, though to this day I do not understand what that had to do with it. I was the new kid from Boston, wherever that was, and I spoke English like Bostonians do rather than like Southern African-Americans do, and I was dark skinned (but so were most of the others--but since I was new, my dark skin made me a Haitain--are you following this?).
At any rate, it made me very sad to hear these kids, some of whom I thought I liked or could possibly like, saying these terrible things to me. I was on the verge of crying when I finally made it home.
The next day, and for several days more, I approached individually pretty much everybody who had joined in on the gang-up. And I talked to them, made jokes with them, made friends with them, and it worked with most of them. Things went fine after that. I became a very popular boy in the fourth grade, though new to that school and that city, Miami.
The mob scared me; and it still does. But I am unafraid to discuss ANYthing with ANYbody individually. Members of the mob are less the fool when they stand on their own two feet. There is safety in numbers, as well as insanity.
I am very saddened by the following article I found on AOL. If I could, I would speak to each and everybody who goes to these rallies and behaves in this insane (mobbish) manner.
Let me try to understand this . . . you are angry because a man is running for president whose views are slightly different from your own (In truth, Repubs and Dems are the same face on the same coin as far as I am concerned). If this angers you, then what, in your opinion, is democracy? These charges that you level at him--do you really believe them? Really? Do you know how many "suspected" terrorists are being held captive right now by the US? America takes terrorism seriously. Why is this man not being held? Come on, stop being silly. You're not in 4th grade anymore. Pose your arguments and force him to respond to them--he seems nice enough, and he seems like he knows how to argue. Argue with him. Argue with them. Do not yell and shout like . . . the uncivilized do.
And by the way, if you are certain that the man is a terrorist, then it is your duty as a citizen, or a senator, or a governor, to have him arrested immediately. If you don't do something to get a known terrorist arrested, then you need to be arrested yourself.
And by the way part 2, this is not about Republicans. Democrats do it too.
We are a free society. We have freedom of speech. We also have freedom to listen. These two freedoms combined make us both free and civilized.
But we seem happier to argue from the safety of large numbers. Be warned that there is a danger in practicing such a weak form of argument in a democratic society.
A few years ago I found myself watching an episode of the Jerry Springer Show. The topic that day was Man-Boy Love, and the show featured a panel made up of men from an organization called the North American Man-Boy Love Association, or NAMBLA--these are men who advocate for the right of adult males (over the age of 18) to have consensual sex with non-adult males (under the age of 18) a practice that in most states would be categorized as statutory rape--sex between an adult and a minor.
The men of NAMBLA spoke first--they argued that it is unfair on at least three grounds for them to be forbidden from having sex with males under 18.
First, the law discriminates against them as homosexuals because in every state a parent of a child under the age of 18 (and over the age of 13) can sign for the child to have the right to marry and have legal sex with an adult--no such option is available for a child who wants to have legal sex with an adult of the same sex.
Second, a child who is an out homosexual, they argue, can benefit greatly from the sexual guidance provided by a mature homosexual, but he will fail to get this because of the law, and will procede to make many (and possibly) dangerous mistakes as he is finding his way on his own as a young homosexual.
Finally, they added, the young men (who already know that they are homosexual and are confident in their identity) are wasting many good years of sex because of laws that criminalize behaviours in homosexuals that are dismissed or winked at when they occur with heterosexuals.
Now, whether you agree with these arguments or not, you need to hear how Jerry Springer's studio audience responded to the words of the men from NAMBLA.
People jumped up yelling things like, "I feel like punching you in your mouth."
"If I caught you in my neighborhood, I would string you up by your toes."
"You ought to be shot."
"You are monsters! You need to be killed."
So went the argument of the mod. In fact, it was no argument at all. The mob on the Springer Show, as so often happens, used its large numbers to shout down an argument that it found distasteful.
Very entertaining, but perhaps not.
Shouldn't we, as a civilized people, if we dislike NAMBLA be able to beat its argument with a better argument? In fact, shouldn't it be a no-brainer to counter such a weak argument as theirs, if, in fact, it is so badly flawed? And it is badly flawed, right? That's why we all in this large group disagree with it? But can we articulate intelligently WHY we disagree with it?
More often than not, the answer is no, we cannot. And thus, we can beat their butts, but not their argument.
Perhaps we cannot beat their argument because we have spent too many years arguing from the safety of the mob. We have gotten soft where the ability to argue is concerned. If we outnumber them, we win by shouting them down or beating them up, not by having a better argument. We win because of the strength in our numbers.
It is easy but dangerous to depend on this method to win arguments. First of all, When you argue, you may not always be in a majority (or at a rally preaching to the choir--you might be standing before the Supreme Court in front of an impartial group of jurists).
Second, you never really have any way to be sure that you are right--because you never learned how to argue so as to reach "truth."
And when those impartial jurists come back and grant NAMBLA the right to have sexual relations with boys, you will have to admit that the ony reason they won was because younever learned how to argue, having always depended on the mob to win the day for you.
And there have been many decisions made over the years that members of various angry mobs reciting their group's message to themselves have disagreed with--Roe V Wade, Affirmitive Action, the various repeals of parts of Affirmitive Action nationwide, the War in Iraq, the Civil Rights Bill, the removal of prayer from school, the right to Display the Confederate flag in government buildings in the South, the right for the Confederate Flag to appear in one form or another in the modern flags of various states of the former Confederacy, women's suffrage, taxation without legislation, the Vietnam War, gay marriage, the draft, $700 Billion Dollar bailouts, One Nation Under God.
If the mobs had learned to argue, some of these things would never have been enacted into law. If they had learned to argue, they might have learned to think and would therfore understand why it was just and right that some of these things they initially disagreed with were enacted into law.
