fscobe144 | Frank Scoblete

Mr. Negativity

He was tall; he was overweight; he had a ponytail as many men who are losing their hair do. I guess the philosophy is to grow the most hair where you have hair and take away the fact that you have the least hair where you have the least hair. You can control the most hair but the least is problematic.

Maybe he was 50-years old; maybe more, maybe less.

The great dice controller Jerry “Stickman” and I were in Atlantic City for a week. We like to play early in the mornings when a few, a couple or one or no players are at the tables. Mondays and Tuesdays are the best days to get the type of table we like.

This day that man was at the end of the table. There were two other players at the table.

“Mr. Negativity,” said Stickman to me.

“He doesn’t seem happy,” I said. He did indeed have a sour look on his face.

He cashed in for one thousand dollars, not an overwhelmingly large sum yet he proceeded to make green ($25) and black ($100) bets — most of them on Crazy Crapper propositions with exceedingly high house edges.

He went through his money fast enough. In fact, he took out another thousand dollars having run out of money rather quickly.

I was up next to get the dice. I was standing at my normal spot, SL1 (next to the left arm of the stick man) and I put up my Pass Line bet.

“Who’s rolling?” he asked the dealer.

“Frank,” said the dealer. The dealer nodded at me.

I established my point, a 6

“Hard eight for one hundred dollars,” he said.

He glared at me. That was weird. Why would the guy glare at me when he was betting on me?

I took the dice; set them in my 3-V, aimed, swung my right arm slowly and released. The dice hit the wall then settled a few inches away.

“Eight! Eight the hard way!” said the dealer.

“Let it ride,” growled Mr. Negativity. He now had $1,000 on the hard 8. A win would mean a whopping $10,000 in his pocket.

“I took the dice; set them, aimed, swung my arm, released the dice. They flew slowly through the air, bounced on the layout, hit the back wall and died.

“Eight! Another hard way eight!” said the dealer.

“Down on my hard eight,” snickered Mr. Negativity. His upper lip curled somewhat.

The dealer pushed $10,000 in orange chips to him; he scowled at me and walked away.

“Pleasant guy,” said Stickman. “Glad he left. Man is he Mr. Negativity.”

Later that morning, after a delicious and relaxed breakfast, Stickman and I checked out the craps tables. Mr. Negativity was at the end of the table with two “reserved” signs on either side of him. He was betting big money now – probably based on his 10 thousand jackpot of the early morning.

When he saw me he snarled; I swear, he snarled. He threw a few times; hit some of the Crazy Crapper bets he was on, sevened out, took his chips and stormed off the table.

“At what point does Mr. Negativity lose his money?” asked Stickman.

“Late this afternoon,” I laughed.

“I say tomorrow morning he’ll be cashing in for a thousand,” said Stickman. “What a rotten attitude he brings to the table.”

We didn’t see Mr. Negativity the rest of the week. I am guessing this guy is an addicted gambler and one who enjoys the awe other players show him when he bets huge amounts.

Mr. Negativity was a sad and angry man. There was no joy whatsoever in his play.

Frank Scoblete’s new books are “I Am a Dice Controller: Inside the World of Advantage-Play Craps”; “Confessions of a Wayward Catholic” and “I Am a Card Counter: Inside the World of Advantage-Play Blackjack.” All available from Amazon.com, Kindle, Barnes and Noble, and at bookstores. Visit Frank’s web site at www.frankscoblete.com.

Times, They are a Changin’

If you told me 10 or more years ago that I would become a birder (as in a bird watcher) I would have said you were nuts. Only maniacs want to go out into the forest or parks or bays to look at birds. Seriously now, look at birds? Insane.

But now I am ambling through some of the most beautiful parks and bays on Long Island with dozens of birders, and with my wife the Beautiful AP—and I am a truly happy man, a truly happy birder.

I never knew we had such beauty on Long Island. It’s as if I’ve moved to a whole new locale. In a way, I have. I am now one of those nutty birders out there with my binoculars and my special birding hat and when I see one of these beauties (even ugly birds are beautiful) I get a real charge.

I’ll admit in those long-gone years of my birding disdain I figured incorrectly that all birders were deranged. They must be wackos of the wackiest way to do what they did, so I thought. Having met them, most are smart, interesting and committed people – although one or two or a few are indeed out of their minds. Still, isn’t that true of most groups – a few maniacs interspersed with smart, interesting and committed people?

We go out birding on Sundays at 9 a.m. We’ve been to Francis J. Levy Park, Hempstead Lake State Park, Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge, Jones Beach West End, Mill Pond Park, Massapequa Preserve, Point Lookout Town Park and Lido Preserve, and indeed more are on the upcoming schedule. The Beautiful AP and I are even contemplating going to Costa Rica on a birding expedition.

I’ve seen all sorts of birds on these walks; colorful songbirds, wading birds and a variety of those awesome predators of the skies—hawks! One was sitting atop of a tree munching (this is indelicate) on another bird. An amazing sight! This was at Jones Beach West End.

I do not know the names of all the birds I’ve seen. Yes, there are birders who are experts and they identify the birds and easily describe their behaviors, calls, plumage changes and migratory patterns. I listen and try to learn, but I am a slow learner in this field.

