The Fort Belvoir Golf Course Struggle (Part 2)


In May of last year, I wrote an article entitled, “Fort Belvoir is Gobbling Up Golf Courses.”  This dealt with the Army’s decision to site the Army Museum (NMUSA) on the front nine of the Gunston Golf Course.

The Army published a draft Environmental Assessment (EA) back in October 2008.  I don’t want to get too technical, but the Army is required to assess the environmental impact before they start big projects like the museum.  The Environmental Assessment covers more than just soil, plants and animals.  The Army must also look at the socioeconomic impact and how it will impact on the morale and welfare of the troops and dependents.  Their conclusion that 27 holes rather than 36 holes for the golfing community at Fort Belvoir would be plenty was void of evaluation and reasoning.  And, guess what?  After we (Concerned MWR Patrons) submitted our comments, the Army withdrew their draft EA and went back to the drawing board.

It has been two years since the original draft EA.  Last month the Army tried again in a new and improved draft EA.  This time it includes reconfiguring the golf courses to keep 36 holes.  It also states that the Army Historical Foundation (AHF) (the group building the museum) will pay to reconfigure the golf courses.  Now that’s progress.

We are moving in the right direction, but we aren’t there yet.  Unfortunately, the draft EA is internally inconsistent.  In one place it stated the golf courses will be reconfigured first (“The Army anticipates that reconfiguration of the North Post Golf Course golf holes would start in advance of the museum construction.”).  In another place, it states the new holes will come last (“the Army would construct new holes and redesign the North Post Golf Corse to return to 36 holes in a timely manner following the construction of the NMUSA.”).  What’s going on?  Too many cooks in the kitchen?

If none of this is making any sense, I would recommend that you stop reading.  It is just going to get worse.

The requirement to reconfigure the golf courses is called a “mitigating measure.”  If the Army can mitigate the problems created by museum construction, such as tearing up the golf courses, then they can preclude any significant impact on the environment and will not have to prepare on Environmental Impact Statement (EIS).  Preparing an EIS is a pain and the Army doesn’t want to go there.

Federal environmental regulations prohibit doing mitigating measures after the fact (32 CFR Part 651.15 (c)).  So the language “in a timely manner following the construction of the NMUSA” is a joke.  Mitigation after the fact is no mitigation at all.  The Army ought to know this.  If we can read the Federal regulations, so can they.

My biggest concern is that the Army starts construction, tears up the Gunston front nine and then, because of lack of funds, the project just drags on.  This is not idle speculation.  Hopefully Congress won’t appropriate any MCA funds until the AHF has the money to finish the job.

The regulations also require the Army to keep “interested parties” informed as to what is going on.  On this matter, they have a long list of interested parties.  Guess who is not on the list?  That’s right, the Concerned MWR Patrons.  We have asked to be put on the list.  We clearly fall under the definition of an interested party.  They just won’t do it.  I know we have been a thorn in their side, but it is a self-inflicted wound.  In the words of my wife, they should “get over it.”  If they can’t figure out that we are an interested party, then I can certainly understand why they can’t seem to get anything else right.  I just hope I am not writing about the litigation of this matter two years from now in Part 3.

Newsflash – The Concerned MWR Patrons have submitted their comments to the Army and you can find them at www.concernedmwrpatrons.org.

Brett Farve to Play this Weekend!


In a surprising change of events, it appears that Brett Farve will play this Sunday against the New England Patriots.  Earlier it had been announced that Brett had fractured his left ankle in the game against Green Bay.  If Brett did not start, his 291-game starting streak would come to an end.

It was determined by the NFL Commissioner, Roger Goodell, that a halt to the streak would not be in the best interest of the National Football League.  Consequently, Goodell is implementing the “walker” rule for Farve.  This means that he will be able to have the assistance of a walker while he is on the field.  Goodell stated, “Many elderly people use walkers and they are generally accepted in our society.”  Goodell explained that Farve using a walker also has its disadvantages.  First, Farve will not be able to take snaps under the center.  And, the center will have to snap the ball higher so that it travels over the walker.

Viking coach, Brad Childress, recognizes that a walker might get busted.  “It’s a violent game.”  So he has a number of backup walkers ready to go just in case.  Goodell added that it will be a penalty for any defensive player to specifically target the walker.  That will constitute an unsportsmanlike conduct penalty and cost the defense 15 yards and an automatic first down.