But of course, I'm wrong. Arguing is way too hard, even here in civilized, intelligent, democratic America.
It really is a whole lot easier just to call someone a terrorist in front of 10,000 people who already agree with you.
Thanks,
Preston
___________________
Found on Aol
(Oct. 10) - The unmistakable momentum behind Barack Obama's campaign, combined with worry that John McCain is not doing enough to stop it, is ratcheting up fears and frustrations among conservatives.
And nowhere is this emotion on plainer display than at Republican rallies, where voters this week have shouted out insults at the mention of Obama, pleaded with McCain to get more aggressive with the Democrat and generally demonstrated the sort of visceral anger and unease that reflects a party on the precipice of panic.
The calendar is closing and the polls, at least right now, are not.
With McCain passing up the opportunity to level any tough personal shots in his first two debates and the very real prospect of an Obama presidency setting in, the sort of hard-core partisan activists who turn out for campaign events are venting in unusually personal terms.
"Terrorist!” one man screamed Monday at a New Mexico rally after McCain voiced the campaign’s new rhetorical staple aimed at raising doubts about the Illinois senator: “Who is the real Barack Obama?”
"He's a damn liar!” yelled a woman Wednesday in Pennsylvania. "Get him. He's bad for our country."
At both stops, there were cries of, “Nobama,” picking up on a phrase that has appeared on yard signs, t-shirts and bumper stickers.
And Thursday, at a campaign town hall in Wisconsin, one Republican brought the crowd to their feet when he used his turn at the microphone to offer a soliloquy so impassioned it made the network news and earned extended play on Rush Limbaugh’s program.
“I’m mad, I’m really mad!” the voter bellowed. “And what’s going to surprise ya, is it’s not the economy – it’s the socialists taking over our country.”
After the crowd settled down he was back at it. “When you have an Obama, Pelosi and the rest of the hooligans up there gonna run this country, we gotta have our head examined!”
Such contempt for Democrats is, of course, nothing new from conservative activists. But in 2000 and 2004, the Republican rank-and-file was more apt to ridicule Gore as a stiff fabulist or Kerry as an effete weathervane of a politician.
“Flip-flop, flip-flop,” went the cry at Republican rallies four years ago, often with footwear to match the chant.
Now, though, the emotion on display is unadulterated anger rather than mocking.
Activists outside rallies openly talk about Obama as a terrorist, citing his name and purported ties to Islam in the fashion of the viral emails that have rocketed around the Internet for over a year now.
Some of this activity is finding its way into the events, too.
On Thursday, as one man in the audience asked a question about Obama’s associations, the crowd erupted in name-calling.
"Obama Osama!" one woman called out.
And twice this week, local officials have warmed up the crowd by railing against “Barack Hussein Obama.”
Both times, McCain’s campaign has issued statements disavowing the use of the Democrat’s full name.
A McCain aide said they tell individuals speaking before every event not to do so. “Sometimes people just do what they want,” explained the aide.
The raw emotions worry some in the party who believe the broader swath of swing voters are far more focused on their dwindling retirement accounts than on Obama’s background and associations and will be turned off by footage of the McCain events.
John Weaver, McCain’s former top strategist, said top Republicans have a responsibility to temper this behavior.
“People need to understand, for moral reasons and the protection of our civil society, the differences with Senator Obama are ideological, based on clear differences on policy and a lack of experience compared to Senator McCain,” Weaver said. “And from a purely practical political vantage point, please find me a swing voter, an undecided independent, or a torn female voter that finds an angry mob mentality attractive.”
“Senator Obama is a classic liberal with an outdated economic agenda. We should take that agenda on in a robust manner. As a party we should not and must not stand by as the small amount of haters in our society question whether he is as American as the rest of us. Shame on them and shame on us if we allow this to take hold.”
But, if it were up to them, such hard-edged tactics are clearly what many in the party base would like to use against Obama.
That McCain has so far seemed reluctant to do so has frustrated Republicans.
“It's time that you two are representing us, and we are mad,” reiterated the boisterous Republican at McCain’s town hall in Wisconsin Thursday. “So go get 'em!”
"I am begging you, sir, I am begging you -- take it to him," pleaded James T. Harris, a local talk radio host at the same event, earning an extended standing ovation.
“Yosemite Sam is having the law laid down to him today in Waukesha, Wisconsin,” quipped Limbaugh on his show Thursday, referring to the GOP nominee. “This guy, this audience member is exactly right,” the conservative talk show host said of the first individual.
I fear strongly held but poorly supported beliefs posing as fact.
I fear rumor and hearsay.
I don't like people shouting each other down.
I fear sound bites as a substitute for argument.
I don't like to fight; I like to argue.
The bible says, "He that argues with a fool is a fool himself"; and every member of a mob, who moves with the mob, whether it be for the right or for the wrong, is momentarily a fool, for he has surrendered though momentarily his ability to think for himself.
I don't like mobs, for one cannot argue with a mob; one can only fight a mob, and I do not like to fight. I like to argue. I do not argue with fools. When you argue politics publically, you almost always end up arguing with a fool and as it follows, behaving yourself as a fool.
That's one reason you couldn't pay me to watch the so-called debates, name-calling on national television so as to please your mob is not a debate. We black people have a name for it. It is called "signifying," "doing the dozen," or "ranking." "Yo mama so fat, she got her own zip code." Saying stuff like that to get your mob riled up at the other guy.
