Dinosaurs had it first. Then came cowboys. Eventually somebody discovered zoning.

The Riff

I took this picture yesterday.

It’s a rock.

Granted, it’s a very nice rock.

One of those giant slabs of Arizona sandstone that looks like somebody started stacking pancakes several million years ago and then got distracted by the clouds.

But mostly:

Rock.

And standing there looking at it, I started wondering what that rock has seen. Because that thing has been sitting there for a while. Not “the Starbucks has been here since 1997” a while.

A while.

Long enough that at some point there was probably a dinosaur standing next to it.

Another dinosaur walks up.

“That’s an interesting rock.”

First dinosaur looks at him.

“My rock.”

“What?”

“My rock. I was here first.”

“You’ve been here twelve minutes.”

“MY ROCK.”

And somewhere in the distance, a meteor is approaching that will make this entire property dispute significantly less important. The meteor wonders… “I didn’t know Dinosaurs could ta…..”

The rock remains.

Thousands and thousands and thousands of years pass.

Eventually a couple of cowboys ride up.

They get off their horses and stare at it.

One of them probably says:

“That’s quite a rock.”

The other cowboy nods.

Because cowboys weren’t particularly verbose.

“Yep.”

“You think it means something?”

“Could.”

“What do you think it means?”

Long pause.

“Rock.”

And then they ride away.

Because apparently there was once a time when human beings could encounter something beautiful without immediately trying to figure out how much they could charge other people to look at it.

This skill has subsequently been lost.

Eventually another guy arrives.

He doesn’t have a horse.

He has a Range Rover.

And plans.

He looks at exactly the same rock.

But he doesn’t see millions of years of geological history.

He doesn’t see the ancient desert.

He doesn’t see dinosaurs.

He sees:

ROCK VISTA LUXURY RESIDENCES

Where Timeless Geology Meets Contemporary Living.

Starting in the low $800s.

Suddenly, 146 condos surround the rock.

Every single one is advertised as having a:

ROCK VIEW.

Unit 312 technically has a rock view if you stand on the toilet and lean six inches to the left.

ROCK VIEW.

That’s an additional $47,000.

There is now an infinity pool positioned specifically so the rock appears in every Instagram photo.

A restaurant called Sediment.

A coffee shop called Strata.

The HOA logo is the rock.

The Wi-Fi password is probably:

MYROCK2026!

And somewhere there’s a sales office with a giant photograph of the rock taken before they built all the condos that now prevent you from seeing the rock.

But we’re not finished.

Because eventually somebody realizes people will pay money to get closer to the rock.

Now there’s a trail.

Then there’s a guided trail.

Then there’s:

THE PREMIUM ROCK EXPERIENCE

For $79 you can stand approximately eleven feet closer to the rock than the people who purchased General Rock Admission.

For $129:

THE SUNSET ROCK EXPERIENCE

Same rock.

Later.

There’s probably a VIP package.

You get a reusable water bottle and a lanyard.

The lanyard says:

ROCK INSIDER. ROLL OUTSIDER.

At some point, a marketing consultant suggests putting a QR code on the rock.

Everyone agrees this is probably too much.

Then they do it anyway. After the consultant convinces them that the QR code could be in the shape of the rock.

Eventually somebody discovers dinosaur bones underneath the development.

And the developer is thrilled.

Not because they’re scientifically important.

Because now the brochure says:

LIVE WHERE DINOSAURS ONCE ROAMED

The condos immediately go up another $75,000.

The restaurant adds a $26 Impossible Brontosaurus Burger. But they don’t have A1 Sauce because that isn’t Vegan.

The gift shop starts selling plush dinosaurs wearing little ROCK VISTA T-shirts.

And somewhere, deep beneath 146 luxury condominiums, a dinosaur who claimed the rock 100 million years ago is thinking:

I fucking told you.

MY ROCK.

Which I suppose is what we do.

We find something beautiful.

We stare at it.

We appreciate it.

And then eventually somebody shows up with architectural renderings and three pricing tiers.

The rock doesn’t care.

It survived dinosaurs.

It survived cowboys.

It survived meteors.

It will probably survive the HOA.

Although I wouldn’t bet on that last one.

Which brings us naturally to sports gambling.

Because yesterday, against all available evidence, we discovered something even more durable than sandstone:

Benzo accidentally betting the wrong side.

The Autopsy

Yesterday’s card was supposed to be:

Clemson/LSU Under 50.5

Pitt -16.5

UNLV ML

There was only one problem.

I screwed up.

I accidentally bet:

Clemson/LSU OVER 50.5

LSU beat Clemson 51-10.

That’s 61 points.

Meaning Bertie and I handicapped the game incorrectly…

I placed the bet incorrectly…

And somehow:

WE WON.

This is a deeply troubling development.

Because now we have evidence suggesting the weakest link in our handicapping process may be:

The handicapping process.

Meanwhile:

Pitt -16.5 ✅

Pitt won 59-14.

Apparently we could have laid 44½ and still had enough room to stop for coffee.

UNLV ML ✅

UNLV beat Hawai’i 21-6.

The bounce-back worked exactly the way we wanted it to.

No points required.

Just win the football game.

They did.

Which means yesterday was:

3-0

Not because we correctly predicted all three games.

That would have been less interesting.

We correctly predicted two games and then accidentally bet against ourselves on the third.

My model. My rules. My inability to correctly operate the sportsbook app.

The Giant Scoreboard

ALL SPORTS: 1,047-1,075-7

And somehow:

TENNIS: 1-1

Who the hell bets on tennis?

Today’s Picks

Back to baseball, and today we’re building a four-leg card: Pirates F5 ML -180 is the expensive anchor because we’re buying five innings of Skenes and politely declining the Pittsburgh bullpen. Red Sox ML ~-135 gets the pitching matchup without requiring a kidney donation. Diamondbacks ML ~-105 gives us Eduardo Rodríguez at basically a coin-flip price. And Dodgers/Nationals F5 Under 4.5 keeps both bullpens out of the room and asks everybody to behave themselves for five innings.

Four picks. No fifth because five exists. No recreational tennis. No guy named Zebby. And absolutely no accidentally betting the opposite side today.

Although statistically…

I’m beginning to wonder.

Tomorrow

We’ll autopsy the four-team baseball card.

Unless I accidentally bet all four of them backward and go undefeated.

At which point Bertie will be fired from handicapping and reassigned to simply telling me what not to click.

Meanwhile, that rock will still be sitting in Arizona.

Watching humans drive past.

Watching condos get built.

Watching people pay $129 to see it at sunset.

And waiting patiently for the dinosaur to come back and settle this once and for all.

MY ROCK.

Bad Picks. Better Stories.

This isn’t called Pick What I Pick.

It’s called Don’t Pick What I Pick.

Please wager accordingly.