In gambling, the house never loses. For every hot streak, there are 30 or 40 or 50 tapped-out losers.

Except in Lincoln — except at the dreary Dogs-N-Slots off Route 146 where the state has been shooting craps with its future and the owners have been caught exceeding their limits.

There is a delicious irony in the falling fortunes of Twin River. The place has been preying on the public, tapping into hard addiction and teasing weakness, for three years. From the floating crap game to the Mirage in Las Vegas, that is what gambling establishments do.

But while trolling for suckers in the backwater of casino gambling, Twin River has been caught, like so many of its patrons, with too little cash on hand.

According to a story on the front page of the Wednesday Journal, Moody’s Investors Service has downgraded Twin River’s rating and cited a high probability of a bankruptcy filing in the near future.

And Standard & Poor’s lowered the rating after the company skipped interest payments on part of the loans it used to buy and expand the facility.

If this was a poker game, Twin River would have a very small stack of chips left.

The place still makes money. There is still a bunch of people with nothing better to do. And judging from the TV commercials, all those people are young and hot and bear none of those sweaty, desperate stains that come from watching the car payment follow the mortgage payment down that deep dark hole.

But Twin River is not making enough money. It is not covering its own bets. It appears that it got into a game that was a little too rich for its corporate wallet.

And the real shocker comes with a walk in the door and a search for those people who seem to fairly dance through Twin River in those TV commercials. There is a near giddy, beach-party quality to their light passage through the place.

But where are they, these lean, laughing, high-living high rollers? Perhaps that elderly guy with the drooping Marlboro and the trancelike fix on the video screen can tell us. If not him, maybe the woman frantically searching for spare change in the seat cushions of her car in the parking lot.

Let’s padlock the place. Put up the Space Available signs, think about a flea market. After all, what Twin River needs most is more losers. And with hard economic times getting even harder, people are losing money without making the drive to Lincoln.

The prospects are not good. A bailout does not seem likely.

But wait. The governor says Twin River must stay open. He says it is in everyone’s best interests.

Ah, yes, one forgets sometimes. Twin River is not just a low-rent casino, a video pretender. It is also a cash cow for the state, one of two establishments that squeeze hard-earned bucks out of people on the state’s behalf. The big loser at Twin River is a big winner for the state.

“Hey, buddy, don’t feel so bad. So you lost your shirt and your car and your wife is probably not going to let you back in the house. But look at it this way — the state snow removal account just got a great big boost.”

The state is demanding its cut. It’s reminiscent of the relationship the mob once had — and may still have — with illegal gambling operations. No excuses, no breaks, just pay up.

But this one’s legal. It’s also crazy.

If there is a message being sent from the bizarre alliance of state government and gambling it is this:

“Lose Baby Lose.”

bkerr@projo.com