When I was a younger man, in grade school, I was chased home by a mob of schoolboys and schoolgirls, threatening to beat me up and yelling racial insults at me--they were black, as am I, so it was not a black/white thing. They thought I was Haitian, though to this day I do not understand what that had to do with it. I was the new kid from Boston, wherever that was, and I spoke English like Bostonians do rather than like Southern African-Americans do, and I was dark skinned (but so were most of the others--but since I was new, my dark skin made me a Haitain--are you following this?).
At any rate, it made me very sad to hear these kids, some of whom I thought I liked or could possibly like, saying these terrible things to me. I was on the verge of crying when I finally made it home.
The next day, and for several days more, I approached individually pretty much everybody who had joined in on the gang-up. And I talked to them, made jokes with them, made friends with them, and it worked with most of them. Things went fine after that. I became a very popular boy in the fourth grade, though new to that school and that city, Miami.
The mob scared me; and it still does. But I am unafraid to discuss ANYthing with ANYbody individually. Members of the mob are less the fool when they stand on their own two feet. There is safety in numbers, as well as insanity.
I am very saddened by the following article I found on AOL. If I could, I would speak to each and everybody who goes to these rallies and behaves in this insane (mobbish) manner.
Let me try to understand this . . . you are angry because a man is running for president whose views are slightly different from your own (In truth, Repubs and Dems are the same face on the same coin as far as I am concerned). If this angers you, then what, in your opinion, is democracy? These charges that you level at him--do you really believe them? Really? Do you know how many "suspected" terrorists are being held captive right now by the US? America takes terrorism seriously. Why is this man not being held? Come on, stop being silly. You're not in 4th grade anymore. Pose your arguments and force him to respond to them--he seems nice enough, and he seems like he knows how to argue. Argue with him. Argue with them. Do not yell and shout like . . . the uncivilized do.
And by the way, if you are certain that the man is a terrorist, then it is your duty as a citizen, or a senator, or a governor, to have him arrested immediately. If you don't do something to get a known terrorist arrested, then you need to be arrested yourself.
And by the way part 2, this is not about Republicans. Democrats do it too.
We are a free society. We have freedom of speech. We also have freedom to listen. These two freedoms combined make us both free and civilized.
But we seem happier to argue from the safety of large numbers. Be warned that there is a danger in practicing such a weak form of argument in a democratic society.
A few years ago I found myself watching an episode of the Jerry Springer Show. The topic that day was Man-Boy Love, and the show featured a panel made up of men from an organization called the North American Man-Boy Love Association, or NAMBLA--these are men who advocate for the right of adult males (over the age of 18) to have consensual sex with non-adult males (under the age of 18) a practice that in most states would be categorized as statutory rape--sex between an adult and a minor.
The men of NAMBLA spoke first--they argued that it is unfair on at least three grounds for them to be forbidden from having sex with males under 18.
First, the law discriminates against them as homosexuals because in every state a parent of a child under the age of 18 (and over the age of 13) can sign for the child to have the right to marry and have legal sex with an adult--no such option is available for a child who wants to have legal sex with an adult of the same sex.
Second, a child who is an out homosexual, they argue, can benefit greatly from the sexual guidance provided by a mature homosexual, but he will fail to get this because of the law, and will procede to make many (and possibly) dangerous mistakes as he is finding his way on his own as a young homosexual.
Finally, they added, the young men (who already know that they are homosexual and are confident in their identity) are wasting many good years of sex because of laws that criminalize behaviours in homosexuals that are dismissed or winked at when they occur with heterosexuals.
Now, whether you agree with these arguments or not, you need to hear how Jerry Springer's studio audience responded to the words of the men from NAMBLA.
People jumped up yelling things like, "I feel like punching you in your mouth."
"If I caught you in my neighborhood, I would string you up by your toes."
"You ought to be shot."
"You are monsters! You need to be killed."
So went the argument of the mod. In fact, it was no argument at all. The mob on the Springer Show, as so often happens, used its large numbers to shout down an argument that it found distasteful.
Very entertaining, but perhaps not.
Shouldn't we, as a civilized people, if we dislike NAMBLA be able to beat its argument with a better argument? In fact, shouldn't it be a no-brainer to counter such a weak argument as theirs, if, in fact, it is so badly flawed? And it is badly flawed, right? That's why we all in this large group disagree with it? But can we articulate intelligently WHY we disagree with it?
More often than not, the answer is no, we cannot. And thus, we can beat their butts, but not their argument.
Perhaps we cannot beat their argument because we have spent too many years arguing from the safety of the mob. We have gotten soft where the ability to argue is concerned. If we outnumber them, we win by shouting them down or beating them up, not by having a better argument. We win because of the strength in our numbers.
It is easy but dangerous to depend on this method to win arguments. First of all, When you argue, you may not always be in a majority (or at a rally preaching to the choir--you might be standing before the Supreme Court in front of an impartial group of jurists).
Second, you never really have any way to be sure that you are right--because you never learned how to argue so as to reach "truth."
And when those impartial jurists come back and grant NAMBLA the right to have sexual relations with boys, you will have to admit that the ony reason they won was because younever learned how to argue, having always depended on the mob to win the day for you.
And there have been many decisions made over the years that members of various angry mobs reciting their group's message to themselves have disagreed with--Roe V Wade, Affirmitive Action, the various repeals of parts of Affirmitive Action nationwide, the War in Iraq, the Civil Rights Bill, the removal of prayer from school, the right to Display the Confederate flag in government buildings in the South, the right for the Confederate Flag to appear in one form or another in the modern flags of various states of the former Confederacy, women's suffrage, taxation without legislation, the Vietnam War, gay marriage, the draft, $700 Billion Dollar bailouts, One Nation Under God.
If the mobs had learned to argue, some of these things would never have been enacted into law. If they had learned to argue, they might have learned to think and would therfore understand why it was just and right that some of these things they initially disagreed with were enacted into law.
