Floor Statements

Mr. Speaker, I thank the gentleman from Minnesota for yielding me time.

Mr. Speaker, when you think of Oregon, the first thing you think of is trees. Therefore, it should be no surprise that my home State, Oregon, is the largest producer of Christmas trees in the Nation. I am proud to say the overwhelming majority are grown in my district. We have hundreds and hundreds of Christmas tree growers.

In the coming weeks it is estimated that Oregon growers will be harvesting 7.8 million Christmas trees, roughly one quarter of the total nationwide. Not only will these trees make their way to homes in America but also homes in Canada, Mexico, Japan, Panama, Costa Rica, Philippines, Taiwan, Guam, as well as many other international destinations.

I want to thank the gentlewoman from North Carolina for bringing this bill to the House floor today. With the holiday season just around the corner, there could not be a more appropriate time for the House of Representatives to recognize the joy the Christmas tree industry brings to homes across our country this time of year. There is no better activity than going with a family to pick out that Christmas tree.

Please support H.J. Resolution 96.

Mr. Speaker, in the 5 years since this Administration declared a ``War on Terror'', hundreds of insurgents have been detained in Afghanistan and Iraq and are currently being held at Guantanamo Bay by American military forces. It was my hope that this legislation would establish clear guidelines for the treatment of these detainees as opposed to the undefined, and often conflicting, rules that the Administration has been acting under. Instead, this legislation threatens both the safety of our troops and undermines our values. Rather than clearly banning abuse and clearly recognizing these detainees as POWs under the Geneva Conventions, this legislation reinterprets the Geneva Conventions' guidelines and leaves American soldiers serving in Iraq, Afghanistan, and elsewhere outside the scope of protection offered by the Geneva Conventions. We have made the decision to send these soldiers into harm's way and we cannot in good conscience vote for legislation that exposes them to the risk of abuse.

Mr. Speaker, earlier today I was unavoidably detained and as a result missed rollcall 478, a privileged motion offered by the minority leader.

Had I been present, I would have voted ``aye'' on the motion.

Mr. Speaker, I rise today to honor a fallen hero. Sergeant Nathaniel ``Brad'' Lindsey was a family man, a fellow Oregonian, and a proud American. He understood the actions that needed to be taken so that his countrymen could continue to enjoy the blessings of freedom.

Last Saturday, Brad made his final sacrifice on behalf of a grateful nation while on patrol in the Zabul province of Afghanistan.

Three days ago Americans gathered to mark the passing of another September 11th and to honor those who perished on that horrible day and in the five years since. Since that day we have been a nation at war. Since that day we have fought that war by asking men and women like Brad Lindsey to travel to points across the globe to defend our ideals, to protect our communities. And it is to their credit that these men and women have never shied away from this request.

Brad had always dreamed of joining the military. He spent four years in the Navy before joining the Oregon National Guard in 1996. Always one to volunteer for a mission, he was dedicated to his country's needs, whatever they were. During his time in the National Guard, he spent time in Saudi Arabia, Iraq, and New Orleans before heading to Afghanistan this past June.

It was in New Orleans that our paths crossed. I was there to see first hand the devastation caused by Hurricane Katrina and to talk with the Oregon National Guardsmen and women who were stationed there. Brad served as my driver during my time in Louisiana.

It was obvious that his devotion to his country was only exceeded by his devotion and love for his family; his wife Joyce and his four children. I am sure that it was a source of continual pride that his oldest son had chosen to follow in his footsteps and joined the Oregon National Guard.

We in this chamber have an obligation to see that Brad's children inherit a land worthy of their father's sacrifice. We must find the resolve necessary to do that which must be done, as Brad did so many times.

I join all Oregonians, and all Americans, in expressing my deepest condolences to the family of Brad Lindsey for their loss. Our state, and our nation, is greater because of Brad's presence and we are lessened by his passing.

Mr. Speaker, I rise today to honor a great man, Monroe Sweetland. A political renaissance man who positively affected the lives of generations of Oregon students through his commitment to higher education.

A native of Salem, Oregon, Mr. Sweetland was a walking history book of Oregon and national politics. A former Oregon legislator, newspaper publisher, and education advocate, he counted among his friends many illustrious members of the national Democratic Party, including Eleanor Roosevelt, Harry Truman, John F. Kennedy, and Hubert Humphrey.

Despite the accolades and attention, Mr. Sweetland always considered the work that he did in the field of education to be his most important.

Through his efforts Portland State University was transformed from a struggling city college into a full-fledged urban university, thereby giving countless students the opportunity to study at a first-class institution.

In the mid 1960s Mr. Sweetland's career shifted beyond Oregon and he became the National Education Association's political director for 13 western States. It was in this capacity that he initiated what became the Bilingual Education Act of 1968, which provided Federal money to encourage school districts to try approaches such as teaching English as a second language.

His work at the NEA merely exemplified the compassion that he felt for all people, regardless of skin color. He was a vocal critic of the internment of Japanese Americans during World War II and is credited with helping build support for a civil rights bill passed by the Oregon Legislature in 1953, after 17 civil rights bills had been unsuccessful.

I know that I am joined by my fellow Oregonians, and many others across the country, when I express my deepest condolences to Monroe Sweetland's family for their loss.

Oregon has lost one of its greatest citizens, a person whose influence will continue to be felt for years to come, and we, as a State, are greater for his presence and lesser for his passing.

Mr. Speaker, distinguished colleagues, I ask for your attention so we can honor a fallen hero. Sergeant First Class Richard J. Henkes was a proud American, a fellow Oregonian--he was a warrior who stood on the edge of the world so that each of us could enjoy the blessings of liberty.

I ask for this moment because just last week, Richard gave his last full measure of devotion while on patrol in Mosul, Iraq.

Though the war continues on, we must remember the individual sacrifice of the men and women fulfilling their charge. We cannot allow ourselves to forget the faces or the families of the brave soldiers, sailors, airmen, and marines that serve on the brink of chaos so that others might live free.

Sergeant Henkes was courageous; he selflessly went where others feared to tread. I believe that Oregon, that America, that our world is less, far less, for his passing. We can ill afford to lose patriots of his character and passion.

