There is no joy in the Greenmount off-track betting parlor in Hampstead, Maryland. It is 1pm on a Friday, and the handful of bettors lounging in front of the TVs look something between bored and miserable, the sort of long-suffering faces you associate with photographs of war zones and natural disasters. The adjoining bar is comparably sleepy. The entire atmosphere discourages reporterly activities like asking for color quotes, tallying entrances and exits, and the like.
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