But of course, I'm wrong. Arguing is way too hard, even here in civilized, intelligent, democratic America.
It really is a whole lot easier just to call someone a terrorist in front of 10,000 people who already agree with you.
Thanks,
Preston
___________________
Found on Aol
(Oct. 10) - The unmistakable momentum behind Barack Obama's campaign, combined with worry that John McCain is not doing enough to stop it, is ratcheting up fears and frustrations among conservatives.
And nowhere is this emotion on plainer display than at Republican rallies, where voters this week have shouted out insults at the mention of Obama, pleaded with McCain to get more aggressive with the Democrat and generally demonstrated the sort of visceral anger and unease that reflects a party on the precipice of panic.
The calendar is closing and the polls, at least right now, are not.
With McCain passing up the opportunity to level any tough personal shots in his first two debates and the very real prospect of an Obama presidency setting in, the sort of hard-core partisan activists who turn out for campaign events are venting in unusually personal terms.
"Terrorist!” one man screamed Monday at a New Mexico rally after McCain voiced the campaign’s new rhetorical staple aimed at raising doubts about the Illinois senator: “Who is the real Barack Obama?”
"He's a damn liar!” yelled a woman Wednesday in Pennsylvania. "Get him. He's bad for our country."
At both stops, there were cries of, “Nobama,” picking up on a phrase that has appeared on yard signs, t-shirts and bumper stickers.
And Thursday, at a campaign town hall in Wisconsin, one Republican brought the crowd to their feet when he used his turn at the microphone to offer a soliloquy so impassioned it made the network news and earned extended play on Rush Limbaugh’s program.
“I’m mad, I’m really mad!” the voter bellowed. “And what’s going to surprise ya, is it’s not the economy – it’s the socialists taking over our country.”
After the crowd settled down he was back at it. “When you have an Obama, Pelosi and the rest of the hooligans up there gonna run this country, we gotta have our head examined!”
Such contempt for Democrats is, of course, nothing new from conservative activists. But in 2000 and 2004, the Republican rank-and-file was more apt to ridicule Gore as a stiff fabulist or Kerry as an effete weathervane of a politician.
“Flip-flop, flip-flop,” went the cry at Republican rallies four years ago, often with footwear to match the chant.
Now, though, the emotion on display is unadulterated anger rather than mocking.
Activists outside rallies openly talk about Obama as a terrorist, citing his name and purported ties to Islam in the fashion of the viral emails that have rocketed around the Internet for over a year now.
Some of this activity is finding its way into the events, too.
On Thursday, as one man in the audience asked a question about Obama’s associations, the crowd erupted in name-calling.
"Obama Osama!" one woman called out.
And twice this week, local officials have warmed up the crowd by railing against “Barack Hussein Obama.”
Both times, McCain’s campaign has issued statements disavowing the use of the Democrat’s full name.
A McCain aide said they tell individuals speaking before every event not to do so. “Sometimes people just do what they want,” explained the aide.
The raw emotions worry some in the party who believe the broader swath of swing voters are far more focused on their dwindling retirement accounts than on Obama’s background and associations and will be turned off by footage of the McCain events.
John Weaver, McCain’s former top strategist, said top Republicans have a responsibility to temper this behavior.
“People need to understand, for moral reasons and the protection of our civil society, the differences with Senator Obama are ideological, based on clear differences on policy and a lack of experience compared to Senator McCain,” Weaver said. “And from a purely practical political vantage point, please find me a swing voter, an undecided independent, or a torn female voter that finds an angry mob mentality attractive.”
“Senator Obama is a classic liberal with an outdated economic agenda. We should take that agenda on in a robust manner. As a party we should not and must not stand by as the small amount of haters in our society question whether he is as American as the rest of us. Shame on them and shame on us if we allow this to take hold.”
But, if it were up to them, such hard-edged tactics are clearly what many in the party base would like to use against Obama.
That McCain has so far seemed reluctant to do so has frustrated Republicans.
“It's time that you two are representing us, and we are mad,” reiterated the boisterous Republican at McCain’s town hall in Wisconsin Thursday. “So go get 'em!”
"I am begging you, sir, I am begging you -- take it to him," pleaded James T. Harris, a local talk radio host at the same event, earning an extended standing ovation.
“Yosemite Sam is having the law laid down to him today in Waukesha, Wisconsin,” quipped Limbaugh on his show Thursday, referring to the GOP nominee. “This guy, this audience member is exactly right,” the conservative talk show host said of the first individual.
October 3, 2008
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
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
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
October 2, 2008
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
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
October 1, 2008
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
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
September 25, 2008
Now the Fun Begins
Here's a shout out to my old Professor John Dufresne for his great new book REQUIEM MASS.: A NOVEL, and for getting me started on a routine that is crucial to my career as a novelist. I get up every morning at 4 or 5 a.m. and write for one hour almost every day of the year.
Last week, I finished my prison novella FAMILY BLOOD--I'm still not comfortable with it, so I'm going to work on it a bit more before I shop it.
This morning I put the finishing touches on my collection, FACES IN THE WALL. I'm done with it. Finished. At last! Romance, philosophy, and serial killers. Yum!
In 4 (or 5) more days my novel FACE OF EVIL will be completed--so those of you who have been waiting almost ten years for the sequel to HOOCHIE MAMA, get ready to line up at your local bookstore. M Gantry is back and she is one baaaaaad muthaf--shut yo mouth--I'm talkin' bout M. Her crew is with her too, Sosa and Lambert (yes, I brought Michael Lambert back from the grave--he was too good to give up; actually this story takes place before the adventure in HOOCHIE MAMA, so it's actually a prequel).
