I just figured out that you can subscribe to this series by viewing my profile and clicking on "Follow". The next new chapters will now show up in your feed as soon as they are posted.
If you'd like to see this story get produced, please consider pledging to my Patreon. More details there.
The link is
https://www.patreon.com/undergroundpoker Thank you for all of your support.
Previous:
Inside Underground NY Poker #8 Spades — 1.8 Walking into a casino, for the first time, can be quite an overwhelming experience. There’s so much going on — all of the flashing lights, various sounds, the diverse amount of people flowing throughout, the list goes on. No matter where you look, there’s always something going on that can potentially pique your curiosity. Of course, at this time in the midsummer of 2007, I hadn’t a clue of what to expect. I had yet to step foot inside a real casino.
When Chris called and invited me to go with him on a road trip up to Turning Stone, my mood was not only of excitement, it was also flowing with curiosity. I figured that making the drive up to Turning Stone would not only be a great deal of fun, but would also be an excellent opportunity to learn more about professional casino poker.
During my phone conversation with Chris, we agreed that we would make the road trip up there after we finished our Sunday shifts at Spades. This gave us about 24 hours to gather up our buddies and put together a crew. Our main goal was to crush some live action cash games there, but we also wanted to let loose and party. I didn’t yet know it, but my version of partying was vastly different from Chris’ version.
I made some calls and sent some texts, and not too long after, had a few of my closest friends confirm that they were going to come on the trip. I was the youngest of my social circle in high school, still being only 17 at the time. All of the other guys were already 18, so legally, they wouldn’t have a problem at Turning Stone.
If you don’t know, Turning Stone Resort & Casino is located on an Indian Reservation, and as such, the gambling laws of New York state do not apply there — the legal gambling age there is 18, as set by the law of the land.
Now, since I was still only 17, this presented a potential problem. However, I looked a bit older than I actually was, and I also had a fake ID that I had been using for a while. Chris was also incredibly confident that it wouldn’t be a problem whatsoever — he even offered to lay me a bet with 3 to 1 odds for $100, that at no point would I be unable play because of my age. I declined the bet of course, not wanting to jinx myself.
In 2007, Turning Stone was a “dry” casino, which meant that they didn’t serve any alcohol. However, you were allowed to bring your own, and could indulge yourself to your own desire. As of today, this is no longer the case, but that’s the way it was back then.
We calculated that the drive would take us about 4.5 hours, not entirely too long by road trip standards, but could be enough of a mental strain that could potentially effect our ability to play poker, upon arrival. Given that both Chris and I would be dealing right up until our departure, we had made arrangements to take two cars in order to accommodate our entire crew. In exchange for each of us paying for the gas and tolls on the drive up to Turning Stone, neither of us would have to drive — this would allow us to rest up a bit.
My group of buddies consisted of four of my closest friends — Brian, Theo, Max, and Scott. I had brought Theo around to Spades more than a few times, and he regularly played poker, unlike the others. However, he wasn’t very good, but he was very lucky, and he had no interest in studying the game. He got better the more he played, but was by all means, a fish. He loved to gamble, and blackjack was his favorite game — most likely not a coincidence.
I had invited Andy to tag along as well, but he wasn’t interested and declined — he instead made me a standing offer, an open invitation if you will, to go crush poker in Atlantic City, where there was better action and nicer casinos. However, the offer was only good if we would be going to seriously grind poker. This was an offer that I would later redeem.
Chris had assembled his boys just as I had — three experienced poker players and gamblers, each in their early 20’s, just like Chris. The youngest of his crew was Rich, who was 21, and the two others were Derek and Joe, either 23 or 24 years old.
Finally, our plans were set and the rooms were booked. We’d all be staying for 3 nights and 2 days in two, separate, 2 queen bed suites. I was anxious, yet excited, and I seriously wanted to book a win in the poker room, considering it would be my first casino poker room session.
Sunday finally arrives, and I had decided to wake up a few hours early so that I could stock up on booze and weed. My buddies and I had agreed to split the cost of everything — 4 bottles of Smirnoff, an ounce of Sour Diesel, and four 24-packs of Coors Light. In retrospect, this was probably entirely too much for 3 nights at a casino, but what did we know? I wasn’t a big smoker at the time, although I would partake, but I did enjoy drinking when the time was appropriate to let loose.
While on my way driving to Spades, I hear my phone ring — it’s Chris.
“Hey dude, you on your way to the club?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there in about 15 minutes. I just finished running some last minute errands, stocked up on booze and weed for the trip.”
“Awesome. I’m good to go on my end, too. By the way, my plan is to splash around in the $1/$2 or $2/$5 games Turning Stone spreads. I’m bringing $10k.”
“What?! $10k??? Why?!”
“Well, dude, I’m gonna hit the pits too and play some blackjack and craps. We’ll crush some poker first, then afterwards maybe you’ll hit the pits with me.”
“I dunno, man. I’m only gonna bring $2k in total, and that’s for all my costs. Maybe I’ll assign half of that to my poker roll for the trip.”
“You should probably stick to $1/$2 then, and save some of your roll for blackjack, to try and run it up.”
“Alright, sounds good. I’ll see you at the club in a bit.”
I wasn’t convinced about hitting the pits to play table games, but then again, I surely wanted to make the most out of my first casino experience.
