Opening Volley
By David Lewis |
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Dear Boss Man,
My eyes are permanently crossed and my toes have rotted. It's exactly 5:30 a.m. Today (and now Yesterday, as well). Judging from the contents of my trash can, I sucked down nine Red Bull energy drinks; they were diluted with three-fourths of a bottle of filthy vanilla rum. I've had eight beers, two pots of coffee, and three or four unsanitary gourdfuls of the mysterious yerba mate. I am covered in sweat and dirt. The smell in my office is something akin to a big mama hobo squatting in an abandoned bowling alley. Detritus from this awkward story surrounds me, from bits of paper enscrawled with undecipherable notes, to empty pizza boxes and dirty socks. All of this indicates that, at some time this weekend, I will have birthed another of these magazines...except this last story, this damned casino piece...it hovers behind me like a hungry warthog, waiting to sink its tusks into the back of my neck. It is huge and important and weird, and everyone is afraid to talk, afraid to spend political capital on anything Weird or New...or Unpopular.
I am also afraid, and confused - but I am wide-awake, and likely to be so when you next arrive. My ADD meds are gone, and caffeine has long since ceased to be effective, but the awful reality of my impending deadline animates the remnants of my dirty little corpse with panic-fueled fervor. There is a story here, interred under the layers of garbage and legal pads and political side-stepping...but where? Am I to blame for this? Yes, Commodore. Certainly. Hail to the Chief. I mean Myself, of course.Ciao.
(Excerpted from an e-mail to the publisher, who is, incidentally, no relation of mine.)
David S. Lewis - editor in chief
Photo: Christopher Atwood
A casino, here in Columbus: $250 million dollars' worth of electro-glitter and adrenaline and buffet food and the thrill of the Big Win, that twisted hot magic hovering just out of your hand's trembling reach: snake eyes, blackjack, double down, hit me, again - damn. Bust. Over a thousand new jobs would come to the downtown area, and the average national wage for casino workers is $40k /year. That's not amazing, but isn't McDonalds, either. And, if that average would apply to Columbus, that means $50 million worth of income, as well, all subject to income tax, which comprises around 70 percent of Columbus' revenue.
Politicians, quit sitting on your hands and pretending you haven't had time to read the proposal; with the amount of impact this could have, come out for it, if it is a good idea. Spend a little of that political capital you've earned on something other than tearing down City Center to build a park, Mr. Mayor.
At the state level, the Governor seems to be talking out both sides of his mouth, too.
"Most reasonable people would see the difference between a new game offered by the lottery where you pick numbers and permitting rows of slow machines and pluck quarters into a machine," said the spokesperson for the governor, Amanda Wurst. No, Governor, it's gambling...in bars...at machines. Don't piss down my back and call it rain. Lotteries attract the poorest customers, who can afford the risk least of anyone, and gives them impossible odds. Slot machine payout is generally required to be around 85 percent. And downtown casinos are far less likely to attract aging social-security spenders; it's an entertainment option for tourists and urbanites.
The Governor wants to invest in more conventionally acceptable industries, like warehousing. The European logistics giant, DHL, an major employer for Wilmington, Ohio, has pulled completely out of Wilmington; while shipping companies typically carry large payrolls and require many employees, Ohio was apparently not investing enough to keep them around. As DHL was the single largest employer in Wilmington, the future there is dim; words like "ghost town" are being bandied around.
But surely the Governor's intention to respect the anti-gambling constituency is admirable, as he campaigned as an opponent of expanded gambling in Ohio. With the exception of Keno, he has remained true to that.
Oh, and introducing Sunday lottery drawings; he authorized that, too. And he removed, through line-item veto, the $20 cap the state legislature tried to apply to lottery ticket prices. And there's his Ten-oh, the pre-cursor to Keno - but that was just a trial run for the bar game.
I am tired of these proposals, too. It seems a casino proposal of one kind or another hits the ballot nearly every year. Canvassers ring your doorbell far too early in the morning, often glazy-eyed ex-cons with no idea what the clipboard they've forced into your hands really means. If you are especially unlucky, you will get the enthusiastic college-activist types. Those little tragedies wander the streets, perky idealists who really think that the signatures they are trying to collect are blessed and noble prizes collected by virtue of their sterling intentions. They always represent the interests of the impoverished school districts, or starving horse farmers, or, this year, the growing ranks of the unemployed.
The casino proposals are always about everything other than casinos; I think Ohioans are smart enough to make a reasoned decision without hiding the casinos in our schools.
- David S. Lewis, Editor-in-Chief
A man's gotta make at least one bet a day, else he could be walking around lucky and never know it.
- Jim Jones, author
Originally Published: May 1, 2009
