Games of Chance
22.02.12
Atlantic City probably belongs on the list of America’s most desolate places. It huddles on the coast, an expanse of run-down two-story houses, tattoo parlors, cash-for-gold shops, vacant lots, and discount stores, below the towering palace-like casino-hotels desperately trying to convey an image of glamour in the midst of shabbiness.
The “gaming industry,” as it now likes to be called, doesn’t worry too much about exteriors. The outside of the casinos are meant to be seen from a distance, as mirages of sophisticated splendor. At street level, they are utilitarian and ugly, except for the entrances which are shiny glass and brass studies in visual vulgarity. Inside, the buildings are designed to whirl the visitor though pathless mazes of slot machines and to dazzle with flashing lights and fruity electronic noise.
There is perhaps a metaphor here for contemporary higher education, but I’ll let that go.
I have found myself at casinos several times in recent years, either because convention organizers thought the venue would be a lure or because a well-meaning host insisted I see how this or that tribe of Native Americans had found a way to cash in on their legal privileges. The experience always leaves me feeling a little unclean; sad at the display of deadening folly; and angry at the politicians who promote this sort of thing.
Source: Chronicle of Higher Education (subscription) (blog)