Farve says he is good with the new rules.  It has been rumored that he has already emailed a picture of his walker to Jenn Sterger.  Farve said that he had texted her, but that he had not sent a picture. Sterger has an attorney and will not comment.

Farve thanked Commissioner Goodell for the new rule.  Farve said it was important that he keep playing because an idle mind is the Devil’s workshop.

Golf Digest’s Mystification and Bewilderment


In this October’s issue of Golf Digest, they have 30 pages addressing “Why you can’t putt.”  It was hyped as “the ultimate guide to make you great on the greens.”  I knew it was nonsense, but it got my attention.

I don’t know about golf magazines.  Sure, I subscribe, but do they help my game?  I don’t think it helps me to learn what clubs some pro has in his bag.  I am certain that if all his clubs are TaylorMade, then they are paying him to play with their clubs.  I don’t object to the system.  In fact, I would play with Walmart clubs if they would pay me.

The 30 pages on putting turned out to be a series of articles.  One was an extensive study of the brain.  It included colored pictures of the brains of players putting.  Players with their brains colored red were not doing as well as players with brains colored blue.  Red indicated the player was thinking of missing the putt or concentrating too much on mechanics.  Blue indicated focus on the target or “feel.”  I’ve decided my new mantra on the putting green will be, “think blue, think blue.”

One helpful hint was, if you are standing on your tip toes, your putter may be too long.  Another is, if you are leaving your putts short, you may not be hitting them on the center of the club, which is referred to as the “sweet spot” (or you may not be hitting the ball hard enough).  Their answer is to get a larger putter that has a weighted outside frame.  My answer is to hit the ball on the sweet spot.  I can see the need for more forgiving irons when taking a full swing, but for putting?  You seldom take the putter back 12 inches.

I’m not too swift, so some of this stuff just went over my head.  On reading greens (something I would like to do better), I’m supposed to find the “zero line.”  I think that is something like the green’s Continental Divide.  On one side of the line, everything flows to the Atlantic, and on the other side, the Pacific.  I figured out that if you are on the Pacific side, the ball will break to the left.  Atlantic side – right.  I wish I had known this sooner.  I think this new found knowledge, coupled with a blue brain, may take some of the challenge out of the game.

There’s an article  by Mike Shannon, entitled “How to roll every putt on line.”  No, it’s not the Mike Shannon I knew at Mizzou back in 1958.  He went on to play third base for the St. Louis Cardinals and now broadcasts their games.  The golf-instructing Mike says that 35% of golfers see a straight line when they putt and 65% see a curved line.  I guess my problem is that I don’t know which group I am in.  I think I will go with the curved lines.  That way I have a 65% chance of being right.  OK, are you ready for my system?  I look at the hole and decide if I putt the ball directly at the hole how many inches will I miss on the low side.  Then, I putt that number of inches above the hole.  If I miss, I blame it on the speed of the green.

One of the really helpful bits of information was that if you really want to be a great putter, you need to start before you are ten years old.  And, you need to seriously putt for at least two hours every day.  There goes the piano lessons.  So what comes next?  What do I have to do to be a better than average putter?

There was an article that stated that men were better putters than women.  They threw in a lot of statistics so they wouldn’t sound sexist.  It didn’t work.  But they do have the valid point that men seem to have more competition and are playing for more money.  Then along comes Dr. Satoshi Kanazawa, an evolutionary psychologist.  He states, and I quote, “Throughout evolutionary history, women have been attracted to winners of competitions.  A man believes that if he wins, he’s going to get laid.”  So this is the reason men play better than women?  Doctor K., how you think and talk.  I am wondering why there is a need for an evolutionary psychologist at the London School of Economics.  I’ll bet Dr K. really felt smug when Tiger was exposed.  “See, see!”

The bottom line is that the articles have made me a better putter.  Not because of anything written, but because I became curious about the other Mike Shannon.  It turns out Mike is quite a putting instructor and has a number of putting videos on golfersmd.com.  His instruction is great and the price is right.  The irony is that if his name had been anything other than Mike Shannon, I wouldn’t have looked him up.  I certainly didn’t look up weird Doctor Kanazawa.

A Quirky Pen Buying Habit


If you live to be seventy and you don’t have any quirks, you might want to check your pulse.  You may be dead.  I’m sitting here in my green visor thinking about another quirk I have.  I like to buy pens.  No, not expensive pens.  If you are going to be quirky, make sure your quirks are reasonably inexpensive.

