GROAN's blog

Review: "Ace on the River: An Advanced Poker Guide

Sat, 22 Apr 2006 01:05:47 GMT

Author: Barry Greenstein

I usually do my best to at least skim over everything in the genre of poker books, if just to see where some of the really terrible styles are coming from. Looking through the current slew makes me believe that poker literature has been set back at least a decade. The advice is so general, repetitive, and unexceptional that the obvious conclusion is these books saw print merely to cash in as quickly as possible on the poker phenomenon before it collapses, integrity of writing or pride be damned. There has been nothing in print that has added to Sklansky’s work of 20 years ago, save for the emphasis on no-limit games. Dan Harrington’s books are the class needed to address the needs for this market. The rest are pretty much just noise.

I wonder how the market can possibly support the seemingly endless supply, when the warning signs screaming “questionable quality” are so obviously in plain sight. Can there really be this much blind demand? Buyers of these new poker books are as oblivious to the danger signs as purchasers of diet books from that fat load Dr Phil. When 250+ pounds of lipids and dough is directly on the cover, promising to guide you on how to live healthily – well, sometimes you SHOULD judge a book by it’s cover. I now have the same disgusted reaction to any poker book branded with the “WPT” label as I do with Dr. Phil (atrocious exploitation, zero quality), and continue to get rashes from just touching anything written by John Vorhaus.

The one book that I had heard of that I was hoping would reverse the polarity of current poker literature was Barry Greenstein’s book, “Ace on the River: An Advanced Poker Guide”. If I were asked to list five people who I’d anticipate reading poker material from, I would conclude that 1) I probably couldn’t come up with five solid names and 2) Barry Greenstein would be one of them. It’s more than just his cash-game background that I seek in evaluating his possible insights. It is also in the way he carries himself, the writing and thinking samples he has produced in other venues, which to me were always forged from logic, maturity, and a level of honesty that differentiates. I felt that a book-length concentration of writing from him would set a new, much-needed heightened standard for poker books that would shame what is now currently accepted. With pre-publicity stating that this book would “raise anyone’s game at least one level”, I was excited to finally get a copy and take it home. I was prepared to lock my door and become so obsessed with its influence that I expected my housekeeping to rival Whitney Houston’s by the time I was done.

Having read the book from cover to cover (which takes about 90 minutes), I must admit to being crushed with disappointment. Perhaps it was my own overblown expectations, but I just didn’t get even a contact high from the material. Expecting hardcore mind-expanding hits, it is instead more a light puff off of a soggy Virginia Slim - barely enough to reach the brain.

It IS the most colorful poker book on the market. Printed on high-quality glossy paper, the book is physically heavier than you would expect. There are expert photos on every page, very sharp images that illustrate the topic of discussion seamlessly. The full-spread photos that head each chapter almost has a “Life” magazine feel to it, a sort of noir-ish placement of images and quotes that give the mood of poker’s varied facets in an abstract manner. Unfortunately, this visual effect is more striking than the actual text.

The book also addresses an extremely wide range of topics, most of them well beyond the technical and strategic aspects of the game. Esoteric topics like Superstition, Brain Chemistry, The Hazard of Sports Betting, Poker and Family, Poker and Sexuality, Gambling and a Productive Society, Chaos (chaos theory), and others each have their own chapter, which is a bold choice. My main criticism of this choice is the complete lack of depth each of these topics is explored. Most of the chapters are very short, on the order of 2-4 pages of actual text if you compensate for the pictures. This is hardly enough space to examine a topic such as Brain Chemistry or Chaos theory in more than a cursory and anecdotal way, which is exactly the approach the book takes.

For instance, for Brain Chemistry, Greenstein uses most of the space to define what a grammar school, high school, and college would provide as a definition for how the brain works, and the rest on how serotonin works. These descriptions can be found on the Internet in minutes, and thus reduces a mind like Greenstein’s from a potentially insightful teacher to just a (poor) clerical researcher. He does not inject any commentary or beliefs as the author, but just regurgitates some things he has read elsewhere. The chapters on Superstition and Gambling and a Productive Society read much the same way, giving some facts about cultural beliefs in superstition or the history of gambling in places where it was illegal.

Thus, the chapter titles promise far more than the actual text delivers. When the chapter on Poker and Sexuality’s gives one of its main conclusions - that having sex can make you more relaxed and sleep better, and that might help your game -did the author really believe he was presenting anything other than the very obvious? What’s next - telling us that orgasms feel good? How about the ‘Family’ chapter that says you should make time for your family and that it should be the most important thing? Or the ‘Integrity’ chapter that says you should behave well, don’t cheat or steal, and don’t berate other players?

While all these things might be accurate, they are also conclusions well within the reach of an average patzer. Reading this stuff from a potential like Greenstein is a lot like taking a woman home from the bar while drunk. You think it’s great in the moment, only to be severely disappointed upon waking the next day. How can the “before” and “after” of expectation and reality clash in such a vulgar manner the morning after? It shocks, it makes you feel bad about yourself and the world, and your balls shrivel in shame. Why he decided to waste his bullet on this pop-culture level preaching is beyond me.

In fact, almost all the chapters remind me of quickie papers written by 8th-graders and generated mostly from Google, the kind of light-on-thinking, heavy-on-citing-others’ ponderings that are just trying to get a passing grade. Even chapters where you might expect more meat, such as the “Mathematics of Poker” and “Game Theory” are so shallow that Andrea Yates could be trusted to bath children in it (ooohh – did you hear that? That was the sound of an angel losing his wings!). The “Mathematics of Poker” chapter simply gives various odds of things in poker that have been printed dozens of times before (i.e. chance of getting dealt AA, chance of making a flush with two cards to come, chance of hitting a set, etc.). The “Game Theory” chapter just gives a brief definition and history of game theory, and then lightly (very lightly) touches on the difference between cooperative and non-cooperative games. With Greenstein’s name on the book, I was expecting some new predictive formula, or an examination of a Nash Equilibrium as it applies to Calling and Raising, or anything that was a step above. Instead, more lessons from Google University.

There are some decent sections in the book, all grouped towards the end. It is here that at least some expectations of mine were addressed, as Greenstein breaks down a few hands in cash game and tournament play. By the time I reached this section, my expectations had shrunk faster than Mike Liang’s bankroll (or should I say dignity?), so I was probably overrating it. The sample hands are very few and stretched over many pages, but the analysis, while nothing revolutionary, is at least stimulating. There is also an amusing write-up about tournament players and Greenstein’s disdain for them and their hype, a sentiment I’ve shared whole-heartedly back when Tom Weidemen wrote about it six years ago (and I think Weideman did a better job).

By far the most interesting section is the beginning chapter “My Career” where Greenstein tells of his history in poker and life, gives some short lessons he learned along the way that are better than most of the other chapters, and addressing his “Symantec Millions” with finality. Besides showing a lot of mistakes and humanity in this short autobiographical section, Greenstein provides a lot of the circumstances surrounding his career in poker that compelled him to play on.

And what circumstances they were! The most hilarious thing you learn about Greenstein is that he’s not a poker player, but a poker PLAYA! You wouldn’t think it true by looking at him, but he seems to go through women faster than Uday Hussein in his heyday. When Greenstein talks of donating his substantial tournament winnings towards feeding thousands of hungry children all over the world, who knew he was just talking about his own? The dude has so many children from so many different women that NBA teams are starting to scout him. He has so many different races in his clan that during Christmas time at the Greenstein house, Kofi Anon is hired to play Santa Claus. I hope that Vince Van Patten gives Barry the nickname of “The Wilt Chamberlain of Poker” for his, um, “dominance in the game” while slyly winking at the camera as Sexton struggles to keep a straight face. Classic.

Being serious for a moment, I guess the poker meta-lesson we can learn is that if Barry sees a Queen deep in the Hole, with a lot of Jacks already on board (that obviously don’t scare him off), he impulsively wants to push himself all-in to fully commit without hesitation. Dude is braver than I am.

Though amusing, these sections are not enough to change my overall opinion of this book for serious poker players. I know from the Introduction that originally this book was to be just a smaller section in Doyle’s Super System 2, and that originally Greenstein’s goal was to address everything outside of strategy and mechanics that relates to poker. This explains the tone and de-emphasis of things found in most other poker books. I also fully understand his possible reluctance to write the next-level strategy book while he is still in the game and while the games have never been better. Nevertheless, if the book’s subtitle is “An Advanced Poker Guide”, I don’t think my expectations were too severe, and my disappointment justified. I can’t feel anything but the sadness of an opportunity to upgrade expectations and standards in poker literature lost, with few messiahs left to place future hope.

Verdict: There is a perfect market for this book: player’s wives, girlfriends, parents, and friends who do not play poker but know that you do. Perhaps this is what Greenstein meant by “GUIDE” – a thorough primer for the uninitiated, description of things that are common knowledge to players, and beautiful photography that helps capture the mood for those who have never been to a cardroom. If this is true, I don’t doubt that Greenstein was well aware that serious poker players would misread the word “Guide” and translate it into higher expectations and sales, and, coupled with the promise of “advancing your game one level”, I feel a bit deceived. I thus would recommend this book as a gift for others, or a tactical tool to help explain one’s profession to those who possess natural disdain for gambling, but not as a book I’d keep in my own library. My copy already has a new owner.

Blinking in Cyberspace

Sun, 12 Mar 2006 23:51:56 GMT

I’m sitting in my usual limit hold’em game. I have the 9h8h in the cutoff. Three players limp in ahead of me. I’ve got value here, as I know I can get sustained action from these particular limpers if I can connect. I consider a raise to knock out Barbara on the button behind me, but decide against it. What is giving me value in this hand is also greatly limiting my potential to steal, now or later. I’ll need to hit to win, so I might as well keep it cheap. So I limp. I watch Barbara to see what she is going to do. I know she is attentive and experienced. I track her as she surveys the situation. I follow her mind circling around the table, breaking down the limpers, readjusting her internal equations. It is an unusual amount of players limping for this game. I’m anticipating a window of opportunity to read her. I’ll know it when I see it.

And there it is - I see her hesitate for just a fraction of a second more than expected, and already I know what she is going to do. She is going to play her hand, and is going to raise. She has a great starter yet she does not have a big pair. She has AKs or AQs and that is it.

There is a wide range of hands that a given player could play for a raise on the button in this situation, but I just feel very strongly that it is this very narrow subset. It is just something about having so many limpers in front and the fact that I took a small pause before limping myself. I was anticipating this might produce a clue somewhere along the line, even if I couldn’t say when or what I was looking for, or even from whom. It turns out to be that micro-hesitation, the pause that seems to be composed of excitement mixed with apprehension, of opportunity with a hint of discomfort blended as one. Not everyone would feel this exact way about raising with AKs on the button, but Barbara would. I’m willing to go with this ‘tell’ and be willing to trust it. A fraction of a moment after I have this thought, the raise comes as expected from Barbara on the button, as if it had already happened and the matching visuals are just a formality.

This seems like a completely normal sequence of events at a poker table – acting and reacting, watching and making reads on people, refining impressions of opponents and finding their ‘dead giveaways’. Except that this game happens to be online, and “Barbara” is really just a blinking oval with a charming name like ‘DBL_BALLY_BUSTER’, whom I’ve only played 50 hands with in total. There is no face to look at, no betting motion or eyes to scan for clues. I’m not even sure of the real person’s gender. Who really knows what produced the micro-hesitation, or that it really even happened? How foolish is it to make such in-depth reads on such abstracted information, and to put faith in that read as one would in a classic ‘tell’?

In my previous article about modafinil, I wrote about the experience of multi-tabling under the drug’s effects and the perception that, with the added ability to concentrate, I could almost predict opponents’ actions and their meanings even before they happened. Here is the text:

“Though I do not want to endorse any meta-physical abilities, I did feel a sense of displaced time, where I had such high concentration on what players were like and what they were going to do in the game that it did feel a bit like predicting the immediate future with great accuracy. This predictive ability might have been an illusion caused by my mind’s willingness to calculate multiple scenarios very quickly and thus when one of the scenarios “came true”, it felt like I had already done the thought process for it. I very rarely had time when I did not know what I was going to do almost instantaneously, never feeling like a situation required some more time for thought. Conscious that this type of feeling and fast-play also occurs when drunk or NOT thinking straight, I had some concerns that Modafinil might be adversely affecting my game, but the distinct difference was that I was able to truly calculate the variables and run it through many logical gates as I normally would, and could not do under the influence of alcohol. My thinking was crystal clear, focused, and because of my seemingly magical new ability to highly predict others’ actions (due to concentrating hard on their play) as never before, seemed abnormally fast as I was able to determine variables and crunch them in thought, ready to act as soon as I had to. It was as though time was either expanded, or the units of thought I was able to generate per unit of time was greatly compressed within the same frame.”

I was quick to state that I did (and do) not believe in metaphysical powers, but I distinctly could not shake the feeling that what I was experiencing was more than an illusionary effect of modafinil. I’ve felt similarly before, but modafinil made the sensation more distinct, even while playing many tables. I was willing to assign this to just the heightened awareness provided by the drug, and that this ability of predicting others’ actions were more about the ability to think through the possible scenarios quicker and thus being unsurprised when one of the options ‘came true’.

But somewhere below the surface, I still felt that something more concrete was happening. Tells based on timing are not uncommon, but this felt like something deeper, similar to the kind of “certainty” one can occasionally obtain from live tells from unaware/inexperienced opponents. I’d just “felt” these similar triggers before, that same feeling of intensity that could not be fully explained but that you want to trust. I could even picture the artificially stiff face and pregnant betting motion in concert with the time spent on acting associated with the pause, and in my mind the ‘tell’ thus felt viscerally complete.

Interestingly enough, I was never one to put a great deal of faith into physical tells when I was mainly a live-game player. Save for the most obvious giveaways, there were too many instances of coincidence or duplicity to sort through reliably. Physical tells in live game play for me was used more as a possible tiebreaker than a strong determinant of my future actions. Yet I find myself relying more on ‘tells’ in the online version of poker, and trusting them to a bigger degree than ever before. Seems ludicrous. This borders on the self-aggrandizing lunacy of telling people that you can “see into their soul”. Since I couldn’t really justify or explain what I felt was happening, I’d just keep it to myself and assigned it to a more mechanical modeling of data collection and correlating players’ behaviors based on seeing them play more hands per hour.

But recently I finished reading a new book that might help to explain this feeling. In Malcolm Gladwell’s new book “Blink – The Power of Thinking without Thinking”, the author explores the concept of rapid cognition and “thin-slicing”, the ability of the unconscious part of the mind to focus in on the barest and yet most relevant bits of information to draw vast and more accurate conclusions to a question than a meticulous, plodding examination of a whole ream of data would provide. Gladwell presents a few important conclusions from his theory, almost all of which are of interest to poker and to my “visceral online tells” phenomenon in particular.

One of Gladwell’s conclusions is that sometimes having too much information about a scenario can cause humans to over-think a situation to the point that we not only ignore our ‘blink’ instinct of rapid, accurate decision making, but also fall prey to ‘analysis paralysis’. We keep churning data over and over until it is more a hindrance than help. The example he gives for this effect is the Millennium Challenge - a war game between the U.S.-like Blue Team versus an Iraq-like Red Team. The Blue Team, lead by the Joint Forces Command (JFCOM, the top generals and military leaders of the U.S.), had access to sophisticated modeling tools like the Operation Net Assessment, Effects-based Operations, and Common Relevant Operational Picture, as well as a very large array of armies, weapons, and tactics at their disposal.

By contrast, Red Team had much less sophisticated options in tools for decision-making, information gathering, and tactics. The Red army was composed of comparatively primitive armies and weapons. Yet the Red Team was able to pull-off a stunning upset at the start of the simulated war. The book gives a lot of credit to the Red Team leader, Paul Van Riper, for engineering the upset by relying on a more instinctual, more rapid cognition approach to fighting. He had an overall plan, but allowed his commanders a great deal of flexibility to act within it. Decisions were made in the moment and executed, without need for approval from above at each step. Van Riper believed that war could not be fought with charts and graphs, nor could it be planned down to minute details. To him, this glut of information would obscure the real-time, rapid decision-making needed to wage war. By relying on both his own and his underlings’ blink-instinct to fight something as strategically complex and quickly changing as war, he was able to outperform and defeat the JFCOM’s much bigger and better informed army. Van Riper believed that the Blue team suffered from immobilization by overly complex analysis and became strangled by decision-trees.

Extending this to poker tells, can it be that seeing an opponent acting on her hand live and in person can act in the same way as the charts and diagrams did for the JFCOOP generals? By seeing too much, can we assign too much meaning to what is really paralyzing amounts of extraneous data? Can we be gathering unneeded information - such as face and arm movements- to such a degree that it causes us to confuse or lose our ‘blink’ ability, to talk ourselves out of our first impressions? With the most common physical tells and mannerisms documented in various photo-books and DVDs, and the information so well known that manufacturing reverse-tells is now a common strategy, what if the amount of ‘good’ data compared to ‘deceiving’ data gathered in the physical world is just about a wash at best, particularly when dealing with experienced players? What if the most relevant piece of data that can truly allow us to determine an opponent’s strength is tied closely to the time it takes for her to act, even including doses of faked pauses injected into the mix?

If this were the case, then disembodied online games can still provide our unconscious enough information to still find tells, to allow for the ‘feel’ portion of the game. Our background processes can gather and analyze how long it takes a player to act in different situations and start to draw conclusions about these minute differences in response times in future events, even before we can verbalize in our minds what to look for. The unconscious can also start to model and track ‘dishonest pauses’ for those players that use them, and factor that into the ‘read’. Some of these time-related tells for online games are well known, and the concept of reverse-telling with them also exist (i.e. pretending to take time to think before value betting the river when you hold the nuts or betting quickly to simulate a bluff to get that call, depending on the opponent), so it would seem that the same weaknesses of over-analysis exists as it does in live action.

However, since online games strips away a whole slew of other variables and distractions, it does not seem far-fetched to believe that the unconscious, tasked only with concentrating on just this one variable and subjected to a vast amount of this ‘test’ in rapid succession, can begin to even accurately sort out the meaning of what each time interval reveals about a particular player, even if we cannot verbalize the process in our minds. Two features exclusive to online games help this: the auto-fold checkbox and the ignorance of players in varying their response times (either because they are comfortable at home and unaware of the scrutiny, or are multi-tabling and thus less able to fake response time). These features give a steady baseline for us to time “true weakness” (instant folds) and provides distant separation from “all other cases”, allowing that latter subset to be more noticeable. Too many players at even the highest-level games do absolutely nothing to vary their reaction times, particularly in ring games, turbo games, and shorthanded games. If reaction time is one variable that is the most telling about the truth of a poker situation, and best suited to stimulate our rapid-cognition response, then online poker might be the ultimate environment to ‘blink’ in and thus be richest in tells. In Gladwellian terms, online poker, with aliases and blinking ovals, is the screen shielding the orchestra performer during an audition, allowing us to hear and judge the music uninfluenced by external bias.

Another conclusion of Gladwell’s of interest to poker is that, if subjects are tested with the knowledge that they are expected to explain their reasoning for their choice, they will oftentimes ignore their blink instinct and instead chose a conclusion that is easier to verbalize later. Conversely, if a true expert is tested, who knows how to properly verbalize the otherwise seemingly ‘instinctive’ choice their blink first presented to them, she will stick with her blink response because, for her, there is no hurdle to overcome in the explanation. Gladwell gives the example of two expert food tasters, Heylman and Civille, who have been professional food testers for decades. They have been trained to breakdown and categorize foods into an extensive numbering system for all aspects – texture, color intensity, chroma, shine, lumpiness, bubbles, etc. They are so versed in this method of analyzing foods that they can speak of it in terms that makes sense only to other professional tasters. They cannot be fooled by taste tests that mere mortals fail such as the “Triangle Cola Test” because, as Gladwell states, “their knowledge gives their first impression resiliency.” What is normally a test that typical subjects will be fooled by can be conquered if one has the expertise to break down and explain to one’s self what exactly is going on, if even just at a subconscious level.

Gladwell provides another example in the case of the experienced policeman who was able to resist shooting a teenager who was fumbling with a gun until the last possible moment, allowing the situation to conclude without fatality. His experience provided him a larger cushion to both correctly interpret and trust his blink response - that he did not have to shoot quite yet - where an inexperienced rookie might have misread his own blink as just ‘immediate danger’ and shot the kid. The veteran officer describes the similar effect of tunnel focus and dilation of time that others cops tell in similar extreme-stress, life threatening cases, but had the experience to correctly understand what his mind was actually being told. Gladwell uses these examples to conclude that one’s rapid cognition can be exercised to make it more accurate and powerful:

“This is the gift of training and expertise – the ability to extract an enormous amount of meaningful information from the very thinnest slice of experience.”

This is a key conclusion that might help explain the phenomenon I experience playing online poker. Reading this section of the book, I was immediately struck by how it tied in previous conditioning to one’s ability to thin-slice in a different circumstance. A quick look at the type of note taking I do for online opponents spoke towards the relation: “Barbara 3,1, 2B, c” or “Fat Nassar, w/3B on 1” or “Wolf, unmod” or “Pai Gow, even wilder for 3+1”. They key is the names – Barbara, Nassar, Wolf, Pai Gow – that I frequently used to shorthand the note taking process. These names are Archetypes of poker players that I culled from my live-game-only time as I was moving up the ladder. Though the monikers started out as being strictly based on a real person, over time the names themselves devolved into a particular ‘character’ refined over time to describe common styles and playing abilities grouped together that I would encounter often. Using these archetypes allows one’s brain to think in great depth about strategically complex situations in an abbreviated language, “compressing” the processing needed to describe things internally to one’s self, so it is still something I do today, even as online games have given rise to a whole new cast of ‘characters’ specific to online styles.

The other benefit is the ability to more quickly classify new opponents that you have no experience with, but seem to give more and more evidence that they do in fact belong to an archetype. With a lot of live-play experience, this quick identification becomes easier, and even identifying sub-types (with specific deviations from the original) becomes a part of the process. While there are always many places for variability of human actions and plenty of people that do not categorize easily, reliable correlation between specific, reoccurring poker styles and new players is surprisingly common. What causes a “Fat Nassar” at the Commerce to think about on the Turn seems to translate pretty faithfully to the doppelganger “Fat Nassar” at the Bellagio once you really understand the archetype and the signs that the ‘other’ Nassar is a real behavioral clone.

The understanding and building of these archetypes (and their sub-types) include what spots they are likely to give information away due to how long they take to act. I believe that this is how tells are more often detected. It is not the obvious scratching of the nose and then betting when someone is weak, but of an experienced player recalling his past and having one’s subconscious overlay conclusive meaning to an opponent’s strength. I hardly need to explain it here – you just ‘feel’ his weakness or strength. I believe a lot of this unconscious, accurate subtext is tied into an opponent’s internal timing, and that our conscious mind, needing to explain why we feel as we do, assigns it to the furrow on the opponent’s eyebrows or the wrinkling of his nose.

When online poker first hit the scene, a major complaint was that, without the ability to face your opponents, the whole ‘feel’ aspect of the game would be diminished in this form, and that online poker would be a more ‘grinding’ type of game. I’ve never felt that way, but always wondered how I could justify a ‘feel’ game still existing in the online form. So here then is a small leap of faith. Can our Player Tendencies Database culled from live-game play be utilized and perhaps leveraged even more accurately in online games?

Here then is my answer. If a player has the bulk of his experience playing against opponents in a live form of the game, and does the vast majority of his data collection during this visceral, live experience, this in turn forms the deep well of training and experience for this player in this very human, behavior-based game called poker. We need the live-play time to best understand how the game affects real humans in real time. But once a player reaches a certain expert status and experience in live play, he has enough conditioning of the unconscious to carry this ability into forms that provide just the barest of ‘human’ interaction, like online games. Our unconscious mind can now fill in the rest of the picture.

Thus, I believe that having a lot of live-action play experience translates into a tangible advantage to those who then play against opponents that are online-only weaned players. It is still a game of human behavior, and those trained initially and for a long period by observing humans playing the game live have an easy transition to adapting rapid-cognition later to the abstract online form. One must also tweak and modify the live training to account for unique environmental variables (i.e. who is multi-tabling, who might have lagging Internet ping times, who is “watching TV”), but I believe that this can be easily adapted by those who have studied and learned about human behavior in the flesh.

I also believe that there is indeed a very strong ‘feel’ component to online games, and that the same instinct used to read a live opponent is still working to the same end. I do think that there are unavoidable gaps in potency and reads in an online game than in a live game (particularly the ability to see how players with position behind you might act, like the classic “ready to fold” tell). The structure of online games forcing players to act in turn prevents these kinds of tells.

However, the unconscious instinct for online games is a much greater factor than one might logically believe for such an abstracted form. Coupled with parallels and archetypes drawn from ‘real world’ experience, and the mind can be very capable of drawing a tremendous amount of seemingly impossible conclusions from the very limited information of online play. Most surprisingly, by stripping the input data to its barest form, I believe online tells to be more easily detected and reliable than those found in live play. I’ve long felt this way, without having the clear path of explaining why. Gladwell’s book provides that path, or at least the beginning of the vocabulary to describe it.

I have a strong interest in trying to determine if this effect is true through testing. Unfortunately, without a structured testing environment, I don’t see how this can be done. I have no desire to go back heavily into the live-play world just to gather data to test this theory. Instead, I’d just be interested to hear if others have felt something similar when transitioning from extensive live play to extensive online play. I also hope that it is understood that the interest is not showing that online ‘reads’ are impossibly accurate (just like live reads), but rather the interest lies in the comparison of just how online, blink-generated instincts compare to those made by the same subject under similar circumstances in a live game. I feel that this specific comparison would be surprisingly favorable towards the online tells for players with a decade or more of live play experience.

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Two Minute Book Review: Blink – The Power of Thinking without Thinking
Author: Malcolm Gladwell

Interesting if perhaps flawed book about the concept of rapid cognition - the ability to formulate complex conclusions in the blink of an eye based on the unconscious mind’s ability to recognize and crystallize the most relevant portions of limited information. Gladwell is such an effortlessly great and entertaining writer that he can mesmerize one into believing almost anything he writes. However, as true with everything Gladwell publishes, I always have a small suspicion that he is selectively presenting his information that leads to the most compelling conclusions, ignoring counter-arguments or minimizing their impact to his theory (and his narrative flow).

