Kickass and gambling

Kickass, the doorstop dog, agrees with the keeper that there are those who marvel at the weekend gatherings of humans in search of spiritual sustenance, but for a more puzzling example of the species “searching” behavior, the keeper suggests visiting the so-called casino on the east edge of Madison or one of the other such facilities in the state.

The casino quest is not for a comfortable afterlife, but rather the hope of getting back the money the ring-a-ding machines have previously sucked out of purses and pocketbooks; it is, of course, a test of break-even faith and foolishness.

The sprawling Madison complex is not really a casino but rather an immense structure packed with slot machines that blink and ding in an endless cacophony as hundreds of players sit before them like worshipers to a deity that commands the odds.  There is not even a blackjack game where the keeper could replay historical folly.

It is a strange Madison spectacle, and the keeper and Phyllis, having satisfied their curiosity, will not have to visit it for another 20 years or so.  By then they will likely have been dealt the big blackjack hand, and the keeper advises Phyllis to stay on 16 if the dealer shows a low card.

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