Consequently, I have lots of pens.  I have boxes of pens.  Many that I have purchased worked well at the store, but not so good at home.  After about a week, they end up in a box.  You can’t throw away a one-week old pen.  After about a year, I go through the box and pitch them.

My quest is to find the perfect writing instrument.  I went through fountain pens, ball points, porous points and finally locked on to roller balls.  At this moment, I am wild about gel roller balls.  The Cross pen with a gel roller ball refill is superb.  But, the pen costs $30 to $50 and has the ability to hide itself.

I used to have one Cross pen with a fine porous point tip.  But it was always disappearing.  Many times it would be hiding in the couch.  Searching the car for a lost pen is great sport.  Even if you don’t find the pen, you may find coins, combs or a fingernail file.  It’s better than a scavenger hunt.  And, many times I would find a number of pens.  “Welcome back.  You go in the box.”

I probably buy two to three pens a month.  Always on the quest.  Presently, I’m partial to Sanford Uniball pens.  And, Sanford seems to know it.  Each time I go into an Office Depot, Staples or PX,  Sanford has something new for me (or, they have repackaged something old).  “Hi, I’m Jack and I’m a compulsive pen buyer.”  “Hi Jack.”

Some pens write better on certain paper than others.  Sometimes a fine point is best.  But, most of the time bold is better.  The disadvantage with bold is when you put it in your pants pocket uncapped.  This happens to me frequently.  This has led to another quest – seeking the perfect stain remover.  My wife encourages me to wear dark trousers.  Retractable pens are not the answer.  You don’t have to cap them, but you do have to retract them.

What happens when you buy a pen you really thought your were going to like, but you don’t?  And, it came in a package of eight.  Now you have seven new pens you can’t even put in a box.  I try to give them away or leave them in places where other people will find them.  One lady stopped me to advise that I had forgotten my pen.  I thanked her, but I wanted to tell her to mind her own business.

I spend a disproportionate amount of time just wondering where certain pens are.  I have particular places on each level of the house where I place them, but they find other places to hide.  When I was working in DC, I could go through all of my suits (pants pockets, coat pockets) searching.  That was exciting.  But now that I am retired, I seldom where a suit.  My most recent purchase (with very high hopes) has vanished.  I’ll be back, I’m going to look in the car.  Well, I’m back.  I didn’t find that pen, but I found another.  Unfortunately, it’s one of the eight I have been trying to get rid of.

You may think I am wasteful buying pens I don’t use.  But I feel like I am helping the economy.  And, it gets me out of the house.

Tauck Tours – Yellowstone and Grand Tetons SLS # 26


We just completed another vacation tour with Tauck Tours.  It’s a first class operation.  As I previously have done after our trip to Ireland and the California Gold Coast, I prepared a poem of the trip.  The poem deals with some aspects of the trip that may be only funny to those who shared the trip.  Like the float trip down the Snake River.  Beautiful shots of the Tetons, but very little wild life.

We met in Rapid City, for fun not for a job,
To see the National Parks, with our leader, Cowboy Rob.

Crazy Horse and Mount Rushmore, we saw in changing weather,
Ole’ Horzak and Gutzon had their stuff together.

At the Ranch at Ucross, I think I got took,
Every time I turned around, I was buying another book !
But, there were horses, to show our abilities,
And best of all, – – – Indoor facilities.

The Big Horn Mountains took us to Cody, and Buffalo Bill’s presentation,
Western art and Indian culture, things to be proud of our nation.

Then on to Yellowstone and things not well understood,
Do you really believe, as we were told, that forest fires are good?
We saw prong horn antelope, elk and moose,
In the National Parks, they all run loose.
We even heard what sounded like a toad,
And saw a buffalo walking down the road.

Old Faithful was fantastic, we thought we had seen it all,
Then in the middle of the night, buffalo thundered down the hall.

The incredible Grand Tetons, a magnificent scene,
From the porch or the raft, it was like a dream.
Then we fixed up a cabin, hard work it ain’t,
We scraped and we brushed, till we ran out of paint.
The costumes were wild, it really was a hootie,
I heard one guest exclaim, “brother can you spare a bootie?”

The float trip was like a haven,
– – We saw three ducks and a raven!

Then out of the high country, down to Salt Lake City,
Tabernacles, temples, it all looked so pretty.

Took a tour of Olympic Park, the luge and bob sled run,
The loop de loop and ski jump, golly, that looks like fun.

Now we’re done, we’ve made new friends
It’s always melancholy, when the tour ends.
What a great group, always so prompt,
But Rob had advised, be late, be stomped.

