Quote from: Albalaha on December 30, 2016, 10:58:25 AM

Identifying trends or patterns or any other kind of fanciful guessing doesn't work in a short playable sessions.

I am not talking of the so called "advantage gamblers".

I think you are absolutely dead wrong, 1,000% concerning this.  Although you can say it both ways, meaning-one cannot identify anything 'before hand' or, one cannot identify when it is happening.

If you are merely saying, one cannot identify when it is going to happen, you are correct--of course.  However, in reality and in live casino play, players all the time can and do, identify a cluster or section or 'short playable' that will produce winner after winner.  I do it all the time.  But cannot say because of XYZ---ABC will happen and it will happen between hands 20 to 35 or whatever number. 

As far as a section with numerous hands that are either weak, strong, repeating trend or pattern, numbers strong or weak, cutting, etc., etc., etc., it is still the greatest and easiest way to capitalize on a cluster/section, etc., of baccarat.

Anyway, as far as baccarat, I have no idea about Roulette or anything else. 

To each and every one of you, although some of us truly know what to do at a casino table and others, well---let's just say need some guidance.  As far as greetings and wishes, here is all you need for this weekend..........................easy enough just to get it on with a click of your mouse.............




https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mcBLJJBNLiM

The Table was Full!.........................................12/28/16

The players were anxious but they took a breath and stood up and stretched.......

Alrelax just brought them back whole again......

Piggy-backing off of Alrelax's wagering decisions without a doubt!

What it was, was Alrelax's hyper-prepared casino personality and mind frame.....

Al stands up and says, "not a problem, lets continue our dark decent into madness here"....

And with that statement, the other players clapped and Alrelax took a bow.....

A few were intimidated by him, but they all respected his brain, considering that he saved their rear-ends plenty of times--right there at that same darn bac table.

Al has contingency plans for everything.....

And now it was the end of 2016.....

Al yells out....."Deal the cards---we are ready---hands down---take it to the Cashier's Cage"!

Part III

Waldo was totally amazed while observing the 3 Asian girls and then suddenly all 3 had blackjack and two of them embraced in a lip to lip kiss.  Waldo's mouth dropped open.  The female dealers mouth smiled in a huge grin and Waldo let go with a loud, 'WTF, seriously is the whole country turning gay'?  They all snickered and Waldo walked away in a haste of zombie aura to suit none.  One of the dealers was motioning for Waldo to come give a player a comp.  Waldo thought as he strutted to the far sided blackjack table, girls kissing and sucking each others tongue, guys banging guys, what the heck ever happened to buying a dozen roses and giving them to the opposite sex hoping to get some booty'? 

As Waldo arrived at the blackjack table with the impatient player who could not even stand still in one spot, the player lets go with, 'hey buddy I need a comp for 2 at the buffet and a spa treatment for my old lady'.  Waldo reached into his pocket and puts his hand around his trusting 'male member adjuster' and then, just before he could do his own form of justice, the player's wife struts up and she was fine.  Waldo held back his desire to give the player what he so rightfully deserved, as the player's wife gives Waldo a huge smile and flashed her breasts, artificial or not, they were definitely both perfect.  Waldo got out his comp pad and gave the player what he asked for and then shoed the two away.

Waldo's boss came over to the pit he was in, standing there wondering why he gave into that player.  By the second, he was getting himself more and more agitated and pissed off.  His boss taped him on the shoulder, Waldo turned around and was confronted by one pissed off person.  At the top of his lungs he yelled at Waldo, 'WTF did I just see you do'?  Waldo shrugged his shoulders and simply said, 'sorry the guy lost $6,000.00 earlier and I want to milk him like an old farmer milking his cattle, I want every last darn drop of cash them guys have'.  His boss wanted to back hand Waldo in the worst way, but he just shrugged his shoulders and told Waldo there was a VIP from out of state due to arrive in a few minutes.  The players name was Fang Dang Kimroll and his family was with him............................

How about, I don't want to post disruptive messages (but I will anyways) and I really do have mental issues??

Merry Christmas, If Santa is delayed to you that is cause he is caught up in our weather here.  Had 8 inches of snow yesterday in a few hours and then fog, ice and freezing rain.  This morning total dense fog, can not see 200 feet in front of you.  But anyway, Happy Holidays and good luck.

