Gambling

I was eighteen years old at the time and had never been to a casino before.  I had never even planned to go to a casino for another three years or so, but when my friends, who attended Missouri State University, told me that you only had to be eighteen to gamble on a reservation, I was in.  The drive to the casino took about an hour, so we started loading up the car at eleven, figuring that if we got there early, we could put in an eight hour session and still be back to do some partying before the night ends.  This plan seemed all well and good except that we never stated what would happen if we started to win, and that is just what happened. Right about the time we said we were going to leave, I found myself going all-in two hands in a row, getting at least two callers each hand, and ending up with 700 dollars sitting in front of me. This was a 600 dollar increase from my starting buy in. At this point I should have known my luck was about to run out, but of course why not push the envelope.  A few hands down the road I find myself looking down at pocket kings, the second best starting hand, and I raise before the flop comes.  The action folds around to the player sitting to my right.  He re-raises, and I re-raise right back.  He then puts me in for all of my chips, and I call instantly.  He flips over pocket aces, and I watch in dismay as it holds up long the board, and I watch my 600 dollar profit fall away in one hand.  I leave the table and tell my friends it's time to go.  They can tell that I'm livid, so I don't get much argument.  On the way out I told them how I had just lost almost all of the my money and was down to 20 dollars, and as we pass one of the last groups of slot machines, I put my 20 in thinking, I might as well, and to my surprise I won 400 on my first spin.  I cashed out this time though, and now it was just time to party.

David B. Mueller

David B. Mueller is not a hard man notice.  More or less, he takes it upon himself to make sure of that.  One day while playing street soccer at the Columbia Park, I heard shouting coming from the road behind me.  As I turned to inspect the noise, I was surprised to see a middle aged caucasian male, dressed in khaki shorts, a Hawaiian style shirt, with sun glasses, and an old AM FM radio strapped to a bike, staring upward at the American flag shouting his pledge of allegiance, not to the flag, as he put it, but instead to America.  Though, this was no ordinary pledge, one might say, and certainly not one taught to children entering preschool.  No, this was his pledge of allegiance to the Libertarian, Socialistic, Democratic Party of America, a political movement of his own.  I couldn't begin to describe the utter sense of confusion I experienced that day, but then again I'm not all that sure I want too, for you might one day meet David B. Mueller and you deserve to make your own judgments.  Here's a little taste though. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YFTWGu3-S6M&feature=related