It's baaaaad!

I used to be a trustin’ kinda fella. Yeah. Back when I believed if a man looked you in the eye and said somethin’, that meant somethin’. A man’s word was his bond. You say what you mean, you mean what you say, and if you don’t—well then you oughta feel bad enough to lose sleep over it on a squeaky twin mattress like God intended.

That’s how I was raised. My parents didn’t give us much, but they gave us morality. Honesty. Integrity. The kinda values you couldn’t refinance or sell on Facebook Marketplace. And now? Buddy… that mess has done left the building. Poof. Gone. Like dignity at a cable news roundtable.

Now sure, there’s still some good folks out there. People who actually stand by their word. They exist. I’ve seen one in the wild. But overall? If you go around holdin’ people to what they said, congratulations—you are officially one of them “suckers born every minute.” Welcome to the club. We meet on Tuesdays. Bring your own disappointment.

Because nowadays, words mean nothin’. Promises got the lifespan of a butterfly. Folks’ll say whatever sounds good in the moment, then pivot so fast they oughta be sponsored by Nike. Principles? Optional. Integrity? Situational. Convictions blow with the wind—and that wind is powered by money.

And here’s the real kicker: people ain’t dumb, they’re just innocent. Gullible sounds ugly, but it’s really just people believing others might actually be decent. Like I did. Like a lot of us did. We thought folks meant well. Turns out some of ‘em just mean profit.

Greed is good and the only thing for some.

You got wolves out here wearin’ sheep’s clothing nowadays, all dressed with a blue check as they are bonafide, and buddy, some of ‘em ain’t even tryin’ that hard. It’s more like a wolf throwin’ on grandma’s nightgown, sayin’ “trust me,” while hidin’ the teeth behind a rehearsed smile and a mission statement.

So yeah, I miss the days when a handshake meant somethin’. Now it just means you better count your fingers afterward. And it ain’t that morality disappeared—it’s just been outsourced, diluted, and marked up for convenience.

Still… I reckon I’d rather be a former innocent than a professional liar. Because even if the world’s full of wolves, I ain’t interested in growlin’. I’ll just keep my eyes open now—and my trust and huskies on a tighter leash.

Take gamblin’, for example. Lord help us. I don’t post picks all over social media, and it ain’t ‘cause I’m shy or mysterious—it’s ‘cause I ain’t tryin’ to add to the dang noise. Everybody and their cousin’s emotional-support algorithm got a “LOCK 🔥💯” these days, and somehow they all lose quietly afterward.

See, some of us actually understand gambling. Like when Don Vito Corleone told Sonny, “Never let anyone know what you’re thinking.” That wasn’t just mob advice—that was Wagering 101. Especially in pari-mutuel betting. The more folks pile on, the more the price goes down. That ain’t conspiracy—that’s math. And math don’t care how confident your Instagram caption is.

But mark me now—there are people out there whose entire business model is leadin’ you straight down the wrong path with a flashlight and a smile. They’ll sensationalize a workout—“LOOK AT THAT TRIP!”—real loud, real public… meanwhile they’re over there schemin’ on a whole other horse like a raccoon with a spreadsheet.

We did it right on Saturday's last race at Gulfstream Park:

We liked Pitkin right on top, strictly based on our observations in the morning:

We highlighted how the horses had impressed as a Turf horse working on the dirt, on Dec.20 and how we had expected a good work on the turf, which we got, a 4 star work.

Savvy horseplayers would have immediately given Pitkin two strikes for being 5/2 on the morning line, Ian Wilkes pays double digits in the afternoon, they are not hammered at the windows as some would think. We loved Pitkin moving to the grass and horseplayers have been force fed the old Tom Ainsle's commonality 'never bet a horse who's doing something he ain't never done' I don't know if Ainsle ever cashed a ticket more than $5 based on that rule. Pitkin went off at 5-1 but if you trusted our eyes, you made a nice score.

Gamblers can be sheep. I said it. Herded by tote-board flickers, grandstand whispers, and now social media—Facebook, Snapchat, Instagram—where bad information spreads faster than a hot tip at a free beer tent. I say that's baaaaaaad! Looks official. Feels legit. Ends with you wonderin’ where your money went and why you trusted a guy whose profile pic is a Ferrari he don’t own!

Social media touts are basically the ticket stoopers at the track—the ones bendin’ down, checkin’ discarded tickets, hopin’ some distracted soul dropped a winner. Only now they’ve got branding. Logos. Catchphrases. Lies sharpened by reach, aimed real carefully at specific events.

Take football. There were “rumors”—there is always rumors—Seattle’s QB was hurt, hadn’t practiced. Line drops. Seattle was a big favorite, suddenly everybody and their barber’s unloadin’ on the 49ers.

This popped up on social media around 1 pm EDT on Saturday.

More than a million people saw it, 4.2K likes and 215 retweets. Fake news, Darnold was going to play but the sheep got herded to bet on the 49ers based on this post.

Buddy, you were shocked when Sam Darnold trotted out there for the first series like nothin’ ever happened. Seattle drubbed the 49ers. Game never close. Welcome to the lesson.

Same thing happens in racing. There are folks you cannot take seriously. No scruples. No morality. But somehow they got a following. And some of ‘em will even brag—out loud—“I can move mountains.” Yeah, well so can a bulldozer, and I ain’t lettin’ one drive my bankroll.

I want to stay clear—any which way—from those people. They’ll tell everyone a horse worked great, all smiles, all caps, meanwhile their real agenda is to manipulate the masses so they can pull the sting and bet their own live charge. Classic shell game. Different app.

Now look—White Abarrio’s got in his final work for Pegasus, a 51.3, and 106 flat gallop out, on Sunday morning, with his new glue on shoes added by renowned blacksmith, whom was called in to save the day. We’ve been vocal about his situation. Seven-million-dollar earner, hasn’t been 100% in a long while. Limited works since October. Scratched by the vets November 1 during Breeders’ Cup warmups at Del Mar. I’ve said what needs sayin’—publicly. And now? I’m goin’ quiet.

I didn't comment last week and not again this week. I am not going to make it about my opinion, I will do that in our product for the Pegasus, and buddy, I will have an opinion.

We’ll speak when we put together our Pegasus product and workout report. That race is gonna be a good one—high class, loaded field, real opinions everywhere. White Abarrio’s popularity. Folks will talk. Loudly. Confidently. Incorrectly and I want for the people who pay for Racingwithbruno to get exclusive information, it ain't exclusive if I am yelling like the Beatles, "Get Back" from a rooftop.

If you going to gamble seriously, you cannot, and I stress cannot trust the information on social media. There are grown up who make fun of their kids believing in Santa Clause, yet those same exact grown ups believe everything thats on the internet.

We have always played the game right win or lose and that ain't gonna change. I am too long in the tooth to change. We hold our opinions for our customers and readers. Everybody wants to cash—but we’re gonna do it the honest way. No smoke, no mirrors, no australian shepherds herding the pack.

If only the rest of the world shared that sentiment… well hell, I might trust people again. But I ain’t holdin’ my breath.