Quote from: vo rogue on December 22, 2016, 06:49:45 PM
  BRAVO, BRAVO,  ALRELAX   like the piano man said , "you could be a movie star, if you could get out of this site".
   mr. Dulay could you give a detailed critique of this quite stunning liturature. ?.

It is natural, I rather devote some time to something else I started, entitled:

"From Nowhere to Somewhere".

Someday.  And, thanks, I added some more of Waldo's adventures.   

Part II

That night when they finished hugging they just starred at each other and mumbled a few words.  Later that night in their bed, Waldo caught a glimpse of her naked body as she slipped on some lingerie.

Funny he thought.......long and hard......he could not remember the ever so glistening tattoo right above her butt.  The two letters, 'B B' with hot rod style of flames shooting from each.

Oh well, he let it go for the time being.........................

A few days past and it was bothering Waldo, while he was awake and in his most alert state at that!  He kept having the vision of seeing his wife, in a G-string with nothing else on except her favorite pair of 7 inch stripper high heels, prancing around and strutting in front of him.  Last night, Waldo was snuggled up in his favorite chair, his wife giving him his beloved zombie stripper show, something he has not witnessed in 5 long, very long years since she went missing.  Waldo handed her the glass jar of Smucker's Raspberry Jelly to simulate blood, she knew he wanted her to smear it all over her body when she got into the private sexy dance.  Waldo was getting back to his norm and he thought about the only other female he was ever with in such a way.  Sure, there was the occasional Sexy Susie and her 'gloved' release procedures for $15.00 for 15 minutes during the past several years, but Waldo was truly in love with his wife. Waldo was in zombie heaven while his wife got into the dance and performed for the rest of the night. Waldo finally found out his worst fears, his wife had some kind of sexual relations with Beefy Bob, because not one, not twice but 3 times she mumbled 'go beefy' while Waldo toke his liberties with her that night.  Waldo did not say anything to her and he wanted some time to ponder about what to do.  When way or another in Waldo's mind, Beefy Bob, that degenerated pizza maker down at the gas station would pay for what he had done to his adored wife. 

There Waldo stood, at the casino pit podium, thinking and thinking and thinking.  How and why did she get tattoo'ed in the traditional tramp stamp lower back location with the initials 'B B'?  It was eating him away and although he relished the feelings of being eaten away, just like his dreams of devouring a casino patrons flesh when they persistently badger him for comps.  Can I please have a comp for the buffet, can I please have a comp for the bar, can I please have a comp for the steakhouse, can I please have a comp for the show, can I please have a comp to use the toilet?  He stopped thinking for a moment and then snickered.  He made a short note on the pad in front of him and addressed it to the Senior Vice President of Casino Operations.  He thought to have a turn style installed at the head of the restroom charging the casino players to use the bathrooms.  He also put a note and highlighted it 4 times in different colors, 'do not allow the turn style to accept comps'!!!! 

Waldo returned to the vision of that tattoo on his wife's back.  He began to have detailed and explicated thoughts of Beefy Bob standing behind his lovely wife, taking her and making love to her while using Waldo's name in vain.  Waldo became furious and his ears and face turned a bright red and he banged and banged his fist on the pit podium.  Waldo banged the podium so hard, a couple of items bounced off the podium.  One player asked out loud, 'what's wrong with the floor person'.  The table games dealer said, 'that's just crazy Waldo, he has some family issues, his wife was missing for 5 years and she just returned home'.  The soon after, another player at the baccarat table in front of the podium asked, 'Hey Waldo can I get a comp for 2 to go eat'?  Waldo reached in his pocket, grabbed a knife and yanked the player's male member out and sliced it off.  Waldo reached down and picked it up, stuffed it in the player's jacket pocket and Waldo reached in his wallet, grabbed two dollars and stuffed it in the players other pocket.  Waldo said, 'there you go, why don't you go buy some hot dog buns and put that in the middle of it and have lunch on me'?  The player started to scream and hold his crotch, Waldo called security and told them he had a player that went ballistic on him and he wanted the player ejected and banned form the casino. 

