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DKNG IS BACK
TIFU by not realizing I was staring at someone's breasts.
I work as a table games dealer in a tribal casino thats still open during the pandemic. In order to stay as safe as possible the casino has put up plexiglass barriers on all the tables between the dealer and the players with enough room under for the players to place bets and pick up cards. Ive recently realized that on certain games, (pai gow, 3 card poker, pitch blackjack) i can see the reflection of players cards in their hands on the plexiglass. Ive been using this information to entertain my players by telling them I can guess their hands based purely on their eyes expression. (Everyone's wearing masks for covid) its all for entertainment purposes and there is no cheating involved. Most of my player get a kick out of it. One player did not. submitted by jessedjd to tifu [link] [comments]
A young lady in her 30s in a slightly revealing top sits in the only open spot on my pai gow table. I deal the cards, and start looking around at the players hands. Her first hand is a full house. Three aces and a pair of 9s.
Without realizing that looking at the reflecion of the plexiglass puts my eyes in direct line of site to her chest, i look at her, point at her cards, give a big thumbs up and say "very nice". she had missunderstood my comment of her cards as a comment about her chest and started to flip out.
I didn't realize what was going on for a second. My floor came over wondering what was going on. The player told my floor I was being "perverted" and a pig. I was honestly confused because I hadn't realized what had happened. My floor (who really doesn't like me) started asking the player what happened before asking me. The player said I was ogling her tits (her words) and making obscene comments. The floor was highly surprised by the accusation, mainly because everyone knows im a married man and I don't generally make comments about woman's appearances.
The whole time she's talking to my floor, she has her cards face down on the table. She doesnt know that I know what's in her hand. She's talking about me needing to be fired and that she wanted to talk to the top manager in my department. My floor goes to the phone to call the pit boss (without asking for my side of the story).
While the floor is at the phone, I first apologize, then I explain to the lady I was complimenting her on her full house. She gets a confused look in her eyes. I say "I was commenting on your hand. You have 3 aces and 2 9s." She asks me how I know what her hand is. I explained that I can see her cards in the reflection of the plexiglass. I even tell her the guy on last spot has a pai gow. He flips his hand over and shows that he does indeed have a pai gow. (Pai gow means no pair in hand)
She gets quiet for a second, then apologizes for accusing me of being inappropriate. The floor comes over and tells her the pit boss is on his way. The lady says it was all a misunderstanding and stands up from the game after i finish paying everyone.
I get off the game, explain to the pit boss what happened, and he just laughs it off. The floor however, hasn't heard my explanation, nor knew what really happened. This morning ive recieved 3 different texts from coworkers about the incident. The floor has apparently told a bunch of our coworkers that i complimented a ladies chest, and now my department thinks I'm a pervert.
TL;DR was falsely accused of staring at a woman's chest, now my entire department at work thinks I'm a pervert.
Art “The Chief” Rooney’s North Side Golden Rule
The Chief submitted by Night_Wolf_13 to steelers [link] [comments]
“My father always used to tell us boys, "Treat everybody the way you'd like to be treated. Give them the benefit of the doubt. But never let anyone mistake kindness for weakness." He took the Golden Rule and put a little bit of the North Side in it.” — Art Rooney Jr. on his father
What a man “The Chief” was.. Just a man of the people, no other way to put it. A kind hearted, sports loving, and gambling degenerate we can all relate too.
Before paying the franchise fee of ONLY $2,500 ( I now know without a doubt, the first thing I’m doing with a time traveling machine) The Chief was a boxer in college that qualified for the Olympics. Played minor league baseball and served as the Player-Manager, awhile leading the team in several stat categories. Then, he starts playing Halfback/Manger with two semi-pro football teams in Pittsburgh that he eventually takes over, combines the two teams and named them after himself. Just out there making moves.. This team would later become the pro franchise after only paying $2500... This guy was basically who Jackie Moon had wet dreams about. Chief Rooney’s Legendary Day at the Track
Just three years after purchasing the team, The Chief hit a parlay at the Saratoga race track of 160,000!!Using an inflation calculator that comes out to 2.9 Mill in 2020! Now there is some dispute about the actual number, some reports was it was close to 250,000. Either way, The Chief loved the ponies and that’s a shit ton of money back then. Obviously, he used those earnings and invested it into his football team and other ventures. Allegedly, The Chief NEVER bet on Steelers games. It was only the ponies, I actually choose to believe that. I think he loved the team to much to risk losing it. Source
-“Rooney`s connection with the operation surfaced during the trial of Paul Hankish, 58, whom the government said started running a bookmaking operation in Bridgeport, Ohio, in 1957.” - “U.S. Attorney William A. Kolibash wrote in a statement released Tuesday that a Hankish associate took out-of-state bets over the telephone ''from a Pittsburgh-based group headed by Art Rooney, who they code-named No. 42.'' - “No. 42'' placed bets with a Mississippi and Texas bookmaker totaling $100,000 a weekend, the statement said. But the statement referred to several No. 42s and it was unclear whether it referred to Rooney.” - “The Hankish associate, Norman Farber, said he met Hankish in 1957 after setting up a small-time horse betting operation. This was the middle man for the horse bets. - “Mr. Farber had a gambling connection with Mr. Rooney not involving football, Mr. Rooney was not betting on Steelers games.''
It wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows for our Chief, the Steelers franchise went through some rough times. Before hiring Noll... One playoff game in 36 years. But, that never broke his love for the organization and players. Chief, would invite the grounds crew to the team box for dinners. This man treated EVERYONE with the same level of respect. It’s easy to see why the Rooney rule exits.
-Howard Cosell on the Rooney’s, “The Rooneys are the finest people, the people I most respect in American sports ownership. I've always felt that way. And there's no reason to change. They are people of integrity and character. The way they put the Steelers together, to hire a man like Chuck Noll, to emphasize the team concept. I have a whole transcendental feeling for the Steelers and the Rooneys and Pittsburgh. — Howard Cosell, October 1982
-Inviting a groundskeeper up to the owner's box for dinner, “I'll never forget the way he introduced me, 'This is Ralph Giampaolo, a member of our organization.' Not a member of our ground crew. Not some rinky-dink bum. But a member of 'our organization'. As far as [Curt] Gowdy knew, I was vice president of the team. Mr. Rooney made me feel 10 feet tall.”
We should all live by the North Side Golden Rule. If Art Rooney isn’t in your top 10 list to have a beer with after this... what are you doing with your life?
An interesting 100NL spot.
Hey guys. This is going to be a very short hand review as the details of the hand are really straightforward. At the time I played the hand I was happy with the way I played it but, after looking back, I'm not so sure anymore. For the record, this hand was played in a private club on a poker app (for those who will be factoring population tendencies into their advice) and I have a fair amount of history with this player so I had a lot of trust in my reads. submitted by Connman8db to poker [link] [comments]
We're 155 BB effective. I pick up 8c8d in the CO and I make it 3BB. A very tight player in the BB 3! to 12BB. His range is basically QQ+ and MAYBE AK. I call to set mine.
Flop (pot ~24BB): 9c7s6s
BB leads for 20BB. My suspicions are basically confirmed that this guy has a big pair or maybe sometimes AsKs. I am almost 100% sure that he will bet again on the turn if I flat (the dude always bum rushes the pot with overpairs even on the scariest textures). I think for a moment and elect to flat. My logic here is that, since I'm SO sure that my opponent has an overpair, I would be flatting all of my sets and 2-pair hands here and looking to jam on him when he barrels on most turns. So my plan was to do exactly the same thing with this hand as it's one of only a small handful of bluffs I can have. Thoughts? Should I have raised this flop to try to take the betting lead so that I could jam the turn myself?
Turn (Pot ~64BB): 9c7s6s4c
BB barrels for 40BB. Hero? The funny thing about this situation is that I'm getting damn near direct odds to just call and try to hit one of my 10 outs. The problem is that whenever I hit one of my 10 outs the board will just be ridiculously connected so I'm not all that sure how likely it is that I will get paid off when I get there. On the flip side though, with him betting 2/3 pot here on the turn he'd be getting 2:1 on a call if I jam so I'm not sure how much fold equity I have. So what's the play here?
Results: I jam for 83 BB more. V tanks and calls with AcAs. I brick the river and he scoops. Looking back, I think the EV difference between calling/jamming/folding was actually really small. That's got me second guessing whether I played the flop correctly.
Thanks in advance.
Welcome to Gettysburg (Day One)
Day Two Here Day Three Here submitted by mcjunker to TheMotte [link] [comments]
Gettysburg is by far my favorite battle of all time.
First, it is an all-American battle in an all-American war, and myself being an old school nationalist it carries significance that other battles simply don’t; I may find Austerlitz or Stalingrad nifty, but nobody there was my people.
More, it was an extraordinarily clean fight. At any point, a soldier on either side could hurl down their rifle and grab some sky and be reasonably assured of having their surrender accepted without reservation, and for that matter their captor could rely on their new POWs to trudge back to the rear under light guard in good faith. Even though much of the fighting took place in an urban environment with embedded civilians, only one civilian died in the fighting. Let me tell you, the more military history you read up on, the clearer it is that massacring civilians before, during, and after a rough fight is par for the course. One might even say that butchering unarmed men, women and children of the enemy tribe is the de facto
military objective more than half the time; it might be some weird, half instinctual, proto-game theory going on: “We told them to surrender or else. They didn’t surrender, we won anyway, and now there’s gotta be an ‘or else’ to persuade the next batch of holdouts that we mean business.” In the long run, butchering the first village usually made it morelikely the next three villages would get the message and surrender without a fight, saving the invaders men, materiel, and time. Or perhaps it’s that killing civilians has always been pure bloody-mindedness. But not at Gettysburg. Gettysburg is where the American platonic ideal of soldiers fighting soldiers and leaving the civilians be actually happened.
Another aspect to the battle that fascinates me is how utterly unplanned it was. Neither army had intended to fight there, and between the scale of the brawl, the rapidity of developments, the intransigence of their subordinates, and the communications lag, neither the Confederate general Lee nor the Union general Meade had a grip on the situation at all until the second day of the battle, and neither could enact their ideal plans until the third day. It was something of a clusterfuck for both sides, and the course of the battle depended on the initiative and guts of small unit commanders with little idea of what the big picture was.
Gettysburg tends to be remembered as the turning point in the war, when it stopped being a gallant passage at arms between roughly equal powers and started being a slow, painful inevitable grind towards Union victory. This is not exactly accurate; only with years of hindsight could anybody construct a narrative that framed this fight as the turning point, for at the time Gettysburg was seen as just another grisly slaughter yard in a long series of them. Still, between this fight and the conquest of Vicksburg out west, this does appear in hindsight to be the high watermark in terms of Confederate progress towards successful seccession. Certainly it was the last time any Confederate army went on the strategic offensive. For diehard secessionists (both during the war and in the years after), this was the last hurrah before the war started being truly hopeless.
It is also, I should mention, a place of spiritual significance for me. Myself being secular humanist with a vaccination against Protestantism from my younger days, I don’t have much in the way of codified religion. But when I was a youngin’ visiting relatives out east, I got to visit the battlefield. I found myself standing in front of a monument on the field on the north end of Herbst Wood (where the right flank of Iron Brigade stood and charged on the first day of the battle). It described how a Michigan regiment of about a thousand men stood on that spot and suffered two thirds casualties over the course of the day. I read the details on the monument, and stared up at the mustachioed rifleman staring defiantly to the west.
Looking left and right, I saw more monuments every fifty yards or so in a straightish line, spreading out to mark where a human line had once stood and bled. And I turned my back on the monuments to face away, and behold, I saw an opposing line of Confederate monuments stretched out horizon to horizon about a hundred yards away. Two lines, violently opposed but unmoving; courage and horror frozen into place forever. And the world there seemed very big, and very grand, and I felt very small and unworthy. The air was at once colder and hotter than any air I’d ever felt. The wind cut through my clothing and reminded me that flesh was mortal but spirit was eternal. This was holy ground, soil consecrated by blood. Shi’ite Muslims have Karbala. Catholics have the Road to Calvary. Australian aboriginals have Uluru. I have Gettysburg.
A brief note- I will be including maps periodically to show the progression of the fighting. These maps must be taken with a grain or three of salt. They are intended to show relations between the armies and the terrain, not to mark the exact positions or dispositions of the units, nor to show an exact proportion of numbers involved. This is because I am not an expert mapmaker, and I thank you in advance for your understanding. First, a map of the northern part of the battlefield.
Note how many roads lead there, and note the high ground of Cemetery Hill and Culp's Hill to the south of the town.
The Battle of Gettysburg happened because Lee needed to go on the offensive, and Lee needed to go on the offensive because of the big picture. I shall cover the broad outline just so the significance doesn’t pass anybody by.
The Confederacy in the Spring of 1863 was in a terrible dilemma. The leadership had two urgent problems, either one of which could (if unaddressed) destroy their enterprise, and to make things worse they didn’t have the resources to solve either of them alone without a miracle.
One, the Union was fixing to shove yet another army down Richmond’s throat. Two years of failed invasions into Virginia had been brutal to both sides, but the North had immense reserves of cash, food, industrial output, and manpower with which to replenish themselves, and the South simply didn’t. The Army of Northern Virginia on which every invasion thus far had broken was underarmed, underfed, and undermanned, and if these issues were not fixed then they’d be seeing Union soldiers in the Confederate capitol before Autumn. There had already been a push that year, which Lee had staved off at Chancellorsville. There was plenty of time left before winter for a second attack.
And two, Vicksburg, the railway hub that sat on the Mississippi River, was under dire threat. The Union had already grabbed New Orleans at the south end and pushed north up the river, and had been pushing south down the river since day one of the war, but Vicksburg prevented the whole river from falling in to Union hands. Vicksburg alone let the South shift resources and information from its Western half to its Eastern half. Losing it could be a death blow. The garrison of Vicksburg was also
underarmed, underfed, and undermanned.
