Friday, September 25, 2009

Friday Is Kids In The Hall Day

In Vegas next week, so I'll probably skip a KITH Friday next week.

But I'm making it up to you. I'm leaving you with one of the best skits ever.

AND two clips, from the master of funk . . . and EVIL.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Mookie Tonight

Full Tilt
password: vegas1
$10 + $1
10:00 PM EST


Git in there and have some pokery bloggery fun!

No excuses. That means you. Yeah, you.

Friday, September 18, 2009

If You Have A Truck, You'd Best Go Truckin'

Bloggers, there's a new edition of Truckin' out. So truck on over there and truck with that.


1. Tangerine Rockets by Paul McGuire
Lennie was an international legend. His father walked away from a plane crash and passed along some of those good luck genes over to Lennie.... More

2. The Red Pill by Sigge S. Amdal
She dropped the face and began to cry, as tensions rose around me. The waiters stopped waiting tables, people stopped talking; they were just exchanging knowing glances and judgmental comments... More

3. Fine Tuning by Milton T. Burton
He looked perplexed. I slipped my hand beneath my coat, came out with the little silenced .22 Magnum auto, and shot him right in the center of the forehead. The hollow-point bullet exited the back of his skull, making a colorful little jet of blood and brains as it went... More

4. On Scoring by Human Head
One look at the eyeliner, eyebrows, gold hoops and herringbone chains, and I knew this was the Angel we were supposed to see. As she drew closer to the door, the tattoo's left little doubt. She didn't say anything. She just looked at me... More

5. The Joys of Gambling by Johnny Hughes
Saratoga Springs, New York in August was the gambling capital of America in the 1920s, with the horses, the spa waters, large and ornate casinos, and America's wealthiest citizens in a gilded age, when money and wine were treated like water... More

Friday Is Kids In The Hall Day

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Meet The Final Table 009: Jeff Shulman

And finally I am done and still alive. I would like to thank my bodyguards for keeping me safe from nefarious forces dedicated to preventing the truth from being known, my family for their love and support, and Dr. Pauly for all the links.

Let's go.


Name: Jeff Shulman

Age: 41

Occupation: Garbage Man.

Nickname: Mary.

Poker Style: Almost unbelievably tight.

Alignment: Lawful Evil.

Card Capper: Oscar the Grouch bobblehead.

Favorite Country Song: Smells Like Teen Spirit, by Pearl Jam

Brief Bio: Jeff isn't your average garbage man. That's a guy who picks up your garbage and throws it in a big truck, which he then drives to the dump. That's not Jeff. No, Jeff runs a specialty garbage man operation. He throws stuff away for you at a reasonable (but still professional) rate. He comes to your place, he scopes it out, and he selects a few key items that you'd really be better without. In the trash they go! He tosses your crap in style, too. He doesn't just heave your refuse over his shoulder, no, no, no, no, no, no. He tosses each piece of trash into a personally-arranged trash can, specially picked to make sure that the junk in question is given its most perfect setting.

You name it, he's thrown it away. Lamps (lava and regular), nuclear reactors, Jimmy Hoffa, old comic books, VHS seasons of ALF and "Small Wonder", Busta Rhymes' career, uncomfortable couches, unlucky pennies, buckets full of nuts without bolts, some coffee grounds and wood, birthday presents you forgot you had, wicker hammocks, missing pages of the Warren Report, a T-bone steak, embarrassing albums you bought in eight grade, Umbro shorts, Michael Jackson zipper pants, and disco.

But he's never thrown away a WSOP bracelet. He hopes to change all that in November. He knows just what a beautiful tinkle that circlet of jewelery would make hitting a hand carved mahoghany dustbin with flared lip and a beveled stand.

It will be his masterpiece of disposal. He'll probably retire afterward, unless he gets the opportunity to chuck the crown jewels of Croatia.

Fun Fact:
Contrary to popular belief, Jeff Shulman is not all that Happy.

Previous Entries

Darvin Moon
James Akenhead
Phil Ivey
Kevin Schaffel
Steve Begleiter
Eric Buchman
Joe Cada
Antoine Saout

Monday, September 14, 2009

Meet The Final Table 008: Antoine Saout

We're in the home stretch. Once again, these are the real stories of the November Nine, all of whom I know very well.


