Come from a long line of count domino players. My great Gramps has dominoes and guys sitting around a table shaking bones on his tombstone. Many a family get together was spent rattling bones and talking schiet. Great uncles were master cheaters, they got more pleasure out of getting away with cheating than they did from winning.
And just for Slumlord.
When I was a kid my Gramps had a little trailer mud house he’d bought and had set in his back yard for a domino shack. Had a wood burning stove in the corner and one lightbulb on a string hanging above the table, no windows. I’d go out to watch the guys play in there and the smoke from cigars, cigarettes, and the stove would be thick as pea soup and hanging about 6” above the table. Gramps would open the door on the woodburner and toss in a chunk of pallet or whatever scrap lumber followed by a long strip cut off of an old inner tube with his jackknife. Stack on that little stove looked like a freighter pulling a grade with that black smoke rolling out of it.
