Up to now, I have always considered
myself a reasonably sane person. Lately my mind wanders off into a deep abyss.
Phones, faxes, and emails by the zillions. Do this chip. Do that chip. Never
do another chip. I am not sure what physical existence is, anymore. Sometimes
it is easier to roam the dark crawl way of the inner mind than face a new aurora.
It is hard to tell if the creatures that inhabit this abominable province of
self gratification, are real or fantasized. I have been accused of creating
BoPo out of this nefarious place. I know he is real! “Open the pod bay door,
Hal!” BoPo will return someday and exculpate me of these ludicrous charges.
He will explicate all of you Doubting Thomas’s.
It is time to climb out of this hellish place and get on to more serious
matters. The Ground Hog has been maligned and I intend to come to his defense.
I hear through the grape vine that the Hog, even raised some eyebrows at the
powers that be. One misguided chipper sent me an obscene email about the Hog.
It seems that in a weak moment he made the statement “I will stop collecting
LE’s, if there is ever a chip for Ground Hog Day.” I swear by the chip god,
if I would have known you made that statement, the Hog would have stayed buried
in the dark recesses of my demented gray matter. Please do not stop chipping.
I could not live with myself, if I were the cause of any chipper throwing
in the Chip Rack. I promise never to do it again. No Hog II for February 1999.
No Hog III or IV. No Hog ever! I plead momentary psychosis. I maintain the
Hog came into being during a 17 minute blackout. I can not remember anything.
Sorta like the Nixon tapes. I will never resign my position as the Gaming
Times Chief Correspondent for North Las Vegas! But! Does that mean, we have
witnessed the only Hog ever to be issued in the history of chipping? Surely
no other casino would try to top “THE HOG.” Imagine 10 years from now when
even the discount dealers are offering the Hog for $500 each. You read right,
discount dealers, the Wal-Marts of chipping. The hobby has come of age. I
will leave that for another column. Back to the Hog. I refuse to take all
the blame. The mad chipper called one day with this little gem of an idea.
By the way, the Hog, looks like a Teddy Bear to me.
The Hog was not the only option for a chip. I am going to wish I had never
written that sentence. I can see it now, 50 emails saying the correct option
was, not to do another chip. I just could not help it. The beast within, had
to be placated. The other options as I saw them were, the 15th valentines
chip of the month or wait until March and do the 11th St. Patrick’s Day chip
of that month. No one loves me and I am not Irish, hence the Teddy Bear, OOP’s,
I mean the Hog. Then, I says to myself “Why not be different?” Then I says
to myself, “If you don’t stop talking to yourself, the men in white coats
(MIW) are going to come for you.” I actually thought about doing a chip for
National Bob’s Day, but I was not sure how many chippers there were named
Boob, err, I mean Bob. Of course I would have been in trouble with the Jim’s,
Bill’s, George’s, etc. There really is a National Bob’s Day, you know. I bet
the MIW showed up to get the guy that dreamed up that one. I guess I will
be in trouble with everyone that lives in Indiana, for saying that.
Trouble, I am always in trouble. Too many chips, not enough chips. The designs
are great, the designs suck. The pressure is overwhelming. What to do? Woe
is me! The vortex is spinning faster and faster. Where will it all end? Sometimes
the walls close in on me.
So, I says to myself, “The reality is, I am a chipper. I design chips. I
like the Hog. I ignored the knock at the door and grabbed the phone. I would
collaborate with fellow chippers. I valued their opinions. I would get direction.
Yes, they all loved the idea. By the way, I am in more trouble now. Everyone
I called is now taking credit for the Hog idea. OK, they can have the credit
and I will redirect the obscene email to them. So, I says to myself “This
problem is solved.” If only the person beating on my door would go away. Wrong,
the problem is not solved. Every time the chippers get together, all I hear
is, “I love the Hog, I am glad I came up with the idea.” “It was my idea,
no it was mine, I had it first, no I had it first.” The racket at the door
is over powering my thinking ability! Do I dare tell the identify of the real
mad chipper. My head is spinning. I feel I must rat on the culprit. But, I
do not want to be known as the Chip Rat! It boggles the mind. There is no
win. I can not take the pressure. Someone just kicked in my door! Oh no, the
MIW! I need to type faster, I must put the blame where it belongs. Get Back,
I say! Stay away from me! It was not my idea. “The Horror,” I am being blamed
for something that was not my fault. The chipper that really dreamed up the
Hog is -------- AAAAGGGG. NO! Not a gag! I will not be silenced! Help—Help,
the name of the real mad chipper is------
Three months later: As I sit on my cot and think, It just might be better
this way. An unpretentious 6x6 room, a bunk, a wash basin, and a commode.
The decor is plain and the walls are very soft for some reason. What happened
to my belt and shoelaces? The MIW tell me, there is hope. Someday I will write
again. Someday I will be ready to venture out into the world of chipping,
once more. They say, it was not all my fault. The mad chipper was an imagined
evil twin. He was born in that vast void we call the subconscious. I have
also come to understand that the world was not ready for The MOTHER OF ALL
CHIPS. The hog was destined for another era. Sometimes when you are sliding
on the cutting edge of history, the razor blade slips. It can make a nasty
gash in the windows of your mind. I will miss my friends, if I had any. I
just do not remember. My new address is email@example.com.
Or firstname.lastname@example.org -- April Fool
- I must really be crazy! This is May!!