I arrive at Spades, set up for the Sunday afternoon tournament, and put in the hours for my shift. I wind up dealing the final table, and the tournament ends at around 11PM. Chris was dealing cash, but we had both made sure to get Vinny’s approval to leave early and take off for the next few days. It wasn’t really an issue for me, being that once the tournament was over, it meant my job was done, and I was free to have a good night. However, Chris made sure to get another dealer to cover for him, both the rest of the night and until we got back from our trip.
Chris and I walk outside to the parking lot — it’s time to go pick everyone up. We each get into our cars and drive off to scoop up each one of our buddies. An hour or so later, I shoot Chris a text letting him know that I’m about to start the drive up to Verona, NY, which was where Turning Stone is located. He responds, telling me that he had already started the journey about 10 minutes prior, and that he’ll call me when he gets there.
I have Theo take the wheel and get into the driver’s seat, as I jump into the back to close my eyes to try and clear my head for what’s about to come. Without making any stops, we finish the drive in just under 4.5 hours. We can see the illuminated, brightly colored sign — “Turning Stone Casino”, and my heart begins to pump just a little bit faster. I’m beginning to get excited. At this point, it was around 4:30AM. Sure, I was a bit tired, but the excitement and novelty of my first casino experience was keeping my adrenaline pumping.
I give Chris a call, letting him know that we’re about to park our car, and head into the casino towards the check-in area.
“Chris, we’re here man! This place is awesome!”
“I know dude, we got here about a half hour ago. I’m in my room changing, getting ready to go play some cards. Did you check-in yet?”
“Not yet, we’re about to head over to the check-in desk and get our room keys. I’m pretty tired man, are you sure it’s a good idea to go play right now?”
“Don’t worry about that, I already scoped out the room. There’s some good action going on in both $1/$2 and $2/$5. I already put our name’s on the lists. Text me when you’re done getting settled in, but drop by room after. Make sure you come alone.”
“Okay… I’m gonna tell my boys that we’re gonna play some poker for a little bit, while they hit the casino floor. My buddy Theo might want to join us. I’m not sure though, I have to ask him. My boys will probably want to get nice and toasty before they head out of the room.”
“Sounds good dude, don’t take too long. See you in a bit.”
My friend Scott handles the check-in, puts the incidentals coverage under his credit card, and I make sure to get a copy of the room key for myself. We head up to the room, we all change into presentable, formal, evening attire, and I crack open a beer, along with everyone else. I ask everyone what they plan on doing for the next few hours, while suggesting that I’ll be preoccupied playing cards in the poker room. This was nothing but expected, they all knew how often I played poker.
Everyone unanimously agrees that they want to hit the pits and gamble, of course, after they get hammered in the room. I casually ask Theo if he’s interested in playing poker with Chris and I, but he declines, saying that he’s not in the mood and would rather play tomorrow night, if at all.
I finish my beer, but not before forcing everyone to agree to a bet, in order to make things more interesting — whoever comes back to the room as the biggest loser gets $50 each from everyone else. We unanimously decide that it’s actually a decent idea, and everyone agrees. I leave our room and head towards Chris’ suite.
I arrive at Chris’ door, and I give it quick, but firm knock. A few seconds later, the door opens, and I find that there’s nobody in the room except Chris. All of his buddies had already gone downstairs, and were gambling on the casino floor. I tell him I’m pretty tired, and then I ask him why he wanted me to come alone.
“Chris, I’m pretty tired, man. You sure we should go play?”
“100%. I told you, I already scoped out the games that are running. The stacks are big and there’s some good money to be made.”
“Alright, fine. But, why did you want me to come here alone, by the way? Is everything alright?”
“Yeah, dude. Here, I wanted to give you this. Take two of these, you’ll be in the zone while you play for the next 8 hours.”
“What kind of pills are these? What are they going to do?” — I had never really taken drugs or pills before, other than drinking and smoking weed occasionally. I did, however, try Mushrooms earlier during the summer, and that was fun, but was completely inexperienced when it came to pharmaceuticals, or any other drugs for that matter.
“It’s Adderall, it’s a stimulant. They’re 20mg each, take two of them. It’ll make you much more focused and able to concentrate on the game for the next 8 hours or so. You might feel a bit more chatty, and it’ll kill your appetite, but I promise you, it’ll give you an edge. All those players down there right now are tired and worn out from playing. These will put you in the zone, if you know what I mean.”
“Fuck it, I’ll give it a shot. We came to have a good time anyway. I’m not gonna lose control of myself, am I?”
“Hah, no, dude. It’s nothing like that. They prescribe this stuff to people who have trouble focusing and paying attention. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. You’ll feel them start to work in about 45 minutes to an hour.”
Chris hands me two, orange-colored, oval shaped pills, and I swallow them dry. I had stashed $1k into the safe in my room before I left, and I had the other $1k in my pocket. We leave his room and head downstairs to make our way through the casino and into the poker room.
I was in a state of awe. This was by far the biggest poker room I had ever been in, up until this point. There must have been at least 30 tables. There were only a handful of games going during our arrival, but still, seeing everything all neat, organized, and ready for action, made me think about what this place would be like during peak hours.
I check out the $1/$2 game that’s going, and I see that the buy-in structure is not at all what I was expecting. It’s a $50 min and $200 max. Sure, there’s a few deep stacks on the table, but I felt like this game was much smaller than what I was used to playing. I decide that it’s going to be far too difficult to make any significant amount of money, unless I end up on the good side of a cooler. Overall, it would be a bad move to sit in this game.
