Tuesday Morning at the Felt

I'll be honest with you. I've been feeling crappy all week, and Jessi and I are headed to London next Wednesday, and the last thing I need is to be sick on vacation, so I took a day off to relax. That's not the honest part. The honest part is that I'll be playing online poker the whole time, and I've been thinking about taking a day off to do that anyway.

I started at Everest Poker. I had about $12 on the account there. (Like I said, we're going to London next week so I pulled most of my stake off for spending money.) I signed up for the Chip & a Chair multi, sat down at a $5+$.50 six seat no-limit sit & go, and put $5 on a $.10 no-limit ring game to kill time while I waited for the tournaments to start. I couldn't catch crap on the regular table, so I was down to $4.55 once the other two tables were up and running. No big whoop.

The sit & go started first. I was big blind with QJ off, and caught top pair on the flop, so I bet the pot and showed my hand when the table crapped out. Then I played tighter then my prom date until I felt I had established a rep.

The multi I played the other way. I played loose the first couple of hands and pressed a crappy draw with just a couple of callers. I missed the draw, of course, and the guy that stuck it out won with a middle pair of sevens. This paid off immediately, as two hands later I caught top two pair and check raised on the flop. Here's the thing. If you've got Four Tits, and the flop shows you both of the only two overcards available, and someone check raises into you, don't call. I don't care how loose he may have been a couple of hands back, he's got it, and you're going down like a Chi Omega at a late night mixer. This hand tripled me up. You have got to love Big Slick.

With a decent stake on the multi, I devoted my time to the sit & go again. I purchased a couple of blinds on my reputation while I marked the guys that were going to stake me to the finish. You know the ones I mean. They start out loose and fast, and because there are a couple of them at the table, one of them builds an early stake. At this point the chipleader should change his play, but he can't. He's too excited by winning, and he's positive he's a better player than everyone else. He must be. Look at all the chips he's got.

I marked the guy sitting opposite, let's call him Ivan, as a likely target. He was up to 175 and just kept putting on the pressure. He particularly liked to purchase from position. So, when I caught pocket rockets in mid-field I just called them, knowing Ivan would take care of me. True to form he bet the pot from position. I raised over top to get any other stragglers off the board. Now here is where Ivan made his second mistake, his first being taking a seat at the table. He re-raised over top of me and pushed me all in! I have just established that I'm not going to be bullied with what is effectively a check-raise. What asinine thought process makes pushing me all in look like a good idea? Does he think I'm going to fold under the pressure? This is the reason Ivan, and all his brethren, make good playing partners. They assume everyone plays just as crazy as they do. Needless to say, the idiot had K3 off, doubled me up, and whimpered off into the morning a hand or two later, mumbling under his breath about the fat bastard that gets lucky with a lousy pair of Aces. Moron.

At this point the game played out pretty much as expected. With half the chips on the table, and five players left, I loosened up a little and let a couple of righteous draws feed my pile while the shorter stacks battled it out for second. Once there were just the two of us I got even looser and raised any face card pre-flop until he caught on. At that point I switched back and let him try and bully me back until I caught the right cards. One Pocket pair of Kings and it was all over.

At this point I switched back to the multi. I was up to 700, with 30 players left out of the original 200. Now the blinds switched to 15/30 with a 2.50 ante. Here is where I start to have a problem. This late in a tourney I'm a big fan of tightening up and letting the other players beat themselves. With an ante, however, it is no longer free to simply sit and wait. This provides an added pressure that, quite frankly, I don't need. I stuck around on some stupid connectors because of the pressure until I realized what I was doing, then tightened back up again. At this point, however, it was too late. My stack was cut in half when I caught a pocket pair at small blind. One all-in and the multi was over. I was in the money, but that's not saying much when the buy-in is just a dollar. Oh well, it was much needed practice. I definitely need to work on my ante game.

Now my account is at $28.60 and it's time for lunch. Better then double isn't bad for 11 am.

The Passing of The Old Man

It is with sadness and respect that That Fat Bastard salutes Darren McGavin, who died Saturday at the age of 83. Best know for his portrayal of The Old Man in A Christmas Story, Mr. McGavin epitomized everything that symbolizes That Fat Bastard.

On that note, I thought I'd take a moment to explain what it means to be That Fat Bastard. We all know someone who qualifies. He's the guy who's always there, drinking at the bar, playing at the poker table, or just hanging out with the boys. Even if you don't know his name, you recognize him. He's boisterous, loud, and obnoxious in a friendly manner. He's got blue-collar tastes, but can hang with the champagne crowd. There is a beautiful girl on his arm, and no one knows how she got there. He's not famous; he's never the celebrity, but he's the B-list sidekick that helps the A-list shine. The details may differ from bastard to bastard, but you'll know him when you see him. He's Friar Tuck. He's Lou Costello. He's Danny Devito. He's Darren McGavin.

If you had seen him on the street you would have recognized Mr. McGavin. You may not have said anything at the time, but later on, over a couple of beers, you'd have bragged to your friends that you'd run into the dad from that Chirstmas movie. "You know, the movie with the BB gun and that leg lamp. What was his name?"

Although he's remembered for that role, Mr. McGavin played a lot more than just The Old Man. His career spanned 50 years, as well known characters from Mike Hammer to Kolchak, and he worked with house-hold names like Bob Hope, Steven Spielberg, Adam Sandler, and Frank Sinatra.

So we at That Fat Bastard salute Darren McGavin. Here's to The Old Man!

She Wants Revenge

Last night my wife and I went to Cat's Cradle to see She Wants Revenge. I've been recommending the album to anyone that would listen, and will supplement that by adding the live show to the "Hell Yes!" list.

