You Fucked Up Son.

Two articles back I posted some tough guy rant about never giving up.  I think it was called Fight or Die.  Someone wrote that and posted it on and I was feeling like I actually had a pair that day and was feeling too lazy to write something more original and gripping like my usual garbage so I copied and pasted and added the McFucking Kill Yourself pic and the post was seen by maybe 17 people tops.  That’s not really the point of course.  My point actually has more to do with the fact that I posted some shit about “pain being my breakfast cereal” and how the weak are culled from the pack we call the human race just by virtue of being weak.  The post implied that I am the opposite of weak and all the pussies out there crying into their Wheaties should take notice, be on alert, read my bullshit manifesto and take immediate action to stop their cowardly sniveling ways.  Either that or be prepared for that inevitable “culling” as if some quazi-military outfit was out patrolling the streets of the world, sniffing out weakness in mankind and snuffing out the man exhibiting the signs of weakness.

I didn’t mean anything by the post except to maybe offer some encouragement to people out there suffering needlessly due to fear and to possibly motivate whoever needed the motivation to dig a little deeper to obtain what they wanted in this life instead of curling up at the first sign of strife and rolling over.

I have no place to call my own.  I have no car to call my own.  I have no money to call my own.  I have nothing to call my own except my skateboard and some clothing and a few paintings and other miscellaneous odds and ends.  I am a grown man allegedly.  I have three college degrees, two from excellent universities.  I have had a plethora of different jobs and plenty of money.  Unfortunately all of these degrees, jobs and paychecks were no match for my gambling addiction.

Compulsive gambling is really fucking bad unless you are some incredibly lucky motherfucker which as you all probably know is not very likely.  Common sense should dictate that over time, an individual gambler has absolutely zero chance of winning money and a 100% chance of losing his bankroll. Have you ever checked out a place like Pechanga Casino?  Its located in Temecula, California in the middle of a beautifully appointed highway surrounded by lovely and assuredly expensive  mini estates.  Sort of like a rich man’s housing tract.  Across the street to the right is a wonderful park with all sorts of good stuff for fitness minded people to get into.    The surrounding area of Temecula is very upper middle class and the whole outlying area is also coming up.By outlying area I’m talking about Murrieta, Lake Elsinore, even South Corona.

The casino itself, easily rivals any Las Vegas casino that I’ve ever seen.  For sure.  Its totally massive and very fucking nice.  The hotel rooms are bad ass.  The grounds are bad ass.  I’ve never seen the golf course but I’ve heard its bad ass and it definitely ain’t cheap to play there.  Keep in mind that I know several people who have been going to Pechanga Casino since it was a series of tents with no real framework structure in place.  Let me tell you, its no homeless tent city anymore baby.  Far from it in fact.  There are thousands of slot machines and hundreds of table games and a bunch of restaurants, a food court, several bars and night clubs and a massive poker room up the escalators.  We are talking hundreds and hundreds of millions of dollars worth of infrastructure in terms of land and buildings.  I don’t know any sort of accurate number as far as how many people are employed there but its got to be in the thousands.  And that’s just in security personnel hahahahaha.

Ha that’s funny shit but it does seem like it.  They have so many god damn detectives and uniformed security guards and outside roving patrols on bikes and in trucks and Reservation Rangers in 4 x 4’s roaming around the place you would think that the President of the USA worked there or something.  He doesn’t.  However one night I did see Dr. J (Julius Erving) playing the $25 dollar slots in the high limit room (and losing his ass and being a total fucking pompous ass prick, much too good to talk to any of the common folk in the casino) one night.  Like who really gives a fuck right?  Duh.

They have a big sign which reports how much the casino paid out for the day, week, month and maybe even year over on the right side of the casino by the food court kind of and I remember looking at it one day and they had paid out like over six million or some shit that day.  Which has to tell you what kind of money that fucking place is raking in on a daily basis.  Trust me if they are paying $6,000,000 out in jackpots in one day they are profiting $36,000,000 on that same fucking day.  Do the math, be boggled by the numbers and start to let it sink into your head why the Pechanga Indian Tribal Members each get paid $15,000 a month for doing absolutely jack shit nothing and why the whole Southern part of Riverside County is starting to resemble Bel Air more than Home Gardens.

