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Amazing Race Route Concept #2
Warning: massive amount of text ahead. I created a mostly functional race route around the world (all loactions like buildings, businesses, landmarks, etc. are REAL locations and could theoretically actually work in the race). I tried to have a good variety in locations and types of challenges, but it's really hard! I find it a lot harder to complain about challenge design after making this. Even though this could technically happen there are probably some safety concerns in going to South Africa and Lesotho and it's probably not possible for the American Amazing Race to film in Cuba, but I decided to do it anyway. If you have any questions or feedback please let me know! RACE #2 Leg 1 (USA - Japan) Leg 2 (Japan - South Korea) Leg 3 (South Korea - India) Leg 4 (India - Oman) Leg 5 (Oman) Leg 6 (Oman - South Africa) Leg 7 (South Africa - Lesotho) Leg 8 (Lesotho - Greece) Leg 9 (Greece) Leg 10 (Greece - North Macedonia) Leg 11 (North Macedonia - Cuba) Leg 12 (Cuba - USA) LEG 1 USA - Japan Start at Cloud Gate, Chicago, Illinois Run to clue at Millenium Monument Clue #1 Make your way to the Gunma region of Japan, and travel to Sarugakyu Onsen. However, to get your tickets to Japan, you must make your way on foot through the busy streets of Chicago to Navy Pier, where flights will be given out according to the order of your arrival. Flights go to Tokyo, and you must make your own travel arrangements from there. Flight 1 (5 teams): Chicago - Los Angeles - Tokyo, arrives 8:00 AM Flight 2 (4 teams): Chicago - Tokyo, arrives 9:30 AM Flight 3 (2 teams): Chicago - San Francisco - Tokyo, arrives 9:45 AM Clue #2 Both team members must go into the hot springs and search it for the partly submerged cluebox to get your next clue. Clue #3 Travel to Sarugakyo Bungy for your next clue. Clue #4 Roadblock: Who’s ready to take a jump? Bungy jump at the largest bungy jump in all of Japan at 62 meters, or over 200 feet! Once you’ve taken your leap of faith, you’ll receive your next clue. Clue #5 Travel to Uenokunirokunomiya Haruna Shrine, Takasaki, for your next clue. Clue #6 Create one string of paper cranes in Senbazuru. Senbazuru is the crafting of 1000 paper cranes for good luck. Following the demonstration, learn how to craft paper cranes. Once you have created forty of them and strung them together, deliver them to a Shinto priest at Akiba Shrine. He will give you your next clue. Clue #7 Travel by train to Akihabara, Tokyo, and go to the top of the Tokyo Skytree to receive your next clue. Clue #8 Roadblock: Who can ‘go’ kart? The teammate who did the first roadblock cannot do this one. Travel to Akihabari Street Kart 1 and dress up in one of the many ridiculous costumes the company has to offer. Then, join a fifteen minute go-karting tour around the streets of this bustling region and look for three enormous signs in race colors with three different Japanese characters on them. If you can spot and write all three characters down correctly during the rush of Tokyo, you’ll receive your next clue. If you can’t get it right, you’ll have to join the next available tour. Clue #9 Travel to Horin Park on foot to find the first pit stop! The last team to check in here may be eliminated. Pit Stop, Leg 1 trip to Canada last: eliminated LEG 2 Japan - South Korea Clue #1 Fly to Busan, South Korea! Upon arrival, make your way to Beomeo-sa for your next clue. Fast Forward, Leg 2 Go to Songdo Beach and swim out into the ocean, locating the five whale statues in the water. At each statue, pick up marked letter tiles. Once you have all seven (two statues have two tiles), you can go back to the beach and unscramble the letters that spell out the name of a traditional South Korean delicacy that the other contestants eat at their first challenge. If you get the right word, you’ll be given a clue that takes you straight to the end of the leg. Clue #2 Master the art of Korean meditation. If you can master all of the moves correctly, then your instructor will give over your next clue. Clue #3 Head to Taejongdae for your next clue. Clue #4 Roadblock: Who’s desperate to eat? Take the marked path over one mile uphill to the marked food stand, and finish one serving of Soondae, a traditional South Korean delicacy that is made of pig intestines and pork blood. Once you have finished the food, you can run down to your partner and get your next clue. Clue #5 Take the Songdo Marine Cable Car from Songnim Park to Amnam Park to receive your next clue. Clue #6 Detour: Fish Identity or Fish Delivery Fish Identity: Go to Jagalchi Fish Market and search for the marked stall. Once there, sort an enormous box of fish and organize them. Once the stall owner approves, put them up for stock in the stall to receive your next clue. Fish Delivery: Go to Jacky’s Seafood and take three orders and three addresses that need to be delivered. Once you have delivered all the fish to all the correct addresses throughout the Gamcheon Culture Village, you will receive your next clue. Clue #7 Make your way to the pit-stop at Haedong Yonggungsa. The last team to arrive may be eliminated. Pit-Stop, Leg 2 -first: trip to Belize -last: non-elimination LEG 3 South Korea - India Clue #1 Fly to Hyderabad, India, and go to the Charminar for your first clue. Clue #2 Travel to Ramoji Film City Main Entrance to receive your next clue. Speed Bump, Leg 3 Make your way to Saha’s Adventure Park and zorb down a steep hill. Once you’ve made it, you can continue racing. Clue #3 Detour: Birdy Woods or Bollywood Birdy Woods: Dressing up in clumsy bird costumes, search through Asia’s largest aviary for a cutout of the bird your partner is dressing up as. Once you’ve found the two cutouts, head to the Bonsai Garden. If you match the right bird, you’ll receive your next clue. Bollywood: Head to Ramoji Movie Magic. Dressing up in traditional Indian outfits, memorize a short dance to the tune of some Bollywood music and perform it to the live audience and judges. If you meet their standards, you’ll receive your next clue. Clue #4 Head to Nehru Zoological Park where your next clue will be waiting. Clue #5 Take an amazing elephant ride! With both teammates on the elephant’s back guide it through a short course. If you can reach the end in under two minutes, you’ll receive your next clue. Clue #6 Make your way to Bidar Fort by public transport for your next clue. Clue #7 Roadblock: Who’s itching to get etching? One team member must help in the process of the creation of bidriware. First, you must chisel one section in the piece of bidriware very precisely. Any error and you must restart. If given the clear, then you must then make their way inside Bidar Fort and collect a total of three baskets of soil for the artisans to use later in the process. Finally, you must use some of the soil you collected and coat a piece of bidriware in it. If every part of the challenge was done to the satisfaction of the artisans, you will receive your next clue. Clue #8 Make your way to the Bahmani Tombs and the pit-stop! The last team to arrive will be eliminated. Pit-Stop, Leg 3 -first: trip to Japan -last: eliminated LEG 4 India - Oman Clue #1 Fly to Muscat, Oman! Once you have arrived, make your way to Al Alam Palace, where you will find marked cars waiting outside. Your clue will be waiting on the car. Clue #2 Drive all the way to the Nizwa Souq in Nizwa, Oman, where you will find nine different tags, each releasing teams at different times the next morning, when you will be given your next clue. Tag 1: departure at 7:00 AM Tag 2: departure at 7:05 AM Tag 3: departure at 7:10 AM Tag 4: departure at 7:15 AM Tag 5: departure at 7:20 AM Tag 6: departure at 7:25 AM Tags 7-9: departure at 7:30 AM Clue #3 Detour: Selling Goats or Weighing Dates Selling Goats: Navigate through the souq to the weekly goat market. You must select a seller and help them sell their goats. First, thoroughly clean five goats so they are ready for selling. Then, parade five goats around the “walking circle,” where potential buyers will inspect which goats to buy. You must finally buy a goat yourself, haggling for a price under 100 riyals, or 260 US dollars. Once you can purchase a goat, you will receive your next clue. Keep the goat for the next challenge. Weighing Dates: Find the marked stall in the souq that is selling dates. Your goal is to weigh out 200 grams of Ajwa Dates, 175 grams of Barhi Dates, and 125 grams of Hayani Dates. To do this, you must travel across the market to a scale at a different date stall. If you can get the perfect amount of dates, you will receive your next clue. Keep the dates for the next challenge. Clue #4 Travel on foot to the Contemporary Mosque with either your goat or dates and trade them with the man waiting out front for your next clue. Clue #5 Make your way back to the souq, and head to Omani Craftsman's House where you will find your next clue. Clue #6 Roadblock: Who can work and weave? The teammate participating in this roadblock must help create a small basketwork bowl. After watching the example, you must use the provided materials to finish off the bowl. If it meets the requirement of the shop owner, you will receive your next clue. Clue #7 Make your way to the pit-stop for this leg of the race, Nizwa Fort! The last team to arrive may be eliminated. Pit-Stop, Leg 4 -first: continue racing -last: continue racing LEG 5 Oman Clue #1 Drive yourself to Bimmah Sinkhole in Muscat, Oman! You will receive your next clue after having a cup of delicious locally-made coffee. Caution! Double U-Turn ahead! Clue #2 Detour: Script Write or Shipwright Script Write: Drive to Bait al Zubair and go into the Manuscript Room. Using a provided paper and translation guide, figure out what the marked manuscript says in English. If anything is wrong when submitting it, though, you must start completely over. Shipwright: Drive to Oman Maritime Boatyard and find the marked boat. Oman Maritime has been reviving the craft of making the traditional wooden boats of Oman’s past, and you must help with the process. First, you must hand-sand a small section of the marked vessel. Then, you and your partner must work together to stitch coconut palm fiber through twenty holes, or eighty total stitches. Once you’re done, you’ll receive your next clue. Clue #3 Make your way to Mutrah Souk for your next clue and the U-Turn board! Clue #4 Search through the enormous market for one of three marked stalls. One you’ve found a stall, search through their wares for a trinket with a red/yellow flag on the bottom. Give the correct trinket to the shop owner, and they will hand you your next clue. Clue #5 Drive yourself to Qurum Beach, where you will receive your next clue. Clue #6 Roadblock: Who will pass the shells? For this challenge, one team member must watch the demonstration of two fishermen playing a traditional Omani game, Al Hawalees. You must first create a “board” in the sand and collect the required amount of shells to play. You must then challenge a local fisherman. If you can win while following all of the rules correctly, you will receive your next clue. Clue #7 Make your way to the pit-stop at Wadi Bani Khalid. The last team to check in will be eliminated. Pit-Stop, Leg 5 -first: trip to Tanzania -last: eliminated LEG 6 Oman - South Africa Clue #1 Fly out of Oman to Durban, South Africa, on one of two flights. Flight 1 (2 teams): Muscat - Durban, arrives 7:30 AM Flight 2 (6 teams): Muscat - Dar es Salaam - Durban, arrives 8:00 AM Upon touching down, make your way to Moses Mabhida Stadium, where you will find your next clue. Clue #2 Roadblock: Who will swing for the skies? One team member must strap in and complete the Big Rush Big Swing, the largest swing in the world! Dive 263 feet down. Once you have finished the swing, you will receive a section and seat number. You will search the stands for your next clue. Clue #3 Make your way to Umhlanga Lighthouse for your next clue. Clue #4 Shake it up! In this challenge, you must create Lighthouse Bar’s famous “Umhlanga Schling.” Use the provided recipe to create fifteen drinks to perfection, and you will receive your next clue. Clue #5 Head to Addington Beach and dig underneath one of the large sandcastles for your next clue. Clue #6 Detour: Tree or Sea Tree: For this detour, go to Durban Botanical Gardens. Use a provided golf cart to make your way to the famous Wood’s Cycad, a tree dating back to the age of dinosaurs. It has been cared for here since 1848. Once there, use one of the provided pieces to put together a large 3d puzzle of the tree. Once it has been approved, you will be handed your clue, and you can drive back to the front of the gardens and continue racing. Sea: Go to uShaka Marine World and help out with some chores! First, help the kitchen staff and prepare 5 pounds of specially made vegetables for some of the aquarium’s fish. Second, travel around the park and take water samples from each of the specified exhibits. Finally, record blood test results taken during routine health check-ups. If you’ve completed all of the steps correctly, you will receive your next clue. Clue #7 Head to the pit-stop at Suncoast Casino and Entertainment World! The last team to check in may be eliminated. Pit-Stop, Leg 6 -first: 5k each -last: eliminated LEG 7 South Africa - Lesotho Clue #1 Drive yourself through Qacha’s Nek and into Lesotho! Once in Lesotho, drive yourself to Maletsunyane Falls where you’ll find your next clue. Fast Forward, Leg 7 By completing this fast forward, you will skip an overnight rest point and will be able to head directly to the pit-stop. Head to Sehlabathebe National Park. Once there, using the provided map and compass, ride by horseback to the nomadic tribal people’s current village. At the village, help cook pap-pap, a type of porridge common in Lesotho. The first team to complete the challenge will be able to head directly to the pit-stop. Clue #2 Drive yourself to Seshoeshoe Decor and Fashion Designers in Maseru for your next clue. Clue #3 Who can cut up a pattern? One teammate will choose one of the complicated tribal Lesotho designs, and must find five pieces of fabric that match it perfectly. But be careful, the designs have miniscule differences between them. Once you’ve found all of your fabric, cut them at the directed places to receive your next clue. Clue #4 Make your way to the Subeng River Dinosaur Footprints, where you will find seven tags, each releasing you at a time in the morning when you will receive your next clue. Tags 1-2: departure at 7:00 AM Tag 3: departure at 7:20 AM Tag 4: departure at 7:40 AM Tags 5-7: departure at 8:00 AM Clue #5 Detour: Cave or Maze Cave: For this challenge, go to Liphofung Cave. You must memorize all of the rock paintings in a specified section (15 paintings), and then run approximately a quarter-mile away and select the correct paper cutouts and put them in the right order as they were shown in the cave. When you have everything selected and ordered correctly, you’ll receive your next clue. Maze: Make your way to the second largest dam in Africa, Katse Dam. Enter the first marked gallery and record the air temperature and the humidity. Use those observations to crack a complicated code, and enter the parallel gallery it directs you into. Be careful, it might be hard to find! If you enter the correct gallery, you will find a boat key, which you must give to the boatmaster. He will then give you a small ride around the reservoir and you’ll receive your next clue. Clue #6 Drive yourself to Sani Stone Lodge for your next clue. Clue #7 Help a local Basotho Shephard and their dogs move their sheep to a new grazing location. Don’t let the sheep get away! Once they’ve all been successfully moved, you’ll receive your next clue. Clue #8 Make your way on foot to the pit-stop at Sani Top Chalet! The last team to check in may be eliminated! Pit-Stop, Leg 7 -first: trip to Egypt -last: non-elimination LEG 8 Lesotho - Greece Clue #1 Via Maseru International Airport, make your way to Athens, Greece, known to be the home of the first democracy! From there, make your way to the Theatre of Dionysus on The Acropolis, where you will take part in a U-Turn vote. The two teams with the most votes will be sentenced to an automatic U-Turn when they arrive at the detour. After the vote, teams will be given their next clue. Clue #2 Fly to Chania, Greece on the island of Crete! Upon touching down, use the provided cars to make your way to the Agora and search for the marked stall. Speed Bump, Leg 8 Together, team members must eat through a total of twelve Greek figs. Once all of the fruits have been stomached, that team can continue racing. Clue #3 Detour: Traverse or Immerse Traverse: Make your way to the Maritime Museum of Crete, and find the small yacht model outside the museum. Your goal is to remember as much as you can without writing it down, then make a half mile walk through the streets of Crete to the yacht harbor, where you must find a marked yacht and rearrange the items until it is just like it was in the model. Once the actual yacht matches the model, you’ll receive your next clue. Immerse: Travel to Minoan’s World 3D Museum, and get treated to a five minute long “9D movie” on Cretan History which engages all of your senses. If you can answer all five questions correctly, you’ll receive your next clue. However, only two teams can participate in the show at once. Clue #4 Drive to the Palace of Knossos for your next clue. Clue #5 Use the provided map to navigate through the ruins, collecting puzzle pieces at each of the marked rooms. Once you have all ten bundles of pieces, head outside and recreate the large painting using the pieces you collected. Once it has been finished, you’ll receive your next clue. Clue #6 Drive to Cretan Olive Oil Farm for your next clue. Clue #7 Roadblock: Who is feeling oily? In this challenge, one teammate will help in the process of creating olive oil. First, set up special tree-shaking equipment and a net, used to efficiently get olives out of the tree without bruising them. You will then sort the olives between bruised and fair. Finally, crush both bruised and fair olives with a traditional granite olive press. Once they have been successfully grinded into a paste, you’ll receive your next clue. Clue #8 Find the pit-stop along the coast of the small village of Loutro back on the west side of Crete. You will soon discover, however, that the village is completely blocked off from the mainland by mountains, so you will have to find alternate transportation. Hurry, because the last team to arrive will be eliminated. Pit-Stop, Leg 8 -first: trip to Austria -last: eliminated LEG 9 Greece Clue #1 Fly back to the mainland in Thessaloniki! When you’ve arrived, search Aristotelous Square for your next clue. Clue #2 Detour: Serve or Observe Serve: For this detour head on foot to Bougatsa Giannis, a renowned restaurant in the Ladadika area. You must take the orders of twelve total people and retrieve the correct dishes for them from the kitchen. Each person also has a dessert, which must be retrieved from nearby