The Cards Speak

Serve Beer. This is a must read for anyone interested in playing poker for life. Incredibly intelligent, this guy needs to come and speak at my next bachelor party.

My Obsession with 9-4 Off.

9-4 off has been lighting me up again. I was playing a freeroll, taking a moment to work on my Money for Nothin' stake before heading down to help clean the poker room, and I caught 9c 4d. A couple of Friday Night Poker regulars were hanging out, and we had been joking about my previous 'lucky hands' so everyone stopped to watch the fun. Not only had I gotten terrible cards, but I was first to act. Knowing full well that I was making a mistake, I called them. Some joker playing from position raised over top, but it was cheap, and it's a good move when everyone else just limps in, so I can't really blame him. I can still call him names, though. I called his raise, too. Now I've got 12 chips in a pot of about 50, and a couple of really crappy cards. You'd think, at this point in my life, I'd be smarter than this.

For those of you that don't know. The freeroll sit-n-go at Everest is a 10 person limit game. The starting stake is 100, blinds start at 1/.50 and go up every 4 minutes. Basically you get 2 hands at every level until most of the players have dropped out. The trend is to auto-raise, as most of the players are inexperienced and aggressive. If you an experienced player, or have at least learned how to fold, it's not difficult to come in the money. The game pays a total of 10 cents, so we're not talking big money action here.

Now I'm sitting on 9-4 off, first to act, with one quarter investment in a pot that is worth half my stake. The flop drops Ah Ts 5c. Oh well, superstition is silly, and it's only a freeroll. I check, the next to act bets, and the player from position raises. As I am positioning the mouse to fold, The Experience leans over my shoulder and says, "What are you doing? You can fill out that straight."

Whatever.

The god that rules the poker table is a trickster. After all that. After foolishly calling cards that I know can't win. After laughing off the loss of stupid money and putting up with the peanut gallery. After chiding myself for treating random coincidence as if there was such a thing as fate, I fold. The god of poker must have a great sense of humor, because at this point he turns to his friends and says, "Wait, wait. Watch this. This will be funny."

The turn is 3s.

The river is 2s.

Son of a bitch.

Money for Nothin': the official rules

O.k. Looks like we've got a couple of takers so I figured I should make some official rules.

The basic idea is simple. See how much money you can make with a start of $0.00. I'm working on Everest Poker, which you can join by clicking on the link. There may be other poker sites that offer the ability to make actual cash on a freeroll. In fact I know that there are multi-tournaments on several other sites that have that available, but Everest is the only one I know of that has a 10 player freeroll sit-n-go that pays actual cash, however insignificant.

One small wrinkle: last night I logged back on to Everest to discover I had five extra cents. I had started the previous day with a $0.00 balance and had won three cents. When I logged on, however, the account had $0.08 in it. I do not know where the extra nickel came from. There is no record of it, but bonus on Everest is paid out in very small increments, so I suspect this is bonus of some sort. I made an effort to correct the error, but it didn't work out. In response to this I've decided on a bonus rule that allows it to be used for play, but not be included as part of the final competition. I don't think it will make much difference in the long run, and it would be impossible to correct for in any case.

Say, for instance, Peek buys in to a no limit ring game with his entire stake of $25 and plays for several hours. Then, in his drunken stupor, he goes all in and loses everything. Back in the lobby he discovers he now has $0.57 in bonus earned from that session. It is unreasonable to expect him to not use that money to start over again. His statistics, however, would put him at zero. I'll still be keeping track of the bonus by default, simply due to the difference between the total account and the amount won.

However, now I need a vote. Do I keep the twenty cents gained by that extra nickel I discovered yesterday, or is it forfeit because I've made this new rule adjustment. Anyone who pipes in gets a vote. I'll break a tie if necessary.

Here, finally, are the official rules:

1. You must start with $0.00 in the account. You may not add money to the account at any time. All wins and losses played on your chosen online poker provider must be included in your statistics. So make sure you use a poker-room other that your favorite. The one I chose is Everest Poker. You can use two different sites if you want to and your total winnings will be added together.
2. You should report all wins and losses. I will be keeping track of statistics as well as final amounts. Simply email me occasionally a list including: Poker-room, game played (SnG, Multi, or Ring), buy in amount, fee amount (for tourneys), number of players (or seats for ring games), what you placed (tourney only), the amount you won (or left with for ring games), the current balance of your account(s), and, if possible, the approximate amount of time played. To do this, send an email to me here. Remember to report all games, even the freerolls you lost.
3. Bonus. Bonus does not count toward player statistics, and does not count for the final tally. However, you are allowed to use bonus for play. It will be tracked separately.