Yesterday we gathered with friends and loved ones to mark the passing of another September 11th. It has been five years since the terror attacks of 2001. Since that day we have been a nation at war; since that moment we have fought that war by sending our best and brightest across the globe to defend our ideals, to protect our communities. And since that time we have been in debt to citizens like Richard Henkes.

Richard wanted a life in uniform so that he could make a difference; he viewed service to his country as a calling and wanted to keep his nation, state, and community safe from harm. Sergeant Henkes understood what many forget: freedom demands sacrifice. We are indebted to his willingness to take upon himself the burden of service; we are forever connected to Richard because of his devotion to our lives.

Sergeant Henkes remained in the Army because he wanted something better for his daughter Isabel. Like most of us, Richard hoped that his child could inherit a healthier place, a safer community. Sadly, Sergeant Henkes will not be able to secure that future for Isabel, but we can. She is now a part of our family; Isabel is now our shared responsibility.

We in this chamber have an obligation, a duty, to ensure that Isabel inherits a land worthy of her father's sacrifice. We here today, must bear personal responsibility for doing our part--for Richard has already done his.

Although I never had the opportunity to meet Richard, I know him through his actions, his hopes, and his values. When his nation called, Richard answered. When his daughter needed, Richard delivered. And when duty demanded the ultimate sacrifice, Richard fulfilled his charge without hesitation, reservation, or doubt.

Today let us come together and express our profound sorrow at the loss of our Richard Henkes. Let us join in one voice and tell the Henkes family that we thank them for the life and service of their Richard. Let us prove to them by our actions in the future, that his sacrifice was not in vain. And let us endeavor to keep Richard and all those he served with in our thoughts and prayers as we decide the course of our nation.

Mr. Speaker, I rise today to recognize a great Oregonian and a proud American, H. Merle Jackson.

Mr. Jackson, a native son of Oregon, served his country for 32 years. During his nine years on active duty in the United States Air Force, two years on active duty in the United States Navy and 21 years as a member of the United States Army Reserve, he served all over the world, including the Korean War and multiple tours in Vietnam, finishing his service to our Nation as a Master Sergeant.

After his retirement, Mr. Jackson continued his commitment to our Nation by taking up the cause of our retired fighting men and women through his work with the Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW). He has served as a post and district commander, state chairman and from 1998-99 he was the Department Commander for the State of Oregon.

Today, Mr. Jackson continues his lifelong dedication to those who have sacrificed so much for our Nation, as he enters his fourth year on the National Legislative Committee to the Veterans of Foreign Wars and his first year as Vice Chairman of this prestigious committee. He is the first Oregonian to serve in this capacity, and I ask my colleagues to join me in recognizing his dedication and determination to ensuring that we meet our responsibilities to our Nation's veterans.

Mr. Speaker, I yield myself as much time as I may consume.

Mr. Speaker, I rise in support of H.R. 4411, the Internet Gambling Prohibition Act.

I would like to thank Mr. Leach and Mr. Goodlatte for their hard work on bringing this bill to the House floor. It certainly has not been an easy task.

I would like to thank Mr. Frank, our ranking member on the Financial Services Committee, for the opportunity to manage this debate. Even though he and I do not see eye to eye on this legislation, I appreciate and respect the fact that we have agreed to disagree, and I welcome a healthy debate on enforcement of the illegal Internet gambling laws.

Internet gambling is a growing problem in the United States, particularly among young people and college students. It is known to destroy families, marriages and entire lives. As so aptly put by University of Illinois Professor John Kindt, ``You just click the mouse and lose your house.''

This legislation makes clear that we are serious about enforcing our Internet gambling laws that are already on the books. It takes a very important step forward, and we have worked very hard on the Financial Services Committee over the last few Congresses to advance this measure.

This bill cuts off the flow of money to Internet gambling Web sites by regulating payment systems. The Department of Treasury and the Federal Reserve will jointly develop policies and procedures for identifying and preventing financial transactions related to illegal Internet gambling. Payment systems will be required to comply with these regulations.

Even when criminal law cannot be enforced, the Federal Government's jurisdiction over financial systems can nevertheless cut off the money sources for these illegal businesses.

I believe we should mean what we say when it comes to Internet gambling. If we are to keep laws on the books that prohibit Internet gambling, then we should take steps to enforce it. And by cutting off the flow of money, we can accomplish just that.

As was previously noted, this bill is supported by 48 of the 50 State attorneys general, by the NCAA, the NBA, the NFL, the MLB and the NHL. It is a good bill and a commonsense approach to a growing problem. I urge my colleagues to end the flow of money to illegal Internet gambling Web sites, and I urge passage of this bill.

Mr. Speaker, I reserve the balance of my time.

Mr. Speaker, I yield 4 minutes to the gentleman from Massachusetts (Mr. Frank), the ranking member on the Financial Services Committee.

Mr. Speaker, I yield 2 minutes to the gentleman from Texas (Mr. Paul).

(Mr. PAUL asked and was given permission to revise and extend his remarks.)

Mr. Speaker, I reserve the balance of my time.

Mr. Speaker, I have no further requests for time, and I reserve the balance of my time.

Mr. Speaker, I reserve the balance of my time.

Mr. Speaker, I yield myself such time as I may consume.

I just have to clarify a few things that have been said. First of all, this bill is about enforcing the law that is already on the books. This is not about prohibiting gambling. States can regulate their own gambling. They can regulate Internet gambling. This is about enforcing the laws.

We had a hearing in Financial Services where the FBI Director was in front of us and he said this is a significant vehicle for money laundering. GAO reports that Internet gambling can be a significant vehicle for money laundering proceeds because they can move large quantities of money around rapidly to obscure criminal origins. Internet gambling generates over $10 billion in revenues. Nearly 80 percent of those revenues are impossible to account for because illegal gambling sites are located in jurisdictions with no regulation on gambling.

This allows States the prerogative to decide what kind of gambling should be permitted or forbidden within the State borders. Some States say you cannot gamble; other States say you can. The attorneys general of 48 States have said they are in support of this legislation. It will make online gambling impossible for minors. Minors cannot go into brick and mortar facilities right now. It should, in fact, make it inaccessible for minors.

It recognizes the jurisdictional impediments for prosecuting offshore gambling businesses. Financial systems will be required to block money flow to these businesses, cutting off the oxygen for these illegal transactions.