pastry shop Trigona Elinidi. You may take notes, but if you mess up someone’s order, you must start it over again. Observe: Go by taxi to the Thessaloniki Science Centre Technology Museum and make your way to the main planetarium. The night sky will be projected above, and will be moving around you at one hour of regular movement per second. Using the provided key, identify five Greek constellations first identified by Claudius Ptolemy- Orion, Ursa Major, Cassiopeia, Centaurus, and Perseus. Be careful, it might be dizzying! Once you’ve found all of the constellations, you’ll be rewarded with your next clue. Clue #3 Find the Arch of Galerius for your next clue. Clue #4 Use one of the marked cars to drive yourself for the rest of the leg. Go to the Thessaloniki Concert Hall for your next clue. Clue #5 Roadblock: Who can blow a note and hold a tune? Macedonian brass bands are extremely popular in the Macedonia region of Greece, so for this roadblock, learn how to play the trumpet, a popular instrument played in these bands. If you can play a few notes of the folk song with the band, you’ll get your next clue. Clue #6 Drive to Dalamara Winery. Once there, follow the guide to the directed area, where you must load two empty kegs onto a horse drawn cart. Direct the horse approximately half a mile through the vineyard and return back to the kegs. You will continue to load and deliver a total of eight kegs to receive your next clue. Clue #7 Drive to Ski Center Voras and take the lift to the top where Kajmakcalan, a chapel right on the border between Greece and North Macedonia is situated. The last team to arrive at this pit-stop may be eliminated. Pit-Stop, Leg 9 -first: trip to Colombia -last: eliminated LEG 10 Greece - North Macedonia Clue #1 Drive yourself across the border into North Macedonia to Popova Kula Winery! Once there, pull a tag that departs you at a certain time the next morning. Tag 1: departure at 8:00 AM Tag 2: departure at 8:10 AM Tag 3: departure at 8:20 AM Tags 4-5: departure at 8:30 AM Clue #2 Roadblock: Who is a master chef? The teammate doing this roadblock will use the provided recipe to cook the national dish of North Macedonia, Tavche Gravche, a special type of baked beans. If it is cooked to perfection, you’ll receive your next clue. Clue #3 Drive yourself to the Millenium Cross in Skopje for your next clue. Clue #4 Detour: Art Block or Charity Walk Art Block: Drive to the Art Bridge, which is home to 29 statues of important Macedonian artists and musicians. Wandering on and around the bridge are 29 people dressed up as those artists and musicians. You must match nine total people to their statues. A maximum of three teams can complete this challenge. Charity Walk: Drive to the Mother Teresa Memorial House and load a trolley cart with a marked group of items that will almost completely fill the trolley. On foot, travel to the SOS Children’s Village National Office where you are to deliver the items. If you do not choose this option, your items will still be donated after the leg. Clue #5 Drive to the city of Struga, where the North Macedonian national anthem was created. Make your way to the Saint Archangel Michael Cave Church for your next clue. Clue #6 Teammates must work together to memorize four total stanzas of the Macedonian national anthem- in Macedonian. If you can perform it with the orchestra without forgetting the lyrics, you’ll receive your clue to the next pit-stop. Clue #7 Drive to the Monastery of St. Naum and the pit-stop! The last team to check in may be eliminated. Pit-Stop, Leg 10 -first: trip to Indonesia -last: eliminated LEG 11 North Macedonia - Cuba Clue #1 Make your way back to Skopje, then fly to Havana, Cuba, on two predetermined flights. Once there, go by taxi to Taller Calle 8, a car repair shop, where you will receive your next clue. Flight 1 (2 teams): Skopje - Paris - Havana, arrives 6:30 AM Flight 2 (2 teams): Skopje - London - Miami - Havana, arrives 7:10 AM Clue #2 Roadblock: Who can fix it up? The teammate doing this roadblock must follow the example to repair one of the classic Cuban cars. If it makes it past inspection, you’ll receive your next clue. Clue #3 For the remainder of the leg, you’ll have to drive the car you just fixed. Head to Fusterlandia, where you’ll find your next clue. Clue #4 Find where the attached image is in person throughout the folk neighborhood of Fusterlandia. If you can find where the image actually is and show the judge, you’ll receive your next clue. Clue #5 Sell the Box or Find the Band Sell the Box: Drive to Santa Maria del Mar Beach and sell the provided boxes of boxed rum, the “juice box for bug kids.” While never selling any box for under 25 Cuban Pesos, make 375 Cuban Pesos (around fifteen US dollars). Once you’ve made your sales, you’ll receive your next clue. Find the Band: For this detour, drive to the Cuban Art Factory and observe the large, marked piece of sheet music in the first room. Going from room to room in the factory, try to find the band who is playing the music that was in the first room. You must make your guesses ten minutes apart, so be confident in your answers! Once you have chosen the right band, you’ll be rewarded with your next clue. Clue #6 Drive to Vinales Valley Tobacco Field and search the marked area for your next clue. Clue #7 Perfectly roll ten Cuban cigars, five per contestant. Watch the example closely, as any small mistake in rolling the tobacco leaf will cause the cigar to fail. Once all of the cigars have been perfectly rolled, you’ll receive your next clue. Clue #8 Take a long drive to the eastern side of Cuba and the pit-stop at Ignacio Agramonte Park in Camaguey! The last team to check into the pit-stop will be eliminated. Pit-Stop, Leg 11 -first: trip to Botswana -last: eliminated LEG 12 Cuba - USA Clue #1 For the first part of this leg, you’ll be staying in Cuba! Drive yourself using the car you used in the last leg down Neptuno street in Havana, where you will find a guarapo stall with a flag. Clue #2 Using the hand-press to crush sugarcane, make forty glasses of guarapo. Once all of the glasses have been successfully made, you’ll be handed your next clue. Clue #3 Drive to the Tropicana Night Club for your next clue. Clue #4 Roadblock: Who can make it and shake it? For this challenge, one team member must follow the instructions of the costume designer to create a costume for one of the showgirls. If the costume is made correctly and given a pass, teams will be given their next clue. Clue #5 Teams must drive to Aeropuerto de La Habana Ciudad Libertad, where you will embark on a charter flight to Key West, Florida, back in the United States. Once in Key West, teams must go to the southernmost point in the continental United States for their next clue. Clue #6 Make your way to the Ernest Hemingway Home and Museum, where you’ll find your next clue. Clue #7 Roadblock: Who is a reader, a writer, and a decipherer? Ernest Hemingway, known for books like The Old Man and the Sea, had a notoriously bad handwriting, with little regards to punctuation or accuracy. One team member must copy one of Hemingway’s notes perfectly, letter for letter, on the provided typewriter. If it was typed perfectly, you will be handed a decoder key which you can use to find the hidden message, which will reveal the location of your final challenge. Answer: Smathers Beach Clue #8 Now that you’ve made it to Smathers Beach, you’ll partake in a final challenge. Out in between the marked buoys are bundles of letter tiles. You must dive down to retrieve them and bring them back up to shore. Figure out what you’re supposed to spell out with them, and once you think you have the answer, hang the tiles in order on your clothesline. If you have the correct answer, you’ll be given the final clue. Answer: United States, Japan, South Korea, India, Oman, South Africa, Lesotho, Greece, North Macedonia, Cuba, United States (teams must figure out that they have to spell out all of the countries they visited in order on the race) Clue #9 Congratulations! Make your way to the final pit-stop at Fort Zachary Cruise Pier! Go, go, go, the first team to reach the pit-stop will win 1 MILLION dollars! Pit-Stop, Leg 12 10 countries 4 continents over 27,000 miles first: 1 million dollars
Going through old issues of the Wrestling Observer Newsletter and posting highlights in my own words. For anyone interested, I highly recommend signing up for the actual site at f4wonline and checking out the full archives. PREVIOUSLY:
NOTE: I mentioned it in the first post of 2002 but a lot of y'all are aware that a few months ago, SaintRidley picked up the Observer Rewind reins after I stopped and started doing his own recaps from the 1980s. Well, he's been doing great work with it and he just finished posting the year of 1987. I went ahead and added it the Previously" section up there. ↑↑↑ Just wanted to make sure to bring it to everyone's attention.
It's been awhile since we've had major PPVs going head-to-head with each other, but it happened this week when WWA aired it's 2nd ever PPV live from Las Vegas, going head-to-head with PRIDE. Dave recaps the history of head-to-head PPV battles, specifically the WWF vs. Crockett war in the late-80s. How Vince McMahon created Survivor Series specifically to run it in direct competition with Crockett's first ever PPV, Starrcade 87. The resulting loss of needed revenue was a huge reason why Crockett eventually had to sell the company to Ted Turner and, in retrospect, set into motion everything that led to WCW's eventual death last year. He goes on to recap how Royal Rumble was created and aired on free TV to go head-to-head with Crockett's next PPV attempt, Bunkhouse Stampede. Then Crockett responded by creating the first Clash of the Champions and airing it against Wrestlemania IV. Not sure PRIDE vs. WWA is up there in the same league as that PPV battle. Which, to be fair, Dave admits it's not the same thing.
Anyway, the PRIDE show was among the greatest events of all time, one of the very few times in the history of the Observer that a show got a unanimous 100% thumbs up vote on the reader poll. It aired in Japan live and in the U.S. on a bit of a delay, with the matches edited in a different order. In Japan, the card was headlined by Vanderlei Silva vs. former UWFI wrestler Kiyoshi Tamura, which was an excellent fight that Silva won. In the U.S., the show was built around Ken Shamrock vs. Don Frye in the main event (in Japan, it aired 3rd from last) and the 2 men had an absolute war that should shut up critics who say both are too old. Shamrock lost a split-decision in a fight that Dave thinks should have legitimately been a draw. (This fight is considered to this day one of the all-time wars in MMA history. An utter slobberknocker. Neither fighter was the same again afterward and Frye has said that the damage Shamrock did to his legs in this fight led to him later getting addicted to painkillers). After the fight, Shamrock went over to ringside and hugged his girlfriend Alicia Webb, who you may remember as Ryan Shamrock. The girl that played his sister in WWF.
And then there was WWA. A low-budget, amateur-ish event, marred by bad production and no-shows. Not that the crowd would even know, because most of the lineup was never even announced ahead of time anyway. The scheduled main event of Jeff Jarrett vs. Randy Savage didn't happen because Savage held promoter Andrew McManus up for more money at the last minute. Savage originally had agreed to work the show in exchange for a 30% ownership stake in the company, which was agreed upon. But three days before the show, Savage upped the ante, saying he wanted the 30%, plus an extra $50,000 in cash. At that point, they started haggling back and forth to try to strike some kind of deal. Ownership got pulled off the table and then Savage asked for a flat $250,000 fee to work the show. WWA turned that down and came back with a flat $150,000 offer instead. Savage turned that down and at that point, everything broke down. For what it's worth, a lot of the lower card wrestlers on the show worked for $300. Last second attempts to bring in Sting to save the show didn't work either. Road Dogg was also supposed to appear on the show but couldn't because of legal issues. Word is he got arrested 2 days before the show in Florida on a probation violation. As a result, the PPV was headlined by Jeff Jarrett defending the WWA championship against Brian Christopher.
The whole show was simply an embarrassment. The production was completely minor league and the crowd was totally dead for all these long matches with guys nobody cares about. The in-ring work was fine, but the booking often made no sense, with overbooked three-ways and 6-way undercard matches that ended up being more clusterfuck than match. It was also one of those Russo-type things where the commentary team made endless inside-references that only the hardcore internet fans would get. But then again, this show only drew hardcore internet fans anyway, so why not? They also constantly made reference to WWF, which came across as desperate and sad. In particular, Larry Zbyszko was given the chance to cut a meandering promo, challenging Vince McMahon to a fight over some unspecified grievance from 20 years ago and criticized them for having Chris Jericho as their world champion. Dave thinks Zbyszko was actually angling for a job from WWF by trying to start his own angle and says this promo was basically his job application. And he thinks it was pretty pathetic. Backstage, the disorganization was apparent and most even within the company saw what a mess it was and have already given up on the promotion as a lost cause. Dave said this PPV made it clear that nobody will be challenging WWF anytime soon.
Other notes from the WWA Revolution PPV: yes, in case you're wondering, that Japanese man sitting behind the commentary table all night who very briefly (literally blink and miss it) got involved in the Scott SteineDisco Inferno tussle was indeed NJPW star Hiroyoshi Tenzan and yes, they flew him all the way from Japan (and had him bring his ring gear just in case), only to have him do almost nothing and never be acknowledged on camera. Eric Bischoff was backstage, as a guest of Ernest Miller. Bischoff laughed off any questions about going to WWF but said the ol' "never say never" shtick. The crowd was about 2,800, most of them freebies and they were desperately giving away tickets in the casino before the show. During the first match, the building looked practically empty so they quietly began moving everyone closer to ringside to pack the area around the ring to make it look presentable for TV. Opening 6-way match featuring all the hottest indie stars was a sloppy mess, with too people flying everywhere trying to get their shit in and the cameras missing most of it. Bret Hart came out and cut a long, rambling promo before announcing Brian Christopher was replacing Randy Savage in the main event, to zero crowd response. By the 5th match, people in the crowd could be seen leaving, never to return. Jerry Lynn showed up, interrupting an Eddie Guerrero interview, at which point Dave mentions, oh yeah by the way, the WWF released Jerry Lynn 2 days before the PPV. Considering WWF has been talking about reviving the cruiserweight division after Wrestlemania, Dave doesn't know why they'd get rid of a guy who could be one of the best in the division. Anyway, yeah, this show sucked. Here ya go, enjoy.
WWF's latest investor conference call took place and wasn't particularly newsworthy, but there's some stuff to note. The new agreement with DirecTV is until August of 2003 and is under the exact same terms they were operating under last year, which means WWF gained nothing while losing an estimated $4.4 million in revenue over the last few PPVs. Following the brand split, WWF plans to run 16 PPVs per year, and increasing the price by an extra $5. Linda McMahon said Wrestlemania 18 has sold 58,000 tickets as of the time of the call, for a record gate of $3.96 million, breaking the record set by last year's WM. Dave goes through all the numbers and for the most part, in comparison to previous quarters, almost everything is down. Which is no surprise to anyone who has been paying attention because WWF is clearly on the downswing. Linda also said they're currently interviewing new writers and are hoping to double their writing staff, which Dave thinks is a terrible idea (and time has damn sure proven him correct). Finally, Linda was also asked how the purchase of the WCW library has benefited the company, which Dave thinks is an interesting question since revenues have declined since then and the Invasion angle flopped so hard that it killed any brand value the name "WCW" may have had. Linda talked about the value of the tape library but Dave points out that it's been a year and WWF has done practically nothing with that library (of course, in the end, they found ways to monetize that WCW library and it more than paid for itself).
In his first match as an official member of the AJPW roster, Keiji Muto lost the Triple Crown championship to Toshiaki Kawada in a match nearly a year in the making, before a sold out crowd at Budokan Hall. He hasn't seen it yet, but the match was reported to Dave as a near-classic (he ends up giving it 4.5 stars). The other 2 NJPW stars who jumped ship, Kendo Kashin and Satoshi Kojima, also worked their first official AJPW matches. Kaz Hayashi, formerly a member of Jung Dragons in WCW and who worked in WWF's developmental until asking for his release a few weeks ago, also debuted on the show and will be part of Muto's faction.
Obituary time for Swede Hanson, who worked primarily in the Carolinas and had a brief run in the WWF as a cult favorite babyface in the early 80s. Sadly, he passed away in a mental hospital because he had advanced Alzheimer's disease which made it impossible for his family to handle him and they had him put away. Jeez, that's rough. He also had a litany of other health problems. Dave gives an in-depth history of his career in the 60s and 70s as a heel in the Carolinas before talking about the WWF run. Vince Sr. brought him in as a monster heel to challenge Bob Backlund, and Dave thinks someone else must have backed out at the last moment or something. By this time (in 1979), Hanson was well past his prime and hadn't been a major star anywhere in years but he was a big dude and so they brought him in to face Backlund and they actually sold out Madison Square Garden with Backlund vs. Hanson in the main event (though Dave says Bruno Sammartino working the undercard sure didn't hurt). The match sucked and almost immediately after, he became a jobber in the WWF, but Vince Jr, on commentary, just loved to call him "Rawboned Swede Hanson" and the "Rawboned" nickname caught on. Vince said it with such gusto that Hanson briefly became a cult favorite jobber from it and the crowd turned him babyface at damn near 50 years old. It led to a brief career resurgence and him having a small role in the Backlund/Billy Graham feud for the title before he finally faded into oblivion.