Security came and removed the arrogant bothersome player and asked Waldo to write up a statement as to what happened.  Waldo, stood there bold legged.  Starred at the security supervisor straight in the face.  Waldo fixed his tie, a wide 70's style neon green with silver and yellow zig-zags.  He says to the security supervisor, 'I never tell you how to do your job, don't try to tell me how to do mine'.  These players are piss ants, bad people, they have no respect for me, you, our parents or our property here.  These players are disposable, they would stab you in the back or steal from you when you are not looking right at them.  They need to be taught a lesson and with many, as in the case of that Asian gambler, Youngee Lee Kimmie, he was a bad person with the Asian Triad gang known as the Silver Stud Diamonds and I personally know that the police want him for questioning in the disappearance of hundreds of dogs from the beloved families of our town.  The security supervisor hunches his shoulder and squints his eyes, 'huh'?  You unintelligent pervert, are you really that unintelligent?, Waldo asked him.  The security supervisor said, 'explain'.  Waldo said that, 'the Asian's run dog fighting contests and they snatched family pets in the middle of the night to train them for their entertainment and gambling ventures that hurt our casino's bottom line here, okay'?

The security supervisor apologized to Waldo and then they high five.  He tells Waldo, 'don't worry I got your back, I will just write it up that the player attempted suicide and went to slash his neck and must of miscalculated and somehow sliced off his Oscar Myer.  I will also throw in there that the player was ranting and raving about missing his opportunity to enter the 'Free for Life Buffet Pass' promotion we currently have going on and drawing tonight. Waldo said, 'good, I have some planning to do, later'. The security supervisor turned to Waldo as he was walking away, 'hey Waldo, have you seen Sexy Susie around, if you do, tell her to come see me I have something to ask her'.  Waldo gave him the thumbs up sign.

Back at the pit podium, Waldo propped himself up and starred out toward the eye in the sky.  Waldo, was thinking, thinking and thinking, deep in the proverbial phase 'thinking like a zombie'.  Another player came up and started, 'hey Waldo, can I'...... and the dealer that was between that player and Waldo, interjects.  'Give it a rest brother, seriously, it is no time to ask for anything, take my word for it'.  They stared each other in the eye for like 15 seconds and the dealer motions towards the fresh blood on the casino floor.  The dealer looks at it and walks away.

Waldo was deep, very deep into thought.  He knew he had to do something about Beefy Bob.  Right then Waldo's wife walked up.  'Hey Waldo can I get a comp for the food court, I'm starving for my grilled cheese hun'.  She added, 'be sure to put and extra $3.75 on it because there is a huge sign over the cafe counter saying; "maple syrup and grapefruit slices on sandwiches are $3.75 extra".  Waldo dug into his pocket, got his comp slip out and filled it in for his lovely wife.  He glanced over at her, she was extremely pretty today he thought.  Her high heels on, her tight jeans with her thong bikini underneath pulled high over her hips, in plain sight and very noticeable to say the least.  She had on a midriff white and sparkling sequin blouse that showed her entire exposed, perfectly in shape stomach, pierced belly button and that tattoo on her back.  Waldo noticed his wife's jewelry hanging from her belly button, it was a gold 'W' for his initial and a $ sign as well.  He kept his composure but he was fuming inside, like a nuclear reactor about to go off.  All Waldo was thinking about was payback on Beefy Bob, and Waldo didn't just want typical revenge, desired a permanent lesson for corrupting and abusing his lovely wife.  Waldo wanted blood. 

She pranced away towards the casino's food court area and Waldo leaned back against the pit podium and thought, and thought and thought.  Finally Waldo noticed a group of Asian females at the blackjack table, all giggling and talking in their native tongue as well.  If there was one thing that pissed Waldo off, it was players not speaking English or the other official dialog of the United States, Redneck.  Waldo slowly made his way over to blackjack table #15. Waldo asked them, 'how are you lovely little rice farmers doing today'?  All three looked at each other and spoke their native tongue about Waldo.  He said, 'I hope you girls know it is only polite and respectful to speak English here'.  He offered them a comp for the Chinese restaurant and one of the girls shoed him away with her hand.  When he walked away he said just loud enough so they could hear him, 'anyway their butts are all flat, no shape, nothing'.  One of the girls asked the dealer, 'can you call the floor manager for us please'.  The dealer responded, 'you were just speaking to him'. 