Mr. Speaker, I reserve the balance of my time.

Mr. Speaker, I yield myself the balance of my time to close.

First of all, in my opening statement there was a person I forgot to thank who has carried this banner in Financial Services for a long time, Mr. Bachus from Alabama. I thank you for all the hard work you have done on this.

In closing, Mr. Speaker, I would like to share some interesting facts from an article written for the New York Times by Matt Schwartz.

Researchers say that Internet gambling is addictive. Players say it is addictive. In fact, the action, the act of placing a bet, and the high that follows has been identified by neurologists as a similar high to doing a line of cocaine. Blood rushes to the face, the hands moisten, and the mouth dries up.

Internet gambling has also dramatically changed the face of addiction. An estimated 1.6 million of the 17 million U.S. college students gambled online last year, mostly on poker. According to a study by the Annenberg Public Policy Center, the number of college males who reported gambling online once or more a week quadrupled in the last year alone. This is a growing addiction.

The stereotypical compulsive gambler is now much more likely to be a teenager or a college student. Before

the rise of online gambling, the typical compulsive gambler was in his thirties or forties and took a decade to run the destructive course. Now online gamblers are running the same course in 18 months or less.

These facts are disturbing and highlight the need for action by this Congress. Again, this bill is a commonsense approach that cuts off the flow of money to Internet gambling Web sites by regulating the payment systems.

And, again, we have to remember these laws are already on the books. What we are trying to do is enforce the laws. The Department of the Treasury and the Federal Reserve will jointly develop policies and procedures for identifying and preventing financial transactions related to illegal Internet gambling. Payment systems will be required to comply with these regulations. Again, States are allowed to regulate gambling within their own States.

I urge my colleagues to end the flow of money to illegal Internet gambling Web sites, and I urge the passage of H.R. 4411.

[From the New York Times, June 11, 2006]

Chapter 2: The Gambler; The Hold-'Em Holdup

(By Mattathias Schwartz)

Greg Hogan Jr. was on tilt. For months now, Hogan, a 19-

year-old Lehigh University sophomore, had been on tilt, and

he would remain on tilt for weeks to come. Alone at the

computer, usually near the end of one of his long online

gambling sessions, the thought ``I'm on tilt'' would occur to

him. Dude, he'd tell himself, you gotta stop. These thoughts

sounded the way a distant fire alarm sounds in the middle of

a warm bath. He would ignore them and go back to playing

poker. ``The side of me that said, `Just one more hand,' was

the side that always won,'' he told me months later. ``I

couldn't get away from it, not until all my money was gone.''

In a little more than a year, he had lost $7,500 playing

poker online.

``Tilt'' is the poker term for a spell of insanity that

often follows a run of bad luck. The tilter goes berserk,

blindly betting away whatever capital he has left in an

attempt to recoup his losses. Severe tilt can spill over past

the poker table, resulting in reputations, careers and

marriages being tossed away like so many chips. This is the

kind of tilt Hogan had, tilt so indiscriminate that one

Friday afternoon this past December, while on his way to see

``The Chronicles of Narnia'' with two of his closest friends,

he cast aside the Greg Hogan everyone knew--class president,

chaplain's assistant, son of a Baptist minister--and became

Greg Hogan, the bank robber.

On Dec. 9, 2005, Hogan went to see ``Narnia'' with Kip

Wallen, Lehigh's student-senate president, and Matt

Montgomery, Hogan's best friend, in Wallen's black Ford

Explorer. Hogan, who was sitting in front, asked Wallen to

find a bank so he could cash a check, and Wallen pulled over

at a small, oatmeal-colored Wachovia. Inside, Hogan paused at

the counter for a moment and then joined the line. He handed

the teller a note that said he had a gun, which was a bluff.

``Are you kidding?'' her face seemed to say. He did his best

to look as if he weren't. With agonizing slowness, she began

assembling the money. Moments later, a thin sheaf of bills

appeared in the tray: $2,871. Hogan stuffed it into his

backpack, turned around and walked back out to the car.

The movie ended, and the trio returned to campus. Hogan

went immediately to Sigma Phi Epsilon, his fraternity, and

used some of the stolen money to pay back brothers who had

lent him hundreds of dollars. He then joined a few friends at

an off-campus pizzeria for dinner. Someone's cellphone rang,

with the news that police had stormed the Sig Ep house. No

one knew why. Hogan stayed silent. After dinner, his friends

dropped him off at orchestra practice. Allentown police

officers were waiting for him. They handcuffed him and took

him to headquarters, where he confessed almost immediately.

Hogan's first call was to his parents back home in Ohio.

They had just finished eating dinner at T.G.I. Friday's. ``He

was at the end of himself,'' Greg Hogan Sr. told me. ``He

couldn't believe he had done it. Not that he was denying

anything, but he felt like he was watching another person's

life.''

To wired college students today, Internet gambling is as

familiar as beer, late-night pizza and the Saturday night

hook-up. Poker--particularly Texas hold 'em--is the game of

choice. Freshmen arrive already schooled by ESPN in the

legend of Chris Moneymaker, the dough-faced 27-year-old

accountant who deposited $40 into his PokerStars.com account

and parlayed it into a $2.5 million win at the World Series

of Poker in Las Vegas. Throughout the dorms and computer labs

and the back rows of 100-level lecture halls you can hear the

crisp wsshhp, wsshhp, wsshhp of electronic hands being dealt

as more than $2 billion in untaxed revenue is sucked into

overseas accounts each year.

Researchers say that Internet poker is addictive. Players

say that it's addictive. The federal government says that

it's illegal. But colleges have done little to stop its

spread on campus. Administrators who would never consider

letting Budweiser install taps in dorm rooms have made high-

speed Internet access a standard amenity, putting every

student with a credit card minutes away from 24-hour high-

stakes gambling. Online casinos advertise heavily on sites

directed at college students like CollegeHumor.com, where

students post pictures of themselves playing online poker

during lectures with captions like: ``Gambling while in

class. Who doesn't think that wireless Internet is the

greatest invention ever?'' Some schools have allowed sites to

establish a physical on-campus presence by sponsoring live

cash tournaments; the sites partner with fraternities and

sports teams, even give away a semester's tuition, all as

inducements to convert the casual dorm-lounge poker player to

a steady online customer. An unregulated network of offshore

businesses has been given unfettered access to students, and

the students have been given every possible accommodation to

bet and lose to their hearts' content. Never before have the

means to lose so much been so available to so many at such a

young age.