Mark Henry won the "world's strongest man" competition at the Arnold Classic bodybuilding and fitness event. Henry has been out of WWF for the past 2 months training for this competition and the training paid off, with Henry capturing first place and making a legitimate viable claim to his "strongest man in the world" moniker. During the event, Henry became the first man in 50 years to cleanly press the 366 pound Apollon wheel weight above his head. In another event, he carried an 800 pound block of bolted together railroad ties up a 40-foot ramp faster than the other competitors. For his victory, Henry won a $75,000 Humvee and some other cash prizes. Over the same weekend, he also won another $1,000 in a contest where he was able to lift an inch dumbbell (which weighs 172 pounds) to his shoulder with one arm. There's a bunch of other weightlifting stuff here, but you might be surprised to find out....I dunno shit about any of this. I got winded lifting pizza to my mouth earlier. Mark Henry strong.
Another obit for former wrestler, promoter, and father of 80s valet Baby Doll, Nick Roberts who died of pancreatic cancer. Once again, a bunch of details and stories about someone I've never heard of in wrestling history that Dave somehow knows everything about. I know I've said it before, but these obituary pieces are some of the greatest reasons for subscribing to the Observer.
Masahiro Chono says he wants to take NJPW in a more serious, realistic direction. No sports entertainment gaga nonsense, they want it to be like a real sports product. So much so that, in his own match with Manabu Nakanishi at the last big NJPW show, Chono wouldn't even bounce off the ropes, saying that it's not credible and no one would do that in a real fight. Ah yes, Inoki's gonna love this.
FMW wrestler Kodo Fuyuki has said he plans to try to keep the promotion running after it was announced it was folding last week. FMW still has 8 shows scheduled for this month and Fuyuki said he plans to try to run them himself and keep the company going (no such luck buddy).
Japan Today, an American newspaper that covers Japanese news daily, had a story on Antonio Inoki battling diabetes. It says he was first diagnosed in 1982, which Dave says is right around the time Inoki's in-ring work dropped off considerably when he lost his stamina. The story said for the last 20 years, Inoki has eaten a ridiculously healthy diet and is in better health now at 59 than he was then at 39.
Dave said he got tons of positive feedback on the debut of RF Video's Ring of Honor promotion in Philadelphia. The show was sold out in advance, was well organized, and had several really good matches. They limited a lot of the mistakes that most indie companies fall victim to, such as too many matches, too many run-ins, too much mic work, too many guys trying to do too much stuff, etc. Steve Corino and CZW announcer Eric Gargiulo did commentary. Eddie Guerrero faced Super Crazy in an excellent match and the main event was a three-way featuring Low-Ki, Christopher Daniels, and American Dragon that Dave has heard rave reviews for. And thus, ROH was born.
Vic Grimes took the most insane bump of all time at an XPW event before 1,500 fans in Los Angeles. Grimes was facing New Jack in a scaffold match said to be at least twice as high up as the fall Mick Foley took off the Hell in a Cell. The ring below had tables stacked 4-high to break his fall, but Grimes ended up missing most of the tables when New Jack overshot him. Perhaps on purpose. Grimes missed all but the corner tables at the edge of the ring before coming down on the corner turnbuckles. After the bump, they tried to rush fans out of the arena since it was almost 1am and gave many the impression Grimes life was in danger. But he was surprisingly okay and was walking around backstage after, although he was definitely banged up. Grimes was really nervous about the bump earlier in the day, as you might expect and Dave says he's pretty damn lucky he didn't miss the ring because he almost certainly would have died if he took that bump straight to the floor. Elsewhere on the show, there was a match where porn star Lizzy Borden (wife of XPW promoter Rob Black) faced another porn star, Veronica Caine, in a match that was supposed to end only when someone was stripped totally naked. But right before it happened, the lights went out and the women were rushed out of the ring and when fans realized they'd been ripped off, they were so pissed the arena feared a riot. (Anyway, here's the bump and yeah....Grimes very easily could have died from this. No mention from Dave on the fact that New Jack also tazed him before this)
Shane Douglas is expected to take over as XPW booker when his WCW contract with Time Warner expires next month.
Former WCW journeyman wrestler Chip Minton's primary career was bobsledding. He only wrestled in WCW occasionally while doing that, primarily as a jobber on the C-shows. Minton was part of the US bobsledding team in both the 1994 and 1998 Winter Olympics and was planning to compete this year, but failed to make the team. Soon after that, he failed a steroid test and has been suspended from the sport for 2 years.
Remember a couple weeks ago, it was mentioned that Roddy Piper was in a car accident but he was playing down how serious it was? Turns out....very serious. Piper suffered 4 broken ribs, one of which punctured his liver and nearly killed him. He also suffered severe back injuries and shattered his ankle. Piper was taken to the hospital and was near death but obviously, he managed to pull through and has still been making all his appearances for XWF in recent days. (Yeah I think in Piper's autobiography, he dedicates the book to the guy who saved his life by rushing him to the hospital and even says he was clinically dead for a few moments. Then again, Piper was like a lot of those old time guys and was prone to exaggeration, so who knows).
Eric Bischoff is teaming up with Mark Burnett, the producer of the hit show Survivor, to produce a MMA reality show called Skien. From Dave's understanding, it will basically be a reality show with K-1 kickboxers leading up to a PPV event. (Here's an article about it from Variety at the time, but this ends up going nowhere).
Notes from Raw: only one thing really notable, they filmed a segment at referee Tim White's bar The Friendly Tap. The bar really is owned by White and WWF pretty much always films angles there when they're in town (Providence, RI). This time, the skit featured the APA going into the bar to drink and the bar was filled by a bunch of gay men and drag queens (played by a bunch of wrestlers from indie promotion Chaotic Wrestling) while the APA guys acted all grossed out by it all. Then Billy and Chuck attacked them. Dave thinks this played on all the typical homophobic stereotypes and he seems pretty irritated by it. Anyway, among the wrestlers from Chaotic were Todd Sinclair (better known now as ROH's senior official), Rich Palladino (ring announcer for Beyond now) and John Walters (indie wrestler and former ROH Pure champion).
Next week's Smackdown hasn't aired yet but it was taped and Dave has details. Notably, this is the episode where Austin chases down the NWO and tries to shoot them with a net gun. Dave says this was a mess, with the gun going off but no net being fired from it and they'll have to fix the whole thing in post-production. It went horribly when they filmed it and it aired for the live crowd and it killed the crowd and basically forced them to improvise on the spot (on one of the Something To Wrestle podcasts, Bruce Prichard tells this story and how frustrated they were with this net gun being a piece of shit). This episode also featured Stephanie yelling at Chris Jericho for getting her the wrong hand lotion and Booker T and Edge feuding over a Japanese shampoo commercial. (Rock/Hogan was great, but man, the build for everything else at Wrestlemania 18 suuuuuucked.)
Prototype won the OVW title from Leviathan at the latest OVW tapings. After the match, they did an angle to set up David Flair as the #1 contender for the title. Prototype's only singles loss in OVW came last week, when Flair beat him, so there ya go (this video covers ALL of that. The FlaiCena match, the Leviathan match, the post-match angle, etc).
Wall Street Journal did an article talking about the decline in Smackdown's ratings, saying they were down 28% from last year and down 42% from the year before that. The article blamed it on Smackdown changing networks. Here's the thing though....it hasn't. Raw changed networks in 2000. Smackdown has been on UPN since its debut. Also, UPN has grown overall in ratings while Smackdown has declined. So....no. It's just because the show sucks now.
Charlie Haas, fresh off returning to the ring and winning the HWA title after the death of his brother, tore his ACL this week. He just had surgery and will be out 4-6 months. Rough few months for that dude.
A Washington newspaper did a story on James Dudley, who you may know as....WWF Hall of Famer James Dudley and little else. On-screen, he's never really done much. But Dave says Dudley started working for Vince Sr. back in the 1940s, when Sr. was a boxing promoter, and was essentially his Vince Sr.'s driver and assistant. Dudley did a lot of odd jobs for the company during those early years, working ticket booths and stuff like that, but to most people, he was just kinda known as Vince Sr.'s limo driver. So when he was indicted into the WWF Hall of Fame a few years ago, it was a pretty controversial decision among a lot of people, given that someone like Bruno Sammartino isn't in, by the company's limo driver is. Anyway, before his death, Vince Sr. made Vince Jr. promise to take care of Dudley and keep him on the payroll. So for the last 18 years or so, even though he doesn't work for the company, Vince McMahon has continued to pay him a salary. He also bought him a new car as a gift some years back.
Billy and Chuck's recent tag team title win makes Billy Gunn the most decorated tag team wrestler in WWF history, as he's now held the tag titles 9 times (3 as part of the Smoking Gunns, 5 as part of New Age Outlaws, and now once with he and Chuck). The previous record was Mick Foley, with 8. (to the best of my research, if we're only talking WWF/WWE tag title reigns, that record is now held by Edge).
USA Network CEO Barry Diller took part in a lecture at Syracuse University and talked about losing the WWF to TNN. When asked why it happened, he responded, "Because I'm a dope." He said he didn't fight hard enough to keep the WWF and admitted the loss hurt, but also said it may have been the best thing for them in the long-run because pro wrestling doesn't really fit the direction they're planning to take the network. He said wrestling fans came for wrestling and left immediately after it was over and there was never any cross-over fans who stuck around to watch the next show or anything like that. He said they could never figure out what to connect wrestling to within the rest of their properties.
WWF held a try out camp in Cincinnati and reportedly, nobody was particularly impressive, including AJ Styles. The knock on Styles was that he's average looking and too small. Wrestler Sonny Siaki was said to be the most impressive, but he also rubbed people the wrong way with his attitude so probably not gonna make the cut this time. Matt Morgan, who was on the Tough Enough casting special last season got a tryout and since he has no formal training, he was pretty awful but he's big so Dave seems to think he'll get a chance anyway. The other one they were impressed by was a woman named Erin Bray, who was one of the final 25 picked for the original Tough Enough. But then some other contestants spotted her out on a date with one of the show's judges and they threw a fit, which resulted in Bray not making the final 13. Another wrestler, Travis Tomko, is a guy who has worked some indies and is a former bodyguard for Limp Bizkit ("Tomko, gimme a beat." "No.")
Rock was a presenter at the NAACP Awards and Dave thinks he looked pretty great for a guy who was almost murdered in an ambulance by the NWO a few days earlier. Cheeky Dave is just the best.
Speaking of, Dave throws in a random paragraph to backhandedly shit on Kevin Nash. For years, people in the business joked that Lex Luger made the most money with the least ability or drawing power of anyone ever in wrestling. Dave says it's gotta be Nash. For example, Nash is not wrestling and is only going to be in Hall's corner for the match at Wrestlemania (his knees really are giving him problems), but he has been promised that he's going to get the same type of payoff as if he was the guy in the match working with Austin in the semi-main event. Not to mention all the huge contracts he signed in WCW, or how he got a huge-by-WWF-standards deal here, plus got Vince to cave to almost all his other demands regarding schedule and bringing back Scott Hall, among other things. (I mean, while Dave is being kind of a dick here, I don't think he's really wrong either. When it comes to top draws in the history of the business, Nash isn't anywhere near even the top 10 or 20. And he's never exactly been a great wrestler. But since the 90s, Nash always managed to make sure he gets PAID like he's in that upper echelon. Nash is one of those very few wrestlers who isn't entranced by the fame or the fake accolades. He treats wrestling for what it is: a business. It's the way they pay their mortgages and buy groceries, just like you and me at our jobs. I love it. I laugh my ass off every time I hear "Brock Lesnar signed a huge new contract to only work 6 matches a year." Good for him. I hope he gets even more money for less dates next year. You should always know your worth and never let your employer take you for anything less. Nash has always been one of the guys to do that and he's probably going to die comfortably in a nice house while these other guys from his era are still clinging to fame at 60 years old doing $300 indie shows on crippled knees. Anyway, that's my soapbox). Dave seems to feel the same way and admits, love him or hate him, you gotta give Nash credit for being one of the smartest guys in the biz.
Fear Factor featuring the Hardyz, Lita, Test, Molly Holly, and Jacquelyn aired this week. First they had to climb up a rope ladder hanging from a helicopter over the river and they all made it up except Jeff Hardy who slipped near the top and fell (knowing Jeff, he probably purposely let go so he could take the big fall for fun). Lita also got eliminated for being the slowest one up the ladder. Next they had to chug a gross drink that included bile, rooster testicals, spleen, and some animal brains all blended together. Molly Holly almost vomited after one sip and was out. Jackie and Matt succeeded. Test refused to even try. So then it came down to Matt vs. Jackie and they had to walk across the tops of high poles and move flags around. Matt Hardy ended up winning the whole thing and won $50,000 for charity.
Sunday Night Heat is being converted into one of the B-shows like Metal and Jakked. Awhile back, they started airing Heat from the WWF New York restaurant but the production costs of that were high. So in a cost-cutting move, they're just gonna tape dark matches and throw them on Heat the same way they do those other shows, featuring all the nobodies that can't ever get TV time on the main shows.
As mentioned last week, Scott Hall has been taking a drug called Antabuse, which makes him violently sick when he drinks or even smells alcohol. It caused him to get sick after Raw last week when Austin poured beer all over him in a bit after the cameras were off. Hall has said he is clean and has been clean for awhile, except for the incident a couple weeks ago where he fell off the wagon. Others are skeptical and question if Hall only takes his medication on TV days and needless to say, there's some doubt here.
Everywhere he goes, Brian Christopher has been telling people he's coming back to WWF after Wrestlemania, but contrary to what he's saying, Dave says there are zero plans for that (indeed, it does not happen).
FRIDAY:More on WWA's PPV disaster, the landscape for any new promotion attempting to start up, WWF huge show in Japan, WWF loses appeal over "WWF" initials, Bret Hart given offer for Wrestlemania 18, and tons more...