Wonderful Waldo, 'can I please have a comp for the buffet dude'................

The Almighty Casino Zombie Pit Personnel, Second to None! 

The zombie pit personnel's wedding picture, spattered with her blood, kept him company when he sat at home waiting for his next casino shift to be pestered by grumpy and pissed off players asking for casino comps of some type. Of course, after a five year investigation, the local police department could never find the body of the zombie's missing wife.  The setting in plague now confined him to his home except for the six, 12 hour days at the casino in the role as floor person, and one look out the window showed him a staggering, shifting army of half-rotted people, their once pristine clothing now tattered and dust stained.  He choose to live in the rear of the trailer park in the most run down section of town.  He was not very well liked except by a hand full of old ladies and of course, Sexy Susie, the town's aging hooker that charged only $5.00 for every 5 minuets, was his most treasured moments. 

Although the Zombie's life was reduced to only the shifts he worked at the local casino and a little treasured secret of pulling zombie clown pranks, he was a strange individual by most people's opinions that met him.

Already, Waldo had read every book in the house, from the 'Details and Methods of Global Effect' to 'How to Screw a Hooker and Get The Most Bang for the Buck'. With the state of things in the country, the television and radio hadn't been airing entertainment in months. But he seemed to live for the early 3:30 AM Saturday talk show which was on the AM radio.  It was entitled, "How to deal with a female's worst problem, yeast build up'. Rations were low. Morale non-existent in the town, everyone worked in or around the casino and after work, they all played the machine or gambled at the tables.  Those that worked at the casino would just go change clothes and then return to the bars on the casino property.  Waldo missed holding his wife the most, the press of her warm flesh, the smell of lavender in her hair mixed with the casino smoke where she sat all day playing the penny slot machines.  Only one time Waldo caught her in the high limit slot room and she was sitting on the lap of the young town stud, 'Bob Beefy'.  Strange, the very next day she came up missing and that was five years ago. 

When he was home he sat in the same chair kept his rifle a thirty aught six that he once felled a doe with, in happier days braced across his knees. When he was home he never did anything else except sit there and stare at the picture of his missing wife.

As much as he tried to avoid it, the sounds of her shuffling, her moaning, kept him awake most nights. Waldo's cries were merely ambient noises, harrowing in their desperation, comforting in their reliability.

His grip tightened on the stock of the rifle.  Thousands of times the thought of giving Beefy Bob what he is rightfully deserved raced through his mind.  Waldo called weekly to the local police department and always told them the same thing, "Hey when are you guys going to arrest and jail Beefy Bob who murdered my precious wife"?

Gone now.  Waldo realized he was alone when he was not in his beloved casino position of floor person. 

Waldo, most nights stopped at the local gas station to get his supper to go when he got off shift at the casino.  It never changed,  two slices of the frozen pepperoni pizza, an Almond Joy candy bar and two chocolate milks and a thing of tic-tacs.   And, that is where Beefy Bob worked. Beefy Bob made the pizzas, carefully taking them out of the freezer, unwrapping them and putting them into the pizza oven.  Every once in a while if no one was looking, Beefy Bob would blow snot from his nose onto the slices of pizza Waldo asked for.  Waldo would stand there and stare at him and Beefy Bob would say the same thing, every night, "heard from her yet Waldo"?  Outside the gas station c-store Waldo would always just ponder for a few minutes before getting in his car to leave, it would tempt him.  Crossing Waldo's mind, thousands of times, he easily pictured Beefy Bob with his arms and legs and male member cut off.

Before she came up missing everyone said that they were soul mates, he promised her he would love her in sickness and in health, through better or worse, until death do they part. What was her current condition other than then missing? Only Waldo truly knows.

When he was home his hand hesitated on the doorknob to the side room, the butt of the gun tucked up against his shoulder. Trembling, the cold knob became slippery in his hands. He missed her smile, the annoying way she embraced every morning, and the feather light touch of her hand in his when they slept.

Taking the gun, he shuffled toward the living room to the sounds of her fingernails scraping against the door, trying desperately to make a meal of him.  He was delusional at times and often he thought she was still there.  He even calls the casino at times and has her paged.  Other times he stares out the window from his chair expecting Beefy Bob to attempt a break in or something else in his mind. 

