The power of Charles was only remotely sensed by the great minds of the past.  Einstein claimed that God does not play dice with the universe.  Hawking countered “Not only does god play dice, but he throws them where they cannot be seen.”  This exchange has troubled supporters of both theories.  The latter group, referred to in the relevant literatures collectively as “The purty mirror I bought on my trip to Silverton last spring, when my sister got hitched,” support hawking’s image of god as an unrepentant Dodge City Gamblero who is more than happy to hide a couple of cards in his blousy sleeves and an Arkansas toothpick in his boot. This camp, the proponents of the so-called Gambler’s Universe, claims that God created the universe and therefore qualifies as the house.  As the spiritual embodiment of chance, god’s House status affords him the luxury of loading the dice in any way he deems appropriate.  We as simple gamblers must attempt to calculate house odds with these potentially faulty dice and accept that there will be a smear of uncertainty in our calculations.  (A well known consequence of this model is that quantum mechanics must therefore be a statistical theory.)  

     Beneath this inquiry lurks a sequence of more fundamental questions:

  Assuming god plays dice with the universe, what game is he playing?  Quite simple. Charles.  

Whose name does god invoke in order to gain specific rolls?  (The immortal ‘snake-eyes’ cannot be used, for obvious reasons, and ‘Baby needs a new pair of shoes is useless also, since his son can’t use them.  Sore feet.)  Charles.

 

     Of what are god’s universal dice made?

    --Ivory, most likely, because