Out of Time, Out of the Muck

"Out of the muck" is derivative poker terminology for off the ground or up to speed (i.e. – "Finally, this game is out of the muck"). Which is odd, because muck refers to the discard pile at a poker table. Maybe it is slightly pejorative, muck, since it also can be used as a verb; to fold. And folding is lame.

a·nach·ro·nism - noun

1. Something or someone that is not in its correct historical or chronological time.


2. An error in chronology in which a person, object, event, etc., is assigned a date or period other than the correct one.

The Grand!

Yes, Gabe Kaplan is in this movie. And David Cross:
How did you learn to play poker?
"By playing darts."

superPOST (#100)

What exists?

on·to·logy - noun

the study of conceptions of reality and the nature of being.

on·to·log·i·cal - adjective

1. Of or relating to ontology.
2. Of or relating to essence or the nature of being.
3. Of or relating to the argument for the existence of God holding that the existence of the concept of God entails the existence of God.
   

In the 11th century Anselm argued the existence of God a priori (from what comes before). Without a lot of philosophy jargon: God exists because the concept of God exists (see definition #3 above). A similar ontological foundation was put forth by Descartes hundreds of years later: "I think, therefore I am."

Two holes:
a. this argument limits the being of God to a human cognitive scale
b. the concept of a unicorn also exists

What exists?
Tacos, enchiladas, chile rellenos, and Grey Goose Le'Citron



A fine meal served at La Tolteca Express, particularly notable since I was the only patron in the entire restaurant.

"Hell is other people."
- Sartre

. .. ... .. . .. ... .. . .. And For Good Measure ... .. . .. ... .. . .. ... .. .

"Two of the greatest poker minds." Bear in mind that they're playing with their own CASH. That's what makes GSN's "High Stakes Poker" the best on television. Also Gabe Kaplan's masterful commentary.



If you really want to feel sick (or schadenfreude), check out this hand between Gus Hansen and Daniel Negreanu.

Pay Me

Googled "wealthy street poker," and found this near the bottom of the first results page.





Check out the source link at the bottom of the Mucking the Straight Flush post.

Joe's Pond, Vermont

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

My first day working at MetroColor (Parcels' color printshop). I get in at noon, cut a few display boards and am dismissed by 4:00. To the parent's house to collect ski goggles, hats, gloves, etc. (it's going to be cold...more on that later). I forget my insulated winter boots, as well as neglect the neoprene face masks at the bottom of the ski bag. Back to Newark for packing and departure.

7:30PM, off to Phelps Lane to meet the group at the Jones house. Pete Jones is late in coming and we don't leave until 10. Stop in Upper Darby or Lower Contchy, or Baliwhowhatz Philadelphia to pick up the ubiquitous Jordan the Jew. Northwards!

5:45AM, January 26. Thursday morning, arrive at the cabin. The outside thermometer in the Jeep is reading -23 F, and I am impressed that it is calibrated to go that low. I am also wishing I had my insulated boots. The cabin is warm thanks to a previous arrival from the group, and despite being tired from the road the growing group opts to kick off the weekend by drinking into the morning. I sleep until after 5PM; the cycle begins afresh.

After dinner on Thursday we start a $10 buy in 11-handed Hold'em tournament. I feel like I am playing perfectly, and work my way into the final 5 with a decent stack - but the blinds are getting high. I have a little over 2000 chips and limp in for 100 under the gun with two Kings in the hole. The button called - I wanted him to raise - but Jordan cooperates nicely by raising to 300 from the small blind. To my delight the big blind decided to call. Now there was 800 chips in the pot, and I didn't get cute - I re-raised for all my chips. Jordan called quickly and showed me two sixes (a generally weak hand, and one that I am a 4.5:1 favorite to beat). I assure him that he's not dead yet just in time to watch a six peel off on the flop - hooray! I steam my way over to the fireplace wondering how much lift tickets at Stowe cost.