Just staying on the conservative side and saying that the casino has profit of $10,000,000 a day that’s like 3.65 billion dollars a year.  I know that sounds fucking insane but I’m thinking that its got to be true.  That place is straight out balling hardcore.  And what is the product that they sell, which is in such high demand from a huge percentage of the population living within 80 miles of that place?  To be honest that product could be called many things but essentially it boils down to greed and its really quite a complicated product indeed.  In fact its a mind fuck of monumental proportions, one which is everchanging but for the most part based on one of the baser emotions that humans feel.  I’m talking about greed, desperation, extreme joy, crestfallen sadness, depression, arrogance and pride, plus avarice and lust and narcissism and selfishness and self righteousness and indignation and disbelief, and inevitability, and superhuman power.  An array of self centered, frantic emotions very very high to the point of incredible or very very low to the point of crawling underneath a rock and dying.  That’s it.  That’s the product they deal.  Some call it hope.  Some call it entertainment.  Call it what you will it boils down to a human being wanting to get something for nothing, to magically turn $10 into $2000 (which I personally, have done at Pechanga Casino playing Cleopatra Keno).

Everyone has the same anticipatory semi confident, devil may care attitude when they first start off on a gambling extravaganza.  It feels awesome to walk into the casino with your pockets full of money, walk up to a machine thrown in a twenty or a hundred and just start winning.  Machine after machine, every thing you touch seems to turn to gold and you can win thousands so fast it seems crazy and you start wondering to yourself how the casino can afford to be doing this and still make a profit.  You feel like you can’t lose and sometimes I’ve had these kinds of streaks carry on for a couple of straight days or even 11 straight days as I did the first time I visited Melbourne Australia in 2004.  Every single day for 11 straight days I won and won and won and ended up winning 15,000 had my airfare and hotel and about five grand worth of clothes and hundreds of dollars worth of food, drinks and crystal meth paid for.  It was an awesome trip in every way.  I know what those streaks feel like and they are so incredible.

I’ve learned, the hard way though, that streaks like that are incredibly few and far between.  Streaks like that end.  They end badly.  For me they end horribly because I start freaking out and before I know it I’ve given literally every single dollar I’ve won back to the casino.  Plus everything I brought with me that I had just sitting in my wallet untouched up to now,  plus everything I can get from my ATM and every credit card and the money I left in the car and the money I left at home and the money I borrow from all of my friends at the casino, all of it, every single fucking dime of it, right into their outstretched hands.  I haven’t done this once or a dozen times.  I’ve done this literally hundreds and hundreds of times.  So many times you would think I have a fucking hole in my head and all of my fucking brains have leaked out and there is just an empty space there.  That many times.  Too many times.  Way too fucking many times.  And then even more times than that.  And more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more.  To the point where you are sick of reading it, I’m fucking sick of typing it but still I’m not done yet because yeah you can throw in a bunch of more times on top of it all.  Trust me.  I could try to remember all of the times and it would end up only being 25%.  That’s how pervasive and sick and horrible and truly deplorable and inexcusable my gambling problem has been.

I’m a walking, talking, educated, living, breathing example of why Pechanga Casino is so fucking rich that they are basically a law unto themselves and effectively they answer to nobody.  They are so far above the law that you have to just bow down and accept the fact that fair or unfair they are going to do whatever the fuck that they want to do and what they want to do is take every single person who walks through their  doors to the proverbial cleaners, fleecing them, leaving them with nothing but the memories.  They want to clean your clock and somehow convince you that you had fun getting your clock cleaned and that you actually have a chance in fucking hell of getting even the next time you walk through the doors like an Alzheimer’s patient who forgets his name every ten minutes and shits into his Depends every afternoon.  Pechanga Casino is the definition of insanity that makes the most sense to me.  If I literally looked at the online definition of insanity on the Webster’s Dictionary website and there were no words only a picture of Pechanga Casino trust me, I would completely understand and so would millions of other smart, capable, wonderful people walking the planet today.