Name: Antoine Saout

Age: 67

Occupation: Mime.

Nickname: Nunkle.

Poker Style: Calling station. Also an answering station. His draws fill without outs. He once lost to running cards with flopped quads, just to see what it felt like. That's right. He's the Most Interesting Poker Player In The World.

Alignment: Extra good.

Card Capper: His elbow.

Favorite Country Song: I Flushed You From The Toilets Of My Heart , by Jack Clement.

Brief Bio: Born in Nice and educated in Paris, Antoine is regarded by all in the extensive and influential miming community to be probably the very worst mime in the history of anything. He actually can't even successfully hail a cab. He couldn't walk against the wind in a hurricane. The box he's pretending to be trapped in is visible, and made of cardboard. His face is a painted extravagance of puckish horrowshow whimsy that makes all who view it want to murder him. OK, that last one is pretty much all mimes. But believe me when I tell you, that Antoine Saout is the mime's mime. He's horrid.

"How is he so rich then?" you might ask me, if you knew he was rich. It's simple. Antoine invented the Macarena in the early nineties. He was trying to eat a baguette with le fromage on it at the time, but his total lack of la coordinatione, coupled with his tragic inability to communique with hommes and la femmes of any nationalitez, conspired to make him look like he was having le grande trop tard mal seizure.

Fortunately, there were a bunch of drunk touristes watching this, and le horrifying dance craze was born. Antoine, while pathetique at his craft, was smart enough to get le marque du trade, and cleaned up, netting over 30 million francs, which are like dollars, but with pretty colors and not owned by the Chinese. He got into cards about seven years ago, when he realized that as an incompetent mime, his tells were totally confusing to anyone unfortunate enough to be in a hand with him. All he had to do was try to represent what he actually had, and they'd get it wrong every time.

His debt to humanity will never be repaid, however, not just for inventing the herpes of dances, but also just for being a mime, the most hated of all types of anything ever, including Kanye West. Most of his chips he got through the disqualification of his opponents, as often just sitting next to a player from Texas and wiggling his penciled-on mime eyebrows has been enough to get him throat-punched. Happily, Antoine is well-prepared with a stainless steel throat visor, and has emerged unscathed.

And save your comments. If you don't know that you can turn a word French by adding le or la or les at the front and then tossing some frou-frou letters onto the back, then you never got a C+ in remedial high school French, for four years in a row.

Fun Fact:
As a child, Antoine was the inspiration for Brainy Smurf, Baker Smurf, and Smurfette. (All other Smurfs were, as is generally known, based on Richard Nixon.)

Previous Entries

Darvin Moon
James Akenhead
Phil Ivey
Kevin Schaffel
Steve Begleiter
Eric Buchman
Joe Cada

Friday, September 11, 2009

Friday Is Kids In The Hall Day

I think it's time for this madness from the mind of McCullough.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Chat Fun 001: The ******ongible

Every so often, I win a hand. Usually this is due to luck of the one-or-two outer variety. When this happens, I will often get told a few things about myself that the victim of my bad play doesn't think I know yet.

Every so often, I decide to play with this person.

This is one of those times.

So this guy was playing every hand and going to the felt with any Ace rag unimproved. Naturally, he had lots of chips. I was playing as many cheap pots as I could with him. I called his 3x button raise from the bb with J8o and got the dream flop JJx. Long story short I milked a big pot out of by letting him fire three bullets with AQ, and it helped that an A hit the river.

The following conversation ensued. Names have not been changed because nobody is innocent.

CAPELANEZ $$ said, "crazy people"

Julius_Goat said, "yeah"

CAPELANEZ $$ said, "idiot to"

Julius_Goat said, "probably, yeah" <------ ready to let it go, I've been there before

Julius_Goat said, "nh"

CAPELANEZ $$ said, "i dont thing so, J 8 off is a shame" <----------- Julius_Goat decides to have fun

Julius_Goat said, "I hate to break it to you buddy, but you are the mark at this table"

CAPELANEZ $$ said, "what marh\k? what it means?\"

Julius_Goat said, "it's kind of like a ******ongle"

CAPELANEZ $$ said, "like a what??"

Julius_Goat said, "a ******ongle"

CAPELANEZ $$ said, "it dont get it"

Julius_Goat said, "it certainly don't"

CAPELANEZ $$ said, "idiot, its not showing"

Julius_Goat said, "what isn't?"