I discover Friday that the answer is $59 for a half-day pass. Tack on the $75 for two-day ski and boot rentals and the cost of additional cold weather gear and my fragile bankroll is looking pretty bleak. That 5000 chip pot last night might have enabled me to discount $60 from my travel expenses, oh well. Even during the daytime the thermometer at Stowe's summit was at 20 below zero, and I'm loving my new leggings ($35), facemask ($26), and glove liners ($18). Especially because the gondolas are not running due to extreme weather conditions. The high-speed quad ride to the top of the mountain takes a delightfully long time (big mountain), and provides amazing views of the surrounding peaks between shattering gusts of -45 degree chilly wind.

One positive aspect to skiing in such radical cold is that snow doesn't stick to clothes, which end up nice and dry. A downside (other than frostbite) is that any moisture freezes instantly. An ice scraper would have come in hands for my goggles, but despite difficult visibility the skiing was awesome. I stick to the "Vermont Blues" and am plently challenged by the intermediate slopes, but I feel good on the planks after a few years off (zero wipe-outs). Dan, Toma, Tyghe and myself get in four afternoon runs before the lifts close, Blaine bailed after one run, citing prohibitive cold. The whole group reconvenes in the lodge for a beer, capping an excellent half-day at Stowe.

The evening dinner tastes especially delicious on an empty skiing stomach, huge props to Pete Jones for the food preparations. Chicken parmesan for 18 people is no small order, and we finally ate around 8PM. I fared better in the after-dinner poker tournament on Friday, and eventually swung my way into the final two with Toma. We agreed to chop the prizes for 1st and 2nd after about a dozen hands of heads-up play. Profit: $40. Which happens to be exactly the price of a "student" lift ticket at Jay Peak, where we headed the next day...

Everyone gets up "early" on Saturday and we're out of the cabin by 10AM. The ski-rentals from yesterday are already loaded in the cars, and we head north to Jay Peak, which is near the Canadian border. I borrow Noah's University of Delaware ID and continue to make good use out of my new ski-mask at the outdoor ticket window. She never suspected a thing. The weather conditions are much more amenable today, and the skiiers in the group are more numerous today. We attack the mountain in small groups, opting for the quad lift over the long wait for the 60-person gondola ride to the summit. Five excelent runs breeze by and it's time for lunch. Bowl of chili: $5, Onion rings: $4, Bottled H20: $2, Cheeseburger: $4, Rolling Rock beer: $4. Overeating, overpaying, and loving it.

After lunch we get in line for the gondola, which gets packed to the gills with skiiers and their gear, nuts to butts. The ride to the top of the mountain is made more colorful as Jon "F-ing" Stull regales us (and everone else in the cab) with some bull words. I remember it being loud and inappropriate - derp! Incidentally, guess who snowboards. Any asinine chanting is quickly drowned out by the stark natural beauty at the peak of the mountain. The sidewinder trail that led us around the back of the moutain was amazing. Tyghe pointed out the "sundog" formed by sunlight refracting through tiny particles of frozen vapor in the air, an aparent rarity. The valley below us was completely blanketed in snow covered pines, untouched by the likes of trails and lifts and snowboarders from New York. It was an ethereal experience which I savored by skiing slowly...regretting that I had no camera. We get in a few more runs, including a rather tedious trek down "Bonzai Bonanza." For future reference, kiddies, stay away from trails with a surplus of the letter "z" in the name...

Poker?

Old habits die hard. The irony, of course, is that my new job is the primary source of temptation to resume my old ways. Poker, poker, poker.

Working at Parcels with a bunch of degenerates definitely contributed to my relapse into the desolate world of fear and loathing that is poker.







Loving every minute of it.

I have (AK) and raise to $4 on the button behind one limper in a toughish 4-handed game. BB Bossman reraises to $10, limper and I both call ($31 pot). Flop is KcJcXc (I do not have the Ac). It checks to me and I bet $10. BB check-raises to $20 (?). Limper folds, I grimace and call ($71 pot). Turn is non-club 10. Bossman now checks again (?!?). He could have flopped the nut flush (AcQc, etc.) and is slowplaying, but I read a lot of tentativeness in the small check-raise and subsequent check on 4th street. I put him on a medium strength hand, possibly a dry Ace of clubs. If my hand was good on the flop it should still be good.