Sundays have become “date days” for the Beautiful AP and me. We go birding then go out for a romantic lunch. Yes, a decade or more ago, I would have called this a cheap date. But times have changed. Now with my wife at my side, I happily clad myself in garb laden with pockets and strap on a water bottle and binoculars over that, to tread through mud and bush to spy on winged creatures—and I am ever surprised by what I see.

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Not by Bread Alone

Look, I don’t hate bread. It’s the staff of life but most people don’t use staffs anymore and certainly one does not need a staff in a restaurant or bread before the meal. That no-bread-before-a-meal goes from dining out in a diner or going to the fanciest gourmet rooms.

But I may be alone in this because bread is almost universally served before diners even get to eat the real meal. And, my Lord of Hosts, people devour the bread as if it is the Eucharistic overload!

Come on, you can buy most of these loaves in any decent bakery and they certainly do not cost the ingredients and the artistry of the restaurant’s chef in the making of them.

Let us say you go to a gourmet restaurant and the price of an entrée is $30-$50, plus add an appetizer and a salad and maybe dessert; but you gobble down slices of bread and gobs of butter and/or oil before this great repast? Aren’t you just dulling your appetite and taking up room in your stomach with relatively inexpensive drivel as opposed to the sumptuous meal the chef is making especially for you?

What a waste!

Last night did me in at Uva Rossa, my favorite Malverne village restaurant. A couple seated at the table adjacent to me ate three loaves — three whole loaves! — of the Italian bread before the meal. They only ate one-third of their meals. Uva Rossa has great food but the bread is, well, just bread.

My grandchildren are bread freaks and my daughter-in-law and my son only allow them one to two slices. If allowed I think the two of them would wander the restaurant looking to steal bread from other people’s tables. Along with giant mounds of butter.

So here is my proposition: Eat the meal first. If at the end of it you feel the need for some bread, fine, eat some. By doing this you have experienced what you came to the restaurant for — some good food made by a professional chef. You can also tell the waiters that they can bring bread when you ask for it but not before. That will stop your reflex to eat some.

Remember: It is not by bread alone that man exists. Take that saying to heart.

[My new book is Confessions of a Wayward Catholic! Available on Amazon.com, Kindle and at bookstores.]

The United Kingdom

THE UNITED KINGDOM TOUR

“In thunder, lightning and in rain!” chanted Shakespeare’s three bearded, baleful witches in his masterful play “The Tragedy of Macbeth.”

Those lines and those horrifying characters were a part of the opening scene of the play. The witches’ intent was to lure Macbeth into thoughts of murdering the rightful monarch King Duncan, which Macbeth eventually did — the murderous thoughts and the actual killing. Obviously it didn’t turn out well for Macbeth or his wife Lady Macbeth since the play has “tragedy” in the title. That means the lead character dies. No spoiler there therefore.

Actually the witches could have just taken a vacation in Miami because if my experience of Scotland is any indication sooner or later Macbeth, Duncan, Lady Macbeth and all the Scottish characters in the play (plus the audience if the play were performed in Scotland) would have drowned. That’s how much it rained on our 17-day trip around the United Kingdom — and why it is called the “united anything” beats me. Ireland is its own country. Okay, so Northern Ireland isn’t but they aren’t a happy lot there. Scotland is taking a vote soon to leave the “united kingdom.” I know nothing about Wales except I met a lovely couple from there — Irish refugees fleeing the high taxes in Ireland.

Here is something fascinating to note: In Ireland and Scotland, many citizens referred to the American Revolution as an important moment in history — for them! I mean they just came out with it, just like that (snap your fingers), unsolicited, when they found out I was from the United States. “Your revolution paved the way,” one woman said.

The American Revolution is indeed a powerful emotional symbol for many in the United Kingdom. Truly, this is a marvel. Why? Because you almost never hear Americans talk about our “revolution” except when it comes to designer wear. Indeed in universities throughout our country the architects of our revolution are looked upon with disdain. Many professors and their lemming-like students refer to our founders as “dead white men” as if this appellation is a curse leveled on us by the bearded witches of our own past.

There were four of us on this journey; my wife the Beautiful AP and our friends Jerry “Stickman” and his sainted wife Tres (someday I will explain why she is “sainted”). Jerry and Tres have visited over 71 countries now. They have visited all 50 states. They are the adults of the travel world while AP and I are infants.

I spent so many days in casinos in the past 25 years, in the beginning mostly from economic necessity, that now I feel like a bull stomping down the streets of Pamplona. I am free! I don’t need to do the heavy casino lifting anymore. Our kids are grown men in their 30’s; our house is paid off; I have enough money (I hope) to last me till my last breath and my writing is going along just fine (thank you) so the advantage-play casino life has faded for me. I want to see the United States (38 states so far) and the world.

“Nothing is but what is not,” spoke Macbeth; a quote that fits both Ireland and Scotland. Beautiful greenery, scenery, great rolling country sides along with clouds, winds and rains almost every day of our trip to the hills, the dales and the shores. When the sun peeked out for a minute or two the temperatures soared by about seven degrees. Sadly the sun did not stay out for long.