The fresh crops taken off the farm and the fresh host of new recruits also taken off the farm were middling at best. Even throwing all the resources they had at either problem and letting the other develop as it would might mean losing on both fronts. Splitting the resources in half to prop up both didn’t seem promising either. Lee, being something of a strategist, developed a third option. There was no point (he reasoned) in trying to prop up Vicksburg at this point- it would take weeks to shift reinforcements that far west, and by then it would be midsummer. If the siege lasted that long, either the garrison would fold or disease would rip through the Yankee army and drive it back home, as it had the last two years running. In either scenario, further support would affect nothing. Therefore, he proposed a bold plan- don’t sit around waiting to get hit in the face. Invade north. Take the fight onto their
The more the Confederate leadership considered it, the better it sounded. Northern land hadn’t been ravaged like Virginia had- it would be easy to live off of the enemy’s food for once, thus lessening the headache of their constant supply problems. It was also an election year, and the anti-war Democrats were raging at the ocean of blood and gold being wasted on bringing States back into the fold who very clearly wanted to go their own way. One good, solid victory on Northern soil could tip the balance, drive home the point that that war was unwinnable. Get the Black Republican warmonger Lincoln kicked out of the White House, get a reasonable Democrat in, and next year they just might get a negotiated peace that would lead in time to true and recognized independence.
To which end-
Lee snaked his newly reinforced army of about 75,000 men up through the Shenandoah Valley, using the mountain range to mask his movements instead of using to well-worn direct route that the Union was camped on. He would end up north
of the bulk of the Army of the Potomac, simultaneously threatening Washington D.C., Pittsburgh, Baltimore, and Philadelphia, which for a guy trying to score a symbolic victory to discourage the enemy voters put him in a pretty nice spot.
Lincoln freaked out, told Hooker and his Army of the Potomac to go out and beat Lee, to utterly destroy his army, and also not leave any weak point undefended, which are just the kind of orders one enjoys receiving. Hooker, having a bit of an ego and a poor history of getting his ass kicked by Lee, got into a feud with Lincoln’s advisors and impulsively offered his resignation as Commander of the Army of the Potomac following some stupid spat with the bean counters back in Washington. Lincoln called his bluff and fired him three days before the battle, putting General Meade in charge of the whole damn army with almost no prep time.
I should cut the narrative here to cast moral aspersions right quick. The Union were the good guys, and the Confederates were the villains. That said, the North made for really terrible heroes, and the South had more than its fair share of virtues. This was not a grand crusade of freedom-loving Yankees tearing down the moral abomination of human bondage. This was a brutal, no holds barred death struggle between the efficient new urban Industrial Revolution and the rural Cavalier latifundias
. Only a smallish segment of New England Puritans and bleeding heart Quakers hated slavery on moral grounds- the rest of the North either hated it on financial grounds, didn’t give a fuck one way or another, or were actively supporting racial slavery. And on the flip side, most Southerners who fought in the war perceived quite accurately that outsiders were coming into their world to demand submission, and had decided to give these invaders the William Wallace treatment. This is a normal and admirable response that every healthy society should have in its toolbox, and in my not-even-slightly humble opinion it is a damn shame that so many people endured so much agony in support of so un-American a cause.
For you see, when Lee’s army reached Pennsylvania, they kidnapped every black person they could find, free or not, and sent them all south in chains. There was no attempt to ascertain their status by some legal due process, no splitting of hairs. The bare skeleton of Confederate ideology, the great Truth that would have snuffed out by continued political loyalty to the Union, had been that all men were not created equal. To be more precise, men had white skin, and anyone with black skin was not a man and did not have the rights of man. As such, anyone with black skin was to be sold into slavery and threatened with torture and death if they refused to labor in the cotton fields. The army that invaded the North was, in practice, the biggest slave-hunting gang that had ever set foot on American soil.
The side wearing grey were staunch defenders of a country based on the Ideal of Ethnic Supremacy, and the side wearing blue were fighting for a country based on the Ideal of Equality. There were a million nagging features of material reality in the South and the North that challenged both of these Ideals, but there were no Ideals to challenge these Ideals, save only for each other. We know that this is true, because as the war shifted away from a Federal attempt to rein in wayward states to an all out assault on the institution of slavery, more and more Northerners balked at the idea of dying to set niggers free; men who had fought for years to bring the rebels into the fold again threw down their rifles and went home in disgust after they heard of the Emancipation Proclamation. And as it became clearer that poor whites who never owned slaves were expected to die for plantation owners’ right to stay rich, fewer and fewer Southerners were willing to jump into the meat grinder feet first; many of them
deserted to go home and form Unionist bushwhacker gangs instead. Speaking of the draft, a higher percentage of southerners dodged the Confederate draft than in Vietnam, yet Vietnam is remembered as a deeply unpopular war while the Lost Cause has painted the South as a unified bloc striving as one against the Yankee oppressor.
Also, the Confederacy had a draft imposed upon the states by its federal government. So, yeah, State's Rights. Tell me how that worked out.
To reiterate. Both sides are not the same. We are rooting for the Union. Slavery. Etc.
The two armies surged northward, on parallel tracks with Lee on the west side of the Appalachians and Meade on the east side. Being critically low on recon drones and spy satellites, the only ways to find the enemy army was to send guys out on horseback to physically look at them before riding back, and to talk to locals whether they’d seen anyone wearing the other team’s uniform recently. Clouds of skirmishers, cavalrymen, and small detachments of infantrymen from either side scattered themselves in all directions, straining to catch a glimpse of the other army. The first side to locate the enemy, amass sufficient force, and maneuver against them would probably win, without regard for right or wrong.
———————————————————————— JULY 1st, 1863 Early Morning
General John Buford had a 2,500 strong brigade of cavalrymen patrolling southern Pennsylvania, being one of dozens of detachments sent out to find the enemy army. Using human intelligence from locals in Gettysburg, he learned that there was a column of rebel infantry marching down the Chambersburg Pike.
And indeed there was. Advance scouts from Buford’s brigade made visual contact with a column marching south towards Gettysburg. The ball was now rolling.
The story goes that the Confederates were looking for new shoes and heard that there was a stockpile in Gettysburg. As far as I can tell, this is a baseless legend- inspired by the true fact that the rebel army didn’t have enough shoes, but baseless nonetheless. The three Confederate commanders marching towards Gettysburg (Archer and Davis with a brigade apiece and Heth as division commander coordinating them), were simply doing what their counterpart was doing- reconnaissance in force, hoping to develop a lead for the rest of the army to follow. 7,000 infantry under Archer and Davis were about to pick a fight with 2,500 cavalrymen under Buford. The currents of this morning fight would provide the grooves for the next three days to follow.
Buford’s men fought as dragoons; the horse let you scoot around to where you need to go, but you got off it and fought on foot. They Union cavalry broke into tiny little four man teams to bloody the approaching Confederates’ noses. The terrain was a bushwhacker’s paradise- plenty of rocks and trees to hide behind, and plenty of low, rolling hills to speed off behind to break line of sight. One man would hold the horses while the other three crouch-ran forward under cover to pop off rounds into the enemy column from the sides of the road. When the enemy infantry redeployed from a fast moving but harmless column formation into a slow moving but dangerous line, the three shooters would run back to their buddy to mount up and retreat to a new position.
The cavalrymen were outnumbered nearly three to one, and their carbines had less range and power than the rebel rifles; then again, the terrain was working for them and their breechloading carbines could shoot much faster than the enemy’s muzzleloading long rifles. It was very close to being an fair fight, as long as the cavalry could stay mobile and keep their distance.
Buford and Heth both had unclear, contradictory orders- “Push forward aggressively to locate the enemy, but do not enter into a general engagement until we know what we’re up against.” It was an order that must have made sense in the tent when Lee and Meade sent their own versions off. You wouldn’t want to force a battle until you knew the enemy’s location and disposition and the terrain you were going to be standing on, any more than you’d want bet it all on a poker hand before looking at your cards. But to the guys on the front line, it meant “charge forward, but do not charge forward. Attack, but do not engage. Show some initiative, but don’t pick a real fight.” Heth decided they were up against a skeleton crew of skirmishers, and he had orders to check out Gettysburg. He send riders back with a quick report and a request for reinforcements. Buford decided that if the whole damn rebel army was heading his way, he needed to delay their advance for as many hours as he could to give the rest of the Union army time to get to Gettysburg- the high ground south of the town looked like ideal terrain to fight from and he wanted his buddies to get there before the rebels. He too sent riders back with calls for help.
And meanwhile, the murderous, hazardous stalking of the rebel column continued as it trudged towards Gettysburg. Meanwhile, in the Rear with the Gear
Imagine running a marathon- 26 miles and a bit from start to finish. That’s how spread out a Civil War army is, from vanguard to rear guard. You can’t really concentrate 75,000-100,000 people together that closely. Disease starts killing people off really fast, feeding everyone is a headache, and if you have to march out, the lead element will march all day before stopping for the night, while the rear element hasn’t even left camp yet. It’s unwieldy. So they all spread out to grab some real estate and forage easier and not choke on each others’ dust and crap.
The riders from the Chambersburg Pike were spreading the word through the marathon length of the armies. Units were halting, turning around. Captains and colonels and generals were consulting maps to figure out what roads to take to get south or north to Gettysburg from where they were now. Regiments were putting their heads to together to figure out whose company oughtta go in what order.
The movements were slow and and ungainly and awkward, but they were starting up. Mid Morning to Noon
The rolling hills on either side of the Chambersburg Pike stopped at McPherson’s Ridge, a grand place to make a stand- plenty of cover, steep incline. In any case, there wasn’t much further to retreat to. Archer and David pushed the cavalrymen, Archer on the south side of the road and Davis on the north. Thoroughly annoyed infantrymen backed up on the Pike behind them, eager to get at the enemy but without frontage to occupy. Buford dug in on McPherson’s Ridge, and the full force of Heth’s division slammed into him.
Denied their mobility by the necessity of holding territory, the fair fight turned into a meat grinder for the dismounted cavalrymen. When Confederate artillery set up on Herr’s Ridge, it turned into a bloodbath.
Buford, at last, got in contact with somebody who outranked him. General John Reynolds, second in command of the whole Union army, rode ahead of his division to get eyes on the situation.
The two struck a deal in the middle of a firefight. Buford promised to hold to the last man, and Reynolds promised to reinforce him. It was an exercise in trust; if Buford’s men held firm and Reynolds let them down, they’d be swamped and slaughtered to a man, and if Buford’s detachment broke and scattered, Reynolds’ reinforcements would march directly into a line of hills held by an entrenched enemy force of equal size. Failure on either side would be fatal. Reynolds rode south again, leaving Buford and his dwindling cavalrymen to fend off 10% of the Confederate army all alone.
Meanwhile, Buford’s thin line was cracking. Outnumbered, outgunned, and unable to advance or retreat... That which was inevitable to start with was happening now. Davis’ brigade was pressing against Oak Ridge on the Union right, and Archer's was taking Herbst Woods tree by tree. Buford’s men were giving ground they couldn’t afford to lose. Confederate artillery was blasting giant holes in the ranks of the defenders. That’s when the relief came- two fresh brigades of infantry coming up the Emmitsburg road, under generals Cutler and Meredith.
Cutler got there first, taking up positions on Oak Ridge and straddling either side of the Pike with cannons. Their massive volleys disrupted Confederate momentum and silenced some of the rebels’ big guns as everyone scrambled for cover. Grateful and exhausted cavalrymen sidled off to the flanks to safety. Meredith’s brigade is still lagging behind- that’s the problem with columns, only the guys in front can do anything.
If Buford and Reynolds expected everything to be right in the world once reinforcements arrived, they were very much mistaken. Those men out there attacking up Oak Ridge were some of the finest infantrymen in the world- dedicated, disciplined, contemptuous of death. They did not stop being efficient killers just because they now fought peers instead of the hornet-like cavalry skirmishers. Cutler’s brigade was facing a small tidal wave of battle-maddened Southern veterans, and had no time to dig in and situate themselves before the moment of impact. Davis’ men ripped into them like a pack of starving wolves. Cutler’s men fell back to safety on the top of Oak Ridge. In pieces.
Meanwhile, Meredith’s brigade was finally in position to retake Herbst Woods on the south side of the road.
Now, Meredith’s brigade were the absolute elite of the Union army. They were the grizzled veterans, the old crew, the best drilled, the most experienced, the hardest of the hard. They were nicknamed the Iron Brigade, and the Black Hat Brigade, because they were authorized to wear dashing black foraging caps to signify their status as the best of the best. With their comrades north of the road falling back, it was imperative that the Black Hat Brigade protect their left flank. To which end, Reynolds frantically snapped orders for them to line up and charge Archer’s men who were occupying Herbst Wood.
Their charge was met by a storm of musket fire that churned the Iron ranks into blood and guts. But this was the Black Hat Brigade. For them, taking ten percent casualties in a single minute was just another Tuesday. They got in close to the rebel line to return the volleys with a vengeance, and then charged with the bayonet. Archer’s men saw the distinctive black hats come for them through the musket-smoke. For the first time, they realized that these were no mere cavalry skirmishers, no half-assed militia company facing them. The best of the best of the Army of the Potomac was coming at them at terrifyingly close range. Archer’s men cracked and scattered. The ones who stood firm, died. The ones who threw down their rifles and grabbed sky were allowed to live as prisoners. The ones who ran, lived, but found the Iron Brigade hot on their heels. Meredith’s elites carved through Archer’s brigade like it wasn’t even there.
Reynolds was a good leader. A great one, in fact. He was decisive, experienced, competent. Many thought he should have gotten command instead of Meade. As his men retook Herbst Wood, he turned behind him to check on how close reinforcements were, some rebel rifleman did his cause a world of good, and shot Reynolds in the back of the head. Now the situation got pretty weird- Davis’ brigade had kicked the shit out of Cutler’s brigade and was pursuing them on the north side of the road, and the Iron Brigade had kicked the shit out of Archer’s brigade and was pursuing them on the south side of the road. Neither victor was aware of what had happened across from them, and soon enough they would pass each other by almost touching the edges of their lines. The first one to figure out what was happening would get to win.
As it so happened, General Doubleday (in command now that Reynolds was dead) saw the danger and the opportunity first. He broke off an Iron regiment from his reserve to swoop in and protect the flank just in time, setting them up in a defensive stance facing the road. That regiment was joined by another broken off from the Iron assault, and yet another from Cutler’s brigade, who had seen the maneuvering and joined in on its own initiative. It was like a ballet, all three regiments coalescing into a single front facing north across the road, as though they’d spent the last week rehearsing. Under their protection, the rest of the Black Hats gave chase to their prey.
When Davis finally turned and attacked, they were chopped down by a mass of highly accurate fire from the newly entrenched men. Confederates died by the dozens and were maimed by the score. As they reloaded, the Black Hats were astonished to find that the whole Confederate brigade vanish into thin air, like magic. The firing stopped; no more targets. It was bizarre.
The three regiments advanced cautiously. And were gutted by a close range surprise volley by the hidden Confederates as they tried to scale the fences on either side of the Pike.