Originally scheduled to be the opener, someone must have switched up the schedule at the last minute. First on stage was Rock Kills Kid, out of Los Angeles. They've got nice drive. While not what we were there for, the music was enjoyable and danceable, and Jessi and I got started with both. She Wants Revenge ended up playing second. They should have been headlining, considering the airplay they've been getting on Sirius, and the recent Letterman appearance, but the date had been scheduled months in advance, and this way I got to go home early and make sweet, if sweaty, love down by the fire. The set lasted about an hour; all the tunes came straight from the album. Considering the album has only been out a couple of weeks, this is not necessarily a bad thing. They finished with the crowd pleaser "Tear You Apart", a driving, post-punk take on high school romance. The only disappointment was that "Monologue", my current favorite from the album, was missing from the playlist. I'm sure I'll get over it.

The music was non-stop, with few comments from the band between songs, other than occasional one-liners from DJ Adam 12 (Adam Bravin) filling a couple of short breaks for technical considerations. Besides his comic timing, Adam's ability with the keyboard and guitar is phenomenal, as well. The eerie "Disconnect" providing a superb counterpoint to the rest of the driving performance. Frontman Justin Warfield provides "rough-sex poetry" that is intense and raw, combining cutting vocals with superb lyrics. The set was more than just a recap of the album, it was an extension of their musical philosophy, and an introduction to an enthusiastic audience. Definitely a must see; Jessi and I will make a point of going anytime they are in town.

Guns & Ammo

Yes, everyone is doing it. Making fun of Vice President Cheney's recent hunting accident is an easy way to get a laugh. Forgive me, but that is basically shooting ducks in a barrel. However, despite the media's exhaustive coverage of the slowness of the White House response, and the pundits exhausting pontificating, the important points of this particular accident seem to have been missed.

In fact, the closest one to the mark so far has been Janet Shamlian of NBC. She noted, in one of her articles, how hunting takes the place of golf for the Good Ol' Boys. She even quoted a couple of 'em regarding the social necessity of skill with the 12 gauge, as opposed to the 9 iron, for Texas businessmen.

"I frequently take clients on hunting trips," says Bill Swisher, a securities industry executive in Dallas. "I can learn a great deal about an individual while hunting."

For god's sake, does the media need it handed to them on a platter. The point of this incident is not that Big Dick didn't tell the media. It's not even that he shot a lawyer, funny as that may be. The lesson we, as citizens of the richest republic in the world, should be taking away from this ribald occurrence is what we have learned about the Vice President's character.

First of all, the lawyer in question is no taller than 6', maybe 6'2". At 30 yards, or even 30 feet, the fact that Dickie got him mainly in the chest indicates that the gun was being held with no upward inclination when the trigger was fired. In fact, in his interview, the VP stated, "There was a little bit of a gully there, so he was down a little ways before land level." In other words, the Big Dick was aiming at the ground. What kind of unsporting ass shoots quail on the ground? You might as well hunt chickens at that point.

Secondly, George W's junior stated, "I didn't see it at the time I shot, until after I'd fired." So the Vice President of the United States of America appears to be comfortable pulling the trigger without actually checking where the weapon is pointing. Considering the situation in Iraq at the moment, I guess this is old news.

And finally, in the words of the ever wise Xavryn, the American Liberal News Media reported that Cheney's demeanor at dinner that night was "worried." If it had been anyone else, the demeanor after shooting a friend in the face would have been, "at the hospital, eating out of a vending machine."

Ambushed

I am adding a new t-shirt to the Warehouse. Cafe Press just started offering a black t-shirt, and I have just the art for it. A celebration of our great nation. I really like the fact that the 'am' and the 'ed' are invisible from a distance. Makes for a nice statement. I had done the graphic months ago, I just had nowhere to put it. It doesn't work the same on white.

There was a request for a Mr. Anderson wife-beater, the other day. Apparently, Cafe Press is not currently offering a classic men's wife-beater. A soon as they do I'll let you know.

Nuer Sawan: Heavenly Beef

There are times in your life that you will remember forever, even though they contain no life changing events. Moments that are nothing special by themselves, but which contain some item, some object, some action, some thing that makes an impermiable impression. One of my moments is the one in which I tasted the greatest snack food ever invented: Heavenly Beef. It's the coriander that makes it.

Ingredients:

1 lb lean beef

2 ts ground coriander seeds

1/2 ts ground cumin - coarse

1 tbs fish sauce

1/2 c sugar

3 tbs rice wine

Directions:

1. Slice the beef thin. Use a slicer if you've got one. Get the butcher to do it. We're talking really thin here. Potato chip thin.
2. Mix all other ingredients until smooth. This is the marinade. Marinade the beef in it. If you don't have enough to cover everything use more rice wine. If you use more than a half cup of wine then you are doing it wrong. Marinade at least overnight, but not more then 3 days. 20 minutes will be fine if you are in a rush.
3. Dry the beef. Use a paper towel to wipe off the excess marinade first. Then dry it somehow. Most Thai cookbooks* recomend putting it on wire racks and "drying it in the sun." This makes me think of flies. I use one of those food dehydrator things you can buy in the middle of the night. The Thai cookbooks** warn against over drying, but I haven't had any problem yet. I'll let you know if I do.
4. Fry the beef. I have heard that a Fry Daddy is good for this, but I can't confirm or deny this. Use peanut or some other sort of vegetable oil, as olive oil can't cook it hot enough. About 1/4 of oil in the frying pan heated until it just shimmers, if you decide to go that route. Keep the oil hot enough to fry without getting the beef to greasy. Set aside on paper towels to drain.

Serves 4-6, cool, 1-2 still warm.

* At least that's what I've been told they say. I don't actually read Thai.
** Again, so I've been told.