The truth is that Pechanga Casino and many like it (San Manuel, Pala, Soboba, Valley View, Harrah’s etc) have no chance of losing any money, ever period.  Why? Because gambling is computerized.  All the wins and losses are already preset into the computer program and the false sense that you have actually won any money is only a matter of timing.  In other words walk up to a machine after some poor, stupid fucking stubborn asshole like me has just fed two thousand dollars into it without winning a fucking dollar, throw your twenty dollars, decrease the bet size from max bet of $6 bucks a spin to something more manageable like $1.20 and voila, all of a sudden you are an incredible gambler, on a hot streak.  Retrieve a thousand dollars of my horribly managed bankroll push cash out and be on your way and you are a winner.  Its all just a facade of course.  If you stay on that same machine and play it for 24 hours straight as I’ve done several times, I would stake my very soul on the fact that you have zero chance of being ahead at the end of that time period.  There is no fucking way.

They are computers.  They are programmed in a way that only makes you think you have a chance of winning.  And that so called “chance” of winning is only under very specific circumstances and only for a very short period of time.  Any pattern of play that deviates substantially from this is bound to end up costing the moron pushing the buttons an even more SUBSTANTIAL amount of money.  Its that simple. Long term you cannot win period.  So don’t try.  Short term you may win but hardly ever and never enough to satisfy you if you have a big negative lifetime balance against the gambling institutions of the world.  Hardly ever and never enough.  Two toxic ideas represented by those four words let me tell you.  Especially the “never enough” part.  Basically that means even if you win, no matter how much you win, you are still fucked because you will never ever walk away.  You will think you are smart and clever with your amazing money management skills but trust me the routine you are using is going to eventually break down due to some unforeseen circumstance taking place that you can’t control and you are going to get really red hot ears and a stubborn anger is going to creep its way into your way of play and you are going to go on fucking self destructive tilt mode to the point where you soon enough find yourself with a familiar sinking horrible feeling with an ever shrinking pile of cash and a sense of unease and disaster smashing those prior emotions when you thought you were the great Julius Ceasar of gambling, some sort of modern conquering hero of gambling.  Someone to be admired and patted on the back and flirted with by the desperate fake as fuck greed driven losers who hang out at the casino.  All of a sudden your celebrity, your fame, your stardom, is no longer with you.  All the admirers have left your entourage, except for maybe a couple of well meaning, commiserating bastards with bald heads and the look of vulture stamped all over their shiny little sweaty little sharp and hooded little faces.  They are actually the worst to be honest because you are so pissed off.  You are so pissed off that anything that comes out of anyone’s mouth that resembles a plea to please stop, cash out and run for the exits is something that you have no desire to even hear, and certainly you have no inclination to absorb, comprehend and act upon this advice.  Nobody, least of all yourself, is surprised when a short while later you are broke as a fucking joke and all of a sudden the though that you didn’t stop at the gas station on the way to the casino hits you.  Also those hunger pangs, that unpaid cell phone bill, the realization that you are out of whatever drug of choice you call your own, or some similar jolt back into reality lands on your head causing you bruising and maybe even a bit of bleeding and you really can’t do jack shit about it except join the throng of brain dead walking buckets of sadness and greed walking around the casino searching for money left on machines, even a penny, or waiting for some new celebrity to hit a jackpot in which case you can quickly make friends with him and ask him to be a star in his own little gambling show, verbally stroking his ever increasing sense of ego, so that when he does get paid his jackpot, if you are sly enough you can quietly make it clear to him that you are a little tight just at the moment and wow, twenty dollars would sure be appreciated and  hell, its only a tiny fraction of the 2,356 dollar jackpot he just won and since he is so swelled with the “golly gee willikers i’m some smart and greatImagegambler” syndrome, 8 times out of ten you can squeeze at least a twenty out of him. A lot of times you can get more then that.  If you are willing to invest a little more time into the effort and you are a good speaker as I tend to be, and the moron you are talking to is getting pretty fucking lucky you can get several hundred dollars over the course of a few hours.  Hopefully one of those twenty dollar bills you finnagle off of the crowd of temporary winners turns you iImagento a temporary winner again and a good portion of your bankroll is restored to you magically and boom you are off an running on yet another gambling spree.  ImageOf course this one is going to end up like all of the others, except only quicker now because by this time the meth is wearing off, in fact you can’t get any higher,Image you just want to sleep but you’re down money still of course.  Surprise surprise right?  Not. Image Fuck no its not a surprise although you are insane so you could have easily have convinced yourself that somehow or another you are not a loser and this could be the time where it all comes together for you and you are going to be both lucky enough to earnImage those thousands you so desperately need but also you are going to smart enough this time to know when to walk away when you are ahead.  Yeah.  Uh huh.  Sure you are.  You forget that you haven’t slept in three days and you find yourself nodding off to sleep like the Imageworld’s laziest heroin addict.  You find yourself sleeping in front of some stupid ass machine and its 11 a.m. on Monday morning and you’ve been at the casino since 4:30 p.m.ImageFriday afternoon and you have terrible breath and a pocketful of money but you keep falling asleep so you keep vacillating between this angry toxic obsessed crazy gambler cussing and hitting the machine hard, even bruising up your thumbs and knuckles and spitting on the machine and just being a horrible and scary and psycho idiot between periods of waking up and hearing yourself finish a snore as some fucking moron in a suit is asking you, “are you okay sir?” as if he gives a rat’s fucking ass if you are okay and as a matter of fact you are very much NOT okay at all but you don’t tell him that you just smile and Imagesay yes sir and sorry about that sir I’m just a little tired but really you are way more than tired.  You are completely drained,ImageI mean wiped out.  In every way.  Mentally, physically, spiritually, financially, emotionally.  In every fucking way.  You needImage to stop and salvage what you have left and find the strength to get off your numb fucking ass and the courage to walk away from that fucking hell hole soul stealing heart breaking, cold toxic unfeelingImage whore of a place Pechanga Casino and you need to do it five minutes ago.  But youImagecan’t drive how the fuck are you going to drive and besides you are losing now and you are so pissed off that you didn’t leave earlier when you had several chances. ImageNo you stuck around and got more and more outrageous with your bet sizing and your judgment and boom.  In no time flat you are broke broke broke broke TILT ImageTilt TILT yet again and either you jump back onto the track of finding free money or you finally give up and realize you areImage fucked and its time to get the hell underneath that fucking rock you emerged from four days Imageearlier full of quiet confidenceImage and brimming with cheer and tidings for everybody you run into.