It turns out that there was a cut in the side of road, deep enough for a man to jump down into with only his head able to peek out. Davis’ men had leapt into it as a source cover when the firefight started and found it was a grand place to shoot out of. But it was also a death trap. Once the Union regiments figured it out, they got in close enough to fire blindly down at point blank range into the milling mass of men. Davis’ men surrendered, thousands of them all at once. Unable to move, unable shoot back, it was really the only choice.
And with that, the first round of Gettysburg was over. Oak Ridge and Herbst Wood had held, and about 150,000 odd soldiers were converging on Gettysburg to shift the tide of war this way and that. AFTERNOON
The rest of the first day was not free of drama, and heroics, and mass suffering. But it was free of surprises. The iron laws of physics had decreed that more Confederate units would be on hand for the fighting in the afternoon, and so it was. Fresh rebel troops swept down from the north and from the west, relieving their exhausted comrades and preparing themselves to assault Oak Ridge and Herbst Woods. Fresh Union troops arrived from the south to reinforce what they had and to extend their line out east, protecting their right flank and screening off the town itself.
Hours passed without a shot being fired. Everybody was reorganizing themselves, resupplying, carting the wounded to the rear to let the surgeons saw their shattered limbs off. Two small things happened that delivered a Confederate victory on day one, and a Union victory on day three. Union General Barlow pushed his brigade out to occupy Blocher's hill, and Union General Steinwehr plopped two of his brigades on top of Cemetery Hill. The first created a huge gap in the Union right, and the second secured the invaluable high ground for the rest of the battle.
Meanwhile, three Confederate divisions set themselves up for a concerted attack- Heth would press into Herbst Wood on the Union left, Rodes would assault Oak Ridge at the center, and Early would swoop down the Harrisburg road to threaten the Union right. When the big push came at around 2 p.m.
, it was badly organized and mismanaged. Southern commanders couldn't get it together and attack at the same time. Individual units charged at Oak Ridge alone, like a mob of Hollywood henchmen attacking the hero only to be smacked around one by one. Cutler's men didn't just fight them off; it was closer to mass murder. General O'Neal's brigade swooped down off of Oak Hill only to be cut down by musketry and cannon fire, and they did it without O'Neal, because O'Neal stayed in the rear while his men died. When O'Neal's brigade fell back having suffered heavy losses, Cutler shifted his men to greet the new threat from Iverson's brigade, who also charged without their commander. Iverson's men marched in parade perfect order across open ground, without so much as a molehill for cover. The story goes that during the assault, Iverson looked out from safety and saw half his men lying down on the ground. Iverson was pissed off because he thought his men were surrendering. In fact, he was watching his brigade die in droves.
The issue wasn't morale. The Confederate troops were eager to get at the enemy. The problem was purely organizational in nature. The men in charge of telling people what to do were simply too confused and disoriented to work out the solution in real time. While O’Neal and Iverson were getting bloodied, Barlow’s men on Blocher Hill were getting slaughtered. Barlow’s desire to hold the high ground on the defense was understandable- high ground being a grand place to fight from- but he was about one mile ahead of any friendly units. This meant that it was trivially easy to flank and destroy his brigades.
Georgia men under generals Early and Rodes linked up to flank and destroy Barlow’s isolated brigades. A thick stream of filthy, bloody, and terrified Union men flowed back to the town of Gettysburg, leaving a gaping hole in the Union line and spreading their panic like the plague. Victorious Confederates whooped and hollered. As the men to the north of town trade massacres- the failed assault on Oak Ridge being roughly balanced by the disastrous dissolution of Barlow’s brigades- Heth finally attacked the Iron Brigade still occupying Herbst Wood in the west. He’d been delaying it all afternoon, stymied by the contradictory orders from Lee. Lee, who was several miles away and not at all in touch with the situation, still wanted to avoid a general engagement. But now, Heth has been let off the chain to avenge Archer’s brigade.
Heth’s full division attacked Herbst Wood. It was a slow, hot, gory fight. The attacking rebels are aggressive, but also methodical and well-organized. The Black Hats made them pay for every tree they seized. But there’s only one outcome for a fight like this.
The Iron Brigade has the ghastly honor of having the highest casualty ratio of any Civil War brigade, North or South. Out of the 1,885 men in their ranks that morning, 1,153 (61%) were be dead or maimed by nightfall on the first day. The fates of individual units from within the brigade are even more gruesome- in the 2nd Wisconsin regiment, 397 out of 496 (80%) were killed or wounded. But despite the horrific losses, they didn’t break. They gave ground slowly and in good order, but they gave ground nonetheless. Iron does not break, but it does bend. By late afternoon, the dominoes fell as they were always going to.
With the debacle at Blocher’s Knoll, any hope the Union had to hold the right was lost. The Black Hats were being ground into sawdust on the left. And Rodes has finally gotten his brigades to charge at the same time, overwhelming Cutler’s defense.
Every Union man was running now, some in a blind panic, some withdrawing in good order like professionals.
The open field battle turned into urban warfare as the Confederates chased the Union army through the streets of Gettysburg. Companies blocked the streets to hold off the enemy advance long enough for the comrades to scamper. Marksmen played sniper games in the windows, either shooting men in the back as they ran away or ambushing overly aggressive platoons, depending on the color of their uniform.
The Union men were desperate to reach Cemetery Hill, south of the town. High ground and the reinforcements already stationed there promised safety. The Confederates were just as desperate to catch them first and seize that invaluable terrain for themselves. Nightfall
A great deal of “woulda coulda shoulda” ink has been spilled over the orders that Lee gave to General Ewell, the man in charge of Rodes and Early: “Take Cemetery Hill if practical”. But Ewell saw two brigades with a lot
of artillery standing on top of what appeared to be a natural fortress designed by God to repel infantry, and his men were exhausted to boot. Ewell decided it was not practical, and so did not try. Just one of those things, I expect.
In any case, the day was a Confederate victory. Every spot on the map the Confederate troops wanted to go, they had went. They had crushed all resistance, had even gone toe to toe with the cream of the Army of the Potomac and won. Their enemies were in flight before them.
There was, possibly, a certain amount of disquiet because the enemy had merely been driven from one ridge into another ridge, one even steeper and with more cover than the last. And rumor had it the rest of the Army of the Potomac was coming at them.
But that was a problem for the next day.
PSA: You Don’t Have to be in a Trade 100% of the Time
I see some of you constantly asking “What’s the play?!” or spamming “Diamond Hands” and while yes WSB essentially treats the market like a casino, you don’t have to be in a trade 100% of the time or let bad bets ride. submitted by fbi-office to wallstreetbets [link] [comments]
If you were to go to Vegas, you wouldn’t be gambling 100% of the time. You take breaks. You are almost never going to sit at the tables and gamble 100% of the time. Why? It’s exhausting.
If you’re anything like me, you circle and eye the right table, striking when the opportunity feels right. Or also like me and play poker, you play the right hands and fold the ones that aren’t working out. Still gambling, but strategic.
If the table sucks, you leave or change tables, take a break, cool off, etc. Many of you are getting far too emotionally married to your positions or your bias, and it will hurt you in the end. Look at what happened to bears who held on past the March lows.
This market isn’t going anywhere. It’s an election year and there will be volatility til 2021. Take a deep breath, it’s not going anywhere.
Point of the message is this: don’t rush into trades because you are anxious to constantly be in a trade. Play it more like poker, waiting for the right opportunities to play, and take breaks.. it’s mentally and financially exhausting always being in a trade (options specifically).
I say this to hopefully prevent someone from mistakenly ruining their account and becoming suicidal/depressed. Or even just letting trading take over their life. It’s okay to take breaks.
Ulmeroa Hold 'Em - a polyhedral poker minigame
submitted by hardcourt to DnDBehindTheScreen [link] [comments]
I DM a game set in a homebrew wild west setting, and naturally I needed a way to approximate poker with dice. I whipped up a quick, simplified rip off of Texas Hold 'Em using the d12, d8, and d4. It seemed to work out well, and I was encouraged to share it by one of my players.
The rules and betting are pretty much lifted directly from Texas Hold 'Em, but you could use any of the variations on betting you see in cards. But here's what I did:
- You set a minimum bet (let's say 2 gp for this example).
- Each player rolls a d12 and keeps it a secret (this is their "hole card").
- The first two players to the left of the Dealer are forced to bet; starting with the Little Blind, who makes half of the minimum bet (1gp), and then the Big Blind, who makes the minimum bet (2gp).
- Then go around the rest of the table. The remaining players, consulting their hole card (d12), may choose to match the bet, raise (in increments of 2gp) or fold. Once all the players have either matched any raises or folded, the opening betting round is done.
- The Dealer rolls a d8 (this is "the flop"). This is for all to see.
- Another round of betting ensues for the players who haven't folded, without the opening forced bets for the two Blinds. Go around until all players have matched any raises or folded.
- The Dealer rolls a d4 (this is "the river"). This is for all to see.
- A final round of betting.
- "Hole cards" of all remaining players are revealed, and are used to form hands with the two dice on the table. The highest ranking hand wins the whole pot. Hands are ranked like so (with the rolls represented d12-d8-d4 in order):
- Royals - a combination of 12-8-4
- Three of a Kind - a combination of three matching dice (1's, 2's, 3's, or 4's)
- Straight - a combination of three dice in sequence (e.g. 1-2-3, 5-3-4)
- Third Wheel - if your d12 is equal to the sum of the d8 and the d4 (e.g. 9-7-2, 8-4-4, 4-1-3. Note that a 3-2-1 or 3-1-2 are actually higher scoring Straights, and a 12-8-4 is the higher scoring Royals)
- Pair - if your d12 matches one of either the d8 or d4
- High Card - if you fail to form any hands, your d12 is played as a high card.
- Ties: if players form hands of the same rank, the highest d12 "hole card" is the tie breaker. If players form the exact same hand, they split the pot. If the pot can't be split perfectly even, the remainder is tipped to the dealer.
I did some math (badly), and determined the relative strength of your d12 roll before you see "the flop," which is, in order: 3, 2, 4, 1, 5, 6, 8, 7, 12, 9, 10, 11. Somebody who is better at math should chime in and correct me if I'm wrong. After the flop it gets more complicated to determine relative strength of your hand- you have to figure in how the other players are betting, what hole cards the flop might interact with, and how those potential hands rank against your hand.
Let me know if you see any ways to improve the game without complicating it too much. Otherwise, have fun with it at your table and tell us how it goes.
I Raise You One Ruckle.
submitted by Disgruntled_Veteran to MilitaryStories [link] [comments]
We have all seen those cool poker game scenes where Daniel Craig, Paul Newman, or Matt Damon plays cards like a master and wins the game with an amazing hand. This story does not have anything like that. Ruckle plays poker with the grace and skill of a brain damaged monkey f***ing a football.
So back in the day, a number of us had a monthly poker game. It was scheduled around the third of each month so everyone would have some money since we all just got paid. This game had been going on for years before I ever got posted there. It was damn near an institution. There were two to three tables set up in the common area. If it was nice out, then we’d set up outside and some of the guys would smoke cigars. We had 6 simple rules:
- The buy in was $50. No buying back in if you go bust.
- You had to play for at least an hour before you cashed out.
- No IOUs.
- No B****ing if you loose.
- No being a d*** if you win.
- Bring your own booze.
So we had about 20 to 25 guys who would regularly rotate into the games. Most of the time we’d all chip in a few bucks and order some pizza. It was generally just some fun for everyone. We had a few people that took their poker very seriously, but most of us just liked playing cards and BSing.
So one night we are setting up and Ruckle asks to join in. I wasn’t there yet or I would have voted f*** no. However they said yes with the hopes of taking his cash. They explained the rules to him and let him know it was a cash game. He agreed to the terms. By time I show up everyone is ready to start. I ended up at F***in’ Ruckle table. I wish I hadn’t.
Now I am no poker master. On a good night I am about average. However, even I knew that Ruckle sucked horribly at poker. Of course, Ruckle being Ruckle, said he was a master Poker player and would wipe the floor with us. In the first had, Ruckle bets $30 on what he thought was a Flush. Three diamonds and two hearts. He ended up with a pair of 3’s. How he thought you could have a flush with two 3’s is beyond me.
Ruckle has no poker face. When he thinks he has a good hand his face lights up like a virgin in a whore house. So he plays maybe four more hands before he is wiped out. After each hand he b****es about loosing and how he’d have won if he had gotten a certain card. Once he is out of chips, the unrequested entertainment started.
Ruckle: Fuck! I’m out of money. Hey can someone loan me some chips?
Everyone in turn: Nope.
Ruckle: Come on. Someone loan me $20. I’m good for it.
Ruckle: Ok. Fine. Can I get my $50 back now?
Everyone is looking at him as though he just asked if any of us wanted a bj from him. There is a general look of stun on our faces.
Me: This is a cash game. You can cash in your chips in the end and get what their worth in cash, but your busted.
Ruckle: So when do I get my money back?
Me: You don’t. You lost it all.
Ruckle: This is bulls***! I want my money back.
May: What part of “you lost” don’t you get? You lost all you chips. That means you lost all of your money.
Ruckle: I. Want. My. Money. Back.
May: Not. Going. To. Happen. Dumba**.
Me: To quote Kenny Rogers, never leave a man busted.
I threw him a $1 chip.
Me: Here you go.
Ruckle (throwing the chip back): Fuck you.
Me: Ok. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you though.
May (Whispering to me): You might catch something if he did bite you.
Ruckle: What did you say?
May: I said you need to stop b****ing like a queen on her period and get the f*** out of here. Your ruining Poker Night.
Everyone grumbling a version of: Yeah go on. leave.
Ruckle: How do I know no one cheated. I think I got hustled.
May: First of all, this is a fun game. Or at least it was until you joined us. Secondly, you said you were a poker master. How could we hustle a hustler?
Ruckle: Why the fuck do you keep peoples money. Gambling is illegal.
Hightower: Ruckle, if gambling is illegal then you were just committing a crime. Shut the f*** up and leave.
Ruckle: I have a date tonight. I need that money.
May (whispers): We may have just saved a girl from getting herpies.
May: Tough s***. Just leave. No one wants you here and you are not welcome back.
Everyone seconded Mays words and Ruckle storms off b****ing the entire way about how he was cheated. He never asked to join us again and we never asked him to play. I hate sore winners and sore losers, but I think I hate b****ing Ruckles more.
So you can decide which story is next. I can post either Ruckle and an angry husband or Ruckle and the Lt.'s wife.
Microstakes-River fold too Nitty?