I definitely felt this way reading “Blink”. While Gladwell presents plenty of startling instances where rapid cognition wins out over a more methodically analytical approach to a problem, I can’t help but feel that examining the full spectrum of evidence of blink-vs-methodical thinking is not so one-sided, or even able to achieve equality for that matter. Gladwell does give a full section to how rapid-cognition can lead one to very wrong conclusions, but I still believe he gave short shrift to the relative value of the structured approach compared to rapid cognition. Rapid cognition is sexier and seemingly within the reach of everyone, while an steady approach of gathering data, studying it, and using logic is ‘hard work’. A book preaching one to rely more heavily on one’s ‘first impulse’ instead of the bother of deep analysis is thus like a diet book that recommends eating as much meat as possible as long as you don’t eat bread. People want to believe it and thus the author has a much easier time convincing and converting the audience to his thesis.

Nevertheless, it is still a very compelling book that presents a lot of intriguing concepts for understanding how the mind might work more effectively. The presentation and flow makes it hard to put down. Gladwell is an exceptional talent as a writer, if perhaps less so as a scientist. This book is worth the price just for the storytelling alone and, if used carefully, can add more to a thinking poker player’s understanding of the game and beyond than the last group of “how-to” books combined.

Verdict: Worth the price of a hardcover edition.

Final Note: So do I really believe what I just wrote about online tell-reading ability being more accurate compared to live play? Or am I just attempting a “Gladwell” and testing if a logically structured argument is enough to convince a reader of a fanciful, flawed theory?

Review – The Professor, the Banker, and the Suicide King: Inside the Richest Poker Game of All Time

Wed, 04 Jan 2006 08:54:09 GMT

Author: Michael Craig

This book focuses on The BIG Game of Andy Beal vs The Corporation, an interesting if obvious topic to write about knowing there is a public thirst for the details of these matches. I knew some of the details about stakes and players through various grapevines, but never a full picture, particularly from Beal’s side. Though the author himself states that he did not know all the results and sums, the ones he does include he stood behind as being sourced by either multiple accounts or a very reliable record. Craig provides enough of them and a strong timeline that one feels much more informed about this event than the piecemeal accounts elsewhere.

I found this to be one of the more enjoyable reads I’ve had about gambling in a while. The straightforward, fact-first style of the author allows the reader to learn more about Beal and the members of the Corporation and draw one’s own conclusion without interference of speculation or opinion another author might have injected. I wanted to know what happened and with whom, without opinions about gambling or the people involved, and the author provides this nicely, with only minor infractions of fanboy-dom. He does not play up the drama and avoids getting bogged down in a card-by-card recount of hands, letting the story stay focused on the characters instead of the action.

By allowing the participants to give their side of the story first-hand, and by simply recalling the sequence of events and how each person reacted, the personalities of most of the participants comes through naturally and gives good insight into how these people think and act in real life. Particularly Ted Forrest, Andy Beal, and Jennifer Harmon are fleshed out, usually by simple acts like being willing to sit down at the table or just what they said during a phone call. Craig adds in their biographies to date to provide a foundation for these ‘characters’, but does not force the reader into any conclusions that are inconsistent with the self-accountings from the people themselves. His presenting of these characters feels honest and is willing to show a much more fallible and human side to each than those feel-good video segments shown on ESPN.

Once again, Doyle Brunson is a dominant figure in the story, and it is refreshing that the simple, un-glamorized interactions he has with the players and Beal, like a father trying to manage a group of rebellious teenagers, shows what poker players are really like. Still, the weight of Doyle’s opinions and direction that is given by all, without overt reverence, does more to enhance Doyle’s already considerable reputation than a complex examination of the poker hierarchy would. Even in an environment filled with anti-authority figures, authority can still be found to exist. Reading about Doyle’s all-too-human struggle with such strong and independent people as the (growing) members of The Corporation, and trying to determine the line-up against Beal makes the undercurrent of full respect he does receive from everyone all the more remarkable. No one is in awe of Doyle, and he never declares himself as the leader, but it is without doubt that he is first among equals.

Todd Brunson is also given quite a few pages, and the reader does learn some things about how father and son interact. I do wish a bit for a deeper examination of this topic, but not at the expense of the journalistic re-telling of facts that Craig took as his tone and his focus of the BIG Game as the story, so nothing can be taken away from him for not doing so. Todd lives under an obviously big shadow (literally and figuratively), so it is interesting to see him given a wider description and play a heroic role.

Chip Reese, Howard Lederer, Chiu Giang, and Barry Greenstein are the other major characters of the story. Greenstein gets a pretty big section of the book, as does Lederer and Giang, but once again Reese’s story seems to be a reprint of what we already know (Dayton, Ivy League, never made it out of Vegas, etc.). It seems as though everyone but Reese cooperated with the author in writing this account, so Reese’s story and details of his participation and thinking are not as thorough as the others. Combined with Reese’s ‘minor’ role in the Ungar book to stimulate curiosity, I’m still waiting for the definitive biography of Reese as the person in poker I would most like to read about. Even with poker’s burgeoning popularity, I still don’t see Reese changing his private nature just to capitalize on it, so the wait might be forever.

The most compelling character is Andy Beal. He was already an enigmatic figure while the events of the BIG Game were actually happening, with first his occupation, then his interest in aerospace, and finally his Beal Conjecture slowly coming to light as the gossip grew, but it is clear that he actively participated with the author to give his side of things. We learn what Beal thought of the players and of poker in general, and get specifics about his background, business, and considerable wealth. He recounts his method of preparation and the reasoning for his demands in the negotiation of the games. Though the book is full of people with the biggest confidence, gamble, and intelligence, Beal holds his own if not more in all of those categories, lacking only in experience. Beal goes a long way in challenging the perception of how skillful even top gamblers really are compared to others that orbit at the same altitude, and soon has many top players admitting that any edge against this devoted amateur is ‘small’ or ‘non-existent’. Beal goes so far as to say that the biggest edge HE has is that the pros lack fundamentals! To me, Beal has the most accurate view of what the edges in gambling are really like against any knowledgeable and serious opponent (particularly heads-up), and is admirable in backing those beliefs with money and fearlessness. Without Beal’s cooperation, this book would probably have been much less interesting to me – it is finally hearing from the ‘other side’, in his own words, that provides the most insight on not just how, but why this series of events took place. Laudable and compelling, if perhaps understandably driven a bit by ego.

Verdict: Overall I found this book to be a fast and enjoyable read, particularly because of the limited ‘actual poker’ content that most books always seem to imbue with undeserved dramatic implications, when the real story of interest inevitably lies with the interactions between the people, not of hole cards with the board. It was worth the price of purchase, and I imagine it might be something I re-read 5 years down the line. I think even non-poker players would find it an interesting diversion if left in the guest room overnight, and thus a hardcover copy is worth the price on two levels. At the very least, pick it up when the soft cover edition comes out if you are at all curious about the BIG game and Andy Beal.

Review-One of a Kind : The Rise and Fall of Stuey "The Kid" Ungar, The World's Greatest Poker Player

Sat, 31 Dec 2005 09:59:18 GMT

Authors: Nolan Dalla, Peter Alson

I’ve been hearing about this book for years now, always accompanied with the highest praise from those who had previewed it. I had high expectations going in.

There was a time where I read just about anything that had to do with gambling. This included Stu Ungar stories published in magazines, online, or by word of mouth (I even own that “Icon Magazine” issue mentioned in this book with the Stu Ungar interview and the black-and-white photos of his ghostlike image in a hotel room). My appetite for gambling material and history was insatiable. While my interests in life have changed, I was still looking forward to this new book to be the definitive work on the life of Stu Ungar and to reveal his history as never before. Did it satisfy?

While the book is an easy read, I must say I was disappointed with it. I just didn’t feel like I learned all that much new about Ungar. The only unknowns were the details about his childhood years and the fact that Melissa Hayden (i.e. the “Evelyn Ng of the 90’s”) beat Ungar in a $5000 heads-up no-limit freeze-out toward the end of his life. Other than that, I felt like I had already read this book. It felt like more of a compilation of previous Ungar accounts rather than providing much original content.

Even if you did not read a lot of previous stories or articles about Ungar like I had, if you were to sit down and just imagine what this story would be if given a basic description of Ungar’s life, your mind’s tale would match up all too well with the actual details presented in the book. The results of gambling and drug addiction are so predictable, and nothing new or striking about them is exposed here. Since I was even more handicapped, there were only a few small gaps this book filled. I thought there would be big revelations, but it turned out that this was not the case. Sure, the book gives specifics like motel and street names where events took place, but does it really add to the overall story in a way to make it seem fresh and revealing? No. Even his childhood descriptions you could probably piece together on your own if you were given some hints (like a bookie dad and a mob-infested neighborhood).

The book seems to rely heavily on retelling all the well-known stories to give it substance, with just a bit more flair to pad out its pages. All the “Stuey Stoires” are here. The story of Ungar’s wild betting (and losing 80K) on golf, even before he reached the greens on the very first day he tried playing golf is retold here. So are the stories of Ungar’s lack of a Driver’s License or proper I.D., including the time he whipped out a huge stack of bundled $100 bills to prove to a bartender that he was old enough to drink. His sports betting with Doyle Brunson are also retold, as well as Brunson’s long, clutch putt on the 18th hole to beat Strauss and Ungar in a golf match. The Ungar Pick Six story. Ungar betting on himself against Jackie Gaughan. And the 10-high call against Matloubi (which admittedly is a good story, but where are the times he made this call and lost?). All there, all stories I had heard long before reading this book.

In fact, there were only two gambling stories in the whole book that I hadn’t heard much of before – the Meldrick Taylor vs Julio Caesar Chavez fight and the poker game against Roger King. Neither of them was particularly insightful (i.e. another typical sports betting story and poker story with the blanks filled in). They blend in with all the rest and are just more of the same gambling-ups-and-downs that show Ungar’s repeated cycle of winning and losing (again and again and again).

The gin stories has more details to them that were not as well known to me, like the time Ungar went 81-0 against some top player. That is truly remarkable. And the authors want you to believe that type of dominance was possible for a talent like Ungar in poker as well if not for a life cut short by the devil’s candy, which of course is just silly.

Yes, one of the main things you need to believe from the book for it to have it’s dramatic impact is that Ungar was close to magical when it came to games of chance, including No Limit Hold’em. This is mainly argued by his strong showing in just a limited number of big tournaments. His constant drain of money is attributed to his wild side-betting and ‘other’ gambling activities, but it seemed to purposefully ignore Ungar’s hyper-aggressive style that served him in tournaments was a cash-curse in money games, and conveniently ignores this aspect of his gambling activity. I can see where his touted ability to remember every card in the deck (which I don’t believe) would make him a gin superstar, but this ability does not translate well to NL Hold’em. You only have to remember two cards, and even if you forget, you can look again. It could be argued that his memory allowed him to profile his opponents more accurately over time and give him a large edge, but his failings to read the emotions of even his family and friends makes me doubt. He may have had a talent in reading people, but to think that he was paranormal and would be ‘dominating’ tournament poker today if alive is obnoxious (more so that that thinking persists in today’s TV poker world, where it seems you need to just win one tournament to be given this superhuman status). And being a natural skeptic, I felt most of the anecdotal evidence of his magical powers was due to selective memory at best. If you believed in his extraordinary abilities, and the unused potential such abilities would provide if he were still alive, then you would probably feel moved by his story. But if not, if you feel that this Ungar was just one of the first hyper-aggressive tournament players on the plus side of a swing, you might feel this was a simple hagiography written to indoctrinate a new generation of players into hero-worship generated by the James Dean / Bruce Lee formula (burst of success + die young).

The Big Name supporting casts’ gambling stories are also retold here as well, even if they had nothing to do with Ungar. For instance, Ken Uston’s blackjack history is given a few pages. Amarillo Slim’s “witticisms” are rehashed for the hundredth time in the book, as well as Puggy Pearson’s hillbilly act. Chip Reese’s rise as a gambling force is given some play as well, even if Ungar is not a part of them. And of course Brunson’s history as a Texas road gambler is called upon to fill pages. The only supporting cast members whose gambling histories were both not as well known to me and also contributes to the Ungar narrative are Bill Baxter and “Baseball Mike” Salem, and I would have enjoyed even more details about Baxter as he was such a big part of the Ungar story.

That is one of the main problems I had with the book. Since I was finding out nothing new or surprising about Ungar himself, I found myself more drawn to learning more about the side-characters and their stories and wishing the focus would stay with them when they were in the ‘scene’. In particular, as a reader I always perked up when Chip Reese entered or when Billy Baxter was in focus. There seemed to be more interesting things going on behind these characters than the predictable Ungar plot. I found myself wishing that I were reading a Chip Reese biography instead of what was actually in my hands.

The drug component of Ungar’s story is even less surprising than his gambling one. Anyone who has seen an after-school special on the ravages of drugs will find the Ungar decent into the abyss pretty close to TV-typical. Yes, drug stories are harrowing and sad. But they are no longer surprising – or interesting, really.

There was a potential for a compelling love-story theme for the book between Ungar and his wife/ex-wife Madeline. If this were a fictional piece of work, I’m sure the writers would have played up this aspect as a source of redemption and closure. But the facts of Ungar’s behavior towards Madeline are almost the antithesis of what a love story would be and has the effect of making both seem like co-dependant losers that are tough to sympathize with. Of course, biographies are supposed to focus on the truth of the subject, so Madeline deserves many pages. But because their theme of being on-again / off-again lovers was so predictable, a duplicate of the gambling aspect but with people, I found myself uninterested in learning more about how it would further unfold after seeing the pattern early. I already knew. Just like with Ungar’s up-and-down bankroll and drug situation, his love story became redundant after the second cycle or so. Having to read through five more cycles didn’t make it more compelling, at least to me.

The book is interspersed with italicized passages of Ungar himself describing his life. These parts with Ungar’s own words are potentially the most fascinating source of material, but there are simply not enough of them to sustain a refreshing new narrative. I would guess that these words from Ungar are those recorded by Nolan Dalla when he convinced Ungar to let him write his autobiography and were made shortly before his death. If Dalla had managed to get a few more dozen hours of these recordings, I think the book would have been much more insightful about the man rather than the final result that came out. Since this was supposed to be an autobiography, I’m sure that using as much of Ungar’s own words as possible was the real goal for the writers. It is easy to theorize that it was Ungar’s untimely death that caused the switch from ‘autobiography’ to ‘biography’, which in turn made the book to seem derivative of all previous Ungar accounts instead of the new and compelling version that only Ungar himself could have provided.

Ungar’s inevitable death happens just two pages away from the end of the book. I felt that it was not handled very well in terms of how it was written to give any impact to the reader. It happens suddenly in the narrative and then is given very little follow-up. There is a short Epilogue, but it too is unsatisfying. The Epilogue gives just a paragraph describing Ungar’s induction into the poker Hall of Fame, while the rest of its mere two pages concentrate on the growth of the WSOP. I think the writers could have taken the liberty to greatly expand upon the impact of Ungar’s death with his surviving family members and close poker friends. Having them recall the man and the lessons they learned from being associated with him (good and bad), should have been turned it into a full chapter. This could have provided both the much-needed emotional impact that seemed to be missing and also the insight into the man that we did not get from the rest of the book. The impact of Ungar echoing on in the living could have given a more satisfying sense of closure. A missed opportunity.

The book has a pictures section in the center. If a picture can be worth a thousand words, then one of them in particular was more telling than all the words used in the biography. It is of Stu Ungar near the end of his days, looking very much as you would expect him to – ragged and desperate – standing next to Nolan Dalla. They are both holding up a contract that Ungar just signed to permit Dalla to write the autobiography. Not so subtly, Dalla is also holding up the front page of the day’s newspaper to verify the date - the same technique you would see a kidnapper use to convince someone of the authenticity. With that, Dalla was proclaiming that the sad and broken man in the picture with him could not be trusted anymore- to honor a contract, or on any level whatsoever- as well as the easy and sad implication of Ungar’s desperation being on par with an abductee. This picture, coupled with the look in both men’s eyes tells the story of Ungar’s pitiful life with more force than the book itself.

Verdict: If you’ve never heard of Stu Ungar’s stories and know nothing about him, and don’t mind some overwrought writing, then the book is probably worth a look. Otherwise, sneak a peek at the pictures section, and then just wait for the movie.

When Will the Bubble Burst?

Thu, 08 Sep 2005 08:39:58 GMT

We all know that poker’s growth is explosive right now. If you don’t believe it, Mike Sexton will tell you it is so in every article he writes for Cra pLayer from now on, ad nausea, in between praising both the greatness of the WPT and of Party Poker in his insightful, don’t-miss articles. We get it, Mike. Please go back to your pre-WPT days of writing about old poker players about to die from an incurable disease and how their bravery makes you all teary-eyed. Those didn’t get tiresome either. Where is Sexton’s Pulitzer? (Seriously, shouldn’t all of Sexton’s articles be marked with that “Paid Advertisement” tag somewhere at this point?)

But the Pyramid Scheme of poker growth must collapse at some point. Only so many new people can turn 21 (or 18) every year AND master the complexity of NetTeller to join poker’s ranks. And the fact that those in the middle of the Pyramid or lower pay those above them a great deal of money in tribute coupled with the unending battering winds of the Rake, and the current rapid growth in height of the Pyramid must stop and topple at some point. The middle and lower sections of the Pyramid are holding for now, but economic reality must set in at some point. The question is, in what year will we see the pinnacle of poker growth occur, and actually see it start to contract?

I think the answer for ring players and for tournament players is different. So instead of just speculating about when the total number of poker players will peak, what if we ask these two questions:

In what year do you think the total number of live ring games will start to decline?

In what year do you think that the participants for the Championship WSOP Event (assuming it remains a 10K buy-in event) will be less than the year before it (and by extension, tournament poker decline)?

Using Party Gaming’s IPO

I read about Party Gaming’s IPO (parent company to PartyPoker.com) in a recent issue of Business Week magazine and the numbers associated it were staggering. In 2004, PG took in $350 Million in profits on $602 Million in revenues for a monstrous 58% profit margin. This extremely high margin is almost unheard of for any company that has $600 Million in revenues. Their prospectus was projecting $500 M in profits for 2005 and $660M for 2006.

While all prospectus statements are tinged with inflated enthusiasm to attract buyers, if we take PG’s numbers on faith as an honest estimation, that means they are projecting around a 42.8% growth in profits from 2004 to 2005 and a 32% profit growth from 2005 to 2006. While it is of course not an exact correlation between these projected profit growth numbers and the percentage growth of the number of players in poker (i.e. competition pressures will change (new sites), or they can expand into other forms of online gambling, or they are installing more efficient management software to cut costs instead of new customers as their profit driving force, etc.), there certainly is at least some relationship that can be drawn between these two factors. Poker accounts for 92% of Party Gaming’s revenue, after all. If we are willing to simplify our outlook, perhaps we can then extrapolate that at least PG (and hopefully there expensive research consultants) are estimating that these percentages also indicate to some degree how much the player base in poker will grow as well (net total), and thus that the boom in poker is no where near its peak. Is this correct, or are they being optimistic?

Poker is so white-hot right now that it might seem more than reasonable. The attendance at this year’s WSOP final compared to last year’s would indicate that these loosely extrapolated growth numbers might even be pessimistic. I do think that in the short term poker will continue to add large amounts of players per year. However I think one factor that is not being accounted for is the attrition rate of poker players becoming ex-players will finally become a real factor, balancing out and even overtaking the new blood. When exactly this inflection point happens is the question. As of yet, I do not think this attrition rate is even close to what it will be simply because it takes a while for bad players to finally admit it to themselves that they cannot beat the games and that they should quit. While still in the honeymoon stages, players will stomach their loses and either write them off as ‘paying tuition’ to learn or the loses will be subtle enough for them to continue to lie to themselves for an extended period. But at a certain point in time these players will come to realize that the loses are substantial and that they are not made for poker. Only then will they quit. We haven’t seen this yet as most new players are still on their Honeymoon.

How long is this time period for these players to leave their Honeymoon and enter the “Enlightened” state where they will finally realize their true abilities in the game? In my experience in the past as a brick-and-mortar grinder, it was around two years (provided the player did not flame out immediately). That is top end of how long I would see mediocre-to-bad players stick around in the poker scene, still convinced that they were going to break-out and become successful in the game even in the face of mounting evidence to the contrary. After that period, they were either broke and had no choice but to abandon the game or, for a few, were honest enough with themselves to realize that poker was an big expense for them, nothing more, and moved on. Most in this latter category would either drop down to the recreational lower limits and/or drastically cut down their playing time - back to hobby-level hours or less. In terms of PG’s growth estimates and poker growth in general, the loss of rake due to players drastically reducing their playing time summed as a whole is the same as losing players outright on a hour-for-hour basis and thus contributes to the attrition / drop-out rate proportionately.

But this two-year period to obtain Enlightenment was based on the Old School B&M model of poker. Online poker and TV change the variables significantly.

Let me tell you youngsters out there reading this a thing or two. Back in the Old Days, poker was not glamorous. It wasn’t a path to fame - which for this new, Reality-TV generation is a much more driving force (and thus solidifies persistency) than plain old financial security. People didn’t approve of poker much at all and thus you had to make a success out of yourself quickly lest you be booted out of the family. Driving to the casino, dealing with the smoke, the greasy food, the unpleasant regulars and all the rest could be very tiring, and more easily push a player out the door for good even if they were slightly beating the games. There was no comparable situation during my B&M days to the convenience of online games today, or of putting irrational fame and glory so close into the reach of so many otherwise boorish egomaniacs. And, of course, tournaments back then were very rare and thus if you wanted to stay in the game of poker you just about had to play in the ring games. This tended to reveal the truth about your abilities very quickly. There was no path for a player that wanted to play small buy-in tournaments exclusively every hour like some can do today. Heck, these days when you mention the word “poker”, lots of people automatically assume you are referring to tournaments now. The world just isn’t the same anymore. Now go get me a fresh battery for my hearing aid.

So we can see that using an estimate for how long a losing player might stay in the game generated from B&M experiences are not valid for the present. In fact, those who are exclusively online tournament players are probably the most robust form of player in terms of staying in the honeymoon period as their loses come in discrete, known packets for a fixed amount (thus emotionally much easier to deal with than unknown swings in a ring game). Not to mention that they can get a lot of play for very little money, meaning that they take much longer to reach the long-term, thus almost forgoing any Enlightenment period. Online gaming also provides such an easy and comfortable path to accessing the games that it makes the whole experience much more psychologically addicting which also extends the time to reach Enlightenment. All you have to do is turn on your computer to play. I think this type of player, online and small ($50 or less) tournament only, can take a long, long time to realize he’s a big lifetime loser. This player can possibly stay in the game forever because the buy-ins are so manageable. Thus, even if he is ‘Enlightened’, he doesn’t care.

On the other hand, we have the efficiency of online poker that gets to the truth about a given player faster than before (more hands played per hour and much more per year than my B&M days), which should shorten the time period for a player to know where he stands. This is much more evident to ring game players than the tournament-only online players discussed above since the real money results can put them in a financial hole in months. Of course the speed affects tourney-only players as well, but long hours on a single buy-in still stretches out this time period greatly. We also have the never-before-seen numbers of No-Limit Hold’em cash games, which for years have been theorized to not exist in casinos because they break the weaker players too quickly and destroy the base. If that theory is true, than these no-limit games will also shorten the time to Enlightenment for these No-Limit cash players. (The fixed maximum buy-in amount might temper this a bit)

We see that there are two distinct Enlightenment Periods now – one for Primarily Ring Players, and one for Primarily Tournament Players (actually this has always been the case of course, even in B&M only days). I often wonder about how these robust tourney-only player versus the new and quick-to-flame-out ring player will affect attrition rates overall. It seems to me that ring players like myself will be first to feel an accelerating attrition rate while tournaments might be immune or even benefit from the exodus of big-loss ring game players towards smaller fee tournaments for them to still get their poker fixes. I would love to see the hard numbers of profits from ring versus tourney fees for a given site, and see if the ratio is large enough that something will be done to protect the ring games more – assuming companies cared to that is. Lowering rake would be most welcome and might be a smart business decision to keep the ring-game base, but I’m not holding my breath for that to happen BEFORE attrition catches up with growth of the ring player base (if ever seen at all). It seems like we have a few new factors that favors newly minted players staying in the game longer overall for tournaments and most likely shorter for ring game players.

Were Growth Rates of Poker Players Due to Slow Down Anyway?

I think that one of the never-mentioned but huge factors in igniting the growth of poker was Season One of the WPT. Not just the fact that poker was on TV consistently, but how the season actually unfolded. The main point: There seemed to be very few bad beats and almost no horrendous ones that I could remember for the whole of the WPT’s first run. Certainly not at least on the level we’ve seen this year, like someone needing to catch only running 8’s to win – and actually doing it (WPT Season 3), or knock-out backdoor flushes and straights hit with regularity (just about every show now). If the poker industry was purposefully trying to design an ad campaign, how these WPT final tables unfolded during this first season was pretty ideal. Hands that were favored to win did win, and we did not see ‘unfair’ results happen often enough to turn the new audience (and in that first year, that ‘new audience’ was everybody) off on poker as "Luck, and then Skill". Good decisions were consistently rewarded to a degree more than usual in poker. Of course there were a few draw-outs, but none that were really memorable (like heads-up for the championship instead of just knocking someone out in 5th place). It made skill seem to be the only ingredient needed and luck didn’t seem to be a big factor. It was almost like poker as we ‘want’ it to be and not how it is in reality. We didn’t even see a big chip leader lose heads-up, if I recall. And this in turn made many more people want to give poker a try. A fortuitous short-term run of results for the poker industry happened on that first season WPT.

(Perhaps I am not remembering the first WPT season correctly, and I do not have the DVDs to review, but I do remember thinking how bad it would be for poker if the popular first season WPT shows had some really bad beats in them, watching the new shows with that in mind, and feeling ‘relieved’ when it didn’t really happen. Maybe someone can correct my memory of events.)

Anyway, perhaps starting with Moneymaker hitting a 4-outer to eliminate Ivey in the 2004 WSOP, I do think poker has been more accurately portrayed in terms of how heart-breaking it can be and how there is nothing much you can do about it but just stand there and hope it doesn’t happen. Adding to this is that poker is now so mainstream that so many more have now experienced these types of beats for themselves and told others about it, so the deceptive ‘ease’ and attraction of poker as portrayed in WPT Season 1 can no longer be repeated. Players who have not already joined the game might not do so as easily as that first time since they now know more about the reality of the helplessness one has against a draw-out.

How this effects our current discussion is that projected growth rates of poker players for 2006 and 2007 as given by the PG prospectus might be overly optimistic as the fantasy of poker is replaced by the reality as now shown on TV and by word of mouth. Numbers that are eager and willing to join the ranks of the playing will not match those extrapolated from the ‘first season WPT results'. Those initial results have had a lasting, skewed projection into poker’s growth future. At the very least, the additional seasons and shows that show poker’s heart-break side will stem the tide of those who are trying to ‘go pro’ (and thus put in heavy hours playing) and reduce them to hobby type players who do it infrequently and for fun. Fewer hours overall at the table means a slower growth rate for companies like PG and for the poker-playing base in general too.

