Thursday June 2, 7:00pm:
Sushi with Felicia at Yami Sushi. See her blog for directions and details. Last year this event was fun enough to draw half a poker room away from the felt. I (Otis) couldn't make it last year because I was waiting on CJ to show up. This year I'm taking Mrs. Otis out for a 5th anniversary dinner. Still, if you haven't met Felicia, you need to. She'll put you in your place and then make you a better poker player inside of half an hour.

Thursday June 2, 11:00pm:
H.O.R.S.E at the MGM Grand. Wanna check out the new MGM Grand poker room? Well, Felicia has put her diplomatic skills to work. MGM has agreed to spread H.O.R.S.E for us Thursday night. It'll be a late game starting at 11PM. Otis and Felicia will be there for sure. I suspect Al will be there as well. We can seat ten, with two sitting out for the Stud rounds. Stakes can be as low as $2/$4. I'd sort of like to make this a blogger meet-up place for late Thursday. So come out and say hi. All else fails, there is a lot of poker there. And I hear bars, as well.

Friday June 3, 10:15am:
The bloggers playing in the WSOP Event #2 will be breakfasting together at the Sao Paulo Cafe at the Rio. This ain't any mandatory event or anything, but we're doing it so we can have one last moment of solidarity, grab a picture and such before going every man for himself into the felty fray. If you wanna stop by and give the boys a good luck hug, feel free.

Friday June 3, Noon:
$1500 NLHE WSOP Event #2, featuring a cavalcade of bloggers. The event will last until there is a final table or until completion of the 12th level (which would come sometime after 1 in the morning). Scott Fischman won $300,000 for first place last year with just 831 entrants.

Friday June 3, about 10pm or later:
Storm the castle!!! Should all bloggers be eliminated early, and I don't expect this to be the case, the bloggers will storm The Excalibur poker room for craziness not seen since Pauly held the Nuts against a guy who just got cold-cocked. The start time of this may vary greatly, but the event is expected to occur.

Saturday June 4, 9:30am:
Registration for the WPBT Aladdin Casino Classic ends. The tourney is scheduled to start at 10am, so please try to be in place as close to 9:30am as possible. Also, please try to be respectful of the poker room. What does that mean? Don't show up drunk off your ass. I don't mean to be harsh, but I've worked really hard on this, and I'd rather not be embarrassed. I'm just asking for a little respect, that's all. I'm not ordering you all to be stone-cold sober on 9 hours sleep... but I think you know what I'm asking. Thanks.

Saturday June 4, 10am:
The second WPBT live event begins with about 80 entries and countless side bets. Blogger pride is on the line. Beware the hammer! The final entry fee will be $65:

$60 gets $1,000 in chips
($8 goes to the house)
$5 add-on gets extra $500
Total $65 buy-in

20 minute blinds:
25/50
50/100
100/200
200/400
300/600
400/800
500/1000

Saturday June 4, 2pm:
Play begins again in the WSOP Event #2. Hopefully a few bloggers will be left, and perhaps even reach the final table! If that's the case, I'll probably race to bust out of the WPBT event so I can go railbird (as if I'll survive long otherwise). In case you're wondering this final table will be televised by ESPN. It will air August 23rd at 8pm.

Saturday June 4, 5pm:
WPBT after-party hosted by AlCantHang at LaSalsa Cantina in the Showcase Mall a block from the Aladdin Casino. There are 345,875 varieties of tequilla there, or so I've heard.

Otis' Words

"I'll see your Guinness and raise you one egg salad."

"Three tables, one playground, half-drunk"

"Let's Get to Saturday, shall we?"

Decisions, decisions"

"The Holiday Classic through Otisian eyes"

Bordering on the Adriatic

"From rock gardens to Sherwood Forest."

You don't have to go home...

CJ's Words

"Day 1: Cowboys and Hookers"

"Day 2: Doubling Up on the Italian Pirate"

"Day 2: Gawking at the Pros"

"Day 2: My Worst Beat and then Revenge"

"Day 3: The Aladdin... Bring Your Rod and Reel"

G-Rob's Words

"That's It for the Other One"

"The Bus came by... and I got on"

"Playin' in the Band"

"Going down the road... Feelin' bad"

"Another Damn trip report....I'm almost done...really!"