Wanted to see what some people thought of this hand. For the record Villain is complete unknown and I am a newer player to poker but have had a good winrate at .05-.1 and .1-.25 for the last few months submitted by KarmicFiend231 to poker [link] [comments]
Stacks .05-.1 Microstakes Hand
Hero (BB) (140 BB)
Villain (BTN) (~200 BB)
PF: Folds to Villain on the BTN, Open Raises to .28
SB Folds, Action to Hero with AsJh
Hero 3 Bets to $1.21, Villain calls
Flop: 6c 6s Ah
Hero checks and Villain checks back
Turn: 6c 6s Ah Kh
Hero bets .61 and Villain calls
River: 6c 6s Ah Kh Td
Hero checks and Villain bets $2.76
Pot Odds on River call: $6.27/2.76= ~31% or ~2.3/1 odds
My thinking on the outset of this hand is without any HUD info or knowing the player, is that when he calls my large 3 Bet from OOP on the BTN that his range is mostly 55's-T's, maybe sometimes a AQo AKo or AJo/s (because of the larger sizing, yes have seen players at this stake cold call 3 Bets with all of these hands for larger 3 bets though AK not as much as AQ or AJ) and at the tippy top every now and then JJ or QQ, as well as more marginal hands like KJs/KQo or ATs/ATo/KTo/KTs or QTs/JTo etc; with suited connectors (and maybe some offsuit from a BTN open at this stake) like 87c and 98h being towards the bottom of that range. I chose $1.20 because with Ax unsuited hands OOP at low stakes I like to keep pots smaller if possible so I'm either folding these hands if there are re-raises or multiple limpers or 3 Betting at least 3.5x to get heads up or win uncontested.
I think checking flop was a mistake because I can certainly get value from that pocket pair parts of his range on the flop as well as strong suited hands that may have backdoors with one of the suits on the flop, but my thinking at the time was he had all the 6x's in his range and that worse like KJo or KQo may not call, so I wanted to give those hands a chance to barrel or if he has trips then I'm at least calling one street and evaluating a turn. I think at this stake slow playing OOP is dumb 90% of the time though and this probably doesn't fall into the 10%.
Anyways, on the turn I figured the Kh hits my range nicely and gives part of his range some value to call with random Kx's or draws like QTh or even random hearts will now call a turn bet. I lead and he calls which to me signals either a pocket pair floating the turn, a draw, a slow played trips, (less likely given check back on flop and call on turn because trips would likely raise with second h coming on board), or a pair (If Ax likely lower than mine, or some Kx hands). I don't love my turn sizing, I think I could certainly size up a bit especially with the flop check, this could make weaker Ax or Kx much more likely to call a slightly larger sizing IMO. Pocket pairs are likely calling at least in the .7-1.3 range, Ax is likely calling the same size or maybe even half-2/3 pot sized bet (though a small percentage of the time I'm chopping or value owning myself with that logic), and most medium/strong draws are likely continuing for the same range of price (though maybe .61 is effective if Villain is fish and you want to keep random hearts in). I do think checking again is likely a mistake though because I think I many times am missing a lot of value, so I think betting was correct but sizing wise I maybe would have preferred the range I mentioned, but I'd love to hear what you guys think.
On the river I checked because I think the Td while it bricks the heart draw out, is a great card for my opponents range and I'm OOP. I checked because 1. I Have showdown against a decent amount of his range 's and 2. I think it's unlikely with the T that a pocket pair say (77,88,99,55,44) are calling a river bet unless I size to maybe .5 but even then I'm not sure. 3. He has very little bluffs on the river if he decides to bet somewhat large IMO, I think most of his random Ax (which is an argument for betting small here and evaluating raises here for sure) and Kx would check back, but I also don't think they call a bet except stronger Ax's if I choose a very small sizing (I really don't think unless Villain is fishy that he calls with anything lower than A9,A8, A7 because 6's on board makes it a chop for him if I have an A as well or He'll be value owned by A10-AK which are all in my range), thus these are the only Ax in his range we can target for value . He bets roughly 80% on the river. I think the vast majority of his pocket pairs check back River because they have showdown and I could have some missed draws in my range and the board favors my range rather heavily. So was I wrong to fold? to me the River bet just really feels like QJs/o, KTs/o, ATs/o, TT, random slow played 6x, or AQs/o and a possible rare AKo/s with the turn call instead of raise to keep my Ax in, draws, and if he was scared I had a 6x. I think his bluffs are mainly comprised of pocket pairs trying to steal the pot (again I personally think they mostly check back so I'd put this as lower probability just from personal experience at lower stakes but I could be wrong), missed draws with either a Th, Qh, Jh, or hands like QTo/s, JTo/s, or Kx with a H overvaluing/trying to bluff an A off the pot, and I don't think most players at this stake are thinking that deep/aren't that much of thinking players. Honestly without bias I truly think on this exact texture and at this stake 70-90% of Kx hands will check back the river here, besides maybe Kx with a Q/J, or other heart blockers.
Essentially, I felt the bet sizing and the exact texture of the board+the line he took indicated to me that his range consisted of much more value (most of which is beating me) hands than potential bluffs/hands that have marginal value that I beat for that exact sizing. Would love to hear some feedback on whether this is a really nitty and shitty fold or whether my logic makes sense for the lay down, as well as any comments on my analysis of PF and Post flop play. I know I'm new and probably seem dogshit to many of you and no offense will be taken so don't hold back :)
Ruckle's Pickup Technique
Sorry it took me a bit to write this up. Its been a Hell of a few weeks. But everything is back in order...ish. submitted by Disgruntled_Veteran to MilitaryStories [link] [comments]
So there were women who had sex with Ruckle. Why, I don’t know, but he was successful at getting laid. He never actually dated anyone. he just had sex with them and moved on. Some people have asked me how he got laid so much. Well, Ruckle had a technique to get these women to go out with him that I saw in action twice. My understanding is that this was his only technique.
The first time I witnessed his "moves" was at a diner style restaurant that was part of a national chain of restaurants. We will call this place Lenny’s. So after a night of consuming “water alternatives” at one of the local bars, several of us decided to get something to eat before going back to post. I was the DD for the night. We had been there maybe ten minutes and had already ordered our food from the waitress when Ruckle and two of his cronies came in. Now Ruckle had maybe two friends at any given time. Chipmunk was one and the other would vary depending on what newbie thought Ruckle was "cool" until they learned the truth. So this night Ruckle, Chipmunk, and a third person (I don’t remember who) sat down at a table next to ours and started chatting with us.
I wasn’t very talkative that night as I did not care for Ruckle and I was very hungry after a night of “alternative hydration” and dancing. Maybe ten minutes after Ruckle arrived he started to try to get a lady to go home with him. There were three or four other tables with people in them in that Lenny's that night, but only two of them had women at them. One had four ladies in their late teens/early twenties while the other had two ladies who were maybe in their late twenties/early thirties. There were also two waitresses working. One was in her mid thirties and the other was easily in her fifties. Both of the waitresses had wedding bands. This is important later.
So Ruckle started to make his move on the first table that had four young ladies. He walked over with a confident stride and this was how the conversation went:
Ruckle: Hi. I’m Justin. I’m in the Army with those guys (points to our tables.). I saw you from across the room and I just had to say hi. You are all so gorgeous.
All the Girls: Hi. Thank you.
Ruckle to Girl #1: Wow! You’re beautiful. Would you like to go out sometime?
Girl #1 (Looking shocked at the suddenness): Um. No, thank you.
Ruckle immediately to Girl #2: Wow! Your eyes are beautiful. Would you like to go out to dinner sometime?
Girl #2: No.
Ruckle to Girl #3: I like your smile. What to go out for coffee sometime?
Girl #3 (Looking shocked at how quickly he was moving from girl to girl): I don’t think so.
The other girls are starting to laugh at the stupidity of what was going on there.
Ruckle to Girl #4: Wow! You look hot in that dress. Would you like to come back to the barracks for a night cap?
Girl #4: Would you please leave us alone. We are trying to have a good time
Ruckle to all the girls: I can show all of you a good time. We can all......
Girl #1: Go away.
So Ruckle raises both his hands in a surrender style way and moves over to the two ladies at the other table. He smiles and says:
Ruckle: Hello ladies. I saw you from across the room and had to come over here to say hi. I’m Justin. I’m in the Army with those guys (Again, points at us). I think you look great tonight.
Ruckle to Woman #1: Wow! you are beautiful. Would you like to go out for dinner tomorrow night?
Woman #1: What? No. Can you leave us alone please?
Ruckle to Woman #2: Hi. I’m a soldier and would love to take you back to my place for a few drinks. I can take you on a tour and you can see my medals.
Woman #2: Are you deaf? Leave us alone.
Ruckle to both women: Hey, it's your loss. Are you sure you wouldn't like to join me and my friends?
The women ignore him. Ruckle returns to our table and acts like nothing happened. Someone (not sure who) asked him why he struck out. Ruckle says that he wasn’t really trying and that he was only showing Chipmunk how to talk to women. According to him, he could have any of them he wants whenever he wants. Someone, not sure who, bet him $20 that he couldn’t get the younger waitress. Ruckle says that it is too easy.
So Ruckle struts over to the counter, near where the pies are kept, and starts talking to the waitress.
Waitress: Hi. Can I get you something?
Ruckle: Your phone number would be great.
Waitress (fake, awkward laughing): I’m flattered, but I’m married.
She holds up her left hand with the wedding ring on it.
Ruckle: Your husband doesn’t have to know. I’m a soldier. I bet your husband isn’t a soldier. We could go out and have some fun. Maybe diner, a move, or a few drinks.
Waitress: No, he isn’t in the Army, but I’m happily married and I have a child. Thank you though.
Ruckle: I could take you out to dinner and he wouldn’t have to know. Just tell him you are going to work and then take the night off. We can go clubbing. Afterwards I'll even rub your feet if they hurt.
Waitress (more loudly): I am married and I have a kid. I am not interested. Would you please leave me alone?
At this point, a heavy set man, who I believe was the manager, starts to walk up to the waitress. He whispers in her ear and she heads towards the kitchen. At this, Ruckle leaves and heads back to the table. When asked for the $20 he lost, Ruckle says that he never accepted the bet so he doesn't have to pay. My group goes back to eating our food and try to ignore Ruckle's explanation of why he struck out to his two pals.
So a few months later, Ruckle is at the Enlisted Club on post and I watch him try the same technique on women there. He moves from table to table and all around the dance floor hitting on every woman in sight. Eventually, after maybe twelve or fifteen women, he got one to dance with him. To the best of my knowledge, the secret to Ruckle’s success was that he systematically goes to every woman and asked them out. If shot down he moves to the very next woman like the last rejection never happened.
So for the next story I can post the story of how Chipmunk got his name or the poker game story.
I want to share a lesson I learned 13 years ago...
A buddy of mine told me one of those "What do you think I did wrong?" stories a few minutes ago, and he did something I see too often, and I don't understand. In fact, when I say I "learned" this lesson, really it was more a reminder of something I would have thought was obvious. submitted by Elastoid to poker [link] [comments]
So it's 2007 and I've only been playing casino poker for a little over a year. I'm playing a $1/2 game when I see this kid with a nosering, about as young as I was buy in for the table max of $500 and start betting aggressively just about every hand. Every hand he's in, he's the aggressor, and his bets are all 3/4 pot or more. At one point he overbet-jams an A-K-8 flop into two opponents, gets called, and beats his opponent's AJ with his K4 when a four hits on the river. So he's an idiot, but a rich idiot at this point, with a little over $1100 in front of him.
Now, I, myself, was at the tail end of the night and had been about ready to pack it in before this maniac arrived. I'd bought in for $400, turned that into $1800 over the course of 7 hours, and then turned that back down into $1400 in the last two. I was tired and ready to leave but Nosering sits down and he's got $1100 he's going to try to give away. I want it, so I stick around. I figure I'll wait for a strong hand and let him do the betting for me. He seems to see someone check/calling as some sort of insult that can only be met with substantial bets. If I have so much as top pair, he'll give me his whole stack voluntarily.
Nosering's style does not change. He bets and bets. He doesn't bet with nothing, but it seems he'll go just as far with middle pair as with top set, and doesn't care about how many are in the pot. He's already dropped to about $950 when I find J-J on the button. Under the gun, he raises to $25 and gets two callers before it comes to me.
Now, I played this hand bad. BAD. Not just bad by today's standards, but bad by 2007 standards as well. Just want to make it clear -- I misplayed every street, and I know that.
But yeah, I've seen him fold in situations where he can either fold or call, but if it's his action, he wants to raise. So I figure I'll raise something that will entice a reraise. I make it $125, pretty much asking for action. This was a bad play for lots of reasons, but what happened is a big one -- the big blind called, Nosering flat calls, and another player calls. Now I'm in a $500 pot, four-way with pocket jacks. I pretty much have to fold guaranteed if I see an A, K or Q. This sucks.
Flop comes 9-8-2 with two diamonds, which is about as good as I could expect. Big blind checks, Nosering bets $375. Pretty much what you'd expect. The other player calls his last $150, and I'm in a perfect spot to jam. I don't want to see a card above a jack come on the turn. Or a diamond, for that matter. I'm pretty sure I have the best hand (the whole table has been loose for a while, but especially so after Nosering came around), but that could change on the turn. Nosering's pretty much pot-committed now, having put in most of his stack already, and would likely call me, either way. Plus, he'll jam any turn card. So I just flat call him.
My reasoning here could have been that Nosering was putting all his money in, no matter what. I might as well see what the turn is before I decide to call. That would be wrong, especially with another player still to act, but the truth is, that wasn't my reasoning. My actual reason was much worse. I figured it was possible that he was in there with something stupid like 9-2, because he's played silly thus far. Or, he could actually have a set. Mostly, I was thinking like this -- if I call the $375 and lose, I'm down to $900. Still a profitable session. If I go all-in and lose, I'm down to $300 and now I'm in the red after 9 hours. That's a terrible way to think, but that's how I thought, so I called. Big blind folds so now we're three handed (with one all in), so action's heads up on the turn.
The turn comes an 8 of clubs, Nosering shoves his remaining $450, and I sit there and tank. The turn is about what I would hope for. Everything has happened exactly as I had predicted -- he bet aggressively every street, willingly offering his entire stack, and I'm holding better than top pair now, with an overpair to the board. More, I'm getting insanely good odds to call here -- $450 to win $1900. But what if he was sitting on A-8? Or 8-2? Or pocket nines? I just... can't do it. I fold.