He flipped on the small, hand-cranked radio that he scavenged from his trip to Wal-Mart. Mostly, he found static, but occasionally, he would find dire warnings, instructions on how to meet up with authorities, and news on the collapse of the infrastructure that had protected them all for so long that used to be  part of the large warehousing complex that existed before the casino was built in the town.

Never did they talk about a cure for getting the town back to normal and ridding it of all the zombies.  There was problems but most grew accustomed to the way of life they were reduced to.

Every day, he listened in the hope that a new clinic would open with a miracle cure for the town. Yet the news never mentioned an antidote. It certainly mentioned research by the local community college, but never a success plan being developed.

Waldo picked up the blood splattered wedding photo while the dire news crackled over the radio. Right before she came up missing, when she was at her worst, the festering, dripping, gummy flesh of her bitten hand leaked gore throughout the house as she wandered, looking for comfort. Then she found this photo. And she looked at him, a look that begged him, helpless, drowning, knowing that she was beyond saving.  All he had to do was give her $20.00 to play the penny machine and she was a happy camper.  Of course Waldo, had the other zombie pit personnel comp her every day for meals and bar drinks.  Her favorite meal was the grilled cheese and Nestle quick strawberry milk.  She always had the food counter person pour maple syrup on top and round up some grapefruit slices to put on the sandwich also, weird but you have to take into consideration the type of people these are.

She was 'walking God' to the zombie floor person and a little secret not too many really know in the town.  Waldo never had sex with anyone besides his wife and Sexy Susie, the town's hooker.  Waldo never said anything, she was the only one he ever respected. 

That was the day she went to the high limit room and was spotted by Waldo, sitting and grinding her 70 year old booty into Beefy Bob.

Waldo often wonders, what went wrong. He always gave her the $20.00, comps and he religiously took his little blue Viagra pills.  Husbands were supposed to protect, to keep their wives from harm, to provide all that she needed to live a decent, happy life. That is all he ever wanted.

Taking up his weapon, Waldo walked the narrow hallway to the side room. He heard a clawing at the door and it increased in intensity, sounding like the rapid scurrying of a mouse behind a wall. He pushed the entrance open and stepped in, not bothering to close it behind him.

The gun firmly in his hands.

Outside, the sound of other unfortunate souls suddenly became clearer, and each one seemed to have a separate cry. No other sounds came to him, the great machinery of modern life ground down to what most would say was inhuman suffering.

There she was, or what remained of her, stood in the center of the room, her body as slim as she had always been, now framed in the sights of his rifle.  She smiled and simply said, Waldo I love you but Beefy Bob raped me and I just could face you, I lived behind the casino for the past 5 years.

Tears streamed down his face, and his wife's head quirked to the side, as if not understanding a question he asked. Then she came at him, arms extended, ruined nails still showing chipped red polish, her lips pulled back to reveal gore encrusted yellow teeth.

I love you, he told the approaching missing wife he loved so much.  As he lowered his gun he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, smelling the grilled cheese he knew without a doubt his life was back to normal. Only one thing was running through his mind, should he keep the old G-string of hers in his jacket pocket or put them away.

He embraced her, closing his eyes, remembering the happiness in that wedding photo, and the feel of her sharp teeth tearing into his neck did not bother him at all.  In fact, he kept a pair of her unwashed g-string panties in his casino jacket front pocket.  What for, heaven only knows, but he religiously wipes his hand on them just before giving the casino patron the valued comp slip he so painfully writes each and every shift repeatedly.  The zombie snickers and he observes repeatedly, the patron grabbing the slip, puts it in his pocket and then with the same hand rubs his nose or picks his teeth, every once in a while he catches a patron sniffing some strange aroma that suddenly got onto his fingers? I can personally assume it is Waldo's cheap entertainment skit that he seems to get a real chuckle over. 

That just might explain why the Zombie Pit Personnel always seem to be snickering off to the side while they scan and avoid casino patrons.

Almost all bills can be paid with a pre-paid debit card.  IMO, some auto loans cannot, it depends on the lender.  Most of them you have to have a regular debit card hooked up to a bank or something like H&R Block, etc.  Not a PayPal or PayPower or NetSpend type of card you buy in a WalMart or a super market. 