(Hopefully a side benefit of constantly exposing the huge luck factor in poker will be the coming end of irrational hero-worship of those who win tournaments, or worse, just appear on TV. What has Evelyn Ng done in poker besides come in 2nd in a manufactured, 6-player freeze-out to justify such reverence and constant publicity? Or qualifies her to teach others in those campy poker camps? I’ve played against her in plenty of middle-limit ring action in the past, and while she is not a fish, I didn’t exactly fear her either or think she was notable. She was just sort of …there. Surfing variance. And yes my opinion of this won’t change if she makes a TV final table.)

Doomsday Scenario – The Rise of the Machines (or the Religious Right)

Since online poker is the fuel of poker’s growth, anything that turns the public against it trumps all ‘naturally occurring’ Enlightenment times and would instantly flip poker’s popularity on its head. There are two main scenarios that have a strong possibility of doing this: Bots and the Law.

Online Bots are being written about more and more in the mainstream press and publications, most recently in Wired Magazine just last month. All the articles I’ve read emphasize how new Bots are to the scene and how they are only capable of low-limit play at this point. However, just like how chess programs both improve and draw media fascination to them when facing humans, more advanced poker bots will come and probably generate sensationalistic news stories even before they are truly top-rate. Just the *fear* of bots will be enough to damage poker growth greatly. And I can’t help but think that the pseudo-journalists (Stone Phillips and the like) would love to push this type of story, even before it’s time. Will this occur, and if so, when? I think it will be sooner than most would predict. Not that bots will be full-table, poker playing experts, but that they will be portrayed as such in the media and thus affect the online poker industry greatly.

Alongside bots, an enforcement of Federal or State Laws targeting illegal Internet gambling could change things quickly. I actually think this is less of a threat to online poker than the fear of bots. Unless it becomes an election year issue of contention, I feel that most politicians are quietly afraid to take gambling away from their constituents, particularly sports betting with offshore sites. Poker will benefit by extension.

So How Long is the Time to Enlightenment? When will the Honeymoon End?

With all these factors listed, I will now give my predictions of when we will see poker peak in popularity by the tried and true scientific method of educated guessing.

For Ring Games: Enlightenment period is about 4 years, since micro-limits are now available and easy to beat, giving false hope. Most players are in Year 2 of their Honeymoon. I’ll predict that the number of real money games higher than $2-4 or $50 No Limit will start to dive in 2007.

For Tournaments: Enlightenment period is much longer, if not unobtainable for the $10 or less entry fee player. Exodus of bad Ring game players will go here. Fear of bots will be the limiting reagent in this chemical formula, which will dampen all those online WSOP supersatellites, as well as money attrition. Guess for when the 10K WSOP will see a downturn in entrants: 2009.

If you are a ring player like me, get in as many hands as you can now. The Great Depression might be coming soon. Or learn to love tournaments.

Script

Fri, 22 Jul 2005 10:00:43 GMT

Here is the script I was talking about in my previous two blog entries. I am no longer sending out properly formatted scripts. Here it is in mangled livejournal form. I have no idea why LJ doesn't like centered text or an easy way to get the proper formatting back in. Thanks to all who were interested and provided feedback.
+-+

PHIL HELLYOUTH’S SECRET SYSTEM
CHAPTER 7 – ENDORSEMENTS

Written by
GROAN
DRAFT ONE - June 14, 2005

FADE IN ON

INT. PHIL HELLYOUTH, dressed in usual uniform of sunglasses, casual pants and shirt, jacket, and baseball hat. He is behind his usual poker table like all previous Chapters, and starts to address the camera.

HELLYOUTH
Welcome to the bonus chapter of my Secret System. You may not know this, but the real prize of winning poker tournaments is the irrational fame and undeserved devotion people give to you, just for being on TV. People are so desperate and dumb that they can’t help worship those images they see on the idiot box. No matter how much of an asshole you are when the cameras are off, if you can create a memorable image on television you have a great opportunity to fleece suckers long term. This brings me to this Chapter of Secret System – Endorsements.

RUN OPENING SEQUENCE TO SECRET SYSTEM

CUT TO

HELLYOUTH. Single shot.

HELLYOUTH
Today you are in for a treat. Along with my Manager Gus-

CUT TO

GUS, A young professional dressed in a sharp looking suit. His glasses and demeanor hints that he is the smartest person in the room – however, he has a subtle hint about him that the past few months have been rough for him, dealing with Hellyouth. He tries to smile for the camera, but it comes off more as a grimace.

HELLYOUTH
(OFFSCREEN)
-and my Personal Assistant-

CUT TO

PERSONAL ASSISTANT, fresh out of college, and a clueless fanboy of Phil Hellyouth. Dressed in an oxford and khaki pants, he is absolutely THRILLED to be on camera, and to be near Phil, his hero. The smile on his face is a mile wide, but sincere. He’s really happy – the camera holds on this grinning face as we hear -

HELLYOUTH
(OFFSCREEN)
- and my Personal Asisstant, um, [beat], and, and my Personal Assistant…[beat]…what’s your name again?

HOLD ON

The PERSONAL ASSISTANT’s face, as HELLYOUTH stumbles with his name. Upon Hellyouth’s last question, his posture goes from straight as a pole, happy Cheshire Cat grin to shoulder-sagging, utterly defeated pouting, as he can’t believe he’s being embarrassed like this.

PERSONAL ASSISTANT
(crushed)
It’s Neil, Phil. Same as it was yesterday. And last week. Same as last year, in fact. NEIL. I’ve been working for you it seems like forever. For free, no less.

CUT TO

HELLYOUTH. Single shot.

HELLYOUTH
Whatever. Christ, quit your damn crying, who cares what your name is. No one gives a rat’s ass who YOU are. In fact, you should consider changing your name to “Assistant to Phil Hellyouth” if you want to be remembered for anything worthwhile in your miserable existence. Man I hate crybabies…calm your dumb ass down, Nick.

NEIL
(OFFSCREEN)
You’re right Phil. Sorry.

CUT TO

HELLYOUTH sitting at the poker table, with GUS and NEIL standing behind him. WIDE SHOT, all three in frame.

HELLYOUTH
Today is going to be special. We’re taking you to an actual pitch meeting with a sucker, oh, I mean [airquotes] “Venture Capitalist” to see if we can get some endorsement deals and maybe launch some Hellyouth Brand products. These types of meetings are the highest of high stakes poker games. And of course that only means on thing – ADVANTAGE PHIL HELLYOUTH! When it comes to endorsements, holding the name “Phil Hellyouth” is like holding all the aces in the deck!

HOLD ON

WIDE SHOT of all three people. HELLYOUTH gives the goofiest, over-exaggerated two-handed “thumbs up” towards the camera, and gives what he believes is a ‘winning smile’ as he does so, but it really looks like he’s maniacally insane. Behind him, GUS and NEIL slowly look at each other, and upon eye contact, GUS lowers his head to one hand and begins to rub his own temples, while Neil looks back at the camera and GRINS WIDE yet again.

CUT TO

A VERY PROFESSIONAL MEETING ROOM. The VENTURE CAPITALIST, PAUL, is sitting along one side of the conference table. A man in his early thirties, PAUL has a few papers in front of him in preparation for the meeting. Dressed as well if not better as GUS in all aspects of clothing, he is writing on a notepad, his cell phone placed on the table ready for action. Everything indicates that he is an important, busy man.

CUT TO

CONFERENCE ROOM DOOR

GUS walks into the room, followed by NEIL. NEIL is holding a SMALL BOOM BOX by his side.

CUT TO

WIDE SHOT, covering both sides of the conference table and all people.

PAUL stands up and extends a hand towards GUS. They shake hands.

PAUL
Gus. Good to see you. It’s been too long. How are Mary and the kids?

GUS
Fine, Paul, just fine. Thanks for asking. And, again, thank you for taking this meeting. I feel bad leaning on our friendship for business, but –

PAUL
Nonsense, Gus, nonsense. Anything for a former college roommate.

GUS
Well, I hope you still feel that way after this meeting.

PAUL laughs politely at this. GUS does not. GUS was dead serious.

GUS (Cont’d)
Paul, this is Neil, Phil’s personal assistant for the past two years.

PAUL and NEIL shake hands.

NEIL
Nice to meet you.

PAUL
So where is this Phil Hellyouth I’ve been hearing about, Gus?

CUT TO

GUS. Single shot. He’s got a “here we go” look about him, some slight agitation.

GUS
Well, remember when I told you that the first 5 minutes of this meeting might be, uh, -

HOLD ON

GUS. He shoots a look in NEIL’s direction (offscreen). GUS is ashamed that he has to say this in front of NEIL. He looks back to PAUL.

GUS (Cont’d)
- well “unusual”. (Pleading) Now Paul you promised me that you wouldn’t hold the first part of this meeting against us, and I really need you to keep to that, I really know that I’m risking our friendship here but, please, honor that….

CUT TO

PAUL. Single shot.

PAUL
(slightly confused, but still smiling and game)
Yes, of course Gus. Of course, of course!

CUT TO

WIDE SHOT across the conference table, showing both sides.

GUS
(relieved)
Well we better sit down then. [Leans across the table and WHISPERS at PAUL]. Phil won’t come in until we are all seated.

Paul sits on his side of the table. Gus and Neil sit on the opposite side in seats that are slightly back from the table, closer to the wall, leaving the only seat at the table directly opposite of Paul empty.

They wait. Beat. Wait. Beat. Still waiting.

PAUL
(to Gus)
Well?

CUT TO

THE DOOR OF THE CONFERENCE ROOM, as it gently cracks open just a few inches. From outside the door, we hear…

HELLYOUTH
(UNSEEN BEHNIND DOOR)
(whisper-shouting through the crack)
Psssst. PSSSST. Nick. NICK.

Through the crack in the door, a HAND finally appears and begins to SNAP ITS FINGERS to get Neil’s attention.

CUT TO

NEIL. Single shot. He looks over towards the door and the snapping fingers. A jolt of recognition and remembrance hits him.

Neil bends down to PICK UP THE BOOM BOX he carried in and puts it on the table. Holding it up high, he presses “Play”.

Right Said Fred’s “I’M TOO SEXY” comes BLARING out of the boom box.

CUT TO

PAUL. Single shot. He is taken aback by the blaring volume. What the hell is going on?

CUT TO

THE CONFERENCE ROOM DOOR, as HELLYOUTH strides through it. He is wearing the same uniform as we have seen before – slacks, light blue shirt, jacket, trademark sunglasses and hat. But in addition to that, he is also wearing a very bright, ugly tie draped clumsily around his neck even though his shirt does not have the proper collar for it. This is Hellyouth’s idea of formal.

HELLYOUTH is also wearing three gold bracelets around each wrist, right over the top of his jacket sleeve to make sure they are seen. He is also wearing a “gold necklace” which is really just three more of the gold bracelets linked together. There is no doubt what the message is.

CUT TO

THE PAUL PERSPECTIVE. This repeatedly used perspective is a shot across the conference table as if looking through PAUL’S eyes. This shot includes the part of the table and seat where HELLYOUTH will be speaking from. Single shot of HELLYOUTH, no others in frame.

HELLYOUTH walks to his seat with the posture of royalty approaching his reserved spot right before a special performance – stiff, overly regal, possessive. He is carrying three books under one arm. As he approaches his seat, HELLYOUTH begins to SET-UP THE BOOKS – on the table, standing them upright, covers facing PAUL (CAMERA) so he is sure to see them.

CUT TO

SWEEP SHOT of the three upright books. BRIEFLY HOLD ON EACH TITLE. We see the titles: “TRUMP: How to Get Rich” (by Donald Trump) “How to Win Friends and Influence People” (by Dale Carnegie) “The Republic” (by Plato).

CUT TO

WIDE SHOT OF THE PAUL PERSPECTIVE. All three of HELLYOUTH’s party on screen. HELLYOUTH is in the center behind his TRIANGLE OF UPRIGHT BOOKS staring at the PAUL(CAMERA) trying to ‘intimidate’ it, NEIL looking completely neutral like its just another day, GUS looking at his lap with one hand semi-shielding his face, unable to meet Paul’s eyes due to shame.

HELLYOUTH SNAPS HIS FINGERS, bracelets jangling, and immediately NEIL STOPS THE MUSIC.

PAUSE and FLASH ON SCREEN the words:

“Advice! You only get one chance to make a first impression! Don’t blow it!”

RESUME and CUT TO

GUS. He has his head buried in both hands, rubbing his face.

CUT TO

PAUL. Single shot. His mouth is literally agape in disbelief. He quickly looks at GUS to see if this is some kind of joke, but Gus is still too ashamed to meet his eyes. But PAUL is a professional, so he quickly tries to recover.

CUT TO

WIDE SHOT across the conference table, showing both sides. HELLYOUTH on the one side and PAUL on the other. GUS and NEIL are in seats farther back behind HELLYOUTH, OUT OF FRAME.

PAUL
(extending hand to Hellyouth across table)
Hi Phil. Paul Paullips, Executive Vice President of Ivy Capital.

Beat. PAUL’S hand is still extended, but HELLYOUTH is looking at it like its used toilet paper, not moving at all. Beat. It’s getting awkward. Just as Paul starts to retract his hand in confusion, HELLYOUTH LUNGES at it with his own hand, grabs it, and starts to shake it vigorously. It startles everyone in the room.

PAUSE and FLASH ON SCREEN the words:

“Advice! Just like in poker, always keep your opponent off balance! Make sure he knows who is in command!”

RESUME- Same shot.

HELLYOUTH
(shaking Paul’s hand)
William Binky Hellyouth Junior.

PAUL
(generously)
It’s nice to meet you, Phil.

HELLYOUTH
Yes, it’s your honor to meet me. Oh, and please, [big fake smile] …call me Phil.

PAUL
(recovering and pointing)
What’s with the books?

CUT TO

THE PAUL PERSPECTIVE.

HELLYOUTH
I like to bring along these most influential written works I’ve ever read with me when I have a big meeting. I draw inspiration and power from them, like my own mini Stonehenge.

Hellyouth points to “TRUMP”

HELLYOUTH (Cont’d)
Obviously the greatness that is The Donald does not need to be expanded upon. No one has mastered the Art of Hyperbole and Self Promotion as he has. I’m getting close, but he is still the master. I’m still the Garfunkel to his Simon, the Roy to his Seigfried, the Bottom to his Top. But one day soon it will be me doing the pile-driving instead.

PAUL
(OFFSCREEN)
(a bit put-off)
Um. Right.

HELLYOUTH
(Pointing at the next book)
I think Carnegie’s H-T-W-F-A-I-P is obvious in how it connects with me. It’s my Bible. My Koran. If I was a smelly, worthless Guantanamo Bay camel-jockey sand-bitch prisoner, this is the book they would be flushing down the toilet in front of me to get me to talk. Love and respect for all people. It’s that philosophy and teaching I value more than anything. And known for.

PAUL
(OS)
(nonplussed)
I can tell. What about that last one, Plato’s “Republic”?

Upon hearing this question, Hellyouth freezes. Beat. Beat. Still no answer. Hellyouth and Paul are just staring at each other. Finally, Hellyouth starts to zip up his jacket collar over his face and “TURTLE-UP” in his trademark way when he is being examined at the poker table for a bluff, like he has done in previous Chapters. Still hiding behind his sunglasses and zipped-up collar, he is not moving a muscle, hoping the scrutiny of him will soon pass. Beat. Finally…

GUS
(OFFSCREEN)
Um…Phil?

HELLYOUTH
(pokes his head up from his shell)
I just admire the guy. I think Plato is one of the all time greats in poker, that’s all. I mean, they named a planet after him, didn’t they?

PAUSE and FLASH ON SCREEN the words:

“Advice! If you get caught bluffing, try to fold without showing!”

RESUME and CUT TO

GUS. His hand reaches into his suit jacket pocket and produces a flask. He loosens his tie, unscrews the cap and downs the hard liquor inside all in one gulp. He is not even trying to hide it- over the top.

CUT TO

PAUL. He’s got a befuddled look on his face. Is this really happening? But he is a professional…

PAUL
Why don’t we start discussing the ideas. You’ve got some original business opportunities to pitch today, right?

CUT TO

THE PAUL PERSPECTIVE.

HELLYOUTH
Of course I do. This is going to blow you away. These ideas are all original and all One Hundred Percent Phil Hellyouth. Okay, here we go. You ever drive around and see those “Ninety-Nine Cent” stores? You know, where everything in the store is priced at 99-Cents? All types of products like drinks and canned food and batteries and hygiene products…

PAUL
(OS)
Yeah sure I have.

HELLYOUTH
Well here is the killer idea. Ready? [dramatically] PHIL…HELLYOUTH’S…NINE…NINE…STORE!

PAUL
(OS)
Phil Hellyouth’s ninety-nine cent store?

HELLYOUTH
NO! Nine…nine…store. NINE. NINE.

PAUL
(OS)
I don’t get it.

HELLYOUTH
NINE. NINE. Pocket nines! The hand I won the Worldwide Championship of Poker with! It’s a natural fit. We open up a bunch of Phil Hellyouth’s Nine-Nine stores across the nation, filled with nothing but Phil Hellyouth products. My picture holding my pocket nines on the marquee to draw them in. Big posters of my face hang everywhere in the store. A big projection TV playing Chapters from my Secret System DVD. Just picture it. People will drive across countries to come see my new stores!

CUT TO

PAUL. Single shot.

PAUL
(skeptical)
Hmm. Won’t some people be confused, thinking it’s a Ninety-nine Cents store?

CUT TO

THE PAUL PERSPECTIVE.

HELLYOUTH
So what! That’s the beauty of it. We sucker people in and then fleece them, just like I do with my DVD sales!

PAUL
(OS)
(really skeptical, but still playing along)
Okay. But what will we fill these stores with?

HELLYOUTH
Get this. For most of the stock, we just go to the nearest Ninety-nine Cents store ourselves and buy up everything. Then we just put these stickers –

CUT TO

The TABLE in front of HELLYOUTH as NEIL takes the upright books away and hands him a sheet of stickers and a can of food. HELLYOUTH holds up a sheet of stickers.

CUT TO

CLOSE UP of HELLYOUTH’S STICKERS. They show Hellyouth’s bodiless head in sunglasses and hat with an insane smile. Under the floating head are the words “Phil Hellyouth Officially Endorsed Product”, and underneath that a blank line(_____).

HELLYOUTH (Cont’d)
- over the products we buy over at the other 99-Cent Store [Hellyouth holds up the can of food and puts sticker on can] and then just write in what the product is on this blank line [Hellyouth writes the word “Peaches” on the sticker’s blank line].

HOLD ON

The newly stickered CAN OF PEACHES in Phil’s hands. The sticker is badly misplaced, with bubbles on the surface and overlap with the top and bottom of the can. Some of the original label is still showing. It looks incredibly awful.

PAUSE and FLASH ON SCREEN the words:

“Advice! Just like in poker, make sure you establish a strong image! Lead off with you best idea!”

RESUME and CUT TO

GUS. Looking disheveled. Not only is his tie loose, but also his shirt is partially unbuttoned. His suit jacket is off, his shirtsleeve rolled up. He has rubber tubing tied around his bicep, a syringe in his hand, looking for a vein on his arm to shoot heroin into. Again, not trying to hide it – it’s over the top.

CUT TO

PAUL. He’s just staring at the can. His body posture is limp in resignation.

PAUL
(curious, but not because of business)
What do you propose we charge for that can now?

CUT TO

THE PAUL PERSPECTIVE.

HELLYOUTH
Well we charge them 99 cents of course. Are you stupid? It still has a big double-nine in the front of the store. How the hell did you ever become successful at this?

PAUL
(OS)
So with the cost of buying and transporting the goods and the stickers and the labor of putting them on…

HELLYOUTH
You got to think big picture, little man. All you ‘by the book’ guys are alike, no imagination. The attraction isn’t this cheap crap. The attraction is the opportunity to meet me, Phil Hellyouth! For just a $99 store entrance fee, you get to shop at the store with only Phil Hellyouth approved goods, and then at the check out counter you get to talk to the one and only Phil Hellyouth himself! Limit one minute per family, unless they want to buy an additional 5 minute block of time for an additional fee, which of course will be very popular.

PAUL
(OS)
(Still morbidly curious)
But if we are supposed to do this in a chain of stores, how are you going to be present at all of them?

HELLYOUTH
Man, are you deaf, dumb, AND blind? I actually won’t be at any of them! Each store will have an official Phil Hellyouth Imitator, trained at officially sanctioned and approved Phil Hellyouth Impersonator Schools across the country. Ancillary Profits! Christ, do I have to do all the thinking here?

CUT TO

PAUL. Single shot.

PAUL
Let me guess. The cost of the school is $999?

CUT TO

THE PAUL PERSPECTIVE.

HELLYOUTH
Now you are catching on. Maybe you do have a brain in that thick skull after all.

PAUL
(OS)
You really think people won’t know the difference?

HELLYOUTH
Hell no. With training from my school combined with the right look, there is no way the Boring Normals of the world will be able to tell. I’ll show you. Take a look at Nick, who is the first graduate of the first Phil Hellyouth Impersonator School –

CUT TO

NEIL. He is now dressed like Phil Hellyouth, but to a CARTOONISH DEGREE. A giant, oversized baseball cap covers not only all his hair, but most of the top of his head. Huge sunglasses shield not just his eyes, but most of his cheeks as well, Elton John-style. His jacket is not just zipped up in the classic “Hellyouth Turtle” look, but zipped up past his nose, barely allowing the sunglasses to be seen. There is no possible way you can see any part of his head, let alone his face.

NEIL gives Hellyouth’s patented goofy DOUBLE THUMBS UP in mock imitation.

CUT TO

THE PAUL PERSPECTIVE.

HELLYOUTH (Cont’d)
- are you telling me that that’s not me? It’s like looking in a mirror. My own mother wouldn’t know which one of us to hug.

HELLYOUTH gives the duplicate double-thumbs up sign that NEIL just gave to prove his point.

PAUSE and FLASH ON SCREEN the words:

“Advice! When your opponent is crumbling, keep the pressure going! Be relentless!”

RESUME and CUT TO

GUS. He is writing on a notepad. In VOICE OVER, we hear the words GUS is writing:

GUS (V.O.)
My dearest Mary. I have failed you. I have failed myself. And our beloved child. I tire of the overwhelming shame I feel when I walk through our door. I’m writing this so you may one day understand what I’m about to do…

CUT TO

PAUL. He’s just slumped in his seat. His brain is scrambled. Has he been hallucinating? Finally he sits up, determined to put an end to this.

PAUL
Okay. I think I’ve seen enough.

CUT TO

THE PAUL PERSPECTIVE.

HELLYOUTH
Wait, wait! I’ve got more money-makers. Look at this, look at this.

HELLYOUTH reaches under the table, grabs a bottle of wine, and puts it on the table.

HELLYOUTH (Cont’d)
Check out this beauty. This is Phil Hellyouth’s name brand wine

CUT TO

PAUL. Single.

PAUL
(can’t resist)
Is that spelled with an “H”? Made from real sour grapes? [Beat]. Really Phil, I think I’ve seen enough for now…

CUT TO

THE PAUL PERSPECTIVE.

HELLYOUTH
Okay, okay, that doesn’t excite you, how about this?

HELLYOUTH reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bottle of pills. He slams the bottle of pills onto the table.

HELLYOUTH (Cont’d)
You know what this is? This is Phil Hellyouth’s brand-name Estrogen! People are always asking me, “Phil, how can you cry and complain like such a little girl so consistently, even at your advanced age?” They obviously want to get in on the secret to being more like me, because I’m always asked this same question, over and over. The public wants to know. Well, now here’s the answer! These new Phil Hellyouth Estrogen pills will turn any man into another Phil Hellyouth. It’s that easy!

CUT TO

NEIL. He’s trying to be helpful.

NEIL
Not just that, but these pills will help fans develop the same body that Phil has! As seen on ESPN! Everyone remembers Phil’s shirtless yoga poses!

CUT TO

THE PAUL PERSPECTIVE.

HELLYOUTH
(missing the insult)
Exactly! Who wouldn’t want all that, in easy pill form? We won’t be able to produce enough of these babies!

CUT TO

PAUL. Close up.

PAUL
(Angry)
ENOUGH! I’ve seen enough! I really can’t take anymore.

CUT TO

THE PAUL PERSPECTIVE.

HELLYOUTH
(clueless to Paul’s real meaning)
I understand! I bet it’s hard for any human to be flooded by such an unending stream of genius all at once. Unless he’s a Worldwide Poker Champion, of course. I’ll let you stew in you’re limited brain power until you catch up. But once it all does hit you – WHAMO – you’ll be the lead conductor on the Phil Hellyouth love train.

HELLYOUTH snaps his fingers and says –

HELLYOUTH (Cont’d)
Nick?

OFFSCREEN, Neil again presses play on the boom box, and once again “I’m Too Sexy” blares out. HELLYOUTH stands up. Beat. His arms SHOOT UP in victory, as if he’s just scored big. With arms still raised in triumph, HELLYOUTH turns around and walks out of the room. NEIL WALKS INTO FRAME, carrying the boom box, and follows HELLYOUTH out the door, like a puppy. As the music’s volume fades down the hall, GUS finally WALKS INTO FRAME, standing where HELLYOUTH was before. Looking like complete crap, GUS starts to extend his hand towards PAUL(CAMERA), but quickly pulls it back – he is not worthy.

GUS
(To PAUL/CAMERA, complete shame)
I really….I just….I really just….maybe…[Finally GUS gives up. Beat.] (whispers) I’m sorry.

GUS walks out the door. If humans had tails, his would be between his legs. He is hunched over and taking small quiet steps, A man who has lost it all.

HOLD ON

THE DOOR the trio just left through. Beat. We hear the CLICK OF A CONFERENCE ROOM PHONE, and HEAR PAUL SPEAK (OFFSCREEN)

PAUL
(OS)
Marjorie? Cancel all my appointments for the day. I need to go home and lay in bed.

ROLL END SEQUENCE FOR SECRET SYSTEM.

My own breakdown of the Bill/Phil Script

Fri, 24 Jun 2005 02:24:38 GMT

Thanks to all who were interested in reading the script. Bigger thanks to those who gave me some kind of input on what they liked or disliked, even if it was just a sentence or two. I always find that interesting and wish I could have gotten more feedback compared to the number of scripts sent out.