What type of hand would he re-raise with from the BB, then play this way after the flop? He could have QQc, AcKx, or AAc. These are the hands I'm most worried about (even though I have the QQ beat and the AK tied, both hands can easily beat me on the river).

The small check-raise and following check make me think he's trying for a free card with the nut flush draw. I move all-in for my last $35 (NO FREE CARDS!). He balks for a second, but calls in a way the tells me I'm beat. He shows (JJ) and I'm dead to a Queen. At least I had outs.

I love moving into big pots with a marginal hand that could easily be drawing dead (almost as much as I love losing). Poker situations like that make me all warm and fuzzy. Of course, if I moved him off his hand or got paid off by a missed draw the play would have seemed pretty strong. Hell, I would have even settled for a little old Q on the river.

Lesson: pushing marginal hands which are either a slight favorite or a huge underdog will get you into trouble at No Limit Hold'em.

Alternative lesson: always fold AK. Always.

P.S. - A previous encounter in the same game:

I have (AK) and raise to $4 from late position in loose 6-handed game, multiple callers. Flop KK2, SB opens by shoving all-in. I Call. (22) wins the pot.

It's been over a year since my last post on Wealthy Street Poker. If I start winning money I'll have to reopen the annals. At this point I'm about even since I started working at Parcels (but I'm stuck for $130 in the office game, which is unacceptable). More to come.

Internet Gambling

Looks like I may have found a job just in time, because Paradise Poker might be history for U.S. players. In the past few years there has been some bubbling on Capitol Hill about online gambling, but major legislation and enforcement have not been swiftly implemented. Alas, all good things must come to an end. Now a major crackdown is taking effect on enforcing online-gaming laws.

The 1960's "Wire Act" was outlawed wagers placed over the telephone. It was meant to reduce illegal bookmaking operations which were and remain integral to organized crime. Now more legislation is coming through, precedented by the Wire Act, to criminalize placing wagers on the internet.

I just received a notification from FirePay, an online fund transferring company, that they will no longer service transfer of funds to/from online gambling accounts. This is a node of interest for my personal interaction with internet gambling and the laws about it in the U.S..

Previously I, and millions of others, interacted with gambling sites with almost complete autonomy, unaware and certainly unbothered by any legislature/enforcement thereof. I didn't really care whether or not transferring funds from my U.S. based FirePay account to off-shore poker servers was technically legal because all the businesses I was dealing with (my bank, FirePay, and Paradise Poker) were all legitimate corporations.

Now it seems as if the enforcement foot has come down, or is coming down anyway. The "Unlawful Internet Gambling Enforcement Act" is upon us.

Major credit card companies ceased accepting direct transfer of funds from online gambling accounts a couple of years ago (although most, from what I can tell, continued allowing purchases of chips at these sites). Now the powers that be have started breaking down any other form of fund transfers to these sites (Bush's name has been directly associated with all of this, including a reference as such in the email I got from FirePay).

It appears as if this new legislation is going to have a major impact on internet gambling within the United States.

P.S. (1/08/2007) - I've been reading up a bit on this topic. It seems that the passing of this law was spearheaded by conservatives in political asperation. Obviously the poker community is outraged, especailly because internet poker is not specified in the bill. Actually, the language regarding what exactly constitutes "Unlawful Internet Gambling" is non-existent. So, despite the fact that U.S. based financial institutions and the majority of offshore poker sites are declining business to U.S. internet gamblers, the law is open for interpretation and the poker community is rallying to do some battle. Good luck.