A not-so-brief rundown of letters J-L of Jeffrey Epstein's 'Little Black Book'
Below is a rundown of letters J-L of Epstein's contacts. Last year, I wrote about letters A-C. You can check that out here (https://www.reddit.com/conspiracy/comments/cpis3n/a_brief_rundown_of_the_first_ten_pages_of_jeffrey/). I also wrote about letters D-F on July 5, 2020. You can check that out here (https://www.reddit.com/conspiracy/comments/hlrba8/a_notsobrief_rundown_of_letters_df_in_jeffrey/). I posted letters G-I on July 13, 2020. You can check that out here (https://www.reddit.com/conspiracy/comments/hqko0y/a_notsobrief_rundown_of_letters_gi_in_jeffrey/). There are some misspelled names. Epstein entered their names like this. I have bolded some of the more interesting connections and information, but there could be much more that I overlooked. I hope something here strikes an interest in someone and maybe we can get more investigations out of this. Please, if you know anything more about any of these people than what is presented here, post below. I am working off of the unredacted black book found here: https://www.coreysdigs.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/07/Jeffrey-Epsteins-Little-Black-Book-unredacted.pdf J-L Jackson, Michael (Samuel Gen): Yes, this is a reference to MJ the singer. However, the numbers listed are not MJ’s. They belong to Samuel Gen, a lawyer for a financial advisor (Jerry Seinfeld’s brother-in-law) who worked for MJ for a while. This one was a reach for Epstein. Jacobson, Julian: Likely a reference to a Managing Director at several London-based investment firms. Jagger, Mick: World-famous lead singer of the Rolling Stones. Has been seen in photographs with Ghislaine Maxwell. Actress Rae Dawn Chong claims she slept with Jagger when she was 15 years old. Jagger, Hatti: Former fashion director for Vogue, Harper’s, and Tatler. Also works as a celebrity stylist and at fashion shows. jake: Not enough info. Jameel, Mohammed: Saudi Arabian businessman. CEO of Abdul Latif Jameel, a collective of family-owned businesses that specialize in transportation, investing, and real estate. Royal pervert Prince Andrew infamously partied on Jameel’s yacht during the 2011 London riots (source: https://www.mirror.co.uk/news/uk-news/prince-andrew-frolicks-on-yacht-with-mystery-147496). James, Susie: Founder and owner of 123 Send Ltd, a company that provides payment terminals. Janklow, Linda: Literary agent and wife of Mort Janklow, the primary owner of Janklow & Nesbit Associates, the largest literary agency in the world. Attended a party hosted by Sony Pictures with Epstein, although they are not pictured together (source:https://www.patrickmcmullan.com/search/?event=5b3ef4fb9f92906676446c21). In 2007, Ghislaine Maxwell threw an exclusive party (80 carefully selected guests) at her NYC townhouse to celebrate the opening of a new shop by designer Allegra Hicks (granddaughter-in-law of Earl Mountbatten, who you can read more about in my G-I Epstein thread under India Hicks’s name). One of the eighty guests was Julie Landlow, daughter of Linda and Mort. Jarecki, Nancy & Andrew: Andrew is a filmmaker, co-founder of Moviefone, and was a producer on Catfish, the documentary that launched the popular MTV show. Andrew’s family was reportedly friends with Jeffrey Epstein. There is an EXCELLENT thread on the connections between the Jarecki family (especially Andrew and Nick’s father, Henry) and Epstein here (source:https://threadreaderapp.com/thread/1200044576947556352.html). Quick summary: Henry was born in Nazi Germany; flew on the Lolita Express; is an expert in psychotropic drugs; owns two islands in the British Virgin Islands; founded the first youth center in the British Virgin Islands; lived 2 miles from Epstein in NYC; owns and donates to many sketchy foundations, schools, and organizations; has donated at least $1 million to leftist organizations). Andrew’s wife Nancy created bettybeauty, a company that specializes in hair dye for your nether regions (not kidding). Jarecki, Nick: The movie director brother of Andrew and son of Henry Jarecki (see link under Andrew & Nancy Jarecki for more info). Reportedly dated Courtney Love (also in Epstein’s ‘Black Book’) in 2015. Photographed with Ghislaine Maxwell at a Gucci party (source:https://www.gettyimages.com/detail/news-photo/ghislaine-maxwell-and-nick-jarecki-attend-gucci-hosts-a-news-photo/591605562). Jason (canada): Not enough info. Could be artist Jason Wasserman based out of Canada. The second number listed traces back to Station 16 Gallery in Montreal. Javier: Javier Banon is former Co-head of Merchant Banking at Lehman Brothers and current Founding Partner of Trilantic Europe. Jeffries, Tim: Ownedirector of Hamiltons Gallery in London. Best known for dating models Elle Macpherson, Claudia Schiffer, Kylie Minogue and Sophie Dahl (also in Epstein’s ‘Black Book’). Jefferies has attended fundraisers for ARK Academy and the NSPCC. He truly cares about children. Johnson, Richard & Nadine: Nadine is a millionaire public relations guru. Nadine is a good friend of Ghislaine Maxwell’s. Some clients of Nadine Johnson include spirit cooking extraordinaire Marina Abramovic and hotelier Andre Balazs, good friend of Ghislaine. Richard is one of the most well-known gossip columnists and was the editor of Page Six for twenty-five years. There is a great thread detailing the Johnsons’ ties to the Clintons, Balazs, and others here (source:https://threader.app/thread/1162148078981394432). Basically, Richard Johnson is friendly with the Clintons and, as Page Six Editor, purposely did not report or downplayed stories on the Clintons and Nadine’s clients. He also took bribes. Considering Nadine is a good friend of Ghislaine, it would not be a stretch to assume that Richard could have buried stories on Maxwell and Epstein. I could spend 10 pages on the shady connections these two have. Johnson, Lucy: Not enough info. Jones, Ann & Mick: Mick is the guitarist of Foreigner, an immensely popular rock band in the ‘70s and ‘80s. His wife, Ann, is a jewelry designer, and friend of Ghislaine. Ann Jones was photographed at a party with Ghislaine and Donald Trump in 1997 (source:https://www.the-sun.com/news/85818/epstein-madam-ghislaine-maxwell-milked-billionaire-dad-and-threw-lavish-parties-with-beautiful-women/) Josephson, Barry & Jackie: Barry is a producer and the former President of Production for Columbia Pictures. Jackie is his ex-wife and also a producer. Karella, Kalliope: Wife of Prince Pierre d’Arenberg. Kalliope is a good friend of Ghislaine Maxwell. Kastner, Ron: No info found. Katz, Anton & Robin Plant: Anton is CEO and co-founder of Talos Trading, which specializes in cryptocurrency. Anton and Robin are friends of and have been photographed with Ghislaine (source: https://www.patrickmcmullan.com/search/?person=5b3ef50c9f929066764df255). Katzeneilenbogen, Mark: Long-time investment banker who used to be based out of South Africa. Keeling, Sarah: There is a Sarah Keeling in London who is a former British government official with 20 years of experience in national security and intelligence experience, however, the phone number listed has a 410 area code, which leads back to eastern Maryland. Inconclusive. Kegan, Rory: A nightclub designer and creator. Co-founder of the exclusive, celebrity-filled London nightclub, Chinawhite. Prince Andrew (source:https://www.thesun.co.uk/news/9818190/prince-andrew-pictures-cast-doubt-epstein-sex-slave/) and Prince Albert of Monaco are regulars. Chelsea Clinton has been there, as well (source:https://www.standard.co.uk/news/bright-night-for-china-white-6299739.html). Other patrons include: Prince Andrew, Kate Middleton, George Clooney, Leonardo DiCaprio, and more. Keidan, Amanda: Owner of Keidan Jewelry. Keidan, Jon: An entertainment executive-turned-venture capitalist. As an entertainment exec, Keidan worked with John Legend, Dave Matthews Band, and Nappy Roots. Keidan serves on the Council of Foreign Relations, a powerful group that some believe determines foreign policy. Former and current members include former presidents, current and former politicians, business magnates, and celebrities (https://www.cfr.org/membership/roster). Keller, Georgie: Interior designer. Kellette Frayse, Caroline: Fashion editor at Vogue and Tatler (both magazines constantly come up in Epstein’s contacts). Former girlfriend of Imran Khan, whose name has come up frequently. Passed away in 2014. Her husband, Jean-Marc Fraysse, is a French investment banker. Kelmenson, Leo-Arthur & Gayl: Leo was an advertising and marketing guru who has been credited with saving Chrysler. Friend and advisor to Lee Iacocca, former President of Chrysler. He worked as Special Project Officer for the U.S. Department of State under President John F. Kennedy and AG Robert F. Kennedy. He had tons of connections. His former maid accused him of sexual harassment in 2010 (source:https://www.nydailynews.com/new-york/maid-harassment-suit-claims-ad-exec-leo-arthur-kelmenson-madman-pervy-mad-men-wannabe-article-1.156915). Kelmenson died less than two months after the story came out. Kennedy Cuomo, Andrew & Kerry: Andrew is the current governor of New York. It’s no secret that Cuomo is willing to look the other way on sexual deviancy as long as he receives a payoff. Cuomo halted a probe into the handling of Harvey Weinstein’s case in New York after receiving $25,000 from Weinstein’s law firm (source:https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/bjbqg4/andrew-cuomo-received-dollar25000-donation-from-harvey-weinsteins-law-firm). Andrew’s brother, CNN Host Chris Cuomo famously told viewers “not to get caught up in the intrigue of who Epstein’s friends are” (source:https://www.realclearpolitics.com/video/2019/07/11/cnn_cuomo_lets_not_get_caught_up_in_the_intrigue_of_who_was_friends_with_jeffrey_epstein.html). Perhaps, he was covering for his brother. Kerry Kennedy is Cuomo’s ex-wife of fifteen years, the daughter of RFK, and a close friend of Ghislaine Maxwell. Supposedly, Kennedy provided Ghislaine with informal illegal advice (source:https://www.splicetoday.com/politics-and-media/the-nth-word-and-m-theory). Kennedy Jr. Ted: Son of Ted Kennedy and nephew of JFK and RFK. Ted Jr. dabbled in politics and currently works as a lawyer. His father, Ted, was a notorious sexual abuser (allegedly). Kennedy, Bobby & Mary: Bobby is the son of RFK and nephew of JFK. Bobby is a known drug abuser and philanderer. Bobby kept a sex journal detailing his conquests while he was married (source:https://nypost.com/2013/09/08/rfk-jr-s-sex-diary-of-adultery/). His ex-wife, Mary, committed “suicide” two years after their divorce. Before committing suicide, Mary told a friend that she “feared for her life” and Bobby told her that she “would be better off dead” (source:https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3231043/How-serial-cheater-Bobby-Kennedy-Jr-strutted-family-home-exposing-private-parts-demanded-m-nage-trois-wife-Mary-went-public-Cheryl-Hines-telling-Mary-things-easier-killed-herself.html). Kennedy, Ethel: Widow of RFK Sr. and mother of eleven, including Bobby Kennedy, Kerry Kennedy, and Joseph Kennedy II. Kennedy, Jo: Joseph Kennedy II is the son of RFK Sr. and Ethel. Served in the House of Representatives from 1987-1999. In 1973, Joseph was convicted of negligent driving after paralyzing a young woman. He was fined $100. Kennedy, Senator Edward: Brother of JFK and RFK, Ted Kennedy served as U.S. Senator of Massachusetts for 47 years. Besides politics, Ted is best known for the Chappaquiddick incident in which a young female speechwriter for RFK drowned to death when he lost control of his vehicle while driving across a bridge. He was charged with leaving the scene of an incident and given a two month suspended sentence. Ted was also notorious for his extramarital affairs. Senator Kennedy once hosted a party at his house attended by Bill Clinton and Lynn Forester de Rothschild. Rothschild wrote a letter to Clinton afterwards in which she mentions that they spoke about Epstein (source:https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-7283825/Jeffrey-Epstein-injured-jail-cell-following-possible-suicide-assault.html). It is unclear what was said or what Rothschild’s connection could possibly be. Kersner, Sol: South African accountant and hotel and casino magnate who died of cancer in 2020. Kerzner was a close friend of Donald Trump. They even worked together to create The Palm, a man-made island off the coast of Dubai (source:https://www.ft.com/content/46393280-d9f9-11da-b7de-0000779e2340). Kerzner was also close friends with Sarah Ferguson, Duchess of York (https://www.gettyimages.com/detail/news-photo/sarah-ferguson-the-duchess-of-york-sol-kerzner-chairman-and-news-photo/83768272), Naomi Campbell (https://www.gettyimages.ca/detail/news-photo/naomi-campbell-and-sol-kerzner-pose-backstage-during-the-news-photo/82869744), and Bill Clinton (https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-8144647/As-Sol-Kerzner-dies-aged-84-RICHARD-KAY-looks-riotously-louche-life.html). Kerzner was very good friends with Nelson Mandela and built his casino resorts with Gerard Inzerillo, who you can read about in my G-I ‘Black Book’ thread. Khayat, Antoine, Jana, & George: Jana is an heiress and businesswoman. Jana is the niece of Galen Weston, a close friend of Prince Charles. George is her brother and CEO of Associated British Foods. Jana’s husband, Antoine, is a former banker and currently runs their vineyard. Kidd, Jemma: Kidd is a British makeup artist, fashion model, and aristocrat. Married to Arthur Wellesley, Earl of Mornington, the son of the Duke and Duchess of Wellington, making her a Countess. Kidd is an interesting figure with elite connections. From 2005-2012, Ghislaine Maxwell served as Director of Jemma Kidd Make-Up Limited, a U.K. makeup company, which was founded by Kidd. Not only did Ghislaine serve as Director, but she was also a shareholder, along with the Rothschild family (source:https://nationalpost.com/news/world/in-hiding-for-years-epstein-accomplice-ghislaine-maxwell-spotted-in-l-a-burger-shop). If you click around the PDFs on this website (https://beta.companieshouse.gov.uk/company/05340072/filing-history), you can see everything. The 16 JUN 2006 PDF on page 3 shows you a list of Officers and shareholders of the company. Jemma Kidd has also attended charity events for the National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children (NSPCC) (https://www.alamy.com/stock-photo-beckham-nspcc-party-jemma-kidd-106882170.html). Her sister, Jodie, is also a huge supportefundraiser of the NSPCC, as well as the Help a London Child and Monsoon Accessorize Trust charities, both of which help out disadvantaged children (source:https://www.looktothestars.org/celebrity/jodie-kidd). King, Abby: No info found. Kirwin Taylor, Charlie & Helen: Charles is an investment banker. He was former CEO of Credit Suisse in Switzerland, an investment firm which shows up a few times through Epstein’s contacts. His wife, Helen, is a journalist. Kirwin Taylor, Peter: British financier. Was a member of the Pilgrims Society (https://isgp-studies.com/pilgrims-society-membership-list), a group that has included the Rothschilds, Rockefellers, and other elites amongst its ranks. Kissinger, Dr. Henry A: Former U.S. Secretary of State and National Security Advisor under Nixon. Kissinger has long been accused of committing war crimes (ex: carpet bombing Cambodia, installing fascist governments in Chile and Argentina, genocide, extending our stay in Vietnam, etc) yet somehow managed to win a Nobel Peace Prize in 1973. Kissinger once said, “Military men are dumb, stupid animals to be used as pawns for foreign policy.” Kissinger served with Epstein on the Trilateral Commission. Kissinger has also been a member of the Bilderberg Group, the Council on Foreign Relations, the Aspen Institute, and Bohemian Grove. Long thought to be an advocate for a globalist New World Order, Kissinger is a scumbag of the highest order. His connections with Gates, the Clintons, Bush Sr. and Jr., the Rockefellers, and the Rothschilds are well-documented. If anyone here has ever done any research regarding the NWO, you have undoubtedly seen Kissinger’s name several times. Klee, Rupert & Charlotte de: Rupert is a Director with Oakridge Group, a property development and investment company. His wife, Charlotte, is the producer of the religious plays at Wintershall. Klesch, Johnathan: Former Director of Klesch Trading, which specializes in industrial commodities. It has offices in Russia, Malta, Surrey, and in London, down the block from Buckingham Palace. Koch, David: Co-founder of Koch Industries, a diversified manufacturing conglomerate. Koch Industries has stolen oil from Indian reservations, committed hundreds of polluting, labor, and workplace safety violations. When he ran on the Libertarian ticket as the vice presidential nominee in 1980, Koch aimed to abolish Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, welfare benefits, and minimum wage. Koch and Epstein were friends. Epstein even attended a party at Koch’s Southampton home (https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-7270735/Jeffrey-Epstein-Trumps-closest-advisers-Wilbur-Ross-Rudy-Giuliani-Steve-Mnunchin.html). Koch has also been photographed with Ghislaine Maxwell (https://www.reddit.com/KochWatch/comments/dcjth3/david_koch_ghislaine_maxwell_getty_images/). Thankfully, Koch died last year. Kohl, Astrid: A businesswoman involved in pharmaceuticals. Married to Prince Alexander of Liechtenstein. Daughter-in-law of Prince Philipp of Liechtenstein. Niece of former German Chancellor, Helmut Kohl. Kotic, Boby: CEO of Activision Blizzard, a video game holding company. Used to run several electronic companies. From 2003-2008, he was a director at Yahoo! In 2012, he became a non-executive director of Coca-Cola. Kotze, Alex Von: British businessman involved in the tech industry. Kravetz, Anna: Not much info found. Has a degree in finance from Wharton School and used to live on Park Avenue in NYC. Krooth, Caryn: A successful real estate agent based out of Los Angeles Kudrow, Alistar: No info found. Lal, Dalamal: Director of Akron Corp. & Akron (Nig.) Ltd., a food and beverage import company based out of Nigeria. Lalaunis, Demetra: Daughter of Ilias Lalaounis, a pioneer in Greek jewelry and a world renowned