It actually was the best squeezins I'd ever had. Nonetheless, when I went to clean up the next day, I spied an unfinished shot.

Normally, bugs don't bug me, but this one did. That's because a Carolina mosquito had nose-dived in for a drink, got drunk, and drowned.

Actually, the only reason it bugs me is the shot glass it died in.

Now, if that's not a bad omen, I don't know what is.

When I looked closer, I discovered the bug had a look in his eye like I expect to when I sit down on Friday and Saturday.

Dead buggy money.

Damn it.

Maggie Valley, North Carolina is a firecracker boomtown. Its an old dirtfamer community where the dirt is mostly rock. For more than a hundred years the town slept, insulated in its mountain cocoon, just a half hour from Asheville. I got a story tip from an unlikely source, just before a poker game, during a chat with BadBlood's wife's father, and the story took me here.

We met Popcorn Sutton, I kid you not, at the Misty Mountain Ranch. He's not an ounce over 80 pounds and not an inch over tiny. I saw him jam a smoke into his mouth and light it from the butt of the last. Noticing the label on his cigarette was on the wrong end i warned him it was backwards.

"Son, I don't use no damn muffler on a smoke," he said, "and I can last a lighter 100 years 'cuz I only flick it once a day."

Welcome to Maggie Valley.

Popcorn took us to his high mountain shack, made from lumber and juiced by a car battery, where he made moonshine for the last 4 decades. By all accounts, including his own, Popcorn Sutton is the best whiskey maker alive. His still was mounted on the back of a Model A Ford truck and he gave us the dry run. He's the last of a dying breed. His whiskey was 100 proof but he's everclear.

Now, its very important to note, his moonshine is quite illegal. But nobody here cares. The local sheriff, the local EMS, the LOCALS think he's great. People come from California to meet the man who makes the best "white likker" in the world. At least once a week, the best bluegrass muscians alive visit his 2 room cabin while cloggers pound the porch. Popcorn hasn't got much money, but he lives one hell of a life.

When we came back down the mountian

We left Popcorn and headed into town. Over the past 2 decades the "town" has really changed. There are waves of people, looking to tap into that old fashioned feeling who pulled up stakes in New York and Florida, and made their way into a cool country cabin. They opened souvenier shops along the main drag and new restuarants to serve the tourists, who sleep in well-appointed cabins with gorgeous mountain views. These newcomers are genuine in their love for the old mountain past and they love the legend of Popcorn, but it's fair to say, a lot of the locals, the old old locals, really hate these people.

We wanted to find some of the other "authentic" folks, who could tell us about the real Popcorn Sutton. We found them at the Opry House. Actually, I saw almost every law enforcement officer in the entire county eating at a single diner. That's usually a good sign for good eats. But when I walked around the diner, I saw the Opry House, and poked my head inside.

The music there wouldn't start until at least 8:00, but the musicians were on the front porch. All of them smoked and all of them, evidently, had known each other for years. Most of them had the long shaggy beards just like the one old Popcorn sported and when I aked about the moonshine each one of them had a story. All of them loved that guy, including the girl. The 16 year old girl just sitting in the corner. Her mother came up and whispered in my ear, "ask her about the Popcorn song."

Which I did.

We followed the girl backstage, with her mother and another beraded man in tow. The mother was obviously very proud and the other man sat down on a couch along the far wall. "Would you like a banjo accompany?" he asked.

Of course we did.

So they played a song about Popcorn, she played guitar and sang, he was incredible. The song was amazing, we had them play it 3 times. Turns out the banjo player was hardly 'some guy on the porch', he was 5 time winner of National Banjo Player of the Year. He'll get a lifetime award next week. And, here, he was just one of the guys.