When the river comes the Jack of hearts, I curse out loud. It doesn't matter, of course, but it twists the knife.
I'll never know what Nosering had. That's because the all-in player showed K-9 for two pair, 9's and 8's with a king kicker, and Nosering mucked his hand. I took my middling profits for the night -- I made $500, it felt like nothing -- and left. On that drive home, I cursed myself for continuing to play. I backed out because I was afraid of turning a "winning" session into a "losing" session, and if I'm going to think like that, I can't play well. I misplayed every street, I thought. If I look at Jacks and think "oh boy, I hope my whole stack goes in," then I'm an idiot. But more importantly, if I think that, then I shouldn't maneuver myself into massive a 4-way pot against who knows what?
But the biggest thing? The biggest, most obvious "lesson" that I learned? I made a prediction based on what I had seen. Then my prediction came true. Then I failed to act on that prediction.
When I called the $375, I knew -- I fucking knew -- that he was going to bet all-in on the turn. That means I wasn't making a decision for $375. I was making a decision for $825. I knew that if I called, he would put me all-in, so I better know what I'm going to do when he does. His bet represented no new information to me.
And that's the thing that I'm always so surprised to hear from people in stories. When I made this mistake, I was tired after a 9-hour grind, I wasn't emotionally ready to play, and I was young and stupid. Still, I instantly knew my biggest mistake, because it's obvious: If you expect your opponent to bet, and then he does, it shouldn't change your plan. "Have a plan if he raises you" is a good general rule for betting, but this is even worse than that, because it wasn't if he bets, as far as I was concerned. It was when he bets.
As far as I was concerned, his bets meant one thing, and one thing only -- that he was still breathing. His $375 bet on the flop was a big bet, but it was at a $500 pot. More importantly, I knew he would make big bets. Then he did. I set a game plan in place but I refused to follow it. Even 13 years later, it still stings. I still want that damned pot. Most people remember their worst beats, I guess I'm lucky that I'm more easily able to recall my worst plays.
My buddy's story reminded me of this, as do many of the stories you see here, sometimes. "I was against a loose-aggressive player whom I've seen three-barrel with nothing. I had top pair, top kicker, and decided to check/call and let him bet my hand for me. He bet the flop, I called, he bet the turn, I called, then he bet the river and I folded because I only had one pair. What did I do wrong?"
If you have a plan, and that plan involves your opponent betting, then don't change your plan because everything is going according to plan. Adjusting to new information is important, but if you expected the bet, and then it happened, then you have no new information. If you're going to fold the river, then save some money and fold before you get there.
Up 6 figures and then blow it at poker
Bored and was reading two plus two again and wanted to repost my black jack degen story. submitted by jazzy3113 to poker [link] [comments]
I got into poker like we all did, watching that fat clown moneymaker luck his way into $2 million on ESPN. Was never that good, would run up an initial deposit into thousands, move up stakes, move higher, then lose it all. I existed for awhile at 5/10 NL on FTP for a couple of years, but I remember taking a shot at 25/50 and losing to that drunk Layne Flack, or at least someone who was playing under this name. Looking back on it now, how those guys just stole from us, still bothers me to this day. And not one of them ever got arrested. I heard Ferguson even dared to show his face at the WSOP and not one person knocked his ass out. Anyway, I digress.
The point is I was a break-even player at best. Understood the stats, could even read people, but had no interest in playing if the stakes didn’t scare me. And we all know what happens when you continuously play over your head or with scared money.
Once Black Friday came, I got my occasional poker fix in AC. I started at the Trop, played a bunch at the Taj, but once I discovered Borgata I never went anywhere else. Over the years I had my mini degen moments, sitting at 5/10 NL with my last $800, spinning it up to $5k and then dumping at blackjack, etc.
By 2014, I would only go to AC once in awhile and only blow a few thousand I could afford. Until early that summer I got dumped by a girl I assumed I would marry. She was beautiful, came from the same background as me and was wealthy. I just figured this was finally it. As my wife now tells me, I was a clueless dick to her and deserved to get dumped, but at the time I was shattered. If anyone has been in love and has been dumped, you know the empty sorrow, the soul crushing despair, the feeling like what is the freaking point of even living anymore. I took those feelings with me back to the Borgata.
I would be itching all week till Friday, try to sneak out of work early, catch the greyhound and ride down to AC. Catch the shuttle or taxi to Borgata and start playing any game I could get into. This went on for some weeks. I was about break even, but break even to a degen is like losing to a normal person. I was getting ancy and poker was too slow a grind. So I remember taking some amount to the blackjack tables and losing it. I then remember thinking its only Friday night and I am not going back to my place and do nothing for the rest of the weekend. I decide to cash advance the max on my card. I think it was around $20k, or perhaps a little less after fees. You feel like such a degen when they fingerprint you on those advances.
Anyways, I somehow blow $20k at blackjack in under an hour. I have no idea how someone can do that. I remember being a mixture of angry, sad and disgusted. I do not want to go home and I know have lost the most amount of money at one sitting as I ever had. I think at that point my biggest one night loss was when I had bet a 2 game parlay for $8k. So this was a huge loss figure for me.
You know at the Borgata how there are the low limit blackjack tables in one area, and right behind there is this like raised dais of a room where the high limit tables are, and to the right of that is the “credit” office. Well I freaking walked in there and asked for a $20k marker. I was kind of hoping they would laugh at me and tell me to get lost. I have never been in there or knew how any of it worked. Sometimes I dream about that night and wish they had thrown me out or arrested me or just told me to eff off.
Instead this manager guy asked me to log into my bank accounts. I showed him my checking account, my investment account and my 401k account. Logged into them with passwords right on this random computer like a total degen. I had around $40k in checking, $150k in investment account and even more in 401k, so this guy couldn’t green light the $20k fast enough.
I took the cash and went right to the blackjack table in the high limit room next to the credit place, right in front. I remember changing the cash and getting started. My whole body was shaking, but when you are in degen mode you just don’t give a crap about the consequences. You just want to get even.
I wish I could tell you some of the hands I got. I wish I remembered anything specific. What I do remember are snap shots. I remember at one point putting purple chips in three spots. I remember playing every base and splitting ten’s like a total psychopath. I remember going on the biggest heater of my life. I remember getting tapped on the shoulder by the pitboss. At that point I was kind of freaking out. They must assume I am cheating. They must think I am underage. I look to the pitboss and ask him what the problem is. He laughs and goes you know what the problem is sir. I say I have not done anything wrong search me. He looked at me quizzically for a second, I don’t know what he was thinking, but then he gestured to the dealer. He said dude, we are out of chips, we’ve called for a refill. I had literally won the vast majority of the chips from the dealer. I take this as a sign and cash the heck out.
I insta pay back my marker, pay my credit card advance right away and go to my room. I had sat down with $20k, gotten to a low of like $10k and run it up to just over a $100k. I remember walking out of the high limit bj room so happy, but thinking very briefly I wonder if this is the worst thing to happen to me.
The thing with betting big is that when you try to go back to your normal stakes, it feels like a giant waste of time. Like my old stakes were beneath me. I take my new massive roll and start sitting in games I had no business being in. I would play the large PLO games they had, I would play the highest limit poker game they had. I remember once night around the superbowl, the one where the pats beat the seahawks at the last minute, playing in a room next to the high limit poker room in the back of the Borgata poker room. It was like this room off to the side with a gate. I had never even noticed it before. I was playing in some massive PLO game and had no idea what I was doing. I remember playing with Shaun Deeb, who is really fat irl, and this kid called Paul Volpe. They kicked my ass so hard. I remember playing in 2/4 stud and the game revolved around this old angry guy named Norman. There was also a douchey pro named Mike I think in the game. He would take the most crap I have ever heard.
Anyways, after floating around for a few months randomly jumping from plo to stud to high limit and no limit games, I discovered the 2/4 mixed game that ran Friday to Sunday. And I was totally hooked. The games were so crazy compared to the boring hold em I was used to. I learned about triple draw, badugi, badacey, super stud, ace-to-five, and other crazy games I don’t even remember.
When I first joined those games, I think people assumed I was good. I was young looking and played such high stakes. But within a month they all realized I was a new fish. The funny thing is at those stakes they tell you right to your face. I was told several times, there is always a seat for me, I was in way over my head, I am bleeding money. Compared to other younger players I was a real pleasure to play with. Respectful, never threw a tantrum, no showboating. I think a couple of the pros even felt like they liked me. I remember one pro, Jordan, tried to teach me the games and how to improve, but I didn’t want to hear it. I just wanted to drink and splash around and be a freaking moron.
I slowly blew through the epic black jack winnings and began taking out more $20k markers. I remember I had just gotten off the phone with the Borgata one night and my roommate walked into the living room and was like, dude did you just wire $20k to a casino? Wtf is wrong with you.
I eventually started playing in underground games in the city. I blew about $40k in those games and looking back on it, I was clearly getting cheated. But even knowing that I still played lol. I also think I was the only degen mark they ever encountered that paid off his debts on time. They even asked me once to stop writing such large checks, could I please make it out in $5k increments lol.
After blowing another $20k one weekend, I went back to my room and looked in the mirror. Disheveled, grumpy but most importantly just unhappy. The thrill of high stakes was gone. It was not a rush anymore. It felt like every week I would work and then go to AC to get kicked in the face. I lost so much cash in the 2/4 and 3/6 mixed games that I cannot blame it on run bad or variance. Someone has to be a real terrible player to lose that much in those games. Look I understand the pros probably cross booked each other, soft played and squeezed me – but I lost something like 25 straight sessions.
When I finally walked away from the disaster, I had lost $100k in blackjack profit and another ~$325k of my own money playing the pit, high stakes mixed games and games in the city. The amazing thing is I was able just walk away. I have not been back to AC since the end of 2014 / early 2015. The money I lost was all the money I had saved since 2010, busting my ass as an analyst and associate. I am grateful I finally stopped before liquidating my retirement accounts, which I had been contemplating at one point. I remember wanting to kill myself during the degen run, but never really had the courage to do it.
I wonder if the regs at the mixed games think I am dead in a ditch somewhere, blowing all that money so regularly every week and then never showing up ever again.
Full List of MEs as I remember them
I've been compiling a list of every ME that I experience. I'm only including those things that I have absolute memory of being a different way...I'm unclear on Froot/Fruit Loops and Sally Field(s) for example, so they aren't included. I also have not paid sufficient attention to geography to notice any changes there. I did pay a lot of attention to movies and pop culture though and I have a visual mind that makes patterns easily and naturally. I have two good friends who remember most of these just as I do and I'll note that we've been friends since around 2010. I met up with one of them the other day and quizzed her about The Thinker and Danielle Steele with NO prompting and she remembers them exactly as I do and has other memories tied to them being how we remember rather than how they appear to be now (like reading a Danielle Steele book on a long car ride and spending a lot of time tracing the letters in her name). She was as astounded as me to discover that these have changed in our reality. Which brings me to a theory as to why some of us experience them and others do not..... submitted by SpectralShakti to MandelaEffect [link] [comments]
I'm 40 and both of my friends who share these memories/MEs were also born in the early 80s - we didn't have tablets or constant access to any and all shows in the known Universe at all times. We watched the same movies on VHS over and over because there was literally nothing "good" on TV for most of the day. We played outside and took repeated notice of the yellow sun. On car rides, we read books or paid attention to our surroundings. We formed memories and patterns based upon our observations and we observed the same things over and over. It seems that the most iconic movies, quotes, artwork, etc. from our youth are those things that have changed. It's not just random little things - it's the symbols and quotes that were repeated over and over that we're told are different now. There's definitely a reason for WHAT has changed and I agree with a previous poster that looking at the WHAT can lead us to the WHY.
Ok, here's my list:
-The sun was yellow and larger than it is now – like twice as big
-Nelson Mandela died in prison in 80’s (twins on Cosby Show were named after him and his wife b/c he died)
-The Thinker clenched fist on forehead, elbow resting on knee
-American Gothic wife with dark haigray streaks looking forward (and maybe on the right instead of one the left (farmer’s left, visual right))
-VW logo connected
-Ford logo no curl
- Monopoly man has a monocle 100% no doubt, looks ridiculous without it
-Curious George has a tail and hangs from it
-“Mirror Mirror on the wall”
-“Luke, I am your father”
-“Hello Clarise” (said when she enters the room for the very first time which is the whole point -it's super creepy that he knows her name before they meet and her response to him is something like "how do you know my name?")
-Pikachu with black zig zag on tail
-Tinkerbell spelling out Walt Disney with her wand in Disney intros
-King Tut mask – only cobra in center
-Risky Business dance WITH sunglasses
-Objects in Mirror MAY BE Closer than they Appear
-Chewbacca gets a medal (and bites it??)
-The Great Wave – no boats
-Judge Judy has a gavel and uses it a lot
-Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum have propellers on their hat
-Dogs Playing Poker green visor on the dog on the right in the center – taking bets
-Lion and Lamb
-Life IS like a box of chocolates (note what it means that this has changed to life WAS....life no longer IS)
-Shaggy's adam's apple
-"Fly, my pretties, fly!"
- Stouffer's made Stove Top Stuffing
-the car JFK was assassinated in had 4 seats
- I also remember the line "That's the beauty of it, it doesn't DO anything" but I cannot remember what it's from. Has to be something from the late 80s/early 90s that I watched repeatedly though b/c I can hear the line clearly and almost "see" the scene in my mind. It's two guys in their early 30s(?), the guy on the right is the one that says the line.
edit for clarification of memories, added additional MEs ya'll reminded me of
Tales from the Gun Show: Independence Day Edition
submitted by FCattheKFC to guns [link] [comments]
Hello there internet! I know you've all missed me. I just worked the FABULOUS Baton Rouge gun show right here in the heart of cajun country, and have I got stories.
Do you want to hear stories about dealers selling $350 SCCY 9mm pistols? Or Magtech 9mm for $550/thousand? Or how I sold 14 guns in one day for a new PB on saturday? Or how I set my gross sales for a gun show weekend PB?
No. You don't want to hear that.
You clicked on this thread for the stories. And stories you are going to get!
My loadout was epic. Glocks, HK's, Sigs, Colt 6920's, Springfield Hellcats, you name it I had it in stock. And priced accordingly. I set everything up the night before and I had even more stuff to bring in Saturday morning.
The PA crackled and announced all guns should be tied and ready to go and at 9AM the masses came in looking for deals. And in some cases, they found some.
