[56 of 100] It’s Not Gambling. It’s Investing.

Ronan Takagi
100 Naked Words
Published in
2 min readApr 17, 2017

Every so often I get the hankering to throw some money down the toilet. Sometimes the hankering is only satisfied by a trip to Las Vegas where I’ll spend a weekend throwing $100 into penny slots while drinking myself into oblivion. Other times the hankering is less demanding and content with a trip to the local race track.

Now, before you get too judgmental and call me a degenerate gambler, I should say there are varying degrees of degeneration at the racetrack. At the figurative and literal bottom are the race fiends who go everyday and hang out in the dingy bowels of the track. They gamble away money they can’t afford to lose and scan the floor on the off chance someone dropped a winning ticket. At the top of the racetrack of are the gentiles who dress up in floppy hats and drink champagne in chandeliered ballrooms. They eat caviar while casually wagering upwards of $100,000 on horses they actually own. I live somewhere in the middle. I get dressed up and have a beer or two at the outdoor restaurant then wager upwards of twenty dollars on horses I don’t own. Actually, I shouldn’t even be saying “wager” since that implies betting on horse racing is gambling.

The last time I was at the track, the announcer kindly reminded us about the daily Pick 6 (if you pick the winner in six consecutive races, you win a lot of money) then told us to hurry up and “invest.” I liked the euphemism since it made it sound like horse racing wasn’t gambling and was more akin to putting money into a 401(k) instead of a slot machine. Swayed by the authoritative cadence of the announcer’s voice (and his British accent), I invested a dollar.

Unfortunately, the the Pick 6 was a much more volatile investment than a series of indexed mutual funds in a 401(k). I didn’t even make it to the second race, having failed to choose the winner in the first race. There went a dollar down the toilet followed by several more shortly thereafter. My “investments” that afternoon totaled twelve dollars, and none of them panned out. Not even the horse in Race 5 with the really cool name. Something along the lines of Wizard’s Fury.

I was twelve dollars poorer, but it wasn’t a total loss. My hankering for throwing money down the toilet had been satisfied, and I walked away with the same helpful realization about gambling that I always have when satisfying my hankering.

It’s a terrible investment.

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