With Steve at the wheel, Rob’s voice just purrs,
Many thanks to you guys, you’ve earned your spurs.

The Judge Says – Too Good To Be True


September 11, 1981

“Folks, we are going to give you a new camera, and the film is also free and all you have to pay for is a small processing fee to have the film developed.”  Does that sound familiar?  Yep, the old door-to-door huckster.  Have you ever wondered how these salesmen make a living when they give everything away free?  The answer is you will pay big for everything you get.

Here are some of the door-opening gimmicks.  “This offer is only available to members of the Armed Forces (Golly, they found a soldier living in Junction City – What a break).  Another way they get in your door is they tell you they are only taking a survey.

They will look you right in the eye and swear that what they want to talk about won’t cost you a cent. (that’s true, it’s going to cost you big bucks).  They will tell you that your name was randomly selected out of the phone book (so was your next door neighbor and his neighbor).

Back to the camera deal.  The camera is free, the film is free and over a two year period, you only pay $450 for film processing.  For 450 bucks you can get an oil painting.  Such a deal!

Let me give you a couple of rules for handling these turkeys.  First, no honest salesman is going to insist that you must sign the contract at the time he gives his pitch.  This bit about “this offer is only good tonight” is bull.  What do you think he will be doing the next night?

I have had salesmen in my house (whom I thought were reputable) who insisted that the offer was only good that night.  I turned red, my upper lip puffed out and I escorted them to the door.  They do this every night for a living, but your offer is only good for that night.  Think about that.  Balderdash.

Second, if you get taken in by these smooth talking snake oil salesmen, I have good news for you.  Under Kansas and Federal law you have a three-day cooling off period in which you can cancel the contract.  But you need to move fast.  If they can slip and slide, they will.

Another gimmick they will use is to tell you they will pay the down payment and you can pay them back later.  They want your signature in the worst way.  Once they’ve got it, they gotcha.

There used to be a clothing store in St. Louis that when you bought a belt, they threw in a free pair of trousers.  But, of course, the belts were not cheap.

Ladies and gentlemen, you may receive this totally free introductory offer simply by writing your name and address on the back of a ten dollar bill and sending it to me.

My Longest Day in Vietnam


No, I am not a hero and this isn’t about a firefight.  I am not trying to compare my experiences with those who lived and fought in the bush.  I was just a major assigned to the 1st Cavalry (Airmobile) Division as the Deputy Staff Judge Advocate.  It was 1970, so I remember parts of this adventure better than others.

A few days before, the executive officer of the 8th Engineer Battalion came into my “office” (my office had air conditioning – flaps down or rolled up) to explain that he was investigating an alleged rape that took place in Pleiku.  Our headquarters was in Phouc Vihn, about 30 miles north of Saigon.  Pleiku was approximately 300 miles to the north.  This young major advised that he would take care of the transportation, but he needed me along to advise him.

I agreed to go with him and a few days later, at 0-dark-30, we were in a chopper flying down to Saigon.  There, we loaded onto an Air Force C-130.  This old prop job must have flown a milk run to Pleiku everyday.  It was loaded with Vietnamese and their animals.  You sat in a canvas-strap sling trying not to draw attention, while the NCO load master screamed and yelled at everyone.  It’s hard to feel important when your butt is almost on the floor and you are staring at your knees.  I had no idea how long the flight took.  All I remember is noise and vibration.  We filed off the plane right behind a mamasan and her chickens.

We were picked up at the airport and taken to the CID (Criminal Investigation Detachment) Office.  The rape took place in a truck park.  In order to supply Pleiku, supply trucks were constantly traveling back and forth from Quy Nhon to Pleiku.  The drivers would overnight at the truck park.

We were able to interview the driver who brought the girl to the truck park.  She had planned to spend the night at the truck park and had been duly paid.  It turns out our suspect was in a nearby truck and he was lonely.  He remembered what he learned in kindergarten about sharing and went over to the other truck to find out if that driver had gone to kindergarten.  The driver with the girl was not interested in sharing.  So our suspect pointed his loaded weapon at the non-sharing driver and changed his mind.  “Oh yes, kindergarten.  Now I remember.”

Miss Su, the young Vietnamese girl, went with our suspect and was paid for her visit.  Since she was paid twice, I thought about making reference to double dipping, but I won’t.  Later, she returned to driver number one.  I was having trouble putting a rape case together.  It gets sticky when they accept payment.  But, if the fact checked out, I thought we had a pretty serious aggravated assault. Even though the Army was living with their weapons in Vietnam, we frowned on soldiers pointing loaded weapons at other soldiers in a threatening manner.