On the other hand, the $2/$5 game that was running had a $200 min and $500 max buy-in. This was definitely more up my alley. Several players had stacks with at least $1k, and the average was probably right around the max, conveniently right around $500. With several players sitting deep and a couple of short stacks on the table, I come to the conclusion that this is the game I want to play, as I’m fairly certain that I have a decent shot at making some money at this table.
Chris had already put our name’s on the lists for both games when he had arrived earlier, so it wasn’t too long until our names were called. We were going to be sitting at the same table, and of course, made an agreement that if we were to get heads-up in a hand, either of us would make only one bet, and then check it down the rest of the way if the other called the bet. We weren’t there to take each other’s rolls, but if there were other players in the hand, then we weren’t going to soft play each other, nor try and sandwich anyone out of a pot.
Finally, my name is called, about 20 minutes after Chris had taken his seat, and I head over to the cage to buy $500 worth of chips — $280 in red, $200 in green, and $20 in white. Something I’ve always liked doing, still to this day, is buying at least a full stack of $1 chips.
The poker room had relatively nice chips, and I found them to be most excellent. They had a comfortable weight, handled nicely, and displayed a decent aesthetic design on them. They were definitely of a higher quality than any of the chips that the underground clubs used. That’s not to say that the clubs used cheap chips — of course, a few did, however only the casinos would purchase Paulson chips, which are the industry standard, despite them costing over $1 each chip.
I take my seat at the table, and all of a sudden, I feel this intense rush of energy. It felt like someone had turned my brain up to 11. Woah — I felt my eyes widen.
I introduce myself to the table, and I notice that I’m much more talkative than my normal self. However, I was able to maintain and participate in a fully-engaged conversation, while not missing a single detail of the action that was unfolding during each hand. I could multi-task like never before. I was faster at thinking through hands, I noticed more tells being telegraphed than ever before, and I was aware of the fact that my observations were razor-sharp. It felt like I had been wearing blinders up until this point, and now they were gone.
I was more astute than I had ever been before, accurately being able to predict who was going to play a hand, and who was going to fold, before they even made their action. I was paying attention to the game in the same way I would as if I was dealing it. I’d observe each player in turn, then move on to the next when their action was made.
I would also catch things out of the corner of my eye — a player’s posture suddenly becoming erect, while they would then immediately try to look disinterested, as they used their hands to protect their cards in such a manner that was subtle, yet distinct from their normal method of handling their cards. It was blatantly obvious to me now, when a player would deviate from their normal patterns of playing, behaving, speaking, bet sizing, time usage, and so forth.
I was playing really well. All of my value bets were getting called, my bluffs were getting through, and alarm bells would ring in my head, either to alert me of a perfect spot to make a squeeze play, or if something about the hand didn’t “seem right”. Something I definitely noticed about the Adderall, was that it made me feel much more confident in the plays that I made. It was much easier to pull the trigger, and when I did, I felt certain that my timing was right.
My range was also wider than it normally was. I was playing more hands, going for thin value on the river when I would normally check back, and had no problem laying down strong hands preflop, when I was sure I was behind, but would normally be too stubborn to let it go.
My session was going very well. Incredibly well, in fact. I made several huge hero calls, and I applied intense pressure on opponents who I deemed capable of folding, only to pick up pots I could never win at showdown.
About 3.5 hours had gone by at this point, and within the last hour a new player had taken a seat. His name was Duke, at least, that’s what other players were calling him. This guy was super aggro. He was opening every other hand, raising every C-Bet a player would make, and would just bully people out of the pot by shoving the river or bombing the turn with a $300 bet.
The majority of the table was getting annoyed with Duke. Whenever they would fold, they felt like he was bluffing with air, however, when they would inevitably get frustrated and make the call, he would actually have it, and get massive value. During the course of about an hour, he amassed a stack totaling around $900. He had absolutely no fear, and the money at stake, to him, was evidently insignificant. From his perspective, it seemed as if he was playing for, what you and I, would consider pennies.
I folded quite a few strong hands to his preflop 3-bets — AQ, TT, 88, and QJs. I would open to $15 or $20, and he would re-pop me to 4x or 5x. I even open folded AKo on an Ace-high, 3-flush board on the turn when he check-raised me all-in, only to show me complete air.
That was enough for me, this wasn’t going to continue — not tonight. I had now decided that I was going to be as patient as necessary, and only get involved in a pot with him if the situation was favorable to trap him. You can’t bully a player when the money at stake means far less to him than it does to you. Subsequently, you can’t get value from that same player who is good enough to recognize that you’re only showing him aggression when you have it — they’ll just fold instead of blasting off, knowing that you’re praying that they’ll come over the top.
About an hour and a half later, it was around 10AM now, and I had built my stack up to around $1200. Duke was sitting on just about the same, though slightly less, about $1100. He was still bullying people out of pots, and the majority, if not everyone else at the table was clearly annoyed with him. Low limit players often become angry when they encounter an opponent whose style of play isn’t within the same paradigm as their own. The key is to be capable of adjusting your own style of play.
Finally, preparation meets opportunity, and I pick up pocket Aces in UTG+1. I raise to $15, and of course get 3-bet by Duke in the Lojack to $60. The button cold calls, and for a split-second, I almost 4-bet, but I resisted what almost felt like a reflex, and decided to just call.