I had one guy saunter over looking for an S&W M&P 15-22. I only had two left in stock and not enough space on the tables for them. He says he'll take one sight unseen, I do his paperwork and get his money and tell him to show up at the show tomorrow and I'll have it ready for him to pickup. He's got his ID and everything together and it's smooth sailing. $500 in hundreds and he's on his way. I run him through the computer and I've got an instant approval. Woo.
My login screen warns me that background checks are taking 24 hours.
I had a feeling this would happen. I velcroed a small dry erase board to the wall just above my table that states: ALL BACKGROUND CHECKS ARE TAKING ________ MINUTES to be updated as the day gets weirder. I wipe off the minutes part and write "24 HOURS" in red dry erase marker.
I can hear the crowd behind me gasp and go "24 hours? I need a gun NOW!" in their heads and the pro salesman inside my noggin cracks a smile, leans back in the eames chair and puts his feet up on the ottoman. I have just implanted the most powerful driver of sales ever: fear.
Boy howdy, did it work.
The next hour is epic. I write ALL my Gen 5 Glock 19's up at $850. I am sold out by 11AM. Everything is flying off the table. Shield 9mm's, Stripped lowers, EZ shields, $300 Ruger LCP's, $700 Glock 43's.
What's the best $850 gun? An HK VP9, Glock 19 or Kel Tec Sub 2000? Fuck if I know. I sold one of each of them at that price.
It is nonstop asses and elbows and cash coming in left and right. I cannot count the money and run 4473's fast enough.
Noon flies by and I'm unable to touch my roast beef sandwich. I'm wearing gloves and a mask. This fucking mask SUCKS. It STINKS. It's brand new and it smells god-awful like someone used it to wipe their ass before packaging it and selling it in the store.
I don't shake anyones hand but I do count the money. The first lull hits at 1345. I ask my numismatist neighbor to watch the table as I go to the bathroom and wash my hands several times. I scarf down my sandwich fast and by 3PM things have calmed down. Crazy day. People asking me over and over for Taurus junk, Glock 43X's, Glock 48's, Glock 19 Gen 5's etc.
1: Hey do you have a Glock Generation 17?
FC: I will be dead in the cold cold ground before Glock ships a generation 17
1: Oh I meant a Glock 17
FC: right here
1: Are you seriously asking $850 for a Glock 17?
FC: Not asking. Getting.
I gesture to the person filling out a 4473 who has just asked me to write up a Glock 17 Generation 5 MOS for $850 and he nods with affirmation that that is in fact the price.
It is explained to this guy that there is not a single dealer in the ENTIRE GUN SHOW that has ANY glock pistols for sale from the 17 buyer since he's gotten here. I am the only one with inventory left. I debate hiking my prices another $50 but decide not to.
Some more folks saunter up
1: Do you have a ruger RS 9?
FC: ruger does not make an RS 9
1: Sure they do! It's called the service 9 now
FC: Can you google a photo for me?
1: I only use duckduckgo
FC: Fine, show me what an RS 9 looks like and let me see
(15 minutes of furious duckduckgoing ensues with no results)
FC: Are you sure it's an RS9?
1: I'm positive!
FC: Are you sure it couldn't be something else?
1: It's an RS9! I'm sure of it!
FC: Look at this
(FC shows image of Ruger SR9)
1: That's it!
FC: See how it says SR9?
1: Yeah, service 9 right?
FC: No, SR9 is SR9.
1: Then who makes the service 9?
FC: I don't think that's a thing.
1: Sure it is!
(More fuckfuckgo ensues, and it is abundantly clear that RS9 = SR9 = Service 9 = Security 9)
I have an old lady and her husband walk up and she picks up a Glock 19. Asks me if I take trades. I say sure.
1: It's a ruger revolver.
FC: What model?
FC: No, what model? You're saying hey, I own a ford.
1: Oh okay. It's a Ruger 38. It shoots 38.
FC: I need a little more than that. What kind is it.
1: Oh I see. It's a revolver.
FC: Your statement is like "hey, I need an oil filter. I have a ford car" - ford makes lots of cars, ruger makes lots of guns.
1: What would a model sound like?
FC: SP101, GP100, Single 6, 22/45, SR22, LC9
1: Oh I have no idea what it is
FC: Bring it in and I'll take a look. But I only trade when I can make money.
Wrote a Sig 1911 up for $1000 as my last sale of the day. I head home, I am beat.
My neighbors took advantage of the fireworks store and their buy one get 9 free special and have enough mortars and bottle rockets to simulate Falliujah, circa 2004. They're shooting fireworks well past 1AM. Fuck me to tears.
I wake up late and get to the show late. I kick off the show 15 minutes late and I have a guy trying to buy a Glock 19 from me. His ID does not have his current address and does not match up with the 4473. He asks if it will be a problem. I say it's no problem just get me something with your current address on it before the firearm releases.
1: But the dealer on the other side of the hall had NO PROBLEM taking this ID!
FC: I've made a living on my attention to detail. The federal regulation book says you need current ID.
1: Never mind! Gimme my ID back!
He snatches the clipboard and rips his ID from the board and walks away in a huff. His girl tries to apologize. I roll my eyes. Not my circus, not my elephants.
The morning starts off slow, I'm sleepy but it's not a total snoozefest. A very nice lady came by and picked up a PWS Mod 2 without argument on the price,
I wrote up another couple guns before lunch. One person has the WORST HANDWRITING ON THE FACE OF THE PLANET. I mean, it's bad. I emailed my brother who works as a pharmacist and said "hey, can you read this?" and he said "It looks like it says 492 milligrams of penicilin? what am I reading?"
The rest of the show goes on, I write up a few more glocks and I deliver everything that I wrote yesterday once the background checks come back. Everyone is super nice and polite. One lady stops by and she cannot decide between the Glock 17 Gen 5 MOS and the Sig P238. She asks if she can get a deal on both.
I look up at her and her life partner and this is the precise moment I was waiting for all weekend.
You see gentle readers... some guys like to go get drunk and party. Others like to hang glide or skydive. They like that adrenaline rush. Me? I like the deals. I love to make deals. Nobody makes deals like this America. Nobody. Not China. Not Crooked Hillary. Not Lyin Ted Cruz. Believe me, these deals are going to make America great again. You will be sick and tired of the deals that I make. Unprecedented deals.
I gesture for her to come in a little closer and put on my best sotto voice.
FC: I don't normally do this, but just for you.......if you take both guns. I'll throw in one of these. I don't normally do this.
FC reaches under the table and pulls out a mega pack of Charmin Ultra Strong TP and places it on top of the PD trade in Glock 17's and 21's.
I slap the top of the package triumphantly.
FC: You two can have all the Chipotle you want with this bad boy!
1 looks at me with the "you cannot be serious" face
2 looks at me with the "you know this isn't a bad deal" face
1: Is this a joke?
FC: Nope! I'll write both of em up right now, you get the guns AND the TP!
1: This is......I don't even know what to think. Lisa?
2: That's Charmin.
1: Are you seriously considering this?
2: Everybody poops! Make the deal!
1 pulls out the Amex. I write up both the guns. They leave happy with their guns and TP. I'm sure it all fits in the back of the subaru outback.
I write up a few more items and near the end of the show, three guys show up. One is on the phone talking rapidly in a foreign language. He waves me over.
1: The police trade Glock 17's. This all you have?
FC: The three on the table is all I got.
1: I’ll take three of these Glock 17’s. Make me a deal.
FC: $2100 cash on all three.
FC: Cash out the door.
(I hand over clipboard)
1, 2 and 3 begin talking in machine gun Romanian. 1 has taken a seat and 3 is filling out the paperwork. I say what the fuck. 3 keeps filling out the form. I rip it off the clipboard, Hand it to 1 and tell him to fill it out. He completes the form.
1: I only want one now
FC: you just said you wanted three
2: yeah If you’re not going to work a deal on three he only wants to buy one
Me: who is he?
1: I’m buying
Me: no, who’s the gun for?
2: it’s for his father
1: It's for me
1: it’s for me
2: It's for his father!
FC: then why isn’t your father here?
The looks on their faces tell me everything. They are shitty poker players. The phone and the machinegun romanian, he was a straw doing a buy on behalf of another party. I call shenannigans.
FC: These aren't for you are they?
1: They're for me!
2: They're for his father! come on! His father wants him to have a gun for him too
3: let’s get out of here we can take our money elsewhere gimme my id
Me: it’s not your ID, it’s 1’s ID. Who's ID is this?
3 tears the clipboard out of my hand, takes his ID off the board and I don’t speak Romanian but these guys are now pissed at me
Total people I’ve ticked off today: 4
I didn't choose this life. So now I've got a totally complete 4473 that I need to fill out for three PD trade Glock 17's. I look down at the address. It's three hours away.
It's in ATF Jane's district. You all remember ATF Jane?
Jane puts bad people in jail and likes Shake Shack. We get along SPLENDIDLY. In fact, I consulted her on the firearms/stalking/restraining order article I wrote about Megan and her Ex. She's a super professional federal law enforcement superstar in my book.
Well, time to make a call. I get her VM and leave her a message as I pack up everything and count my cash. 21 guns for the weekend. $13k in sales for one gun show at coronagunrun margins make me one happy boy.
My investments in the collapse of society are now paying dividends in spades!
I'm driving home and ATF Jane returns my call. I tell her the story about the Rumanian gypsy straw purchase ring I had to shutdown.
ATF: You have got to be shitting me
FC: Nope. The guys literally ran their mouth and made me shut it down.
ATF: What a bunch of idiots.
FC: Yeah, they were buying from a few dealers judging by their bags and their haul. I think there might be an investigation warranted.
ATF: Thanks for the tip! Let me know if I can help you out in any way!
I look down at my watch, it's 645PM and I'm too tired to cook tonight. I pull the F350 into the Olive Garden parking lot, head in for dinner and the place is PACKED.There's a few people in the bar but not too many, everyone wants tables. I can see other salesmen on their laptops so I know the wifi is up. This is a good sign. I take out my laptop and write this out in the bar from a high top as I feast on breadsticks and chicken gnocchi soup.
My phone rings halfway into my second bowl of creamy chicken gnocchi goodness.
FC: Go for Will
1: hey man, I saw your post on armslist
FC: Okay, how can I help you?
1: I need a gun. You got a glock fawty?
FC: What model? 22, 23, 27, 35 or what?
1: aw man you got more than one?
FC: I have four to five hundred guns for sale at any given moment. What are you looking for?
1: aw hell yeah! lemme tell you what i need! I need some dracos, mini dracos. got any?
FC: no, sorry. I just did the gun show this weekend and I sold out of a lot of stuff.
1: What about an AR pistol? You got any of those?
FC: I got one Sig 516 pistol left in stock
1: will that shoot 223 AND 556?
FC: Sure, chamber is cut wide enough
1: yeah that'll work. When can we meet? I got CASH. Straight cash yo!
FC: Why don't you come down tomorrow, I'll get your cash and do your paperwork. Three day wait if you don't have a concealed.
1: WHAT DO YOU MEAN PAPERWORK?
FC: You gotta do paperwork, is that a problem?
1: I'm looking for a STRAIGHT CASH DEAL man I don't want to do no paperwork, I want to just cash and carry same day!
FC: You want to make one trip and pickup?
1: Yeah man!
FC: Okay no problem, just give me your credit card and when your wait clears come in and pick everything up.
1: Yo I'm three hours away! Why you gotta make me do paperwork?
FC: What's the problem here? You don't trust me?
1: I don't trust you! I want to just give you cash to not do paperwork. Like I'll give you $1000 extra so I can get everything without a wait.
(Note: I'm having this conversation ON THE PHONE IN THE BAR of the Olive Garden with all the other diners in earshot. This is where it gets good.)
FC: Let me get this right. You want to pay me $1000 extra just so you don't want to have to do a waiting period and paperwork?
1: yeah! thats right!
FC: Why's that worth that much more to you?
1: I got a felony so I can't do no paperwork
FC: So it sounds like you got a felony and you got cash to spend and you want a no paperwork deal on a bunch of guns.
1: that's right! So can you help me?
FC: Where you at?
1: I'm outside Mobile, about three hours away
FC: Okay here's what I'm gonna do. I probably can't help you, but here's what I'm gonna do. Whats the best number for you? I got a buddy of mine from high school who works with guys like you all the time. I'm going to give him a call and give him your number and if he wants to meet up with you, he's gonna set that up - you're talking to him from now on and not me. Got it?
1: yeah man that would be great! have him call me or text me here's my digits (he gives me number and I write it down on a cocktail napkin)
FC: Okay I'll pass it along - no promises
1: thanks nigga!
I hang up the phone. I take a deep breath and smile.
So, I told you that story to tell you another story. Back when I was in high school, I was a real hellraiser. One of the guys that I went to Central High with went LE. He started as a sleepy road cop and promoted to narcotics detective. His claim to fame is busting a bigtime celebrity with drugs and basically made his career on that arrest. Since he was USELESS for undercover work after that he decided to go to the feds. He then spent about 5 years working with the state department and DSS doing all sorts of secret squirrel shit across the globe while paying DC rent for a capitol hill apartment he was never at. That got old. So he put in for a transfer. This is about 5 years ago back in 2015.
He decided to go to ATF and be major league doorkicker. He goes to transfer and they need a DEEP background check. Like someone that's known him for 10+ years from hometown. He's low on contacts from home and he facebook messages me. He asks me if I can call back the background investigator and do an interview. I say sure, no problem. I am the ONLY person that's still in the same town from high school and everyone else is dead/in jail/would not make a good person to contact.
The guy calls me, comes by my office and interviews me, asks me about my friend, I told him all the embarrassing stories from high school including the time he lost a bet, had to wear a dress and smear ranch dressing all over his face while holding a sign that said "NOT MILK! and we took polaroids. Yeah. Anyways, despite all that he gets the approval and the shiny ATF badge. He's now kicking down doors in an undisclosed location in a major gun/drug trafficking corridor of the US and up to his eyeballs in arrests.
The reason I told you this story? He went to police academy in mobile, was a road cop outside mobile and a narcotics detective outside mobile. He did is MPA and doctorate there. He still has lots of friends in southern law enforcement.
I pick up the phone and call him. No answer, VM.
FC: Hey Eddie, you still have friends at the Mobile County Sheriffs Department? I've got some low hanging fruit for them to pick.
The entire bar has heard the dialogue and the following voicemail message and cracks up laughing. I'm offered 2 beers (I show them my AA chip, thanks but no thanks) and I get a bunch of attaboys from the salesmen.
So, I call back ATF Jane. ATF Jane has some colleagues in Mobile that she can call and I CC Eddie on the chain.
