Big Denny's Bloog

"Hey, Maxey," Big Denny greeted me with his usual salutation. "I been hearin' people talkin' about dere bloogs. What da hell is a bloog, anyways?"



"Bloog? Oh, you must mean blog. Well, as I understand it, the name comes from a combination of web and log. It's kind of a personal report that people post on web sites. A lot of poker players have been doing it, too."



Big Denny scratched his head. "Blog, bloog, either way it's a dumb name. What does people write about on dose t'ings?"

"Oh, everything. How much their hotel room costs, what they had for lunch, all their bad beats, that sort of thing."



"Yeah, but why bother? Who cares?"



"Well, for a lot of reasons. For some people, it's just an exercise in ego – or a way to vent and complain about things, or maybe to get out to the public what they consider to be important news. For example, Doomsday Don is always warning about some impending threat that will bring the world to an end.



"Others," I continued, "are professional writers, and they get paid for talking about poker. And sometimes bloggers are trying to promote something. Take Ralph the Rattler. He's always promoting his home games. Or, Oklahoma Johnny



Hale; he's always promoting a good cause – himself."



"Hey, ya t'ink I could write one of dem bloogs – I means blogs – an' promote da Barstow Card Casino?"



"Promote? What's to promote? Your cow barn casino? Your crooked dealers? Your rigged games? Your poisonous buffet? Or maybe barf-fay would be a better description for that slop house."



Big Denny wasn't amused. "Maxey, you keep dat stuff up, an one of dese days youse is gonna be part of some freeway overpass, just like Jimmy Hoffa."



"You know where Jimmy Hoffa is?" I asked excitedly. "Which freeway?"



Big Denny's eyes narrowed. "Ferget I said dat, Maxey. Remember, I ain't in da line of work no more. Anyways, how does ya go about writin' dat stuff?"



"Oh, there aren't any rules, really. You just write down whatever comes to mind, whatever happened that day, kind of like a diary."



"A diary? We got enough diaries already wit' all dem farmers an' cows around here."



Trying to hold an intelligent conversation with Big Denny was as impossible as trying to find an honest poker game in his establishment. But, for some reason, I always keep trying. I found a notebook, demonstrated to him the difference between a diary and a dairy, and he finally nodded his head in a semblance of understanding.



"Yeah, I t'ink I got it now, Maxey. But I never was too good at writin' t'ings. Dey had really lousy teachers at dat reform school dey sent me to. Hey, maybe I could just talk t'ings into a tape recorder, an' den you could write it out for me an' fix it up an' den put it yer column. Yer stuff is gettin' pretty stale lately, not dat it ever was dat good in da first place, so I figger ya kin use some good material fer a change."



Just what I needed, a job as Denny's ghostwriter – the Boswell of Barstow. But, then a devious idea occurred to me, so I agreed to help out the big baboon.



A couple of weeks later, his first tape arrived in the mail. It was a little hard to understand, given Denny's gruff voice, his complete indifference to diction, grammar, and pronunciation, to say nothing of the jarring interruptions as he barked out commands and reprimands to his staff and patrons. Here are a few samples:



"Ya ain't takin' enuff rake outta da pot, Louie. In dat last hand, ya let da guy who won it get more den da house did."



"Who ya tellin' ta change da deck, buster? How'd ya like me ta change da shape of yer nose?"



"Da chip runner didn't shortchange ya, pal. He was just takin' out a little toke fer service."



Anyway, I finally managed to sort out the blog from the interruptions and more or less figure out what Big Denny was saying. So, here it is, followed by my interpretation of what he really meant:



He said: "Well, da Barstow Card Casino is havin' anudder anniversary. It sure is swell runnin' dis elegant joint fer all da great people in dis town, an' I want everyone ta know how happy I am ta be here."



He meant: Making a living from the farmers here is like trying to get the best of it when you make a deal to stake Frank Henderson in a tournament. As soon as my probation is up and they permit me to leave, I plan to burn the joint down, collect on my insurance, and blow this burg.



He said: "I had da pleasure of a visit by da Barstow Police Department today. Dey made an inspection, an' as usual, dey found everyt'ing runnin' proper an' complimented me on my outstandin' management."



What He meant: After a patron complained that I was running an illegal dice game in the backroom and using loaded dice, the cops staged a midnight raid. Fortunately, I had a lookout staked outside the police station, and was able to hide the dice table just in time. The cops warned me that they would revoke my probation if there was one more complaint. I believe I'll instruct my boys to have a little talk with that blabby customer.


He said: "It gives me great pleasure ta announce dat a new record has been set fer bad-beat jackpots at da Barstow Card Casino. Last night, one of da casino's regular players, Lefty Logan, got hisself a $2,175 payout when his straight flush got beat by five of a kind. Dat Lefty sure is lucky. Dis is his t'ird jackpot in a year. Da Barstow Card Casino is da place ta play."



He meant: The jackpots, like everything else at the Barstow Card Casino, are rigged. Anytime they start getting higher than I like, one of the railbirds here is set up to be dealt a jackpot, which he then hands over in return for a small fee.


He said: "Da restaurant critic fer da Barstow Bugle visited our Four-Star Buffet a coupla weeks ago. I can't wait ta see his review, but fer some reason it ain't come out yet."



He meant: The critic is still in the hospital.



Well, that's Big Denny's first bloog. I'm not sure if I'll do any more for him, because the work is kind of tedious. Maybe I'll just let Jim McManus take over for me.