We started our trip in London on May 31, spending four days there. Believe it or not (in fact, I couldn’t believe it) Jerry and Tres had never been to London so the Beautiful AP and I were the tour guides.

We toured Westminster Abbey. Mind blowing — next trip I take four full days and really read and see everything. On my two trips to Westminster Abbey I saw the graves or memorials of Chaucer, Shakespeare, Jane Austen, DH Lawrence, Lord Byron, Keats, Shelley, David Livingstone, Dryden, Faraday, Haden, William Blake, Churchill, Sir Isaac Newton, Longfellow, Noel Coward, Laurence Olivier, Tennyson, Alexander Pope, Charles Dickens, Lowell, Milton, A.E. Housman, Henry James, Thackeray, Dylan Thomas, Oscar Wilde, Wordsworth and most amazingly Charles Darwin, he of evolution fame. Oh, yes, there were notable English Kings and Queens, Princes, Princesses, Lords and Ladies, Prime Ministers, knights, Earls and religious leaders.

In London even if there for a day, go see Churchill’s underground War Room. We also visited the Tower of London (a must see — with tour guides who are not tour guides but military men in the service of the Queen and these folks actually live there), St. Paul’s Cathedral (a must see) and we rode the giant London Eye (a monstrous Ferris Wheel) with amazing views of all of London.

We had delicious Pub lunches, great dinners; the best of which at an Indian restaurant Millbank Spice in a not-so-great neighborhood. Walking back to our hotel, we saw a guy bleeding from a small scalp wound as he sprawled drunkenly on the sidewalk while his blitzed “buddy” staggered around and begged for money. I also discovered that in this city of “no guns” there had been 125 murders using guns. But don’t worry you anti-gun people, only the criminals have guns in London.

At the end of this article I will give you the ratings that each of us gave the various things we did; the places we saw and the restaurants where we ate.

ANCHORS AWAY

Our cruise would be on the Ruby Princess and would encompass 12 days. Those of you who have been on these cruise tours know that what you see are brushstrokes of the places and countries visited. You don’t get to spend all that much time in any given place. It is the hors-d’oeuvres as opposed to a full meal.

On Wednesday, June 4 we left London and headed first to Stonehenge, where giant stones had been placed in a circle with other giant stones placed on top of some of those giant stones. We were not allowed to get close as folks did in the past. On this windswept (hurricane-like winds!) horribly wet day we trudged around the stones, our umbrellas turning inside out with every step since the winds came from every direction. Not pleasant.

Nobody really knows the meaning of the stones. It is possible that they represent some religious and/or sacrificial design. Or they may simply be primitive people saying, “Og, let us put one big stone on top of the other for the hell of it.” Some of the tourists were convinced they came from another world. I wonder if that other world is as wet as this particular place. I did buy an umbrella, a hooded sweatshirt and a shot glass in the gift shop.

Then to Southampton where the Ruby Princess waited. That ship was huge! It could house over 3,000 guests and had 1,200 crew members. It was as tall as a skyscraper and far longer than three football fields.

AP and I went on only one cruise before this, to Alaska, and it was not overwhelming. The scenery of Alaska was great, in fact at times it was overwhelming. But the shore excursions were mostly in towns that really don’t exist and are opened in the summer for the cruises. One town was almost nothing but dozens of jewelry shops. In short, no one lives there all year.

We had one amazing experience in Alaska, seeing a whale and her calf within three feet of our boat; you could reach out and touch it; and in one town we learned all about prostitution for the miners. Indeed, one woman in the 1800’s charged $1,000 a trick! The Beautiful AP and I commented that this woman must have been amazing. Then we saw a picture of her. One of the ugliest women ever; Guinness Book of World Records ugly. Burly, scowly, scary; she was more the monster under the bed than a woman you’d want in bed. Maybe the miners paid her not to have sex with them.

AP disliked the Alaska cruise quite a bit so I figured she’s dislike this one too. Thankfully that didn’t happen. All the sights we saw in England, Ireland and Scotland were real; they didn’t just exist for tourists. Some were actually amazing and overwhelming. Others were, well, disgusting.

The mini-suite we had was composed of two rooms with a real bathroom. A real bathroom means a real tub and a real shower. In our Alaskan trip we only had a balcony room and the shower could fit your leg and perhaps an arm. There was no bathtub. If you are going to cruise I recommend the mini-suite because it actually feels like a real hotel room.

Jerry, Tres, the Beautiful AP and I enjoyed sitting on the balcony, looking at the ocean and the land zipping by if we were close to shore. A fine bottle of wine, great conversations – as close to perfect as you can get. It was worth working like a dog since I was 12 to now be able to enjoy this.

Our first stop was Guernsey, a beautiful island owned by the Queen (I think that means it is not a part of the United Kingdom but is a part of the Queen’s “whatever”) that had been occupied by the Germans in World War II.

Okay, what follows is our individual ratings of the places we saw and the tours on which we went with some comments at times from me. The ratings go from F to A+.