So we walked back out to that smoke filled porch for another talk about moonshine and another lesson about Maggie Valley. All of these folks were native. They remember the town before the outsiders "discovered" it. You'd be amazed by the local bond. All of them knew the tase of moonshine and all of them loved the sound of mountain music. I felt more comfortable listening to these stories than I'd been in months. I felt like I belonged, although clearly I did not. I'm from Eastern Kentucky, but this was my first trip to this town.

The look of some of these folks reminded me of CADDYSHACK.

"I have a pool and a pond. The pond would be good for you."

The feel of these people, the talk at a random happenstance, made me feel as comfortable as I've been in some time. After just a few hours there, they can use the pool, hell, Popcorn has a place to stay at my house if he's ever down this way. I have lots of friends with similar interests, but this random group of seemingly unconnected strangers, quickly felt quite natural.

Wasn't this a poker blog?

It was. It still is.

But truth be told, there are few times in my life where I've felt this comfortable around such a wide variety of perfect strangers, and the last time I felt it was in Vegas last December. With the bloggers of the WPBT.

I came there as a friend of Otis and CJ. I barely knew BadBlood and the rest of you were total strangers. I found so many bloggers drunk and disheveled at the Sherwood Forest bar shrouded by smoke and slurring from commercial 'shine. I felt immediately at home. I now count many of you as true friends.

I met an alcohilic icon, and a few long haired men. I met a young man named "daddy" and a writer called "Doctor". I had so little in common but SO much to talk about.

AND I CAN'T WAIT TO GET BACK...

To friends old and new, and for the friendships I'll soon form..
See you in Vegas this THURSDAY. YeeeHAW.

And stop judging mountianfolk from the stories you've heard and the pictures you've seen. There's something special in Maggie Valley.

While visiting with Lindsay, I got a chance to meet Dan Lee, the CEO of Pinnacle Entertainment. My first question for him, "Why no poker room!?!?!" Apparently, Louisiana has a law about no more than 30,000 square feet of gaming, and Lee had to choose between slots and a poker room. Slots won. What a shame.

Without a poker room, that meant finding the nearest Craps table. I plunked down $200 at the $10 table. 20x the bet is about the minimum I like to start with when playing Craps, but there were no $5 tables at the time. It was a little slow-going because a few of the dealers were learning. I suppose that would have upset me, had I been losing.

I bet wrong, as I always do, and it was up and down. Unfortunately, I missed on four different 4's and 10's, each with 5x odds on the table (you could play up to 100x odds). That meant a swing of $95 for each hit. That's $380 I'd love to have!

Instead, my strategy had me up a little over $100 when it was time to go. It was just two hours of play, but that's all I was looking for last night. On may out, I threw my extra $20 on the table and bet the hardways for the dealers. They hit the hard 4 and the hard 6. Damn, I think I'd perfer that $90 to any karma that might come my way!

I'm not sure how often I'll go back to L'auberge. It is the closest thing to a Vegas-style casino you'll find around Lafayette, but if I'm driving a couple hours to gamble, I need a poker room.

Thursday June 2, Evening:
Defending WPBT Vegas champ Felicia is inviting everyone to join her for sushi and karoake at Yama Sushi. Hopefully I'll be in town early enough to stop by, except I won't eat sushi! Click here for more info, or feel free to contact her.

Friday June 3, Noon:
$1500 NLHE WSOP Event #2, featuring a cavalcade of bloggers. The event will last until there is a final table or until completion of the 12th level (which would come sometime after 1 in the morning). Scott Fischman won $300,000 for first place last year with just 831 entrants.

Friday June 3, about 10pm or later:
Storm the castle!!! Should all bloggers be eliminated early, and I don't expect this to be the case, the bloggers will storm The Excalibur poker room for craziness not seen since Pauly held the Nuts against a guy who just got cold-cocked. The start time of this may vary greatly, but the event is expected to occur.

Saturday June 4, 9:30am:
Registration for the WPBT Aladdin Casino Classic ends. The tourney is scheduled to start at 10am, so please try to be in place as close to 9:30am as possible. Also, please try to be respectful of the poker room. What does that mean? Don't show up drunk off your ass. I don't mean to be harsh, but I've worked really hard on this, and I'd rather not be embarrassed. I'm just asking for a little respect, that's all. I'm not ordering you all to be stone-cold sober on 9 hours sleep... but I think you know what I'm asking. Thanks.