An estimated 1.6 million of 17 million U.S. college

students gambled online last year, mostly on poker. According

to a study by the Annenberg Public Policy Center, the number

of college males who reported gambling online once a week or

more quadrupled in the last year alone. ``The kids really

think they can log on and become the next world champion,''

says Jeffrey Derevensky, who studies youth problem gambling

at McGill University in Montreal. ``This is an enormous

social experiment. We don't really know what's going to

happen.''

Greg Hogan is far from the only college student to see the

game's role in his life grow from a hobby to a destructive

obsession. Researchers from the University of Connecticut

Health Center interviewed a random sample of 880 college

students and found that 1 out of every 4 of the 160 or so

online gamblers in the study fit the clinical definition of a

pathological gambler, suggesting that college online-poker

addicts may number in the hundreds of thousands. Many, like

Lauren Patrizi, a 21-year-old senior at Loyola University in

Chicago, have had weeks when they're playing poker during

most of their waking hours. Rarely leaving their rooms, they

take their laptops with them to bed, fall asleep each night

in the middle of a hand and think, talk and dream nothing but

poker. By the time Patrizi finally quit, the game seemed to

be both the cause of all her problems and her only means of

escaping them. ``I kept on playing so I wouldn't have to look

at what poker had done to my bank account, my relationships,

my life,'' she told me.

Other addicts, like Alex Alkula, a 19-year-old living

outside Columbus, Ohio, decide to ``go pro,'' drop out of

school and wind up broke and sleeping on their friends'

couches. Alkula, who left the Art Institute of Pittsburgh

after five months, now makes his living dealing hold 'em in

private home games and organizing tournaments in bars. Having

overdrawn four bank accounts, Alkula can no longer play

online himself. But when he gets home from work at 3 or 4 in

the morning, he turns on his computer, clicks on Full Tilt

Poker and watches the players' cards flicker on the screen

until dawn. ``I can't get away from it,'' he told me. ``And

really, I don't want to. I'll keep playing poker even if it

means being broke for the rest of my life. I've fallen in

love with the game.''

In its outline, Hogan's story closely resembles that of the

stereotypical compulsive gambler. Before the rise of online

poker, however, such a story typically involved a man in his

30's or 40's and took a decade or more to run its course.

Greg Hogan, on the other hand, went from class president to

bank robber in 16 months. His fall took place not at the

blackjack table or the track but within the familiar privacy

of his computer screen, where he was seldom more than a

minute away from his next hand of poker. He'd been brought up

too well to waste himself in some smoky gambling den and knew

too much to play a mere game of chance. He wanted to compete

against his peers, to see his superior abilities yield

dollars for the first time, a transaction he equated with

adulthood. His stubborn faith in his own ability--a trait

that had served him so well through his first 19 years--

proved to be his undoing.

Today's ruined gamblers are often too young to know any

better--too young, in fact, to legally gamble in most U.S.

casinos. Until now, these young addicts were ignored by the

news media, which swooned over the top of the poker pyramid,

the Chris Moneymakers and the ESPN heroes, the guys in the

wraparound sunglasses and the cowboy hats who made the

hustler's art seem somehow noble and athletic. No one was

interested in whose losses keep the poker economy humming,

not until a Baptist minister's son robbed a bank.

A minister's eldest boy learns to perform early in life. On

Sundays, Greg's mother, Karen, would dress him and his two

brothers in matching slacks and blazers and take them and

their sister to hear Greg Sr. preach. The congregation looked

on as the boys followed Greg Jr's polite, attentive example.

Schooled at home through eighth grade, the straw-haired,

blue-eyed boy emulated his father's steady gaze, the soft but

firm quality in his voice. He saw that others would come to

rely on him if he revealed only his strongest side. When Greg

Sr. ran

for City Council, Greg Jr. enlisted his playmates to help him

campaign door to door. Neighbors began calling Greg ``the

General.'' When it came to music, Greg was like a boat on a

still pond--one small push from his parents and he'd glide on

toward the goal. Karen, a psychiatric nurse, started him on

the piano at 5. Greg Sr. worked a second job to help pay for

$50-an-hour private music lessons for his daughter and three

boys. By 13, Greg had twice played onstage at Carnegie Hall.

Music won him a scholarship to the prestigious University

School, a day school outside Cleveland, where his classmates

noticed his oddly mature ways and dubbed him ``the 30-year-

old man.'' By graduation, he'd developed something of an ego.

``Greg will always be a people person,'' wrote his adviser in

an evaluation letter. ``Perhaps he should set his sights a

little lower and just become president of the United

States.''

Hogan, who had palled around with the sons of bank

executives at his high school, threw himself into this new

environment. Even before his father had said goodbye to head

back to Ohio, Greg announced his plan to run for class

president. He played his first hands of live hold 'em with

real money that night, a way to break the ice with the guys

from his hall in the dorm lounge. A few weeks later, guided

by one of his roommate's friends, Hogan opened his first

online-poker account at PokerStars.com. He chose a screen

name that would carry his new school's banner all around the

world: geelehigh. He'd met someone from two floors down who

had lost $100--a fortune, it seemed--online. He decided to

stick to the play-money tables. Within 10 minutes, Hogan was

playing his first online hands.

A few days later he met another friend of his roommate's.

Hogan claims that he remembers only his nickname, Phys. When

he turned 21, Phys told Hogan, he would plunk down $10,000

and become the youngest player ever to win poker's greatest

prize--the World Series of Poker No Limit Texas Hold 'Em

bracelet. He then showed Hogan where he planned on getting

that kind of money. He clicked on the PokerStars icon on

Hogan's computer, typed in a user name and password, clicked

on ``Cashier.'' And there it was, Phys's ``real money''

balance: more than $160,000. Hogan clucked his tongue. ``Un-

be-lievable,'' he said, almost to himself. He knew that the

money was indeed real. All Phys had to do was click on the

``Cash Out'' button and wait two weeks, and he'd receive a

six-figure check in the mail. Four years' tuition, sitting

there like a high score. It was absurd.

