
Don't know if the boy owed one of the joints some big time markers or what but the book just seemed as if the writer was holed up in a downtown hotel room with a bunch of booze and old stories grinding out words per page until he could escape. Lots of "inside" lore for the squares back home apparently but really not as good as the hardboiled Las Vegas advise that you'd find in Green Felt Jungle for example. Ah well, we chippers are a jaded lot with our Splash Bar and Limo Stud legends. But!...Someone once asked me if I ever made any $ at my favorite casino game, blackjack. I guess I never figured it that way because I was having so much fun watching all the folks around me. Supose that's why I like pictures like the one of Cliff the Horseshoe dealer waiting on a player. He's got a rack of those Dieswirl chips, just the ones and fives though, guess the $25's were R-10 back then also. Of course Becky could have been using the greenies for teacakes for her dollies back at the Binion ranchhouse. You suppose?
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