Reading Review

Gotta love voluntary summer reading. In one life's many small ironies, the once despised task of reading assigned books for the upcoming school year has segued naturally into a preference for reading my own selection of books during the warm months. The hard part is forcing myself to read actual literature, not just books about poker. That being said, here's a sketch of the books I've read so far this season:

The Professor, the Banker, and the Suicide King, Michael Craig, nonfiction. The tagline for this book appearing under the title on the cover is "Inside the Biggest Poker Game of All Time." Craig's text is easy to read, without suffering from the downright childishness that plagues some other poker non-fiction. The story he unfolds is unavoidably compelling, even for anyone who doesn't know who Howard Lederer, Andy Beal or Ted Forrest is.

What the book does most successfully, even beyond its incisive and accurate accounts of the fabled "Big Game," is to portray the nature of these larger-than-life individuals who willingly and literally risk millions on the turn of a card every day. The glitter and pomp of Texas banker Andy Beal's challenge to the top professional poker players for nearly every dollar they could scrape together is not only an interesting poker tale, but a curious depiction of our shared humanity. The need to gamble is a mutated over-grown aspect of that which afflicts these great players. Only the most talented can overcome their addiction by finding a way to channel it into success. Terrifying and thrilling.


The Gambler, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, novel. I saw a cartoon once, I think it was a FarSide. It showed a man reading on the beach being confronted by an officer, "Sir, Dostoyevsky is not appropriate summer reading." Book police. Talk about delving into the depths of humanity. I have never previously read any Dostoyevsky (D.), I managed to dodge Brothers Karamozov in high school and didn't take a second glance. It was only after reading references to his work in two of the great poker non-fictions (Alvarez's Biggest Game in Town and McManus' Positively Fifth Street - both of which I've re-read also this summer) that my interest was piqued. The line quoted by McManus appears near the end of the novel, and is roughly, "The mere sound of chips nearly sends me into convulsions," spoken reflectively by the story's anti-hero Alexis Ivanovich, a void college graduate with dubious employment history, relying on gambling to meet his needs (um....).

He theorizes, "Russians are too richly and mutifariously endowed to be able to find a decent form for themselves very quickly. It's a matter of form. For the most part, we Russians are so richly endowed that it takes genius for us to find a decent form. Well, but most often there is no genius." Needless to say, I associated deeply with the D.'s thoughts spoken through Ivanovich. Again (as I am told is common to D.) the ending is dark and cryptic (sort of like death, no?). You know you're back to good literature when there is no distinct ending and it's at least implied that the main character dies painfully. Good book, definitely not appropriate summer reading.

One of a Kind, Nolan Dalla and Peter Alston, nonfiction. "The rise and fall of Stuey 'The Kid' Ungar, the world's greatest poker player." I found this book to be excellent. It may not be as literary as Dostoyevsky, or even Alvarez for that matter, but the story that it tells is rich with meaning. Stu Ungar isn't in Rounders and you won't hear a lot about him on ESPN commentary, but the often unspoken fact is that he won the main event at the World Series of Poker an unprecedented three times. While he was alive he was undisputed as the world's best gin player. His mind was truly...well, the title of the book pretty much gets it. Like the players depicted in Professor, Banker, Suicide King, Stuey had the gift/curse. His life was amazing, tortured, blessed, enviable, and pitiful. He epitomizes the great tensions that strain humanity: glimpses of pure greatness at odds with the chains of compulsion and addiction. Although the text does not portray him as the most personable guy, I would like to have met Stu.

Those are the three I've read already. I started Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead, but it's like a bujillion pages long and I'm beginning to second guess the decision to buy the $8.95 verion with teeny-tiny print crammed into small pages over the $20 one with good production value. Maybe I can check out a readable version from the library and leave my copy on the intellectual trophy case (aka bookshelf).

9.17 Update

Sophie's World, Jostein Gaarder. This self described "novel about the history of philosophy," was basically an intro philosophy textbook thinly disguised by a fairly disposable plot. Nonetheless, I did enjoy refurbishing my limited knowledge of said philosophical history. The story was vague and peripheral for over half the book, but it did take an interesting turn. However, I thought the plot disintegrated at the conclusion. Tricky to recommend for anyone other than intro philosopy types, probably hard to plough through all the textbooky stuff if philosophy isn't your thing.

