My servant, Greenberg, will be leaving this weekend for Sin City. I am disappointed, but have faith—yes, even the omniscient have faith—that he will behave himself. He tells me he only goes for the gambling, and mainly poker at that.
You’re surprised that I approve of such seemingly sinful behavior? That’s because games of chance are one of those unnecessary taboos for the godly.
Show Me one place in My holy book where I forbid gambling. (Also not in the Bible, promises that if you give your SS check to a televangelist, I will reward you with a new Cadillac.) My ministers will say you should be a good steward of what you’re given and should not attempt to get rich quick or fall in love money. And these words of wisdom are very true. Compulsive gambling, pseudo-professional gambling, these are behaviors I can’t approve. But gambling as affordable entertainment—to rip the industry’s motto—that’s something I would, er, bet on.
I’m not a gambler myself. If I was, you could imagine a scenario like the premise of “Back to the Future Part II”: old Biff brings back a sports almanac from 2015, which his younger self uses to bet on sports and become wildly rich. But I don’t need an almanac from the future, and I already own the whole universe.
Have fun, Greenberg. You owe Me.
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