Here is my own breakdown of the script and some writer’s notes for those who are interested in the thought process and the final results.

Notes on the Characters

Phil Hellyouth (originally Bill) – He’s already been defined by the previous chapters and by the actual cartoon that “Bill” was originally based on. I wanted him to stay abrasive and clueless to perceptions about him vs his own about himself. The guy who plays Bill can do physical comedy and mannerisms, so I tried to give him a lot of that in the script.

Neil – originally he was supposed to be the disillusioned lackey that got yelled at one too many times. He was going to finally snap and betray Hellyouth during the meeting by slipping in the Plato book and switching a ‘good ideas’ folder (which visually was going to be a single sheet with a single line on it), with a telephone-book-thick ‘bad ideas’ folder after being yelled at for forgetting to bring them in from the car.

He turned out the way he did instead because I thought it would be more interesting to see his evolution from a star-struck fanboy into the next Gus over many chapters, reflecting my own evolution that I underwent when I first got into poker as a star-struck believer of the hype (and where most of the newbies are at again, unfortunately) into eventually the bitter asshole I am today. It just sort of happened as he was being written. I also needed someone to be the helper in scenes – holding the boom box, moving the books, handing over stickers, etc. which was going to be Gus. The two ended up switching roles in a way once I felt that the original Gus wasn’t working out, and might possibly steal the spotlight. Even the name “Neil” was at first something else, but I changed it to Neil as a play on “kneel”, which is what this character does best. So he transformed on the page and became the representation of all the fanboys out there today.

Gus – originally he was going to be more of an evil brains behind the operation, an exploiter and the source of constant ego-boosting for Bill to keep him sedated, and would battle the betrayal of Neil in the meeting room in real time while a clueless Bill just accepting both sides unaware of what was happening. Somewhere along the line, Gus was going to realize that his allegiance to Bill was misguided and eventually side and conspire with Neil to humiliate him in the meeting. This changed almost immediately the first time I gave Gus substantial dialogue and the time it was going to take to develop this notion of self-realization for Gus, because it was a dumb idea. First it takes the emphasis of stupidity and evilness off of Bill and changes the whole thing into a battle over Bill’s soul (i.e Gus vs Neil). Second, it actually might invoke compassion for Bill, which is the last thing I want. Third was the problem of stealing Bill’s spotlight again – Bill is the star, as he should be. It was just a lot easier to flow if Bill is the uncontested source of his own stupidity for the jokes to come about, instead of them being foisted on him (with him unaware) by others.

Yes, the Original Gus was just a bad idea that proved itself to be that immediately. What the hell was I thinking? So he instead became the evolution of Neil in the future – more of a reflection on how experienced players might feel about poker ‘superstars’ and how those who bought into the whole cult of personality early on might end up as worn-out, disillusioned people towards the end. He’s still in the business, but trapped in it and not loving it like he once used to. But having the new Gus reflect this whole history might be (was) a real problem in a 10 minute film since we’ve never seen him before (more on this in the ‘Script Problems’ section). Finally, he was named ‘Gus’ because it was fast and easy to type, that name would be changed in a second pass once the character was more defined.

Paul – planned as a straight man that gets tortured by Bill’s stupidity. I gave him the name Paul Paullips because I thought it was kind of funny to be able to have Bill make Paul miserable for 10 straight excruciating minutes. People who know who “Paul” was supposed to be representing might think it funny since Paul is the one guy who might suffer the most under that Hellyouth barrage. Since he was the one character that everything happens around and was just there for straight reactions, his role didn’t change much between what I planned and what got put on paper.

Mechanics

Before I get to the weakness of script, a few notes on the production aspects. I tried to keep in mind that the budget was along the lines of $20, and the props had to come from “whatever was in the garage”. Therefore I think that the props might actually be a problem to pull off – the three specific books, nine gold bracelets, stickers with the right goofy image, giant-sized hat and sunglasses, etc. If these short films are just some guy’s weekend fun, then that many specific props become a pain in the ass to procure or make. I was aware that this alone might mean that the script doesn’t get shot, and was willing to cut these down substantially on a second pass if requested, but they do provide a lot of the visual jokes.

About the CUT TO’s – I think previous Chapters were shot with a single DV camera from one steady angle, so I tried to keep the camera as ‘still’ as possible. If Bill and his crew were used to shooting things out of order (i.e. all Paul’s single-shots done all at once, then Gus’, then Neil’s, etc, and then everything spliced in to the right place during editing), I would have put more cuts to give better spacing and feel. Instead, the “PAUL PERSPECTIVE” was created to make it as simple to shoot as possible – one angle, one actor. I’m also NOT a big fan of a lot of dialogue OFFSCREEN, but I put a lot of that in to make it easier to shoot. If the actors prove to be more adept at shooting their scenes out-of-sequence and still able to give convincing performances, I would not have tried to go sparingly on the cuts (and even still, there are still probably too many in the first draft) and eliminated OFFSCREEN dialogue. This was a choice of economy over form and not the way I would have wrote it if simplicity wasn’t an issue.

Script Sequences

Now for the parts I thought were weak, and what I would change in a second pass.

1) Hellyouth’s introduction to the chapter about the greatest thing about winning tournaments is endorsements. He speaks too much like the writer (me) and not like himself (“people are so desperate and dumb to worship” and “No matter how much of an asshole you are when the cameras are off”). He shouldn’t be that self-aware since he proves to be blind to this perception later on. I would change it to be more true to the character’s slanted views of the world – more arrogant and entitled.

2) Neil’s introduction. Might be too boggy – I need to show Neil’s submissive fanboy state and Hellyouth’s attitude of contempt towards him when he should be nothing but appreciative that these fanboys exist at all. Still, it’s cheating a bit to allow that interplay to remain on film, as “Secret System” (if it really existed, and the website wants that impression) would have re-shot that and not released it. All the other stuff is justified as being released by “Secret System” because Hellyouth IS NOT AWARE that it comes off badly – he thinks it all comes off victorious. I don’t know about the yelling at Neil though – “realistically” it would not make the finished DVD.

3) Gus foreshadowing a disaster by his interaction with Paul at the start of the meeting. This might be changed so that it’s more of a surprise to the audience when the outrageously lame meeting gets underway. It’s only necessary if Gus stays as a character to show his knowledge that he is in a bad spot already and then somewhat justify his rapid descent later on, and even then could be reworked.

4) Boom box music. First, Hellyouth’s choice of song isn’t as funny as it could be. This is my problem because I know a lot of music, but I don’t know the songs’ names. Someone could come up with a better, funnier song. Second, is boom box music too much too soon? Too obvious in it’s message of arrogance/cluelessness? I would see how this plays on camera and cut it if it doesn’t work.

5) The books. Why would Hellyouth bring one that he had no clue about? Especially if he addresses each one in a planned manner. If Bad Neil isn’t around to switch it in on Phil, it doesn’t make sense as written. A quick fix is if Hellyouth did NOT plan to address each book, but then gets asked about them. That way he just brings ‘impressive’ books, not knowing he’d be asked about them. But that’s not a real fix. I would find some way to keep it in though because I like the “turtle-up” sequence and Advice! Screen about bluffing. Also when Hellyouth goes off on his anti-Middle Eastern rant (to contrast directly of course with “How to Win Friends…” spiel), some of the audience might actually like him more for it, sad as that seems. That could be changed.

6) This is as good a place as any to address “The Gus Problem”. Is his character necessary? Couldn’t he be dropped and his disgusted reactions to Hellyouth’s antics be transferred to Paul instead (obviously to a lesser degree)? Since I wrote Gus in at the beginning, I hung with him as a character but I found it hard to give him something interesting to do. So he became a surrogate for the audience’s reaction to the Advice! Screens, appearing after each one to emphasize how out of whack those screens (and Phil) are. But it might be so over-the-top that it takes believability out of the equation, even for a parody that asks for total suspension of belief. Basically his visual reactions to each antic need to be ‘worth it’ to keep this character around. Also, since he was introduced just a few minutes ago, his backstory has to be inferred quickly by the audience, which I don’t know happens. His descent occurs too fast for someone we just met to feel sympathy for or laugh at. So it all rests on how funny the visuals are of his downward spiral – the director and actor would have to carry this part. Otherwise the character hits the editing room floor. Gus could be the weakest part of the script if it doesn’t play on film.

7) The “call me Phil” after Paul has already called him Phil as they shake hands to show Phil’s arrogance. I know I’ve seen that sequence elsewhere so it’s ‘stolen’ and might be too familiar. I just like it there because it’s appropriate. Phil’s necktie could go too – I’d want to see if it looks funny on camera, otherwise its too much overkill. The gaudy display of bracelets is probably enough.

8) William Binky Hellyouth Junior – obviously it’s not “William” but Philip (it was a search and replace oversight when renaming the character). Binky is not really funny – some other middle name could be.

9) Nine-Nine Store. I don’t know if its funny enough to take as much time as it does to develop. It’s a long way to go for the sticker visual joke, which may or may not be funny and Neil’s Imitator visual (which I really like as a surprise to the audience). Originally I had planned to do more of a stream of products like the wine and pills as the meat of the pitch (I had in mind a sneaker gag and a “charity facial mole” analogous to Lance Armstrong’s yellow string bracelets in addition to the wine and pills). The Nine-Nine was going to be a small part, where Phil says he has been using the 99-cent products for the past month just so he can endorse them as something he actually uses, and then we see a flashback of disastrous sequences of mishaps with cheap toothpaste and bargain hair care products. He was also going to quietly say that he is using 99-Cent deodorant as well in the mix of things he was trying, and then much later on (after the audience has totally forgotten about it), Phil was going to take off his jacket during a different product pitch and we would see HUGE pit stains as a recall joke of his using cheap hygiene products. I thought it would be too difficult to shoot, so I dropped the flashbacks and Nine-Nine was expanded. Don’t know if it was good enough to stay as is.

10) Gus’ suicide note. Too much. Also it’s probably distasteful with having someone close to Phil do this, all things considered. I didn’t think of it then as I wrote it, but I sure do realize it now in hindsight. I would change this in a second pass, it does not sit well with me now that I’ve recognized what might be taken from it. Definitely not my intent.

11) Phil’s w(h)ine. It allows Paul to get a few shots in, but it could be too obvious that it was JUST a way to get Paul’s cracks in. I’d probably leave it in though. Paul deserves it.

12) The pills. I blew the joke by how it’s written. In a rewrite, Phil would FIRST say “you know how everyone is always asking me how I could whine and cry like a little girl…public wants to know” followed by “you want to know the answer?” “What?” and THEN have Phil slam the pills on the table and tell Paul what they are with a flourish. Setup, then punch line. Duh.

13) Gus talking to Paul in shame at the very end after we see Gus getting drunk/ shooting up/ wanting death. Might be too jarring for someone whose role was to be over-the-top miserable suddenly appear back in the ‘present’ instead of staying in his over-the-top world. If Gus survives at all into a second draft, this would have to be reworked.

14) The ending – it’s ok, but not great having Paul talking into a conference phone be the last thing before credits. I’m sure I’d think of something better given more time.

A lot of the stuff that would make or break this Chapter are visual gags and characters’ reactions, which is natural for a film as opposed to a purely written parody. Visual comedy and mannerisms are things that I thought Bill did best, so it gets a lot of play. Therefore how it actually turns out on film is the real key to whether it’s funny or not.

Is this script any good? I would say it’s got some good elements and would have been a lot different than the other Chapters at least. Would it have worked? I don’t know, but I would have loved to seen it developed more and then shot. Oh well.

Star Wars Episode III review

Wed, 22 Jun 2005 10:14:27 GMT

If there was only one poker game in town and you knew every time you played there you were going to get cheated, how many times would you continue to go before logic got the better of you? I’m disappointed in myself because I guess for me the answer is at LEAST three times. Even though I saw Star Wars Episodes I and II and knew what utter crap those movies were, I still found myself sitting in a theatre watching Episode III. I guess I really don’t mind being cheated, even if I know for sure it’s going to happen.

George Lucas cannot write dialogue. Its almost criminal what he tries to pass off as words real people would speak. I literally cringed at so many parts of the film, including just about any time Padme and Anakin were the only people on screen, too many to recall individually. There was also a sequence where Obi-Wan says “Palpatine is EVIL!” and Annie replies “But to me, the JEDI are!” I really thought they were going to devolve into a “no you are” “no YOU are” type of bickering. It was just that lame. And of course Vader’s “NOOOOOOOO!” literally bust up the room in laughter. Reminded me of McBain from the Simpsons when his movie partner got shot in the bar (obscure reference).

Hayden Christiansen is the worst actor I’ve seen since that guy from “Tilt”. But it might not all be his fault - even respectable actors could not escape the verbal farts they had to commit to film. If a guy with so much built-in cool as Samuel L Jackson comes off like a giant turd, you really failed in character development and dialogue.

Who had more sexual chemistry on screen, Annie and Padme or R2D2 and C3PO? Yeah, I vote for the gold guy and the dildo on wheels too. And why did Darth Wooden love Padme so much since she seemed to bitch at him about opening up to her or order him around in just about every scene. I’m convinced that if they stayed married and she was that much of a shrew to him throughout, he would have turned to the Dark Side anyway. George Lucas’ message (which he actually might have gotten right) – don’t get married and have children, or you will lose yourself and your identity and end up wanting to kill everyone around you (especially your single friends who can still get lap dances at the Jedi Council’s Champagne Room).

But of course there probably isn’t a Champagne Room at Jedi HQ. Was anyone else disturbed by the whole Jedi / Catholic connection? You know, a bunch of guys wearing monk costumes and sworn to celibacy, yet keeping a room full of ‘younglings’ around locked up in a room for their amusement? I guess “Padawan” is code for fresh buttocks.

Darth Vader was the ultimate bad guy for decades, because he had mystery about him. But now that the curtain has been pulled back and we see that he was really just a dumb guy who had a “scary” dream and then showed himself to be more easily manipulated than a steering wheel, it’s totally damaged the first three films beyond repair.

I’m actually a bit pissed off. Lucas has taken an icon of pop culture and completely imploded it in front of our eyes. And he gets to take hundreds of millions to the bank as a reward. The scene with Annie going into the room of younglings and slaughtering them is a perfect analogy for what Lucas has done to many in my age group’s childhood memories of Star Wars and what it meant to us then, and what it now means to us after these three atrocious films. It’s like learning that your wife, who you’ve devoted a lot of love and attention to, was actually a dude in disguise all along. F You, George.

Script intended for Bill Fillmaff's Secret System

Sun, 19 Jun 2005 01:00:34 GMT

In a previous post, I mentioned that I would love to have a crack at writing a chapter for this guy: http://www.planetstacked.com/fillmaff/ because I think he has a good idea that is just so-so in execution. After posting that comment, I went ahead and wrote about 8 pages of a script, mostly for exercise and fun. Though it was not yet completed, it was shaping up and I thought that it might actually be shoot-able even on a very low budget. So I wrote to “Bill” and asked if he might consider outsider submissions, for free as long as there is a writing credit somewhere. He cordially replied that he was not interested in doing many more Chapters and thus would probably finish up himself.

Since I don’t like to leave projects unfinished, I went ahead and completed the script as I was enjoying it anyway. I went ahead and sent him the first draft to see what he thought, but have not heard back from him.

Yesterday, I finally got my head out of my ass and looked up what his host site was all about. Well, fuck me. I had no idea who the hostmasters were of that website or the names associated with it. I really thought that ‘planetstacked’ was just another hosting company for public leasing of web space. I guess I just see the word ‘planet’ and assume it’s a data center, like these guys: http://www.theplanet.com/ among others. Just seems like it’s a common association, at least in my mind.

Anyway, I doubt I’m much appreciated or welcome by Bill or his hostmasters. Nevertheless, I do have a completed first draft of a parody script that was meant for him. Now that I know its never going to see the light, I’m giving it out to anyone who wants a copy.

It’s about 20 pages, but written in screenplay format so there is lots of dead space due to formatting. It reads more like 10 pages. I would just post it here but livejournal has an annoying way of taking out formatting it considers ‘wasteful’ and destroys the readability of the screenplay, particularly if you are used to seeing that type of format for a script. So instead I will email it out in its best form to individuals who are interested. It is Microsoft Word format, about 90Kb in size.

Out of respect for Bill’s creation, I also went ahead and changed the name of my lead character.

Remember it’s a first pass. I’m the first to say that it is not perfect, and there are specifics I am not happy with and would rewrite in a second pass. Lots of what I had planned changed as I was writing it, including full characters and their roles (anyone who writes creatively knows this organic process). I worry about a few sections’ payoff and would consider axing them too if it doesn’t play well on camera. What I would like is for others (writers and non-writers) who are interested to read it and provide feedback. I would love to see if others spot what I consider the weak points, or find new ones. Breaking down this draft might prove instructive as an exercise for all who are interested in writing or just want to critique. After all, poker is not the only interest I list in my profile.

For a copy of the screenplay, either leave a comment here with your email address or just send me an email at this address and I will reply with an attached copy: mystomachhurts_ouch@yahoo.com

Unintentional Comedy 002 – WSOP Edition

Wed, 15 Jun 2005 07:57:03 GMT

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Photo #1: http://www.lasvegasvegas.com/poker/photoview.php?image=1434

Caption: Former XXX film star Harry Reems takes time out from the Adult Entertainment Expo to participate in this year’s World Series of Poker. Glad to see at least someone is trying to revive that distinctive 80’s look of an open shirt, exposed furry chest, and porn-stache. Way to go, Harry!

Photo #2: http://www.lasvegasvegas.com/poker/photoview.php?image=1598

Caption: “Is that burning fish I smell coming from Men The Master’s room upstairs?”

Photo #3: http://www.lasvegasvegas.com/poker/photoview.php?image=1553

Caption: Who said that thin-haired, un-athletic, pasty-faced, middle-aged bookworms couldn’t look appropriately stylish and hip in youthful, urban sports jerseys? Oh, that’s right – I did. At least they left their gold plated Mercedes-symbol neck chains at home. This time.

Photo #4: http://www.lasvegasvegas.com/poker/photoview.php?image=1547

Caption: Meanwhile, this guy gets to dress like he’s about to play 18 holes at the exclusive Whites-Only Country Club. Did some prankster switch the nametags around on the Full Tilt lockers?

RGP, stealing, Bill Fillmaff, and the UB meeting

Sat, 11 Jun 2005 12:23:37 GMT

A question I get a lot in email: Have I abandoned RGP? Why?

The answer is pretty easy – I have not willfully abandoned it, but I don’t read it anymore and haven’t for quite a while. I still believe in it as being the only place where unrestricted discourse can occur, topics that might be viewed as highly detrimental to the poker industry. It's necessary to have a forum to balance out the inevitably sterling, PR-manufactured words that dominate the poker landscape in print and in other poker-sponsored websites. It's an overall good to have a place where anyone can be heard and judged based on his post’s merits. Otherwise the structure of controlled messages or even censorship is too powerfully in favor of industry, with no recourse for players other than the much slower (non-Internet) word-of-mouth. Checks and balances and all that.

However, I also believe that USENET newsgroups are best served by respecting their unofficial guidelines. Namely, reading at least a month of posts before posting yourself in order to eliminate redundancy. With Google now a permanent fixture, I would also add searching its archives for a possible answer to your question before posting as well. I cannot meet these standards, so even if RGP suffers a noticeable lack of these practices, I do not feel I should post. If only everyone were so conscientious.

It’s just not possible for me to read RGP in any manner that is time efficient. With the flood of new posters going off-topic or asking the same old questions and the sheer volume of it, I don’t find it nearly as interesting as I once did. Don’t get me wrong, if you are new to poker and RGP, its current activity might be very thrilling as many topics are still fresh to you. But for those who have a decade or more of poker already under one’s belt, it’s just repetitive and almost frustrating. That applies outside of RGP as well.

I imagine it’s like those Old West frontier “schools” where there was a single teacher who taught all the children in the town in a single classroom, regardless of their age. That system is somewhat workable if there are many in your peer group. But if the main curriculum is going over one’s A-B-C’s yet AGAIN, I can see why some of the older students might abandon that school – it’s just not worthwhile. And with the current explosion of new players, the RGP classroom is overwhelmingly flooded with First, Second, and Third-graders, and that unbalancing tide does not seem likely to clear up anytime soon. I still support the school, but not by attending it.

I did repost my last blog entry on RGP by request, and to show some support after being asked about it. But I’m quick to admit that if anything interesting has gone on there in the past year or two, I’ve missed it. I think it would be great if someone could catalogue some highlights and point slack readers there, but I don’t expect it to happen. I know I’ve probably missed some golden material to write about in that time, but the tradeoff of time saved is something I can’t overlook.

Which brings me to the second part of this entry: Reading from other sources and stealing material from it.

I received an email claiming that I stole my “Rocks and Rings” idea from another, much more popular blogger (extempore) on livejournal ( www.livejournal.com/users/extempore/ ). First off, I don’t really spend a lot of time “hunting” for material to write about when it comes to poker, it usually just comes up in the natural course of things. Secondly, extempore is someone I have had the highest respect for many years, and am a usually faithful reader of his writings – on any topic. Intelligence, wit, and articulateness are such a rare combination in this world that when one comes upon it, getting to feed on their words is almost like nourishment. Extempore is a Michelin Three-Star - I usually don’t like to miss a meal. And of course, if you have any intelligence yourself, reading others you respect influences you.

However I can honestly say that I have not read much of anything involving poker on the Internet for months, including his blog, at the very least dating back to the time of my previous post (two back). I was consumed with another project and all my Internet time was focused on completing it, which is the tunneled way I get when composing something for someone else.

Perhaps I am being way too sensitive to the accusation when it really can be seen as just one person’s perspective out of many, but its one that really bothered me. I have no problems about citing and crediting anything that deserves it when writing and the source is not obvious. Surprisingly enough, I do take that seriously. I really thought “Rocks and Rings” was something pretty new, brought to my attention by a friend who asked me to look at it (and never wants public citation). I was actually a bit embarrassed to learn after posting that that topic had been pretty well played out. I probably would not have written anything on it at all since it does seem derivative. I thought my post was still unique, but apparently some others did not. Not as an excuse, but my grammatical errors and redundancy in my last post should have given a clue that I actually didn’t spend much time writing it, including research. Either way, the idea was not intentionally stolen.

Which brings me to topic three: Bill Fillmaff.

This is something that I definitely learned about from extempore’s journal while I was investigating the “stolen” claim. I’ve been so out of it that I didn’t know the Bill Fillmaff site (http://www.planetstacked.com/fillmaff/ ) existed at all, while its probably old news to most others. Luckily for me, that meant that I got to experience it and see the first four films (Chapters) all at once. I’m hoping that Filmaff will do an “improved” reimaging of the “Size Doesn’t Matter” ad that he and Aimless Kook did promoting their online poker site for his photographs section. God I wish I had a picture of the original to send to him.

If I was just judging the *idea* for this website, I would give it an A+, but overall I think it’s ranks a bit below than that. Some parts are pretty clever and some of the pictures are just hilarious. The concept deserves kudos.

The photos I think are pretty solid. Still hoping they add one more, of course.

The production quality of the Chapter films is surprisingly good. The lighting and sound are pretty good, and even the occasional dip of the boom mike into the top of the frame adds to the laughs.

The side actors are a bit stiff but that should probably be expected. They aren’t given much to do though so they seem like they are just props. They could be used for even more laughs if used properly.

Fillmaff himself is pretty entertaining. He’s got a lot of the attitude and mannerism down, and the physical comedy is there – perhaps the best part.

Here is what I think is the weakness of the site. I just think the writing could be a bit better for the Chapter films. They remind me of Saturday Night Live skits where they have an initial funny concept, but then beat that one-note joke into the ground for seven straight minutes, with little variety. It’s entertaining at first, but then there are some big lulls in the middle and endgame as they repeat themselves. Only Fillmaff’s characterization and some of the pop-up advice screens save it.

Everything else Filmaff has gotten right, and I do appreciate the effort. He just needs better material to work from. It’s probably arrogant of me to say, especially after stating criticism, but I would love a crack at writing one of the Chapters of Bill Fillmaff. Not to say that it would be better (or even good for that matter), but I think that it would at least be differently paced and toned - sing a different note if you will. Even knowing that the parameters of budget and sets are limited, I would love a chance to do the dialogue. Too bad I didn’t think of it first (or put in the hard work filming and editing – again this deserves real kudos).

Despite this, I think the concept is very funny, and definitely hope it continues on, regardless of my pettiness.

Which leads to topic four: What the hell is up with Ultimate Bet’s marketing department?

Lets see, so UB gets Phil Hellmuth, Amir “Paris Hilton” Esfandiari, and Annie Duke as their chosen spokespeople. A unique three-of-a-kind, a “set” – set of losers that is. So isn’t it time that site renamed itself to something more appropriate? How about insufferableidiotsofpoker.com? Or unbridledannoyance.com? universallydespised.com? twatpoker.com? It should be renamed to something else to help with this unique branding opportunity.

Truly, what the hell are they thinking? It’s like they only want assholes in their stable. Wouldn’t you love to sit in on a meeting with the UB marketing guru who chose them in the first place? Imagine him making future choices, consulting with these current spokespeople? It might go like this:

[Scene: A boardroom. A pale white man in his late 40’s, known as the UB MARKETING MAVEN is pitching to his top spokesmen. Laughably, these “top spokesmen” are PHIL HELLMUTH, ANNIE DUKE, and AMIR “The Paris Hilton of Poker” ESFANDIARI. The Maven begins to speak…]

UB Marketing Maven (UBMM): Let’s get started. This meeting is about our marketing plans for the future, designed to meld seamlessly with our brilliant choices in the past. The past being, namely, you three beloved figures in the world of poker. In keeping with that…first up - as you know, I’ve been working on that exclusive cross promotion pact with our chosen target of marketing symbiosis - Scientology! Under this proposal, all UB members will be sent unending promotional material on Scientology via email in exchange for exclusive use of the Scientology logo and image of L.Ron Hubbard on everything, including on the site itself. Think of the words “100% Scientology sponsored and approved!” on all our ads, and the massive email plans we could do. If we can lock that up, our company image will skyrocket! Priceless, I tell you. But as it stands, their Grand Alien of the Terran Sector of Scientology is still reluctant to commit to the deal, so we are in a holding pattern.

Hellmuth: Well how many Bracelets does this bozo Grand Alien have? ZERO. Phil Hellmuth has nine, baby. NINE! Why does he get to be called the ‘Grand’ anything? GRAND Phil Hellmuth DEFINES UB baby, just don’t forget that Maven. Otherwise, I’m ok with that I guess, but only if the Grand Alien wears a philhellmuth.com hat whenever he speaks in public. Which should be an honor for him. We’ll see who's more GRAND.