The flop comes A5A — I flop Quad Aces! That was the first time I ever flopped quads, let alone quad aces. I stick to my game plan of trapping, and I check my quads over to Duke, who also checks. The button checks as well, and we see a turn of a black 4.
The board now being A5A4 rainbow — every fiber of my being is burning on the inside, trying to tell me to start getting some value and make a bet to build a pot. Again, I resist, and check it. Both Duke and the button check back.
The river comes in, a red 9. The complete board run-out is A5A49 rainbow.
I check, again, for the 3rd time. Duke fires out $200 into the pot of $187, the button snap folds, and I immediately snap-shove on him for a total of around $1140. He looks completely perplexed, and then goes deep into the tank. Not a single player had yet displayed this level of aggression against him.
He’s now been thinking for about 6 or 7 minutes, and he announces to the table that he’s sorry he’s taking so long, but he needs some more time and has a decision here. Some random player chimes in, telling him to take all the time he wants, it’s the biggest pot of the night.
Another 3 minutes go by, and I’m starting to get agitated now. It’s been at least 10 minutes, the dealer is clearly annoyed, enough is enough. I call for the clock. The floor comes over and gives Duke the “countdown” speech, informing him that he has 30 seconds to make a decision.
Before the floor even begins the countdown, Duke announces, “CALL”.
Under the influence of the Adderall, I assume, I inexplicably get the impulse to table my hand similar to the way a blackjack dealer would table their cards.
I pull both cards adjacent to each other, now sitting side by side. Using one finger, I flip one of the Aces face up, and then use that same Ace to slide it underneath the other, and flip up the remaining facedown Ace. I somehow managed to pull this off with such finesse, that it all happened in one, smooth, fluid motion. It was most certainly a rare form of poker showboating, and it was an incredibly cocky, and unnecessary thing to do, however I just couldn’t help myself. I had just decimated the guy who was running over every single player.
The entire table is shocked to see that I reveal flopped quad Aces. Even more surprised, is Duke. He is absolutely stunned to his core. He tables Jack high. I immediately stand up from my chair, and lean in closer towards the table, while rubbing my eyes to confirm — yes, indeed. Jack high.
“You triple checked flopped quad aces.” — the tone of his speech indicating a statement, not even close to what asking a question would sound like, as if he was in disbelief of what had just happened.
“Yes, sir.”
“I just called you with Jack high.” — again, it seemed as if he was confirming, for himself, the reality of the situation that had just occurred.
“Yeah, you did, but why?”
“I couldn’t put you on a hand, and I thought that you had finally had enough of me pushing you out of pots. It didn’t make sense, how could you have anything there when you checked the whole way?”
“I took a risk, and I just figured that you would eventually try and steal it.”
“I’m not even mad, kid. Well played, very clever. I salute you.”
The dealer ships me Duke’s entire stack, plus the pot, and I toss him two green birds. I quickly start to stack all of the chips while I fold the next hand, and then I get up from the table, as does Chris.
“Dude! What a sick fucking play! What in the fuck! Triple checking quad aces?!!?!?”
“I know, right? I was waiting all night for that moment. I got stupid lucky that he called. I have no idea why he called me with Jack high. I mean, I heard what he said, but still, why? How?”
“You figured him out, dude. Plain and simple. Really nice play, I’m impressed. I don’t think I could ever have triple checked that.”
“Thanks, Chris. I think it was just the Adderall. I just felt like I absolutely knew that he was going to do exactly the same thing that he has been doing all night. Whenever he senses weakness, he bombs the river. I wasn’t expecting him at all to call my shove, but I knew that if I bet into two players while out of position, on an ace-paired board, after calling a 4x 3-bet from Duke with the button cold calling, they would both fold.”
“That actually makes a lot of sense. Great play, dude. Seriously, that was just sick. Let’s get out of here and see what the other guys are up to.”
Chris and I cash out, and we leave the poker room. I ran $500 up to about $2300. Chris booked a nice win himself, running $500 up to $1.1k. We both tipped the cashier behind the cage $10 each.
The two of us are still wired from the Adderall, but now only physically stimulated, and not at all under the influence whatsoever. Sleeping is not going to be an option, so we decide to head back to my room, and get to work on polishing off a few beers.
I insert the keycard into my room’s key slot, and slowly open the door, as I hear a circus of ruckus coming from inside the room.
All of the guys are inside — Theo, Brian, Max, Scott, Rich, Derek, and Joe — they’d gone through two bottles of Smirnoff, a bottle of Jameson that Rich had brought over, a 24-pack of Coors Light, a ton of the weed, and had now moved on to blow, which one of Chris’ buddies had scored from someone in the casino.
As far as I knew, none of my friends had ever done coke before. I certainly hadn’t. Everyone seemed to be really enjoying themselves, though, and who was I to judge? I had just played an intensely long poker session on some drug I had never heard of before, I won a bunch of money, all was good, and so I just went with the flow and chalked it up to an isolated incident on a vacation-like casino trip.
I asked my boys who had lost the most money, both as a way to settle the bet, and to make a subtle brag about how much I had won playing poker. I wasn’t surprised at all — Brian was the biggest loser, totaling a net loss of a measly, yet exact, $100.