Do you want me to stop by or not? 

If you do, the  deal is---hold those stale cookies, the Cuban Sandwich with jalapeños like I said! 

Merry Christmas and yes, I am the sleigh pilot!

Tiny Little Mouse Balls!!!  LOL!

At the casino over the weekend.  Great scene happened.  My buddy, an x-NYPD officer was visiting and we went to play.  We are into the typical stuff for a couple of hours.  All of a sudden a new dealer comes in and I turn to my buddy and simply say, 'Fortune 7' time.  We both throw up a quarter.  The rest of the table in their chopped and broken English say, 'You guys really think so'?  My buddy in his heavy NY accent says, 'Of course--dealer new--problem no--chop chop go-go---up Fortune ok'.

Most of them throw up a nickel or two.  Dealer deals and this is a new dealer without a trainer standing behind him.  Players have a total of 3 and Bankers have a total of 6.  Players 3rd card was a 7 and the dealer pushes the Bankers 2 cards out and says Banker wins.  There is no one on players and half of us had a Fortune wager up.  2 people did not and had larger wagers on the Banker.  They are also saying Banker won, no draw.  We look at them like they are crazy.  Worst thing is we tie.  We still have a shot at Fortune and no card pull can make us lose anyway.  The shoe rhythm was basically okay, no need to change anything really IMO.  The dealer is confused and didn't have the experience to remember or deal the 6 or 7 for the Players when the Banker already had a total of 6.   

Floor person is all the way down the other end of the pit.  My buddy stands up, pretty big guy, still has his shape without a doubt.  Puts his hands on the table railing and tells the dealer not to do anything and call the floor person, he still needs to pull another card.  The dealer says okay and tells everyone to wait, the floor person is too far away to hear.  My buddy grabs his own crotch and tells the dealer, 'what's wrong you got little mouse balls or something, yell down there like this' and he lets go with a huge 'floor person we need you' yell, loud and 100% obnoxious but got the attention of the whole pit for sure.  Floor person comes over, and it is one that never combats anything really.  My buddy explains the situation to the floor person who doesn't know whether to laugh or tell my buddy to sit the freak down or not.  Then my buddy says, 'pull a friggin card and get it over with, are the dealers balls so tiny there are like half the size of baby mouse balls'??  I mumble the movie title, "The Heat" and my buddy is like, "Yeah, love that movie".   

Floor person starts laughing and says, 'sometimes I feel like I got mouse balls'.  So my buddy says pretty darn loud, 'anyone seen the pit person's balls, come on we are looking for this guys balls'.  Everyone is cracking up around us, it was all taken in good gesture and the pit person finally motions the dealer to pull a card.  Dealer pulls a monkey of course. 

Here is what we were referring to for those that never saw the move:

https://vimeo.com/86939689

So next hand we throw up any quarter each on the Fortune 7 and I throw out a nickel for the dealer next to my quarter, my buddy does the same.  At least 3 of the Viet ladies at the table playing once again say, 'you guys think Fortune' in their choppy English.  My buddy says, 'Like plate of noddle and Asian monkey balls down in Manhattan, lower-china town, back of restaurant--fresh, no problem baby'.  Remember this guy is big, well over 250 and about 6' 3" or so, spent a good 20 years on the Emergency Service Unit for NYPD.  For those that don't know what ESU does, they do all the high risk warrants, hostage or sniper calls, robbery in progresses and rescue operations, types of calls.  Anyways, he keeps pointing to the Fortune where the 3 ladies are sitting and convinces them to all throw up something on it.  Tells the dealer to wait, fixing his wager and then he throws up a nickel next to his Fortune wager for the dealer and puts 3 nickels out besides each of the Viet ladies $5 or $10 wagers up on their Fortunes as well.  Looks at the dealer and tells him, '$1,000.00 plus in your pocket if you can just deal us a darn Fortune 7'.  Dealer nods his head.  My buddy tells him, 'come the frick on man, it isn't going to come out with that kind of attitude'.  Dealer tries to pump it up a notch but it isn't working.  My buddy let's go with, 'deal us a damn Fortune or those little mouse balls you have will shrivel up'.  And he was loud, everyone around is laughing once again. 