On Art and Life, John Ruskin. A pamphlet actually, from Penguin Press's "Great Ideas" series which include other pamplets by the likes of Machiavelli, Payne, Nietzche, Darwin, etc.. Ruskin was actually referenced briefly in the previous Gaarder text, which I thought was interesting, considering I acquired both books at random. Anyway, this is one of those looks smart on the coffee table kind of books, a real pain to actually read. But when I finally did get around to forcing the old-timey english down I found remarkable relevance in Ruskin's ideas about division of labour and originality and creativity in the workforce. He calls for a "humanizing" of the worker, have the worker think and the thinker work. Now if I could just get a job.

"You must either make a tool of the creature, or a man of him. You cannot make both."

Late Night at McCoy’s (and Nothing to Show)

Angle Shooter n.: A player attempting to win extra money with tactics of dubious legitimacy. (Defined in glossary of Positively Fifth Street by Jim McManus).

I drove up to Pennsylvania last night to play in free pool tournament ($50 gift-card for winner) at what turned out to be a real seedy bar called McCoy’s. The three pool tables were located in the basement, which, as the night wore on, became more and more populated with persons of unsavory character. Myself included? Not this time. It kind of reminded me of the scene described in the Little Feat song "Spanish Moon" about a dive establishment.

Ever hear the phrase "flat beer out of rusty pipes"? I don’t know if the pipes were actually rusty, but the Coors Light on tap was so flat that I actually started buying bottles by the end of the night. This was especially tough b/c it was $1 drafts – but I figure even $1 for beer you can’t drink is still a bad deal. I signed up for the pool tourney at around 10:15 (it was supposed to have already started). I shot a few warm-up games and was feeling pretty good about my 8-Ball skills for the evening.

Finally, at after 11:30, the tourney got underway. I had to wait for my first round match (best of three games) because there weren’t enough tables to simultaneously accommodate the 15 or so people who signed up. When I eventually got to play it was against a younger guy named Brandon. I’m going to extricate any racial identifying for this post, but I will say this – I played people of varying skin tones, and by the end of the night an overall sense of misanthropy was reinforced in lieu of any racial stereotype reification. I tried to start the game off friendly and classy by ceding the first break. We then (in typical disjointed poolroom conversation) tried to work out the basic ground rules (call your shots, open table after break, etc.). The first time that Brandon slopped in an unintentional shot and continued shooting I said, "Ok, well, next time call that if that’s how you want it to go in." It happened at least two more times, I never protested much more than a slightly sarcastic, "Yeah, yeah, whatever" kind of thing. He was also doing stuff like palming the ball that the cue was near so he wouldn’t move it, standing near the rail in my line of sight for every shot I took, and giving me the, "You sure that’s where you want it?" kind of crap on eight-ball shots. I beat him soundly two games straight. Next!

Side Note: It seems to me that people who invest so much attention on finding little b.s. ways to get an "edge" often lack the requisite fundamental skills in the game they are playing. This has historically been true for card cheats – why should pool be any different? South-side-shark angle shooting is lowbrow, classless, and pretty laughable. Get some game and play straight-up like a man (not a macho thing, I suppose it could be "like a decent person," but that kind of breaks the flow).

