Dear Trump Taj Mahal Poker Room

(This is a special guest post from my friend C-Gar)

I have a fair amount of experience playing in card rooms and home games from New Jersey to Nevada. In the course of pursuing this hobby, I've met some of society's shadiest, irritating and untrustworthy characters, and like in any other group, there are also undesirables. But your players stand above all others as shining examples of what would happen if feral sewer ferrets became humanity's overlords.

From the shiftless derelicts who haven't bathed since the Clinton administration, to those who's devotion to the game of poker has caused them to forgo bathroom breaks and micturate upon themselves, you disgust me. For those who can master hygiene, attire tends to present another challenge. While everyone enjoys a snappily dressed pimp, at some point leopard print and fuchsia becomes a fashion faux pas. And we can all agree that if your chest hair is best styled by lawn equipment, a shirt open to the waist is not the best wardrobe choice.

I would not fault management if this clientele was present all over America's Playground, but they are attracted to the fake minarets of the Taj Mahal like hobos to a pie convention. After years of this, the standards of behavior in the room has started to suffer. Drunken arguments abound, and chairs are tossed like they are blasphemous idols incurring Moses's wrath. Periodically games have to be postponed on account of "noodle vomit" on the table.

To be fair, in recent years management has cleaned up the den of whores that formerly resided just outside of the poker room, but late at night, one can occasionally see a nude couple copulating next to a hot dog stand on the boardwalk. However, even this expression of love and beauty is soiled by your influence as more often than not the act terminates with a naked John running down the boardwalk in an ill-fated attempt to outrun herpes.

Please address these concerns, clean all of your poker chips to remove the Legionella, Gonorrhea and Syphilis that is swarming all over them, and please evict the colony of wild cats living in the men's room.

Regards,
Karl "C-Gar" Spackler