Do you get the picture of what I am describing here people? ItsImagefucking convoluted and confusing, a total psychotic episode inducing mind fuck guaranteed to reel in the best specimens of the human race.  Its called gambling.  Specifically its called morbid or compulsive gambling. ImageMy name is Anthony Mandich and I am a gambling addict who has squandered away every portion of of my life that was worth anything andImage I’ve driven away every single person I have professed feeling of love and admiration for in the past.

And I nothing whatsoever to show for it except a battered heart and shaky sketchy depressing existence.  Living in a self created Imagecorner of hell.

Don’t get started because it will finish you in the end my friend.


However, your (sic) clearly a horrible writer.

I just did this last night. I rock. My name is Anthony Mandich

A comment from “Just for Thought”
“I feel you need to grow up. The attack was brutal and cowardly and the people who participated should be caught and punished. But the filth and venom flying out of your post is nearly as ugly as the assault. “I truly could care less what color they are” doesn’t ring true from someone who finds it so easy to use the anti-gay and anti-woman insults you’ve sprinkled on this page. Change yourself, grow up, being vulgar isn’t pretty or tough or manly.”

A comment from “Roger Bland”
“This is a daily occurrence, and it is quite frustrating.

However, your clearly a horrible writer. Your article, comments, and arguments are almost as infuriating as this video. I understand why you want to express your feelings towards this cowardly beat down, but your message is weak and only shows how feeble minded you are.

I don’t mean to insult you, but maybe try stepping back for a moment, controlling your emotions, and write something that people won’t find so annoying and immature when reading.”

Anthony Mandich Created This. If You Have $25k You Want it? It's Yours

The other comments I saw seemed to be pretty positive in response to my article on Aaron Jacob Parsons and his gang of street pirates who thought it would be cute to beat, rob, strip and humiliate some random dude wandering around in Baltimore.