May 31 to June 4, 2014 LONDON

WESTMINSTER ABBEY
Jerry: A
Tres: A+
AP: A+
Scobe: A+

BIG BEN
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A
Scobe: A

THE LONDON EYE
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A-
Scobe: A

THE TOWER OF LONDON
Jerry: B+
Tres: A
AP: A-
Scobe: B+

THE SERVANT OF THE QUEEN (Tour Officer)
Jerry: A+
Tres: A+
AP: A+
Scobe: A+

PRIME MERIDIAN

This was Jerry’s thing. The longitude equals zero here. My opinion? You walk up a long hill to see a golden line and then you wait on que to take a picture. There is a museum but it was closed when we went there.

Jerry: A
Tres: C
AP: B
Scobe: D

SHARD RESTAURANT

This is the new “in” place in London. It is an 87-story skyscraper that resembles a shard of glass. We went for lunch at the restaurant but we couldn’t get in because Jerry was wearing white sneakers. Then we went to dinner there that night. The view was amazing bu the meal and services were second rate.

Jerry: D
Tres: D
AP: C-
Scobe: D+

BOAT RIDE ON THE THAMES
Jerry: A-
Tres: B+
AP: B+
Scobe: A-

TRAFALGAR SQUARE
Jerry: C
Tres: A
AP: A-
Scobe: A-

BOYDS RESTAURANT
Jerry: B
Tres: B+
AP: A-
Scobe: A-

ST. PAUL’S CATHEDRAL
Jerry: A-
Tres: A+
AP: A+
Scobe: A

LES MISERABLES

I’ve seen this show three times. This was the best of the productions. Magnificent!

Jerry: A
Tres: A+
AP: A+
Scobe: A+

RED LION PUB
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A-
Scobe: B+

BLACKFRIAR

The tables were so small they looked more like Frisbees. The meal was so-so but we did get to see a couple sitting at the Frisbee next to us who went on a half hour orgy of foreplay. Drool was on their chins. They left at separate times so Jerry figured they were having an affair.

Jerry: A-
Tres: B
AP: B+
Scobe: C

THE SECRET LONDON WALKING TOUR
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A-
Scobe: B+

DOUBLETREE WESTMINSTER HOTEL
Jerry: A
Tres: A+
AP: A
Scobe: A+

DOUBLETREE RESTAURANT
Jerry: B
Tres: B+
AP: B+
Scobe: B+

MILLBANK SPICE (Indian restaurant)
Jerry: A+
Tres: A+
AP: A+
Scobe: A+

CHURCHILL’S WAR ROOM
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A+
Scobe: A+

June 5, 2014: GUERNSEY

TOUR GUIDE
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A
Scobe: A

NAZI OCCUPATION MUSEUM
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A+
Scobe: A-

(It depressed me seeing all the Nazi stuff and realizing these poor Guernsey folks were crushed under the boot of the monsters. The minus in my rating came from the mustiness of the place.)

UNDERGROUND NAZI HOSPITAL
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A
Scobe: B

(This place is nothing but huge, damp, wet underground tunnels that the Nazis built to cure their sick and injured. Almost no one survived a stay in these tunnels. You came in with a cold and died from pneumonia. Awful, awful place.)

THE ISLAND OF GUERNSEY
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A
Scobe: A

(Just beautiful even though the roads are so narrow that you have to sometimes drive on the sidewalks! Wonderful cliffs with the waves crashing on the rocks.)

June 6, 2014: CORK IRELAND

Rain, rain and more rain and then heavy rain in the realm of Noah’s flood. I kept looking around for Russell Crowe but I think he’s Australian.

KINSALE

Little waterside town. The Cathedral was closed so we went to a small café for breakfast (our second breakfast of the day — the motto on a cruise is “I eat therefore I am”). The name of the café was Mother Hubbard’s. We met a couple of older Irishmen there. We had a pleasant conversation and then we paid the bill. Jerry wound up paying twice as much as I did. He was shafted.

Jerry: C
Tres: A-
AP: A-
Scobe: B

BLARNEY CASTLE AND GROUNDS
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A
Scobe: A

Amazing grounds even though the rain was so heavy you tromped through tiny lakes. Beautiful (wet) estate; (wet) flowering gardens; (wet) small streams getting bigger by the second and a lake that seemed ready to break its banks. Just magnificent and did I mention wet?

AP, Jerry and Tres made their way to the top to kiss the Blarney Stone. I can’t walk those curving steps because of a horrible event in my childhood.

Now the Blarney Stone is supposed to give shy people the gift of gab. You crawl under the stone and then you kiss it. Hundreds of thousands of lips have kissed that stone. Lips with herpes; lips with pus dripping from them; lips with leprosy; lips with syphilis; lips that are bleeding; lips that…you get the picture. Thankfully the Beautiful AP only pretended to kiss the stone. Nevertheless I have been slyly checking to see if anything sprouts or cracks on her lips.

PRINCESS CRUISES SUPPLIED LUNCH
Jerry: B
Tres: C
AP: D
Scobe: C

We had a bad waitress. I told her I couldn’t eat mushrooms and she came back with mushrooms all over my chicken. When I reminded her of this she said, “Oh, yeah, right.” And left the plate! I called over the manager and told him I couldn’t eat mushrooms but I didn’t blame the waitress.

