About gambling

Like most my semi-nomadic brethern, who work their asses off in order to buy another weeks worth of roof over their heads, I just finished what I like to call the "rent rally"--which includes a hard fought sprint, waiting tables in order to keep your rent check from bouncing.
Suffering of worn-out legs and a distaste for whatever requires getting out of the house, I went to an online poker room, prepared to sacrifice steaks for Ramen Roodles in order to let luck sort it all out.
Starting with $10 in my online account, I started my journey.
"What have I got to lose?" I said.
Obviously too much.
I sat down at my computer, poised for the reality of what may happen, paralyzed by the fear of what I knew was going down. And went down it did.
Yet, one pure fact can be skimmed from this sludge: the sirens of quick money are usually lying behind razor-sharp cliffs, hiding their blood-soaked fangs until you get within their reach---only the lucky survive.
That alone makes it an unacceptable activity for either the optimistic or the gullible.