Esfandiari (to UBMM): Loves it! That Scientology be just totally 1.4. Dude, Maven be On Point. ON POINT, yo! With them big head ideas o’ yours Maven, yo, I gots to say it – Dope idea be so pluckworthy! I be so proud of you Maven, I’s gonna give you that special permission everyone wants, yo. That’s right – permission to give me a “Bite” later on tonight. And this time, by “Bite” I’s don’t mean the usual call on me celly, baby [winks at Maven]. Yep - I mean you get to _really_ bite me tonight – AS IN HOTWIRE! You and ME, yo! That’s HOT!

Duke: I think I said the word “science” in the past two years at least once, so this Scientology pact was probably my idea. But I’m glad you brought up my idea, so keep working on that.

UBMM: Next on our list is Mike Tyson. Think of the ad possibilities. Just picture Mike Tyson towering behind a grabbing-his-ankles Hellmuth with the words ‘Rape your poker opponents online like I raped my prison bunkmates!’ as the ad copy. Golden I tell you – it might be more popular than our “Size Doesn’t Matter” campaign with you, Phil. However Mike is still learning to spell his name, so until that happens we aren’t likely to get him to sign the deal anytime soon.

Hellmuth: What the hell has Mike Tyson ever done that is so great? He hasn’t won a single goddamn Gold Bracelet, let alone nine! Tyson hasn’t been a champion in anything! Well, at least not in anything important like poker. Any ass can become a [airquotes] “World Champion” in boxing. And what up with the “Tyson towering over me” bullshit? The Eiffel Fucking Tower doesn’t even stand taller than the Golden Nine on my wrists baby, let alone some mere human. No way.

UBMM: But if we shoot the ad right, you will be bent over and leaning INTO the camera Phil. Your face will be dominating the ad then. Sure, you will need to pretend you’re grimacing in pain, but…

Hellmuth: My face will be close in towards the camera? Shit, why didn’t you say so Maven. I’m in. But I’m ALL-IN - Phil Hellmuth doesn’t go half-way. Meaning no fake grimacing, we make Tyson REALLY make me grimace. Make him earn that honored spot standing next to me. Otherwise, tell him to screw off.

UBMM: Excellent.

Esfandiari (to UBMM): Fuckin’ "A" my nigga. You aint be no Budget Boy when it comes ta ideas, yo. I is so excitable right now, I be desiring to Turbo Shop! TURBO SHOP YO’ SWEET DEEP DISH ASS THAT IS, MAVEN! You just be total 1.4 my man!

Duke: I believe I mentioned that I saw boxing on TV recently, so you probably built off of that idea of mine, Maven. I just love this idea of mine, and I’m glad you did a small bit of work on it. Keep paying for that tutor for Tyson, just let him know it was my idea.

UBMM: Of course. Pushing on, on our ‘Home Run’ marketing front, in play still is our attempt to sign Osama bin Laden to that exclusive endorsement deal. Our hired mercenaries are still looking for him in the Afghan / Pakistan hills. If they find him and sign him, the “I came out of hiding just to play poker at UB!” ad with Osama will hit the next print cycle immediately. That will capture the hearts of Americans and people worldwide, just like you three have. Even if we can’t find him, the UB hats and T-shirts our mercenaries are wearing while killing natives during the hunt are sure to capture large market share in the hotly contested Pakistani-Mountains market.

Duke: If we do get this Osamy guy, will we be in the ad with him?

UBMM: I would hope so!

Hellmuth: Osama bin WHO? Shit, NO ONE knows who that is anymore. Why dilute my universally known image with some freakin’ unimportant NOBODY? People know Phil Hellmuth, not some turban dude who is so 4-years-ago. Get with it man, get with the times, Phil Hellmuth is the only world stage superstar! And Phil Hellmuth stands alone on that stage, baby, spotlight always ON HIM!

UBMM (sigh): We’ll give you the center spot in the photo, Phil.

Hellmuth: Oh. I’m all for it then.

Paris Esfandiari: That be totally Rocks and Rings! [starts screaming like a lunatic in Maven’s face] ROCKS AND RINGS! ONE-POINT-FOUR! ROCKS AND RINGS! ONE-POINT-FOUR! ROCKS AND RINGS! ONE-POINT-FOUR! ROCKS AND RINGS! ONE-POINT-FOUR! ROCKS AND RINGS! ONE-POINT-FOUR! ROCKS AND RINGS! ONE-POINT-FOUR! …..

Duke: Osama bin Laden, Phil Hellmuth, Paris Esfandiari, and me, Annie Duke! UB's newest Four-of-a-kind! How can UB possibly be stopped!?! Damn I’m good. I'm just brilliant in everything I do. You can all thank me later.

[End]

Unintentional Comedy in the World of Poker 001

Wed, 01 Jun 2005 13:00:49 GMT

Time to mine the world of poker for High Order Unintentional Comedy.

Candidate #1 – The previous UB print ads with Phil Hellmuth and Annie Duke leaning against each other, back to back, with the words “Size Doesn’t Matter!” splashed in 40-point fonts. Found in Cra pLayer magazine and others I’m sure, as recently as 3 months ago (don’t know if its still running as I haven’t seen CP in a while.) It’s a play on the tall Hellmuth standing against the much shorter Duke, but…

I’m surprised others haven’t jumped all over this as high order unintentional comedy. When I first saw it, I was just floored that the PR / Marketing/ Other lackeys that look after all things Hellmuth could let such an obvious opportunity for mockery slide under their watchful eyes. My hope is that most people have no idea who the “girl” in the ad is at all, and just think to themselves “Oh, that’s brave of Hellmuth and his wife. Must be some kind of public service announcement about ‘inner beauty’ meant for inner-city hooligans possibly driven to anger by their small dicks.” The only thing that could have made it a classic is if Duke and Hellmuth were facing each other, with Duke unmistakably staring at Hellmuth’s crotch with a super-consoling, super-motherly look on her face and the “Size Doesn’t Matter!” copy actually put in quotes, as if Duke were speaking. Better yet, make it appear in a dialogue bubble emanating from her mouth.

I think it would be great if this line of ad-copy became the standard response to all things Hellmuth. I mean, doesn’t a lot of his over inflated ego and anger seem to fit perfectly with overcompensation for a staggering insecurity? Now we have this wonderful ad to confirm this view, as well as point out what the source is of Phil’s self-loathing turned outwards. Now, if you see Hellmuth drive up in a fancy car? “Hey Phil, Size Doesn’t Matter, as long as ‘tiny’ gets to ride around in a Mercedes!” Hellmuth berates you at the table? “Phil, Phil, Phil…when are you going to take it truly to heart that Size Doesn’t Matter, and your wife is just fine with your acorn? Stop showing so much displaced anger over it. Really having a functionally sized penis is overrated, so there is no need to be angry. Except when it comes to sex of course, but how important is that?” Hellmuth starts to cry after being busted out of a tournament? “Phil, take it easy man. It’s not that big of a deal. As long as you have your health and your family, nothing else matters. Not even having a penis so small that you have to pee using the principles of reverse osmosis. It really doesn’t matter. Get your perspective back.”

I see a lot of websites where they take a funny ad or weird concept and a group of members play around with it in Photoshop to create hilarious parodies (i.e. Like this one, “If Rednecks Ruled the World”: http://www.worth1000.com/cache/contest/contestcache.asp?contest_id=5845&display=photoshop#entries ). If there ever was a candidate for such treatment in the poker world, Hellmuth’s “Size Doesn’t Matter” ad is it. Someone with some space on a webserver – I’m begging you, make this happen.

Unintentional Comedy Rating – 8 out of 10.

Candidate #2

From the World Poker Tour. Season Two, the Foxwoods World Poker Finals. A big hand develops heads-up between Hoyt Corkins and Mohamed Ibrahim, the last two players left standing. Corkins is on the button, and is dealt the KdQs. He just calls. Ibrahim looks at a Kh8d and checks his option, so here comes the flop – Jh8s7s. Ibrahim checks his middle pair, Corkins checks behind him. Turn card – the Ks, a good action card. With two pair, Ibrahim checks again. Corkins bets about half the pot. Ibrahim check-raises him the size of the pot. Corkins, with Top pair and a decent flush draw, moves all in, not realizing he is a 29-14 dog. But there are three spades out there (and Ibrahim doesn’t have one in his hand) as well as a straight possibility, so there is some tension. Ibrahim goes into a deep think. Finally Ibrahim folds his winning two pair, obviously believing Corkins had him beat. Worse, after mucking, Ibrahim retrieves his cards and turns them face up to show what he folded.

Nothing funny about that so far. The killer is the *reaction shot of Ted Forrest* in the crowd. It must be seen to be believed, so here it is, view it before reading on. (Thanks to ‘Proxy’ for editing and posting the clip):

http://rapidshare.de/files/2106182/forrest_oh_my_lordy_lord.mpg.html

(Quick guide for those unfamiliar with Rapidshare. Click on the link above, then scroll down and choose “Free”. You will be issued a ‘wait-ticket’ and made to wait about 60 seconds. You can see a countdown of your wait time by scrolling down to the bottom of the new page. After the wait, the filename will appear (same page, where the timer was), you can left click on it to bring up the download options of your browser or right click on it and choose ‘Save Target/Link As’ and put it in some folder location. After downloading, open the file to view it in whatever media player you use (MPEG format, 9 MB size).

Done watching? I know, Proxy added the 3 extra reactions on the end for flair; Forrest didn’t do it 4 times in a row. But let’s give the Warren Commission treatment to this little piece of film to make sure we harvest all aspects of this unintentional comedy goldmine. When Ibrahem folds his big hand, and then turns it face-up, it is a pretty shocking moment that naturally elicits an honest response from the crowd. So we can assume that the follow-up reactions are totally unguarded and in-the-moment, bypassing the brain’s image-protecting mechanisms and revealing one’s true self nakedly. Ted Forrest’s reaction? He could not have had a more girly, more castrated reaction if someone let it leak that his secret collection of pictures of himself wearing women’s panties are now on the Internet (instead of staying safe in my private collection, of course).

It’s that shrinking lily, only-small-girls-watching-a-horror-movie-acceptable type wincing he has that forms the bedrock of the comedy. The tower of unintentional laughs is built on it further a second into it by Forrest’s rapid eye blinking as his brain snaps back into the present, his blank humiliated look on his face in the realization that he just let that effete reaction slip out. You can then practically see the auto-damage-control-program firing on all cylinders to try to recover, forcing his hands back to his side and his face contorting back to a manlier demeanor, as if to convince himself that his feminine body ballet really didn’t happen, his brain desperately trying to purge the memory imprint of it all. You can almost see the thought bubble above his head saying, “I hope no one saw that, and if not, I’ll deny it happened to my grave.” Adding even more to the hilarity is the guy in the white shirt sitting to Forrest’s left (our right), who clearly witnesses the whole thing from Forrest, gets a half-quizzical, half-disbelief look on his face, and then, consciously or subconsciously, leans FAR away from Forrest, screaming “DISASSOCIATION!” with his body language. Or at least I like to see it that way. That reaction shot alone has elevated that episode of the WPT to ‘do not delete’ status on the Tivo.

It makes me wonder, what else could get that classic shocked-shy-Japanese-school-girl reaction from Ted? Perhaps:

· Realizing that he forgot about a once a year shoe sale
· Seeing a mouse
· Thinking of Jennifer’s feelings when she sees Brad and Angelina photos
· Being told his butt looks fat in those jeans he's wearing
· Witnessing Brian Boitano slip in a routine while performing in "Holiday on Ice"
· Seeing Tom Cruise on Oprah
· Being told “I just saw your underwear!”
· Hearing a naughty poopie joke

I think the WPT needs to use this golden footage to the point of absurdity. I’m not a fan of out-of-sequence editing and fake insertion shots in what is supposed to be a real-time event, but in this case I’m all for it. Use it for EVERYTHING. Anytime anyone moves all-in? Show the Forrest Shot. It gets heads up and they do that cheesy money presentation ceremony? Zoom into the pile of money, and then - show the Forrest Shot. Vince Van Patten makes a lame joke? Show the Forrest Shot. Everyone folds preflop and the Big Blind gets a walk? SHOW THE FORREST SHOT. I don’t care if they are outdoors in Aruba and the background obviously does not match up – JUST KEEP SHOWING THAT DAMN SHOT!

In fact, why stop there? Why not create a whole industry of selling reaction shots from one show to another? Any reality show that needs to emphasize a moment so SHOCKING (!!!), it could make a grown man react like a little girl should be able to buy this clip and use it, as it is the ultimate expression of it. So if Ian decides to voluntarily quit Survivor (and give up a million dollars) when it’s down to just 3 players? Let Ian give his speech – and then immediately slam-cut to the Forrest Shot! The Bachelor dumps someone he’s groped heavily and previously declared his love for in the last round (which I assume is still happening every year in that show)? Let the Bachelor give his B.S. story to her, show her tears - and then show the Forrest Shot. Trump fires Brad for giving up his immunity in the boardroom? Show Brad’s humiliation – then SHOW TED!

All right, I know I’m not being fair. From what little I know of Forrest personally, I actually think he is a decent (if somewhat strange) guy, and not nearly on the level of deserving mockery as Hellmuth. Just purely speculating, I’d say his schoolgirl reaction is more likely to be triggered by something like the IRS is launching an investigation looking for hidden millions in offshore accounts than any of the above scenarios, which would really be pretty manly. But like sudden diarrhea caused by bad seafood in a restaurant, Unintentional Comedy strikes indiscriminately and unfairly, inevitably damaging the image of the sufferer of its watery embrace.

Unintentional Comedy Rating – Solid 7 out of 10.

Candidate #3 – magicantonio.com

First the link: http://www.magicantonio.com/

I’ve always been puzzled about a seemingly paradoxical, yet seemingly axiomatic aspect of poker. Once the myriad of mechanics and catalogue of plays in poker are mastered, a big part that distinguishes winners from losers in the game is awareness. But somehow, no matter how keenly aware a player is about everything going on in his environment and other people, they are among the least SELF-aware people outside of the graveyard.

Take Esfandiari’s website for example. Like most vanity websites, it’s solely focused on declaring the greatness of its owner, to build a monument to ego, and this one is no exception. It does take it a step further by referring to himself in the Third Person (i.e. from the website: “You've seen Antonio win, right?” “Can you imagine that Antonio -- magic though he may be -- loses more tournaments than he wins?” “And guys like Antonio, guys who smell fear like sharks smell blood, will absolutely eat your lunch.”) as if trying to convince us that it was someone else who wrote this glowing text and was so excited by All That Is Antonio that this mysterious fan built this homage, when not anyone save those stuck living in Delusionland would think that were the case. It also follows the pattern of talking about nothing else but himself and how much better of a human he is than you, which, I guess, should be expected from any vanity site, but it is still repulsive to experience nonetheless. Please stop masturbating in front of us, Antonio.

But just as you think its just another orgy-of-the-self website, it shatters all expectations of reason and reality by kicking up the delusion to the stratosphere. There it is for all to see (proudly if you can believe it), the ultimate display of accidental self-parody - Esfandiari’s “Rocks and Rings” page, which is being chiseled into the granite entrance wall at the Unintentional Comedy Hall of Fame as we speak. The word “flabbergasted” was created just to apply to people reading this legendary page of text:

http://www.magicantonio.com/rocks-n-rings.php

Lets break it down:

Website: “ROCKS AND RINGS

In the history of humanity there have been many secret orders: The Free and Accepted Masons; the Hickenloopers; the Gnomes of Zurich. Some of these groups are bent on global domination, while others just, you know, want to have fun.”

Like all raging egomaniacs, the only “secret” Antonio wants any part of is one that he can tell the whole world about on his website so he can seem more special. This is almost as bad as going extremely out of your way to post your big money W-2 form on the Internet after cashing in a tournament, just to show off.

Website: “It's in the latter category that you'll find Rocks and Rings (or R&R as its shorthandedly known), a posse comprised of Antonio and his closest friends, guys who really know how to party -- and seem determined to teach the world this skill, one nightclub at a time.”

Ironic how “Rocks and Rings” (or R&R as its shorthandedly known) rolls off the tongue a hell of a lot like “Dungeons and Dragons (or D&D as its shorthandedly known). You think there might be a connection when this “swarm of nerdness” was trying to come up with a group name? And besides self-proclamation, how did they determine that they were all-knowing about the party experience and thus the rightful teachers of the rest of us on their technique? Did they gain enough experience points so that their Dungeon Master could not deny them the title of “Master Partiers”?

Lets look at it objectively – Antonio spent his time practicing magic in his formative years, which just reeks of loser nerd-stink. I mean, what, did learning to speak Klingon prove to be too difficult? Didn’t the lonely nerd grasping for acceptance through magic exist everywhere in all high schools hallways, limping along like a desperate beggar, to the scorn of all others? Sure, you might watch him do his little tricks for you, if just to see the Red Sea levels of salty flop sweat appear on his lips if the head cheerleader was watching too, but afterward you never upgraded his status from “nerd”, did you? No, you SOLIDIFIED it. I know, his little magic trick might buy him one more day of not being hung up on the flagpole by his underwear from the easily impressed jocks, but it never, NEVER made him cool. Maybe cooler to his fellow Eagle Scouts when he was presented with the “Magic” merit badge, but not to anyone else. We all went to high school, so you know I’m not lying.

Then he and his friends thought it would be cool to give themselves a Sooper-Secret group name, complete with goofy costumes, midnight rituals (involving group nakedness, no doubt), and the unspoken lets-not-admit-we're-losers agreements. And instead of a swift veto, they readily accept “Rock and Rings” as their group title? Was “Dorks and Queens” taken?

Website: “WHO ARE ROCKS AND RINGS?
Antonio Esfandiari, President.
Koosh Mohajeri, Founder and Chairman
Jeff Christina, Executive Vice President for Recreational Affairs.
Khash Chamlou, AKA Khash-Money-GQ, Chief Financial Officer.
Tony Licari, Executive Vice President of Female Affairs.
Monin Martin, AKA The Mexican, Princess of Rocks and Rings”

Unbelievable. These geeks take this so seriously, they are handing out titles. But as long as they are, why hold back on the public? What about the positions we want to know more of? Who was promoted from their past Director of Clearasil post into a their current VP position? Who acts as the Procurement Officer for Anime and Manga? Who is the CFO of Multi-colored Dice and Lead Figurines? Who is the Vice President of Hot Pockets? The public demands disclosure.

Website: “WHAT'S THE POSSE'S PHILOSOPHY?

Eudamonism: A lifestyle of hedonism tempered by reason.”

How about ‘Poseurism’ = A lifestyle of role-playing tempered by denial.

Website: “HOW DO THEY TALK?

From the name forward -- derived from the P. Diddy song, I Need a Girl (Part 2) -- R&R has a language all its own. Here's a sample glossary.

1.4. Homage to the $1.4 million that Antonio won at the 2004 LA Poker Classic, now an R&R seal of approval. "This party is a total 1.4."

BABY. An attractive young lady -- in homage to the classic movie Swingers, and in full respect to the lady in question.

BITE. An incoming cell phone call, especially from a baby. "I've got to step outside and take this bite."

BUDGET BOY. A term of disdain directed toward anyone who contemplate the price of a purchase. "If you have to ask, Budget Boy, you can't afford it."

DEEP DISH. Excellent house music.

HOTWIRE. To hook up. If you hotwire, you don't go home alone.

ON POINT. A) In charge of organizing the party. B) Locked in; in the zone. "Koosh was totally on point last night. No wonder he hotwired."

ROCKS AND RINGS. An all-purpose adjective to describe something of high quality or style. "How Rocks and Rings are these shoes?"

PLUCKWORTHY HONEY. A baby worthy of further attention.

TURBO SHOPPING. Buying clothing under the gun, where money is no object and second-guessing is not allowed.”

No comment really necessary, the arrogance and unintentional comedy flow from this as naturally as Vaseline into an R&R members’ palm.

Website: “WHERE WILL YOU FIND THEM?

In the finest restaurants, bars, clubs and after-hours hidden hot spots. The more exclusive it is -- the harder you have to work to perpetrate past the velvet ropes and bouncers' glares -- the more likely you are to find R&R there.

Once inside, don't expect to see members of Rocks and Rings "running laps to the bar like the proletariat." No, they'll be set up at their own private table, anchored by bottles of top-shelf booze, drawing pluckworthy honeys like moths to the proverbial flame.

They travel by limo. They jet off to Vegas. Or Costa Rica. Paris. In a sense it doesn't matter where they shoot to or how they arrive because they place they are will instantly become the place to be. To paraphrase Crowded House, "Everywhere you go, you always take the party with you."

Ah, the craze that is sweeping the nation – Attitude over Aptitude. Isn’t this the ultimate declaration of being monumentally superficial and fake? How fucking cluelessly hypocritical is it to declare one’s self a unique trendsetter, but then only care to be in “it” places? The only treasure they seek is exclusivity? Exclusivity is the honey glazing the trap that preys on the weakly desperate, trying to find sources of confidence that they don’t get elsewhere. It’s like that old joke about not wanting to belong to any club that would have him as a member. Grow fucking up.

We all know that insecurity is the engine that drives this constant need for validation. And who can give them this validation? The fucking MEATHEAD BOUNCER, who’s claim to greatness is having an boxing record of 5-20 and can barely remember his name, let alone sharply judge what is “worthy” in this world. Bouncers’ stiff elitist attitude comes from excruciating inner-bitterness about what they have become and how truly little they have to contribute to this world other than physical labor, so they take it out on everyone around them. Yet R&R see them as St. Peter guarding the fucking pearly gates.

Maybe they should change their philosophy from “Eudamonism” to the more aptly named “Parishiltonism”. Retards.

Website: “A DIVIDED WORLD

The world is divided into two parts: Things that are Rocks and Rings, and things that are not. Herewith, a reference table of same.

_________________________ROCKS AND RINGS / NOT ROCKS AND RINGS
Television_______________World Poker Tour / Trading Spaces
Music____________________Fast hip-hop / Top 40
Artist___________________Eminem / Dixie Chicks
Movies___________________Matrix, Casino, Scarface / Ishtar, Beaches, Sleepless in Seattle
Clothes__________________Armani Black Label / Dockers Relaxed Fit
Settling a bill__________Gambling for the check / Going Dutch
Car______________________Prowler / Mini-Cooper
Poker book_______________Killer Poker / Play Tight to Win
Store____________________Sharper Image / Target
Potent potable___________Kelt Cognac XO / Michelob Ultra
Smokable_________________Cuban Cohibas / Cigarettes
“

I like the deleted entries a lot better:

Size:
Not Rocks and Rings: Large
Rock and Rings: “Venti”

Honesty:
Not Rocks and Rings: Pretending to be someone else
Rock and Rings: Pretending to be Italian when being from the Middle East falls out of “fashion” (i.e. changing your name from Amir to Antonio.)

Diversions:
Not Rocks and Rings: Coldplay on the stereo
Rock and Rings: Assplay in the R&R HQ’s basement

Interaction with women:
Not Rocks and Rings: “Ok, you saw ‘Scarface’ for me, so I’ll see ‘Sleepless in Seattle’ for you.”
Rock and Rings: “Hey Pluckworthy Honey Baby, what do you tell a woman with two black eyes? NOTHING - YOU ALREADY TOLD HER TWICE! BwaaaaHaaaaHa! Dude that’s totally Rocks and Rings!”

Friends:
Not Rocks and Rings: Leeches
Rock and Rings: “Lifelong Celebrators of the ‘1.4’ ”

Style:
Not Rocks and Rings: Cheap rim jobs given to decked-out SUVs
Rock and Rings: Cheap rim jobs given to decked-out fellow R&R members

If I didn’t already know that Esfandiari was actually real, I would be convinced that this site was a virally-propped PR plant by one of Danny Boy Negreanu’s "braintrust" to try to convince people further that Danny Boy isn’t secretly the number one self-absorbed, self-important phony camera-preening asshole fame-whore in poker. But now that I am convinced of the website’s authenticity, I honestly need to re-evaluate who is the most loathsome, totally self-loving delusional ego heralding Satan’s arrival by capturing the public’s embrace with their ‘cute’ (and totally self-aware as well as self-serving) images.

Website: “THE LAST WORD

So what is Rocks and Rings? A boys' club? An attitude? A way of life? An excuse to, as the Beastie Boys put it, "Fight for your right to party?" A swarm-and-conquer strategy for meeting women? All of that, and more, much more. If you want to be Rocks and Rings, all you have to do is make style your watchword, strike an attitude of invincibility and never put a price on anything. Rocks and Rings rules! “

Instead of giving R&R the Last Word, I think reader Ponch, a much more objective bystander to this whole deal, should have the final say. Ponch, after viewing the magicantonio.com website for yourself, do you have anything to say to Antonio?

Ponch’s response: http://tinyurl.com/rrmn

Unintentional Comedy Rating – 147 out of 10. Space-time is collapsing around it.

"Steroids for Poker" – The First Performance Enhancing Drug for Mental Competition?

Wed, 23 Mar 2005 03:43:00 GMT

I am a person of science. It takes a lot of convincing evidence for me to believe in something, particularly when it comes to topics involving enhancing mental facilities. I have read plenty of books and articles on the current state of developing ‘smart drugs’, and the mechanisms by which they work and the path the future holds for this kind of research. For thoroughness and amusement, I also studied a lot of the grayer areas in mental enhancement, from the mystical to the all-natural techniques. Since I am also a steadfast believer in experiencing things to augment and validate knowledge gained from books (as is necessary, just like in poker), I have tried some very strange concoctions or techniques that profess to enhance mental abilities, all with negligible effects.

Caffeine is already well documented as a very short-term memory/alertness booster, which the body quickly builds a tolerance for and requires greater amounts to produce this small effect. It can quickly become a mental enhancing negative, as one might need great amounts just to feel normal – not a good situation for long mental activity. Harder drugs, such as the amphetamine class, can no doubt increase energy and alertness, but to a hyper state, where the newfound charge is not useful to playing “quiet” mental games like poker. They usually leave a person so jittery and disjointed that it too quickly becomes a very negative “dishancement”.

The herbal class of smart drugs, such as ginseng, ginkgo biloba, and the B-Vitamin precursors, all have extensive literature and sometimes a biological explanation to why they might work, but failed in my own personal experimentation with them. Perhaps these “naturals” would produce some level of increased mental acuity if taken for long periods (which I still doubt), but they do not produce an instantaneous “punch” within a very short time frame, which I believe is what one envisions with taking a ‘smart drug’, similar to using aspirin for a headache. At least that was what I was personally looking for – something that one could take to boost mental alertness and recall very quickly, with a prolonged effect and no uncontrolled side effects like hyperactivity or loss of emotional control. It seemed like smart drugs were still mostly situated in the realm of science fiction.

