Dear MOMI,
It’s with great reluctance that I put this question to the IVA for fear of compromising our secrecy, but I feel the question is just too large for one Irish vampire to research on his own.
The steaks (excuse the spelling, to spell it correctly would cause undo anxiety) are very high. If we of the IVA are able to put our minds together via the message broad on the "Bryony" website and find the answer to this baffling two-part question within a vampire life time then…well we would have proved we could answer a two-part question.
But what if, because of the magnitude of our collecting finding, we draw worshipful attention to our own personage and become media eye candy to the masses of grateful admirers? The IVA would never be the same.
Personally, I’m willing to risk it.
So, here is the question: What did Irish people ever do to slot machines, and, if we did something, are we sorry?
Look, it doesn’t take a genius to know they hold something against us. The Irish are stuff of legend with our luck, and yet the video wheels that turn do not spell fortune to our pockets.
I must quickly separate slot machines in general from the slot machines in casinos, lest casinos join in taking offense. We all know well before stepping into a casino, that they are built as a capital collection center, and every is not expected to make money.
The chief workhorse for this collection is the slot machine, which puts them under a lot of pressure. If they never pay out, no one will play, and no money shall rest in their collection buckets. If they pay too often, the same thing happens, and they find themselves an early retirement. (Or being sold to a Trump casino)
Early casino type machines had it made. Laws against gambling in most states made competition light and payouts slight and shady. These machines all had the words “for entertainment only” on them so the murky establishment that housed them had an ‘out’ if a player tried to cash out.
Then came gambling’s biggest ally; state budget deficits.
Once considered the scorch of virtuous American ethics, gambling now became the bread and butter of government budget balancing as well as job creation. Large casinos were built and larger expectation were attacked.
As the money started pouring in, those expectation increased as did taxes on casinos larger than more profitable casinos.
Still more money was needed and state laws relaxed even further. Slots, once the domain of shady bars and houses of ill repute where introduced in grocery stores, gas stations, florists, currency exchanges, churches, grammar schools, and prisons with the mandate for capital collection.
Then something unexpected happen. Gamblers ran out of money. Who would have thought? You can find a slot machine anywhere today, but try and find someone playing one.
Sometimes I do play one, they look so lonely and sad as do the grocery owners and such who have them. If you do win, they look at you disbelieving like ‘really? I’m trying to survive here, and you’re going to collect?’
Casino slots can’t be blamed for taking Irish people’s money, though they could be nicer about it. Couldn’t they say, "thanks for playing" or "better luck next time" instead of "game over" or "insert more money to keep playing?"
The whole signage around them is a taut; “win big” or ‘thousands won on this machine," is basically machine-speak for, "Everyone else wins, I don’t know what your problem is, loser."
But there is a true meanie to Irish slot play, and it’s found on personal computers. I’m not acquainted with on-line gambling slots because they remind me of that kid in grades school who hustled me out of lunch money with the game "guess what number I’m thinking, I’ll tell you if you’re right."
I’m talking about casino software that you can still buy on a CD Rom and install on your computer. This software is often written by the same companies that produce the casino version of the same slot machines that rob you.
Given the competitive nature of slot machines, companies would have great incentive to give a player of the computer version that such a game pays out all the time. You can still find such people.
If you do happen to see someone playing a cash slot, you might hear them mumbling, “I don’t understand, I always win at home.” Be assured such a person is not Ed Calkins who never wins at home.
In my informal poll, everyone wins big on the not-for-real-money slots except anyone truly Irish. (Everyone is a little Irish, of course.)
My three very Polish wives play all the time on their computers and have to crow, “I’ve got 6 billion on this game," “Oh, I only have 700 million on this one," "Gee, look I just got the bonus AGAIN, I hope this program counts beyond a trillion.”
I don’t think I have to tell you what happens when I play, and seeing that I’m the only truly Irish person I know that plays this kind of slot, you can understand my question.
I’m told I have no reason to be upset. I shouldn’t take it personally when the program tells me I have no money to play, and I need to delete myself and restart again to even be allowed inside the virtual walls of the virtual casino. I’m being treated like a computer virus!
They tell me, “Look, the money isn’t real, its not like you have to pay it back.” Do they not know who they’re talking to, or have they not discovered my loose connection to reality?
At my count, I owe my computer 6 trillion computer bucks which can only be earned by winning on the computer program that loves everyone else, but hates the truly Irish. With all the money I owe, it amazes me that I find time to go to work.
I really need your help, Denise. I know the IVA monitors every inch of your website, so my call for answers will be heard.
To ensure a response, I’m offering a bounty for the best answer that is posted on Denise’s site and is offered by an IVA member. To the best answer, I will compose a limerick that will make the member famous without confirming or denying membership to the IVA.
To the second best, I pledge a 10 pombec bill.
I realize that with such a prize in sight, many qualified, but unremembered, people are going to want to join the IVA (Irish Vampires Association) so I will review how to become a member.
1) You don’t have to believe you’re a vampire (I don’t believe I’m a vampire most of the time (even the sight of blood make me hungry (unless it’s my blood (in which case it makes me uncomfortable (however its more the feel of the wound that the sight of blood.)))) but you do have to believe you’re Irish (you are).
2) Be alone in a private place.
3) Coronet yourself in a way you image the IVA coronets.
4) Welcome yourself to the IVA.
5) Appoint yourself to an IVA office.
6) Pay yourself the dues you should receive for your office’s budget.
7) Do as you believe an IVA member should do.
8) Tell no one, not even yourself about this. Write yourself a membership card and burn it.
Once an IVA member, you are eligible for the prize. Compose you answer to: What did the Irish ever do to slot machines, and if we did something, are we sorry?
Then send it to Denise and tell her if you won.
Wait, that kid with the numbers in his head might be the president.
On second thought, Denise will decide who won.
Don’t worry, Denise will forget your name as soon as she picks a winner.
Ruthlessly yours,
Ed Calkins
Editor's note: The contest is inside Ed's head. You may send responses, but there are no winners.
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