One hour a day--it works, people. I highly recommend it.
Of course I don't always "write" every morning that I get up--sometimes I spend my hour proofreading, sometimes re-reading stuff I've written, sometimes reading someone else's work--the point is to spend at least one hour a day devoted to the craft.
For me, one hour a day produces about 3 pages a day; about 90 pages a month; about 1000 pages a year; about three book length works a year. As you can see, this year has been a good year. Two Face Books and a Blood.
Now the fun begins.
Thanks,
Preston
Last week, I finished my prison novella FAMILY BLOOD--I'm still not comfortable with it, so I'm going to work on it a bit more before I shop it.
This morning I put the finishing touches on my collection, FACES IN THE WALL. I'm done with it. Finished. At last! Romance, philosophy, and serial killers. Yum!
In 4 (or 5) more days my novel FACE OF EVIL will be completed--so those of you who have been waiting almost ten years for the sequel to HOOCHIE MAMA, get ready to line up at your local bookstore. M Gantry is back and she is one baaaaaad muthaf--shut yo mouth--I'm talkin' bout M. Her crew is with her too, Sosa and Lambert (yes, I brought Michael Lambert back from the grave--he was too good to give up; actually this story takes place before the adventure in HOOCHIE MAMA, so it's actually a prequel).
One hour a day--it works, people. I highly recommend it.
Of course I don't always "write" every morning that I get up--sometimes I spend my hour proofreading, sometimes re-reading stuff I've written, sometimes reading someone else's work--the point is to spend at least one hour a day devoted to the craft.
For me, one hour a day produces about 3 pages a day; about 90 pages a month; about 1000 pages a year; about three book length works a year. As you can see, this year has been a good year. Two Face Books and a Blood.
Now the fun begins.
Thanks,
Preston
September 20, 2008
Can Someone Who Does Not Like to Read Become a Great Writer?
Q: I saw your performance today at MDC. I think I have a book in me, I would like to write a novel, but I have to admit that I do not read books except those I must read for school. Can someone like myself who does not like to read become a great writer, or should I just give up and do something else?
A: I think I have answered this question before, or something pretty close to it. I find it to be a very annoying question and find that it shows up all too frequently.
My simple answer is this: give up and do something else.
People learn to speak, by listening to others (their mothers and fathers, their close household kin).
If no one speaks to you, then you will not learn to speak. It is as simple as that. And if you do speak, you will have no sense of how horrible you sound to other people.
So it is with writing. Writers learn to writer by reading.
Before we write, we must first read.
And if we write, without first having read, we will have no idea how horribly our books read to other people.
"But I don't like to read," you argue, "and I don't want my style to be influenced by anyone else's. I want to be original in my poetry and fiction."
Sigh. You're so young.
But, dear emailer, believe it or not, you have already been exposed to reading if you grew up in this country. You read nursery rhymes and Dr. Seuss, right? You read birthday cards, right? And that is exactly what your so-called original poetry is going to sound like--if you don't start reading lots of good poetry.
And whether you like reading novels or not, you have already been exposed to a very powerful storytelling influence: film and TV. And that is exactly what your so-called original fiction is going to sound like--if you don't start reading lots of good books.
In the beginning, your work may be (and sound) a bit derivitive of the good poets and writers that you are reading. That is to be expected as you are evolving into a creature with its own original voice. Think about the child who repeats the words and expressions of his/her parents and older siblings; ah, but in a few short years, the child is speaking his/her own original thoughts with his/her own original voice.
Writing is like that.
You can't help but to be original because you are you, and you are the only you there is.
But neither can you learn to talk, or to write, unless you begin by mimicking someone else's words.
This is as gentle as I can be in responding to this annoying question, but I sense that you are genuine in your search for an answer. If you ask me again, I promise not to be so nice.
People who do not read . . . groan . . . suffice it to say that writers are not fond of people who do not read.
Why in the heck would you want to write if you yourself do not like to read?
Why paint a picture if you do not like to look?
Why sing songs if you do not like to listen?
I am baffled by emails such as this.
Thanks,
Preston
A: I think I have answered this question before, or something pretty close to it. I find it to be a very annoying question and find that it shows up all too frequently.
My simple answer is this: give up and do something else.
People learn to speak, by listening to others (their mothers and fathers, their close household kin).
If no one speaks to you, then you will not learn to speak. It is as simple as that. And if you do speak, you will have no sense of how horrible you sound to other people.
So it is with writing. Writers learn to writer by reading.
Before we write, we must first read.
And if we write, without first having read, we will have no idea how horribly our books read to other people.
"But I don't like to read," you argue, "and I don't want my style to be influenced by anyone else's. I want to be original in my poetry and fiction."
Sigh. You're so young.
But, dear emailer, believe it or not, you have already been exposed to reading if you grew up in this country. You read nursery rhymes and Dr. Seuss, right? You read birthday cards, right? And that is exactly what your so-called original poetry is going to sound like--if you don't start reading lots of good poetry.
And whether you like reading novels or not, you have already been exposed to a very powerful storytelling influence: film and TV. And that is exactly what your so-called original fiction is going to sound like--if you don't start reading lots of good books.
In the beginning, your work may be (and sound) a bit derivitive of the good poets and writers that you are reading. That is to be expected as you are evolving into a creature with its own original voice. Think about the child who repeats the words and expressions of his/her parents and older siblings; ah, but in a few short years, the child is speaking his/her own original thoughts with his/her own original voice.
Writing is like that.
You can't help but to be original because you are you, and you are the only you there is.
But neither can you learn to talk, or to write, unless you begin by mimicking someone else's words.
