Yesterday I found myself in a casino. No, I did not play any of the tables. I had to save my luck for the auditions of “Who Wants to be a Millionaire.” After all, I was one of some 800 people vying to stand next to Meredith and guess either the capital of France (for $1,000) or the square root of Kanye West’s social security number (for $500,000). In four weeks I will know whether or not I have a prayer, and then so will you.
While waiting in line for the audition, I did notice the desperate variety in the slot machines. Apparently, the prospect of losing one quarter in the hope of winning fifty is not incentive enough. Today’s slots need themes! I saw one for “My Magic Pony”. That should appeal to all the five-year-old girls at the casino. Maybe it was intended to lure their grandparents–”Darling, look where I lost your college fund!” But I was especially impressed with ”The Sex in the City” slot machine. Perhaps I should have invested a dollar to see how the game worked. Obviously, the orgasms and tribulations of those four Manhattan women could not be scored by six oranges in a row. No, I imagine the scoring would be…
Three Cosmopolitans in a row–$5.
Four Kim Cattrall nude scenes–$20
Five non-abusive heterosexual males in New York–$100
Six Manolo Blahnik shoes–enough to pay for one pair.
How could I resist? The thought of losing a dollar to Sheldon Adelson….
And let’s not forget the historic significance of this day (and imagine John Calvin on “Sex in the City”; well, he’d be more fun than John Knox): http://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2009/07/10/the-joys-of-misery-and-the-embarrassment-of-evolution/