Saturday June 4, 10am:
The second WPBT live event begins with about 80 entries and countless side bets. Blogger pride is on the line. Beware the hammer! The final entry fee will be $65:

$60 gets $1,000 in chips
($8 goes to the house)
$5 add-on gets extra $500
Total $65 buy-in

20 minute blinds:
25/50
50/100
100/200
200/400
300/600
400/800
500/1000

Saturday June 4, 2pm:
Play begins again in the WSOP Event #2. Hopefully a few bloggers will be left, and perhaps even reach the final table! If that's the case, I'll probably race to bust out of the WPBT event so I can go railbird (as if I'll survive long otherwise). In case you're wondering this final table will be televised by ESPN. It will air August 23rd at 8pm.

Saturday June 4, 5pm:
WPBT after-party hosted by AlCantHang at LaSalsa Cantina in the Showcase Mall a block from the Aladdin Casino. There are 345,875 varieties of tequilla there, or so I've heard.

As it turned out, the lawn boy was a buddy of mine. Had it been G-Rob, I might've been a bit worried. As it turned out, it was another buddy who was just killing time while...well, while his boyfriend was busy.

***

I do my best to make sure Mrs. Otis isn't desperate. I make every effort to take care of my marital obligations and such. Still, Mrs. Otis knows about the other women. There's Nicky, Paris, Siegfried, and Roy. Not to mention the Brothers Hooker, the Kings of the Court, and a host of others.

Yeah, Mrs. Otis is one Desperate Poker Housewife.

Sure, she won Pokerati's Poker Wife of the Year and it was much deserved. Still, she's given to moments where my after-work late night poker sessions give her the red ass. And not in the good way.

Normally, as I am a complete ass, I push these thoughts to the back of my mind and concentrate more on whether I should once again try the old limp re-raise with aces under the gun.

But now we're about to try something completely different. We're going to Vegas.

***

There was a time many years ago where Mrs. Otis indulged me in taking a trip that was specifically designed for my interests. We hit Colorado with a rack full of skis and a cabinet full of booze. My college buddies met us there and we geared up for several days of deep powder and deep tumblers.

Oh, yeah. Mrs. Otis had never been on a pair of skis.

Now, I would like to say it ended badly because Mrs. Otis was a real bitch. In fact, she tried really hard but I ended up catching the flu and ruining the trip. She was a real trooper.

But now we're trying something different.

Yeah, we're going to Vegas.

***

Mrs. Otis has never been to Vegas.

***

Those of you have been with me to Vegas know how it goes. Otis says he'll meet you for lunch, but doesn't show up. He thought he'd play an hour-long session before the buffet, but is stuck a couple hundy and vowing to make it back. Catch you at dinner. Dinner rolls around and you find Otis in the same cardroom at a different table. He says he's up a couple hundy and can't leave the game because it's too good. So, you sit down and have a bowl of fake gumbo with him. By ten o'clock Otis has been up and down as much as five hundred and he's started drinking. Then, midnight rolls around and Otis is tipping the dealers ten percent of every pot and screaming for the big TV to bring back the monkey. At 2am you go to bed as Otis promises he'll meet you for breakfast. When you wake up at 10am, Otis is drinking Irish coffee. tipping the dealer 90% of every pot, and screaming for the monkey to get him some damned breakfast.

And that's not to mention the detour to the Pai Gow table while you were sleeping.

***

Mrs. Otis knows how to party. In Aruba she was seen dancing on bars, hanging out of windows, and wearing silly hats.

I think this fact may be my only hope.

Actually, there's another hope. She goes by the name of Mrs. Can't Hang.

***

Yeah, that's the ticket.

***

So, this is how I see this trip playing out. Mrs. Otis, Mrs. Blood, and Mrs. G-Rob are coming in blind with no idea what to expect. I suspect other members of the WPBT Desperate Housewives Club may be in the same boat.