He was by far the cheapest person out of all of my friends. He would always argue down to the penny when it came to splitting checks, or getting reimbursed for fronting money for a purchase. Indeed, he sure was cheap, but he wasn’t at all stupid. He made sure that the other 3 guys — Theo, Max, and Scott — lost less than he did so that he could come out ahead on the bet. Of course, he took a gamble by not knowing the status of my winnings, but the worst that could happen was that he would either lose $100 or book a win taking a gamble with it. The 4 of us each paid up, $50 each, and he offset his $100 loss with a $200 gain, for a net profit of $100.
We all continued to drink, I tried a few lines myself, and everyone stayed up until the upcoming evening — it was now time to go gamble again. So, what did we do? We drank even more, smoked a blunt, and finished off the 8-ball of blow.
The 9 of us were thoroughly bombed. Any and all traces of our decision making skills were completely distorted.
Joe was playing $100 flips with Derek — they would cut a deck of cards and whoever cut to the higher card would win. Rich was playing beer pong with Scott for $50 a match, Theo, Max, and Brian were playing $20 rolls of C-Lo with dice that they had bought from the gift shop, and Chris and I were having a pipe dream discussion about how much we were going to win playing blackjack in the next hour.
About 30 minutes later, all of us, while undoubtedly lacking full consciousness, head down to the casino floor and make our way into the pits.
This time, I brought my entire roll, and so did Chris.
The first thing we did was stagger over to a roulette table, only to sloppily introduce ourselves to the dealer.
“Hey sweetheart, listen, we need your help. Black or red?”
“Are you trying to ask me whether I think you should bet on black or red?”
“Ya, of course. You know how you’ve been spinning that ball. Black or red? Which are you feeling?”
Chris and I both take out our rolls and count out $1,000 each.
“Whatever you pick, sweetheart. If we win, you get 10%. If we lose, you think you could get us a comp for 9 to the Wildflowers restaurant?”
“Put it on black, boys. How about we just concentrate on winning for the time being?”
“Let’s do it! $2,000 on black!”
With a quick flick of her forefinger, the dealer launches the tiny ball into motion, and it begins to spin around and around the track of the roulette wheel. The dealer waves her hand over the table to close the action.
“No more bets!”
To be continued…
Next:
Inside Underground NY Poker #10 submitted by In retrospect back in the 1990's, I feel the City Mayor and City Police did a excellent job responding the downtown City Business ordinance complaints from respectable business owners being ashamed of the "Scum Of The Earth" Full Service Massage Parlors and street prostitutes defacing the integrity of their business located on Liberty Avenue.
I spoke to other senior citizens from that era that recall walking or driving down the street and having a prostitute wave to you say to "Hey Sailor Boy" looking for a date?
At any rate, downtown Pittsburgh zoning restrictions and Architectural renovations has appeared to dramatically to improve the culture those zoning ordinances on Liberty Avenue.
In the early 2000, 2 miles from my neighborhood on the North Shore they built PNC Park, Heinz Field and in 2009 they built Rivers Casino
Even though River's Casino business store front "Eye Candy" and quality landscape design helps to solicit the sales marketing of their products, statistically the Casno has increase the crime rate in my neighborhood.
FUTHERMORE. I STILL SMELL THE OLD 1980'S HUMAN TRAFFICKING CULTURE INTEGRATED INTO THE ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE PROGRAMED INTO THEIR SLOT MACHINES!
Being that Artificial Intelligence has become thought of as a possible threat of the end of humanity, by replacing our planets human power with robots and computers, it has certainly has developed at River's Casino.
For example, my Win/Loss statements from 2015-2019 depict a loss if $267,000.00, from playing the slot machines at Rivers Casino to earn points for entries into Corvette, RV $100k-$1M drawing promotions and their "Black Card Signature Membership marketing products.
Being that I currently do NOT gamble or play slots at Rivers Casino, I feel blessed that I now have at least "2 Nickels" I can rub together.
I need $90,000 this year. I am quite certain humanity no longer exist at Rivers Casino and that Artificial intelligence is their leading force that destroyed my life.
Gambler's Anonymous is not going to waste my time making make me think that the Casino is NOT scamming me when it already DID!
submitted by Leaning into the mic, face flushed, speaking with unhurried and angry deliberation, Donald Trump told a cheering New Hampshire audience: "We're gonna bring businesses back. We're gonna have businesses that used to be in New Hampshire, that are now in Mexico, come back to New Hampshire. And," pausing for applause, "you can tell them, to go fuck themselves! Because, they let you down, and they left!"
The crowd roared its approval.
It has become apparent that very few coastal lefties, progressives, or liberals actually watched any full-length Trump speeches. I have a different problem: I may have watched too many. During early spring I went down a multi-week-long, late-night, Trump YouTube rabbit hole. I found myself watching hours of raw video feed of Trump campaign speeches. Insomnia got me there but I stayed for the mesmerizing dada quality of the Trump show, and for the mind-bending experience of watching a reality TV freak articulate surprisingly subversive political truths about the economy and America's role in the world.
Contrary to how he was portrayed in the mainstream media Trump did not talk only of walls, immigration bans, and deportations. In fact he usually didn't spend much time on those themes. Don't get me wrong, Trump is a racist, misogynist, and confessed sexual predator who has legitimized dangerous street-level hate. Most of all, Trump is a fraud. And his administration will almost certainly be a terrible new low in the evolution of American authoritarianism.
But the heart of his message was something different, an ersatz economic populism, which has been noted far and wide, but also a strong, usually overlooked, antiwar message. Both spoke to legitimate working-class concerns.
