“We’re rich motherfucking niggers.”

The night after the bomb went off in Harvey’s Hotel and Casino, which was front-page news in the London Times, we in Security at Harrah’s Hotel and Casino, across the street, were taking NO SHIT from ANYBODY.  At 12:30 A.M., 30 minutes before the end of our shift, another security officer and I were in the security office, when we heard, over the public address system, “Double X to the Cabaret, Double X to the Cabaret.”  Double X meant big-time shit going down.  We looked at each other, then rushed out of the office, racing to get to the Cabaret, to engage in some ass-whooping.  As we arrived at the entrance to the Cabaret, we saw one of the Cabaret hosts pointing down the Cabaret BAR, where the beef was really happening.  We stopped and observed Ted Koorganoff, a Russian born in China, and one security officer, among many, who enjoyed kicking ass, talking to a black gentleman.  As there wasn’t any fight, as yet, we just stood there.  We didn’t have to wait more than 2 seconds, for the coon to sucker-punch Ted in the mouth, which later required four stitches at Barton Memorial Malpractice Hospital.  We rushed to where the action was, the other security officer jumping on the nig, along with 5 other security officers.  As I had already been in scrums like that, and one more of us wouldn’t have made any difference, I stood calmly, one foot away from the melee, getting my handcuffs ready to snap on the spade.  The moment I saw a black arm appear, I threw a cuff on it.  He immediately stopped resisting and dropped to the floor.  I jumped on his back and cuffed the other hand.  Ted frog-marched the asshole to the security office, performing his ritual of pulling the hair out of the motherfucker’s head and throwing it on the floor of the casino.  The first time I saw him do this, was to a 19 year old, blonde, surfer dude, who had also sucker-punched him, who was BALD when he went to jail.  It was Ted’s ‘signature move.’  He improvised a bit on this guy, by bleeding all over the back of his shirt.  When we got to the office, Ted threw him on the floor, where he remained, on his belly, for the rest of the party.

Meanwhile, Loretta, our only female security officer, had been bracing nigra #2 all the way across the casino.  She was backed up by 3 or 4 other security officers.  He took umbrage at our treatment of his bro.  Loretta, the 2nd coon, and the other security officers, were just outside the office, with about ten of us inside the office with the first one.  I began going through the 1st coon’s wallet, which he lost in the scrum, to get his I.D.  A big commotion began outside, and everyone except me and another security officer, stampeded out the door.  I sat down at a desk, got out a yellow legal pad, and began writing down the spook’s name and address.  I heard people bouncing off the walls, outside, and looked to see if the door to the inner office was open, which it was.  I said, “Let’s drag this fucker into Art’s office.”  He smiled and made punching motions with one hand into his other hand.  I said, “No, no no, don’t you hear what’s happening outside?  I think we’re going to have another customer, real soon.”  He listened, got my drift, and we reached down to grab him, when the door flew open and #2 came in flying, like Superman, only with his hands cuffed behind his back.  He was horizontal, head-first, about 4 feet above the floor.  We both jerked back, and #2 landed on top of #1, ending up back-to-back, head-to-feet.  Both of the fucks immediately started screaming, “Honky motherfucker” at us.  Everyone else crowded into the office, where there was standing-room only.  About a minute later, our supervisor, Roland Thiessen, who was in the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s, opened the door and walked in.  He had been in the parking lot, checking out a fender-bender, and knew NOTHING of what had transpired.  He spotted #1, right in front of him, and place-kicked his head with one of his size 14 wing-tips, damned near knocking the guy out.  He said, “Oh, I’m SO sorry, to have accidentally stepped on your face,”  Then he spotted #2, straddled the pile of bodies on the floor, and gave #2 a vicious punch, to his face, while exclaiming, “You fucking asshole.”  That was the beginning of the PAR-TAY.  For the next 30 minutes, the two niggers screamed, “Honky motherfucker” at us, while we made fun of them, and Ted bled all over the office.  His blood was on the floor, the desks, the walls, everywhere.  Right after Roland had punched #2, he was standing right next to me.  He turned to me and said, “Are you involved in this mess?”  I said, “My cuffs are on that one,” indicating the one he had kicked.  He said, “Write a report.”  Someone was sitting at the desk, but I reached for the legal pad that already had the guy’s name written on it.  I picked it up and saw that there were two huge spots of Ted’s blood on the pad.  I went, “Eeyoo,” and tossed it back on the desk.  Roland turned and said, “What’s the matter?”  Me:  “It’s got blood all over it.”  Roland:  “Use that one, use the one with the blood on it.  I WANT THAT REPORT WRITTEN IN BLOOD.”  Me:  “You got it, Roland,” and I wrote the report in blood.  Meanwhile, the two spooks were going on how it was IMPOSSIBLE that we were going to put them in jail, because they were “rich motherfucking niggers.”  They thought that being “rich motherfucking niggers” gave them a get-out-of-jail-free card.

