Problem with poker gambling raid is hypocrisy of it all

My wife's bridge group, eight ladies of a certain age, met at our house the other week. They play for (gasp!) money. Each puts 50 cents in the pot and when play for the day is over the one scoring the most points takes home a cool $2.50. The runner-up gets the rest as a consolation prize.

"You realize, of course, you're breaking the law," I said. "Didn't you read in the paper about all those poker players arrested by the sheriff? Some might wind up in the slammer. And the thousands of dollars confiscated — it could well trigger an investigation by the feds. Gambling winnings are taxable, you know."

She Who Must Be Obeyed gave a little snort.

"What would the neighbors think if a half-dozen or so deputies, all dressed in black and wearing ski masks, break down our door and carry you and your kicking and screaming friends off to the pokey?" I asked.

SWMBO snorted again. "Just let them try," she said. "We're not defenseless, you know. We can take care of ourselves."

"Yeah? And how do you propose to do that? Call out the troops and stage a pie-plate banging demonstration at the State House? Burn your bras at the Corner of Four Laws?"

"Never you mind," she said. "It's all taken care of."

I thought about the pepper spray she bought last month. But no, she'd never ... her sweet little old lady friends would never do that.

"Now off with you. Go play your little game of golf like you do every Thursday. How much do you put in the pot for the blitz, incidentally? Ten dollars, isn't it?"

"Yes," I said. "But that's not illegal. Golf is an athletic game of great skill …"

"Ha!" she said. "Not the way I remember you playing it."

"South Carolina law only covers games of chance, morally corrupting games played with cards or dice."

"And I suppose they don't consider the so-called Education Lottery a corrupting game of chance?"

"No," I said. "The lottery is actually a tax. Well, all right, it's a tax on stupidity. But that's OK because the state makes a lot of money on it. And God knows the state needs a lot of money this year. Have you seen what the deficit is?"

"No," she said. "I only look at what they spend, and they're spending like money grows on trees. Well, off you go or you'll be late. Say hello to your 'athletic' buddies for me," she said. "Don't worry about us."

But I did worry about them — breaking the law the way they did. Sure, it's a dumb law, a law that's rarely enforced. Why, I wondered, had my friend Sheriff Al Cannon decided to stir up such a hornets nest over friendly games of poker? He's not dumb. What's his plan? Maybe he thinks doing what he did will get our legislators off their duff. Maybe he thinks they'll clean up a penal code mired in 19th century "morality." Yes. Maybe that's it.

Fat chance. The problem with this whole gambling thing is hypocrisy. People can put up with dumb politicians, even mildly criminal ones.

But one thing they can't stomach is hypocrisy. Think of politicians who campaign on promises to get drunks off the highway and then get busted themselves. Think of all those bright young men and women we elect to the Legislature or to Congress to clean up the messes they find there. Think how many of them come home, worn out and old, with a solid record of making things even worse than they found them.

Think of former Gov. Spitzer of New York who built a career prosecuting Wall Street biggies for crimes of moral turpitude and then got caught up in his own web of deceit with a four-thousand-dollar-a-night hooker. Hell, let's go all the way to the top. Think of President George W. Bush. For seven long years he never vetoed a single pork-laden spending bill passed by a Congress controlled by his own party.

Then, when the Democrats took over and began sending their own pork-laden bills to his desk for signature, he suddenly discovers that old time Republican religion of fiscal austerity and prudence, dusts off his veto pen and acts as he should have acted all along, making like the stalwart guardian of the public purse he was elected to be. Oh, the hypocrisy, the hypocrisy!

When I got home from my game of golf (I put in $10 and got back $6), the ladies of a certain age were gone. They had dodged another bullet. They had not been busted by the fuz.

"How were your cards?" I asked my beloved SWMBO.

"Terrible," she said. "And it's all your fault."

"My fault? Why is it my fault?"

"I couldn't concentrate," she said. "Every time a car drove by I had to go make sure it wasn't a blue-lighter."

"Well, from now on, until the current crack-down on illegal gambling ends, just think of it as being all in the game."

"Hmmph," she said. "I think it's time for my drink."

R.L. Schreadley is a former Post and Courier executive editor. He plays an occasional game of gin rummy.