Julius_Goat said, "******ongle?"

Julius_Goat said, "shows for me"

Julius_Goat said, "check your language settings"

CAPELANEZ $$ said, "a****ongable"

CAPELANEZ $$ said, "i aint no mark,"

CAPELANEZ $$ said, "what ever"

Julius_Goat said, "maybe not, but you are for SURE a *******ongle"

Julius_Goat said, "I bet there is video evidence"

CAPELANEZ $$ said, "lol, video evidence?"

Julius_Goat said, "5:1 odds there is"

Julius_Goat said, "******ongling is often captured in low quality video"

AlamedaSteve said, "pretty sure I saw it on youtube."

Julius_Goat said, "oh yeah, it was big with the kids back in 2005 and early 2006"

Julius_Goat said, "like mentoes in coke"

*** SHOW DOWN ***
Dr.Fritz4000: shows [7c Tc] (a full house, Tens full of Sevens)
CAPELANEZ $$: shows [2d Th] (three of a kind, Tens)
Dr.Fritz4000 collected 3682 from pot
*** SUMMARY ***
Total pot 3682 | Rake 0
Board [4c Td 9c Ts 7s]
Seat 1: Julius_Goat folded before Flop (didn't bet)
Seat 2: gutterbound folded on the Turn
Seat 3: josrey85 folded on the Flop
Seat 4: malafia folded before Flop (didn't bet)
Seat 5: Dr.Fritz4000 showed [7c Tc] and won (3682) with a full house, Tens full of Sevens
Seat 6: AlamedaSteve folded on the Flop
Seat 7: All Donk (button) folded before Flop (didn't bet)
Seat 8: latinpo (small blind) folded on the Flop
Seat 9: CAPELANEZ $$ (big blind) showed [2d Th] and lost with three of a kind, Tens

Julius_Goat said, "look, Fritz, if I'm going to go to all the trouble of getting the guy tilted, you should be a mencsh and let me have his chips"

Julius_Goat said, "fair's fair"

AlamedaSteve said, "and Cape was wearing a mask, but pretty sure it was him."

Dr.Fritz4000 said, "i think he would give them away regardless"

CAPELANEZ $$: bets 353 and is all-in
Julius_Goat: folds
Uncalled bet (353) returned to CAPELANEZ $$

Julius_Goat said, "see I called that raise as a gift, ******ongle"

Dr.Fritz4000 said, "but thanks for the help"

Julius_Goat said, "now T2 is a GREAT hand"

Julius_Goat said, "unlike J8"

Julius_Goat said, "which is shameful"

Julius_Goat said, "mark mark mark mark mark mark"

CAPELANEZ $$ said, "idiot, spell this f****ogable **** , dont know what means, its not showing"

Julius_Goat said, "I'm telling you I AM spelling it"

Julius_Goat said, "I don't see any ***** whatever it is"

Julius_Goat said, "check your language settings man"

AlamedaSteve said, "shows for me too, he must have the pokerstars filter setup."

CAPELANEZ $$ said, "time twice, the letters stupid"

Julius_Goat said, "right, go to your menu and choose "show unfiltered language""

Julius_Goat said, "I'm typing the letters, not typing any ***"

AlamedaSteve said, "uncheck the box."

Julius_Goat said, "right, just uncheck the box"

Julius_Goat said, "forgot they added a box"

AlamedaSteve said, "its just new yesterday i think."

Julius_Goat said, "huh, right, I'd never noticed it before"

AlamedaSteve said, "Cape, contact the Mod for help."

[And now the punchline]

Moderator78 [Moderator]: When contacting a Moderator please express your concerns clearly and in English. This way we can best help you.

Moderator78 [Moderator]: Thank you.

Moderator78 [Moderator]: Hello again. There is no way to reverse the chat filter. If another player's chat is bothering you, you can always right-click on that player's icon and select the "block chat" option.

Moderator78 [Moderator]: Take care and good luck.

Julius_Goat: Cape, I hope you didn't call the Moderator an ******ongle

I would love to see the message he sent to the mod.