The next week, geelehigh used his debit card to make a $75

PokerStars deposit. He received a $25 ``deposit bonus,''

which wouldn't clear until he'd played several hundred hands.

The money was real now, but it still felt as ephemeral as it

did at the play-money tables: $100 was a digitized chip icon,

an oval of black pixels on his computer screen. Green ovals

were $25, red ovals $5. All were smaller than a grain of

rice. When Hogan clicked on the ``Bet'' or ``Raise'' buttons,

the chips made a chik sound and floated across the glowing

table before melting into the pot. These tiny digital chips

represented money controlled by a corporation in Costa Rica.

The ``cards'' themselves were really just bits of data,

``shuffled'' by a random-number generator on a Mohawk Indian

reservation in Quebec. The nine players at Hogan's table were

scattered all over the world, each sitting alone at his

screen, trying to take money from the other eight.

Eventually, in chunks of $50, then $100, he took two summers'

earnings, money his parents had given him for books and

expenses, hundreds of dollars in loans from friends, $2,000

in savings bonds bought in his name (bonds he took from the

family safe) and turned it into digital chips: $7,500 in all.

Online, Hogan would play 60 to 100 hands an hour--three

times the number of his live games. There was no more

shuffling between hands, no more 30-second gaps to chat with

his friends or consider quitting. Each hand interlocked with

the next. The effect was paralyzing, narcotic. ``Internet

poker induces a trancelike state,'' says Derevensky, the

McGill professor, who once treated a l7-year-old Canadian boy

who lost $30,000, much of it at PokerStars. ``The player

loses all track of time, where they are, what they're

doing.'' When I spoke with an online hold-'em player from

Florida who had lost a whopping $250,000 online, he told me:

``It fried my brain. I would roll out of bed, go to my

computer and stay there for 20 hours. One night after I went

to sleep, my dad called. I woke up instantly, picked up the

phone and said, `I raise.' ''

A raked poker game cannot survive unless some players

either overestimate their abilities or are willing to keep

playing despite consistent losses. Fish, then, are the chum

that keeps the rest of the poker ecosystem alive. Poker

message boards monitor which sites are teeming with

geelehighs and which have been leached dry. To stay in

business, sites must attract fish, hold them for as long as

possible and replace them when they go broke. According to

Mike Shichtman, a professional gambler who consults for the

online site Pacific Poker, there is ``giant concern'' in the

industry that the total number of fish may be dwindling. It

is, he adds, a trend that can be reversed only by tapping new

markets.

In a few weeks, Hogan had run his initial $75 up to $300.

Then, in November, came ``the hand that got me hooked.''

Hogan drew a king-high flush and bet all $300. When his

opponent called the bet and showed his ace-high flush, Hogan

felt an impotent rage that broke on his forehead and coursed

through his body. Tilt. He cursed, shut down the program in

disgust and vowed never to play online again. Four days

later, however, he felt the traces of an urge as visceral as

the need to eat.

Hogan was craving ``action,'' the gambler's drug. ``Getting

action'' is the act of placing a bet; being ``in action'' is

the high that follows, a state of arousal that neurologists

have likened to doing a line of cocaine. Blood rushes to the

face, the hands moisten, the mouth dries up. Time slows down

to a continuous present, an unending series of build-ups and

climaxes. The gains and losses begin to feel the same. Action

had already appeared intermittently in Hogan's life--when he

cheered the Ohio State Buckeyes through the last seconds of

overtime, when his father called him with Lehigh's admissions

decision in hand. Poker gave him the same rush whenever he

wanted it, for hours on end.

Back in Ohio, Hogan's October bank statement arrived with

two $50 PSTARS withdrawals. His father called, asked why he'd

waste money like that. Greg promised to stop. He played again

that day. He had not and would not read any of the half-dozen

books that together give a rough grasp of how hard hold-em is

to master. He had no idea that many of his opponents were

self-styled professionals using a special program called

Poker Tracker to analyze betting patterns and seek out fish

like geelehigh. There were always some of these pros online,

some playing 8 or 12 tables at once to leverage their

advantage. They were waiting for him the night Lehigh's

football team lost to rival Lafayette, when Hogan, who'd

organized a cheering section, felt a little down and once

again pushed aside his father's warnings. They followed him

home over Thanksgiving weekend in November 2004, where, amid

the clutter of his father's small basement office, he watched

the World Series of Poker on TV, never changed out of his

pajamas and played online for 10 hours a day. He lost $1,500,

every penny he'd taken to school with him. Upstairs, the

Hogans wondered what was wrong with their son.

``It's just play money, Dad,'' he told his father, who

learned the truth when an overdraft notice arrived from

Greg's bank. Greg Jr.'s phone rang the moment he returned to

Lehigh. It was Greg Sr., who reminded Greg that the $1,500

had come from friends and relatives who didn't give it to him

so he could gamble it. Hogan, distraught, e-mailed Phys and

begged him to cover the loss. Phys agreed, so long as Greg

would stop playing. ``You're a fish,'' he said. ``You need to

stop.''

Greg had begun to daydream about poker during student-

council meetings, at orchestra practice, whenever he had a

free moment. Soon, Phys's $1,500 had melted away. Hogan's

parents arranged for him to meet with a Lehigh counselor. He

was told that live poker was harmless but to stay away from

online. For a time, the counseling worked. Hogan did not

gamble during spring semester. But that summer, back at home

in Ohio, Hogan was checking up on his friends at Facebook.com

when he saw a PartyPoker ad: make a $50 deposit, get a $50

bonus. He'd been coveting a red Jeep and remembered the times

he'd run $100 up to $500. Ten $500 sessions, get the

Cherokee, don't tilt and quit. And he did win, at first.

Then, as always, his opponents began to outmaneuver him. ``I

kept going back online, depositing another $50, winning,

withdrawing,'' he recalls. ``It happened a few times, but

then I wouldn't be withdrawing. And then I'd just keep

putting money in 'cause I kept losing.''

In July, at his parents' behest, Hogan attended a few

Cleveland-area Gamblers Anonymous meetings, which proved

handy when a friend took him to a Canadian casino to play

live poker. He found it easy to play a disciplined game under

the appraising eyes of older strangers and won $500. The G.A.

meetings had taught him to recognize the fish at the table.