Furthermore, his message was delivered with passion and a strange warmth. Dare I say it? Donald Trump has charisma. It is a mix of almost comic self-confidence, emotional intelligence, a common touch, but also at times slight vulnerability. Let's face it, even the aura of sex around Trump -- sleazy and predatory, sometimes sophomoric, as in the "small hands" jokes -- was at least part of a libidinal aura.
Hillary Clinton, on the other hand, constrained by sexist double standards and lawyerly calculation, too often came across as bloodless. At her best moments, like facing down the vainglorious Trey Gowdy, she exuded impressive competence, brains, and steely self-control. She bested Trump in the debates. But more often, Clinton came across like a scripted and dissembling Human Resources manager.
At almost every turn the liberal pundits misunderstood, or did not hear, what Trump was saying. After his win in the Nevada caucus Trump said: "We won with highly educated, we won with poorly educated. I love the poorly educated! We're the smartest people, we're the most loyal people." Liberals lampooned him, assuming that he had insulted part of his base.
A different interpretation translates those comments as: "Trump understands that it's not all my fault that I couldn't get an education. He understands that even people who don't have advanced degrees can make good decisions and are worthy of respect."
One of the few coastal elites to have cracked the Trump discursive code is the otherwise odious Peter Thiel, who told the National Press Club, "the media is always taking Trump literally. It never takes him seriously, but it always takes him literally." Voters on the other hand, said Thiel, "take Trump seriously but not literally." Bingo!
Or to translate this into the academese of Roland Barthes, perhaps Trump's discourse was more "writerly" (scriptable) than its simple sounds suggested; that is his meanings, because of the form of their delivery, were open to multiple understandings and re-assembly by the listener. Even his endlessly invoked wall, in reality a proposal for more militarized policing, could sound like a public works scheme, an infrastructure-based jobs program.
The writerly nature of Trump's rhetoric was apparent in his contradictions. He infamously kicked off his campaign with his racist "they're sending rapists" comments. But later asserted that he had "a tremendous relationship with the Mexican people." And said, "I love Mexican people." "They're great workers. They're fantastic people and they want legal immigration."
Again, the smart set smirked at Trump's inconsistency. But in the logic of the Chaos Candidate's discourse each statement was a floating signifier that audiences could use as they wished.
In Trump's discourse A does not necessarily connect to B. If you don't like A, just focus on B. The structure of Trump's discourse will never demand that all the pieces be connected. That, in part, is what he meant with the Orwellian phrase "truthful hyperbole." He has even described his own statements as mere "opening bids" in a negotiation.
Clearly, some people of color took Trump's invitation not to connect the dots and focused more on Trump's disavowal of racism than on his racist utterances. If in fact 29 percent of Latinos did vote for Trump (this shocking statistic is disputed) having sunk into the variety-show style discourse of his stump speeches, I can imagine how some people could convince themselves to overlook Trump's racism and just embrace his ersatz populism.
Hillary never insulted Mexicans or threatened to deport them. Yet she never seemed to declare her "love" for them either.
A typical Trump speech would tee-up with reference to "the wall" but then quickly pivot to economic questions: trade, jobs, descriptions of economic suffering, critiques of deindustrialization. His speeches were rambling, freewheeling, peppered with non-sequiturs and shout-outs to local businessmen, effusive thanks to key local supporters and to the crowd as a whole. "Beautiful. So, so nice. So nice. So, they say we set a record tonight."
Often Trump's sentences were just distinct phrases strung together. The lack of structure, far from boring, gave his stump talks an almost hypnotic quality. The listener could relax and just let it flow. In this regard Trump seems to a have stepped from the pages of Neil Postman's old book Amusing Ourselves To Death, in that he personified the cut-up dada style assault on coherent thought that is the essence of television.
Choppy as they were, Trump's speeches nonetheless had a clear thesis: Regular people have been getting screwed for far too long and he was going to stop it.
"When I see the crumbling roads and bridges, or the dilapidated airports, or the factories moving overseas to Mexico, or to other countries, I know these problems can all be fixed, but not by Hillary Clinton -- only by me. The fact is, we can come back bigger and better and stronger than ever before -- Jobs, jobs, jobs!" And amid the wacky bricolage he would suddenly sound like Bernie Sanders: "I would never support what has to be the craziest idea in the history of US politics: allowing the government to invest Social Security retirement funds in the stock market."
Then he might read a few poll results, mock an opponent, and move on, perhaps to praising veterans. "So backstage, I met some of the vets, the greatest people we have in this country." From there he would slide into antiwar, anti-NATO, maybe even anti-imperialist riffs, delivered not in a "woke" fashion, but rather in the "let them fight their own wars" vein of American isolationism.
"She made a terrible mistake on Libya. And not only did she make the mistake, but then they complicated the mistake by having no management once they bombed the you-know-what out of Gadhafi." He told his audiences what many of them already knew but never saw discussed on TV, that US foreign policy has delivered apocalyptic outcomes: "We would be so much better off if Gadhafi were in charge right now. If these politicians went to the beach and didn't do a thing, and we had Saddam Hussein and if we had Gadhafi in charge, instead of having terrorism all over the place, at least they killed terrorists, all right?"
