Well, Pauly was nice enough to link me up, I see. If that doesn't lead to new eyeballs who knows what will.
Too bad I'm all done for the day after bursting into flames in fourth place in the Mookie. For those keeping track at home, that's four final tables in seven attempts with no TOC seat yet. Winning plenty of money never felt so frustrating.
Still, new guests shouldn't have a silly LOST April Fool's joke to stare at, so let me tidy up around here while I work on the next Stupid/System chapter.
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Let's talk about rude people at the BBT3, shall we? That's a popular topic these days.
First, some people have been talking about not playing any more because of all the tomfoolery and scuttlebutt, to say nothing of the shenanigans. These are kind people. Good people. Respected people. Sometimes all three.
They don't want to play any more. It's not fun.
I guess I am of two minds about this.
My first mind says, grow up and behave yourselves you silly, silly humans. You want to spout off in the chat? Go peddle your wares elsewhere. Go to Facebook and poke each other. You do realize, don't you, that Sir Al went through not inconsiderable trouble to set up this awesome series for us, for no compensation beyond the enjoyment and support of community. If "enjoyment" and "support" and "community" don't mean anything to you, leave this fine thing to those who do. When you're playing a BBT event, you'd do well to consider yourself a guest in Al's house (and Hoy's or Chad's or Don's or Mookie's), at a really slamming party with great door prizes. Don't relieve yourself in the foyer, and don't steal all the good beer and replace it with the Beast. If I were Al (and, in a perfect world, I would be), I'd be having serious thoughts about the worth of putting together a BBT4 sometime in 2009.
Let's hope it doesn't come to that. But don't kill the goose, you fanciers you. Don't kill it! It lays golden eggs. And golden eggs? They make fluffy and delicious golden omelets.
My second mind says, this is manageable. My friends, don't leave! Not you! Leaving is not the solution! And for serious, there's a solution. A mute button. Don't shut off ALL chat. Just shut off the chat of anybody who's punking, and leave it off. Do it ruthlessly, immediately, and with no fanfare. And don't tell me it's everybody at the table making with the mean. I haven't sat at any of those tables. Bottom line? If there's a troll, use the individual chat off function. Everybody reading this . . . do it. Just chat off. Soon there will be no feedback for the troll, and feedback is what a troll feeds on. Boom. Solved. Or at least . . . solve-ish-ed.
Observer chat . . . well, I can't answer that. But I tend to just let scum slide off the skillet; that's just me. We knew that all this overlay would bring a lot of people running, and we can't be naive enough to think that everybody would play pat-a-cake ("Pat-a-cake" here means basic social niceties). The FDA allows a certain amount of insect waste into every box of breakfast cereal, but I still eat my Cheerios. I guess that's how I look at this; I barely register the bug turds in our burritos. It would be nice if Full Tilt would let us turn off chat of individual observers too, I suppose. But can't we just ignore the junk and have big fun anyway? That's my plan. Ignoring is the poor man's 'chat off'.
What I'm saying is this: come back to the five and dime, GCox, GCox.