See, Mrs. Can't Hang is a diplomat. I've seen her in action twice. She is the perfect balance of understanding wife and willing accomplice. She's happy to not only be along for the ride but actually participate.

Now, I don't want to out any undue burden on Mrs. CH, but I hope she serves as a shining example of how wives CAN have fun in Vegas.

***

Now, am I actually worried? Well, no. Not really. As I said, Mrs. Otis is a trooper and, when she wants to be, a party girl.

That's one of the reasons I love her, after all.

So, here is an open invitation to buy my wife drinks and tell her that Otis really will join her for breakfast.

As long as she doesn't mind leftover fake gumbo and Irish coffee.

1. Anytime Otis unintentionally hits the floor is a full fall.

2. If Otis falls and catches himself midway this is a stumble, NOT a fall but...

3. If the stumble causes a single knee to hit the floor, this is a HALF-FALL

4. Otis likes to believe that some accidental falls don't count. Do NOT let Otis have this or any other caveat.

5. If Otis tries to sit in a chair and misses, THAT is a fall.

6. If Otis trips over his own feet, THAT is a fall.

7. If Otis is using stairs and misses one, THAT is a fall.

8. A fall is a fall regardless of his alcohol intake.

9. Anyone who witnesses an OTIS fall is required to report it to me. I will track the total number of full and half falls.

10. The gloves are off. If Otis is drinking heavily and starts whining about being "ill-equipped", it is both permissible and encouraged to use incredible peer pressure to force "just on more shot" in order to induce a fall.

11. If Otis falls into someone else and recovers to a stumble but knocks someone else into a full fall, THAT is a full fall for Otis.

12. If Otis falls into an inanimate object (e.g. card table, barstool, AL) and recovers, this is a half fall.

The posted over/under at the BG Sportsbook and Casino is 1.5 falls. I would encourage the OVER.

There is a reason we always play this game.

Falls are funny. Have a nice trip!

Friday June 3, Noon:
$1500 NLHE WSOP Event #2, featuring a cavalcade of bloggers. The event will last until there is a final table or until completion of the 12th level (which would come sometime after 1 in the morning). Scott Fischman won $300,000 for first place last year with just 831 entrants.

Friday June 3, about 10pm or later:
Storm the castle!!! Should all bloggers be eliminated early, and I don't expect this to be the case, the bloggers will storm The Excalibur poker room for craziness not seen since Pauly held the Nuts against a guy who just got cold-cocked. The start time of this may vary greatly, but the event is expected to occur.

Saturday June 4, 9:30am:
Registration for the WPBT Aladdin Casino Classic ends. The tourney is scheduled to start at 10am, so please try to be in place as close to 9:30am as possible. Also, please try to be respectful of the poker room. What does that mean? Don't show up drunk off your ass. I don't mean to be harsh, but I've worked really hard on this, and I'd rather not be embarrassed. I'm just asking for a little respect, that's all. I'm not ordering you all to be stone-cold sober on 9 hours sleep... but I think you know what I'm asking. Thanks.

Saturday June 4, 10am:
The second WPBT live event begins with about 80 entries and countless side bets. Blogger pride is on the line. Beware the hammer! The final entry fee will be $65:

$60 gets $1,000 in chips
($8 goes to the house)
$5 add-on gets extra $500
Total $65 buy-in

20 minute blinds:
25/50
50/100
100/200
200/400
300/600
400/800
500/1000

Saturday June 4, 2pm:
Play begins again in the WSOP Event #2. Hopefully a few bloggers will be left, and perhaps even reach the final table! If that's the case, I'll probably race to bust out of the WPBT event so I can go railbird (as if I'll survive long otherwise). In case you're wondering this final table will be televised by ESPN. It will air August 23rd at 8pm.

Saturday June 4, 5pm:
WPBT after-party hosted by AlCantHang at LaSalsa Cantina in the Showcase Mall a block from the Aladdin Casino. There are 345,875 varieties of tequilla there, or so I've heard.

That's it. Those are the only planned events that I know of. If you've got others, let me know, and I'll add them!