Looking back through my post I will admit to using some rather disparaging remarks to describe the females visible in the video.  I used terms like “stinky ass fat whores”, “cunts”, and of course “bitches”.  In retrospect I realize that I should have taken the time to divorce myself of the angry emotions that were flooding my brain after watching the video, gather my thoughts, and come up with a better analysis.

Anthony Mandich's Original Art Depicting Marilyn Monroe in a Familiar Pose

It was also pointed out to me that I used some pretty harsh terms to derogatorily describe the perpetrators of this senseless crime.  I used terms like “faggot”, and references such as “i love to suck cock”.  I offer up no excuse for my bad behavior.

I’d like to take this opportunity to extend my sincere apologies to the homosexual community as well as the female community for my thoughtless comments.  I promise to watch what I type in the future, perhaps asking myself, “What Would Jesus Do?” if I find myself unsure about what I’m writing.

I hope this post paves the way for a reconciliation between myself and the homosexual/female communities.

I think its a shame and really sad that Jean Harlow died at age 26


Anthony J. Mandich

beware the wrath of /b/ 4chan/b/ versus @flyguyparsons

Screen shot taken from the twitter account of Aaron Jacob Parsons

Its been an interesting day in Cyberspace.  A perfect storm of sorts has come together and unleashed her fury on in the form of thousands and thousands of views of an article I wrote regarding Aaron Jacob Fosters yesterday.  As of 7:01 p.m. tonight I have had 6,938 people from 11 countries visit my website and read what I wrote. There 3,583 clicks of links that I provided that contain more information/corroboration of the crimes that are proven alleged by what I have written, all of which originated on the /b/ forum on  I want to take this opportunity to give props to the guys and girls who reside at /b/.  They might be a little warped but collectively they hold a great deal of power in their fingertips.  It was awesome to be a witness to this power as it unfolded.  Awesome as in I was awestruck and still am.  Certainly it is not a good idea to get on the bad side of a group that has this kind of power at its disposal.  Even worse to do it when they are bored and frothing at the bit for something to do.

It seems a bit of a foregone conclusion that the consequences are going to be severe and swift for the individuals responsible for the degrading beat down and robbery of the still unnamed victim in this case.  I feel absolutely no sympathy for the perpetrators.  I don’t give a shit what they have to say about it or what their excuse is or if they even remember what they were doing because of intoxication levels , temporary amnesia etc.  I really hope that prison is the end result for Aaron Jacob Parsons and everyone else involved, especially that annoying drunk bitch wearing her black panties parading around the street like she was some glamour queen.  Fuck her.  (man she STILL pisses me off)

The haters calling me racist can all suck it to be honest.  I am not even going to bother addressing that accusation.  It’s not true and my life and anything I’ve ever written in the past will attest to that FACT.  So, hate on haters.

I got a call from a reporter named Justin from the Baltimore Sun.  We talked for quite a few minutes about the origin of this situation, 4chan’s /b/ forum and more.  His view, stated to me anyhow, was that this is an instance of the internet being used for good and he was quick to show his admiration for the detective work done by the /b/ forum lurkers.  I agree wholeheartedly with this sentiment.  Choosing to fight against the “forces that /b/ is the ultimate example of the idiot who brings a knife to a gun fight”.

Have a good night everyone……Anthony Mandich

ImageADDENDUM: I replied to an email from the reporter I mentioned.  Here is what I had to say.  And I quote:

hey justin it was good talking to you.  i’m sending you this stuff before i even blog it so i must think you’re cool.  just don’t get me killed lol.