Except for the one sitting in his seat.

Back at Lehigh that September, Hogan sometimes found

himself shoehorning counseling meetings between online-poker

sessions. To his friends and professors he was a terrific

success, the easygoing leader who organized landscaping

projects around the Sig Ep house and hobnobbed with Lehigh's

wealthy trustees at dinner parties. But to his parents, his

situation was growing desperate. Hogan had reneged on his

promise to attend G.A. meetings in Bethlehem. Withdrawals and

overdrafts continued to appear on his bank statements. ``I

really don't want to do this anymore, but I don't know how to

stop,'' Greg told his father. Greg Sr. then made the six-hour

drive from Ohio to install a $99 program called GamBlock on

his son's computer. Highly regarded among gambling

counselors, GamBlock makes it impossible for users to access

any Internet casinos. (The company's founder, David Warr,

says that half of his customer base, which he will only put

in the ``thousands,'' is connected to a college or

university.)

Hogan soon found a way to circumvent GamBlock, gambling by

night in the library's computer lounges. ``It was funny to

see how many other kids were playing,'' he says. ``By this

point I didn't really care so much who saw me.'' Greg Sr.

realized what was happening and asked the administration to

lock poker sites out of the public terminals. He says he was

told that nothing could be done. As November approached, the

wall Hogan had built between his Lehigh life and his poker

life had begun to crack. He would

borrow $100 or $200 from his fraternity brothers and fail to

pay them back by his self-imposed deadlines. He would skip

classes and meetings for long binges in the fraternity

lounge, gambling through the night and catching a few hours'

sleep before noon. People he hardly knew were asking him what

was the matter. On Oct. 19, when a fellow Sig Ep sent the

house an e-mail asking if anyone wanted to try to hit a

record Powerball jackpot, Greg sent this reply, a message

that went to all 60 of his brothers: ``O what the hell, maybe

my bad luck can change??? Please God??''

The end came quickly, a weeklong series of 14-hour binges

at the end of November. ``There was very little thinking,''

he told me. ``I'd get up and lose it. Get up, make another

deposit, lose it again. As soon as I lost, I had to get more

money in my account immediately. My whole body was shaking as

I waited for the program to load, I wanted to play so

badly.'' On Nov. 30, 2005, he lost the last $150 in his

account during a six-hour session in the Sig Ep lounge that

ended when a friend told him dinner was ready. ``I was up

about $500, and I was like, `I'll play two more hands,''

Hogan says. ``Then one more hand, and one more after that.

And in those last three or four hands, I lost it all. All the

muscles in my body gave way.'' He fell asleep, completely

broke. All his poker accounts were at zero. His checking

account had a negative balance. At the Sig Ep winter social,

the fraternity treasurer told Hogan he would be kicked out if

he failed to come up with $200 in social fees. Having bailed

him out twice before, Greg's parents refused to give him the

money and were considering pulling him out of Lehigh

altogether. Hogan spent the next week wandering around the

Sig Ep house in a daze, skipping classes and drinking himself

into a stupor each night.

``It was the weirdest thing I've ever experienced in my

life,'' he said. ``Like an out-of-body experience. I was

watching myself walk around. Watching myself go and eat food.

Watching myself take a shower, but not actually doing

those things. I remember looking in the mirror, and it was

not me I was seeing in the reflection.''

The night before the bank robbery, Greg spoke with his

father one last time. Greg Sr. remembers what he heard in his

son's voice. The tiredness. The lack of presence.

``Greg,'' he asked, ``are you gambling?'' Greg said what he

always said. ``Nah, Dad. It's been a while since I've done

any of that.'' Greg Sr. had gotten used to his son's half-

truths, the ``wishing out loud,'' as he calls it. He knew it

was useless to press further. ``O.K., Gregory. I love you.

Good night.''

I met Greg Hogan Jr. for breakfast one morning this spring,

at a diner a few miles from Lehigh. (As Hogan was in the

process of negotiating a plea with the county's D.A., I

agreed to ask him only about poker and refer all questions

about the day of the bank robbery to his attorney.) He had

recently completed an inpatient gambling-treatment program in

Louisiana, where he wasn't allowed to have more than $5 on

him at any time. ``I haven't played a hand of poker in 90

days,'' he said, with a recovering addict's confessional

cheer. He is 20, but his jowly face and all-business baritone

make him seem much older. Take away the American Eagle shirt

and the Ohio State Buckeyes cap and he'd resemble a young,

pale Harry Truman.

Beside us sat Greg Sr. and Karen, still fuming over media

accounts that they are ``affluent.'' On the contrary, they

have scrimped to put children through college. After paying

Greg's treatment costs, legal fees and bank debts, they

expect to be out $35,000. Hogan's lawyer has been fielding

calls from bookers at ``Oprah,'' ``Montel'' and ``Good

Morning America,'' all drawn in by the irresistible ``good

kid robs bank'' story.

Some $60 billion was bet last year in online poker games,

two-thirds of which came from the United States. The vast

majority of this money moves from player to player. About $3

billion wound up as revenue in the form of rake, a figure

that is growing by about 20 percent per year, making poker

the fastest-growing segment of the $12 billion online-

gambling industry. Unlike their brick-and-mortar

counterparts, online casinos don't have to pay for dealers,

free drinks or air-conditioning, and they enjoy profit

margins as high as 60 percent.

There are more than 400 online card rooms operating today,

offering every variety of poker game and every level of

stakes. Hold 'em, the most popular game, can be played for

anywhere from pennies to tens of thousands of dollars a hand.

Like pornography before it, gambling is shedding its stigma,

transitioning from the black market to Wall Street, from a

back-room vice to ubiquitous ``content.'' PartyGaming, the

largest operator, is valued at about $10 billion on the

London Stock Exchange. Its shares are held by Goldman Sachs,

Merrill Lynch and other top Wall Street firms. Five years

from now, if the plans of PartyGaming and other Internet

casinos come to pass, consumers will be able to place bets on

their cellphones and P.D.A.'s while waiting for a table in a

restaurant.