I talked to two people who were present, the next day, when the Security Manager watched the videotape.  Art put his face in both hands, and kept repeating, “What a bloodbath.”

I couldn’t believe how lucky I was, to get paid (at a ridiculously low wage) to do this job.


7 thoughts on ““We’re rich motherfucking niggers.”

  1. By the way, the beef started when both of the assholes were sexually molesting white wimmens at the bar, feeling them up, etc, and when a bartender asked them to stop, one of them took a swing at the bartender. Just another example of TNB.

      1. Speaking of TNB, the LAPD had, since they got radios in their cars, a special “code.” They had your usual “Code 4,” a “Code 4-Adam,” which meant that one or more suspects were in custody, and “Code 4-TNA,” which stood for Typical Nigger Activity. Even the melanated cops used that code. When the ACLU found out about this, in the 1970s, their hearts went all aflutter, and the sobriquet became extinct.

  2. “Typical Nigger Activity”

    And here I thought, that words like TNB was something new!
    There have been some similar cases over here, too. That is one of the reasons to why, they are so busy recruiting colored people into the police, military and so on.

    1. Casino security, in most Nevada casinos, have code words they use, on their walkie-talkies, so that if someone overhears them, they won’t know what we’re talking about. At Harrah’s, we had NFO, which meant Nigger From Oakland, to describe any black person. A UFO was an Ugly Fucking Oriental. The Sahara had NIN, which didn’t mean Nine Inch Nails, it stood for Nigger In Nevada. Some security departments claimed they didn’t have any such code words, but I think they were lying.

  3. @vikinglifeblog The absolute worst assholes that my shift, in general, and myself, in particular, had to deal with, on a continuing basis, was a white-trash couple who came in every fucking night, for about three months, and “seagulled” the whole casino. Seagulling is looking for money on the floor and in slot trays. These two cunts (one was a male) were so brazen, they would crawl under a 21 table, while people were sitting there, playing Blackjack, looking for chips. We’d thrown the assholes out dozens of times, but they’d be back the next day. One night, I came close to beating the motherfucking male to death, and we never saw them again.

    I was standing just inside the far northern end of Pit 5, when I saw another security officer pulling a large metal cart, on wheels, past the pit. It was full of empty drop-boxes, which are exchanged for the ones on the tables, that are full of money. The cart is about 6 feet tall, 10 feet long and, most important at that point in time, 4 feet wide (deep). The distance between the customers, sitting at the tables, and the outer walls of two restrooms, behind them, was only 6 feet, leaving just a foot on each side, for clearance. I saw the scrungy-looking mo-fo, on the far side of the cart, pushing the cart towards the pit. He was walking along, trying to push the cart into the people who were sitting there gambling. The SO pulling the cart didn’t know the asshole was pushing it to the side. I left the pit and prepared to have some words with the SOB. I walked behind the cart, as it was moving. The fuck was giving it one last push, with his hand at face level, when the clumsy motherfucker’s hand slipped off the back of the moving cart, and slapped me in the face. I closed my eyes when I saw his hand coming, but his fingers pushed against my closed eye-lids and pushed both of my old-style hard contact lenses up on top of my eyeballs. I went fucking nuts. The asshole could have ripped both of my fucking corneas out of my head. I grabbed the front of his clothes, with one hand, and slammed his ass into the sharp edge of a steel door frame, going nose-to-nose with him. He kept repeating, over and over, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” while I stared him in the face and screamed, “You fucking asshole” at him. I knew that, if I started kicking his ass, which I had every right to do, I probably wouldn’t stop until I had killed him. Finally, I said, “Get the fuck out of here,” and he ran to the nearest exit, and I never saw him or his skanky girlfriend ever again.

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