Here are the stats as they stand so far:

Name:	Current Winnings:	Player Percent:	Win Percent:	Average per Game:	Average per Hour:	Bonus:
T.F.B.	?$0.08?	?23%?	?67%?	?$0.03?	?$0.04?	???
Xavryn	$0.05	10%	100%	$0.05	no data	$0.00
Shiny	$0.02	30%	100%	$0.02	no data	$0.00

Cigar Jack's Flavor Wheel

I've been smoking since I was 16. Surprisingly enough I didn't start with cigarettes, I started with cigars. Back in the day we'd smoke whatever we could con the gas station attendant into selling us, or the stogies we managed to swipe from our fathers. I was in college before I developed any kind of palate. By no means an aficionado, I decided I prefer maduro tobacco and a cooler smoke. For some reason, I also prefer the tapered cigars: curly-heads, torpedoes, and pyramids. That may just be a Freudian thing, however.

Recently I came across an excellent cigar blog, Cigar Jack. There is some good writing, and great reviews, in the archives, but the best info Jack ever provided went up earlier this month. It's a cigar tasting wheel.

It may look simplistic, but this is the best tool for the cigar lay-enthusiast since the invention of the wooden match. Jack states, "This should help you identify the flavors in a cigar easier," but it does so much more. It lets you identify the cigar you want to smoke. Chose the flavors you like, match them with the descriptive on the interior and start browsing the shelves. No longer faced with trying to guess what the two sentence description provided by the seller is trying to say, now I know "A very smooth earthy smoke with notes of cedar and a light espresso flavor," is a cigar that I am interested in, and "Floral overtones with a strong citris finish," is not.

"Twenty minutes of sweet followed by a robust climatic finish," sounds like Sunday afternoon sex with a couple of sorority girls. Who wouldn't be interested in that?

Money for Nothin', chips for free.

The 9-4 off did it to me again. Not as dramatic as the first time, but this time it was first thing out of the gate. There is no reason to call that thing, and yet...

I've got to remember to play that stupid hand if it's cheap. Just in case.

I decided to go a little crazy and put myself to a bit of a test. I pulled all my cash off of Everest. I'm going to start from $0.00. See where it can take me. Everest offers a freeroll sit-n-go. Ten person limit; blinds go up every 4 minutes. On a Sunday afternoon you can't get a seat, but at 1 am Tuesday morning it's not that hard.

The first hand on the first of the freerolls I catch 9s 4c. I fold it, of course, and you can see the result. A few hands later I watch the chipleader chase something to the river until he has pulled the stack in front of the raiser down to 3 chips. The blinds are 3-6 at this point so three is not even a full bet on the river. The pot sits in the mid 90s. The raiser puts his three chips in. The chipleader folds. He didn't call a bet of 3 on a pot of 100. He is an idiot. Game 219202482.

I end that one in fourth.

Fold your way to victory. I think that may be the key. The blinds go up rapidly. The bets seem to be on auto-raise. Make a nest-egg early, if you can. Once the blinds start going up, wait out the idiots. The next game plays out almost perfectly.

9h Td off, flops a 6s 8h Qd. It's not going anywhere, particularly not with a 3h on the turn, but it's the first hand so the price is cheap, and technically it's an outside draw. Js on the river brings it all together and late position means I can bring the pot up a little. Second hand the blinds are still low, and 9s 5s seems almost reasonable, particularly when the flop drops 3c 6c 4h. 2d on the turn and I'm feeling pretty good. I bet it, and at this point anyone paying attention should be folding. Instead a couple raise back at me. 9h on the river helps no one but me. Oh yeah, and one other guy that splits the pot with me. There's always got to be one.

Now is the time to adopt the 'fold your way to victory' lifestyle. It's easy enough to do with the 9 3 off. Wouldn't you know it, the flop presents a pair of 3s and I miss out on another earner. Blinds have gone up, though, and Ac 8c with 2d 6h 8d on the flop presents a tough choice. The turn brings a King and I'm out. Hopefully this little run of cards has cooled, cause it's getting more expensive to play the draw. Yep, someone stays in with a 6 8 off and would have had me. Definitely time to back off the trigger a bit.

Sixth hand we have our first all in. On a pair of deuces, no less. He loses to the pair of sevens, which is mildly ironic. The four minute blind with ten at the table means we get two hands per level if we're lucky. Auto-raising seems to be a way of life down here. I'm at 150 and the big blind just passed. Blinds are 5-10. Now let's see what waiting can do. Only three people have heavy stacks, and I'm in third.