Today, I didn't even have to use my AK.
I got to say it was a good day.
Wigan athletic league fixing
submitted by jebboYouTube to conspiracy [link] [comments]
This may seem like a pretty pointless subject because this is about a second tier English football club that recently have had some pretty sketchy stuff happening with their board of directors. To give credit to those who have helped researched it there was a great FNG Video that helped me massively and there were also some twitter accounts that helped with research, links are here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ma0hxojv5iY
Researchers: https://twitter.com/RobboHarry https://twitter.com/marksparko https://twitter.com/JayWhittle6 https://twitter.com/NathanAvie https://twitter.com/dylanharris
In November of last year, long time owner Dave Whelan sold the club to a company called IEC, Which was owned and managed by somebody called Stanley Choi, a professional poker player from Hong Kong, That owned the club till he decided to sell it to a shell company called NLF, which put the club into administration. He then sold the club to Au Yeung, a friend of his who owned a betting corporation and there the club stayed, but with so few games to go and twelve league points deducted, the club is looking at relegation, which is exactly what Stanley Choi placed a bet on.
I can confirm the fact that he placed a bet on Wigan's relegation thanks to a video with the voice of Neil Parry, a chairman of the EFL that oversees the league in which he stated that he had placed a bet on Wigan getting relegated, and moreover the EFL confirmed that Parry was the voice in the video.
I still don't know how these guys have passed the EFL fit and proper test as Au Yeung was bankrupt in 2004 and Stanley Choi purposefully put the club into administration by selling it in-between his shell companies, and still the EFL didn't see it coming.
The Gambler's Fallacy - My Story of Gambling Away Harvard Med School & Promising Start-Up
Hey guys, submitted by thegamfallacy to problemgambling [link] [comments]
Longtime lurker here, but created a new account to post regularly. My goal is to keep myself accountable and hopefully encourage others.
Early-Life: I grew up in an incredible family. My parents loved us well and provided everything we needed while making us work enough to avoid entitlement. I remember being very happy as a kid. We also had 9 cousins who all lived within 2-3 streets of our house. It was through these cousins that I was first exposed to gambling. Our parents all enjoyed gambling and did so responsibly, so we started playing $1 Texas Hold 'Em games once every few months with all the cousins. It was fun and relatively harmless. We also got a "casino computer game" which was a casino video game using play money. I remember continuing to go "all-in" on the BJ table and "restarting the game" when I busted until I built up an account of $100M+.
First Signs of Trouble: I remember counting down the days to my 18th birthday in order to create a PokerStars account. I signed up on my 18th birthday and started playing. I had some small wins, but was playing at very small stakes as I had little money. I accidentally overdrew my account and stopped after I lost that money.
College: I attended one of the top ranked US universities to study biology with hopes of going to medical school. I was focused on academics and social life and didn't think of gambling at all, much less actually gamble save the occasional poker night. I experienced tremendous success in all facets of life during college. I was on top of the world and couldn't wait for life to start. To make things better I ended up getting accepted to my dream school, Harvard Med School.
"Gambling to win my Harvard Med School Tuition" - I was fortunate enough to have a grandmother who offered to pay for my degree, which would have allowed me to finish debt free. Unfortunately, I watched a movie the summer before school where the protagonist, an MIT student, learns blackjack to win his Harvard Med School tuition. Of course it works because it's a movie, but I think how difficult could blackjack be. I'll learn the ropes and see what I can turn $100 into.
Unbelievably, I managed to go on the heater of my life and turn the $100 into 90% of my tuition. I'm on top of the world and regularly making bets larger than my yearly salary. It was insane and I had the cash to cover the other 10%, but my selfish ass wanted to win it all. Naturally, I lost it all. Then it got bad...I was making these unbelievably large wagers with "house money", but I wanted to get it back so I started blowing through my savings. No luck as I'm gambling with pure emotion. I start putting money on credit cards and again start experiencing some success, but want to get everything back that I lost. Proceed to have a terrible experience of the gambler's fallacy (belief that prior hands impact future outcome) and lost 3x my salary in 4 hands. I was dealt 20 each time and the dealer ended up with 21 each time....terrible luck.
Coming Clean: I had to tell my parents that I was deep in debt and no longer wanting to attend Harvard. I needed to get myself right, so I moved home and started attending GA. During this time I started working on a start-up and consumed myself with this startup. I ended up experiencing some early success and significant investor interest. I had $1M of investor money committed, but I was going to have to give up 25% of my company. Before doing that I thought I'll give gambling one more chance. It's been several months at this point and I won't be compulsive. My dumbass works up a massive payroll once again, but want to win my entire investment. I end up losing it and everything my business had already generated.
Telling My Parents (Again) - Worst day of my life. Absolutely devastating to disappoint them like I did. Undeserving of the love and support that they showed. Cried like a baby the entire time. Committed to changing.
Getting a Real Job - Deep in debt (Almost $100k) and having squandered away Harvard Med School and my own business I needed to buckle down, get a real job, and start working out of the debt. I'm living with my parents to save money and pay this off. I've got a decent job and should be able to pay it off in less than 2 years. Recently had a small slip up and was disgusted with myself, so much so that I don't think I'll play it again. I know I can't win my way out, and even if I did it would crush my loved ones that I turned back to gambling.
What's Next - Stepping up and working through this. Attending GA, listening to podcasts, reading books, checking this group, posting/commenting often, etc. I cannot afford to continue on. I'm 27 and have sacrificed so much already, but can still turn it around. Don't want to ruin my life. Sorry for the novel.
I need help so bad, I’m a f**cking idiot!!!
I’ve been numb for the last 2 1/2 weeks and need help getting my life back....This is my first post so please excuse the length but I need support. I started like most, home game Texas holdem when I was 17. Nothing crazy, 20$ buyin. When I finally hit 21, I went to the casino for a weekend trip for my birthday. I was down $400 the first Two days and on the morning I was checking out I hit big playing 3 card poker and won my money back. What would have been a learning experience of losing, turned into chasing your loses can get you even. I went back 3 more times in 4 months and was up $3700. Shit this was easy money, WRONG! I spent the next 6 years of my life going to the casino maybe 4-5 times a year. I went with money I was okay to lose but always quit if I was up. We once drove 2 hours, sat on a machine hit for 550$ in the first 5 spins on a .25 machine, got dinner and drove 2 hours home. Over the last year as my income increased, so did my bet size and risk. I started to bet higher and would go to the ATM if I lost quick. I probably lost around 10,000 last year. At the end of the year I saw that and said to myself, you should cut back on the gambling and invest that money. So 2020 starts off well, money is coming in and Covid hits us all. I had money in accounts and made about 17,000 as the market climbed back up. The problem was at the same time, we were all in lockdown and I said f*** it let’s gamble at home. I have adhd, ocd and deal with bad anxiety and sometimes depression. All of which don’t go well with gambling. I started out playing slots and sports betting. Up and down small bets nothing to write home about. I started to play blackjack after a friend told me about it and the winning started. I was up close to 7,000 and couldn’t stop playing. I would play on breaks at work, walking the dog, cooking dinner, none stop it was on my mind. I started increasing my bets and would lose the first 1,000 quick and would chase until I was even or up, sometimes up to 6-7,000. I was playing on winning for a while until one night I snapped. I turned 5,000 into 16,000 and hit withdrawal. That night I couldn’t sleep, I kept getting the urge and finally caved. I was playing irrationally and lost all 16,000. I became numb, I could do so much for my family with that money and I f**kin blew it! Ever since that day I have chased. On two occasions I was down close to 10,000 of my money and got even to then give it all back. What the hell is wrong with me?!? I was back to a good point but couldn’t stop. There were sleepless nights, screaming at myself on the car rides to work, punching myself in the arms and legs. Then came the worst day, which led to the worst two weeks of my life. I again was up 5,000 in a session withdrawal button selected and reversed it. I would go on a binge and lose close to 35,000 chasing loses that never turned around. I have had suicidal thoughts and can’t come to tell my wife what I have done. I look back now and can’t believe I didn’t see the craziness that was going on. I couldn’t go more than a couple hours without at least logging on Nd playing a couple hands. I have a baby under a year old at home and they are my world. I feel like I have wronged them and have so much guilt. We have been together since high school and she has trusted me with our finances. I have contacted an addiction counselor and my evaluation is this Friday. I still have the urge but can not do anymore harm to my family. I can’t sleep and just keep playing over in my head all the things I could have provided for my family with that money. She can tell something is off but I’ve just told her work is stressing me. submitted by Issue_International to problemgambling [link] [comments]
Can anyone give me guidance on how to tell my wife about my gambling addiction?
House for sale. For NoSleepers only.
Hi NoSleep, submitted by house_for_sale to nosleep [link] [comments]
I’m Joseph from Germany.
I’ve got a house for sale. It’s an average old house in a suburbia of German town built some time before the WW II. It’s a one floor building with living room, kitchen, bathroom and three bedrooms. Beside one room, everything has been renovated about a decade ago. It has everything you need if your housing requirements are modest.
I can’t give you any details on bulding’s location or anything that may help you locate it. I can only give it to a decided buyer. Believe me, I’ve got my reasons which I explain below.
The fact is I never should sell this house but the situation forces me to do it.
I’m quite an ordinary guy but there’s one thing that ruins my life. It’s gambling addiction. I spend all my money on online poker and slots. I’ve tried to attend therapy to overcome it but never helped in a longer span. Therapist thought it happened because my parents died in car accident when I was 18. I though it was because of trauma I experienced as a child. Recently, I hit the bottom and my debts grew so big that I can expect bailiff or mafia (yes, I borrowed money from suspicious guys) any day.
You probably think that NoSleep is a strange place to sell anything. But the house has something extraordinary inside and I believe that only people like you, those who deal with unknown terror on daily basis can treat the mystery of this house properly.
As a kid I often came to visit this house. My grandfather lived there. He was amazing guy. He always spent a lot of time with me, bought me sweets, tried to keep up with my hobbies (he could enumerate all 151 Pokemon of first generation!) and told me interesting stories from the past.
Although he wasn’t an affectionate kind of man, I always felt his support and care, I guess he was my best friend when I was 7 because dad spent most of the time away on engineering contracts abroad and I couldn’t find many friends in kindergarden and primary school. I was sick too often.
Grandpa gave me a lot of freedom, he let me play in every room of the house including moist cellar. Each room, except for one.
He had his cabinet which was always locked. Whenever he entered it, it was in the biggest secrecy and he never let me go or even look inside. He always ignored me whenever I mentioned it or told me something like ‘I’ll show you when you grow up’. I don’t think it was the most appropriate promise for 7-year-old. It made me believe that room contained amazing, adult things. It bugged me so much that one time, I decided to wait outside and run inside when grandpa was leaving the cabinet. I managed to surprise him and get into the room.
Grandpa was shocked by my behavior and it gave me a few seconds to look around. I was a bit disappointed at first. There were no wonders of being a grown-up. It was quite ordinary room full of book shelves with one old wooden desk and chair in the middle.
But beside the dull things there were door.
Door did not look not very suspicious. It was a piece of wood painted black. Even as 7-year old I could figure out that they led to nowhere or at least the space beneath them was very small.
Ever after that day, the door were present in my dreams. For the next two years I dreamt of myself reaching them and opening them. I had no other dreams. That constant dreaming of door ruined my ability to have a good sleep. I started napping at school and lost my ability to focus. I’ve become nervous.
I was sent to psychologist who decide I have ADHD and put me on medication. I attended therapy but I never told a word about door. Somehow I felt that if parents learn that those door are source of my problem, they wouldn’t send me to grandpa anymore.
I visited grandpa every few weeks, sometimes I stayed for night. Grandpa never even once opened cabinet in front of me. But I believed that one day, I’ll have an opportunity to get to the door. To make my dream real.
And the day had come. The worst day in my life...
It was October. I was 10 at time, struggling with trouble in school and visiting the cabinet every night in my sleep.
We sat in the kitchen eating toast with cheese for supper we heard a strange noise in the garden. Usually it wouldn’t even raise my grandpa’s brow. However, it was a few days after a violent incident happened in a nearby town. An elder couple was attacked and killed in their own house.
No wonder grandpa overreacted and run to his bedroom to get a gun from safe.
Of course, the noise turned out to be nothing more than a wild boar trying to open the trash bin. However, grandpa made a big mistake. He didn’t notice I followed him and managed to see the exact code to the safe.
I thought I was lucky back then, but nowadays I think that there were too many coincidences. That it was the influence of the force drawing me to the door.
In most cases it would lead to ‘kid shot his school friend’ kind of headlines in newspaper. But my object of desire was something else. I figured out (or something put the thought into my mind) that the key to the Door and to the cabinet must be stored there.
I couldn’t wait any longer than it was necessary. At 10 p.m. I left grandpa in front of TV, lulled by Rambo or some other classic action.
Quiet as a cat I made it to the cabinet instead of guet room where I stayed. I went to the safe and input the code. Fortunately (absolutely not fortunately, to be honest), grandpa didn’t wake.
With a short crack, the safe unlocked. As I expected, beside the gun there were two keys inside. One modern and another one - old fashioned, small and rusty. I watched the old key closely but didn’t notice anything out of ordinary. It was plain key made of cheap metal. No decorations. If the contest for most unnoticeable key was ever held, it would be a serious contender. Yet I knew, it can bring the end to my obsession.
I realized it may be unsafe to open the door. But I thought I’d open them, look inside for a second, close them and live happily ever after knowing the greatest secret of my family. I had to look inside, to stop my dream.
I wasted no more time. I almost run to the cabinet excited. I overcame the first door and went close to those desired. The lock seemed too big for the key but when I put the key inside, it was a perfect match. Excited, I turned the key and then pressed the handle…
Everything happened so fast. Barely I unlocked the Door, they opened widely and the unknown force pushed me so hard I flew back. I raised my head.
There was a light inside. A light which was bright like thousand stars, yet I had no trouble looking at it. A light which appeared alike that of the sun but the one which didn’t feel lifegiving. A light which gave warmth like a fire but also the chills deep down your spine.
It seemed both artificial and natural, beautiful and terrifying. If you want a remote idea of what I was looking at, watch recordings of atomic bomb test. The flash after detonation is the closest approximation.
But this light lasted longer than a glimpse of an eye. It was there, and the source of the light spread, slowly filling the room, like it was creeping out from the door. The way it spread made me think for a short while that maybe it wasn’t just a light but something more material or even alive.
