Lockdown Loot

About Lockdown Loot

Minnesota energy regulators have cleared the way for a tribal casino to fire up a massive solar array after ruling that its electric utility acted unlawfully by threatening to pull the plug on the property, The Minnesota Star Tribune reports.

The Minnesota Public Utilities Commission (PUC) voted unanimously last week that Minnesota Valley Cooperative Light and Power Association cannot disconnect the Upper Sioux Community’s Prairie’s Edge Casino Resort over its 2.5-megawatt solar project.

Minnesota Valley, a small cooperative utility serving parts of western Minnesota, claimed the 2.5-megawatt array vastly exceeded the 40-kilowatt limit it sets for members. The utility threatened to cut off electricity to the casino if the tribal nation turned the system on.

How to play Lockdown Loot

Elsewhere, there are some superstars of the game who are taking their places lined up behind the leaders in pursuit of poker profit. Canadian poker legend Sam Greenwood comes into the final a little short-stack with 1.9 million chips, but he’s immediately followed by another luminary of the game in Mikita Badziakowski. The Belarussian only has 1.4 million but will be doing everything he can to get over the line. The final table betting prices are slightly different to the order in which the players find themselves in the chipcounts:

As you can see, David Yan has enjoyed the most money being places on him and goes into play as the 4.12 odds favourite. He may have the most money placed on him, but almost double the number of bettors rate the Swedish pro Astedt as a good shot to see out the win for the first time. Sam Greenwood is tempting plenty of punters at odds of 10 and 103 people have invested in the Canadian to upset the chipcounts.

With a massive $452,885 up for grabs to the winner and $349,222 for the runner-up, 9th place will win just $56,610 so expect the competition to be fierce and the action to be fast in the latest GGPoker Super MILLION$ final table.

About Lockdown Loot

For anyone who watched David Letterman or listened to Howard Stern in the last millennium, there was no reason to judge his material firsthand—the pop-culture verdict was already in: Carrot Top was an unfunny prop comic.

For the better part of two decades, both the king of late night and the self‑proclaimed King of All Media leaned heavily into Carrot Top as a recurring punching bag.

Because he relied on props, sported a wild look, and established a dominant Las Vegas presence, he fit perfectly into the “anti-showbiz” persona cultivated by both arbiters of Gen-X cool. Across the 1990s and early 2000s, “Carrot Top” became universal shorthand for lazy, cringeworthy comedy.