Recently I came across another candidate. Marketed under the brand name “Provigil”, generic name Modafinil, it was developed as a narcolepsy combatant by the Pharmaceutical company Cephalon. What interested me most were recent double-blind experiments in Europe with Modafinil to test its ability in subjects in acquiring new knowledge and memorizing facts. Modafinil had also begun testing in the U.S. Military as a combat aid for soldiers during long duty in dangerous situations, where alertness was at a premium. Modafinil tested very well in both cases – the European subjects using Modafinil tested significantly better than the placebo set in learning and memorizing new facts, and did extraordinarily well when both test groups were very sleep deprived. The Military studies found similar results for extending alertness during combat missions. These experiments started to be published in mainstream media sources, such as the Los Angeles Times, the New York Times, even some science and medical journals – enough to make me take the findings more seriously.

Further “underground” research sources uncovered that there is a growing trend of popularity and use of Modafinil on campuses across America, where an almost cult-like reverence is given to the drug for allowing the takers of it to study longer and outperform their classmates without the drug. Many of the messages posted by students using Modafinil felt that they needed to continue with it, just to keep pace. Their feeling was that the competitive disadvantage without it was too severe, especially when competing with others who were using the drug in classes graded on a bell-curve.

My curiosity was stimulated, to say the least. Getting my hands on Modafinil proved to be a simple matter, and I procured a supply of 200mg doses. The pills are white and tasteless, with only the fear of the unknown causing any hesitation in ingesting one. “For Science” I thought to myself as I took one and downed it with a bottle of water. Since my main interest was in Modafinil’s effects while playing poker, I began playin online games, proceeding with caution.

As I discovered in my research, the effects of the drug would not be noticeable for at least a half-hour, so I made myself a breakfast burrito and played a few orbits, anxious to see what would happen. It was not a wholesale change in outlook or any physical sensation. What I noticed was that suddenly the low-limit game held my total interest, despite the stakes and the fact it was only one table. I looked at the time on the bottom-right of my computer, and was surprised to learn that ninety minutes had already passed, unnoticed because of my acute focus on the players in the game. My burrito had only been half-eaten, which I forgot about, as it did not interest me as much as focusing on player tendencies. I poured as much interest and analysis in the game as much as if I were playing for the highest stakes. My note taking was long and detailed. My ability to notice multi-player combination plays as they occurred in real-time was unmistakably improved.

Though I do not want to endorse any meta-physical abilities, I did feel a sense of displaced time, where I had such high concentration on what players were like and what they were going to do in the game that it did feel a bit like predicting the immediate future with great accuracy. This predictive ability might have been an illusion caused by my mind’s willingness to calculate multiple scenarios very quickly and thus when one of the scenarios “came true”, it felt like I had already done the thought process for it. I very rarely had time when I did not know what I was going to do almost instantaneously, never feeling like a situation required some more time for thought. Conscious that this type of feeling and fast-play also occurs when drunk or NOT thinking straight, I had some concerns that Modafinil might be adversely affecting my game, but the distinct difference was that I was able to truly calculate the variables and run it through many logical gates as I normally would, and could not do under the influence of alcohol. My thinking was crystal clear, focused, and because of my seemingly magical new ability to highly predict others’ actions (due to concentrating hard on their play) as never before, seemed abnormally fast as I was able to determine variables and crunch them in thought, ready to act as soon as I had to. It was as though time was either expanded, or the units of thought I was able to generate per unit of time was greatly compressed within the same frame.

The next logical step was capacity testing. Normally I can play a maximum of 3 tables simultaneously with what I consider my ‘informed game’, meaning that I was taking specific player tendencies and current flow of the games into direct account before acting. I am willing to play more than 3 tables with what I called my “damaged game”, meaning I consciously know that, because of the added amounts of opponents with each new table, I will not be able to keep track of all the variables at once, and thus I will miss opportunities where a variance play would be more effective in a given situation. When one plays a lot of tables at once, one is forced to “default” actions a lot of the time because the players change so frequently online, and also because it is difficult to keep track of who might in an altered emotional state. Short-handed games alter this decreased tracking effect even more, as one tends to devote more focus on the “shorty” than the other tables. Everyone is different of course, but for me personally, my comfort level where I don’t feel like I’m giving up anything due to distractions is 3 tables, or 27 simultaneous opponents.

With Modafinil, I found that I was able to extend my ‘informed game’ to 6 tables with relative ease. I added other tables one at a time, lingering on the newly added variables until I felt I had a good read on the players and game, which usually took about 30 minutes or so, while still involved with my previous tables. My increased attention to detail allowed me to reliably track player movements on all tables, most importantly when new players came into any game. By this slow growing process, I felt the ability to scale attention to over 50 simultaneous players, with perhaps the capacity for more as my experience in this situation grew.

[As a side-note to technique, it was vitally important that none of my active tables overlapped with any other, blocking the information as it streamed in. My personal set-up for this was using a video card with dual monitor outputs, two 21-inch monitors set to 1600x1200 resolution on each, and placing the monitors side-by-side and sitting “in between” the two, as opposed to having one directly in front of me and one to the side. Basically the idea is to have all the action visible without needing to shift one’s eyes or head around, and relying on the increased awareness of Modafinil to keep track of where each player you were facing was sitting, which is normally difficult since their names/avatars are “shrunken” at 1600x1200 resolution and multiple actions are taking place simultaneously. Its similar to the ‘speed reading’ techniques taught in the early 90’s, except that this actually works in terms of retaining the information effectively. I did stick to full tables only at first, so that the action points occurred a bit more slowly and the pacing on the tables were similar. ]

In further experiments since then, I find that I can include short-handed games into the mix, but strangely it is best for me personally to only have 2 shorties active out of the six, and to arrange the six games in an upside-down triangle arrangement, 3 per monitor, with the shorties on the bottom of both monitors. The numbers I generated as my results for this arrangement, though still preliminary, seems to confirm that my per hour results are very close to scaling 1:1 with those I had playing 3 tables without Modafinil, indicated that I am not suffering the normal loss of efficiency as one adds more simultaneous tables than one is attuned to playing. If my results non-Modafinil could be arbitrarily ranked as a “3” on a given scale for three simultaneous tables, my results for six tables on Modafinil would be “5.72” - some loss, but well above what I would expect given the doubling of load.

Finally there is the durability question. Normally, when playing live poker or 1-2 online games, my limit for one continuous session without a significant (i.e. hour long) break is about six hours – not as large as one might expect for a professional player. I used to be able to go much longer when I first started out, but over time, either age or general loss of passion for the game has reduced my single-session sit time. I just find myself wondering about what is happening outside, thinking about other things like books or movies, or just start to feel restless that I have spent so much time sitting and not really creating anything of use (one of my dislikes about the poker life). When playing 3 tables simultaneously for high stakes, my limit usually topped out at 4-5 hours before growing tired or bored.

Modafinil changes these “restlessness limits” drastically. As I noted in my first experiment with Modafinil, I became so tunneled in to what I was doing, concentrating so hard on doing it well, that in fact I loss track of time quite easily, even forgetting to eat (or acknowledge hunger, though I did feel it.). The first hint I had indicating how long I had been going without a break was when I noticed the sun going down and the need to turn on artificial lights. I was so enthralled with what was happening that there was nothing I wanted to do more than continue the experiment, and thus my mind did not wander, did not start to think that life outside was much more interesting like it usually does. I ended up going a full 14 hours on six tables before stopping, with just a few pee breaks and enough time to make and eat a sandwich somewhere in the mix.

Even after stopping, I did not feel exhausted or spent, but rather interested in doing more activities to see how Modafinil might be affecting my senses. I listened to music (you notice lyrics more), watched a few DVD’s (you notice ambient sounds much more), and wrote a few pages (typing is even faster, finishing something you started before is much easier, starting something completely new is more difficult because you get flooded with thoughts and ideas). I had been up for 19 hours, and though I felt I should be “sleepy”, and did in fact feel some difference in my mentality, I did not feel so tired that I was sluggish. I never yawned once or found myself lacking focus. As the final test, I showered, got into bed, and picked up my reading from a book on the Riemann Hypothesis. I expected to have the eyelid-jitters, where I would basically pass out or find myself reading the same sentence over and over while my lids tried to shut. After two full chapters with very acceptable understanding (amazed), and hitting the 24 hour mark of being awake, I made the conscious decision to stop and see if I could fall asleep. Though it was again daylight, after putting the book down and settling in, I fell asleep within minutes.

One final effect is the amount of sleep needed after taking Modafinil. As I am lucky enough not to have needed to set my alarm clock, I planned to sleep in as long as my body wanted. I found myself naturally waking after only 5 hours of sleep, completely alert and ready to get up, when normally I require 7 hours, and maybe more after being up 24 straight. Normally when I (and I’m sure most others) do not get enough sleep, I feel it for the rest of the day as a lingering fogginess, a listlessness in action and thought. I did not have this feeling at all, but felt very refreshed and eager to get moving, like a child would be for a family trip to Disneyland that day. This was the last surprise of my experiment with Modafinil. It drastically effects the same night’s sleep requirement in order to feel refreshed and alert for the following day. In prolonged sessions of continuously taking Modafinil, I found the cycle of 19 sharp, effective hours followed by 5 hours of sleep to be sustainable, seemingly without end. Even deep into the continuous experiment, I did not feel the drag of missing sleep catching up with me. Sleeping was not hard to come by, but never did I feel compelled to “crash” because I was just too exhausted, even from accumulated long days.

Summary of relevant experience:

· One 200 mg dose is effective within 30 minutes, and lasts at least 14 hours, more if you “want” it to. Though you can go to sleep at your normal time without the drug interfering, you can also continue doing vigorous mental activities for longer if you just do it. You do not yawn or feel sluggish, even though your mind/body does start to indicate that it might be time to sleep in some fashion, but this feeling does not “take over” and knock you out.

· Increasing dosage does not increase the effect, only the time it lasts by an additional 4 hours or so. Decreased dosage, say half a pill (100mg), seems to effect both alertness levels and working time, giving just a minor boost in concentration, and still allows drowsiness late in the day.

· The effects of full dosage Modafinil seems to sustain itself even over prolonged times of taking it. The maximum time I personally used it for was 12 days in a row, each day finding the need for sleep slightly decreasing from 5 hours at the beginning to about 4 towards the end. Concentration and alertness levels seemed to stay at its high level, though you get used to it and might discount its effects after 3-4 days. It is most noticeable the days after discontinued usage, where once again I felt sleepy after big meals and found myself surfing websites instead of fully concentrating on my online games after stoppage of use.

· I did not detect mood swings, nor did my associates who knew of my experiments. They claimed I was a bit more talkative, and perhaps more serious overall, but I was still “myself”.

· Modafinil did not seem to effect my eating, except when it caused me to get engrossed in a particular activity to such a degree that I put off eating. It may have slight sexual side-effects, not effecting interest but performance. It makes sex a more cerebral experience, where you are studying the situation instead of just enjoying it at a primal level (like you should). It did not effect arousal or cause dysfunction. If anything, it makes one last longer, because you experience sex in a different manner, somewhat clinically. You never get ‘lost’ in the moment, but tend to analyze it all.

· Quitting Modafinil was personally very easy for me, so I did not detect a physical addiction. However, I can easily see why it might cause a psychological dependency, as it is both very useful and enjoyable to have a seemingly inexhaustible supply of mental energy. If you are one who dreads wasting time due to tiredness, or just hate it when you do not feel your sharpest, Modafinil provides an easy solution to this - and perhaps a long-term danger of addiction.

· It is not useful as a recreational drug. You do not really feel euphoria or tingling or any overt sensation. You notice its effect when you focus on something and concentrate, where it allows you to do so effortlessly. You can still get quite bored under its influence if you are stuck in an activity that is mundane. You will feel awake and never doze off, and can do a mundane activity for prolonged streches, but if your mind has nothing ‘real’ to focus on, you will still feel neutral.

· Though this article focuses on Modafinil’s effect for poker, I found it useful in just about any activity where I needed to be sharp mentally.

· I personally have discontinued my use of Modafinil. It was just so stunningly effective that I can’t help but think that the other shoe must drop. I worry too much about the extreme decrease in sleep and the unknown long-term effects it might have on my mind. I do use it on rare occasions, but do not do so for more than a single day, and poker is usually not the reason.

My poker sessions with Modafinil did decrease over time, not because of the usual mental tiredness from playing, but because the newness of the experience of poker under Modafinil wore off, and my general boredom with poker would creep back in. However even if I quit poker early, I still felt like I wanted mental activity of some sort, instead of a usual nap. If I willed myself to do it, I could easily play 14 hour sessions of poker as before, with my new multi-table maximum, and did so on many occasions.

My conclusions have been very surprising to me. Modafinil is the first drug I have found to be truly effective in increasing the ability to play poker, in fact effective in all mental activities. It is not necessarily a “smart drug” in that I do not think it raises one’s native capacity to think to a higher level, but rather allows one to reach and sustain one’s natural highest level much more easily than the normal distractions of life allow. It also decreases the careless “tired” mistakes that are normal when engaged in high-level mental competition for long periods of time. But again I should emphasize that it will not turn a dim-witted player into an insightful one, though I do believe that it would aid an enthusiastic student of the game in picking up subtleties and nuances of the game more rapidly.

Where these attributes of Modafinil would be most useful in poker are obvious. For cash ring game players, Modafinil coupled with the efficiencies of online, multi-table play allows one to get in an atrocious amount of “high quality played” hands in per day, scaling almost linearly as tables are added, until one hits his own personal maximum. As already noted, it also increases this personal maximum to a level that I found impossible to achieve without the drug. Though I am only one data point, the scaling and efficiency results for me personally have be so significantly increased that I find it hard to imagine that I am experiencing outlier results, but rather it is easier for me to conclude that the effects from Modafinil are very real.

Where I think Modafinil might even be more effective in the realm of poker is in long, multi-day tournaments with the brutal, extended hours of play per day. One of the obvious main differences between tournament and ring play is the inability to dictate your playing hours in the former. If the tournament director is determined to play down to a set number of remaining players for the day, there is a very good chance that an extremely long session is in order, with a participant ‘stuck’ at his table until the goal of the TD are met. Besides the designated breaks and meals, a tournament player has little choice about choosing whether to play on, even if he knows he has long lost his peak mental performance. If the day requires sixteen hours of play, those players who can sustain their best play for the greatest amount of time within that sixteen have a significant advantage over those that peak and crash after 8, 10, or 12 hours.

Extending this thought, if we look at a super tournament like the Championship WSOP event which will take 5 or more stress filled days to complete, and has an abnormally large chance of causing sleeplessness and exhaustion as the days progress, a player that requires less sleep in order to feel completely rested, and benefiting from a state of heightened awareness in his waking hours even with this shortened rest, will again have a tremendous advantage. The cumulative weariness of those long days would affect anyone, chipping away at one’s ability to sustain his or her best. Since lots of no-limit Hold’em play is so deadly towards a single, thoughtless or “missed-cue” mistake, the ability to side-step this type of mistake would be huge. My experiments with Modafinil seems to provide a very practical and effective solution to this problem, more effective than I would have thought possible without it already being a mainstream staple in poker or any other mental activity. I would not be surprised if at least a small portion of players have already found this solution, and have incorporated Modafinil into their regular routines, as its results for me personally have been so profound, bordering upon my expectations of science fiction.

That brings me to the reasons for writing this article. Poker is about gaining and exploiting edges against your opponents. Usually study, observation, analysis, and experience, which are all “naturally occurring” processes that everyone has the capacity to practice, coupled with the ability to mentally sustain our applied knowledge in these areas, are what achieves these advantages, and thus, even though some players will always be better than others, poker is thought of as a ‘fair’ game. Modafinil is the first artificial stimulant that I have found that alters this landscape by giving a player the ability to perform longer mentally and at a more concentrated level than what one can achieve normally. Modafinil not only helps in gathering knowledge with a sharp, observational outlook, but also in applying your intellect without normal taxation. If you are already an analytical sort of person, it also helps to contain the emotional destructiveness of tilting, as one can focus beyond the immediate result and concentrate on the overall plan.

I actually debated for quite a long time before deciding to write about this topic. Selfishly, I know that not disclosing this personal discovery could greatly aid me in playing the game and benefiting from the edge, an edge sustainable only if others are kept in the dark. Ethically, I feel it is still a gray area. The reason I finally decided to write about Modafinil is that I think this drug and those like it to follow are going to alter the landscape of thought games, and, if Modafinil is just a precursor for what is to come, will eventually become mainstream in the relatively near future. My not writing about it now might only delay the spread of it by a tiny fraction of time, if it affects the spread of it at all. I also would like to hear others’ thoughts on the subject. The obvious comparison is with steroids in baseball, but during the late 80’s period when it was not well known and those few in the forefront gained the most. We might be in that similar time period for mental performance enhancers, and the ethical questions it will generate. I think Modafinil represents the first breakthrough drug for mental competition, with perhaps more refined and effective substances on the horizon. I believe that, if not during the 2005 WSOP, by 2006-7, Modafinil and drugs similar to it will play a role in the play of the games, and we as a community should open the dialogue now.

Disclaimer: Provigil and its generic name Modafinil is a prescription drug. Like all prescription drugs, a trained and licensed physician should be consulted before using Provigil or Modafinil. The effects I described in this article are my personal experiences only, and should not be taken as an endorsement to take this drug. The mechanism of how Modafinil works in the body is not well understood, and long-term use effects are still very much a question that has not been answered. Anything that alters your mind should be considered high risk and dangerous. OK?

Valentines Day Special- Poker and Love

Tue, 15 Feb 2005 07:20:51 GMT

(A discussion of poker and love. Adapted from my journal from many years ago. It’s rated “B” for Boring.)

Player A: “What makes someone a good poker player is exactly the same thing that makes that same person terrible at the dating game. In poker, discipline, cautious preservation, and patience are strong keys as a player. But these same characteristics actually screw you when it comes to meeting women and experimenting. If you are ‘lucky’ enough to be born with the personality traits that make for a good poker player, I think you most likely will see those same traits as a curse to being social and learning. Why else do you think that an unusually large proportion of successful poker players have such poor social skills?”

[Note: this conversation took place well before poker was mainstream and ‘cool’. Undeniably the culture of poker back then was slanted towards geeks and misfits.]

Player B: “I know that what works in poker isn’t instantly expandable to all of life, but surely traits like patience and caution in dating and love can’t be a negative. I think that most of the failures in love is exactly why there are so many bad poker players. People know what they should do, what is right for them, and yet they can’t execute the plan. That’s why divorce rates are already at 50% and growing. They lack those traits of patience and discipline. How can it be that you see them as being possibly negative in life?”

Player A: “Look, if you get King-Ten offsuit in first position, what would a ‘normal’, social player do? He’d play it, right? And what would you do? You’d be tempted to play it, but realize that if you are in this game for the long term, you have to fold it without any regrets. The flop may come King-King-Ten, and you still wouldn’t be angry about it. You do the whole patience/caution/discipline thing. That’s all fine and dandy for poker, but if we were to bring this thinking into life, especially to meeting potential mates, I say you are making a grave mistake. In love, especially in our early stage of life, it is far better to NOT know that King-Ten is a terrible start. In fact, it would be better for you if you instead were excited by it, and wanted to jump in with King-Ten with both feet, just like the ‘socially normal’ player. Sometimes it’s not good enough to know that King-Ten isn’t a winner in that spot. You benefit a lot more to know exactly why it stinks through experiencing it in all its false glory. Knowing things beforehand isn’t always the best if experiencing them is needed to truly learn. Same goes with women. And it’s better to learn these things when the stakes are very low and you can’t be hurt too much. Then when you are playing for higher stakes later, like marriage, and another unobvious, possibly attractive thing comes along, like Seven-Seven or King-Queen suited in a different position, you’ll be able to really SEE it and, because of your wealth of first-hand experience, know how to evaluate it as being truly beautiful or a heavily made-up dog with just good lighting. You see the factors that a cautious, rules-based ‘system’ player will miss, and know better if it’s a worthwhile play or not.”

Player B: “But this is my fear, if we are going to continue using poker metaphors for dating. What if I play that King-Ten under-the-gun, and I happen to win some pretty big pots with it. I become convinced that King-Ten is not only a winner, but also that it’s my favorite hand of all time and I’m going to marry it. King-Ten and I meet each other’s parents, and are making a commitment to each other so that I will always play her under-the-gun. But then, I begin to realize that King-Ten and I think we are in love, but looking back, it was because we happened to benefit from a stream of uncommonly good luck. Whenever a troubling situation could have potentially detonated my impression of King-Ten, like some other Ace-King out there, providence would cruelly continue the illusion by putting out an A-Q-J, so instead of pointing out the truth to me, I grow even more enamored with my King-Ten. After awhile, and with my commitment to King-Ten made, only then does reality finally catch-up and overtake the fantasy. King-Ten under-the-gun starts to lose for me like it should, and after I get spanked enough, I finally come to realize the truth about the situation, and the love turns to hate.

So in poker, I drop that King-Ten from early position, and that is that. I’ve lost some bets overall from making this foolhardy commitment to King-Ten, and it hurts, but the lesson is there, paid for. But in life, the cost to me seems much steeper. Emotional pain is much more devastating, and if originating from love, can last for years, if not the rest of your life. We’re not talking about fractions of a bet or bankroll from making this King-Ten mistake. We’re talking about hurt so unbearable that you don’t even care about money or anything else, just the feeling of total loss, total worthlessness in life. And not just for me, but for a feeling King-Ten as well.

Look, if we’re talking about picking roommates to share an apartment for a year, then this whole King-Ten thing is more applicable. If you are wrong, its bad but not permanent or even that painful. But to me, love is the highest stakes game around. There are no low limit games in love. Therefore, you can’t make mistakes at all, and if that isn’t possible, at least you need to do all you can to prevent mistakes that should be preventable. Love isn’t a ring game where if you make a mistake, you just can keep playing on, slightly damaged. It’s more like a tournament, where your mistake can knock you out of the game, and you have finality of fate from one mistake.”

Player A: “You are way too serious, and way too sensitive if you think that a mistakes in love is akin to losing your soul. I don’t think you can even know what love is all about unless you splash around in the reality of it. Your notion is just way too romanticized. If you play so conservatively, you will fold way too many profitable hands because you see monsters everywhere, even if they are just in your head. And when your pocket Aces finally does arrive, you’ll play her so scared that you’ll probably lose with her anyway. You recognize and handle true greatness by generating wisdom from the failures.

Hell, I’ll even go so far as to say that you should play plenty of hands in the game of love and even in your first games of poker that you probably know should be folded right away. I’ve stuck my dick into more Seven-Six offsuits and Jack-four suiteds than I care to admit, and I have no regrets. It’s part of the enjoyment of life and learning. Isn’t the experience of heartbreak just as important as love? We get to experience life just once. Why not see it all?

You’ve got plenty of time to play a lot of junk hands, and enjoy doing it. There is nothing that says that after your years of playing junk, you won’t finally get your Aces and you can still marry her. Those Aces won’t have less value just because you played junk before. If you are as conservative with your testicles as you are with your cards, you’ll regret it.

Look at it this way. Let’s say that you needed to win a million dollars in poker. But once you win that million dollars playing poker, you can never play the game again. How would you like to do it? Would you want to have a big, long ride, with terrifying lows and ecstatic highs along the way that you will remember forever, or would you rather have a perfect romance with the cards, where you play perfectly, everything just clicks, and you reach your goal in unbelievably legendary, fairytale fashion, in just one day after starting? I say the long ride is the way to go.”

Player B: “That’s not really fair. If both journeys conclude with you winning the ultimate prize, well then of course the extended journey is appealing. But if you picture the extended journey with a much higher chance of you ending up broke and desolate because you messed around too much with bad plays, then, to me, it loses a LOT of its appeal. I would forsake the experience of the long journey if it adds to my probability even slightly of realizing the fairytale scenario. I think that if you get used to playing junk, then your standards get irreparably damaged. You won’t be able to tell the large difference between pocket Aces and Queen-nine suited, as they will both look unbelievably sweet from what you are used to playing. And it’s not nearly as easy to correct this kind of perception flaw in life as it would be in cards, as the values are not so easily marked. So you end up marrying that Queen-nine suited. And you either live with that, knowing its not that great but maybe bearable, or you fold her and pay the heavy price, and pray that if you date again, this next time you’ll be able to tell the difference between those pocket Aces and the Ace-five offsuit, even though you’ve lost a lot of ability to weigh these hands correctly.

The only way to keep from developing a love for Trouble Hands is to avoid them from the start, even going so far as to throw away a thin layer of some of the pretty good hands just above them. If that keeps you from the pull of eventually lowering your standards so much that you lose sight of the difference, then you must do it. If you believe you can fool with junk and know when and where to turn off this habit later in the future, then it’s a viable strategy. All I can say is that so many have tried that and failed, in poker and in love.”

In love, which player had the right adapted poker strategy? I thought that these two old friends represented both ends of the extreme, and personally my own philosophy fell in between, though slightly more towards Player B. But of course the right answer is that the game of poker and love is much too complicated to be defined and mastered with one strict strategy that would be right for everyone. There are so many different ways to play both games, and so many ways to win and lose at both. If only it were not so.

Player A has been divorced twice, and is engaged for the third time. He has two children with whom he has a strained relationship. He’s always had some type of significant other, so though he’s been both very happy and very sad, he has never really been lonely, and has always had someone to share his life experiences with. He complains most about alimony and the ex-wives, and is very bitter about the children situation. He was mainly a 20-40 / 30-60 player, and though he was kind of feared, I truly suspect he had been just a break-even player. The explosion of No-Limit single table tournaments has been a boon to him, as his style suits him well in that arena, and is doing well in that format. He is not a poker professional.

Player B has never been married, and has only had one serious relationship that lasted over a year. When that relationship broke up, he dropped from the poker scene for close to two years, severely depressed, but is now fully recovered, if even more cautious. He still has romanticized notions of marriage and believes in the “soul-mate”, but is also wondering if he will ever meet her. He complains of loneliness often. He is hitting an age where he must start to convince himself that 6-6 is as good as A-A, for women if not for cards. He is a high-stakes professional player in limit ring games, who I know wins substantial amounts, but is starting to hate the game and talks about looking for a more fulfilling lifestyle.

I’m sure this is not only statistically insignificant, but also that you will find exact opposite endings for other people with similar philosophies. So what is the lesson? It’s that entries that could be rated “B” for Boring should probably stay unwritten.