The cruise folks hired an Irish singer whose speaker system was so loud you could hear his heart beating; it was like being at a wedding. You could not hear anyone at your table speak. They did bring in two young ladies to do Irish step-dancing. They were good. The singer was louder as the day wore on. By the end of the meal it was unanimous that if we could put him to death we would.

THE SINGER
Jerry: C
Tres: D
AP: C-
Scobe: D

June 7, 2014: DUBLIN

The Irish like to drink. The Irish like to fight. The pub is as sacred as the church to them. Yes, stereotypes. And we in enlightened America know that all stereotypes are false.

But here is what I found — the damn stereotype might be true. Don’t just take it from me. The Irish men I talked to all agreed that they loved to drink; loved to hang out in pubs and loved a good fight now and then.

We toured Dublin, a city I totally disliked, a city with 1,000 pubs, a city with vomit trails in alleys and on sidewalks. A city that was like a dirty, crummy, crumbling neighborhood in Manhattan that tourists are told to skip.

Something else I noticed, a huge number of men seemed to have broken noses from (I guess fights in the past.). You could see those squashed noses flat against their faces, just like boxers’ noses that have been broken in fights. Dare I repeat el stereotypo here? (Look I am just telling you what I was told and what I saw.)

We visited St Patrick’s Cathedral — a truly dirty, coal begrimed house of worship for people not afraid of black lung disease. Either that or God must be very busy performing miracles in this Cathedral so worshippers don’t kick the bucket during services.

ST.PATRICK’S CATHEDRAL
Jerry: B
Tres: A
AP: B
Scobe: C-

CITY DRIVE TOUR (Jerry and Tres):
Jerry: A-
Tres: B+

DUBLIN CASTLE (AP and Scobe)
AP: A-
Scobe: B+

CAFÉ: LE PETIT PARISIEN
AP: A
Scobe: A

June 8, 2014, BELFAST

Northern Ireland, seat of “the troubles” for centuries. Catholics versus Protestants. Our tour guide Billy (an amazing tour guide; funny, witty, knowledgeable) said, “It got so bad that Jews were asked if they were Protestant Jews or Catholic Jews.”

This was a nicer city than Dublin but still it just didn’t have “it” as a city. Also, fewer broken noses than Dublin but there were still some. Not as much vomit either, although we did see some blood in an alleyway. “Ah,” said Billy. “Another broken nose!”

TOUR GUIDE BILLY
Jerry: A+
Tres: A+
AP: A+
Scobe A+

CITY HALL TOUR
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A
Scobe: A

CITY WALK
Jerry: B+
Tres: B
AP: B+
Scobe: B

PUB VISIT
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: B+
Scobe B+
(I saved one of our fellow tourists from standing in a puddle of vomit outside the Pub.)

THE CITY OF BELFAST
Jerry: B+
Tres: B+
AP: B+
Scobe: C

June 9, 2014, GLASGOW SCOTLAND

Okay, bottom line — rain. We did a hop-on, hop-off bus tour but it rained so much that most of the tour took place indoors although I foolishly tried to brave out the rain on the open air top of the bus. How do you spell S-T-U-P-I-D?

CATHEDRAL NECROPOLIS
(This is the “city of the dead” as there are tombs in the church, just outside the church and a cemetery on the hill next to the church.)
Jerry: B
Tres: C+
AP: B+
Scobe: C

ON AND OFF BUS TOUR
Jerry: B
Tres: B-
AP: B-
Scobe: C

CAFÉ SOURCE
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A
Scobe: A

THE CITY OF GLASGOW
Jerry: A
Tres: C+
AP: C+
Scobe: B-

June 11, 2014 ORKNEY ISLANDS

SKARA BRAE

This is what I love, ancient ruins. These are 5,000 years old. That’s three thousand years before Christ. This is a must see for anyone who has even the slightest imagination. You are looking at Neolithic life.

Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A
Scobe: A+

THE STONES

These stones are pre-Stonehenge and we were able to walk around them. Our guide told us that many theories have been proposed to explain what these stones mean. He then said, “For all we know these were a part of a huge barbecue pit.”

Jerry: B
Tres: B-
AP: B
Scobe: B+

KIRKWALL
Jerry: A
Tres: B+
AP: A-
Scobe: A-

June 12, 2014, INVERGORDON

Jerry and Tres went on a boat tour of Loch Ness and we wound up meeting them on the shores of that lake. Loch (Lake) Ness is a big lake and I could see how a monster could live there. I doubt that one does since it would need a whole bunch more to be able to keep reproducing. But it was fun to see and I also picked up four stones for my grandchildren from “the lake where the monster is.” I gave each of them one and I kept two for myself. I divided based on body weight.