My next game was with a 26 year-old named Alex. I had watched him play his first match an heard him talking a pretty good game, so I anticipated a challenge. He won the lag for the first break, but I took control of the table right away, pocketing a bunch of "trouble" balls and leaving myself a good looking situation. Sure enough, I was able to bank the 8 into the corner pocket on my third turn at the table. About halfway through our secondd game we both agreed that the 8 had to be banked in (by handshake, he was big on the handshake – I probably shook the guys hand 20 times last night). It actually saved me, he was the first to it and made a mistake by accidentally putting it straight into a pocket. "Cool," I thought to myself, I just won my second match. Not exactly. Alex starts in about, "I saved you on that game," honor-this, blibbety-bloobety that. Ok, buddy, get more quarters from the guy running the show and I’ll play you again. At this point the people who I knew there had all left, and I was in no mood to get my ass beaten over a free-roll pool tourney. The last game was close, and it was looking grim when he pocketed his second-to-last ball leaving only the seven-ball hanging near on the edge of a pocket (no bank-the-8 rule this time). But wait, the cue trickled behind one of my stripes and it looked like I would get a chance to finish the game myself. Strangely, lining up what I thought was a bank-shot attempt, he pocketed the 8-ball in the side pocket! No question mark on that game, I had now beaten him three games in a row.

The only problem is that when reported the win to the tournament "director" a little while later he told me that Alex said he had won. In the meantime he had been buying me beers and treated to a side-game of nine ball while I (I guess he thought he) was waiting. I won that game, too, by the way. I explained what had happened, and I got to play again, this time against a girl named Squeak. I botched the first game after running a bunch of balls and scratching on the 8-ball (my favorite way to win and least favorite way to lose). I actually wasn’t worried, she didn’t seem to be very good at all. I racked up the second game while wondering how she won two previous matches. I was shooting real well still and worked my way to a pretty easy shot on the 8-ball with maybe 5 of her solids still on the table. The catch: on my previous shot I pocketed my called shot, while knocking in a solid after the cue ball had struck my ball. This is not unusual, and had actually happened at least once already in the previous game. Now she indicates that she thinks it’s her shot because I hit one of her balls in. Here we go again. This time I didn’t hesitate to object, and decided that the best thing to do was just say, "I don’t think so" and hit the 8. I had no problem winning the next game and was now in the finals – sweeet.

Alex was still around and still bitching about how he beat me and I was lying (uh-oh, once the "liar" talk comes out it’s time to think about rolling). It didn’t matter much anyway, because at this point it was after 2:00am, and I was told that "no one won." I was pretty mad (it seemed like everyone there was trying their hardest to screw me over) but I reminded myself yet again that there was very little at stake and decided to walk.

Cest la Vie. Live and learn.

Four Nines at the Tropicana

I woke up a week an a half ago (Saturday) with a wicked head cold. Of course, that weekend was graduation, packing/cleaning the apartment, capped off by a 12 hour car trip back to Delaware on Monday. It was probably as sick as I had been throughout all four years of college. The first thing I did on Tuedsay morning was go to the doctor - I'm still taking anti-biotics (can you mix that with alchohol?).

Side Note: No more than two minutes out of my driveway I was almost killed by a careening old lady who opted to disregard the red light at the intersection which I was in the process of turning left across. The headlines flashed before my eyes, "Recent Graduate Killed by Old Person on Way to Doctor's Office." Funny concept for a South Park episode, not as funny when you're actually staring down a little tuft of white hair above the steering wheel coming right for you at 50 mph.

The next Saturday was the University of Delaware graduation. I was able to skip the ceremonies while cashing in on a couple of graduation parties (all the free booze, none of the work!). What better location is there for a little after-party graduation celebrating than...that's right: ATLANTIC CITY. About seven of us piled into two cars and hit the Atlantic City Expressway at about 9:00pm on Saturday night. I had been to AC once before (Spring Break, Sophomore year - very not 21) but that was in the middle of March. The whole town was hopping, and it was my first [legal] venture into the big casino town. We hit the Tropicana and ended up staying there the whole night (well, there were a few side excursions to...um...Hooters, yeah, that's it).