Recap and Review of "TILT" on ESPN, S01E01

Sat, 05 Feb 2005 01:51:22 GMT

Thanks to the power of reruns and Tivo, I finally saw “Tilt” on ESPN. Since I have no doubt that this series will soon be off the air and hopefully never makes it to DVD, I present this written recap with commentary of the first episode, for posterity.

We hear a voice over describing a hot streak in his best Mike McDermot impersonation:

“You know what it feels like. Everything is going your way. You can’t make a wrong decision if you try. You bet Pass, the shooter rolls a Seven. You stand firm on twelve, the dealer busts out with a face card. At the Hold’em table, you start every hand with Big Slick.”

“And then it happens. Your wife calls on the cell phone with a problem at home. The waitress spills a beer on you or some mook in the anchor seat hits on 15 and takes the last big card in the deck. Suddenly the world shifts – anger overtakes you, confusion, pain. You can’t think straight. You call when you should raise, you bet when you should fold. You can’t win for losing. Its what the house counts on. The pros too. You’re off balance, you’re out of your right mind. And on TILT.”

Already we see the first signs that this show is going to be more about inflated style than any real treatment of gambling. Koppleman and Levien fancy themselves as knowledgeable gambling insiders based on their press when ‘Rounders’ was released, and this might be true relative to the bedrock of superficiality that is Hollywood, but any real gambler would tell you how mild this voice-over sequence of events is in the real world of gambling. Betting pass and the roller rolls a seven? When has rolling a seven in Craps ever generated anything other than mild head nodding (when the shooter sevens on the Come Out, and Pass bettors get an even money payout on a usually tiny bet) or wild displeasure if the seven is after the come-out and thus a seven-OUT? The real action in craps of course is after a point number is established and players back their pass bets with much, much larger “true odds” bets, buys some numbers, and even places some hardways and horns for the real thrill seekers. In fact, for craps addicts, a seven on the come out is sort of a ho-hum delay before the real action, not a reason for jubilation.

Standing firm on a 12 when the dealer shows a 10 (as in the show- the dealer *flips over* the 5 for 15, then busts) in Blackjack is such a terrible play that it can’t be justified. I guess they edited out the video sequence where the pit boss runs over to that player and offers him full RFB-comp treatment and kisses his ass unconscionably, as this live one could make the pit’s drop requirement by himself.

Starting every hand with Big Slick in Hold’em would cause more fear in me than anything else. Either I’m being cold decked and set up for a fall, or I will soon be accused of it with some genuine backing. If I saw AK three hands in a row, I would be shocked, but happy. If I saw it 5-6 times consecutively, I would fold it, pick up my chips, and leave – and hope I don’t get beat up or arrested.

Then a supposedly karma crashing event occurs like a guy on third base in blackjack “taking the dealer’s bust card” (a fallacy that really is prevalent in Blackjack unfortunately, but a REAL gambler knows its really inconsequential – the ‘mook’ could also take the dealer’s perfect 21 card when he should have stood, thus ‘saving’ the table, but of course no one remembers those events) or a drink spill, and such minor events are sure to make you lose. That’s right, professional gambling is about luck, biorhythms, and staying “hot”. Its what the house and the pros are supposed to count on to make their livings. Thank god, because favorable math and expectation are too nebulous to be relied upon. In fact, it is not well known, but JPL/NASA’s Saturn mission had two possible strategies for landing the Huygens probe on Titan – one based on mathematics and engineering, the other based on making the project lead point to his ‘lucky’ position in the sky, and then making sure that he didn’t get cell phone calls from his wife while continuously beating some ringers in Tic-Tac-Toe to stay “hot”. We may never know what strategy was followed and prevailed, as it is classified information.

Yes, even the casinos rely on patrons losing their minds to generate profit from their otherwise ‘fair’ games. That is why Vegas is not only the “City of Lights”, but also the “Home of the Most Clumsy and Blind Cocktail Waitresses in the World”.

I know the whole voice over was to set the tone of the show (and in fact succeeds on this front, though not as the writers probably intended) and to get the definition of TILT in there somehow, but it was so overly dramatic and inaccurate that I had to immediately lower my expectations to rock bottom. And guess what? I didn’t lower them enough!

We see the head of the Casino, Mr. Rogers (aka Lowball) walk into the poker room flanked by a half dozen well-dressed and well-groomed floorman. He’s singing “It’s a wonderful day in the neighborhood, a wonderful day in the neighborhood, won’t you be my neighbor?” He tells his crew that the tournament is going on at the end of the month, payout of $25 million. It attracts cheats of all kinds, so the crew has to look after the integrity of the games. Ok, when have you ever seen floormen who were dressed in designer suits and look like they came from central casting? Where is the realism – like the smoke-stained teeth floormen with thin hair and pear shaped body, bad casino issued suit jackets, and with so little exposure to natural sunlight that they suffer from scurvy? Where are the floormen that avoid eye contact at all costs, lest they be bothered for yet another comp or made to suffer another tale of woe?

Cut to a live ring game, where we meet the three protagonists of Tilt. The only hero’s name I can recall is the girl, Miami. The other two are such unreal self-parodies of poker coolness that it’s hard to imagine they have names. You know a show is in trouble when you can’t even remember the characters’ names, much less root for them. Lets call them WonderBread (the WB) and mini-DMX. They are also the most annoying bunch of poker players ever; instead of acting in a timely manner, they each have a prepared monologue for every action. It’s not just “Raise”, its “it’ll cost you a tank of gas to see the river.” It’s not just a fold, it’s a speech about what “Daddy taught me” (the biggest cliché in poker) before folding. All the other players at the table are trying to find the “No Player Chat” button on the table to save themselves from hearing this hokey dialogue, but no dice. So for them it’s yet another session of “Assholes who’ve seen Rounders and won’t shut the F up” on this night of cards.

WB and mDMX get into a dick-measuring contest. mDMX is obviously the favorite for such a thing, but WB is undeterred. WB raises, mDMX reraises, and WB raises again. By this standard sizes of the raises, its obviously a limit game. “Lets see if you have the sack to call that”, WB reads off his little chart of clever sayings as he puts in the raise. The dealer rolls his eyes so hard at these wannabes, he’s staring at his brain. I mean, please- mDMX has already put in 3 big bets, WB’s put in the fourth, so on this round alone mDMX is getting 7-1 to call that last raise, not even counting Miami’s dead money (she put in one this round and folded) and the existing pot. With these kinds of odds, one would need a sack smaller than Santa Claus on December 26th to call.

In comes The Matador, known as The Matador because of his tendency to tame young bulls in the bedroom, as ESPN’s endless commercials tell us. He also had to compete with Carlos Mortensen for the nickname, which the new Matador won from Carlos in a tense heads-up duel of Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon. Thank god those foreigners don’t know their American Cinema.

I always wondered what failed Elvis impersonators do once they crash down in Vegas. Now I know. They become professional poker players, just like The Matador as evidenced by his insistence in keeping the King’s slick pompadour hairstyle, even if its 40 years out of style. The bad Elvis-impersonator à great poker player with bad Elvis Hair route is actually quite common in the poker world. Just ask Scotty Nguyen.

Cut back to WB and mDMX staring at each other. Like Malmuth’s relationship to Sklansky, there is a feeling of deep one-directional man-love, unrequited by the other. In this case, WB is staring soulfully into mDMX’s eyes, not to get a read on his hand, but to imagine him teabagging mDMX’s shiny head. WB comments on how beautiful mDMX looks in his ‘aubergine’ colored jogging suit, and how he would like to eat him like an eggplant smothered in man-sauce. Since mDMX is all about trying to pretend he’s a bona-fide brutha from the mean streets, he is forced to lunge across the table at WB a deck him. As they roll around the casino floor, mDMX punching, WB caressing and smiling in ecstasy, security comes in and breaks them up. A mousy looking guy, who is spying on the three of them, witnesses all this.

Oh, and ostensibly this whole act was supposed to convince people that the three of them are not partners and that they really don’t like each other, so they can infiltrate Matador’s cheating ring. Nothing like cringe-worthy dialogue that pisses off all the other players with its lameness, followed by a fist-fight/grab-ass session on the floor to avoid drawing attention to themselves. If they really wanted to be mistaken for your run-of-the-mill poker players, they need to a) wear the same T-shirt and pants 3 or more days in a row b) have stinky breath generated from being hungry but too cheap to pay for anything, c) have a running dialogue of anger towards random dealers who they ‘know’ are unlucky, d) call for set-ups as often as they fart at the table, and e) beg the floorman for a comp ticket every 4 hours. If they follow this plan, they would be more overlooked in the poker room than soap in a France.

We meet Lee Nickel, nickname Sadsack, gathering up a wad of hundred dollar bills in a dingy hotel room. Guess all his money is used for play as he’s willing to stay at a downtown crack motel where you pay by the hour.

Cut to the Three Amigos as they ride in a car. Miami knows of a place out in the desert where “the dealers are creepy, but most of the players are drunk and they won’t get clocked”. They all complain that they don’t have bankrolls, because they were cheated out of them. It couldn’t be because they suck, of course, they MUST have been cheated. That story sounds familiar to anyone who has ever been cornered by a desperate railbird.

Sadsack approaches a floorman. This floorman is much more realistic, as he avoids eye contact and has a condescending attitude. He tells Sadsack that this is the high limit area, and to get his sad-sack ass over to the 3-6 tables. Sadsack is looking for a no-limit game. The floorman tells him they spread a $50 and $100 blinds game, and that it’ll come together in a little while. He takes down LN’s initials and smirks, and then starts to dial his cell phone.

The dive casino where the Three Amigos are playing. And what a dive it truly is – it makes the El Cortez look like the Bellagio. The mousy spy approaches WB, and tells him that he needs to lay his hand down. WB questions who the hell he is, and the dealer tells WB that his name is Crackle, and that he is banned. For card counting? No, Crackle is “just weird” the dealer tells him, “something is wrong with him, like a pants mess or something.” The dealer smirks. Crackle tells WB that Seymour wants the see the three of them. As they all get up to leave, Crackle says “Son of a bitch, you crap your pants one time and they never let you forget it”, which is just like saying “Son of a bitch, you get caught having the dog lick peanut-butter off of your dick one time and they never let you forget it”. I too would be shocked if people wouldn’t drop such an innocent mistake. At least we now have a nickname for Crackle – its “Skidmarks”.

Seymour’s suite. Seymour is scolding the Three Amigos for playing in the same room, as they risk detection. Sure, because seeing the same faces in a poker room day in and day out just never happens. Anyway, they argue that they were in Laughlin and they need to build a bankroll. Seymour asks how much they scored. Miami - $2000, and she was “about to make a run” before Skidmarks showed up. WB - $3200. mDMX-$3100.

Lets pause here for a second. I’ve been to Laughlin, and the poker action down there is small. It’s all low stakes poker, except occasionally in the bigger places on the weekends. Factor in that they were playing at a complete dive, where the dealers are ‘creepy’ and the players are drunks (i.e. super low-class joint), and what is the biggest game they could have been in? $4-$8? So Miami is up 250 big bets (and that was before her future ‘big run’), WB and mDMX are up around 400 big bets? In one night? If this is not one of their most memorable poker nights ever, and these are their ‘typical’ results, they must be the luckiest people around. I imagine them buying a single lotto ticket and swearing up a storm when they ‘only’ hit 4 of 6 numbers this time, damn it. Or ripping up those ‘meager’ 9 out of 10 hits on the keno cards, since it’s not worth the effort to cash those ‘losers’ in. And it must be tiring waiting around for those Royal Flushes in video poker every hour or so. The only thing more improbable is for three of the most wooden and talent-less actors all getting jobs because the most ludicrous, boring, and inaccurate series about poker from producers who really know nothing about cards (but can fake it) could actually find a network dumb enough to buy and air it.

So these guys are averaging around 50 big bets an hour, and they can’t maintain a bankroll? What could their monthly nut possibly include that is draining them so badly? Sure, WB has his hair-care products, man-scaping crap, Queer eye for the Straight Guy memorabilia, and gay Pay-per-view needs, Miami has her outrageous beanie-baby collection that she just can’t let go, and mDMX has those expensive tuition fees for his UNLV extension class “Ebonics and Street Cred for the Middle Class Oreo” (Lesson 1, never use the word “aubergine” to describe your outfit color. In fact never use that word at all if you want to pretend you are from the street.) But what else are they burning money on? It’s obviously not books.

Anyway, Seymour scolds them for being careless and for “playing in the kiddy pool”, which causes WB to go off on him and challenge Seymour to a heads-up Hold’em match. Only the absolute biggest egos with the largest confidence problems would choose a method where, at BEST, you’re a 65-35 favorite against any competent basic strategy (due to the luck factor) instead of a more reliable method to demonstrate intellectual superiority. Its like they don’t feel confident unless there IS a lot of luck involved. The ones with the real issues (both psychological and intellectual) even give you 10-1 odds on such a match. Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling…

Matador and the world’s laziest corporate CEO, Lowball, are lounging around in the executive suite. Lowball tells him about Sadsack and the game he wants to play. They begin to discuss assembling the cheating team, because that is what top executives of major casinos do in order to meet shareholder expectations. Matador announces that he needs to relieve himself and goes into the Executive Crapper, only to find a high priced hooker sitting on the sink, waiting for him. We then see the Matador from the waist up, cooing in pleasure while the hooker is working him below, and then he looks down at her and says “Bull’s-eye”.

So if Matador needed to relieve himself badly and did not know a hooker was waiting in there for him, how does he handle this totally awkward situation? First off, if he’s going in there to make a number 2, it just pure embarrassment all around:

Matador: Oh wow. Hey there honey. Um… could you step outside for a second? I, uh, have to floss real quick. Just a second.

[Matador shuts the door and then grunts out a log so big that it has trouble flushing down the drain. He tries to only let out silent-but-deadlies, but a few drum beaters of gas escape his control. Unbeknownst to him, Hooker is just right outside the door, afraid to join Lowball on the couch since he was the one who stuck her in the bathroom, hearing the Matador grunt anyway. Her nose is crinkled upwards with a totally disgusted look on her face. She knows that in mere minutes, her face is going to be all too close to the offending orifice. All she can hope for is that Matador does not go sparingly on the toilet paper. After the third flushing attempt, Matador finally gets the log to break in half and go down. He opens the door.]

Matador: Okay honey, all set. Nothing like a good flossing after a big buffet.

Hooker (weird, affected voice - she is not breathing through her nose): Flossing. Right. Say, you don’t happen to have some matches on you? I, uh, would like to light a couple, and, uh, smoke first.

Matador: Sorry, don’t smoke. I didn’t know you smoked either.

Hooker: I don’t. I MEAN… I just started.

Matador: Well, you should quit. Hey just to let you know, I like a finger in my ass right before I come.

Hooker (horrified, and not hiding it well): Whatever you want, chief.

Even giving old Matador the benefit of the doubt, and assuming he just had to pee pretty badly, we don’t ever see him do it BEFORE the hooker goes down south. We even see him unbuckling his pants, presumably for the first time since entering. So when he says “Bull’s-eye”…was anyone else thinking Golden Showers? Or has my mind alone been polluted by too much evil found on the Internet?

Matador goes down to the poker room, where Sadsack is seated and the big game has started. All the cheat crew is already in the game. Matador throws down a $10K chip and asks to get it colored down. Some geek comes up and asks Matador to sign his book. I’m sure Koppleman/Levien were patting themselves on the back for this scene, like they are such insiders by knowing that Brunson and the like get autograph requests. They even have Matador paraphrase Brunson’s old publicized complaint about how writing a book caused him to have to change his game a lot since everyone had read it. Hell, the book the geek has even looks like Super/System in its size and thickness. Such superficially shallow “inside knowledge” is their forte. They’re like the Ashlee Simpson of writing - lip-synching to a track but not actually singing a real note.

Now it’s time for the pandering cameos, designed to appease those that have some familiarity with poker in real life by showing some ‘big names’. Matador calls out to Danny “Helium Voice” Negreanu and TJ Cloutier as they walk by. “Why don’t you and TJ sit in for a while?” asks Matador. “No thanks, I think I can find softer spots,” replies Danny Boy, sounding like he’s waiting for puberty to finally be over and his voice to change.

OK, so Koppleman/Levien went through this little sequence to show that Matador is ‘in’ with real poker players, shooting for some type of authenticity points after botching just about everything else they’ve been portraying. So why would they put in one of the most egregious impossibilities in there that they SHOULD know would bring real poker players out of the chairs in a screaming fit of mocking incredulousness? You caught it, right? IT’S TJ CLOUTIER WITH A RACK OF CHIPS!!! AND TJ WALKING THROUGH THE ROOM WITH THAT RACK WITHOUT EVERY PERSON IN THERE HOUNDING HIM TO PAY BACK SOME I.O.U’s!!

Here is how the scene should have been written, if the writers wanted some poker cred:

[Matador sits down at the table. He throws down a $10K chip and asks for a color down. As he is getting settled, he notices DANNY BOY walking through the room.]

Matador: Hey Danny. Why don’t you sit down for a while?

Danny Boy (Mickey Mouse’s voice): Hmmm… No thanks. I think I can find softer spots. Like the top of my skull, for instance. Besides, I haven’t seen my mommy in almost a FULL 30 minutes, so I really got to go.

[Danny Boy walks away.

CUT TO: Matador, as he receives his chips from the dealer and starts to stack them. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a LARGE MAN holding a full rack of chips. The LARGE MAN has his head down, purposefully avoiding eye contact, and is trying to shield his rack with his large hands. The shock of recognition washes over Matador’s face, as he realizes who the LARGE MAN is – it’s T.J. CLOUTIER.]

Matador (loud): T.J.! T.J.!!! STOP! DON’T PRETEND YOU DON’T HEAR ME YOU BASTARD!

[T.J. keeps walking, picking up the pace considerably. His head never deviates from staring at the ground.]

Matador (screaming now): Y OU CHEAP FUCKING ASSHOLE! I SEE THAT RACK, AND I DON’T CARE WHAT MIRACLE HAPPENED FOR YOU TO OBTAIN IT, ALL I CARE ABOUT IS YOU PAYING ME BACK THE “LOAN” I GAVE YOU FIVE YEARS AGO!! YOU KEEP WALKING AWAY FROM ME AND I SWEAR I WILL HAVE YOUR BALLS RIPPED OFF!!!

T.J. (without stopping or moving his head, spits out words): oh hey matador sorry got to go Joy’s calling this isn’t mine I’m just holding it for Lyle hey my chest hurts I gotta go get it checked you know hey I need to go good to see you though no really these aren’t mine you know I’d pay you back if it could but I’m just holding these for someone whoops there’s Joy gotta run good to see you Matador gotta go talk to you later ok….

Matador: God DAMN it!

One final comment on this scene. We all know how atrociously detrimental Tilt is to poker - its fanciful portrayal of poker being filled with nothing but cheats, both on the player and casino side of operations, with leap-across-the-seats fistfights, guns all over the place, and leg-breakings meted out with a blind eye from police by those same players, and, if not for the fact that the series is so ludicrously absurd to even the most retarded viewer, would potentially do great harm to the game. Tilt is by no means the poker world’s friend, but rather a pathetic attempt to cash in on the craze at its expense. Yet there is Danny Boy, the self-proclaimed do-gooder for the benefit of poker, “telling it like it is, shooting from the hip” and all the other crap his P.R. wants the public to believe, lending his endorsement to this plague of a show. What happened to all that spiel about promoting poker in a good light, giving back to the game, and making mommy proud? I guess we know the price for Danny’s loyalties and honor – a SAG card is all it takes to buy him. So typical of any fame-whore.

Game starts. Matador raises $1000 from what looks to be the cutoff. Sadsack, in the big blind, sees 7c4c. “Did you even look at your hand?” he asks Matador. “I didn’t have to. I saw you look at yours.” Sadsack verbally tells us “I’m going to fold”, as required by the rules in this room (its posted – talk as much as possible and slow the game down to a crawl, or you will be banned). “That’s one free lesson. The next one is going to cost you.” Mocking laughs all around. Wow, what a lesson. Fold 74s if it’s raised 10x the big blind in the cutoff – even Helmuth’s crappy book could teach you that.

Elevator with the Three Amigos. WB offers the girl a $7.95 steak and shrimp dinner. She passes. WB then offers mDMX the same deal, adding “I think they’ll toss in a slice of watermelon for dessert for you, so what do you say?” mDMX lunges across the elevator and starts pounding WB yet again. Ok, that last part didn’t happen, but why not? It would make WB at least interesting if he was the most racist SOB alive, instead of this vanilla non-character. Instead, Miami says, “No, my play now is to get some sleep, read a poker glossary to learn as much cool sounding lingo as possible, and then spew it at random intervals to punch up this lame dialogue.” mDMX invites WB to a game where he knows they won’t be found by the Matador.

Cut to a dark strip club. The only thing darker is the clientele. In keeping with their plan to be the most noticeable unnoticed people around, WB’s contrasting paleness makes everyone look at him and remember his presence. They head into the back rooms where there are a lot of poker games going on. Just like in the club, all the clientele are Black.

As they enter the clandestine poker room, two young Black players are having an argument about whether or not a raise by one of them was legal. Since this whole sequence would be treading dangerously close to being a KKK recruitment tape by their over-the-top portrayal of Black culture as one of violence and thuggery, the producers wisely decide to give these two arguing Black players a twist – they both are highly educated, and have strikingly handsome English accents, like Lennox Lewis:

Player 1: I say good fellow, I don’t think you can raise there. It’s not sporting of you if I do say. Manners you know.

Player 2: Oh my, I am quite embarrassed. I meant to raise there but forgot to say it out loud. Might you overlook my forgetfulness this time? Its rude I know, but it was an honest mistake, chap.

Player 1: Sorry chap, but you know that here in the Colonies, they have the rule of law, much as we do in jolly ol’ England. As much as I would like to overlook it, I don’t feel it proper. It would seem to be favoritism, and since we are guests in this fine country, t’would be to our disadvantage to hint at shady hooliganism by playing improperly. Wouldn’t you agree?

Player 2: Sorry my good fellow, but I do not agree. [Stands up and takes out a gun] This here is a family heirloom, given to me by my father. I’m ashamed that I’ve kept it in such a ghastly state. It’s shameful. But it is still up snuff I’m afraid. It’s not seemly of me to resort to such behavior, I know, but I must press this point. As Sir Churchill said “It is not enough that we do our best, sometimes we have to do what is required.”

Player 1: My word, it is a beauty. No need for modesty friend, it is quite a handsome piece. However… [Stands up and takes out a bigger gun] … I must ask you to reconsider. At risk of being redundant, Sir Churchill also said, “A fanatic is one who can’t change his mind, and won’t change the subject.” Yield, sir. I have the advantage. You don’t want to be fanatical about this small point, do you?

Player 2 (finally backing down): My word! Well played, chap, well played indeed. You have taught me a fine lesson today. I am in your debt. We still having tea tomorrow?

Player 1: Posh. Of course. Death threats are no reason to act uncivilized…

Player 1 and 2 together (obnoxious English laugh): Oooohhh hoooo hooo hooo.

WB and mDMX sit down to play in a $1K no-limit tourney. Meanwhile, Miami gets out of a cab and goes into the poker room where Matador and Sadsack are still playing. They are in a hand together. In small talk, Sadsack tells us he’s from Des Moines. Matador looks at his cards: 6s4s. Matador bets $4k. Sadsack looks at is cards: 2h2s. Everyone else folds. Sadsack raises another $4k (for a total of 8k), which looks to be just a small portion of his total stake (we later learn he had $32K in front of him before the hand). Everyone else at the table starts wildly gesticulating to tell Matador what their cards were (I guess). I can’t imagine what these signals could be that would be so super-meaningful, but supposedly they tell Matador their exact cards, so Matador calls. Flop comes 5c 2c 8h. Sadsack gets fidgety and Matador comments on it, saying “You look like you want to bet at it, so I’m going to let you.” I assume Sadsack is in last position because upon hearing this, he calls for a card (checks) instead of betting.

Does it need to be said? Bottom set against a 2-suit flop (clubs), with 16K plus blinds in the pot already, and Sadsack doesn’t bet the flop at all? We learn later that Sadsack brought in 8K with him to sit down in the game, so a 16K pot could not be small to him (forget the fact that he must be killing the game in order to have over 24K of profit plus his original buy-in in front of him – what kind of cheats are these morons? What if Sadsack decides to get up after he doubled up twice, like he has already?). I guess it’s somewhat believable that an amateur might trap in this spot, but then if you get drawn out on because you let the perfect free card fall, you better not whine about being cheated afterwards and realize that you just plain suck as a player.

Turn of course is the 7d, giving Matador a straight. More smack talk. Matador says that Sadsack “has about 24K and change” left in front of him and puts Sadsack all in. Sadsack quickly calls. Though this is NOT a tournament, for some reason they turn the cards up. A railbird chirps “Matador just made a double-gut shot.” Another: “How do you get cards like that?” Like what? 64s? I get that so much that sometimes I want to tear my hair out. 7d on the Turn? Easy to get that card if no one bets the flop – you just sort of sit there and it happens by itself.

Though hurting, Sadsack still has 10 outs to pair the board. Here comes the River- it is a Kh. Matador says “A set of deuces is kind of like a mackerel in the moonlight, one minute its really shiny. The next – it stinks.” Much like my expectations for this show. Sadsack gets up pissed and storms out as Miami watches it all go down.

WB and mDMX leave the strip club. MDMX won the tournament and is counting his hundreds. WB wants half and says he dumped his chips to him at then end because “they weren’t letting a guy like me out of there with the money.” What? You mean those fine English gentlemen? Whatever are you talking about WB? They split the cash. Wow, it’s so easy to empathize and cheer on a bunch of cheaters dumping to each other in private tournaments. I guess if they are cheating Blacks, its okay though. Sheesh. Good job writers.

Sadsack’s room. He washes his face. He opens his suitcase and lifts up the top layer of clothes to reveal a gun and videotape. The gun I can believe since every poker player is required to carry one (as we just saw), and airport security is pretty lax these days about checking for minor stuff like that. But a videotape? How the hell did he get that through airport security without wrapping it up in coffee beans? We also see a police badge of some sort.

Sadsack takes the videotape and puts it into the VCR, because every roach motel in Vegas gives you a VCR in the room, even if those cheap bastards on the Strip don’t. He watches a tape of his brother Wayne Sadsack describe techniques he used to use to cheat people in poker games. As he’s watching Sadsack has flashbacks of the Matador’s game, and his crew gesticulating like they were third-base coaches in a baseball game before a suicide squeeze. Subtle . Sadsack gets so pissed off watching this and realizing that he’d been cheated that he hurls the remote control, breaking it. Looks like someone is going to find extra charges when he checks out.

