Thursday, July 29, 2010

Your Weekly Dose Of Awesome

The Real Dawn Summers thinks that - Tyler Durden style - Astin and I are the same person, even though he's Canadian (hockey jersey) and I'm not.

I think I am the Tyler Durden in this fantasy, though perhaps I flatter myself. If I had a nickel for every time I had been compared to Brad Pitt, I would have no nickels.

I always scoffed at Dawn, but no more.

Finally, we have video evidence.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Tuesday? SPEWday!

Hey, LJ has got a bold and refreshing new flavor in Blogger Tournaments!

Let's play two!

Tuesday Spewday
Full Tilt Poker


Tournament #174055893
Tuesday, July 27
21:00 ET -
NLHE Deepstacks
password: spewday

Tournament #174065188
Tuesday, July 27
21:00 ET
NLHE Super Turbo KO
password: spewday


Get in there and say you were part of the inaugural event! I did. You should, too. I didn't even mention the best part: Winner gets dinner with Phil Ivey and a free trip to Monte Carlo on his private jet*!



* This may or may not be true.

Monday, July 26, 2010

Your Weekly Dose Of Crazy

Why not make Monday crazy day for now?

Here's a guy who stuck bananas to his face and then put what appear to be firecrackers in the bananas.

You know, like you do.



Keep watching. Maybe he'll do something besides keep exploding his facenanas, or maybe he won't (he won't).

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Next

Hi everybody.

Here's the problem:

You'll never believe it. I don't know a single member of the November Nine. I, for one, am relieved. You would not believe the level of animosity and contempt I faced from the Mainstream Elite of poker for my findings over the past two years.

Fact is, I think the Meet The November Nine series has run its course. It was fun, but it's been done.

So has Stupid/System.

So have the table profiles.

So has . . . well, poker. For me, at least. For now.

Folks, I think I might be out of crap to make fun of when it comes to this game of ours.

Don't get me wrong: I'm still interested in poker as a game. Poker is a constantly changing, constantly evolving system. There's no end to the permutations and angles and strategies and cunning reveals and new ways of looking at how to play this variant or that variant, how to counter this development or that one. The scene continues to be an interesting one to follow. But my perspective on the game was always that of the jester and absurdist, poking and pun-ing and generally just messing with the gravy, and that sort of deal really requires a new recipe each time. I'm out of herbs and spices.

Or, to put it another way, I've always just written whatever occurred to me to write. I'd ruminate and look down into the murky pool of inspiration, and, after a time, something would start to float up to the surface, gradually taking shape as it rose. I wouldn't know what exactly it was going to be . . . but I'd know the general outline, and I could tell when it was going to be a big multi-post sort of deal, or maybe just a one-off. As it surfaced, I'd finally see it for what it was, and then I'd write it up. What I'm saying is, right now, there aren't any shapes rising up. Not for a poker blog.

So, for me, now what? Strategy posts? No good. You've all seen me play, and my stats are only a Sharkscope or an Official Poker Ratings away; you'll just laugh me off the blogosphere. Insider poker news? I'm not an insider. Also, I'm in Michigan. Also, I'm lazy.

I've gotta say . . . it might be time to stop thinking of this as a poker blog, and just start thinking of it as a blog. It's either that or shut up shop, because I sure ain't getting the donuts made this summer on the topic of poker.

"But Goat, we NEVER thought of this as a poker blog!"

"Isn't this a LOST blog?"

Shaddap, you.

What, then, shall I blog?

LOST propped me up this year, but LOST is dead and buried, though still rewatchable (especially if you check out Maloney's Chronologically LOST project). Other TV shows? No. They don't seem to have the same level of complexity and ambiguity that rewards week-by-week blogging. Politics & religion? Well, maybe . . . but only if I think it can stay civil. Fat chance. Fiction? Mmmmmmaybe. Thing is, I'm writing fiction right now; it's just not for the blog, but rather it is for down the road, and hopefully well worth the wait. Movies? Well, I could cross-post from Filmchaw, should I ever start posting there. Music? Ditto the previous utterances, replace Filmchaw with Coventry blog.

So what, then? I'm not sure. I'm just sure that I'm not done with this space yet. I'm well aware that this is the sort of blog post that greets a 17 month silence, followed by one of those, "yeah, I guess this blog is dead" posts.

But I don't think so. Not yet. I'm looking into the pool, and I see some shapes down there. They just aren't stacked like poker chips.

Let's see what rises to the top.

Friday, July 2, 2010

July 2 Is Hammer Day


SIR WAFFLES. O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those Aces yet coming
Now out th' deck today!

KING IGGY. What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Waffleman? No, my fair cousin;
If we are mark'd to bust, we've chips enow
To do our bankroll loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of payout.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one ace more.
By Jove, I am totally covetous for gold,
And care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me bad if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell well in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet bracelets,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not rockets from th'dealer.
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As se'en deuce more methinks would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Waffleman, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his buyout shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not ship in that blogger's company
That fears the hammer now to bust with us.
This day is call'd the feast of Grubby.
He that outlives this day, and ships this pot,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Grubby.
He that survives day 3, and sees th' final table,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Grubby.'
Then will he forward his hand history,
And say 'These beats I had on Grubby's day.'
Will you please check them out for me?
I think I played th' King Queen right.'
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
Sick bluffs he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Iggy the King, Pauly and Hoyazo,
Lucko and CK, Poker Grump and Astin
Otis, Bayne, LJ, and many more -
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.
This story shall the degen teach his son;
And Grubby Grubby shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of bloggers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my blogger; and I shall follow his tweets,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in Vegas now online,
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their blogrolls cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Grubby's day.

Amen.