BOAT TOUR
Jerry: A
Tres: A

CULLODEN MOOR
Jerry: A
Tres: A

URQUHART CASTLE
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A
Scobe: A

CAWDOR CASTLE
AP: A+
Scobe: A+

LOCH NESS
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A-
Scobe: A+

TOUR OF INVERNESS
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A
Scobe: B

June 13, 2014, EDINBURGH (pronounced Edinboro)

This city blew AP and me away! It is magnificent with structures that are old and mind boggling. It has a huge castle on top of a high hill that also served as a city behind walls. We spent about three hours there (in rain of course) and barely got to see everything there was to see. Jerry and Tres went on a city bus tour; AP and I toured on our own. We did see them at the castle.

EDINBURGH CASTLE
Jerry: A-
Tres: B+
AP: A-
Scobe: A+

MARY KINGS’ CLOSE
Cities are built on top of cities. This is an underground city and fascinating to see.

AP: A
Scobe: A

CITY TOUR
Jerry: A
Tres: A

HOWIE’S CAFÉ
AP: A
Scobe: A

CITY OF EDINBURGH
Jerry: A-
Tres: A
AP: A+
Scobe: A+

On June 15, 2014 Jerry and Tres went to Paris. It was a three hour bus ride to Paris and a three hour bus ride back. You got to spend about four hours in the city. AP and I decided to have a relaxing day of swimming, eating and playing trivia with the few remaining passengers.

Jerry and Tres both gave Paris an A+. But they did get to meet a snotty French waiter who lived up to the “snotty-French-waiter” stereotype.

I never did get to see if the Scottish actually live up to their reputation of being cheap. So I can’t say of that stereotype has any truth to it. We didn’t see many men in kilts with the exception of those who were entertainers. The people were quite friendly and I had no problem with their accents. (They had no problem with my Brooklynese either.)

Of course, a cruise (as I said earlier) merely brushstrokes the places you visit. Of all the places we saw, Edinburgh and Orkney Island were the mind blowers (and, naturally, London as well).

And what of the Ruby Princess? A great ship with great entertainment, a great mini-suite, and our two favorite waiters Elvis (yes, his real name is Elvis) and his assistant Adrian. I also liked the head waiter who made sure that I was mushroom free!

All in all, a wonderful trip.

[Read my new book Confessions of a Wayward Catholic.]

Thirty-Three Years Before the Class

Teachers are going back to school now and on the Facebook pages so many of them are expressing great joy about going back and great joy about meeting their students. What is wrong with these people?

Now I taught for 33 years. Since I’ve started posting on Facebook, many of my former students have written or emailed me saying that I was a good teacher (actually “great” is the word many of them used but I am a humble man; kind of like Moses who was the “humblest man in the world” so I won’t brag).

One former student mentioned that I really never had discipline problems in my class.

Well, that is true and not true. In 33 years, I never had to send a kid to the Dean of Students; I never wrote a disciplinary referral on a kid; and I don’t think I ever yelled at a kid. Of course, I did have some kids that were not easy to handle; two of whom I must say honestly I despised; a Neanderthal beast of a girl and a jittery, demented, poisonous snake of a boy.

The monstrous brute of a girl always tried to take the class away from me.

If you think of your class as a string orchestra, then I was the lead string instrument. I wanted everyone to follow my rhythm. A disruptive student, your average, everyday shit head in other words, would try to take that rhythm from you. If such a ploppy did that, you would lose control of the class and, perhaps, have a battle on your hands all year. No teacher wants to battle students though many feel as if they are forced into such battles.

I always felt that my problem students were my problems and I never wanted any administrators to ever (ever, ever) be involved with me. For two reasons, if I couldn’t handle a student, how could someone who fled the classroom handle that student? I also felt it was a sign of defeat to allow a student to defeat me. Two simple reasons.

So this bulbous female barbarian would always make comments and try to take the classroom rhythm from me and bring it to her. Keep this in mind. I never worried about a kid who cracked a joke at my expense. If the joke were funny I laughed. If it weren’t funny I just rolled my eyes, looked at a few other kids in the class as if to say, “God is he an idiot!” (That, of course, connected me to those particular students; gave us a bond so to speak.)

She — S-H-E — was hard to contain. I didn’t crush her until February. That was a long, long time. I was teaching something or other and she just shouted out, “Scobe, you’re a dick!” I could feel the tension shoot through the students. Would this be the moment I sent a disciplinary referral for being so insulted by such a hellhound? Hell no. When she said, “Scobe, you’re a dick!” I just turned to her and said casually, “Use my first name, Big!” The class exploded in laughter and this beast was finished for the rest of the year. (These were seniors, not little kids.) She could find no one who wanted to listen to her after that slaughter.

You can read more about her in my book “The Virgin Kiss” as well as some other interesting (and insane) students I taught.

The boy was off the wall. The brute of a girl picked her shots to go after me, but this guy was wired at all times. Tall and skinny, eyes blazing, he had no control over himself. Luckily, his string instrument was broken so he could not even attempt to dominate the class. In addition, not only did I despise him but so did every student in the class. Usually students enjoy watching maniacs acting like maniacs but no one enjoyed this creep.

Finally one day just before the Christmas holiday one of the football players in my class – a big and I mean a really BIG kid – turned to slinky and said, “You open your fucking mouth again and I am going to rip your fucking heart out of your fucking chest.” He meant it too because this football player had a reputation for being violent. He and I got along great. And what happened to wired-up slinky? He started cutting and finally never showed his face. No loss.