In the movies such a scene is usually accompanied by a dramatic ensemble or choir. But it was quiet. Quiet like never before and after. No sound from inside the door or from the world. My heart furiously bet in my chest and my breath was quick and nervous out of fear but I couldn’t hear it.
I’m not sure if it was the influence of the Door or just plain shock but I couldn’t move. I lost a will to move any part of my body. I just stared dumbly as the light grew closer and closer to me…
Suddenly, another force pulled me from the ground.
‘Let me stay… Let me stay…’, I mumbled but it couldn’t be heard when the thing took me outside, away from the cabinet.
It was only after the cabinet’s door closed when I realized that it was my grandpa who took me from the room.
I looked at his face when he put me standing on the floor. He was pale and seemed furious, yet he didn’t yell at me. Instead he gave me a short tight hug. It was hurried but really heartwarming.
‘I love you, Matt’, he said after that and it was the first time he ever told it explicitely.
‘I love you, too, grandpa. I’m sorry…’
‘I know. Now, go to the kitchen and call mum. Tell her to come right away and that… I love her.’
He grabbed the doorknob.
‘Please, don’t go in there, grandpa.’, I cried.
‘Go! And it’ll best if you wait for mum in the garden.’
I finally did it. I ran to the kitchen, called mother. Those few words I was meant to tell her were barely recognizable cause I stuttered and cried out of stress and fear.
As told, I stood outside in the garden.
Mother arrived in 30 minutes. She went inside house alone. After a few minutes I heard her scream.
The Door were closed. But grandpa lied in front of them, lifeless.
After that my dream has changed. I started having ordinary dreams again but every few nights I relived opening it exactly as it happened in reality.
But there was a slight difference. Every time when I looked at the cabinet just before leaving it, there was a single red eye looking at me from inside the light…
It’s been almost twenty years since that evening. I’ve never really overcome the feeling that I killed grandfather with my reckless behavior. And I never got rid of that scary dream. What’s more, I’ve never really admitted my parents that it was me who opened the door. I thought that until death they were convinced that it was grandpa who made a mistake.
Parents inherited the house but they gave it to Uncle Andrew, grandpa’s only brother. He redecorated almost whole building but left the cabinet intact and kept it shut for years. So it was obvious for me that whole family knew the secret and I was about to learn it one day.
I learned it two years ago, shortly before I became the owner of the house.
I think that my whole family is cursed or something as uncle also met with the reaper far too soon. He got a pancreas cancer.
A week before his death he called me.
‘You know what’s inside the door, don’t you?’, he started the conversation and left me speechless for a minute or so. He told me some details about the door and informed that according to his last will I would be the next owner of the house.
I won’t make the details from his story public. I can tell it only to the buyer of this house. You’ll get the story, code to the special bank deposit box where key to the door is hidden.
And the most important thing.
A short note on what to do when the door are accidentally opened.
[Repost] PlayNANO - Let's show everyone what NANO is capable off!
(sorry for this repost, more details at the end) submitted by playnano to nanocurrency [link] [comments]
As some have said a couple of times in the last months, NANO is great, but it lacks a lot on adoption. There is no "Killer App" that makes users interested in NANO. It might be great, but if it's not used it won't succeed.
Introducing PlayNANO PlayNANO
it's an attempt at fixing this. On PlayNANO users will be able to earn
Nano by completing all sorts of tasks; Play
multiplayer games with friends and earn Nano for winning; Bet
on multiple casino games; And lastly spend
their Nano on all sorts of digital products. Oh and also, no account or login required! See why Nano is the best crypto, with fee-less and instant use cases. Earn, play, bet, and spend - no account or login required.
I might not be the first doing something like this, but I'm aiming for better than what we have now.
- First - it will be for-profit. I love this community and a lot of the projects built, especially in the last couple of weeks. But most of them aren't for profit, nor targeted towards the end-user, and if we keep on making projects that don't generate money, we won't have the means to reach the masses. Many say the "Feeless, instant, green" markets for itself - I don't think I agree - that sentence won't reach the ears of many people unless it's paid to get there.
- Second - there is an affiliate program, for the same reason - because people are much more willing to share if there's money involved. On PlayNANO you'll be able to earn 1% of everything your referrals earn. (approx. 30% commission)
- Third - I've made the effort to focus on UI and UX. As many might have noticed the last couple of weeks, we have great developers, that build awesome things, but we are lacking in the user experience, which nowadays it's so necessary.
PlayNANO's Roulette Play the European Roulette with Nano - fee-less and instant as Crypto should be!
My favorite feature so far, a provably fair multiplayer roulette
. Instant betting and very quick payouts - sometimes you even get your payout before the roulette stops spinning! (and yeah, I'm gonna leave this as a feature to showcase the power of NANO xD
With this multiplayer roulette, you are not betting alone, you will also see other players bets on the table, for a more fun and immersive experience. And it uses a provably fair system to make sure that all numbers/spins are fair and can't be manipulated by anyone.
I've also created Jumper
- a simple game with simple rules, but there's space for great strategies! Each game starts with a 12 by 12 grid, and the objective of the game is to be the last one standing on the grid, by sweeping your opponents off. Compete with other players and earn NANO by sweeping them out of the game! Next steps
This is the first release but I have got a lot planned for the future! Starting with a multiplayer Texas Holdem Poker feature; more games to be added to the Play section; more ways to earn Nano, and add way more prizes to the spend list. Quick FYI:
I'm using a 400$/month server, with a GPU, to handle the heavy PoW generation. Within the last month my server has sent over 45.000 transactions, mostly due to the Earn - Watch Videos feature - which is getting quite popular on Venezuela, Indonesia, and Central Africa. So I don't think I'm in love with the future v21 PoW increase xD
I'm not saying PlayNANO
is the "Killer App" we need, but it's something. I intend to make a living out of it and use the profits to make Nano reach more people, whether through marketing, donations to the development fund, maybe help fund the next Build-Off competition, and/or other things.
So go ahead and try it out, maybe show it to your friends to show how awesome Nano is ;) All feedback will be much appreciated.
(Once again, for those who caught it, I'm sorry for the repost. I made this repost because last time I posted I was in a hurry, the post was not well-formatted, I made a mistake on the title, I didn't pick a good time to post, and all that made that post's exposure quite low. This is my do-over, won't do it again!)
"Abdullah's Real Name" Neville Goddard Research (New York) Part #2
| || |https://preview.redd.it/m92l0idf3j951.png?width=716&format=png&auto=webp&s=cd6e873a0fbfd7c2dc591ca29ff0e351b53c0cd8 Note: The idea to search for “Prof. Abdullah” on newspapers.com came from a post on Reddit that quoted a book by Bernard Cantin, (late founder of the New Thought center in Montreal) titled “Joseph Murphy Se Raconte a Bernard Cantin” interviews he made at the Murphy’s home in Laguna hills, California that tells the story of his meetiing with Ab. From the interviews, the book states that when living in New York, (the book does not state when or the years) Murphy met professor Abdullah submitted by koheli to NevilleGoddard [link] [comments]
*, a black Jew from Israel, who knew all the intricate symbolic details of the old and New Testaments. And that this meeting was one of the most defining episodes of Murphy’s spiritual evolution. Upon meeting him, Ab who had never known or met Murphy and his family told him he was one of 6 children, not 5 as he originally thought. Later on when Murphy interrogated his mother, he found out that he had another brother who was born stillborn and whose existence had never been mentioned by his parents. This information appears on page 32 and 33 of the book. The OP mentions also that he lectured at Cambridge.*
This is Part #2 of on-going research into the identity of the Ethiopian rabbi Abdullah who Neville Goddard studied with for seven years in the 1930s in New York City. Part #1 Reddit Post
Read full “About Abdullah” Neville Goddard Research (New York) Part #1
Abdullah’s Real Name
In part one we hadn’t discovered "Prof. Abdullah's" real name.
In The Sun article (New York, New York 03 Aug 1899, Thu on Page 7), titled “Astrologer Who Was Swindled" states his real name is Barin L. Behrendi. “Barin L. Behrendi, who professionally is “Prof. Abdullah, astrologer,” went before Magistrate Brann in the Centre Steet Police Court as complainant against a woman and told how he had been swindled out of $80.”
This may be a typo because in the article by the same newspaper a year before on (08 Dec 1898, Thu • Page 3) in the article, “One John Smith Missing” the name is Behrendt
“After Miss Fox left. Prof. Abdulaah sat down and thought the case over. Out of business hours Abdullah admits that he is not Abdullah at all, but that his name is Behrendt, and that he has no esoteric powers, but merely brings to bear on the problems submitted to him a reasoning mind and a wide experience. Formerly he called himself a “Professor of Common Sense”, until he found that a credulous public liked high-sounding titles better.”
In passenger list on Ancestry.com (which I haven’t accessed yet) there is a B.L Behrendt who left from Southhampton England
Description and Age
In The Sun article (New York, New York 18 Feb 1894, Sun • Page 13) “Doctor with Common Sense”, the reporter describes him:
“This priest of the cult of common sense calls himself Prof. Abdullah, which he admits is one a professional name. He is a short, sturdy, Jew German, 50 years old, by his own admission, although he looks ten years younger. He dresses with extreme neatness, and his manner and address are those of a man of the world.”
That he was 50 years old in 1894
is quite close to the approximation of his age in the previous research,
which would place his birth year at 1848. In the previous article we estimated he was born in the 1840s
The last time, he saw Abdullah was in 1956 and his secretary said he went to Ethiopia to die in 1957. (Lecture in 1964
In “The One Greater Than John”
“He said to me in 1933 (I met him in ’29)…and he did everything, he ate everything, he drank everything. He didn’t smoke only because he just didn’t enjoy it, but he did everything. An old, old man, he was then in his late eighties
when I met him.”
So from this, we gather Abdullah was 81 in 1929
when he met Neville Goddard and he died at 109 years old.
The age of "Prof. Abdullah" checks out with Neville's description. Also that he was Jewish.
But in the articles below there is no mention of being Ethiopian.
Not sure if the height checks out, is 5"11" short for a man?
"Well, this morning, in my usual ventures in the mind, here I found Abdullah. Ab is gone from this world now. Here stands before me—and Ab was my height, I’m 5’11”"
From 1894 (Sage):
The woman in the case was Aurelia Delehanty, sometimes called Madame Belmont, and still further known as Aurelia Mansfield. She lives in Fourteenth street, near Prof. Abdullah. One day she called on him for advice.
“You’re a fortune teller, aren’t you?” she asked.
“No, madam, I am not,” replied Abdullah.
“If I could tell fortunes and foresee the future, I would not be here. I would be on the race track making bets, and foreseeing the winners for my own benefit.”
“But I thought you gave people advice,” said the fair visitor with disappointment visible in her face.
“So I do,” replied Abdullah, “and though I can’t tell fortunes, perhaps I can do some other things that will interest you. For instance, I can tell that your watch, which is not visible to me, has stopped at 7 o’clock, and that you have in the back compartment of your pocketbook, a man’s card and that you have come here to consult me about some lost money, and —-“
“Gracious heavens!” cried the caller; “how did you know all those things? You must be a magician.”
“Merely a trick, madam; merely a trick. Now state your business.”
“He uses the same methods as others have used before him, but where they ascribed their power to occult and supernatural means, he ascribes his to natural laws and trained faculties”
“By instinct he is a nomad, and in his globe-trotting he has picked up eight or ten languages which he speaks well, and a matterings of other tongues. He also picked up a large amount of experience, trained powers of observation, the ability to estimate men at a glance, and a great many odds and ends of useful information and practical shrewdness, all of which things constitute his stock in trade. There is also one other thing which he has learned, and that is what he calls eye reading.
“Ah, yes, the eye reading,” repeated Prof. Abdullah. “I learned it from a man whose name is known from here to the (l’aeifle?). He died not long ago. He and I were fellow passengers on a steamer from Victoria to Hong Kong, years ago. On our first meeting after a little poker game he told me all about myself. I was astounded. “I play no more poker with you.” I said. “You know too much.” He laughed. “It is no good in cards,” said he. “It is but a trick, a knack.” “If I knew it,” I cried, “the world would be mine.” Before the trip was over he taught it to me for $100. It was so simple that I knocked my head against the wall that I never thought of it before. Practice has made me expert in it.
“And so you told her that he was dead merely because it seemed the best way out of it for all concerned?”
No, sir” said the little professor earnestly, “The man is dead.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’ll tell you. Perhaps you’ve never noticed it, but there is a distinct difference between the picture of a live man and that of a man who is dead. As soon as a man dies his photographs begin to fade, or, if not to fade exactly, to undergo some subtle change. I have often amused myself by going through a strange photograph album and picking out the persons who are dead from their pictures. I hardly ever fail. Whence comes this change I cannot explain, but it is there, and I never saw it more plainly than in the case of the picture that Miss Fox brought to me.
New York, New York
23 Dec 1894, Sun • Page 17 A SAGE IN A TIGHT PLACE. PROF. ABDULLAH NEEDED ALL HIS WISDOM TO GET OUT. He Has Discovered That More Than Common Sense is Needed with a Woman – The Story of a Photograph Turned Down. READ FULL TEXT HERE
New York, New York
18 Feb 1894, Sun • Page 13 DOCTOR OF COMMON SENSE FOR A COMPLETE BUSINESS ABUDULLAH’S STOCK IS SIMPLE READ FULL TEXT HERE
New York, New York
08 Dec 1898, Thu • Page 3 ONE JOHN SMITH MISSING A HARLEM MYSTERY WITH LOVE, LAW AND NECROMANCY TRIMMINGS READ FULL TEXT
New York, New York
03 Aug 1899, Thu • Page 7 ASTROLOGER WHO WAS SWINDLED. The Stars Didn’t Warn Him of the Risk He Ran in Lending $80 to Customer. READ FULL TEXT
The articles are fascinating and read like stuff out of a TV movie ... there may be typos (it was very hard to read the blurry text in the newspaper articles and typed as fast as possible... could only take a few hours off work...but..way too interesting to not share right away with you all.
If anyone has a subscription to newspapers.com or ancestry.com there are more links.
UPDATE: Before reading the second part of this research, take into consideration that we already know Mitch Horowitz's
research about "Abdullah" being a possible a metaphorical composite
including Arnold Ford and that we are familiar with Margaret Ruth Broome
(a student of Neville's) account that he studied many subjects, became interested in the Rosicrucian Society, even taught astrology
before giving it up and that he didn't start lecturing until 1938 and finally that he mentioned many times that Abdullah, "knew the Law but not the Promise", (see Neville timeline
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