2008
Phillip Morris
Plain Dealer Columnist
I hope it fails miserably.
I will do my part to make sure Keno, the state’s latest lottery offering, is a royal bust.
And I’m a committed gambler.
But I’m sick of the state spinning lemons and calling them royal flushes. I’m sick of the state pretending to cater to my gambling appetites while working hard to keep private enterprise from giving me what I really want.
I’m tired of Ohio spoon-feeding me games of chance, marketed with slogans like “chances are you’ll have fun,” when the truth is most of these games are awful and considerably less fun than a traveling carnival.
What it really comes down to is that I’m tired of the state of Ohio being my numbers man. I’m tired of Ohio’s monopoly on gambling and its shameless huckstering of its games as the golden goose for public education.
Ted Strickland may have been a heck of a country preacher and world-class prison shrink before becoming governor. But as a pit manager, he stinks.
So do his games.
What really steams me about Keno, Strickland’s latest gambling offering, is the fact that it’s about as close to casino gambling as you can get without calling it casino gambling. Keno is “casino lite.”
Except Strickland and his pit boss, Lottery Director Michael Dolan, don’t call it that. Strickland opposes casino gambling. So he has to pretend that Keno is not a casino game.
Dolan once described Keno, which has a drawing every four minutes, as similar to an arcade game, a game of skill: Man versus machine.
But walk into any of Ohio’s 700 or so smoke-free bars and restaurants that started offering Keno Monday (many out of desperation) and tell me that those bright flat-screen monitors plastered to the walls don’t look like casino terminals.
In fact, tell me they don’t look just like some of the flat-screen Keno terminals found in the casinos in the states that ring Ohio.
With Keno, Ohio has dipped its big toe into the casino market. We just won’t call it that. While surrounding states have embraced casino gambling and hungrily look to Ohio’s betting tourists to fill their coffers, we continue to piously putter along, pretending that the state - and the Catholic Church - will fulfill all of our gambling needs.
With Keno, the farce has reached ridiculous proportions.
Ohio voters probably will see a casino proposal on the ballot this November, the fourth since 1990. The other three failed.
If this referendum passes, tiny Clinton County in southwest Ohio will get a $600 million casino. It will share its revenue with each of the other 87 counties.
More importantly, the casino would create 5,000 full-time jobs in a region that has struggled with significant job loss and business defection.
The move would be good for Ohio’s struggling economy. It would keep gamblers at home.
But don’t look for Strickland, Ohio’s Keno chief, to back the casino and the prospective jobs. He’s too busy protecting his own numbers racket.






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