I will say that I did like most of my students – and I taught around 6,000 of them. There were only a few I truly disliked. I never let them know it. But in the car on the way to school I would act out scenarios so I wouldn’t act them out in class. “Timmy, you are the stupidest fucking jerk I have ever seen. Is your mother an ape or something?”

Of course, I never said this to Timmy. I never “looked it” to Timmy. As far as Timmy was concerned, I liked him. Generally the Timmys liked me or, at least, they were neutral towards me.

I do not deny that I now feel I had a meaningful teaching career thanks to my former students who have written to me. I didn’t always feel that way. Often I thought, “What the hell am I doing here? I’m throwing sand into the wind. I’m supposed to be a famous writer; not some teacher slogging through a mundane career.” Well, that sand seems to have had an effect.

But let’s be serious. Only a teacher knows the truth of the following statement: Teaching is a bitch! It is really, really hard work. It is draining. You are on the line every minute of every class – every second of every class.

One of my teacher friends, the late Gene Brown (who died way too young) used to say, “We are selling a product they don’t want.” For most kids that would be true. The kids on their way to Harvard often think of their teachers as stepping stones to good grades. The kids on the way to the streets thought of their teachers as idiots suppressing the students’ enjoyment of causing chaos.

The others? Just wandering through their teenage years which can indeed be very tough years.

I saw many people come from other professions into teaching; from business, law, nursing, law enforcement and then get their asses kicked. Kids can be sharks. They smell blood and the teacher gets eaten. It was not unusual to see some teachers – and some of these new teachers were prized at their former jobs – come into the teachers’ lounge and cry. Don’t think just women; mind you, men too – often real man’s man types of men.

You had to be damned good at teaching just to be competent. So those teachers expressing rapture at the thought of going back to the classroom also know, “Christ it is going to be some haul.” The best of the best teachers think this. Those who get daily buffets know this in a really, really profound way. Why? Because they can be torn apart and have been torn apart. They can be crushed by students just as I had crushed that brute of a girl.

So I do salute the teachers who are going back to one of the toughest jobs imaginable. I also know that many people who have never taught in a public school think what teachers do is easy. Well, come on folks, step into the lions’ den and see how you do.

I’ve spoken before audiences of 1,500 people. No sweat. I’ve written 35 books. No sweat. I’ve been on television plenty of times. No sweat. But I have also sat up on Labor Day weekend, knowing that the next week I would face young men and women that I had to teach; that I had to control; that I had to try to make their high school experiences worth their while. In short, I had some of their life in my hands. You bet I sweated.

So I salute all our teachers’ courage and dedication.

[Read my book Confessions of a Wayward Catholic!]

Kars 4 Kids: The Dreaded Earworm

I hate the Kars 4 Kids earworm – or as its website calls it – the “jingle.” This charity asks you to donate your car for a tax credit to help the kids. May they be damned!

I went to the site looking to identify the songwriter of this horrifying “jingle” (the ultimate earworm), but the site merely says it was written by a volunteer sometime in the late 1990s. That volunteer was probably some malevolent kid who well knew that his great creative moment would henceforth bring misery to the world.

I did some other research discovering that the charity is a religious one whose mission seems to be to raise funds so that non-religious Jewish kids can go to a camp that teaches them to be religious Jewish kids who drive cars. I have nothing against such a camp; to each his or her own – as long as no “jingle” is associated with it. However, the Kars 4 Kids company has been sued several times and has been fined by the courts. (I wonder if K4K was able to pay the courts in automotive parts instead of cash.)

I never found what I was looking for – the identity of the misshapen monster that composed the “jingle.”

When I hear the opening bars on the car radio early in the morning as we are returning from the pool from our daily swim, both my wife, the Beautiful AP, and I quickly shoot out our hands to turn off the radio. We have injured ourselves many times when our hands collided.

But we must (we must!) shut that damn “jingle” off before it possesses us.

If you have heard the “jingle” (unless you are short of intellect and a common humanity) I am sure you hate it too. I am sure it grates on you and might even cause you to have hateful feelings toward that songwriter and this charity too. If not, there must be something wrong with you.

I am a non-hateful man and I am not calling for any harm to come to that songwriting snake (just yet); nor do I want him to be guillotined (at the moment) or executed by firing squad (soon) or sent to Guantanamo Bay (tomorrow) as the terrorists are being released.

I simply want him to apologize for writing that “jingle” and promise to nevermore write another one. And, please, take the damn thing off the air – or else!

[My new book is Confessions of a Wayward Catholic!]

Income Inequality

The new buzz word is “income inequality” which simply means people don’t make the same amount of money or even close to the same amount of money for the various jobs they do or for the welfare and food stamps they get as other people do. In short, some people have a lot, some have enough and some income “equalists” believe others just don’t have enough.

The thrust of the argument is that the wealthy – meaning anyone who makes a lot more than anyone else – must fork over more of their money so that those who don’t make as much will start to catch up. After all, the heads of the giant corporations, domestic and international make a ton of money, far, far (add some more fars to this) more than someone flipping burgers at wherever-the-hell burger flippers flip burgers to earn their own burgers.

