The House Always Wins

How many times must the point be made? How many consecutive Monday morning venmos need to be sent before you understand that something is wrong. How many more interventions and priests confessions will it take? When is enough finally enough?

There’s always an alibi, isn’t there. 

The games are rigged, aren’t they. The refs got their own skin on the game. If the game’s clean, then it’s the players that are sandbaggin it. They didn’t show up that night or they were already thinking about the potential postgame social scene.

It’s never you though. 

God forbid, you and all your years of watching sports are never at fault. You cook up a good looking parlay. You think, “How could this possibly lose? It’s free money!”

You probably have a group chat dedicated to sports gambling. I’ll bet that the chat name has a padlock emoji in the title. You send your bet in the chat, one of your fellow sheep friends follows you, places the same bet.

“Hey that loOks PreTty gOod. I tHinK I’ll dO tHe SaMe.”

Congratulations, you’re a profit.

And then you weren’t. The bet didn’t hit. You didn’t win any money. But you weren’t wrong, your picks wronged you. It’s never your fault. It’s always something out of your control like a meaningless layup as time expires or a breakaway touchdown instead of taking a knee. It’s always that last leg in the 6-team parlay, huh. 

Yeah, bullshit. To all of it. 

Let me break this down simply for you: Vegas always wins. It’s not if, it’s when. There’s no science to say when they will beat you, but the longer you play the game, the bigger the target you wear.

To Vegas, you are nothing but an ATM. They can withdraw money anytime they want because they got you on a string. A fishing line. You get some free play, you win a couple bets, thinking Vegas is paying for your rent. Perhaps you won your first bet. You think gambling is easy. You think you got what it takes. You place a couple more.

You’re just a trout. 

Maybe you had enough of venmoing your bookie and decided it was time to join the empire and run your own book. 

That’s comedy.

You last maybe three weeks before you can’t even afford the shirt on your back. 

But how? Tell me, how are both book makers and gamblers on the book alike losing money? Because the whole thing is just one big coffee funnel that leads everyone back to Vegas. The house always wins because Vegas always knows.

Profit? Never heard of her. Nobody makes money from gambling. 

It’s like running away from a bear. You win by not losing as much as the guy next to you. 

Stop pretending that you know what you’re doing. Stop walking up and down the halls of your fraternity saying you got a lock for the night. And please, for the love of FUCK, stop telling chicks at the bar that you’re making money from gambling. That is someone’s daughter that you are being blatantly dishonest to.

No one knows anything. There are no experts, there is no science, there are no forecasts, there is just one truth: The house always wins because Vegas always knows. 

I am not saying don’t gamble. God no. By all means, gamble. For many of us, that’s the only way we can actually feel something. I spend close to _______ (insert some asinine amount of money) a weekend so that I can stress. I pay for the ulcers that grow in my stomach every time I watch Indiana basketball because I can’t grow enough of them. I’m addicted. And so are you.

I am 100% for the complicated reality of a sports gambler, I’m just saying you should know your place. You are a goldfish in the kitchen fish tank of the house of Vegas, paying endless rent and can be subject for eviction at any moment’s notice.

And on that note, tonight I like: 

Bucks -6 against Raptors

Brooklyn Nets ML

Miami Heat ML

Like I said, it’s a complicated reality.

Written by Henry Marken

I lost my pinky finger at age 4, but then found it again at a soup kitchen when I was 15. Survivor of a wild turkey attack (2008). I went to the University of Phoenix before it was cool to do college online. Currently in a lawsuit with Crayola after a devastating purple crayon incident.

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