here is a quote from me if you want
“aaron jacob parsons is a wanted man”….post after post on /b/ repeated those words. it was late i was annoyed.  the arrogance shown by @flyguyparsons and @CASHton-Kutcher by posting the video of themselves proudly separating a man from his dignity really angered me.  they acted like it was so funny and so cool.
to beat down a guy like that, seemingly with impunity when: 
(A) he didn’t deserve it  and 
(B) couldn’t do anything about it but bleed and sit there bewildered, humiliated and alone and 
(C) further add to his pain by taking everything of value in his possession, stripping him naked, and letting some ugly drunk annoying bitch slap him open palmed across his face while he’s on his back  just didn’t sit well with me.
and the poor guy took it like a champ.  he didn’t defend himself (which was probably smart in this instance because this was a bear that you had to play dead against for sure.  so yeah he didn’t defend himself but he also didn’t bring further dishonor to himself by crying, pissing or moaning.  
two things resonated strongly with me.
1. the images of parsons mugging for the camera before the humiliation began and then creeping up and start digging through the guys pockets like it was a big joke.  i really hated that.
2.  that ugly chick wearing her panties with her big old ass all drunk grinding on the guy before it all started and then when he was down on his back she’s there standing behind his head and starts slapping in his face HARD and he can’t even see where these blows are coming from because she is standing behind his head.  that was particularly cowardly and thinking about it right now gets my blood boiling.  
you asked me what was different about this video as opposed to the many other millions of videos that are out there on the internet.  I am going to answer that with a post i did on some girls from a sorority at bowling green who were tragically killed in a car accident a few weeks ago.  my answer is obvious.

Sociopath School Shooter Salad:

Sociopath School Shooter Salad:

First you take deviant teenagers with hormonal imbalances and an inflated sense of self importance that borders on narcissism.

Toss in their desperate need to seek out attention whether it be positive or negative, a warped sense of unjustified entitlement in a world that refuses to go along for the ride.

Mix with a pathetic built in excuse from their upbringing (sexual abuse, bullying, lack of affection, poverty…whatever).

Sprinkle example (Columbine) after example (Virginia Tech) after example (University of Texas) after example (Westside Middle School) of those that have paved the deranged way for these impulsive little sociopaths.

The little bastards probably beat off to pictures of Dylan Klebold dressed in black with a pool of blood surrounding his ugly head while Pearl Jam’s “Jeremy” plays over and over ad infinitum.

The focus of the media and all of her sycophantic followers (of which group I freely admit belonging to) is on the sensational and shocking thrill killing of the day week month etc.  The antihero perpetrators of these terrible deeds are made immediately infamous.

Remember that need for attention I pointed out above?  Infamy is attention.  There is a gratifying payoff in the form of the surrounding hoopla and intense, (albeit temporary)  microscopic scrutiny to which we subject these doomed children of a lost generation to after they commit these senseless crimes, and it is apparently a sufficient trade off for their lives.

The bright light is focused on these losers in an effort to answer the unanswerable question (WHAT COULD WE HAVE DONE TO PREVENT THIS?)

Sad that in this day and age, 15 minutes of infamy is more then enough to provide these former nobodies all the evidence they need to believe that they have made their mark and will go down in history.

Apparently no one these days sees the forest through the trees.  The outlook for mankind as a whole is not the brightest in my opinion.

Is anyone else sick to death of this shit?  There is no end in sight.  Its really all a bit of a self fulfilling prophecy if you ask me.  Kind of a psycho salad.


Someone literally took a shit on the floor in the High Limit bathroom at San Manuel Casino.

Quite a catchy title.  

Completely true title.  I walked into the aforementioned bathroom Saturday night during UFC 139  and was immediately hit with the stench of rotten beer, beans, cabbage, dirt and moldy velveeta.  In such a confined space, with no windows, and the smell of  Shit with a capital S pervading my nostrils, I had no choice but to piss on the floor in a form of silent protest.  It’s one thing to take my money and not give a rat’s ass about it.  

Subjecting me to the smell of a deranged gambler’s ass after he has gone day after day with nothing but a steady diet of Bud Light, cow shit and San Manuel’s special chili cheesedick dogs is a whore of a whole nother color.  I was not surprised to see an actual shit log sitting about 7 inches to the left of the toilet bowl after I caught wind of the stench that preceded it let me tell you.  That was nasty as hell.  I’ve been noticing all kinds of nasty little things angry gamblers do to reap small helpings of revenge from San Manuel Casino.  Especially San Manuel Casino.  