This is as gentle as I can be in responding to this annoying question, but I sense that you are genuine in your search for an answer. If you ask me again, I promise not to be so nice.
People who do not read . . . groan . . . suffice it to say that writers are not fond of people who do not read.
Why in the heck would you want to write if you yourself do not like to read?
Why paint a picture if you do not like to look?
Why sing songs if you do not like to listen?
I am baffled by emails such as this.
Thanks,
Preston
September 13, 2008
Politics and Religion
A typical question that I usually do not answer, but this time I will . . .
Sort of . . .
In fact, I'm not even going to say whether the question was about politics or religion . . .
It's getting annoying, people . . .
This, I hope, shall put it to rest . . .
________________________
Q: Far be it from me, Mr. Allen, to ask what side of the debate you are on, but do you not feel a need to guide those who are on the wrong path, especially the younger ones?
A: If a young (or old) person is on the "wrong" path and he/she encounters me and I perceive that he/she is not someone's blind, mindless follower out to convert me or to argue pointlessly with me so as to grandstand in the name of his/her religion/political party, then I shall be more than happy to offer my guidance on any matter, even religion and politics.
"When they differ on the issue, they cannot both be right. But they can both be wrong."
--Preston L. Allen, Sunday School 1976
"The first lie is that there are two sides to the argument. Age has taught me that where politics is concerned, there are seldom two sides to the argument. Usually what we have is a debate between reason and someone else's self-interest, and self-interest, because it is unafraid to continue to deceive its base, usually wins. Thus, in politics, the odds are roughly equal in a debate between the mental giant and the mental idiot."
--Preston L. Allen, Miramar barber shop 2005
"I am bothered as much by the atheist as by the true-believer. If the true-believer is wrong, then he/she is a child still believing in Santa Claus, but why write entire books, script entire speeches, and build entire arguments to prove that Santa does not exist? When I meet children who still believe in Santa, I smile at them and say, 'Merry Christmas!' Remember, Christmas is a useful holiday whether Santa is real or not."
--Preston L. Allen, Christmas shopping 2001
"So you want to be a witch? You are now into Wicca? Good luck, young man, and enjoy the miseries that will ensue. I hold nothing against Wicca, as I hold nothing against Christianity or any other religion. However, you are in college and one day you will hold a degree and be a job seeker in a largely Christian, Jewish, and Muslim world--these religions all perceive themselves to be on the light side and perceive Wicca to be on the dark. I think you are deliberately giving yourself a disadvantage, perhaps to prove a point--young people are always out to prove points, and that in and of itself is not a bad thing, the real problem being that the young have a great deal of passion and very little discretion, and therefore they often rebel, so to speak, 'without a cause.' If you are genuine and passionate in your unusual belief, why wear it on your sleeve? I have my doubts about you, young man. Now, we both know that no Christian, Jewish, or Muslim god is going to come down and strike you if you make this decision; but no Wiccan god is going to protect you either. All of the gods, both light and dark, are too busy for that--at least the gods have been too busy for that for the last 10,000 years. Perhaps they have been sleeping. But man is neither too busy, nor sleeping. Man is wide awake. Man has idle time. Man has idle hands. Man will strike you down in the name of his god of light. If you're looking for a fight, then join the dark side. If you're truly looking for spiritual enlightenment--it's not on the outside, it's within. It's not in a religion or an anti-religion--it's in the heart and the mind. Be a good person. Be good to people, please. Don't let a god or a devil or a witch or a warlock tell you how to be good. Goodness is already in your heart. Just be good, cuz. And when you find a real cause to fight for, you know that you can count on me."
--Preston L. Allen, to a young cousin 1992
________________________
Now please, no more religious and political questions.
Thanks,
Preston
Sort of . . .
In fact, I'm not even going to say whether the question was about politics or religion . . .
It's getting annoying, people . . .
This, I hope, shall put it to rest . . .
________________________
Q: Far be it from me, Mr. Allen, to ask what side of the debate you are on, but do you not feel a need to guide those who are on the wrong path, especially the younger ones?
A: If a young (or old) person is on the "wrong" path and he/she encounters me and I perceive that he/she is not someone's blind, mindless follower out to convert me or to argue pointlessly with me so as to grandstand in the name of his/her religion/political party, then I shall be more than happy to offer my guidance on any matter, even religion and politics.
"When they differ on the issue, they cannot both be right. But they can both be wrong."
--Preston L. Allen, Sunday School 1976
"The first lie is that there are two sides to the argument. Age has taught me that where politics is concerned, there are seldom two sides to the argument. Usually what we have is a debate between reason and someone else's self-interest, and self-interest, because it is unafraid to continue to deceive its base, usually wins. Thus, in politics, the odds are roughly equal in a debate between the mental giant and the mental idiot."
--Preston L. Allen, Miramar barber shop 2005
"I am bothered as much by the atheist as by the true-believer. If the true-believer is wrong, then he/she is a child still believing in Santa Claus, but why write entire books, script entire speeches, and build entire arguments to prove that Santa does not exist? When I meet children who still believe in Santa, I smile at them and say, 'Merry Christmas!' Remember, Christmas is a useful holiday whether Santa is real or not."