goldsmith. Lambert, Christopher: Well-known actor. Lambert, David: Former partner, managing director, and VP at Goldman Sachs. Lambert, Edward: Lampert is a billionaire hedge fund manager and former CEO of Sears. Lampert graduated from Yale University in 1984 where he was a member of Skull and Bones. Rumored pedophile David Geffen gave Lampert $200 million to invest in 1992, when Lampert was just 29 years old. Lampert made Geffen $1 billion. Lambos Duff & John: Karen “Duff” Duffy is an actress, model, and TV personality. She has had memorable roles as the love interest in “Blank Check” and as JP Shay in “Dumb and Dumber.” Duffy has battled with sarcoidosis, a deadly central nervous system disease, since the mid-’90s. She credits Harvey Weinstein with saving her life (https://nypost.com/2000/10/03/coping-with-class-this-model-patient-suffers-in-style/). John is a former banker with Morgan Stanley and current President of GCA-US, an investment banking company. Lang, Caroline: An art expert and Chairman at Sotheby’s Switzerland. Lange, Dieter: Former Partner at WilliamHare, an international law firm with offices in London, Berlin, the U.S., Beijing, and Brussels. Passed away in 2010. Larsen Janet: The only one I can find is a Business Psychologist based out of London. Laurie, Jonathan: Founder and CEO of Cheyne Capital Management, an alternate investment fund firm. Lavlada, Laura D.B. de: Laura Diez Barroso is a Mexican businesswoman. She sold her stock in Televisa for $726 million in 1993. Since then, she has been the head of several other companies. Lawford Christopher & Jean: Christopher was an actor and relative of the Kennedys. His uncles were JFK, RFK, and Ted Kennedy. Many of his relatives appear in Epstein’s ‘Black Book’. His first wife, Jeannie, was an ad-sales associate for New York Magazine. Lawton Paul: Two British businessmen with the same name come up. Both have extensive resumes. Could be either one. Lazar, Christopher & Marie: Christophe seems to be a realtor in Paris, but I am not completely sure. Le Bon, Simon & Jasmine: Simon is the lead singer of Duran Duran. His wife, Yasmin, is/was a fashion model. Yasmin is represented by Models1 in London. Models1 also represents Epstein and Ghislaine’s friend, Naomi Campbell. Le Bon has been accused of sexual assault in the past (https://www.freep.com/story/news/2018/07/12/simon-le-bons-accuser-sex-assault-claim-speaks-out-awful/777106002/). Le Fur, Jean-Yves: French businessman and magazine creator. He was once Princess Stephanie of Monaco’s ex-fiance. More notably, Le Fur was the one who discovered supermodel Karen Mulder (his girlfriend at the time) on the floor after she attempted suciide. Mulder blew the lid off the rampant rape and sexual abuse that she and her modeling colleagues had suffered at the hands of businessmen, royalty, celebrities, and government officials. She was even the protege of Epstein collaborator (allegedly), Jean Luc Brunel (https://www.miamiherald.com/news/local/article238351108.html). Le Marg Willie: No info found. Lea, Piers: CEO of Learning Technologies Group, a workplace digital learning company. Leeds, Jeffrey: Co-founder and Managing Partner of Leeds Equity. One of Leeds Equity’s partner companies is Endeavor Schools, which runs private preschools, primary schools, and secondary schools in Florida and 11 other states (https://www.leedsequity.com/news/articles/leeds-equity-partners-completes-investment-in-endeavor-schools). They are also partners with Fusion Educational Group (now Fusion Academy), which runs a chain of private secondary schools (https://www.leedsequity.com/news/articles/leeds-equity-partners-completes-investment-in-fusion-education-group). Former teacher Kris White, now the head of Fusion Academy in Palo Alto, allegedly told a student that he was in love with her and wrote her a note saying he was “obsessed” with her. (https://www.mercurynews.com/2020/07/12/teachers-named-in-presentation-high-sex-investigation-kept-working-as-bay-area-educators-for-years/). This story was just published on July 12, 2020. Hypothetically, if one wanted to procure underage children, it would certainly help if the head of the school was on board and possibly a pedophile himself. According to this former teacher at Fusion Academy, “many students struggle with learning differences, behavioral issues, and/or addictions” (https://www.glassdoor.com/Reviews/Employee-Review-Fusion-Academy-RVW21260629.htm). In other words, the downtrodden and vulnerable. Fusion Academy refers to itself as a non-traditional school that focuses on individual students. Seems like a great opportunity. Leeds was also good friends with Epstein (https://nymag.com/nymetro/news/people/n_7912/) and has close ties to Colin Powell and Rudy Giuliani (https://nypost.com/2016/09/14/colin-powell-wont-vote-for-her-because-of-bill-clinton/). Lefcourt, Jerry: Famous lawyer who defended Epstein in 2007. That same year, Epstein donated $250,000 to the Washington-based Foundation for Criminal Justice, where Lefcourt was a board member. Lester, Dominick: Founder and owner of MortgageFlex Systems, a mortgage lending company. Levine, Phillip: Ex-Miami Beach mayor and close friend of Bill and Hillary Clinton. He claims that he doesn’t know how Epstein got his contact information… all 13 phone numbers, including those of his driver and housekeepers (https://www.miaminewtimes.com/news/ex-miami-beach-mayor-philip-levine-listed-13-times-in-jeffrey-epsteins-black-book-11242116)! Liman, Doug: Popular Hollywood director and producer. He directed Swingers, The Bourne Identity, and a couple of Tom Cruise movies. Lindeman-Barnet, Sloan & Roger: Sloan has been a New York Times bestseller and an on-air and print reporter for NBC, ABC, and Reuters. Sloan and Roger also sit on the board of the Spence School in New York City, a private K-12 all-girls school (https://www.spenceschool.org/2017---news-detail?pk=999120). Her husband, Roger, is the founder of beauty.com and Chairman and CEO of Shaklee, a highly successful nutrition company. Donald Trump, Melania Trump, and Ghislaine Maxwell all attended the publication party for Sloan’s book in 2008 (https://www.gettyimages.com/detail/news-photo/ghislaine-maxwell-anton-katz-and-robin-katz-attend-sloan-news-photo/619921016;https://www.gettyimages.co.uk/detail/news-photo/donald-trump-melania-trump-sloan-barnett-and-roger-barnett-news-photo/619921180).Other guests included Steve Mnuchin, Epstein and Maxwell chum Carol Mack, and a bunch of others also featured in Epstein’s ‘Black Book’ (Colin Cowie, Anton and Robin Katz, and Vittorio Assaf). Lindemann, Adam & Elizabeth: Adam is a billionaire investor and art gallery owner. Brother of Sloan (mentioned just above). Elizabeth is his ex-wife. She is often photographed with many other people mentioned in Epstein’s ‘Black Book.’ Lindemann, George(Sr.) & Freida: Now-deceased billionaire father of Sloan and Adam. George was the CEO and Chairman of Southern Union, a pipeline company and served as Vice President of the Metropolitan Opera Association of NYC. His wife, Frayda, is the President and CEO of the Metropolitan Opera. Lindsay, Alex & Jaclyn: Alex is a war documentary maker who rents out his loft at the address Epstein has listed (https://www.independent.co.uk/property/house-and-home/property/spheres-of-influence-72014.html). Lindsey, Ludovic: Racecar driver. Lindsley, Blake: Actress who was in two movies directed by Doug Liman (also in Epstein’s book) - “Swingers” and “Getting In.” Linley, David: Princess Margaret’s son, Queen Elizabeth II’s nephew, and first cousin of Prince Charles and Prince Andrew. Linley is a furniture maker and the 2nd Earl of Snowdon. He used to be the Chairman of Christie’s auction house in the UK. Liogos, Babis: No info found, but one of the numbers traces back to Thylan Associates, a real estate and investment firm. Lister, Paul: Likely the director of legal services and company secretary for Associated British Foods, or it could be a conservationist. Not sure which. Livanos, Arriette: I believe this Arietta Livanos, wife of Greek shipping magnate, Stavros Livanos. Arietta passed away in 1986. Lo Cascio, Robert: Founder and CEO of LivePerson, a tech company that develops conversational commerce. LoCascio was photographed with Ghislaine at an after party in 2012 (https://www.gettyimages.com/detail/news-photo/ghislaine-maxwell-and-robert-locascio-attend-osklen-spring-news-photo/1169681572). Loeb, Alex: Alexandra is the daughter of John Loeb, former U.S. Ambassador to Denmark under Reagan and former Delegate to the United Nations. John Loeb was also a special advisor to Nelson Rockefeller. Alexandra is also a descendant of the Lehman family (Lehman Brothers). Alexandra graduated from Spence Day School for Girls (mentioned earlier under Sloan and Roger Lindemann-Barnett). Lonsdale, Richard: British investment banker. Lorenzoti, Eva Vivre: Founder of luxury online retailer, Vivre.com and is a TV spokesperson/personality. Good friend of Ghislaine Maxwell. Maxwell and a couple of Rockefellers were guests at her house for a dinner party in 2010 (https://hauteliving.com/2010/11/doris-world-eva-lorenzottis-dinner-party/105102/). Lorimer, John & Lottie: John works as a private investor and as a realtor. His wife, Lottie, is an interior designer. Louthan Guy J: Prolific British film producer and former boyfriend of actress Liz Hurley (also in Epstein’s book). Love, Courtney: Famous drug addict, musician, and actress who likely killed her husband, Kurt Cobain. Courtney famously claimed that Prince Andrew showed up to her house late one night in 2000 looking for sex. She has since retracted this claim. The entries under Love’s name all say ‘Dana’ next to them. This is Courtney’s ex-boyfriend, Dana Giacchetto. Giacchetto was considered to be the “stockbroker to the stars” and was friends with JFK Jr, Leonardo DiCaprio, Johnny Depp, and many others. He ripped his clients off of millions. Even more telling, Giacchetto was involved in a sex abuse case against X-Men director Bryan Singer (https://www.yahoo.com/entertainment/news/leonardo-dicaprios-convicted-ex-money-manager-denies-bryan-050000120.html). He died in 2016 after he partied too hard and overdosed (https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/news/dana-giacchetto-dead-stockbroker-stars-902383). Lowell, Ivana: Guinness heiress who wrote about Harvey Weinstein’s sexual abuse while she worked at Miramax in her book back in 2010 (https://www.irishcentral.com/culture/entertainment/guinness-heiress-spoke-out-about-predator-harvey-weinstein-7-years-ago). She also dated Harvey’s younger brother, Bob. Loyd Mark: No info found. Lucas, Colin: The godfather of Boris Johnson, England’s current Prime Minister. Lucas is a British historian and university administrator. Served as Vice Chancellor of Oxford University from 1997-2004.
Recommendations for a resort / experience for my fobby, frugal Asian parents for Christmas
I live in San Francisco but my parents live in LA. I'm looking for a resort or experience to give my parents anytime between the December 22 - January 2. Ideally it would be 1-3 days. I took my parents to Florida once and they were more entertained by the Hard Rock Casino than me taking them to the Everglades or South Beach. They're not into touristy places or money traps like Disneyland although they really do enjoy light gambling and eating. They're the type to be mostly just on their iPads updating their Facebooks (especially my mom), exploit seafood buffets, and pose infront of anything that looks like a statue. I don't know if they would enjoy the zoo or an aquarium. They're into outlets but not really into huge malls unless there is something to pose next to. It's just I would rather pay for everything upfront ahead of time, like paying for all the buffet dinners or spa time than having them see me pay every single time. I was thinking about taking them to Pala in SD but would rather find something a bit closer. Does anyone have any ideas? If it's really worth it, I wouldn't mind taking them somewhere past LA.
2020 was already getting off to a bad start. Here it was New Year’s Day in Biloxi, Mississippi and I was already down four-hundred for the year. And it was only noon... Of course, the black-eyed peas didn’t help. No good luck charm could cure my current drought at the Imperial Palace’s poker room. This was the last day my buddies and I would be out here. Our final day touring Biloxi’s many casinos. Just like years past, The Vegas Of The South hadn’t been kind to me. But I still had fun. Your wacky horror author Rhonnie enjoyed poker after all. Even when I was constantly being battered by bad beats. There were four of us out here. Me and my Stanwyck, Georgia poker pals. I was the youngest of the bunch. Scrawnier than ever, my combed-over brown hair was still a mess from this wild binge of booze and cards. My green eyes wild with drunken life. The gambling fix just what I needed after a hectic 2019. Obviously, I missed Ashley… But I suspected she was doing just fine partying with Carty and Erika in Columbus, Georgia. The power trio indulging in their own New Year’s blitz of margaritas and dancing. My friends J.T., David, and Trent were all with me. From playing nickel/dime house games to $1/3 at the IP, we brought the rowdiness of South Georgia with us to this fine establishment... much to the chagrin of all the dealers and poker players. A few years older than me, David was a stocky, red-headed Southern boy. The combination of his loud voice and drunk shit talking ensured we’d never keep a low-profile. David always unrestrained unless he was behind bars or in a strait-jacket. J.T. was similar but more stable. At forty, he’d skirted by authority and drama with the type of good luck he inexplicably had at the casinos. Tall and lanky, J.T. was Hispanic in ethnicity but a crazed country boy at heart. And with him and David together, their fighting and flirting hit a manic overdrive. Trent only dealt with them due to experience... J.T. was his ex-brother-in-law after all. Trent was the most reserved out of us. Even drunk, he didn’t cut up much. His bushy beard and piercing eyes certainly gave him clout on the felt. Not to mention he was the only one with a real job. With real money to spare. When David, J.T., and I inevitably went broke, the three of us followed Trent around like roadies desperate for a rock star’s sloppy seconds. New Year’s Day was just a chaotic continuation of our three-day bender. At noon, everyone but Trent was already hammered. The constant “free” beer and vodka our only way of staving off the New Year’s Eve hangovers hunting us down… This early, the IP’s card room was empty save for one $1/3 table. The usual players probably still out recovering from the previous night’s festivities. Party favors and empty bottles littered the other tables. The room’s 60s soft rock soundtrack well overshadowed by the constant chimes of neighboring slots. The four of us had table eight together. Under bright lighting, we enjoyed the game with four other Hold Em stragglers. I only recognized Lily a hot regular I’d seen over in Gretna, Florida’s poker room. Someone from our neck of the woods. Wearing Louis Vuitton sunglasses and flaunting her stylish short brown hair, she was the only female player here... And already, both David and J.T. had tried her. And already she’d insulted them right back. Not to mention took the last of David’s pathetic chip stack. Table eight’s other players included the usual low stakes caricatures. The shitregs. A depressed dad with an equally depressing dad bod. The smartass college kid masquerading as a poker pro. And an older farmer still wearing overalls, the type of surreal sight you somehow take for granted in Biloxi. Our dealer was a bitchy man in his mid-40s. The type of rude personality reserved for the casino’s deader shifts. None of the players were any good. Then again, I couldn’t talk much. My thirty-big-blind buy-in strategy had been continually getting crushed by suckouts. Usually by Trent. Needless to say, he and Lily were the big winners so far… Their colorful chip stacks even contained stray hundred dollar bills. But somehow, J.T.’s drunkass had even more. Obnoxious as ever, the son-of-a-bitch had been running off Fireball cinnamon whiskies since the ball dropped. And here he was with over three grand on the table. A stack of Benjamins clustered amongst his towers. Now the farmer had just thrown in another hundred dollar bill. J.T. snap called. Farmer showed three of a kind. J.T. hesitated for a moment... either he was too drunk to read the board or slow-rolling his opponent. My guess was both. Finally, J.T. slung down the winning hand: ten four of diamonds. A flush on the river. I rolled my eyes in disbelief. Laughing, J.T. collected his latest pot. Another two hundred for his growing stack. “Nice hand, sir!” he taunted the frowning farmer. “You see that shit, Trent! I played that shit like you!” Broke and on his tenth Corona, David now sat behind me. A rail I never asked for… but an entertaining one at least. He leaned in toward me. “Hey, here she comes!” A red-headed waitress complete with an hourglass figure and flawless face walked toward us. Right into David’s carnal sights. Then again, I couldn’t blame him. He waved his beer at her. “Hey, I need another one!” Annoyed, she stopped and jotted down his order. David grabbed my shoulder. “What are you having!” “Miller Lite,” I said to her, my calm voice the opposite of David’s rowdy roar. “Alright, I’ll be right back,” the waitress said. With drunken confidence, David reached toward her. “Hey, sweetie, what’s your name?” He just missed her… The waitress was in a hurry. “None of your business!” she yelled back. With that, she high-tailed it straight for the table games. Then again, neither of us were complaining to watch her leave… Only the beer was definitely gonna take awhile. Especially once she stopped to take an order from a young bodybuilder. A hunk by the slots. Excited, the redhead leaned in closer. A rare smile on her face. Her thirst obvious… David turned to me. “Hey, why’s she talking to him like that!” “Damn, boy, she got you good!” Trent teased. David shrugged him off. “Man, fuck you, Trent!” “Language!” our dealer warned us in a pissed-off growl. Trent collected another pot. “I don’t think she like you anyhow,” he told David. “She just playing hard to get!” David yelled. The alcohol