The Average American Gambler?

I believe this man may be the poster boy for the average American Gambler.

http://www.sgvtribune.com/news/ci_6049917

Phil Drake: Seeking a break from vacation

I am now in Week No. 2 of my vacation, or as I call it: "The Great Exile of 2007."

I haven't gotten nearly as much housework done as I had hoped. For some reason I get lured into court shows such as "Judge Joe Brown" and "The People's Court" and other fare such as reruns of "According to Jim." Before I know it, the day has been shot.

About halfway through the week I began to notice that my pet, Mighty Pica the Wonder Dog, was beginning to resent me being home. I guess I started to notice Wednesday that whatever room I entered, she would get up and leave.
Or, I'd be in the middle of telling her something and she would just get up and leave the room.

But I think we both had enough of each other. Fireworks are already in full swing in my neighborhood and they drive her crazy. On the Sunday before Memorial Day a full barrage went off about 9 p.m. and the dog was a mess.
I slipped her a tranquilizer that I got from my vet and in about 10 minutes I heard her hit the floor. She didn't crawl down to her side, as if she were going to lie down. Instead, it was a full-throttle "fallump" kind of sound that filled the house.

She survived. But I think these experiences take a harder toll on me.

Friday morning I decided to give her a break from me. I pulled $100 out of the bank and headed toward Palm Springs.

"Well, I'll take one-third of my winnings and give it to charity," I told myself in between puffs of a Phillie's Sweet cigar. "I'll put another third in savings and use the rest to add a second bathroom to my house."
I got to the Morongo Casino in about 80 minutes and soon found myself sitting at a slot machine. Within an hour most of my $100 was gone.

"No one robs Phil Drake of his dreams!" I shouted while shaking my fist at the heavens.
I decided to get back at the casino the only way I knew how: I would eat at their buffet and bring them to their knees.

I imagine casino officials will talk for years about the surly, portly stranger in the worn green shirt who emptied the buffet tables.

"He ate the garlic mashed potatoes as if there was no tomorrow!" one executive will exclaim before breaking down in tears.

"Why did he pull his chair up to the dessert table? Why didn't he just carry some back to his table?" another will ask.

Well, it will be a while before I go back to Morongo. And I guess it will be a while before they let me back in, at least to the buffet.

On another topic I just wanted to alert readers to something offered on our Web site.
You can now send in photos to My Tribune at www.sgvtribune.com and post photos of yourself, your pets and various school graduations.

Don't expect to see any photos of me posted on the site, but I thought I'd let you know in case you wanted to check it out.