--Preston L. Allen, Christmas shopping 2001
"So you want to be a witch? You are now into Wicca? Good luck, young man, and enjoy the miseries that will ensue. I hold nothing against Wicca, as I hold nothing against Christianity or any other religion. However, you are in college and one day you will hold a degree and be a job seeker in a largely Christian, Jewish, and Muslim world--these religions all perceive themselves to be on the light side and perceive Wicca to be on the dark. I think you are deliberately giving yourself a disadvantage, perhaps to prove a point--young people are always out to prove points, and that in and of itself is not a bad thing, the real problem being that the young have a great deal of passion and very little discretion, and therefore they often rebel, so to speak, 'without a cause.' If you are genuine and passionate in your unusual belief, why wear it on your sleeve? I have my doubts about you, young man. Now, we both know that no Christian, Jewish, or Muslim god is going to come down and strike you if you make this decision; but no Wiccan god is going to protect you either. All of the gods, both light and dark, are too busy for that--at least the gods have been too busy for that for the last 10,000 years. Perhaps they have been sleeping. But man is neither too busy, nor sleeping. Man is wide awake. Man has idle time. Man has idle hands. Man will strike you down in the name of his god of light. If you're looking for a fight, then join the dark side. If you're truly looking for spiritual enlightenment--it's not on the outside, it's within. It's not in a religion or an anti-religion--it's in the heart and the mind. Be a good person. Be good to people, please. Don't let a god or a devil or a witch or a warlock tell you how to be good. Goodness is already in your heart. Just be good, cuz. And when you find a real cause to fight for, you know that you can count on me."
--Preston L. Allen, to a young cousin 1992
________________________
Now please, no more religious and political questions.
Thanks,
Preston
September 12, 2008
A Gambler Dreams
Wow, this new semester is taxing me mightily with work.
I've got tons of papers to grade and I am almost finished with my latest novel, so instead of writing for my usual one hour a day, I have been writing 3 or 4, which leaves me little or no time to blog.
Sorry about that, guys.
Instead of answering emails this time, I am going to post a few weird dreams I have had and maybe you can tell me what they mean . . . maybe they represent winning lotto numbers or something.
When I finish the new book (in the next few days), I will be able to start blogging again with regularity.
____________________________
Dreams
1. I needed money to gamble and my account only had $200 in it, so I went to my youngest son, age 5 or 6 it looked like, and asked him for $400.
He said, "Okay, papa," and hopped on his bike and came back with $400.
When I saw the money, I decided to press my luck and said, "Really, son, I need another $1000."
He said, "Okay, papa," and hopped on his bike and came back with $1000.
When I saw this, I said, "Son, I really need $10,000 . . . is that okay?"
The 5-year old (who in real life is 14) said, "Okay, papa," and hopped on his bike and came back with a bag full of money. $10,000!
So I put the money in my wallet and noticing that he disapeared to use the bathroom, I snuck into his bedroom and took out his bank pass book (which no one uses these days). To my astonishment, his balance read, $300,000,000! My 5-year old was a millionaire.
Now I became very exited.
When he came out of the bathroom, I said to him, "Really, son, I need $100,000."
He said, "Okay, papa," and when he came back from the bank this time, I put the hundred grand in my wallet and headed for my car to go to the casino and gamble.
My wife stopped me at the door.
She said, "Do you not even want to know where he got the money from?"
I hadn't thought about that. "Where?" I said.
She said, "From his father."
"But I am his father."
She said, "No! Tommy is his father, and you don't even care!"
She stormed off loudly weeping and shedding big tears, and I shrugged and headed for my car. Whoever Tommy was, I would deal with that when I came back from the casino. For now it was time to gamble.
2. My father and I were on an island. I think we were stranded there. I was sooooo hungry. Somehow it came to my attention that my father was not as hungry as I was. Somehow I noticed that he was gaining weight despite being stranded on the island along with me. I begged him to tell me his secret.
He refused at first, but finally broke down and told me.
He said, "I learned this trick from years of sailing on the high seas as a merchant marine. Sometimes on the ship, we run out of food for weeks. When there is no other food, we prepare and eat our feces. But you have to do it the right way. Here, let me show you."
He took me to a tree, reached up into its leafy branches, and pulled down a square, brown cake of his feces that had been hidden up there. He handed it to me. It didn't smell so bad, but it felt heavy and solid like a rock in my hands.
"Eat up," he said. "It's not as bad as it looks."
I took a bite. It was nasty. Now inside my mouth felt like it was full of spiderwebs. And there was something crunchy in my mouth, too.
When I looked down at the cake of my father's feces, it was oozing bloody human fingers. I tried to spit it out, but the stuff was sticking to the inside of my mouth. My mouth was oozing blood.
3. I had a dream about my mother, who passed recently, and I don't remember whether she was actually in the dream or whether she was just a ghostlike voice, but she ordered me to read her journal out loud. So I read it out loud. I don't remember what I read, but she shouted very angrily, "No, don't read it in order. Read it backwards in the mirror."
I took it to the mirror and read it out loud backwards.
It read, "Hop home on your one foot, demon day. Hop home on your one foot, demon day."
I said, "Mommy, what does it mean?"
These were the words to a silly tune she used to sing to us, playfully teasing us (her sons), whenever we lost to her at checkers or some other game. I never understood these words, though as a child I used to squeal with delight when she sang them.
"What does it mean?" I pleaded.
She said, "Look in the mirror again."
I looked in the mirror again.
The mirror was cracked.
4. My daughter was in the backyard with my mother-in-law. My daughter, who is now 18, was a toddler of maybe 2 or 3 in the dream. She was wearing a little blue jeans overall dress set and a deep red shirt underneath. My daughter was lying on her back, and my mother-in-law Was trying to teach her how to pee on the grass. I heard my daughter crying pitifully and my mother-in-law shouting commands like "Shame on you," "Do it right now," "You're a big girl now, you should be able to do this."
When I looked between my daughter's legs, she had a big, black, bushy vagina, like an adult woman's vagina, and instead of urine coming out of her, she was dripping white semen.
My first impulse was to run and help her, but I slunk away in shame, hiding my eyes from her nakedness.