Now, we had to find the girl.  I don’t remember anybody mentioning it, but I guess the CID Office was at Camp Holloway.  Now we needed to go into Pleiku.  We were in luck.  Pleiku had been off-limits for years, but we arrived the day the off-limits was lifted.  I suspect we could have gone anyway as we were on official business, but it wouldn’t have been as entertaining.  As we drove in, young girls were trying to stop us on the street.  GIs were waiving around cartons of cigarettes.  I think I was observing the barter system in full operation.

Well, we found Miss Su and she verified what we had previously heard.  No rape, but a pretty serious assault with a deadly weapon.  On the way out of town, I began wondering what “Hey GI, I love you too much” really meant.

I don’t remember meals, but I think we got some lunch before we had to race out to the airfield to catch our cattle car back to Saigon.  More mamasans, more chickens and a louder load meister.  Hello knees.

We arrived at Tan Son Nhut Airport at dusk.  I think my engineer major, whose name stole away from me 40 years ago, felt his providing of transportation was completed.  But somehow, we needed to get out of Saigon.  We walked over to Hotel 3.  This was the tower for all the helicopter traffic.  I had used it a couple of times before with good success.  The tower was 50 to 60 feet above you and you, periodically, looked up to make sure it was still there.  Every so often a loud speaker announced that a bird was leaving for somewhere (eg. Tay Nihn or Bearcat) and could take so many passengers.  People would shuffle off.  It was getting darker and there were fewer announcements.

We wanted to go to Phouc Vihn, but would have taken Bien Hoa because our rear headquarters was there.  No announcement and we were the only two left.  It had been a long day and there didn’t seem to be any end in sight.  Suddenly, they announced that a bird was leaving for Long Binh.  I figured we could find a phone there and get someone from Bien Hoa to come get us.  We were desperate.

I have no idea where the pilot dropped us off.  It looked like a helicopter landing strip that was 300 yards wide and at least two miles long.  There were wooden one-story buildings lined up on one side of the strip, but no lights were on in any of the buildings.  Well, Long Binh had sounded good earlier.

There was a helicopter about a half mile down the strip and it looked like it was refueling.  We started walking toward it.  It would be nice to ask somebody where we were.  So much for the lieutenant with the map and a compass.  How about two majors wandering around in the dark on a helicopter landing strip.

When we got about 200 yards from the Huey, we saw the most beautiful sight.  There was a large yellow horse blanket on the nose of that bird!  We started running towards the Cav patch.  The crew was getting ready to take off, but saw these two crazy majors running towards them waiving their arms.  It was too good to be true.  They were on their way home and, now, so were we.  The pilot had a long white silk scarf wrapped around his neck.  Definitely Cav.  He kept smiling at us and we kept smiling at them.  It was like a long lost reunion.

I slept in my own bed that night.  I was really hungry the next morning.  Lunch had been my last meal.  But thinking about that Cav patch on the front of that Huey kept me smiling over and over.

A Bad Golf Day


The only thing worse than losing a golf ball is sometimes finding it.  The other day, after looking for my ball for over four minutes, I found it.  I could identify it as mine.  I just couldn’t retrieve it.  No, it wasn’t in water.  It was a cruel thicket.  Thorns and poison ivy.  I declared the ball not only unplayable, but unrecoverable.  It still lays there as a monument to bad luck.

I am one of those unusual golfers who acknowledges that what went wrong was probably my fault.  Whenever the ball is in a bad spot, I just say to myself, “hell, you hit it there.”  I am convinced most golfers are trained never to acknowledge a mistake.  “I never should have swung with that butterfly sitting on my ball.”  “Did you hear that noise at the top of my backswing?”  Or, on the green: “Did you see that ball jump?  “It must have hit something.”  “Something bit me.”  You have to give them “A” for inventiveness.  When I got home from my bad round, I found a good size rock wedged between the spikes on my right heel.  It probably affected my balance.

Is this a head game or what?  Tiger at Firestone is a classic.  Woods had won on Firestone seven times.  The course was made for Tiger’s game.  So what does he do this year?  He shot four rounds over par with a 78 on Sunday.  It’s time to borrow Tin Cup’s psychologist.  On second thought, never mind.