Many times I’ve seen the toilet itself along with the toilet paper the walls and floor but not the bowl become the resting place for gallon after gallon of drunk angry stinky yellow urine.  A week ago, someone had a bloody something in the same high limit bathroom and must have just stood there bleeding for thirty minutes or so it seemed based on the 2 foot wide puddle of blood I encountered when I walked in to have a moment of respite from the demoralizing, continuously degrading losing streak  that San Manuel has me blindly staggering my way through.  Many times I’ve seen people, mostly guys, intentionally miss the ash tray side of the trash cans.  Instead they opt to throw the lit cigarette inside the trash can hoping it will start a small, smoky fire.

The spittle drenched stogies these derelicto extremus types suck down often find their way, still lit, to the horse hair carpet that covers much of the gulag style  interior of  San Manuel’s Great Hall of Gambling downstairs.  Those times which come quite often on weekends, are a treat for the senses, and a bit of good fun I definitely have partaken in myself.  I’ve seen many examples of drinks such as cranberry juice, ash laden orange juice and beer flavored coffee being deftly and secretly poured into the silver tray under most slot machines or into the slot machine itself, on the rug, into the sand that is supposed to extinguish the cigarettes and pretty much everywhere but in peoples fat camel toed bellies or the trash can.  

Razor blades smuggled in via wives visiting their gambler convict husbands account for many shredded kevlar covered chairs at San Manuel and it does my heart good to see signs of overt and malicious damage like that.  Those chairs are nearly impossible to slice through (or so I’ve been told ha ha ha) and you really have to appreciate the effort that it takes to covertly damage them without being witnessed by the utterly useless, fat ass, piece of shit, rent a cop donkey assholes, otherwise known as Public Safety Officers that patrol the highways and byways of their domain, vigilantly searching for scofflaws and sleeping gamblers.  

Its fun to fuck with the fat ass guards there let me tell you.  I especially love it when they ask you to show them i.d. and you tell them to fuck off and you walk away and out of the casino and they can’t do a single fucking thing about it except mutter incomprehensible threats about how they better not see you again in the next 24 hours or “they” will arrest you.  That’s a laugh you think to yourself as you continue to walk completely untouched out to your car and drive away.  “if they could have arrested me they would have arrested me but since they are rent a cop, police academy rejects,  all bark and absolutely no bite for anyone with a clue about the 4th amendment, they can’t arrest me now or ever”.  

The foregoing rant is not meant in any way to  convey that the losers like myself who frequent shit hole money burning places like San Manuel and lose their cool to the point of vandalizing the place, are causing the casino anything but a very slight annoyance, and in fact are doing more to harm themselves then to actually hurt the casino in any way.  San Manuel always wins.  But still, Fuck San Manuel, may they roast in hell!!!

Here are some very honest reviews of San Manuel Casino for you to enjoy:

here is a picture of an ass i want to eat for days.  i bring it to you in order to break up a little of the vile trash truth that is unfortunately, san manuel casino, the worst casino in the entire world.

Here’s a very nice review of San Manuel Casino’s accomodations:

How about a little love for San Manuel’s Ampitheatre, the happiest place on earth?

This is a really scintillating review of San Manuel Casino:

What I’m really getting at here people is you should stay the fuck away from San Manuel.  All of their games suck bad.  They steal your money.  Straight up.  Its not slander, its purely fact.  Their slot machines are fucking tighter than a gnat’s ass, the waitresses are sea hags from hell, the security guards are fucking neanderthals, the place stinks, the parking structure is like a maze to get out of, the drink service is so abysmal, you might as well stay at home.  If you do go there though, be sure to remember that you have rights and tell them all to suck it hard.



I was never that into you anyway.  That’s what I tell myself on rainy days in November when you pop into my mind for a fleeting second or two.  

Your money or your life.  Your money and your life.  Your money is your life.  You have no life.  You have no money.  

Gordon Klerks,  Marie Doe, Heather Batchelder, Heather McGovern, J**y R***a…..five people who helped me out today in important ways.  