When I was safely inside the house, I screamed, "Leave her alone! Leave her alone!"
I listened with all my might, but I didn't hear any sounds coming from outside.
I woke up sobbing and shivering.
5. This one is the most recent. Last night I dreamt I was walking across a mattress upon which slept a large black jungle cat--a panther or something. A voice told me, "Be careful," but too late--I shook the mattress and the large predator awoke and pounced on me. He bit me hard on the hand, and having no other way to fight him, I bit him hard on the head. I don't know how I did it, but I put his entire head into my mouth and bit it, as though he were no bigger than a house cat.
Then I awoke.
___________________
Thanks,
Preston
I've got tons of papers to grade and I am almost finished with my latest novel, so instead of writing for my usual one hour a day, I have been writing 3 or 4, which leaves me little or no time to blog.
Sorry about that, guys.
Instead of answering emails this time, I am going to post a few weird dreams I have had and maybe you can tell me what they mean . . . maybe they represent winning lotto numbers or something.
When I finish the new book (in the next few days), I will be able to start blogging again with regularity.
____________________________
Dreams
1. I needed money to gamble and my account only had $200 in it, so I went to my youngest son, age 5 or 6 it looked like, and asked him for $400.
He said, "Okay, papa," and hopped on his bike and came back with $400.
When I saw the money, I decided to press my luck and said, "Really, son, I need another $1000."
He said, "Okay, papa," and hopped on his bike and came back with $1000.
When I saw this, I said, "Son, I really need $10,000 . . . is that okay?"
The 5-year old (who in real life is 14) said, "Okay, papa," and hopped on his bike and came back with a bag full of money. $10,000!
So I put the money in my wallet and noticing that he disapeared to use the bathroom, I snuck into his bedroom and took out his bank pass book (which no one uses these days). To my astonishment, his balance read, $300,000,000! My 5-year old was a millionaire.
Now I became very exited.
When he came out of the bathroom, I said to him, "Really, son, I need $100,000."
He said, "Okay, papa," and when he came back from the bank this time, I put the hundred grand in my wallet and headed for my car to go to the casino and gamble.
My wife stopped me at the door.
She said, "Do you not even want to know where he got the money from?"
I hadn't thought about that. "Where?" I said.
She said, "From his father."
"But I am his father."
She said, "No! Tommy is his father, and you don't even care!"
She stormed off loudly weeping and shedding big tears, and I shrugged and headed for my car. Whoever Tommy was, I would deal with that when I came back from the casino. For now it was time to gamble.
2. My father and I were on an island. I think we were stranded there. I was sooooo hungry. Somehow it came to my attention that my father was not as hungry as I was. Somehow I noticed that he was gaining weight despite being stranded on the island along with me. I begged him to tell me his secret.
He refused at first, but finally broke down and told me.
He said, "I learned this trick from years of sailing on the high seas as a merchant marine. Sometimes on the ship, we run out of food for weeks. When there is no other food, we prepare and eat our feces. But you have to do it the right way. Here, let me show you."
He took me to a tree, reached up into its leafy branches, and pulled down a square, brown cake of his feces that had been hidden up there. He handed it to me. It didn't smell so bad, but it felt heavy and solid like a rock in my hands.
"Eat up," he said. "It's not as bad as it looks."
I took a bite. It was nasty. Now inside my mouth felt like it was full of spiderwebs. And there was something crunchy in my mouth, too.
When I looked down at the cake of my father's feces, it was oozing bloody human fingers. I tried to spit it out, but the stuff was sticking to the inside of my mouth. My mouth was oozing blood.
3. I had a dream about my mother, who passed recently, and I don't remember whether she was actually in the dream or whether she was just a ghostlike voice, but she ordered me to read her journal out loud. So I read it out loud. I don't remember what I read, but she shouted very angrily, "No, don't read it in order. Read it backwards in the mirror."
I took it to the mirror and read it out loud backwards.
It read, "Hop home on your one foot, demon day. Hop home on your one foot, demon day."
I said, "Mommy, what does it mean?"
These were the words to a silly tune she used to sing to us, playfully teasing us (her sons), whenever we lost to her at checkers or some other game. I never understood these words, though as a child I used to squeal with delight when she sang them.
"What does it mean?" I pleaded.
She said, "Look in the mirror again."
I looked in the mirror again.
The mirror was cracked.
4. My daughter was in the backyard with my mother-in-law. My daughter, who is now 18, was a toddler of maybe 2 or 3 in the dream. She was wearing a little blue jeans overall dress set and a deep red shirt underneath. My daughter was lying on her back, and my mother-in-law Was trying to teach her how to pee on the grass. I heard my daughter crying pitifully and my mother-in-law shouting commands like "Shame on you," "Do it right now," "You're a big girl now, you should be able to do this."
When I looked between my daughter's legs, she had a big, black, bushy vagina, like an adult woman's vagina, and instead of urine coming out of her, she was dripping white semen.
My first impulse was to run and help her, but I slunk away in shame, hiding my eyes from her nakedness.
When I was safely inside the house, I screamed, "Leave her alone! Leave her alone!"
I listened with all my might, but I didn't hear any sounds coming from outside.
I woke up sobbing and shivering.
5. This one is the most recent. Last night I dreamt I was walking across a mattress upon which slept a large black jungle cat--a panther or something. A voice told me, "Be careful," but too late--I shook the mattress and the large predator awoke and pounced on me. He bit me hard on the hand, and having no other way to fight him, I bit him hard on the head. I don't know how I did it, but I put his entire head into my mouth and bit it, as though he were no bigger than a house cat.
Then I awoke.
___________________
Thanks,
Preston
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