hitting him hard, David leaned in toward the table. “I bet I can get her before the day’s over with! I’ll get her in my room-” Like a brick wall, a fat arm blocked David. A pot-bellied security guard glared over him. “Move back, son!” David threw up his hands. “Alright!” J.T.’s crude laughter echoed through the room. The rest of the table cracked up in a sadistic chorus. Even the dealer. Keeping my cool, I pointed David behind me. “Just sit here, man. Drink the beer.” “Get your brokeass back, David!” J.T. jeered. “Man, whatever.” David moved his chair behind me. Flashed a glare at the guard. “There? You happy?” Behind a cold expression, the guard just stared at us. Completely unamused. I looked over at a corner where the front desk was. Where all the chips and cash were. The clerk just watched us, her dark eyes like lasers. David again the center of attention. A wave of cold air hit us. My FSU hoodie couldn’t keep me from shivering. And regardless of all the booze, I suspected David’s long-sleeved AC/DC shirt wasn’t helping him much either. I looked down at my cards. Ten three offsuit. Yet another fold on my fucking big blind. Then a rotten smell hit me. Well from beyond the grave. The scent more putrid than roadkill. “Is this one three hold em?” I heard a guttural drawl say. The entire table looked toward our latest player. Hopefully, our latest fish. The black man certainly looked the part. Dressed in rumpled jeans and a red jacket with rolled-up sleeves, he was in his fifties. His scruffy beard matched by greasy Jheri curls. Years of wildness captured in his arsenal of tattoos and odd jewelry. The skull-and-bones earrings and gold teeth certainly hinted at what was sure to be an eccentric gambler. The man’s stern gaze locked in on the security guard. “Is it one-three?” he asked in that muddled Cajun accent. With a flourish, he pulled out a bundle of Benjamins. Well over five-hundred dollars. Immediately, the guard went to work getting those chips. Him and the clerk eager to count the dough. The Cajun took a seat right beside J.T. Seat number seven. “Holy shit…” J.T. exclaimed. He flashed David and I a drunken smirk. But soon, that smile was wiped clean. The wild man didn’t know what the fuck he was doing and he may have been stinking up the place with a corpse’s hygiene, but he was damn sure winning. Even Trent and Lily’s stacks were going downhill. Left with only fifty bucks on the table, I just enjoyed the show as David kept the beer flowing. Him and I an audience for this black Cajun man’s rampage. Ashley sent me an obvious drunk text: I love you :) Grinning, I texted her back: The two of us drunk at noon on New Year’s Day. How cute. J.T.’s triumphant yell then caught my attention. “Whoo!” He slid out a huge tower into the pot. The arrogance such an obvious tell… “Come get some!” he shouted at the Cajun. The man deliberated on the river bet. Like a young gunslinger, J.T. leaned toward him. Trying to get eye-to-eye. “Come on, call me!” he yelled, desperate to antagonize the man. The dealer forced J.T. back. “Sir, please don’t lean over the table.” Holding his latest mixed drink, J.T. waved toward his opponent. “I don’t care! I’ll call clock on his ass!” “Aw-in!” the man stated. He pushed his huge stack out. Everyone watched, dumbfounded... but fucking entertained. Even if we didn’t quite understand the man’s dialect... The dealer leaned in toward him. “Uh, sir. Was that an all-in?” “Aw-in!” the Cajun declared. “I said aw-in!” Now put on the spot, J.T. trembled in the cold. His weakness well on display. “Goddammit!” he yelled. His good mood long gone, he threw the cards toward the dealer. The confident drunk now hurtling through depression. “Language, sir,” the dealer reminded him. “I don’t give a fuck!” J.T. replied. Now David was the one laughing his ass off… J.T. motioned toward the Cajun. “How the Hell you keep winning these hands!” With a smile of gold rather than teeth, the man faced J.T. “Dat’s juss how I play, boy.” I couldn’t help but crack up. Trent covered his own chuckle. “Yeah, and you stink like Hell too,” J.T. said. Cackling, the Cajun stacked up his winnings. Lily looked over at J.T. “Maybe that’s part of his strategy.” “Well, I’m about to bust that shit! Fuck his strategy!” J.T. shouted. “And you wanna know why!” He looked down at his latest cards. “Because I’m J.T. Torres! That’s why!” On the warpath, he took out his phone. “I’m about to get in my zone, Rhonnie!” I cringed. Simultaneously amused and embarrassed. Tom Petty’s “Last Dance With Mary Jane” blasted off J.T.’s phone. Over the IP’s soundtrack. Over Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Bad Moon Rising.” J.T. glared at the whole table. “I ain’t playing now! Who wants some of this!” “It’s one three, boy,” Trent quipped. Growing more and more aggravated, the dealer confronted J.T. “Sir, you can’t play music,” he said in an exasperated tone. The security guard approached us. “No phones on the table!” he barked at J.T. J.T. cut off the music. “Alright, that’s fine!” Without hesitation, he waved at his stack. “Fuck it, I’m all-in!” “Sir-” the dealer began. “I caw!” the Cajun cried. With everyone else out, he flipped over his cards. Pocket aces. The fucking bullets. A dramatic intensity dominated the table. Only the ominous beat of “Bad Moon Rising” could be heard. The man’s rotten stench like cigarette smoke in the arena’s atmosphere. This heavyweight match we all anticipated now looking to be a quick knockout. “Oh shit!” Trent joked to J.T. “You done fucked up!” The twisting knife sent J.T. further into his downward spiral. Anger built inside him. He threw up his pocket kings. “Goddammit!” he said. “How much does he have?” “He’s got you,” remarked the dealer in a not-so-subtle jab. The Cajun chuckled. “I got you covered, boy!” And he damn sure did. J.T.’s fifteen-hundred dollar stack was in a world of pain. “Fuck!” J.T. yelled. I then noticed the man jam both his hands inside those hoodie pockets. Burrowing them in deep. “What the fuck!” I heard J.T. say to me. “What the fuck else could I do, Rhonnie! I had fucking kings!” I watched the Cajun’s lips move... but his voice didn’t carry. He was mumbling… All while his eyes stayed glued to the center of the table. To where the cards would fall. An unsettling realization hit me. The guy was praying… Mumbling some sort of chant. “Luckyass bitch!” J.T. yelled. With indifferent efficiency, the dealer laid the board out quick. The Cajun wound up with four aces. J.T. gone from a bad beat to outright slaughtered. “Stick a fork in him!” Trent’s Southern accent joked. “Oh shit…” David chimed in. He nudged me but I was too disturbed to respond. Too drawn into whatever was going on in seat seven’s world. Full of rage, J.T. stood up, spilling some of his drink. “Man, fuck y’all!” The guard took an annoyed step toward us. “Sir!” he yelled. J.T. turned his irate eyes toward the Cajun. The man still had his hands in his pockets. His eyes still on the board. Still in prayer. “He comes in here stinking up the place!” J.T. continued. He stumbled toward his nemesis. “And what the Hell’s he doing now!” Trent glared at J.T. “Man, just leave him alone! Your ass can’t afford to play, you shouldn’t be here nohow!” In his trance, the Cajun stayed in his seat. Still chanting. His hands still hidden deep in those pockets. Moving quick, the guard took off for the slots. His walkie-talkie at the ready. Eager for back-up. David faced J.T. “Goddamn, man, chill!” “Fucking idiot,” I heard Lily grumble. The alcohol giving him fake toughness, J.T. pushed the man back. “How in the Hell did you win that!” Startled, the Cajun stumbled up. His eyes in a panic. A disturbing amulet stuck in his sweaty hand. The table gasped and screamed. Us drunks louder and more terrified than the rest. The horrifying smell somehow got more sickening. I sifted in my seat. My ass still in pain from when Nicki Minaj fucked me. “What the fuck!” J.T. yelled at his rival. Trembling, the man looked at each of us. Too scared to talk. Still clinging to a baby wolf. A real, dead baby wolf. Like a furry fetus, its decomposing corpse resembled a crude outline of life. A tiny, crumbling cadaver. The pup’s hollow skin in a post-mortem preservation. Its blue eyes forever open. And the Cajun had been holding this wolf for a very long time. A good luck charm in which the superstition outweighed the pup’s gruesome touch and nauseating stench. A necklace of a noose was wrapped around its small neck. Rather than a medallion, the wolf wore a shiny dime. One with a hole drilled in the middle of it... “It’s my Gris-Gris!” the man yelled in a guttural growl. Possessive, he pulled the wolf in closer. A literal baby in his arms. “You ain’t taking my Gris-Gris!” Through the tension, no one said a word. No one except J.T.. “Hey, gimme that shit!” J.T. yelled. Pissed, he snatched the corpse out of the Cajun’s desperate grip. “No!” the man cried. Tears formed in his eyes. “Gimme my Gris-Gris! My Loup Garou!” “So that’s how your ass has been winning!” J.T. continued. He held the baby wolf out toward the man. “That’s how you been getting all them Goddamn cards!” With savage glee, he flicked the dime. “This is your nastyass good luck charm!” The Cajun held his pitiful hands out toward J.T. Literally begging him… much to J.T.’s twisted delight. “I need him back!” he cried. “Gimme my Gris-Gris!” “Give him the damn thing!” Trent shouted at J.T. “Naw, Hell no!” J.T. replied. He squeezed on to the pup, making the wolf’s eyes even bigger. Further taunting the Cajun. “I need me some luck after this bitch took my chips!” Weeping, the man motioned toward the corpse. “It’s no good, boy! Dat wolf’s only good luck for me! He’s bad luck for you!” J.T. cackled. “Bullshit, bitch!” “Whoever touch it get bad luck!” Dismissive, J.T. looked toward the clerk. “Hey, get me three-hundred in chips! I’m reloading!” A flash of silver caught everyone’s eye. The machete whirled right through J.T.’s neck. A red river spread across his slit throat. For once, J.T. went silent. He dropped the wolf and grasped at the fatal wound. A fountain of blood poured out his mouth. The dead pup hit the felt. Its soft thud caused chips to collapse. Bits of its old flesh fragmented upon impact. The decomposing smell somehow hit new highs... “My Gris-Gris!” the Cajun screamed J.T. landed in his chair. His body convulsing in a painful rhythm. His death slow and steady. Blood now spewed all across table eight. David and I exchanged frightened looks. Disgusted, Trent moved his seat further away. Trying to avoid J.T.’s gore. “Seat open on eight!” the dealer hollered out of instinct. “Give us the fucking money!” a Southern drawl demanded. The dealer went quiet quick. So did the rest of us. The rush of fear spread throughout the game. All of us stared at the three men standing over us. Each of them wore black suits. Their faces disguised by straw hats and green bandanas. The leader waved a long machete around. J.T.’s blood adding decorative crimson to the sharp blade. The other two robbers carried pistols. Without hesitation, they scooped up all the hundred dollar bills. The literal blood money. The Cajun man reached for the wolf. “Lemme get my Loup Garou!” With a harsh shove, the leader pushed him back in his seat. “Sorry, buddy!” In tears, the Cajun looked toward the floor. His voice got lower but his words remained constant. Back to chanting. A hush lingered on table eight. All thanks to J.T. going completely still. Using his machete, the leader motioned his partners toward the clerk. “Go get the fucking money!” They did as they were told. In a panic, the clerk opened the registers. “Please! Don’t shoot me!” she cried The leader snatched the baby wolf. I sensed a wicked smile behind that bandana. “This must be your good luck charm.” He faced the Cajun. Holding up the corpse as if it were a pathetic trophy. “Is this shit how you won all the time?” “Drop your weapons!” we heard someone shout. Footsteps stormed behind us. We turned just in time to see the security guard leading several armed officers inside the poker room. Without hesitation, a cop fired. And not a warning shot either. The bullet blew the leader’s brains out. Blood and gray matter sprayed over us. Courtesy of The IP. “Goddammit!” the dealer shouted. Screams formed our soundtrack. Several players jumped up. “Stay where you are!” the guard commanded. The leader collapsed on to the table. More grue covered the felt. The leader’s dead hands dropped both the machete and amulet. The cops came rushing forward. “Don’t move!” an officer screamed. “Sit the fuck down!” The other players got back in their seats. Together, we formed a gruesome congregation. Each of us covered in blood. J.T.’s corpse seated as if he were ready to play. Table eight a poker game from Hell. Eager to keep up with the real cops, the security guard descended upon us. He cringed at the smell. “Jesus Christ!” Then the wolf caught his eye. “I wouldn’t touch that if I were you!” Trent warned him. “What the Hell’s this...” the guard said. He snatched the dead pup. Dusty flesh and dry blood stuck to his fingertips. Instantly, several shots rang in the new year and the guard’s brutal death. Bullets obliterated his face into oblivion. In the chilly room, the gunfire left us all coated in another layer of crimson. The security guard fell to the floor, motionless. Gaping holes leaked blood from his head. The baby wolf still clasped in his tight grip. David downed his beer. The now-red Corona didn’t bother him at this point... Behind us, I saw the cops apprehend the other two robbers. The lingering fear made me shiver. The gang could’ve shot any one of us… but deep down, I knew why they only killed the guard. And why they immediately surrendered afterward. I looked on at the dead wolf. Its baby blues remained fixated on me. Tempting me to touch. Its mummified body the prettiest corpse in this poker room’s collection. “Shit, I ain’t touching it!” I heard David say. Weary, Trent stood up and pushed his seat back. “Fuck it!” Blood dripping off his beard and jacket, he looked toward the nervous clerk. Pointed down at his ridiculous chip stack. Even at the pieces of flesh stuck to them. “I’m cashing out!” 14
2020 was already getting off to a bad start. Here it was New Year’s Day in Biloxi, Mississippi and I was already down four-hundred for the year. And it was only noon... Of course, the black-eyed peas didn’t help. No good luck charm could cure my current drought at the Imperial Palace’s poker room. This was the last day my buddies and I would be out here. Our final day touring Biloxi’s many casinos. Just like years past, The Vegas Of The South hadn’t been kind to me. But I still had fun. Your wacky horror author Rhonnie enjoyed poker after all. Even when I was constantly being battered by bad beats. There were four of us out here. Me and my Stanwyck, Georgia poker pals. I was the youngest of the bunch. Scrawnier than ever, my combed-over brown hair was still a mess from this wild binge of booze and cards. My green eyes wild with drunken life. The gambling fix just what I needed after a hectic 2019. Obviously, I missed Ashley… But I suspected she was doing just fine partying with Carty and Erika in Columbus, Georgia. The power trio indulging in their own New Year’s blitz of margaritas and dancing. My friends J.T., David, and Trent were all with me. From playing nickel/dime house games to $1/3 at the IP, we brought the rowdiness of South Georgia with us to this fine establishment... much to the chagrin of all the dealers and poker players. A few years older than me, David was a stocky, red-headed Southern boy. The combination of his loud voice and drunk shit talking ensured we’d never keep a low-profile. David always unrestrained unless he was behind bars or in a strait-jacket. J.T. was similar but more stable. At forty, he’d skirted by authority and drama with the type of good luck he inexplicably had at the casinos. Tall and lanky, J.T. was Hispanic in ethnicity but a crazed country boy at heart. And with him and David together, their fighting and flirting hit a manic overdrive. Trent only dealt with them due to experience... J.T. was his ex-brother-in-law after all. Trent was the most reserved out of us. Even drunk, he didn’t cut up much. His bushy beard and piercing eyes certainly gave him clout on the felt. Not to mention he was the only one with a real job. With real money to spare. When David, J.T., and I inevitably went broke, the three of us followed Trent around like roadies desperate for a rock star’s sloppy seconds. New Year’s Day was just a chaotic continuation of our three-day bender. At noon, everyone but Trent was already hammered. The constant “free” beer and vodka our only way of staving off the New Year’s Eve hangovers hunting us down… This early, the IP’s card room was empty save for one $1/3 table. The usual players probably still out recovering from the previous night’s festivities. Party favors and empty bottles littered the other tables. The room’s 60s soft rock soundtrack well overshadowed by the constant chimes of neighboring slots. The four of us had table eight together. Under bright lighting, we enjoyed the game with four other Hold Em stragglers. I only recognized Lily a hot regular I’d seen over in Gretna, Florida’s poker room. Someone from our neck of the woods. Wearing Louis Vuitton sunglasses and flaunting her stylish short brown hair, she was the only female player here... And already, both David and J.T. had tried her. And already she’d insulted them right back. Not to mention took the last of David’s pathetic chip stack. Table eight’s other players included the usual low stakes caricatures. The shitregs. A depressed dad with an equally depressing dad bod. The smartass college kid masquerading as a poker pro. And an older farmer still wearing overalls, the type of surreal sight you somehow take for granted in Biloxi. Our dealer was a bitchy man in his mid-40s. The type of rude personality reserved for the casino’s deader shifts. None of the players were any good. Then again, I couldn’t talk much. My thirty-big-blind buy-in strategy had been continually getting crushed by suckouts. Usually by Trent. Needless to say, he and Lily were the big winners so far… Their colorful chip stacks even contained stray hundred dollar bills. But somehow, J.T.’s drunkass had even more. Obnoxious as ever, the son-of-a-bitch had been running off Fireball