It's the tenth hand. Three are all in and it's the chipleader that wins. Big Slick. Now there are five; third pays. By the time the blind gets back around to me it's doubled, and I'm in the money.

30 hands later with a halfway decent player and I'm up $0.03. I'm not sure the extra penny was worth the wait. I think the key is to push aggressive once you're in the money. If you can catch a couple of cards you can maybe go for the nickel, but otherwise just get out and start a new game.

Three cents; I'm on my way. Anyone else interested in trying to build a poker stake from scratch, let me know. I'll post a chart of our progress. If I can con Shiny or Fancyhands into it, I'll get them to pipe in, too.

Carbon Burn the Cowboy Leg.

Check out this interesting menu. Although I'm always interested in new and exciting dishes, I think I'll pass on the "Carbon burns black bowel (A)". The "Fuck the salt (beautiful pole) duck chin" sounds interesting though, and "Lthick mordacity" is a fantastic name for a restaurant if I ever heard one. Special thanks to Enrico Palazo.

Unicorns, Leprechauns, and Steak & Kidney Pie

There are few cultures in the world that give us more pervasive myths that the British. Confused teens dance cry 'druid' and dance in sky-clad circles to the beat of the socially awkward drum, and Loch Ness is oversold while Area 51 continues its tourist dollar slump. Small wonder when Empire de Britannia once covered half the Western World, and all of the Eastern one. Pound Sterling is King, but his reign is based on a pack of lies. My wife and I took a trip to London last week, and I feel it's time to debunk some of the most powerful British legends since Arthur bent Gwen over the table round.

There is no such thing as Steak & Kidney Pie. It doesn't exist, at least not in London. Go ahead. Ask for it. Every barman I spoke with hemmed and hawed and speculated as to the availability of this elusive treasure in some forgotten northern county, but not one managed to produce. In fact, most pubs offer 'pie of the day' of a flavor identical to the offering at every other pub. As corporate UK apparently discovered the value of the four pound pint years ago, every local is the now the subsidiary of a few High Street entrepreneurs. You'll still find Proper English Breakfast, and Fish & Chips complete with fresh frozen mushy peas, but there is no percentage in sweetbread. Steak & Kidney Pie has gone the way of the Dodo.

Other myths abound. Their teeth are fine, as is the food. Despite what John Cleese has said in the past, they are not all that repressed. One of the most evil tales, however, seems pitched to keep the bastards out, much as Iceland earned its moniker.

Beer is not served warm. Who has been taking this proverbial piss, anyway? Whoever he is, he's been having us on. For Harry's sake, most beer containers sport 'best served chilled', as if the English brewer fears his own countryman to simple to pop the bottle in the icebox. While only a couple of the restaurants actually pulled out the frosty mug, malted beverages are served significantly below room temperature. The British understand that warm is for tea and cold is for beer, despite rumors to the contrary.

In fact, I met a monger grinding his rumor mill outside the Tate Modern last week. A young Dutch gentleman with a tape deck and a cock and bull story about 'research' pushed into our conversation with his little microphone and asked us how we felt about the foreigners. Surprisingly enough, my wife whipped out her best public school accent and informed him that most were fine, but what we really couldn't stand were the pushy Americans. While this may skew the numbers on his thesis, it finally put to rest the myth that the English are the only ones with a dry sense of humor.

On Average, That Fat Bastard Would Sell Out For

$983,755 Just in case you were wondering.

At What Price Would You Sell Out?

Pimping with Pride

Finally, the world has embraced what That Fat Bastard has always known: The Pimp is the Thing.

Far too often your friendly neighborhood Pimp has gotten a bad rap from the Culture Police. They raise the specter of illegality, object to the objectification of women, and feign injury over the occasional drive-by shooting, while completely missing the point. Gone is the misleading image of a violent jerk that enslaves unwilling women in an illegal sex-trade. The Pimp is cool. The Pimp is style. The Pimp is everything we, as self-important free-market capitalists yearning to breath free, want to be.

The Pimp is America.

Thankfully, due to recent changes in cultural iconology embracing the work begun by J. J. Walker, Antonio Fargas, and Rick James, Pimp is not just another name for your baby's daddy. Pimp is a definition of style, and a goal to be reached. Pimp is something you can strive for. You can Pimp your ride, Pimp your crib, or purchase Pimpin' threads. If you're stuck working for the Man, you can even Pimp your cubicle. In fact, if you own it, do it, wear it, smoke it, suck it, play it, blog it, name it, time it, dress it, or drink it, you can Pimp it.