I recall when I was a young man – really young like 18 or 19, working in the New York City Housing Authority at a crummy housing project (Smith Houses) making $60 a week and the bosses, who wore suits no less, made far, far more than I did and just seemed to earn this money by walking around the projects watching people such as me and others breaking their backs.

Seriously, back to our burger flipper who might work exhausting 16 hour days (he’s madly motivated), seven days a week (he’s nuts), meaning putting in 112 hours of grueling effort (really, really nuts), more time spent than billionaire Bill Gates spends, but only earning (if he’s lucky) maybe $12 per hour. That comes to a mere $1,344 per week or almost $70,000 a year, far less than George Soros or either of the Koches. Come on. Is this fair to the flipper? Of course not. It’s income inequality all the way.

If we look at our flipper and realize that chances are he only works a 40 hour week (he’s sane) then his pay is a paltry $480 a week or about $25,000 a year. My Lord he must be starving on those wages as must his children – if he has children or if he’s even old enough to even think about having children since most burger-flipping jobs tend to go to the young, like high school and college young; that age.

Young people don’t make as much as older people so when you look at statistics that show you the fast-food industry or this or that company only pays thus and such an amount to their employees you do have to ask yourself this question: How old are their employees (on average)? Are these the type of people who 20-30 years from now will be quite comfortable in their lives?

Let me just point to myself for a minute as I am my own best example most of the time. When I was a little kid my family lived in a “cold water” flat. That meant exactly what it sounds like – a cold water flat. Indeed, two of the rooms were not heated in winter. Although both my parents worked, my mother and father really didn’t start making it until I was long-graduated from college. Thankfully my college was paid for with an academic scholarship. In point of fact, I was the first person in our extended family to go to college.

Still I did work during college despite having a scholarship because during this time my father and mother were in bad times, so I sent most of my paycheck home – in fact, come to think of it I’ve been working since I was 12 years old (I need a nap). Most of my jobs made me an income that was “in-equal” to all the people who hired me. Those people made much more money than I did.

And that’s the way it goes, to coin a phrase.

(My new book is Confessions of a Wayward Catholic!)

Free College is an Awful Idea

Some politicians (and student advocates) are proposing that we send people to college for free.

Dumb idea.

Aside from the obvious fact that it would cost a fortune and probably add to our almost $20,000,000,000,000 debt (did I get enough zeros in that? the number is so big I can’t comprehend it) it would probably add even more non-college-ready-students to the “how can such an idiot be in college?” ranks.

I am coming to the conclusion that we should eliminate about 50 percent of the college students from the college ranks. But what should we do with all those people?

Here is my plan (it does have some bugs I will admit):

*Anyone who serves four years in the armed forces gets four years of free college

*Anyone who serves five years in the military gets four years of free college and one free year in a master’s program

*Anyone who serves eight years in the armed forces gets four years of free college and one free year in a master’s degree program and three years in a PhD program

Who pays for all of this? The military through a (sort of) Medicare-type deduction from a soldier’s pay – maybe make it 50-50 with a government hand out.

I dismiss the idea that we would be dealing with individuals of more advanced ages in the general college population. Education at the highest levels should not be age specific. In fact, we could use more adults on our college campuses.

Now, we would have to come up with plans for married individuals and such but I think these plans could be easily worked out. Remember, we are having children later in life and we are living far longer than ever before. Going to college in one’s late 20’s or early 30’s is not a big deal anymore.

This plan would prevent those “I can’t believe that girl is in college” problem and probably cut enrollments quite a lot. When our members of the armed forces are ready to enter college they would actually be ready to enter college, having experienced the real world.

Rather than prattle on, that is my tentative plan. Could that work better than the absurd idea of sending everyone to college for “free”? Probably.

[Read my new book Confessions of a Wayward Catholic!]

The Trinity of Gambling Perceptions

Purists: I guess if you are a purist all bets where the house has an edge over you is a “sucker” bet. Even of that edge is miniscule, your expectation is to lose – therefore, you make the bet and you are a sucker.

2. House Edgers: However, I think the common perception is somewhat different than the purist’s perception. The common perception is that low-house-edge bets are okay – such as playing basic strategy at blackjack; pass, don’t pass, come, don’t come, with odds at craps; baccarat’s bank or player bets would be “good” bets as well.

Loss Per Hour: There is a third way as well, a wrinkle if you will – you must consider loss per hour. A mini-baccarat game can have low-house-edge bets but the speed of the game is such that this small edge can rip away at a bankroll. Playing $50 per hand in mini-baccarat will cost you a lot more than using the Pass or Don’t Pass betting $50 – although the house edges are relatively close on both games.

Loss per hour is rarely brought up when analyzing bets.

Strange as it seems, I tend to fall into all three categories. That’s my personal “trinity” of perception.

[Read my latest gambling books, I Am a Dice Controller: Inside the World of Advantage-Play Craps! and I Am a Card Counter: Inside the World of Advantage-play Blackjack!]