I played poker the whole time, about seven hours straight. The room was enormous, probably 50 tables at least, and I was able to get a seat at a $4/$8 game without any wait. The game was delicious, very passive, a lot of really easy players, and I was doing well for the first couple of hours. At one point I had juiced my $120 buy-in to over $250. I could say that the following hours of reversal were a result of all that free alchohol (that's what I'm talking about AC), but that, in all it's Hemmingwayesque romanticism, would simply not be true. The fact of the matter was that I simply stopped getting dealt cards. Even if I did play a hand for a flop, I was mucking before showdown. I went for over two hours straight without winning a single pot, and my $130 profit had dipped to as low as a $50 deficit at one point. By the time everyone else was ready to go I had built my chips back up to only -$20, so I wasn't too adamant about staying at the table.

Interestingly enough, the hand that broke my two-hour losing streak was doozy. I was in the small-blind and someone had already raised the pot with one caller. I checked my cards and saw two black nines (the hand Hellmuth won with in '89). I just called, as did the big-blind. I caught a glimpse of a nine peeling off when the dealer was mid-flop, and was more than a little surprised to see a second nine hit the board as well. I checked, the big blind bet, and the pre-flop raiser raised. The guy between then cold-called the raise! And here is where I made my big mistake: I just called instead of reraising. Whenever people flop a fire-breathing monster like that they feel compelled to "slow-play" it (not much concern about someone catching up in the hand). But in this situation (unless someone had JJ in the hole) I had the board locked up - no one else could have had a nine, and with so many callers even a hand like AA or KK would be likely to only check-call the rest of the way. Of course, this is what happened, although no one even called me all the way to the river (yeah, there were some pretty bad players). The fact that no one called me all the way also gave me the opportunity to casually toss the four nines into the muck without a word - something which takes an inordinate amount of self-control, I will add.

I guess the easiest way to play quads on the flop is when someone else moves all-in in front of you (QT) Q77 vs. (77) and all you have to do is say, "Yeah, I'm gonna go ahead and call you."

The Master's Lament

Q. "Why must I lose to this idiot!?"

Chess Master Aaron Nimzowitzch
after having leapt onto a table during
a tournament.

A. Because you can.

Poker Sucks

Ok, poker is a big joke these days but I just had to post this pic from the FullTilt homepage. I don't know exactly what it was a promo for, but I found the image to be hilarious. There's something about seeing Phil Ivey's shadowy face in a reference to where Sean Connery would normally appear that I find totally ridiculous. Phil Ivey is such a champ.





The handles of the pros on this site appear in red, which I believe is the root of the pun "The Hunt for RED in October" as opposed to the Tom Clancy movie The Hunt for Red October.

It Begins...

Author's note: I originally intended for this to be a very short post which would insinuate that the poker bug had bitten again. However, once I started typing I found that there were more things that had to be said (funny how that works). Anyway, don't be surprised if I re-open the annals of WEALTHY STREET POKER sometime soon for updates on my micro-limit adventure.

Less than a week ago I randomly discovered a residual $0.75 (that's seventy five cents) on my Paradise Poker account. The reason for this is that Paradise only allows cash-outs in full dollar increments. The last time I cashed out was over three months ago, similarly, the last time I played poker online was also that long ago. In the time since I haven't even touched my account, hence the discovery of the $0.75.

I've been playing it in my downtime at Calvin at $.02/.04 Seven Card Stud and Limit Hold'em tables. Not too long ago the lowest stakes that Paradise offered was $.50/$1, obviously there would be no way of playing $0.75 at those limits, but it's plenty to sit down with when the small blind is only a penny. Actually, I should clarify...I started at the 2c/4c limits and gradually progressed to slightly higher limits such as .05/.10 and .10/.20 as the roll increased slightly yet progressively. It's amazing that after all I've been through in poker a thirty-five cent pot at micro-micro limits can still give me a little charge. On that note, it's never really been about the money. I thought it was at some points, but it wasn't.