cinnamon whiskies since the ball dropped. And here he was with over three grand on the table. A stack of Benjamins clustered amongst his towers. Now the farmer had just thrown in another hundred dollar bill. J.T. snap called. Farmer showed three of a kind. J.T. hesitated for a moment... either he was too drunk to read the board or slow-rolling his opponent. My guess was both. Finally, J.T. slung down the winning hand: ten four of diamonds. A flush on the river. I rolled my eyes in disbelief. Laughing, J.T. collected his latest pot. Another two hundred for his growing stack. “Nice hand, sir!” he taunted the frowning farmer. “You see that shit, Trent! I played that shit like you!” Broke and on his tenth Corona, David now sat behind me. A rail I never asked for… but an entertaining one at least. He leaned in toward me. “Hey, here she comes!” A red-headed waitress complete with an hourglass figure and flawless face walked toward us. Right into David’s carnal sights. Then again, I couldn’t blame him. He waved his beer at her. “Hey, I need another one!” Annoyed, she stopped and jotted down his order. David grabbed my shoulder. “What are you having!” “Miller Lite,” I said to her, my calm voice the opposite of David’s rowdy roar. “Alright, I’ll be right back,” the waitress said. With drunken confidence, David reached toward her. “Hey, sweetie, what’s your name?” He just missed her… The waitress was in a hurry. “None of your business!” she yelled back. With that, she high-tailed it straight for the table games. Then again, neither of us were complaining to watch her leave… Only the beer was definitely gonna take awhile. Especially once she stopped to take an order from a young bodybuilder. A hunk by the slots. Excited, the redhead leaned in closer. A rare smile on her face. Her thirst obvious… David turned to me. “Hey, why’s she talking to him like that!” “Damn, boy, she got you good!” Trent teased. David shrugged him off. “Man, fuck you, Trent!” “Language!” our dealer warned us in a pissed-off growl. Trent collected another pot. “I don’t think she like you anyhow,” he told David. “She just playing hard to get!” David yelled. The alcohol hitting him hard, David leaned in toward the table. “I bet I can get her before the day’s over with! I’ll get her in my room-” Like a brick wall, a fat arm blocked David. A pot-bellied security guard glared over him. “Move back, son!” David threw up his hands. “Alright!” J.T.’s crude laughter echoed through the room. The rest of the table cracked up in a sadistic chorus. Even the dealer. Keeping my cool, I pointed David behind me. “Just sit here, man. Drink the beer.” “Get your brokeass back, David!” J.T. jeered. “Man, whatever.” David moved his chair behind me. Flashed a glare at the guard. “There? You happy?” Behind a cold expression, the guard just stared at us. Completely unamused. I looked over at a corner where the front desk was. Where all the chips and cash were. The clerk just watched us, her dark eyes like lasers. David again the center of attention. A wave of cold air hit us. My FSU hoodie couldn’t keep me from shivering. And regardless of all the booze, I suspected David’s long-sleeved AC/DC shirt wasn’t helping him much either. I looked down at my cards. Ten three offsuit. Yet another fold on my fucking big blind. Then a rotten smell hit me. Well from beyond the grave. The scent more putrid than roadkill. “Is this one three hold em?” I heard a guttural drawl say. The entire table looked toward our latest player. Hopefully, our latest fish. The black man certainly looked the part. Dressed in rumpled jeans and a red jacket with rolled-up sleeves, he was in his fifties. His scruffy beard matched by greasy Jheri curls. Years of wildness captured in his arsenal of tattoos and odd jewelry. The skull-and-bones earrings and gold teeth certainly hinted at what was sure to be an eccentric gambler. The man’s stern gaze locked in on the security guard. “Is it one-three?” he asked in that muddled Cajun accent. With a flourish, he pulled out a bundle of Benjamins. Well over five-hundred dollars. Immediately, the guard went to work getting those chips. Him and the clerk eager to count the dough. The Cajun took a seat right beside J.T. Seat number seven. “Holy shit…” J.T. exclaimed. He flashed David and I a drunken smirk. But soon, that smile was wiped clean. The wild man didn’t know what the fuck he was doing and he may have been stinking up the place with a corpse’s hygiene, but he was damn sure winning. Even Trent and Lily’s stacks were going downhill. Left with only fifty bucks on the table, I just enjoyed the show as David kept the beer flowing. Him and I an audience for this black Cajun man’s rampage. Ashley sent me an obvious drunk text: I love you :) Grinning, I texted her back: The two of us drunk at noon on New Year’s Day. How cute. J.T.’s triumphant yell then caught my attention. “Whoo!” He slid out a huge tower into the pot. The arrogance such an obvious tell… “Come get some!” he shouted at the Cajun. The man deliberated on the river bet. Like a young gunslinger, J.T. leaned toward him. Trying to get eye-to-eye. “Come on, call me!” he yelled, desperate to antagonize the man. The dealer forced J.T. back. “Sir, please don’t lean over the table.” Holding his latest mixed drink, J.T. waved toward his opponent. “I don’t care! I’ll call clock on his ass!” “Aw-in!” the man stated. He pushed his huge stack out. Everyone watched, dumbfounded... but fucking entertained. Even if we didn’t quite understand the man’s dialect... The dealer leaned in toward him. “Uh, sir. Was that an all-in?” “Aw-in!” the Cajun declared. “I said aw-in!” Now put on the spot, J.T. trembled in the cold. His weakness well on display. “Goddammit!” he yelled. His good mood long gone, he threw the cards toward the dealer. The confident drunk now hurtling through depression. “Language, sir,” the dealer reminded him. “I don’t give a fuck!” J.T. replied. Now David was the one laughing his ass off… J.T. motioned toward the Cajun. “How the Hell you keep winning these hands!” With a smile of gold rather than teeth, the man faced J.T. “Dat’s juss how I play, boy.” I couldn’t help but crack up. Trent covered his own chuckle. “Yeah, and you stink like Hell too,” J.T. said. Cackling, the Cajun stacked up his winnings. Lily looked over at J.T. “Maybe that’s part of his strategy.” “Well, I’m about to bust that shit! Fuck his strategy!” J.T. shouted. “And you wanna know why!” He looked down at his latest cards. “Because I’m J.T. Torres! That’s why!” On the warpath, he took out his phone. “I’m about to get in my zone, Rhonnie!” I cringed. Simultaneously amused and embarrassed. Tom Petty’s “Last Dance With Mary Jane” blasted off J.T.’s phone. Over the IP’s soundtrack. Over Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Bad Moon Rising.” J.T. glared at the whole table. “I ain’t playing now! Who wants some of this!” “It’s one three, boy,” Trent quipped. Growing more and more aggravated, the dealer confronted J.T. “Sir, you can’t play music,” he said in an exasperated tone. The security guard approached us. “No phones on the table!” he barked at J.T. J.T. cut off the music. “Alright, that’s fine!” Without hesitation, he waved at his stack. “Fuck it, I’m all-in!” “Sir-” the dealer began. “I caw!” the Cajun cried. With everyone else out, he flipped over his cards. Pocket aces. The fucking bullets. A dramatic intensity dominated the table. Only the ominous beat of “Bad Moon Rising” could be heard. The man’s rotten stench like cigarette smoke in the arena’s atmosphere. This heavyweight match we all anticipated now looking to be a quick knockout. “Oh shit!” Trent joked to J.T. “You done fucked up!” The twisting knife sent J.T. further into his downward spiral. Anger built inside him. He threw up his pocket kings. “Goddammit!” he said. “How much does he have?” “He’s got you,” remarked the dealer in a not-so-subtle jab. The Cajun chuckled. “I got you covered, boy!” And he damn sure did. J.T.’s fifteen-hundred dollar stack was in a world of pain. “Fuck!” J.T. yelled. I then noticed the man jam both his hands inside those hoodie pockets. Burrowing them in deep. “What the fuck!” I heard J.T. say to me. “What the fuck else could I do, Rhonnie! I had fucking kings!” I watched the Cajun’s lips move... but his voice didn’t carry. He was mumbling… All while his eyes stayed glued to the center of the table. To where the cards would fall. An unsettling realization hit me. The guy was praying… Mumbling some sort of chant. “Luckyass bitch!” J.T. yelled. With indifferent efficiency, the dealer laid the board out quick. The Cajun wound up with four aces. J.T. gone from a bad beat to outright slaughtered. “Stick a fork in him!” Trent’s Southern accent joked. “Oh shit…” David chimed in. He nudged me but I was too disturbed to respond. Too drawn into whatever was going on in seat seven’s world. Full of rage, J.T. stood up, spilling some of his drink. “Man, fuck y’all!” The guard took an annoyed step toward us. “Sir!” he yelled. J.T. turned his irate eyes toward the Cajun. The man still had his hands in his pockets. His eyes still on the board. Still in prayer. “He comes in here stinking up the place!” J.T. continued. He stumbled toward his nemesis. “And what the Hell’s he doing now!” Trent glared at J.T. “Man, just leave him alone! Your ass can’t afford to play, you shouldn’t be here nohow!” In his trance, the Cajun stayed in his seat. Still chanting. His hands still hidden deep in those pockets. Moving quick, the guard took off for the slots. His walkie-talkie at the ready. Eager for back-up. David faced J.T. “Goddamn, man, chill!” “Fucking idiot,” I heard Lily grumble. The alcohol giving him fake toughness, J.T. pushed the man back. “How in the Hell did you win that!” Startled, the Cajun stumbled up. His eyes in a panic. A disturbing amulet stuck in his sweaty hand. The table gasped and screamed. Us drunks louder and more terrified than the rest. The horrifying smell somehow got more sickening. “What the fuck!” J.T. yelled at his rival. Trembling, the man looked at each of us. Too scared to talk. Still clinging to a baby wolf. A real, dead baby wolf. Like a furry fetus, its decomposing corpse resembled a crude outline of life. A tiny, crumbling cadaver. The pup’s hollow skin in a post-mortem preservation. Its blue eyes forever open. And the Cajun had been holding this wolf for a very long time. A good luck charm in which the superstition outweighed the pup’s gruesome touch and nauseating stench. A necklace of a noose was wrapped around its small neck. Rather than a medallion, the wolf wore a shiny dime. One with a hole drilled in the middle of it... “It’s my Gris-Gris!” the man yelled in a guttural growl. Possessive, he pulled the wolf in closer. A literal baby in his arms. “You ain’t taking my Gris-Gris!” Through the tension, no one said a word. No one except J.T.. “Hey, gimme that shit!” J.T. yelled. Pissed, he snatched the corpse out of the Cajun’s desperate grip. “No!” the man cried. Tears formed in his eyes. “Gimme my Gris-Gris! My Loup Garou!” “So that’s how your ass has been winning!” J.T. continued. He held the baby wolf out toward the man. “That’s how you been getting all them Goddamn cards!” With savage glee, he flicked the dime. “This is your nastyass good luck charm!” The Cajun held his pitiful hands out toward J.T. Literally begging him… much to J.T.’s twisted delight. “I need him back!” he cried. “Gimme my Gris-Gris!” “Give him the damn thing!” Trent shouted at J.T. “Naw, Hell no!” J.T. replied. He squeezed on to the pup, making the wolf’s eyes even bigger. Further taunting the Cajun. “I need me some luck after this bitch took my chips!” Weeping, the man motioned toward the corpse. “It’s no good, boy! Dat wolf’s only good luck for me! He’s bad luck for you!” J.T. cackled. “Bullshit, bitch!” “Whoever touch it get bad luck!” Dismissive, J.T. looked toward the clerk. “Hey, get me three-hundred in chips! I’m reloading!” A flash of silver caught everyone’s eye. The machete whirled right through J.T.’s neck. A red river spread across his slit throat. For once, J.T. went silent. He dropped the wolf and grasped at the fatal wound. A fountain of blood poured out his mouth. The dead pup hit the felt. Its soft thud caused chips to collapse. Bits of its old flesh fragmented upon impact. The decomposing smell somehow hit new highs... “My Gris-Gris!” the Cajun screamed J.T. landed in his chair. His body convulsing in a painful rhythm. His death slow and steady. Blood now spewed all across table eight. David and I exchanged frightened looks. Disgusted, Trent moved his seat further away. Trying to avoid J.T.’s gore. “Seat open on eight!” the dealer hollered out of instinct. “Give us the fucking money!” a Southern drawl demanded. The dealer went quiet quick. So did the rest of us. The rush of fear spread throughout the game. All of us stared at the three men standing over us. Each of them wore black suits. Their faces disguised by straw hats and green bandanas. The leader waved a long machete around. J.T.’s blood adding decorative crimson to the sharp blade. The other two robbers carried pistols. Without hesitation, they scooped up all the hundred dollar bills. The literal blood money. The Cajun man reached for the wolf. “Lemme get my Loup Garou!” With a harsh shove, the leader pushed him back in his seat. “Sorry, buddy!” In tears, the Cajun looked toward the floor. His voice got lower but his words remained constant. Back to chanting. A hush lingered on table eight. All thanks to J.T. going completely still. Using his machete, the leader motioned his partners toward the clerk. “Go get the fucking money!” They did as they were told. In a panic, the clerk opened the registers. “Please! Don’t shoot me!” she cried The leader snatched the baby wolf. I sensed a wicked smile behind that bandana. “This must be your good luck charm.” He faced the Cajun. Holding up the corpse as if it were a pathetic trophy. “Is this shit how you won all the time?” “Drop your weapons!” we heard someone shout. Footsteps stormed behind us. We turned just in time to see the security guard leading several armed officers inside the poker room. Without hesitation, a cop fired. And not a warning shot either. The bullet blew the leader’s brains out. Blood and gray matter sprayed over us. Courtesy of The IP. “Goddammit!” the dealer shouted. Screams formed our soundtrack. Several players jumped up. “Stay where you are!” the guard commanded. The leader collapsed on to the table. More grue covered the felt. The leader’s dead hands dropped both the machete and amulet. The cops came rushing forward. “Don’t move!” an officer screamed. “Sit the fuck down!” The other players got back in their seats. Together, we formed a gruesome congregation. Each of us covered in blood. J.T.’s corpse seated as if he were ready to play. Table eight a poker game from Hell. Eager to keep up with the real cops, the security guard descended upon us. He cringed at the smell. “Jesus Christ!” Then the wolf caught his eye. “I wouldn’t touch that if I were you!” Trent warned him. “What the Hell’s this...” the guard said. He snatched the dead pup. Dusty flesh and dry blood stuck to his fingertips. Instantly, several shots rang in the new year and the guard’s brutal death. Bullets obliterated his face into oblivion. In the chilly room, the gunfire left us all coated in another layer of crimson. The security guard fell to the floor, motionless. Gaping holes leaked blood from his head. The baby wolf still clasped in his tight grip. David downed his beer. The now-red Corona didn’t bother him at this point... Behind us, I saw the cops apprehend the other two robbers. The lingering fear made me shiver. The gang could’ve shot any one of us… but deep down, I knew why they only killed the guard. And why they immediately surrendered afterward. I looked on at the dead wolf. Its baby blues remained fixated on me. Tempting me to touch. Its mummified body the prettiest corpse in this poker room’s collection. “Shit, I ain’t touching it!” I heard David say. Weary, Trent stood up and pushed his seat back. “Fuck it!” Blood dripping off his beard and jacket, he looked toward the nervous clerk. Pointed down at his ridiculous chip stack. Even at the pieces of flesh stuck to them. “I’m cashing out!” 14
