Friday, June 15, 2007

Cross a Cheerleader, Fear Your World con-man Casey Serin

Hell hath no fury like a cheerleader whose pom-poms have been knotted and sullied. Such is the case with Casey Serin's former cheerleaders, who have turned against him with more venom and vigor than any so-called "hater" could ever muster.

First, there were Nigel Swaby's attempts to slough off Casey Serin and make nice with the critics, who saw through his antics as just another attempt to whore for attention and drive traffic to his multiple blog drivel. He straddled the fence between the two camps, eventually switching back to Team Casey, only to recently be publicly disparaged by the Boy Wonder.

Things were quiet along the western front, until a strong wind blew in from the south. Duane LeGate was the next to go public, refuting Casey Serin's troll on the "I Am Facing Foreclosure" site that he was (pout) thinking about shutting down the blog.

Duane offered a great deal of insight into his role with Casey--and what he demanded in return. One of the few strangers to approach Casey Serin without an outstanding agenda of his own, Duane LeGate demanded that Casey start to live up to his adult responsibilities. When Casey continued his dance of deceiving and ignorning, Duane decided to go public.

Casey Serin's brother, Steve Serin, popped up next in a Friday Night Fraudcast. Like Duane LeGate, the guy was obviously trying to rattle his older brother in an attempt to have Casey Serin realize just how desperate his life had really become.

LossMitPro (Mark Villasenor in the real world) started to dance on the dark side after Casey Serin went into supporterz-ignore mode with him. As his moniker suggests, this loss mitigation specialist was working with Casey to get the half-million or so in outstanding payments down to manageable nuggets.

Like all who came before him, Casey Serin fucked this supporter as well. And apparently the new affiliation with Marty Stewart and his vague threats of lawsuits, DMCA complaints, et al, have sent Mark Villasenor into seizures of glee.

Because Mark Villasenor has always seemed to want to have a good fight with someone. And the Marty Stewart-Casey Serin posturing provided him with a great opportunity to flex some legal muscle.

Mr. Villasenor fired off an "I dare you" letter to Casey Serin and Marty Stewart. In essence, it's a response to the copyright claim that the dynamic dumbasses are making in regard to Casey Serin's "brain dump" recordings. Mark Villasenor counters that they are in fact evidence of Casey Serin's multiple crimes, and because of that cannot be copyrighted.

Giving both Casey Serin and Marty Stewart the big middle finger, Mark reposted the recordings for "public inspection." It had been theorized that "LossMitPro" was working, not for Casey Serin, but for his lenders, to ensure that Sercasey did indeed pay his debts. The message on Mark's company website confuses that theory.

What Mark Villasenor has said is that he's chomping at the bit for Casey Serin, Marty Stewart or the combination to sue him. He even says that if they don't sue him that he may initiate a case himself.

While this sounds, and perhaps is, a bit fucking crazy, it seems that Mr. LossMitPro is calling what appears to be a huge bluff. Casey Serin has too much to hide, and sitting through depositions would not only require him to travel back to California from his little hideout in Australia, it would force him to reveal, under oath, the details of all the shady dealings he's been doing for the past year and a half. Perhaps longer.

It's an incredibly interesting twist in the Casey Serin saga. And it will be crazy to see it all play out. Certainly, Marty Stewart may have lost some of his plucky backtalk as the week ends.

While I have no first-hand knowledge, I've heard it said over the past year that if you save the cheerleader, you save the world. I don't know if this is true or not, but one thing long-time "haterz" do know--it really is harder than it looks to keep a cheerleader on Team Casey Serin. Casey Serin

Put It All On Red

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I have mentioned before that, in previous incarnations, I worked on the Hill. But, with Casey Serin revealing his intentions to sell casinos and get a big win of his own, today seems like an apt day to reveal a little-known Aspeth factoid:

A bridge that I traveled between the public and private sectors was just such an endeavor. I worked as a part of a multi-billion dollar multi-national that handled these types of financial transactions.

Passing a casino from one hand to another is an incredibly complex and fragile spiderweb of intricacies. The reason that these types of firms become involved in these transactions is because few entities have pockets deep enough to facilitate such a deal, and their role is further enhanced with a responsibility to keep everything clean.

In truth, there are only a dozen or so individuals in the U.S. who will qualify to take ownership of this type of property. Far from traditional real estate marketing, this type of effort involves a very short list of potential candidates, and conversations are quick, quiet, and to the point.

Since Casey Serin seems so intent on "selling" his vast real estate/financial/foreclosure experience via books and seminars, I'm not going to give him the cow, so to speak. Casey Serin

But suffice to say that money is just the first hurdle that one encounters in this type of transaction. The Gaming Review Boards are not to be fucked with. To even own a smaller mom-and-pop type casino worth under $10 million, the buyer(s) must first undergo an extensive background check, at their own expense, for the Gaming Review Board to search every nook and cranny of that individual's moral and financial background.

Just having someone like Casey Serin sitting at the table would muddy any potential deal. Hell, let's be honest. Just having someone like Casey Serin licking stamps in the mail room would muddy the deal.

In short, Gaming Review is the licensing body that is charged with ensuring that gambling remains profitable to gamblers, at a minimum of (x) percentage of the time. If you've ever had to get a liquor license, imagine if that process came with an automatic, gigantic anal probe. Now multiply that by ten and you've got the Gaming Review Board.

While the potential buyer(s) writes a blank cheque to the Board to investigate him or her or them, it is necessary for everyone at the table to sit down and pore over the financials. Hey Casey, do you have any fucking idea what EBITDA means? What a fucking multiplier is? Because everyone else at the table does, and they're going to knock you on your ass if you hold up the process.

Financials can be thousands of pages long, earmarking expenses and values of everything from the FF&E to labor to insurance to laundry to contracts. And that's before you even get to the tables and slots.

That's all I'm going to say about the process. It's enough information to point out just how laughable Casey Serin's sad little hope and dream of somehow landing a $1.5 billion whale is. I'm not applying an ounce of sarcasm when I say that he's actually got better statistical odds of winning the lottery, twice, or being directly struck by lightening six times.

Casey, get it through your tiny little bird's just not that simple. Just because a number is written on the wall doesn't mean it's up for grabs. Let's say that on some distant planet, in some parallel universe (am I speaking your language yet?) that you were actually able to facilitate a buyer and seller in this type of situation.

Let me tell you what would happen next. You would be like a small animal who happened across an elephant just as it was struck dead by a boulder. You might see it first and claim it as your own. But you're just a little guy in the food chain. And bigger carnivores like my team and I would swoop in and make it very clear, very quickly, just how rightfully ours that elephant ass is.

It's a good thing that the nice people at C-net helped you inquire about a job at Jamba Juice (hey, wasn't that your schtick with Nigel as well?) because you might be able to squeeze juice out of pet grass, but you're not going to strike it rich at the casino.