UFC 139…witnessed inside the buffet hall at San Manuel Casino…was a bargain at only $1,000 USD. Let me say this…anyone betting on Cung Le to defeat Wanderlai Silva was a fool.  I had a deep sense going into that fight that Cung Le, with all of his magnificent striking ability, was going to have his hands full with the intensity of the Silva’s onslaught.  I was correct.  The Muay Thai Clinch that led to Silva’s knee repeatedly smashing Le’s nose was painful to witness even via DirectTV.  I remember a different Silva inflicting the same kind of punishment on Rich Franklin, whose nose ended up pretty much the same way.  

You know, actually, looking back at Rich Franklin’s nose now it doesn’t seem half as bad as it did back then and really nowhere as bad as Cung Le’s smashed piece of crap that used to be a nose looked after he got done getting raped by Wanderlai Silva last night.   Does it really matter though?  I mean really,  I would be literally killed were I to step into the ring with any of those guys so please Mr. Le and Mr. Franklin, believe me I’m only speaking relatively when I’m saying you guys got your asses beat.  You are both still bad ass mother fuckers for sure okay.


Today has been an exercise in patience along with the sheer overwhelming feeling that comes along with self imposed abject poverty due to morbid compulsive gambling, anger management issues, sleep deprivation, forced humility, squandered opportunities and deep regret regarding self control issues and poor decision making.  

 This picture has nothing to do with San Manuel.  But it should:  

This takes the cake.

Well there is this site called People You Will See in Hell that I have visited several times. I was reading the article called Brian and Shannon Gore

Show them the mercy they showed their own children

tonight.  I tried to respond to the author of the article but for some reason the site’s commenting/contact us section is closed.  Therefore, until I can send my response to them, I am going to publish it here to ensure it doesn’t get forgotten.  You can read the story for yourself.  Here is the link:

I just got done writing them a letter because I was so sad and mad after reading the story that I felt compelled to write to them.  Here is my letter:

Dear Max the Cat at,

Regarding:  Brian and Shannon Gore

You know, I’ve also been reading the horror stories on this site for about a year.  Every time I come on to this site, I eventually find a story that leaves me feeling horrified and heartsick.  I don’t know why I continue to subject myself to it actually.  The stories are well written for the most part; although they do go beyond a simple reporting of the facts.  They are written in a way that elicits an emotional response from the reader.  Invariably the emotional response is pure sad sympathy for the victim; especially children, combined with a strong feeling of revulsion, anger and hatred directed at the monster responsible.   I have done my own mini-investigations into several stories to verify that such unspeakable and unbelievable atrocities had indeed been committed.  You see, some of the stories defy belief.  It just seems inconceivable and not possible for some of these things to have actually taken place and yet each and every story is supported in some way by my searches of prison inmates, newspapers etc.


Brian and Shannon Gore make me feel ashamed to be a part of the human race.  They really do.  Words can’t even begin to describe how much I actually hate them, just from reading what you wrote in this short story.  Needless to say I hope that they rot and suffer for what they did to that little innocent six year old child.  What more can I say?  They are stupid, ignorant, selfish, evil scum and that is the bottom line.


I’ll close by saying this.  I really don’t like this web site.  I hate the fact that this type of shit goes on in the world.  I worry about my own soul and the souls of the world if people have no problem committing acts like this.  In particular this case is so heinous because its not an isolated incident.  This is a protracted case of torture and human suffering and the victim is just a little kid.  She was eating her own skin?  Are you fucking kidding me? I mean really now.  So, Brian and Shannon had no problem sitting around eating pizza, watching tv, living their lives in other words while their flesh and blood daughter is sitting in a cage, encrusted in her own waste and fucking eating her own skin?  Hell….immediately.  That is my judgment on these two.  They actually make me angry.

This site has chronicled some of the most depraved, twisted and stupidly evil atrocities that exist in this modern world.  For me, right now, this story tops the charts.


I guess I feel it is my duty to read these stories, if only for the fact that the poor victim in each and every story gets a bit of psychic comfort because someone on the planet is thinking about them and feeling their pain.


I’m just going to have to start spacing the visits out a little longer though, because my night is ruined after that one.


Nice job writing this up.  Thanks, even though it gave me the heaviest of hearts.


Anthony Mandich

California, USA