2020 was already getting off to a bad start. Here it was New Year’s Day in Biloxi, Mississippi and I was already down four-hundred for the year. And it was only noon... Of course, the black-eyed peas didn’t help. No good luck charm could cure my current drought at the Imperial Palace’s poker room. This was the last day my buddies and I would be out here. Our final day touring Biloxi’s many casinos. Just like years past, The Vegas Of The South hadn’t been kind to me. But I still had fun. Your wacky horror author Rhonnie enjoyed poker after all. Even when I was constantly being battered by bad beats. There were four of us out here. Me and my Stanwyck, Georgia poker pals. I was the youngest of the bunch. Scrawnier than ever, my combed-over brown hair was still a mess from this wild binge of booze and cards. My green eyes wild with drunken life. The gambling fix just what I needed after a hectic 2019. Obviously, I missed Ashley… But I suspected she was doing just fine partying with Carty and Erika in Columbus, Georgia. The power trio indulging in their own New Year’s blitz of margaritas and dancing. My friends J.T., David, and Trent were all with me. From playing nickel/dime house games to $1/3 at the IP, we brought the rowdiness of South Georgia with us to this fine establishment... much to the chagrin of all the dealers and poker players. A few years older than me, David was a stocky, red-headed Southern boy. The combination of his loud voice and drunk shit talking ensured we’d never keep a low-profile. David always unrestrained unless he was behind bars or in a strait-jacket. J.T. was similar but more stable. At forty, he’d skirted by authority and drama with the type of good luck he inexplicably had at the casinos. Tall and lanky, J.T. was Hispanic in ethnicity but a crazed country boy at heart. And with him and David together, their fighting and flirting hit a manic overdrive. Trent only dealt with them due to experience... J.T. was his ex-brother-in-law after all. Trent was the most reserved out of us. Even drunk, he didn’t cut up much. His bushy beard and piercing eyes certainly gave him clout on the felt. Not to mention he was the only one with a real job. With real money to spare. When David, J.T., and I inevitably went broke, the three of us followed Trent around like roadies desperate for a rock star’s sloppy seconds. New Year’s Day was just a chaotic continuation of our three-day bender. At noon, everyone but Trent was already hammered. The constant “free” beer and vodka our only way of staving off the New Year’s Eve hangovers hunting us down… This early, the IP’s card room was empty save for one $1/3 table. The usual players probably still out recovering from the previous night’s festivities. Party favors and empty bottles littered the other tables. The room’s 60s soft rock soundtrack well overshadowed by the constant chimes of neighboring slots. The four of us had table eight together. Under bright lighting, we enjoyed the game with four other Hold Em stragglers. I only recognized Lily a hot regular I’d seen over in Gretna, Florida’s poker room. Someone from our neck of the woods. Wearing Louis Vuitton sunglasses and flaunting her stylish short brown hair, she was the only female player here... And already, both David and J.T. had tried her. And already she’d insulted them right back. Not to mention took the last of David’s pathetic chip stack. Table eight’s other players included the usual low stakes caricatures. The shitregs. A depressed dad with an equally depressing dad bod. The smartass college kid masquerading as a poker pro. And an older farmer still wearing overalls, the type of surreal sight you somehow take for granted in Biloxi. Our dealer was a bitchy man in his mid-40s. The type of rude personality reserved for the casino’s deader shifts. None of the players were any good. Then again, I couldn’t talk much. My thirty-big-blind buy-in strategy had been continually getting crushed by suckouts. Usually by Trent. Needless to say, he and Lily were the big winners so far… Their colorful chip stacks even contained stray hundred dollar bills. But somehow, J.T.’s drunkass had even more. Obnoxious as ever, the son-of-a-bitch had been running off Fireball cinnamon whiskies since the ball dropped. And here he was with over three grand on the table. A stack of Benjamins clustered amongst his towers. Now the farmer had just thrown in another hundred dollar bill. J.T. snap called. Farmer showed three of a kind. J.T. hesitated for a moment... either he was too drunk to read the board or slow-rolling his opponent. My guess was both. Finally, J.T. slung down the winning hand: ten four of diamonds. A flush on the river. I rolled my eyes in disbelief. Laughing, J.T. collected his latest pot. Another two hundred for his growing stack. “Nice hand, sir!” he taunted the frowning farmer. “You see that shit, Trent! I played that shit like you!” Broke and on his tenth Corona, David now sat behind me. A rail I never asked for… but an entertaining one at least. He leaned in toward me. “Hey, here she comes!” A red-headed waitress complete with an hourglass figure and flawless face walked toward us. Right into David’s carnal sights. Then again, I couldn’t blame him. He waved his beer at her. “Hey, I need another one!” Annoyed, she stopped and jotted down his order. David grabbed my shoulder. “What are you having!” “Miller Lite,” I said to her, my calm voice the opposite of David’s rowdy roar. “Alright, I’ll be right back,” the waitress said. With drunken confidence, David reached toward her. “Hey, sweetie, what’s your name?” He just missed her… The waitress was in a hurry. “None of your business!” she yelled back. With that, she high-tailed it straight for the table games. Then again, neither of us were complaining to watch her leave… Only the beer was definitely gonna take awhile. Especially once she stopped to take an order from a young bodybuilder. A hunk by the slots. Excited, the redhead leaned in closer. A rare smile on her face. Her thirst obvious… David turned to me. “Hey, why’s she talking to him like that!” “Damn, boy, she got you good!” Trent teased. David shrugged him off. “Man, fuck you, Trent!” “Language!” our dealer warned us in a pissed-off growl. Trent collected another pot. “I don’t think she like you anyhow,” he told David. “She just playing hard to get!” David yelled. The alcohol hitting him hard, David leaned in toward the table. “I bet I can get her before the day’s over with! I’ll get her in my room-” Like a brick wall, a fat arm blocked David. A pot-bellied security guard glared over him. “Move back, son!” David threw up his hands. “Alright!” J.T.’s crude laughter echoed through the room. The rest of the table cracked up in a sadistic chorus. Even the dealer. Keeping my cool, I pointed David behind me. “Just sit here, man. Drink the beer.” “Get your brokeass back, David!” J.T. jeered. “Man, whatever.” David moved his chair behind me. Flashed a glare at the guard. “There? You happy?” Behind a cold expression, the guard just stared at us. Completely unamused. I looked over at a corner where the front desk was. Where all the chips and cash were. The clerk just watched us, her dark eyes like lasers. David again the center of attention. A wave of cold air hit us. My FSU hoodie couldn’t keep me from shivering. And regardless of all the booze, I suspected David’s long-sleeved AC/DC shirt wasn’t helping him much either. I looked down at my cards. Ten three offsuit. Yet another fold on my fucking big blind. Then a rotten smell hit me. Well from beyond the grave. The scent more putrid than roadkill. “Is this one three hold em?” I heard a guttural drawl say. The entire table looked toward our latest player. Hopefully, our latest fish. The black man certainly looked the part. Dressed in rumpled jeans and a red jacket with rolled-up sleeves, he was in his fifties. His scruffy beard matched by greasy Jheri curls. Years of wildness captured in his arsenal of tattoos and odd jewelry. The skull-and-bones earrings and gold teeth certainly hinted at what was sure to be an eccentric gambler. The man’s stern gaze locked in on the security guard. “Is it one-three?” he asked in that muddled Cajun accent. With a flourish, he pulled out a bundle of Benjamins. Well over five-hundred dollars. Immediately, the guard went to work getting those chips. Him and the clerk eager to count the dough. The Cajun took a seat right beside J.T. Seat number seven. “Holy shit…” J.T. exclaimed. He flashed David and I a drunken smirk. But soon, that smile was wiped clean. The wild man didn’t know what the fuck he was doing and he may have been stinking up the place with a corpse’s hygiene, but he was damn sure winning. Even Trent and Lily’s stacks were going downhill. Left with only fifty bucks on the table, I just enjoyed the show as David kept the beer flowing. Him and I an audience for this black Cajun man’s rampage. Ashley sent me an obvious drunk text: I love you :) Grinning, I texted her back: The two of us drunk at noon on New Year’s Day. How cute. J.T.’s triumphant yell then caught my attention. “Whoo!” He slid out a huge tower into the pot. The arrogance such an obvious tell… “Come get some!” he shouted at the Cajun. The man deliberated on the river bet. Like a young gunslinger, J.T. leaned toward him. Trying to get eye-to-eye. “Come on, call me!” he yelled, desperate to antagonize the man. The dealer forced J.T. back. “Sir, please don’t lean over the table.” Holding his latest mixed drink, J.T. waved toward his opponent. “I don’t care! I’ll call clock on his ass!” “Aw-in!” the man stated. He pushed his huge stack out. Everyone watched, dumbfounded... but fucking entertained. Even if we didn’t quite understand the man’s dialect... The dealer leaned in toward him. “Uh, sir. Was that an all-in?” “Aw-in!” the Cajun declared. “I said aw-in!” Now put on the spot, J.T. trembled in the cold. His weakness well on display. “Goddammit!” he yelled. His good mood long gone, he threw the cards toward the dealer. The confident drunk now hurtling through depression. “Language, sir,” the dealer reminded him. “I don’t give a fuck!” J.T. replied. Now David was the one laughing his ass off… J.T. motioned toward the Cajun. “How the Hell you keep winning these hands!” With a smile of gold rather than teeth, the man faced J.T. “Dat’s juss how I play, boy.” I couldn’t help but crack up. Trent covered his own chuckle. “Yeah, and you stink like Hell too,” J.T. said. Cackling, the Cajun stacked up his winnings. Lily looked over at J.T. “Maybe that’s part of his strategy.” “Well, I’m about to bust that shit! Fuck his strategy!” J.T. shouted. “And you wanna know why!” He looked down at his latest cards. “Because I’m J.T. Torres! That’s why!” On the warpath, he took out his phone. “I’m about to get in my zone, Rhonnie!” I cringed. Simultaneously amused and embarrassed. Tom Petty’s “Last Dance With Mary Jane” blasted off J.T.’s phone. Over the IP’s soundtrack. Over Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Bad Moon Rising.” J.T. glared at the whole table. “I ain’t playing now! Who wants some of this!” “It’s one three, boy,” Trent quipped. Growing more and more aggravated, the dealer confronted J.T. “Sir, you can’t play music,” he said in an exasperated tone. The security guard approached us. “No phones on the table!” he barked at J.T. J.T. cut off the music. “Alright, that’s fine!” Without hesitation, he waved at his stack. “Fuck it, I’m all-in!” “Sir-” the dealer began. “I caw!” the Cajun cried. With everyone else out, he flipped over his cards. Pocket aces. The fucking bullets. A dramatic intensity dominated the table. Only the ominous beat of “Bad Moon Rising” could be heard. The man’s rotten stench like cigarette smoke in the arena’s atmosphere. This heavyweight match we all anticipated now looking to be a quick knockout. “Oh shit!” Trent joked to J.T. “You done fucked up!” The twisting knife sent J.T. further into his downward spiral. Anger built inside him. He threw up his pocket kings. “Goddammit!” he said. “How much does he have?” “He’s got you,” remarked the dealer in a not-so-subtle jab. The Cajun chuckled. “I got you covered, boy!” And he damn sure did. J.T.’s fifteen-hundred dollar stack was in a world of pain. “Fuck!” J.T. yelled. I then noticed the man jam both his hands inside those hoodie pockets. Burrowing them in deep. “What the fuck!” I heard J.T. say to me. “What the fuck else could I do, Rhonnie! I had fucking kings!” I watched the Cajun’s lips move... but his voice didn’t carry. He was mumbling… All while his eyes stayed glued to the center of the table. To where the cards would fall. An unsettling realization hit me. The guy was praying… Mumbling some sort of chant. “Luckyass bitch!” J.T. yelled. With indifferent efficiency, the dealer laid the board out quick. The Cajun wound up with four aces. J.T. gone from a bad beat to outright slaughtered. “Stick a fork in him!” Trent’s Southern accent joked. “Oh shit…” David chimed in. He nudged me but I was too disturbed to respond. Too drawn into whatever was going on in seat seven’s world. Full of rage, J.T. stood up, spilling some of his drink. “Man, fuck y’all!” The guard took an annoyed step toward us. “Sir!” he yelled. J.T. turned his irate eyes toward the Cajun. The man still had his hands in his pockets. His eyes still on the board. Still in prayer. “He comes in here stinking up the place!” J.T. continued. He stumbled toward his nemesis. “And what the Hell’s he doing now!” Trent glared at J.T. “Man, just leave him alone! Your ass can’t afford to play, you shouldn’t be here nohow!” In his trance, the Cajun stayed in his seat. Still chanting. His hands still hidden deep in those pockets. Moving quick, the guard took off for the slots. His walkie-talkie at the ready. Eager for back-up. David faced J.T. “Goddamn, man, chill!” “Fucking idiot,” I heard Lily grumble. The alcohol giving him fake toughness, J.T. pushed the man back. “How in the Hell did you win that!” Startled, the Cajun stumbled up. His eyes in a panic. A disturbing amulet stuck in his sweaty hand. The table gasped and screamed. Us drunks louder and more terrified than the rest. The horrifying smell somehow got more sickening. “What the fuck!” J.T. yelled at his rival. Trembling, the man looked at each of us. Too scared to talk. Still clinging to a baby wolf. A real, dead baby wolf. Like a furry fetus, its decomposing corpse resembled a crude outline of life. A tiny, crumbling cadaver. The pup’s hollow skin in a post-mortem preservation. Its blue eyes forever open. And the Cajun had been holding this wolf for a very long time. A good luck charm in which the superstition outweighed the pup’s gruesome touch and nauseating stench. A necklace of a noose was wrapped around its small neck. Rather than a medallion, the wolf wore a shiny dime. One with a hole drilled in the middle of it... “It’s my Gris-Gris!” the man yelled in a guttural growl. Possessive, he pulled the wolf in closer. A literal baby in his arms. “You ain’t taking my Gris-Gris!” Through the tension, no one said a word. No one except J.T.. “Hey, gimme that shit!” J.T. yelled. Pissed, he snatched the corpse out of the Cajun’s desperate grip. “No!” the man cried. Tears formed in his eyes. “Gimme my Gris-Gris! My Loup Garou!” “So that’s how your ass has been winning!” J.T. continued. He held the baby wolf out toward the man. “That’s how you been getting all them Goddamn cards!” With savage glee, he flicked the dime. “This is your nastyass good luck charm!” The Cajun held his pitiful hands out toward J.T. Literally begging him… much to J.T.’s twisted delight. “I need him back!” he cried. “Gimme my Gris-Gris!” “Give him the damn thing!” Trent shouted at J.T. “Naw, Hell no!” J.T. replied. He squeezed on to the pup, making the wolf’s eyes even bigger. Further taunting the Cajun. “I need me some luck after this bitch took my chips!” Weeping, the man motioned toward the corpse. “It’s no good, boy! Dat wolf’s only good luck for me! He’s bad luck for you!” J.T. cackled. “Bullshit, bitch!” “Whoever touch it get bad luck!” Dismissive, J.T. looked toward the clerk. “Hey, get me three-hundred in chips! I’m reloading!” A flash of silver caught everyone’s eye. The machete whirled right through J.T.’s neck. A red river spread across his slit throat. For once, J.T. went silent. He dropped the wolf and grasped at the fatal wound. A fountain of blood poured out his mouth. The dead pup hit the felt. Its soft thud caused chips to collapse. Bits of its old flesh fragmented upon impact. The decomposing smell somehow hit new highs... “My Gris-Gris!” the Cajun screamed J.T. landed in his chair. His body convulsing in a painful rhythm. His death slow and steady. Blood now spewed all across table eight. David and I exchanged frightened looks. Disgusted, Trent moved his seat further away. Trying to avoid J.T.’s gore. “Seat open on eight!” the dealer hollered out of instinct. “Give us the fucking money!” a Southern drawl demanded. The dealer went quiet quick. So did the rest of us. The rush of fear spread throughout the game. All of us stared at the three men standing over us. Each of them wore black suits. Their faces disguised by straw hats and green bandanas. The leader waved a long machete around. J.T.’s blood adding decorative crimson to the sharp blade. The other two robbers carried pistols. Without hesitation, they scooped up all the hundred dollar bills. The literal blood money. The Cajun man reached for the wolf. “Lemme get my Loup Garou!” With a harsh shove, the leader pushed him back in his seat. “Sorry, buddy!” In tears, the Cajun looked toward the floor. His voice got lower but his words remained constant. Back to chanting. A hush lingered on table eight. All thanks to J.T. going completely still. Using his machete, the leader motioned his partners toward the clerk. “Go get the fucking money!” They did as they were told. In a panic, the clerk opened the registers. “Please! Don’t shoot me!” she cried The leader snatched the baby wolf. I sensed a wicked smile behind that bandana. “This must be your good luck charm.” He faced the Cajun. Holding up the corpse as if it were a pathetic trophy. “Is this shit how you won all the time?” “Drop your weapons!” we heard someone shout. Footsteps stormed behind us. We turned just in time to see the security guard leading several armed officers inside the poker room. Without hesitation, a cop fired. And not a warning shot either. The bullet blew the leader’s brains out. Blood and gray matter sprayed over us. Courtesy of The IP. “Goddammit!” the dealer shouted. Screams formed our soundtrack. Several players jumped up. “Stay where you are!” the guard commanded. The leader collapsed on to the table. More grue covered the felt. The leader’s dead hands dropped both the machete and amulet. The cops came rushing forward. “Don’t move!” an officer screamed. “Sit the fuck down!” The other players got back in their seats. Together, we formed a gruesome congregation. Each of us covered in blood. J.T.’s corpse seated as if he were ready to play. Table eight a poker game from Hell. Eager to keep up with the real cops, the security guard descended upon us. He cringed at the smell. “Jesus Christ!” Then the wolf caught his eye. “I wouldn’t touch that if I were you!” Trent warned him. “What the Hell’s this...” the guard said. He snatched the dead pup. Dusty flesh and dry blood stuck to his fingertips. Instantly, several shots rang in the new year and the guard’s brutal death. Bullets obliterated his face into oblivion. In the chilly room, the gunfire left us all coated in another layer of crimson. The security guard fell to the floor, motionless. Gaping holes leaked blood from his head. The baby wolf still clasped in his tight grip. David downed his beer. The now-red Corona didn’t bother him at this point... Behind us, I saw the cops apprehend the other two robbers. The lingering fear made me shiver. The gang could’ve shot any one of us… but deep down, I knew why they only killed the guard. And why they immediately surrendered afterward. I looked on at the dead wolf. Its baby blues remained fixated on me. Tempting me to touch. Its mummified body the prettiest corpse in this poker room’s collection. “Shit, I ain’t touching it!” I heard David say. Weary, Trent stood up and pushed his seat back. “Fuck it!” Blood dripping off his beard and jacket, he looked toward the nervous clerk. Pointed down at his ridiculous chip stack. Even at the pieces of flesh stuck to them. “I’m cashing out!” 14
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