Everyone is on the Banker side and the dealer actually asks my buddy, 'may I deal now'.  It was not a sarcastic type of response, he was actually intimidated by him.  My buddy goes, no.  We call the floor person over and tell him, 'just so there is no problem here and the flow of cards does not get stopped by your prime time super dealer, stand there please.  Floor person says to the dealer, 'you got a lot riding on this one, I would suggest you attempt to make a Fortune 7'.  My buddy tells the dealer to deal as he throws up another quarter on his Fortune and I do the exact same thing.  We are both standing and my buddy is calling the cards.   He says, 'Players have.....a Blackjack a 1'.  Then the dealer flips the Banker cards and my buddy says, 'Banker has a 2, okay we have a shot at this'.  So my buddy puts his arm at and stops the dealer from dealing.  Floor person says, 'we need more cards still'.  My buddy goes, 'I know that, of course no s*** Sherlock, I have to tell the dealer some words of wisdom'.  Floor person crosses his arms and says, 'this ought to be real good'.  Everyone is laughing again.  With all his going on, I am thinking a monkey and a 5 has to come out without a doubt.  My buddy tells the dealer, 'monkey or maybe an ace or a deuce, that is it and save that 5 for us, okay'?  Dealer is getting a bit more into it and shows a bit more enthusiasm at this point.  Dealer pulls a card for the players and produces a monkey.  My buddy turns and high fives me.  He says, 'now with both those little mouse balls you got pull that damn 5 out of that shoe and give it to us'.  The Viet ladies are all hyped up and pointing to the Fortune 7 wagers all over the table.  All of a sudden one of them in their broken English says, 'One thousand for dealer---dealer one thousand baby--come on'.  I know the floor person for a few years now and he is just standing their laughing.  A few people came over from the other surrounding blackjack tables and pai gow tables around us.  The cocktail waitress is behind us and a few other players around as well.  All of a sudden everyone is chanting 5....5....5....5.....5. The dealer has his hand on the shoe and looks at my buddy and says, 'are you ready'?  My buddy throws his hands up in the air and says as loud as he can, 'come the frick on-deal it already'.  He pulls the card and flops it, it sure enough is a 5 and all hell breaks out at and around the table.  My buddy sticks his fist out there to fist bump the dealer and then high fives him, floor person pats him on the back and congrats the dealer on his $1,000.00 plus tip (dealers keep their own tips at this property in full). So my buddy tells the dealer, "see what you can do--when you get rid of them mouse balls"!!!  What was so cool....is he says stuff like that with complete 100% conviction, no laughing or snickering, adds to the aura and the instant time beyond what most can envision.

Another one for the books....................

Quote from: Jay on December 17, 2016, 02:36:25 AM
Well thanks but whether you choose to call it "prediction" or something else doesn't really resolve the dilemma as far as I can see. What you seem to be saying is that you try to anticipate a winning streak based on one or more past wins, and the signal to stop betting is when you get one or more losses. If there was an advantage in this it should show up in the stats shouldn't it? But according to my research it doesn't. What I've found is that past successes don't reliably indicate future successes, and also past losses don't indicate more losses. What seems to be the beginning of a trend could reverse at any time, and similarly what seems be the end of a trend could also be just be temporary. What happens is that the false starts and ends eat away at your bankroll so that in the end you break even, or worse.

Exactly!  There is no 'prediction' that can prevail past a section/shoe/a couple of shoes here and there.  The key to it all, is hit and run, or bang it out big time when it is there, etc., etc., and so on. 

Ref the 'false start and eats away at the bankroll statement.  That is what gets the highest majority of the players.  Again, the key is to bang it out with larger wagers when your key triggers are present and capitalize on that section and then be done with it. 

RTM or losing time.  Or, simple terms, you played a section on a baccarat card and hit 4 times wagering on the opposite side---after it was already 3 in a row repeating.  Then the following half a shoe or a section, went 7 or 9 times or even more---once the 3 repeats showed up.  Or you won 15 units/wagers and lost the next 15 unit/wagers over the course of an equal amount of time playing.  Or, your 'key triggers' worked each and every time for the shoe and failed on the two subsequent shoes.

And that is what I have been preaching along with a few other things with figuring out a win and giving myself a boost with the 1/3rd system everyone here is apparently against.  But hey, it's all good!