Meanwhile, Hillary ramped up her anti-Russia and anti-Assad rhetoric, giving voters the impression she would deliver yet more war. Trump also linked war to economic suffering in America. Consider this, from a New Hampshire speech:
We spent $2 trillion in Iraq. China is taking a lot of the oil, just so you understand. ISIS may have it and Iran may have it, but China is taking out a lot of the oil. Can you imagine? We spent -- we never do anything right with China. We spent $2 trillion. Thousands of lives of great people, mostly young, beautiful people, wounded warriors, who I love, all over the place, all over the place, not treated properly by the way.
And then:
Iran and Iraq, they were the same. They were twins. They have wars for years -- wars, boom. One goes this way, one goes that way. One -- and I said if you take out one, the other one is going to take over. Well, we took out one and look at the mess we have. We destabilized the Middle East and it is a mess . . . I mean I'm not a fan of Saddam Hussein, but he ran the place. And, he had no weapons of mass destruction. And now instead of Saddam Hussein, we have far more brutal. We have ISIS . . . What do we get out of this? What do we get?
Much to my surprise, the young Yemeni American shopkeeper at my local convenience store in Brooklyn supported Trump. Why? Because, instead of hearing in Trump's rhetoric a threat to round up Muslims, he heard a promise to stop supplying Saudi Arabia with bombs to drop on Yemen. "Over a thousand school kids killed by those bombs! Just little kids!"
Mainstream media typically treats American imperialism as sacrosanct, beyond criticism, and so Trump's antiwar message was mostly just ignored. But in much of the heartland -- where the people who actually fight America's wars come from, and go back to with their PTSD, missing limbs, addictions, and related financial burdens -- there is deep if quiet concern about the broadly defined costs and apparent failure of our belligerent foreign policy. Even the average "low information voter" -- while perhaps confused about the details -- knows that the country is at war, that this is expensive, kills people, and doesn't seem to lead to peace.
On election eve a friend in Alabama, a combat-disabled Iraq veteran turned contractor, sent me the following text:
I'll tell you man, this is how we won. Some percent of minorities, LGBT, women and Muslims crossed over . . . People are sick of the corruption and trump is going to be very socially liberal, minus abortion. And his spending priorities are totally anti-conservative, minus military. Honestly man, I'm praying that he doesn't let the system change him. It's gonna be a lot harder than he thinks. Fuck Koch brothers. And Fuck Paul Ryan too.
Turns out my Trump-supporting friend was to some extent correct. Despite Trump's infamous bigotry he outperformed both Romney and McCain among African Americans, Asian Americans, and Latinos.
These were Hillary's firewalls and they all cracked, at least enough for a few sparks to get through. Half a million black women who voted for Obama in 2012 stayed home in 2016. 13 percent of black men voted for Trump. And where Obama got 60 percent of voters making under $50,000 in 2012, Hillary was closer to 50 percent. That's not a crack; it's a gaping hole.
The Democratic Party establishment, now spinning desperately to cover their own strategic incompetence, is blaming the white working class as "deplorable" racists. Progressives and leftists who echo this line are making the worst mistake possible.
If Trump's victory were merely the result of racism how could it be that many white blue-collar, rust-belt areas voted for Obama by wide margins in 2008 and 2012 but then voted Trump? Obama received 1.5 million more votes from white men than did Hillary.
If Trump's victory were just sexism how could it be that 42 percent of women with college degrees voted for him? Something deeper is going on.
Nate Cohn of the New York Times described the geography:
The Wyoming River Valley of Pennsylvania -- which includes Scranton and Wilkes-Barre -- voted for Mr. Trump. It had voted for Mr. Obama by double digits. Youngstown, Ohio, where Mr. Obama won by more than 20 points in 2012, was basically a draw. Mr. Trump swept the string of traditionally Democratic and old industrial towns along Lake Erie. Counties that supported Mr. Obama in 2012 voted for Mr. Trump by 20 points.
Obama won Iowa in 2012; Trump won it this time. That same pattern -- Clinton underperforming Barack Obama among white working-class voters -- spread all across the upper Midwest and Northeast. This cost her key electoral college states she had expected to win, most notably Pennsylvania, Michigan, and Wisconsin.
What was it that the voters saw in Trump? The mainstream media version of Trump was as a crazy and brutal pig -- not entirely untrue. The words "huge" and "tremendous" were leitmotifs in mocking Trump's limited vocabulary. But his stump speech lexicon also included "loyalty" "win" "pledge" "beautiful" and "love" -- lots and lots of "love."
In that New Hampshire speech where Trump dropped the F-bomb he followed it up with: "We want the businesses that stayed. I've toured a lot of businesses that stayed. It's hard for them to stay . . . those are the ones that we have to love and cherish."
Or consider the particularly emotional exchange Trump had with a father from upstate New York. "I lost my son two years ago to a heroin overdose," says the father from off camera. "Well, you know they have a tremendous problem in New Hampshire with the heroin," says Trump. "Unbelievable. It's always the first question I get, and they have a problem all over. And it comes through the border. We're going to build a wall."
Then, instead of moralizing anger, playing against type come compassion and respect: "In all fairness to your son, it's a tough thing. Some very, very strong people have not been able to get off it. So we have to work with people to get off it."
At this point it becomes clear that the bereaved father has started to cry. Trump shifts to tough-guy reassuring. "You just relax, OK? Yeah, it's a tough deal. Come on. It's a tough deal." And, in a veiled reference to Trump's own brother's death from alcoholism, "I know what you went through." Then, to the audience while pointing at the father: "He's a great father, I can see it. And your son is proud of you. Your son is proud of you. It's tough stuff, it's tough stuff, and it could be stopped."
