TABLE PRESENCE

I go to a Saturday night game in Round Rock about once a month. Last time I was there, Jon the Baptist said I didn't have any table presence. That didn't make sense to me, since I am -- in fact -- renowned for my table presence -- it is sincerely legendary -- and my arrival in a poker room can be compared to an appearance of an exotic mythical creature -- kind of like a phoenix -- but with better card sense and a more articulate squawk. Oh well -- I was busy sending email or something, and whatever play I made during that hand was unlikely to make poker history anyway.
So, last night, I showed up at the game in a tuxedo, with an eyepatch and two ferrets -- Snowflake and Max. Max is chill. Snowflake is an albino. She's mean, too, like a good ferret should be, with little hot-pink eyes -- windows to hell.
I played one hand of no limit hold'em, won $37 with a set of jacks, and left -- ferrets, formal wear, and cash in tow.
Sometimes, the most effective display of power at the table is to minimize one's time at it.
By the way, regarding time and power, any good poker player must manage them effectively -- both are so dangerous -- in fact, time and power are talking roots of all evil. You can deduce that by noting that money is the root of all evil, time is money, money talks, and money is power. Thinking further, you can deduce that all evil must have its root in speech. I'll write about that later.

POKER HAIKU #10

My kings -- they were cracked.
This table's dirty red felt
Needs to be replaced.

POKER HAIKU #9

Big stack ecstasy --
All these chips in front of me --
Donkeys on my right.

BILLY AND MARIE

In news concerning things falling apart, centers not holding, and falcons not hearing falconers -- today a woman asked me what I did.
I told her I play poker.
She said no-- that I didn't understand -- what did I do for living?
Marie Antoinette never said let them eat cake -- but if she had said it, she wouldn't have said it out of spite, like a lot of historians lead people to believe. The truth is that when she was told that the people had no bread, she would have made the cake suggestion out of ignorance -- not out of meanness. She was so sheltered and out of touch that she actually believed the people had a choice between bread and cake and maybe other things, and since bread wasn't available, cake might be a viable option. She would have been making an attempt to solve a problem -- trying to be helpful.
And they cut her head off.

POLITICS MEETS POKER

I read that Ron Paul called poker a " microcosm of everything that is good and fair in America".
You know, I wrote myself in for President in 1992.
I did it again in 1996.
I'd risen above voting by 2000.
I wrote myself again again in 2004.
And I just may vote for Ron Paul this year.
Not because of principle--
but in spite of it.

POKER HAIKU #8

Motorcycling --
Through the central Texas night --
Cards without a cause.

POKER HAIKU #7

You're blinking, dear friend.
I see your eyes through your shades.
Chips in jeopardy.

NO LIMIT HOLD'EM

They were men, very serious men. They had lots of chips and yesterday they didn't play a hand for hours, overnight even, they didn’t care. They were serious. They were there for serious poker. Not out of fun, but out of need. The first thing one would do when he arrived was to take out his artificial eye and bounce it off the felt table. Then he would bite off the dealer's ear, spit it out and announce “I am a poker player. I’m here for serious poker.” When the other man sat down for heads-up, they commenced the handshake. The handshake took two hours. They clenched and grinned, trying to see whose handshake was the wyliest. Seeing who would break first -- and how. Once cards were in the air, strategies began. First, the big stack assumed a fetal position, cried and grunted for whiskey, and while the waitress got it, he throw a card-protector through an interior window muttering “nothing personal, you understand it’s poker.” Then he stood up and pissed on the table talking about how bad beats are bleeding him dry. “Damn,” the other replied, staring at 9-5 offsuit, "you're gonna have to lick that up." They maintained civility while opening each other’s shirt and gouging into flesh with broken wine glasses --piercing layers of yellow fat -- the fat that just last month had been in a vinyard. Then while making an important raise with their left hands, they would stab each other’s over-worked liver with their rights, and find that above the liver was the heart. So, they would clench each other’s heart, eyes locked to eye, grin locked to grin, and they would face off. Each maintaining normal, relaxed conversational tone, broken by the occasional spasm from the other's white-knuckled grip -- that tight heartgrip. As of this writing, neither player has folded.

Four hours on the lake yesterday and all I had to show for it is two little fish. So I took out the ten foot leather whip I keep in my tackle box, leaned over the edge of the boat, and gave the lake nine lashes. The lake was only due six or seven lashes, but I was particularly frustrated, so it got nine. Before the ancient Athenians did anything important, they's usually consult the oracle at Delphi. They didn't pray to Zeus like you might expect -- Zeus wasn't a benevolent guiding force for them -- Zeus was selfish. The central texas fishing forecast for tomorrow is better than it was yesterday, but the experience still leaves me wondering how much longer in life I can avoid that Schlitz Malt Liquor Bull -- and at what point my avoidance becomes as respected and noble as a virgin's honor.