Monday, September 7, 2009

Meet The November Nine 007: Joe Cada

Unbelievably (if you haven't yet heard) I have close personal knowledge of each member of the November Nine for a second straight year. Even more unbelievably, the lawyers at Harrah's Entertainment have contacted me and told me that they are backing down. They're even calling off the hit men, if they can. I don't know who is doing me a favor, or what privileged star decided to shine on me, but I'm making the most of it. I'll be burning off the bios of the final three members of the final table of the 2009 WSOP Main Event this week, before more vindictive minds prevail and I'm once again running for my life.


Name: Joe Cada

Age: 41

Occupation: Cult Leader, Professional Messiah, Meth Dealer

Nickname: Dad.

Poker Style: Strong, reliant on reads and on the power to hypnotize weaker minds.

Alignment: Well beyond your limited morality.

Card Capper: Nothing at all.

Favorite Country Song: He Went To Sleep and The Hogs Ate Him (Now Claude's Gone Forever) , by Nathan Nathan

Brief Bio: Joseph "Joe" Cada first came to local prominence in the late seventies, when everybody who was anybody was running off and joining up with a cult. Joe saw this trend and realized that he was no joiner, he was a leader. Of course, becoming a cult leader wasn't as difficult then as it is now. These days, you have to do something dramatic to capture the public attention, like weep and go bug-eyed while hosting a cable "news" program. Back then, all you needed to become a pretty decent sweaty-toothed cult leader was a van with shag carpeting and a pony keg of cheap domestic beer. At the precocious age of twelve, Joe started recruiting people to his compound in Blanding, Utah. As a general rule, you need some meat on your bones before you can go Full Koresh, but Joe was a boy with fervor in his heart and a glaze in his look that would curdle a honey ham with envy. Before long he had 90% of the people in the Four Corners region under his thrall, and with those 18 men and women, he began his empire.

His cult is known as "The Folks," a homogenous group of like-thinking fellow non-travellers, and when I joined up back in 1983, Joe stilled lived on the compound with us. We all called him "Dad" and each night, he'd play the acoustic guitar and croon to us around the campfire at night, while feeding us S'Mores dipped in psychotropic agents that remove free will and fashion sense. Luckily, one festering summer day I was sent out on an errand to one of the meth barns and forgot my compass. I got lost in the foothills, and wandered for two days until I fell down a gulley and broke my leg. Happily, I was kept alive by friendly coyotes until finally my leg was healed and the indoctrination and programming were out of my system. But I still remember Dad and his accoustic guitar, strummin', strummin', strummin'. . . To this day, I shudder when I hear Peter Paul and Mary tunes. Also, I'm not so sure that those were coyotes. They may have been Red Cross workers. Look, what I'm saying is this: The drugs were pretty strong.

The Folks are an odd sort of cult, with disparate beliefs based on various random utterances of "Dad," who doesn't believe in all this stuff so much as he feels pressure on him as a cult leader to come up with a teaching or two. As a result, his followers hold as unshakable articles of their faith a strict regimen of gluten-free bran muffins, the use of farm equipment as marital aids, silk robes, wool slippers, daily readings from their Scripture (a Book of Mormon variant called "The Seven-Sixteenths Nephi", which claims, among other things, that Tony the Tiger is the devil), daily affirmations, pinky rings, mixed martial arts, five hours minimum of chanting and/or transcendental meditation, and making and selling as much methamphetamine as they possibly can. They sell methamphetamine to all the trailer parks west of the Colorado river, and are personal retailers to Andy Rooney. The FBI figures the cult's net worth at roughly $700 krackazillion dollars, according to Forbes Magazine. The haul from San Bernadino meth sales alone is enough to buy and maintain a fleet of private jets, and still have enough left over to book Carrot Top for your son's bar mitsvah.

Air conditioning is forbidden on the compound, as are all media, such as television and Internet and Oprah's magazine. A hypocrite to the core, Joe will have none of this. He hangs out in his Tempe, AZ apartment, sipping Scotch, playing Wii, and entertaining some of his favorite female cult members, until he feels he absolutely must pay a visit to the compound in order to hypnotize them some more. That guy is a hypnotic genius. Some say his eyes are a spiraling shape of madness. I don't know, I won't look into them anymore.

Fun Fact:
Joe is as careless with money as he is rich. He never meant to play in the World Series. He bought in thinking he was tipping a hat-check girl, and was too embarrassed to admit his mistake. Now, he stands to make over eight million dollars, or, as he calls it, "walking around money." His lack of interest in the money makes him a cool customer, and a solid shot to win it all. His ability to hypnotize his opponents doesn't hurt, either.