So is Sadsack the guy from the movie Memento? The character with no short-term memory? How else to explain why he’s carrying this tape around, with the most vital information practically SCREAMING at him not to play poker in Vegas, yet pretty much forgets/ignores the warning until he dumps his savings. Then he watches the tape and reacts as if he just reviewed it for the first time ever in his motel room, even though he packed it with him in his suitcase. This has to be the most poorly written, illogical sequence ever. Either Sadsack knew exactly what he was getting into having seen the tape, and decided to play anyway without any real counter-plan, and thus got exactly what he deserved, or we are meant to believe that someone handed Sadsack this tape and said DON’T watch it until AFTER you get wiped out – just pack it with you in your suitcase and you’ll know when to watch it- and thus his outraged reaction upon finally viewing it. Did Koppleman even bother to go over the script before rushing this crap into production? Writers everywhere should be pissed off that such absolute drivel made it to air.

Miami and WB meet up in a coffee shop. Miami tells WB she saw Matador play against Sadsack, and saw the cheat team in action. We see a quick flashback to a young Miami playing poker when she was 12, foreshadowing an upcoming sequence. After they run out of poker glossary terms to spew, they share hair and makeup tips with each other. WB leads this discussion.

Sadsack goes to Lowball’s office. He tells Lowball that he was cheated in his casino and wants to review the security tapes to prove it. Lowball says he looked into it and doesn’t find anything wrong going on. Lowball says that Sadsack just lost to one of the greats in the game. Though we know he WAS cheated, I’m still siding with Lowball/Matador on this one, as Sadsack played so badly that no cheating was needed to win the big hand. Matador was given the 2nd nut straight for free, bet all his chips, and got called. So what? Signals or no signals, I don’t think Matador would have played that hand any differently – he didn’t need to. As Sadsack gets up, Lowball calls him “Sheriff Nickel”, and outs his brother Wayne Sadsack (guy in the tape) as a known cheat. Lowball sees all, knows all. And I pity Des Moines, Iowa if they elect an Alzheimer’s inflicted, borderline retarded loser with severe paranoia and anger problems as their sheriff. Sadly, that’s only reason #243 why I would never want to go to Iowa. Sadsack walks out, with a “this means WAR!” look on his face.

WB knocks on a door and a whorish looking junkie opens it. It’s his mother. Since I have no emotion or interest invested in WB, I have even less for WBM. Not to mention that Keanu Reeves watches this scene and mocks their wooden and emotionless acting. Something about how they broke promises to each other, Dad is a deadbeat playing at Foxwoods, WB just came to say hi, and mommy doesn’t love me. Just a totally empty scene that, I don’t know, is supposed to make me feel for WB. Or something. Totally could have dropped this scene, but Koppleman is probably the editor too.

Lowball’s office. The realistic smarmy floorman who set up the high-limit cheatfest with Sadsack is sitting in front of Lowball’s desk. Lowball is standing behind the desk when a hottie in red comes over and hands him a phonebook. LB throws the phonebook at Smarmy and yells at him, because Sadsack Lee Nickel isn’t listed in there, and thus warning bells should have gone off. Since Vegas only caters to locals, and out-of-towners are extremely rare, LB has a valid point. No wonder he’s CEO. Matador is in the background listening in. Smarmy admits he missed the connection, but still gets chewed out for letting Sadsack slander Matador. “I missed it. Things happen fast on the floor” Smarmy says. “I saw he was a sucker. [To Matador] You beat him out of his stake!” Matador replies, “Eight grand. He bought a lousy eight grand into my game. If I run out of toilet paper at home, I WIPE MY ASS with eight grand. Nine if I’ve had chili. And twelve if its chili from the Binion’s snack bar.”

You get the feeling that this was the “set piece” moment for the writers, as if the whole show, hell maybe the whole series was created to get out that one zinger of a line. They even play dramatic thumping music to heighten the drama. You know what. I LIKE it. I like the whole concept of relating bankroll sizes to bodily functions. It would be efficient and useful shorthand technique. For instance:

[Smarmy the FLOORMAN is standing at his podium, overseeing the room. His cell phone rings. He looks at the caller I.D. before answering.]

Smarmy: Hey Matador.

Matador (V.O. on phone): Yeah Smarmy. What’s going down? What does the action look like tonight?

Smarmy: Its slow tonight Matador. Just a few frat boys in the 8-16, but with really small bank, maybe enough bills to wipe a giant booger with if you didn’t want to use your shirt. We had a live one in 30-60, but he’s already been pretty drained by the regulars. All he’s got left in front of him now is enough to stop up the last flow of your girl’s period – but only if she’s a light bleeder. Other than that, there aren’t enough bills in play to take care of a mild eye-cheese problem. So I hope you’re still stocked with Charmin. Don’t bother coming down.

Matador (V.O.): Ok thanks. You let me know if things change down there.

[Hours later. The room has emptied out a little, but there are still games going. Smarmy is practically asleep at the podium. A sudden stir of excitement wakes him up. A MAN IN A WHITE SUIT, with an entourage of close to a dozen, is walking towards the poker room, while onlooker gawk. Upon approaching, we recognize him as KIRK KERKORIAN, billionaire and world-renowned gambling whale. Smarmy tries to compose himself.]

Smarmy: Muh..Muh..Mister Kerkorian! Good to see you again, sir! Didn’t know you were in town. What can I do for you sir?

Kerkorian: Hello…[looks at name tag]…Smarmy. I was on my way to buy out the country of Burma to turn it into a vacation home for my pets when I happened upon a most interesting show on the satellite in the jet. It was called ‘Celebrity Poker Showdown’, and it had a most interesting cast of brigands on the show playing poker. That one fellow, Coo…coo…what was his name?

Assistant: Coolio sir.

Kerkorian: Right! That fellow Coolio was quite the trickster. I was so impressed with his analytical abilities at the table that I told my pilot that I must play against him immediately. Imagine! Two titans of intellect matching razor-sharp wits! In a game of Texas Hold-it!

Assistant: Hold’em sir. Texas Hold’em.

Kerkorian: Right, right! Hold’em! And I came prepared. I imagine it will cost me to match wits with him…

[Kerkorian snaps his fingers without looking back. Two assistants behind him open up large, matching silver suitcases. They are stuffed with $100 bundles, easily more than $2 Million. Smarmy’s jaw gapes in awe.]

Kerkorian: So tell me, is he here?

Smarmy: I’m sorry Mr. Kerkorian, but Coolio, uh, just left town. But Coolio’s poker trainer is here! I’m sure you would find him a stimulating challenge! Would you like me to arrange a game for you sir, with the trainer?

Kerkorian: Fine, fine. We’ll be at the Pompous Steak House. Please find one of my assistants to let me know when the game will start.

[Kerkorian leaves. Smarmy grabs his cell phone and furiously punches in numbers, shaking with excitement.]

Smarmy (to phone): Matador! You’re not going to believe what just happened!

Matador (V.O): This better be good. I was just getting into my “Elvis-the-fat-years” set on my karaoke machine. You know I don’t like to be disturbed when I’m channeling the King.

Smarmy: Oh, this is good all right! KIRK KERKORIAN just walked in, and he’s looking for a game! From the sound of it, it’ll be his first time playing Hold’em – EVER! And this is the best part – he brought an enormous bankroll with him. GINORMOUS! I’m talking enough to wipe a 400-pound, lactose intolerant fat-man-with-colitis’ ass so clean that Intel would be PROUD to fabricate microchips in his colon! Even after he’s had all 31 Flavors at Baskin-Robbins! Get over here now, and get the crew!

Matador (V.O.): Woah! Colitis AND lactose intolerance you say? Be right over!

Smarmy: And if anyone asks, you’re Coolio’s poker trainer.

Matador: What the fuck?!

Smarmy: Just trust me for once.

See? Descriptive and efficient. As a member of the poker playing fraternity, I vote to immediately implement this body-function/bankroll size conversion system as our standard when talking cash. Thank you.

Smarmy gets up and volunteers to clean out his desk. Instead of firing him, Lowball instead condemns him to a fate worse than death: curator of the quarter slots machines. Forget that the slots are the lifeblood of any casino; in this world it’s the Abu Ghraib of casino employment. That’s not the end of Smarmy’s humiliation though – he is also forced by Lowball to give back his gold watch, since those are only for “meritorious service”.

Sadsack is sitting in a local sheriff’s office. The sheriff has no sympathy for him and suggests he check out Gambler’s Anonymous instead. Sadsack threatens to take this to the Federal level if nothing is done. Christ, Sadsack is supposed to be an officer of the law himself, wouldn’t he know about Nevada’s Gaming Control Board / Gaming Commission, which oversees the practice of all gambling statewide? One call to them and Sadsack can bypass all this whining to deaf ears. I once saw officers of the NGC come in and confiscate a blackjack shoe and all cards on just a tip from a whiny gambler that he’d been cheated, no doubt getting all tapes involved as well. Casinos FEAR any semblance of impropriety that draws in the NGC, just about any idiot knows about this leverage on the side of players. Yeah, I know, Lowball owns the NGC too, there just isn’t any justice in Las Vegas.

WB is playing in some private game against some Australian. The board shows 8c5hTh as the flop, 2s as the Turn. We don’t see the betting action before this, we just see the deal of the river card – the 6h. WB is trying to read the Aussie’s hand, and we get to hear his thought process. “Two suited big cards?” WB wonders about Aussie’s holdings. He discounts this because the Aussie “only raised preflop, no reraise”. It’s a strange thought, since the Aussie can only reraise if WB raised himself, so I’m assuming the betting preflop was: Aussie raised, WB reraised, and Aussie called. No idea about amounts bet, or size of blinds. And it’s strange that at this late stage is when WB finally wakes up and starts to wonder about his lone opponent’s hand. WB looks at his own hand, because all pros look at their hands after each board card comes out – only amateurs look once and remember. WB has the 4d3d. More echoed thoughts from the cavernous head of WB. “Nah, you (the Aussie) got a piece of this, a BIG piece. But not big enough…” as WB visualizes Aussie’s hand as 6c6s. Note that no action has occurred on the river yet, as WB is first to act. So how does he conclude that Aussie got a big piece of the board? Its logical to assume that Aussie must have bet on the previous rounds in order for one to conclude that he had a “BIG piece”. So what is WB doing in the hand at all with nothing but a backdoor draw to the very poor, non-nut straight, especially with two hearts showing?

Aussie had position, so I assume that maybe WB, who got in the last raise preflop, fired a follow-through bullet on the flop and was called (if WB doesn’t fire on the flop, the Aussie practically must take over the betting and fire himself, as his small pair is vulnerable, and he can either get a fold or possibly fold himself to a big raise early in the hand), WB caught an open-ender on the turn and fired again, and was called (meaning the Aussie put WB on the two big (possibly suited) cards, and was going to call this hand down with his pocket pair). Or possibly the Turn went check-check. That’s my guess anyway.

WB bets a thousand on the river, and we hear sounds of boxers boxing, which snaps the heads of all the players at the table to the boxing ring.

That’s right, the boxing ring, which is right beside the game! Hope no one minds the occasional shower of saliva and sweat, or the constant distraction of two guys beating on each other, because we need a ROM (Ridiculously Obvious Metaphor) for this scene. Wow, I wonder what the two boxers are supposed to represent here? I need a bigger hint.

Aussie breaks into a smile. “I knew it,” he says, “I picked up something on you. Your betting pattern. When you start out with a big pair, you open at 200. If you don’t improve, you try and chase the wankers out on the river with a big bet. I raise a thousand! Now you’re on the run, sunshine.”

As “good” as the dialogue sounds when spoken, it doesn’t make a lot of sense. Top on the list of Absurdities is the Aussie’s James-Bond-villain-speech, where the antagonist, instead of just killing Bond, instead goes into a lengthy exposition on the intricacies of his plan, including crucial information that is deadly to give away. “I’ve just found a tell on this guy that might mean tens of thousands of dollars now and in the future, if he doesn’t catch on. Let me tell him all about it!” Unbelievable – its like a self parody of real poker. Just truly insulting to anyone who actually plays poker that this was written into the scene, especially when the writers were going for authenticity. Also, if Aussie believes in his reads, why is he chasing with only two outs, especially with the flush draw on board and the 6h not in his hand? And why does he consider it ‘chasing the wankers out’ with a bet on the river if WB has a big pocket pair (say AA or KK)?

WB counters by asking how much Aussie has in front of him. Aussie has $3800. WB puts him all in, asking “how does that fit my pattern, sunshine?” Aussie was counting on it. “That six minted me. Call.” He shows his 6c6s – a set. WB shows his 4d3d, “A ladder to the six.” We see more boxing, as one boxer beats on the other. “A three-four. You beat me with those itty-bitty cards. You played them like you had a pair.” “No, I played them because I HAVE a pair!” WB says, the line that probably will be the highlight of WB’s career in acting. If he really has a pair, he’ll send in this tape for Emmy Award consideration, but no one could be that ballsy.

Either way, I think they both overplayed their hands. Does no one fear the flush?

I wonder what other ROM’s we can expect to see in future episodes:

[Episode 2 – WB and a Hungarian are sitting at a poker table. The table is outside, on the edge of a lake, like most private games in Nevada. WB stares down the Hungarian.]

WB: I bet a thousand.

[Suddenly there is commotion on the lake and both players’ heads snap focus on it. On top of the lake is a giant log, with two lumberjacks standing on either end. LUMBERJACK ONE starts running on top of the log, spinning it, while LUMBERJACK TWO runs to keep from being spun off.]

Hungarian: I know vhat you have. You bet out your busted draws and check call your made hands. You do not change. I call!

[They flip over their cards. Hungarian shows two pair.

We see the LUMBERJACK TWO take over the pacing and start to control the log. LUMBERJACK ONE teeters and is barely holding on, desperately trying to catch up on the speed.

WB shows his cards – the nut flush.

In a FLASH of effort, LJ ONE makes a move and overtakes the pace of LJ TWO. The log spins faster and faster, and LJ TWO goes plunging into the lake.]

WB: Your read on me is all wet. It’s about balance. Next Case!

I’m sure we’ll see this and other ROM’s [sumo wrestlers, gunslingers, Axis vs Allies footage, on-two-three-four-I-declare-a-thumb-war sequences] in future episodes. Koppleman is just that obvious of a writer.

Miami and some bellhop are walking towards a luxury suite. She gives him an hundred dollar bill (no wonder why these guys can’t keep a bankroll), and he lets her into the suite. She sits at a table and has a flashback. We see dozen Soprano’s castoffs sitting or standing around. She’s now twelve years old and chewing gum like a cow chews its cud, playing poker with a few of the men. A particularly greasy guy is snarking at A-cup Miami, wondering if she is going to raise him a “hula hoop”. He must be a high-ranking mob member because the others actually laugh at this lame throw-line. She looks at her hand – Ts6d. She looks at the board –Js7c9d, 8c, Ks. She says “pump it up seven thousand,” stunning the grease guy. Someone else tells grease guy that a girl can’t bluff him, he has to call – and so he does. He shows 6h5s – proudly I might add. Straight to the nine. A-Miami shows her T6 and says, “You have the ass end of it!” in the most annoying manner possible. Since she herself does not have the top end (QT), does that mean she’s got the spleen end of it? And a bit of advice, if you are a twelve year old girl, in a room full of guys who are the ones that provide the directors’ commentaries on the gold-edition DVDs of “Snuff! The Musical”, you should try avoid using the words “pump” or “ass-end” too much. Grease guy stands up and refuses to pay. A younger Seymour steps up and tells him to pay or be banned from playing anywhere in the state. GG pays and leaves. She says “Thanks, Mister.” Seymour tells Miami that her gum chewing is not only disgustingly annoying in its loudness, but that it might give something away. She thanks him again, takes out the gum, and sticks it under the table.

Does this scene really need any commentary on the layers of absurdity it adds to the dung pile? I mean really, where have you ever seen a totally unsupervised twelve-year-old girl in a room full of extra-shady men that she doesn’t know at all, not even their names, playing poker for huge stakes? Remember, back then DNA evidence was not yet in use for identifying criminals, and something tells me she’d have so much foreign DNA on her by night’s end that not even the $7000 she just won could wipe her clean (see how great the new bankroll referral system is?). So its ‘reasonable’ that she a) is there at all, and b) isn’t afraid to take large sums of money off of them in a bitchy a manner as possible.

What? What’s that you say? Oh wow. You’re right - you got me. Let me try again. BESIDES Slim Preston’s game down on his Neverland Ranch in Amarillo, where have you ever seen a totally unsupervised twelve-year-old girl in a room full of extra-shady men that she doesn’t know at all, not even their names, playing poker?

Back at the boxing gym. Rupert from “Survivor” approaches WB and tells him he set a nice trap for the Aussie. Rupert was in the Aussie game and was also one of the third base coaches for Matador in the Sadsack game. Rupert offers to stake WB in the future, because he has a ‘guy’ that has a lot of money - and a lot of Elvis capes. But first WB has to prove himself to Rupert.

At the Lowball Casino, Matador is doing an interview with Norm Chad. Chad asks him some softball questions, then suddenly screams “If this poker fad doesn’t continue, I’m stuck doing the Spelling Bee and Cheerleading Championships on ESPN forever!” and storms off. Matador walks away embarrassed for Chad, and runs into a Mysterious Old Guy. Matador and MOG have a clandestine chat. Matador asks if MOG is checking up on “his investment”. MOG says they are down five straight quarters now and that the Board of Mystery won’t have it. Matador asks if they are still on schedule for after the tournament. MOG looks at him in disgust and says, “Just win it”. Guess MOG works for Nike. Lowball, still the laziest CEO as named by Forbes, sees this on one of his security monitors, and gets up from his couch to get a better look. “What!? But Adidas is supposed to be the official shoe for the World Poker Championships, not Nike!” he thinks to himself, growing alarmed.

Rupert and WB are talking, going over their cheating plan. WB must build pots for Rupert, folds to his reraises, and then dumps his chips to Rupert at the end. Yes, they are discussing this in the middle of the poker room floor. “See you at the final table,” says WB, assuredly. So their key plan revolves around them both reaching the final table first? Confusing. Miami approaches WB and asks what that was about, and he lies to her. We see mDMX sitting at a table, waiting for this tournament to start. An announcer says this is a satellite event, winner gets a seat into the Main Event.

Lowball’s office. Sadsack and the sheriff are confronting him about the tapes. Lowball hems and haws, but finally agrees. Some Lackey tells him that, oops, the tapes are on a weekly rotation and jussssssst got erased an hour ago. Darn. Sheriff says oh well, and thanks Lowball for his time. As he shakes Lowball’s hand, we see that the sheriff is wearing the same type of ‘meritorious service’ watch that Smarmy was wearing before.

Later, Smarmy and the sheriff run into each other. The sheriff complains to Smarmy that these damn gold watches are SUCH a huge giveaway that they work for Lowball, and asks why Lowball, a supposed expert on tells, would be so stupid and obvious. “Count yourself lucky,” Smarmy responds, “you weren’t around when Lowball used to give out ‘Golden African Lip-Plates of Meritorious Service’, and we had to wear THOSE things to kiss his ass. Thankfully, after a few years someone finally made the connection that all the lip-stretchers might be in cahoots, so Lowball got smart and gave watches instead. Stop complaining.” (http://www.worldmotobiker.com/africahorn2.htm)

At the tournament, mDMX is playing heads-up with some guy. Once again, a LOT of talking, none of it interesting. Board shows Qh7s3h, 8d, 7h. Guy finally says “I think you’re bluffing. Call,” and pushes in his chips. In yet another inaccuracy, mDMX THEN pushes in his chips too, though one assumes that if guy calls, mDMX already bet them. Guy shows Ah9h for the top flush. Yes, more crappy dialogue as mDMX says he has to go “Newark style.” What’s that? “Bus is full,” as he turns over QQ. I personally can’t wait until someone uses the term “Newark Style” now that it’s out there. Talk about a tell – can anything scream LOSER more than someone who uses Tilt catchphrases in live games? And thinks it’s cool? mDMX asks to get moved to the final table, where he sees WB and the rest of the players. Why mDMX was playing heads up, and THEN gets moved into a full final table (instead of two tables, one six handed, one five-handed) is…well you know. Kopplemanesque.

Back room kitchen, where Lowball is wandering around in. At least he’s working, instead of lazying around his suite, watching security cameras. Matador meets him there, and they conclude that Sadsack, though unsuccessful with the sheriff and the tapes, isn’t going anywhere.

Final table and its three handed – Rupert, WB, and mDMX. Rupert bets 10K. mDMX “goes to the Bayou” (folds). We see the board: KdQs6c, 4c, 8h. WB goes all in. Rupert looks at him, and then suddenly WB and Rupert together do a patty-cake, patty-cake, Baker’s man hand-slapping routine which is there subtle signal for Rupert to call, so he does. WB admits he got caught speeding, and Rupert shows Ks8s for two pair. WB says he must be tired trying a move like that, and shows AcJc. I actually think that this hand is hard to pick off as a cheating dump of chips. WB had an overcard and a one-end straight draw to the nuts on the flop, picked up the nut flush draw on the Turn, and then missed. Its very reasonable for him to bet at the flop, continue pushing the Turn, and then fire the massive bullet when he misses, especially if he reads Rupert for top pair, questionable kicker (like he actually had). With that very top pair and questionable quicker, Rupert could justify calling the flop and turn, and when he made the second pair, making that last massive call as WB would have no idea he just spiked his second pair with the 8h. It’s not the only way to play these hands, but well within the realm of non-cheating play.

To make it super obvious that it might be shady though, Rupert yells out the fact that he’s now at a 3-1 chip advantage over mDMX, and my how great that is for him. It’s so obvious that having WB stay in the game with Rupert and together take out mDMX, and THEN dumping to Rupert is a totally dominating strategy set to what they did, but we are dealing with the dumbest cheats (and writers) possible. In fact, if I was mDMX, I would take what actually happened as a sign that they weren’t cheats.

Seymour’s suite. WB is opening a beer when mDMX busts through the door, knocks the beer out of his hand, and accuses WB of running teams with Rupert. Miami confirms it, saying to WB “I thought you were going to give him hand-release under the table.” Does that mean that WB was betting on the come? Seymour gets pissed and says either fight or shut up. WB says he did it because now he has an ‘in’ with the Matador. mDMX claims he knew that, but that WB should have “called an audible” and told him. Seymour concurs – it was reckless. Seymour slaps down 20K and tells Miami that she is to lose that money to WB. That way Matador will take personal interest in WB, bypassing Rupert. Miami and mDMX get pissy and leave. Seymour and WB talk. Seymour gives WB hand release by telling him he’s the best since Stu Ungar, but that WB lacks patience. If WB is not careful, they will crush WB, “just like they crushed me.”. WB says Seymour never spoke about what happened between him and Matador. Seymour plays coy and doesn’t want to talk about it. “Let me just finish with this hand-release on you, and maybe we’ll both win.”.

The lackey who erased Sadsack’s requested tapes is walking in a parking structure. Sadsack jumps him from the side and pulls a gun on him, demanding to know when lackey got the call to erase the tapes. He pistol whips lackey for a while, and finally he breaks. Lackey tells him that Lowball came down and watched him erase the tapes. Since it’s standard practice to reveal all without necessity, lackey also tells him that Matador is involved too. I’m glad that even a tape-erasing lackey knows everything about Lowball’s syndicate.

Next, we see Skidmarks being roughed up by two large guys. Skidmarks gets thrown down a stairwell. Coming up the stairs is the Matador himself. Matador has been seeing Skidmarks all over the place. He wants to know what Skidmarks is up to and whom he is working for. Skidmarks denies everything – a first for this show. Matador pontificates that since he’s been playing poker, people wonder why he is so great. Matador says its because he knows everything about others, but they don’t know dick about him. Except that he used to have an Elvis show at the Stardust, since Matador is proud of those days. But that’s not all. It’s also about aggression, and when you are strong, you got to show it. The two big guys grab Skidmarks and hold him down, and then Matador jumps on top of Skidmark’s knee, painfully breaking one leg. Matador threatens to do the other leg, but Skidmarks relents. He tells them that he is working for Seymour.

Skidmarks was the guy who is known for shitting his pants, right? Even some low limit dealer in Laughlin knew the story, and Skidmarks acknowledged it. So when Skidmarks was being tossed around in the stairwell, shouldn’t we have seen another infamous bowel blowout? And when Matador jumped on his knee joint, snapping it, shouldn’t we have seen Skidmarks produce a massive mudslide out of his ass so severe that Jeb Bush and Bill Clinton would be dispatched by presidential decree to survey the area damage in a helicopter?

Voice over of WB as he walks through a casino, recounting the legendary Nick Dandilos / Johnny Moss game that went on for 4 months. The V.O. says that it was a no-limit hold’em game, when in fact no-limit 5 Card Stud was really the predominant game played. His point is that if an out-of-towner challenges a Vegas local, Vegas wins. Since all the principals except Sadsack are locals, I don’t really get what the point is, but thankfully it’s the end of the show, and that is enough for me.

Where to begin the post-mortem? I had some hopes for this show. A real treatment on poker and its players could make for some dramatic and comedic television. Instead, “Tilt” is just silly and offensive, with poker and gambling thrown in to hide its stink.

The authenticity is atrociously bad. I’m willing to suspend belief, but only if it’s compelling to do so, and since there are no characters I care about, it’s hard not to focus on the lunacy instead of looking past it. There is nothing in this world of Tilt that I can even remotely relate to, factually or emotionally.

The three main characters, besides one being White, one Black, and one Tits, are all exactly the same character. Wounded martyrs who are too cool for any room they are in, and are all so smug that if one of them died, I would feel joy. And they are annoying as poker players, who seem to prey on the even bigger stupidity of other players rather than show brilliance of their own. Seymour is stillborn.

Matador is what passes as a complex character in this show, but he just seems like a guy angry that his Elvis days are over. Sadsack is just so poorly written and portrayed that I have no idea if the audience is supposed to hate, sympathize, or mock him. In fact, that goes for all the characters, which makes watching this show excruciating.

So the characters suck, the plot sucks, and the writing really sucks. The only thing that could possibly keep this garbage heap of a show on the air is that it is hooked up to the poker bandwagon. In that respect, I’d be interested in seeing how the cable ratings of this show progresses, as a barometer measuring what stage the poker craze is at currently. If this show gets renewed, it could only be because it has some poker in it, and the public is still just that desperate for anything poker related no matter what. If it gets cancelled, and I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that based on its merits that it should be- immediately - then at least we know that craze is beyond the irrational stage. Not necessarily over, because Tilt is just SO bad that it might even allow the normally blind to see, but at least beyond the do-no-wrong fanboy stage.