The public visibility of online-poker seems to be growing

as fast as its revenues. Calvin Ayre, the globetrotting

founder of the online card room and sports-betting site

Bodog.com, spends $50 million a year promoting himself and

his company as a Hefner-like lifestyle brand. He has run ads

in Esquire and Vice magazine and on Gawker Media's sites in

which Ayre himself often appears as a dapper, rakish

bachelor, personally embodying both the new poker wealth and

the rewards his younger customers hope the game might

bring. The image has caught on--this March he appeared on

the cover of Forbes's Billionaires issue.

While the Department of Justice maintains that online poker

violates U.S. laws, not a single player or site has been

indicted, and online gambling remains as available as pirated

music. To shut down Internet gambling, the D.O.J. would

either have to start monitoring what we download from the

Internet or raid legal, licensed businesses in Antigua,

Britain, Costa Rica and other countries where it has no

jurisdiction. The D.O.J. has succeeded in persuading some

credit-card companies to stop financing online-poker

accounts, but this hasn't stopped the flow of rake overseas.

U.S. players simply move funds through offshore third-party

``e-wallets'' like Neteller and Firepay, which charge a small

fee and then pass the money on to the sites.

``The Department of Justice takes the position that online

poker is illegal,'' says the former U.S. attorney Jim Martin,

who led the first phases of the department's campaign against

online-gambling advertising. ``But I don't think they have

much of a motive to go after individual bettors at all.''

Analysts say that online gambling's gray legal status

allows operators to avoid paying more than $7 billion a year

in federal taxes. And $7 billion is a lot of tax money to

leave on the table--nearly half of NASA's budget for next

year. It's probably too much for this ambiguous state of

affairs to continue for much longer. Late last month, the

House Judiciary Committee approved a bill introduced by

Representative Bob Goodlatte that would make it harder--but

far from impossible--for players to move their money

offshore, while leaving the question of domestic online

gambling to the states. With Congress unlikely to pass any

law authorizing federal oversight of our online activities,

Internet gambling's near future appears as healthy as illegal

downloading's. In the long term, the federal government's

response is likely to resemble either its response to

tobacco, with high taxes and more rigorous controls over

marketing and access to young people, or to marijuana, a

costly and mostly fruitless campaign to eradicate a demand-

driven business by cutting off the supply.

With plenty of disposable income and spare time, college

students constitute one of the gambling industry's most

coveted demographics. ``We've been surprised by this natural,

organic groundswell of demand from the college audience,''

says Jason Reindorp, marketing director for

AbsolutePoker.com, which gave away a semester's tuition to

the winner of a college-only online tournament and promoted

its Web site at halftime during N.C.A.A. basketball

tournament games. Like many sites, AbsolutePoker.com enlists

players in multilevel marketing programs. Known as

``affiliates,'' players are rewarded with a $75 bonus or a

percentage of the rake each time they find AbsolutePoker a

new customer. Reindorp says that AbsolutePoker relies on

students to make sure all this jibes with campus policy.

``The student audience is very responsible,'' he says. ``They

know how to avoid getting into trouble by breaking their

school's rules, just like they know how to avoid playing

beyond their means.''

I'd heard the same from almost every online player I'd

spoken with: I lose big, I win big, but at the end of the

day, I come out ahead. Johnson did know one losing player

who'd lost several thousand dollars and had to take a $6.25-

an-hour job at this very smoothie shop to pay for his books.

Johnson said Hogan never had much of a reputation among

Lehigh's hard-cord poker players. ``The funny thing is, he

wasn't even in that deep,'' he told me. ``Five thousand is

nothing. I know whole halls full of kids who play the

thousand-dollar buy-in No Limit tables. If everyone did the

same thing when they lost five large,'' he added with a

chuckle, ``well, there'd be a lot more bank robberies.''

Mr. Speaker, I yield back the balance of my time.

Mr. Speaker, I rise today to congratulate the baseball team of my alma mater, the Beavers of Oregon State University, for their victory over the storied Tar Heels of the University of North Carolina in a best-of-three series at the NCAA College World Series in Omaha, Nebraska.

The Beavers, with their 3-2 win over UNC, capped a storybook season with 50 wins to only 16 losses and became only the second team in any sport in OSU history to win a national title. It was a title for the College World Series record books as well, as the Beavers became the first team in tournament history to win six elimination games at the College World Series.

In the title game, just like during the regular season, great pitching combined with stellar defense, timely hitting and just a bit of luck carried the day for OSU. Five pitchers, including stalwarts Jonah Nickerson, Dallas Buck, and Kevin Gunderson, combined to allow only two unearned runs and just eight hits in the championship game.

Mr. Speaker, never in my life have I witnessed a team with more heart, grit, and guts than our OSU Beaver baseball team. The team showed outstanding dedication, resilience, character and sportsmanship throughout the season in achieving the highest honor in collegiate baseball.

The Beavers have brought pride to the Oregon State University, the Corvallis community, the State of Oregon and Beaver Nation. I ask my colleagues to join me in congratulating both teams on a hard-fought exciting series and the Beavers of Oregon State University on being the 2006 NCAA College World Series champions.

Last year, the fishing was reduced by about 60 percent. This year, the fishing along the Oregon and California coast has been reduced to almost nothing. In March, an administrator from NOAA told us they would be able to expedite a disaster by March of the 2006 season.

Well, it is way past March, folks. Yesterday we were told they will not be able to declare a disaster until February of 2007.

Let me tell you what happens: The people that cannot go out fishing cannot afford to make their payments on their boats. They cannot afford to feed their families. They cannot afford to put a roof over their heads. They can't afford school books for their children. This is a time when divorce rates go up; suicide rates go up.

These are not rich communities. These are poor communities. When disasters happen in other areas, we declare a disaster and help people out. That's what we do. This is unacceptable. We need everyone's help.

Mr. Chairman, it has been over 2 months since the regional office said, NOAA, you need to declare a national disaster with this. NOAA has said, we are not even going to look at it till February of 2007. We have had the State declare a disaster, the State of Oregon, State of California, the regional area. We have had disasters declared for droughts, for storms, for floods, for winds, and yet here is an industry that will not make it through this season unless a disaster is declared.

This is about families. It is about businesses. These coastal communities are not wealthy communities. The base industry is the fishing industry. It impacts every other business in the coastal communities. This impacts families. How are they going to pay for their boats? How are they going to pay for their homes? How are they going to pay for food for their children?

