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Brent Musburger just needs two more years, baby. Two more years, Chan Lo, and the Triads will get their money. Hell, with a little luck, Ol' Brent might even have a business proposition for you when it's all said and done. Three words: Manila Hissing Cockroach Fighting. No drug test on the planet can prove you're injecting them with liquid methamphetamine, and believe us, buddy, that's something we know from happy experience.*
*Unlike apes. Damn you, Dick Pound. Damn you and your little cups of piss to hell. I almost had the deed to Davos, and you had to stick your urine-scented nose in there. We had a good thing going in Dubai, and you just had to ruin it, you bastard.
Plus the suits are willing to pay for it, so there's no sense in rushing things. You think I haven't been dangled off the side of a freighter before? Please. Norby Williamson did worse to me in the first three days I knew him, rookie. You go ahead and let me drop, because where I'm from that's called a "gambler's jacuzzi."
That place is Montana. Did I mention I know bears who will do unspeakable things for flats of expired domestic beer. They've seen bear bile extraction videos, Chan Lo. They wouldn't take it easy on you, even if you're not like the other insane, murderous Chinese gamblers I know. And love. Let's never forget the love, Chan Lo.