My point is not that we should like Trump but rather that the Left must understand why almost sixty million Americans voted for him. The answer seems clear: it was Trump's ersatz populism, antiwar message, and his ability to, in a Bill Clinton style, "feel" people's real pain.
Ultimately, the Democratic establishment brought this loss on themselves. They spurned and tried to sabotage Bernie Sanders and his class message. Trump took the Bernie-style populism, emptied it of real class politics, reduced it to a jumble of affective associations, and used it to beat up the smug liberals of the professional managerial class. It worked.
Alas, too bad for all those well-meaning Trump voters and everyone else. Trump is a fraud, a ripoff artist who leaves unpaid bills and collapsed casinos in his wake.
The next four years look very grim indeed. As president he will attempt to govern by Twitter and soundbite, dragging American political discourse deeper into the muck. The worst-case scenario is that Trump will establish a modus vivendi with the far-right Koch-brother-led wing of the GOP and achieve a historic gutting of the regulatory state plus a momentary debt, tax-cut, and infrastructure-funded economic boom. This could consolidate a new right-wing populist base -- at least until it all comes crashing down. If the Democrats continue shunning the working class, they will only help solidify Trumpism.
Or perhaps the Chaos Candidate's colossal ego, infamously short attention span, and apparent pleasure in firing people will produce the Chaos Cabinet and exacerbate divisions within the GOP and paralysis on the policy front. Perhaps, the Clinton- DNC cabal can be broken up and run off and the Democratic Party can re-launch on the basis of a neo-Rooseveltian/Sanders style set of programs.
Either way, the grassroots left -- as in social movements, advocacy groups, and organized labor -- faces scary and unprecedented challenges.
http://nonsite.org/editorial/listening-to-trump submitted by Win/Loss Statement There are three ways to submit your Win/Loss Statement Request to Bear River Casino Resort: 1. ... Bear River Casino, Hotel, Thirsty Bear Lounge, Rivers Edge Restaurant, and Express Café. This closure will continue in effect through Thursday, ... Players need to wager the bonus Rivers Casino Pittsburgh Pawin Loss Statement amount and the winnings from the bonus spins 35 times. The Bonus Rivers Casino Pittsburgh Pawin Loss Statement Spins are credited after the 1st deposit and once the player wagers €20 on slots. 18+, New Customers Only. Gamble Responsibly - Win Loss Statements. Twin River Rewards Club members are now able to receive win/loss statements emailed to them via the Twin River mobile app! Search for ‘Twin River’ in your app store today! Please use the form below to receive your win loss statement. W2G, 1099 OR WIN/LOSS STATEMENT REQUEST In order for Little River Casino to release this information, each customer is required to submit a signed “W2G, 1099 or Win/Loss Statement Request Form.” Only official request forms will be accepted for processing. This means that if you got $10 of free credit, you’ll have to play for example 1000 spins at $1 each to roll it over. Note that not all games are allowed to Rivers Casino Pittsburgh Pawin Loss Statement be played with the bonus credit, and not all games contribute at Rivers Casino Pittsburgh Pawin Loss Statement the same rate to roll over requirements. Request In-Person. Complete a Request form for your Win/Loss Statement and/or Tax Form at the Players Club. Players Club can generate Win/Loss Statements for you. If you are requesting copies of your tax forms, fill out the form and then send it to Revenue Audit to process. When the maximum Rivers Casino Des Plaines Win Loss Statement bonus balance is a lower amount you will usually Rivers Casino Des Plaines Win Loss Statement find yourself with more fair t&c. If Rivers Casino Des Plaines Win Loss Statement you’re unsure what terms and conditions apply to a specific bonus we always recommend that you read our highly detailed reviews of the casino in question. Rivers Casino & Resort Schenectady makes no representation or warranty, express or implied, as to the accuracy of this information or its effectiveness as proof of losses. Signature By clicking here, I verify that I'm requesting my own Win/Loss Statement and that the above signature is my own. Instant Win/Loss form is now live! Click on the button and enter your Rush Rewards Card Number and PIN to receive your win/loss by email. Must have a valid email attached to your Rush Rewards account. Please visit the Rush Rewards Players Club to provide or updated.
Rivers Casino security camera video is playing a prominent part in the Allegheny County trial of a man charged with tracking and robbing casino customers. Su... Rivers Casino Pittsburgh is a premier entertainment destination featuring 2,710 slot machines, 125 table games, a brand new sports book, and over 25,000 sq. ... Went to rivers casino with my friend and he hit alot of slots and won big.. Professional Gambler Makes $1,600 With Baccarat Winning Strategy At Rivers Casino In Pittsburgh By Christopher Mitchell. In this video, I win $1,600 playing ... I had never seen a live handout jackpot until tonight. I thought it was a unicorn. A mythological create that was only told about but never seen. Tonight, my... Nice little hit on the spin. Had reached the free spin bonus round. I had lots of free spins. I visited Rivers Casino recently, here is a collection of wins from that trip! Bonuses on: Goldfinger, Huff N' Puff, Mighty Cash Outback Bucks, Butterfly Kis... Big Mike hit another one on Cash Explosion with max bet at $7.20 a spin. #Big Bucks no Whammies 💰💰💰💰💰💰💰💰💰💰 In case you missed these AMAZING VegasLowRoller YouTube videos, here are a few huge wins from my channel:A HUGE WIN:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rCOLBnVO5...