Previous Entries

Darvin Moon
James Akenhead
Phil Ivey
Kevin Schaffel
Steve Begleiter
Eric Buchman

Friday, September 4, 2009

It's Easy Out Here For A Pimp

A few words from non-sponsors.

First, go here to find some awesome LOST-flavored Phish concert tees. Pauly hooked me up with the Bathtub Jin one in the lot before the Camden show, and it is a prized possession.

Second, if you're like me, that would be quite a coincidence. However, it would mean (among other things) that you miss Katitude's Friday Donkament. Well, good news! Good news!

Muchtim is hosting a new $1 Rebuy on Full Tilt at 10:00 PM EST. It's called The Benjover, the password is TalkingGoat, and the play is 100% guaranteed donkeyish.

Go! Go! Go!

Friday Is Kids In The Hall Day

Objectively speaking, this is probably the greatest Kids In The Hall skit ever. Some day I'll draw up an equation that proves it.

The Buddy Cole monologue after ain't bad either.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Meet The November Nine 006: Eric Buchman

I'm back and once again speaking truth to poker. Here's the real story of each of the 2009 November Nine, aka the final table of the WSOP Main Event. Though it is hard to believe, I know each of these men personally.


Name: Eric Buchman

Age: 38

Occupation: Internet poker pro

Nickname: Billy Dee Ass Machine

Poker Style: Aggressive, a whole lot of gamble, loves inside straight draws, loves pocket pairs, which he calls "quad draws."

Alignment: Right justified.

Card Capper: A photograph of Doyle Brunson in a locket, autographed by Dutch Boyd.

Favorite Country Song: The Next Time You Throw That Fryin' Pan, My Face Ain't Gonna Be There , by Nantilly Huckett

Brief Bio: Eric Buchman confirms a rumor that's been gaining a head of steam for the last year or so; to wit: poker isn't just for casinos anymore. You can actually play it on the World Wide Web, aka the Information Superhighway, aka the Twittersphere. In fact, a couple people actually make their livings this way. I know, it's a magical age we live in now. Just wait for the jet packs.

Anyway, Eric's days and most of his nights are spent basking in the ultraviolets of his seven linked flat-screen monitors, where he plays 20 tables at a time, and "pwns" the "donks" and "n00bs" until he "l"s "ol". Everybody's pretty much on the edge of their seat to see if this can finally be the year that an internet qualifier breaks out of the pack of professional players and finally wins the big one, and Eric is just the cat to do it, too. He's responsible for dozens of innovations in online poker, and is a god to the other pros, who revere him and feed his fish for free when he's out of town. Looking up somebody on Sharkscope who just sucked out on you and telling him that his stats are a total joke? That was Eric. Using TeddyKGB in your screen name? Eric. Out-of-focus baby picture avatar on Pokerstars? Eric. Complaining non-stop about the poor level of play in a $10 tournament? All Eric. He's basically defined the Internet game for the last decade or more.

As you might imagine, Eric has been an extremely successful player, racking up profits of millions . . . well, hundreds of thou-- well, I mean thousands, hundr-- he estimates he's probably broken even, just about. It's hard to beat donkeys. But now he's a guaranteed millionaire, and that's exciting no matter how you look at it, especially to his nearest and dearest loan sharks, who he's never seen without. He's already going to be able to keep his head from being put in a vice, and if he going deeper than 9th, and wins more than a million, he'll be able to pay his backers enough of the vig that he'll keep both his thumbs! Poker is a glamorous lifestyle.

Eric is very spiritual, and a strong believer in mantras to help him center himself during a game. His current one is: "HOLD HOLD HOLD HOLD HOLD HOLD HOLD HOLD HOLD HOLD JUST ONE TIME HOLD!!!!"

Fun Fact: In his spare time, Eric renovates vintage cars, collects first generation GI Joe action figures, kills people with a sniper rifle in exchange for money, and plays with Lego blocks. Last year he made a scale model of the Great Wall of China out of Legos! He's really talented.

Previous Entries

Darvin Moon
James Akenhead
Phil Ivey
Kevin Schaffel
Steve Begleiter