Regardless, that $0.75 is now over forty dollars ($43.33 to be exact). If the number one rule for professional gamblers is to play a game that can be beaten, I'd say that this exemplifies that rule. It may be silly for such little money, but hundreds and hundreds of hands later I was able to multiply a seemingly infinitesmally small bankroll into almost 6000% as much as its original state. That's a pretty decent profit margin, wouldn't you say? And the fact of the matter was that it was actually fairly easy. I just sat there patiently waiting for good spots and practicing a little finesse every once in a while. In fact, it was almost a given that I was going to keep increasing the stack due to the fact that the lowest limit games are super easy to beat. That model by which dollars are earned at poker is radically different from "gambling" such as blackjack. In order for anyone to ever even think about turning $0.75 into $43.33 at blackjack they would have to risk huge chunks of the bankroll constantly and in turn would need to be consistently lucky for that period of betting. For long periods of time it is impossible to continue to multiply a bankroll by playing roulette. You either go broke quickly or slowly, but you do go broke.

Now it's time to take a look at what is probably the second rule for pro "gamblers." That would be not losing all your winnings once you get 'em. This is the rule I don't much care for. Historically I have much preferred to win some money at beatable limits and blow it all by risking too much at higher stakes. After all, card smarts won't keep any one from going broke - money management is as important if not more. That being said, I'm sure that I'll blow that $40 in the next few days. What was I gonna do with that money anyway, buy stuff?

P.S. - Any reference made to the general concept of professional gambling above does not in any way imply that I wish to pursue that as my sole career. I am simply using that as an example from which to draw conclusions about gambling.

P.P.S. - I had it up to over $95 at one point, the operative word being had. Enough said.

Music vs. Poker

Author's note: this post was originally made on WEALTHY STREET POKER and has been moved here since the creation of this site.

Maybe I should start a separate blog for this kind of stuff. It would seem silly to keep posting stuff about the music I'm into these days on a site titled "WEALTHY STREET POKER." Either way, I'm posting it here for now because I simply don't have anything to talk about regarding poker. Anyone who has been keeping up with the posts may have noticed that my discussion of hands/strategy, etc. has ceased as of late. The reason for this is that I have not been playing any hands to discuss. I have fallen off of the face of the poker scene, both online and local - maybe it's been almost two months since I played a hand of poker? Probably less than that, but certainly nothing regular.

"So what's been occupying all of those hours?" one might ask. School started last week, and that has kept me very busy with all sorts of correspondence and paperwork I have to complete which pertains to my graduation in the Spring. So far nothing is locked in, and that's not a good thing. But I'm working on it, and anyway, school doesn't really count as a replacement for poker. At least in the past I haven't cut cards out of the equation once classes start. If I had to identify one thing that's occupied my "interest zone" is the music. I've been paying a lot more attention to music recently - appreciating it more. Not only am I trying to appreciate newly discovered qualities of music that I know, I'm also discovering new bands/songs altogether. There hasn't exactly been a clean break with heavier rock from the 70's/80's, but I've been more partial recently to gentler, more intricate fare like Alan Parsons, Allman Brothers, America, The Band, CSN&Y, Marshall Tucker Band, Steely Dan, Tom Petty, Yes, etc.

One band that I've been aware of my entire life but never invested much effort into investigating is Little Feat. Fortunately I got my dad the 4-disc box set a few years ago for Christmas, so now I have more Feat than I know what to do with. I think it represents a very interesting dynamic when many of the band's best songs are live versions of album tracks. Perhaps stating opinions as absolutes is not the most tactful thing, but anyone who thinks that the album version of "Dixie Chicken" is better than the live one from Waiting for Columbus is a fool. "Willin" is pretty good live, too.

Oh, I forgot to mention Genesis, Pink Floyd, and Phil Collins (yes, I know that he was in Genesis). The list could go on, but you get the picture. Here's an idea: get the full eight minute version of Phil Collin's "Take Me Home" and listen to through good quality headphones with plenty of volume. I'll just say that there's some wild stuff going on in that song that you definitely cannot hear when it's playing over the grocery store Muzac speakers. The same goes for Toto's "Africa" (another all-time elevator music classic).

"I seek to cure what's deep inside,
Frightened of this thing that I've become."

Pretty deep, Toto.