Simmer down you pestilent little nosebleeds, and you might learn something.

Today’s lesson concerns the most fundamental principle of practical mathematics, Probability. The likelihood of an outcome occurring. A subject many of you have avoided because it demands logic and the uncomfortable acceptance of truth. Numbers, after all, do not lie.

Entire industries are built upon probability, and countless ignoramuses have squandered fortunes chasing windfalls they believed were guaranteed. As long as there are fools willing to gamble money away, others will be eager to deal them in.

One hears the phrase “the house always wins” bandied about by those desperate to sound informed, by gamblers who don’t understand numbers and ignoramuses who mistake poor planning for bad luck. They throw chips on the table, place reckless bets, and more often than not… they lose.

The house doesn’t win because it’s lucky. It wins because it understands probability. It knows the margins. It knows the risks. Most importantly, it knows that emotion always skews the odds. The house is designed to win, relying on morons who don’t understand the numbers to keep it profitable.

Carefully weighted probability keeps you feeling just lucky enough to continue betting. One hand away. One spin away. However, the game is engineered for you to lose.

Life is much the same for simpletons who insist on betting on bad cards.

Darkwish has been playing the hand he’s been dealt in life, a harsh one certainly. Yet rather than hedge his bets or adjust to the numbers, he’s gone all in every time, regardless of the odds.

The result? A trail of scorched chances and heavy losses. A jailbird with a bleak future. A bad egg released back onto the street, burned and angry, clutching a pocket of chips and convinced this time will be different.

Halfwits like you, Darkwish, chase miracles. You rely on instinct, momentum, hope. Hope is not a strategy, it’s bait. The house loves bait like you.

Which brings us to Mister Moretti. He understands the basics of probability. He plays the margins. He applies necessary pressure. He stacks the deck, convincing himself he is the house. More often than not, the House of Moretti wins more than its share.

Just ask the two buffoons I interrupted at his table. There’s a reason he didn’t deal me in. He’s not as foolish as he looks.

But even the house is beaten with sound strategy. By understanding odds, it becomes purely mathematical. Every card drawn alters probability, in favour of the house or against it.

All it takes is awareness. Knowing what remains to be drawn. Betting small on poor odds, and large when the numbers turn.

I observe patterns.

I wait. And when the variables align, I apply pressure until the outcome becomes inevitable.

Every reckless decision and mistake compounds. You call it bad luck when you fall. I call it … predictable.

So remember this lesson. The house doesn’t always win, only against those too ignorant to learn the odds. At Slam, when the chips fall, you two scamps won’t be unlucky.

You’ll simply be… incorrect.