This is about families and small businesses. This disaster needs to be declared. They need help.

Mr. Chairman, again, I want to reiterate what this is all about. Last year, they reduced salmon fishing by 60 percent. This year, it is almost nonexistent. They can catch 75 fish a week. The only way you can possibly pay for your boat at 75 fish a week is if you can get $100 a pound for it. Well, salmon is really good, but I don't know of a single person that will pay $100 a pound for salmon.

So they are not fishing. They can't do it. They can't afford to pay for their boats. They can't afford to go out fishing. They can't afford to pay for their homes. And it impacts the entire community. This is the base industry of these west coast communities. These are small communities. They rely on the fishermen to buy food in the grocery store, to buy appliances at the appliance store, to buy clothing, to buy bait. When they are not operating, other businesses also don't operate.

I am happy that we have this opportunity for the $2 million as a placeholder, but what these people need is they need disaster relief. They need this now, and they need money to help them, just like we do for all other disasters that we declare.

Mr. Chairman, I would like to thank the gentleman from California for offering this important amendment.

The most tragic victims of the meth epidemic are the drug-endangered children. A recent study in Oregon revealed that police find children living on the premises of one out of every four meth laboratories that they break up. These children are exposed to toxic chemicals on a daily basis and face the constant threat of physical, mental and emotional abuse from the nonstop flow of addicts through their home.

The Drug Endangered Children Program provides vital services for these children, ensuring that law enforcement, child protective services, prosecutors and health professionals all work together to get them the help that they need.

From removing and supporting these children as they transition out of these dangerous environments to ensuring that they get medical evaluations, mental health screenings, drug and chemical exposure screenings and addiction treatment, the Drug Endangered Children Program gives children a safe and drug-free environment to live in.

That is why we introduced this legislation. I hope that my colleagues will see fit to appropriate the $5 million for this appropriate initiative.

Mr. Chairman, I appreciate being offered the time.

In my three decades of public service, I have never seen a problem as pervasive or as damaging as the meth epidemic faced by my home State of Oregon. Talking to law enforcement leaders about the meth problem, I have heard one message loud and clear. Local law enforcement lacks the money needed to extinguish this wildfire.

The Byrne-JAG program is an effective partnership between Federal authorities and State and local law enforcement. It enables State and local leaders to leverage resources in key areas and facilitates collaboration among law enforcement, treatment and prevention programs. Last year, the Byrne task forces nationwide seized 5,600 meth labs, 55,000 weapons, and massive quantities of narcotics, including 2.7 million grams of methamphetamine.

Many States have already been forced to cut or completely eliminate their gang and drug task forces. If we don't increase funding for the Byrne-JAG program, those cuts will only be deeper. I urge my colleagues to support the Kennedy amendment.

Mr. Chairman, I move to strike the last word.

Mr. Chairman, I rise today in opposition to the amendment offered by the gentleman from Arizona to strike the funding for the Northwest Manufacturing Initiative.

The Northwest Manufacturing Initiative encompasses Oregon and southwest Washington. The initiative is organized as a regional coalition, and its purpose is to make the Northwest region's diverse manufacturing sector a stronger contributor to the Nation's defense and national security.

The initiative seeks to provide to the Defense Department a coordinated, regional resource for assessing products and services being offered by the private sector that meets our Nation's future defense needs. A key goal of the initiative is to increase the contribution of the Northwest coast to the Nation's industrial preparedness and security. A focus of this project is to assist small and medium-sized manufacturers to become providers of products to defense contractors.

My colleague talked about HemCon; he talked about another company, Danner Boots. I could name several companies. There is another company, Hydration, which allows you with a membrane to fill water into this CamelBak and give you clean drinking water from the filthiest water you can find. Those are the kind of companies. These are small, innovative companies. This is where we get our innovation.

The Oregon Manufacturing Initiative is a key component of the Oregon business plan and economic development plans in communities across Oregon and southwest Washington. Local, regional and State funding has been used to plan and develop the initiative.

As manufacturing has declined in many parts of the Nation, it has become more urgent that small to medium-sized companies are mobilized to provide the necessary goods demanded by a modern military and the Nation's security. Through the Northwest Manufacturing Initiative, the Defense Department will have a one-stop resource when it needs information on what companies are providing to meet defense needs or when it seeks critical manufacturing research and development.

The Northwest Manufacturing Initiative is a regional model designed to create efficiencies and cost savings. While I appreciate the intentions of the gentleman from Arizona, I must urge my colleagues to oppose this amendment and ask they support this worthwhile project.

Mr. Speaker, I rise today to congratulate Mark Abbott, Dean of the College of Oceanic and Atmospheric Sciences at Oregon State University, on his nomination to the National Science Board. Oregon has long benefited from Dean Abbott's impressive scientific knowledge and I am delighted that he will now have the opportunity to share this insight with the rest of the country.

We in Congress have already benefited from Dean Abbott's scientific expertise. In July, 2002, he testified before the House Committee on Science's Subcommittee on Environment, Technology, and Standards about satellite data management at NOAA from the perspective of the Earth science community.

During his time at Oregon State, Dean Abbott's research has been focused on the interaction of biological and physical processes in the upper ocean. He has been a pioneer in the use of satellite ocean color data to study coupled physical/biological processes and he has also advised the Office of Naval Research and the National Science Foundation on ocean information infrastructure. Dean Abbott was also recently appointed a co-chair of the State of Oregon's Climate Change Integration Group. This panel, appointed by Oregon Governor Ted Kulongoski, has been charged with tracking the State's progress on greenhouse gas emission reductions and looking at future economic and societal implications of climate change.

The National Science Board is the governing body of the National Science Foundation, an independent federal agency established to promote the progress of science, advance the national health, prosperity, and welfare, and secure the national defense. The National Science Board has the duel responsibilities of serving as the national science policy advisor to the President and the Congress and serving as the governing board of the National Science Foundation.

Today, the Nation and the world are confronted with many questions about the possible impacts that human behavior is having on the environment. We need to make sure that our policy decisions are based on science and not the other way around. With Mark Abbott and others like him serving on the National Science Board, I know that this will continue to be the case.