I had a good round going a while back.  Everything was in sync.  Good contact, good direction, and chips rolling close to the hole.  Then, I missed an 18-inch putt.  It must have hit something, because the ball darted off to the left.  Well, regardless of fault, that was the end of my good game.  Bad contact, bad direction and chips just dribbling onto the green.

All the books say, forget about the bad shot.  Move forward.  Concentrate on the next hole.  Blah, blah, blah.  I decided what I had done wrong (it was me) and what I needed to do on the next short putt.  Unfortunately, my next short putt was for a double bogey.

I’m 130 yards from the green and there is a sand bunker right in front of the green.  I hit a crisp iron and the ball lands on the fringe between the bunker and the green.  It trickles forward and rolls down toward the pin.  What a great shot!  But the same crisp shot could have landed six inches shorter in the same fringe and rolled back into the bunker, finally settling in a foot print where some jerk had failed to rake the bunker.  I guess that’s a bad shot.  And that six inches may be the difference between feeling good or bad about yourself.  I think the really good players have figured this out.  I’m still working at it.

After I got home, I found out that Mike Thomas, editor of www.DCguide.com is picking up my blogs and publishing them on their web site.  That made me feel good and anyway, I think I know what I did wrong on that 18-inch putt.

The Gillette Fusion Proglide Power


In my blog entitled “Me and My Old Man” (under “Random Thoughts”), I told you how my Dad and I loved the Gillette razors.  We would test every new razor and proclaim it a success.  When Dad passed on, I had to do the testing and proclaiming all by my self.

In the earlier blog, I mused about having “Fusion Power” tattooed on my knuckles.  It’s a good thing I didn’t because, as expected, Gillette has come out with a new model.  I ran right out and bought it – the Gillette Fusion Proglide Power.  Both the razor and the case are a rich royal blue.  The five blades are thinner, sharper and supposedly give a smoother shave.  It seemed smoother to me, but I’m so prejudice, I don’t think I can be trusted.

The biggest difference is when you push the power button, starting the blades to vibrate, a light comes on.  This light doesn’t illuminate your face, it illuminates the palm of your hand.  That probably makes it easier to turn the razor off in a dark room.  All you have to do is push on the lighted button.  Also, if you forget to turn the razor off before going to bed, it allows you to observe the razor as it vibrates across you floor towards your bed.  I think I see a horror movie plot here with at least two sequels!

I am now testing my Mach 3 Turbo and my Fusion Power against the lovely blue, lighted Proglide.  So far, the Proglide is the only one that can climb up a bedspread.  I wonder if I can get the stupid Federal Government to give me a grant for my testing.

The Judge Says – Crooked Carnival Games


June 27, 1980

When I was a kid back in East St. Louis, Illinois, I used to love to go to the carnival.  I used to stand by the hour and watch people try to knock over a bowling pin with a baseball hanging from a cord.  When the patron was only practicing, he could knock over the pin every time (you had to swing out the ball and knock the pin over on the back swing).  But as soon as the money was on the table, the ball couldn’t find the pin.  I knew it was crooked, but I couldn’t figure it out.

Well, last month, Bob Stephan, the Attorney General of Kansas, invited me out to the Kansas Bureau of Investigation in Topeka, and the KBI presented a program on how carnival games work.  I was right, most of the games are crooked.  Even the little innocent-looking mouse is a crook.  He always runs into a colored hole that no one has bet on.  The operator has ammonia on his finger and touches the hole he wants the mouse to go into.  The mouse is attracted to the ammonia and goes to that hole.  I also found out that there is a spot where the bowling pin can be placed so that the ball cannot hit it.  The pin is placed a little off the spot for practice shots.

Carnivals get by on the basis that there is always a sucker ready to part with his money.  I saw a spinning wheel  in Topeka that always won when it was spun to the left and never won when it was spun to the right.  All the numbers games with conversion charts are made so that you will never win.   If the operator shows you how easy it is to win, you can bet he didn’t add the numbers up right.  He will do it so quickly that you won’t be able to keep up with him.  But when the money is on the table – forget it – the addition will be impeccable and you lose.

The coin toss works on the percentage.  If you pitch enough coins, you may win a prize.  The $2.00 stuffed animal ends up costing you $5.00.  Such a deal.  The coin toss is rigged by hanging the prizes low over the dishes so the coins can’t be arched.  Further, the dishes are waxed and tilted at a slight angle.   My advice is to let your kids ride the merry-go-round and buy them some cotton candy.

BOO! I saw you smile!