Drawing Chimp Machine by Phil Cummings

Chimp Machine

I walked through the rows of slot machines with their whirling hieroglyphic wheels, the I Ching that foretold a fate of reduced circumstances to the chimpanzee-intelligences that felt compelled to pay to keep those magic prayer wheels spinning. What were these people praying for so intently, or were they trying to become completely blank and paying for the privilege. The bells rang, the lights flashed, bored cocktail waitresses dressed as Roman slave girls walked by with trays holding drinks. The whole scene was a trip stuffed with herds of badly-dressed tourists trying to suck in the fake aura of fun.