A couple hours before I'd been drinking coffee with one of the marketing gurus. She'd mentioned it might be nice to get me in the commentary booth for a couple of the Costa Rican matches. The thinking wasn't all that wrong. I knew two of the Costa Rican players from previous tournaments and had some good "American" knowledge about their history. I figured it would just be, "So, Otis, tell us about these guys."

That, I thought, I can do.

And yet when the first Costa Rican match started with a player I knew pretty well, they'd not called on me. So be it, I thought. I'm not a TV guy anymore. I'm a web dude.

Austria and Norway were up next. Two stern-faced Mr. Unpronounceables were taking their seats and James, the producer, said, "Okay, you ready to do some commentary?"

Um...sure.

That's how it began. With 30 seconds to live-to-tape air, I sat down in the color commentators seat, arranged some hastily-compiled notes, and wondered what I had just gotten myself into.

Now, if you've never done broadcast work before, the pros will tell you it's a lot like riding a bike. What they won't tell you is that riding a bike on th street is a lot different than riding it down a mountain.

And somehow...I was scared out of my jeans.

Frankly, if the first 30 minutes of the first match never make air, I'll be quite happy. I likely sounded a bit like a kid who has been asked to recite the Declaration of Independence after having studied the preamble to the Constituion for three weeks.

But I got through it. Within a couple of matches, I was insulting my mother-in-law and using self-depricating humor as best I could. And it was, in a word, FUN.

Fortunately, I think, for me, the show will likely never air in the U.S. Last I heard it will be on the new Poker Channel on the Sky network.

The best part of all of it was my co-commentators. One is a radio guy from the UK who is as nice as you could possibly wants. He's not a pro poker player but knnows the game well. The other guy is a pro and a good one. What's more, he'll be playing with us in Event #2 of the WSOP in a couple weeks.

Which brings me to...

Vegas dreams

Yeah, it's started.

My travel and work schedule has kept me a bit to busy to daydream about the adventure we're all about to undertake. Now, I'm starting to think about it a bit more.

I've had no time to work on my tournament game recently. Based on my play a few weeks ago, I don't have very high expectations for Event #2. That, of course, is no way to go into a tournament. Hopefully between now and then my attitude will change.

As anybody who has played for a while can attest, once you play at a certain level/limit for some time, slipping back down in limits becomes easier to handle.

With that in mind, I tried a little experiement recently. I moved up to the $30/$60 game on Party for a few hundred hands. I don't have a big enough sample to form any decent opinion, but suffice it to say Jesse May was right when he said (paraphrasing here, because I'm too lazy to look up the quote) the only difference between $10/$20 and the bigger limits is that the chips are a different color. That is, there are good players and there are bad players. The poker is the same. In my first 200 hands, the deck hit me in the head.

On one particular hand, I found aces in the small blind, raised it up and got two callers. The flop came down AJx. Checked around to me, I bet and both callers came along for the ride. The turn was the case ace giving me quads. Again I bet and this time the big blind raised, the guy in the middle called, and I again raised. Both guys called. The turn was a blank. The pot was already substantial and I thought, "I wonder if I can make more than two big bets here?" Now, the smart money says just bet out again, pull in another $120 and call it a hand. But I wanted more. So, I checked and much to my delight, the big blind fired out a bet, got a call from the guy in LP, and I got my opportunity to raise. Two callers and I made $240 extra instead of $120. The big blind had QJ. I never checked to see what the other guy had. He'd steamed off $1000 in the past few hands and was likely chasing something.

Still, I'm not going to call those tables home. If I had enough time to concentrate on my game, I'd give it a go. But my head is all over the place right now and I don't trust myself not to tilt off a bunch of money.

Regardless, it gave me that ability to play at my normal limits with a little more confidence which I hope carries over to the trip.

So, there. Complete drivel from the guy who is supposed to do more writing than poker talk. Not sure what's wrong with me right now. I need inspiration.

Only way to find that is head back to the land of milk and honey. I left Vegas last December with enough to fill a novella.

I can't imagine this trip will be any less inspirational.

For you first timers...

That is, those of you who missed BLOG-CON 1, be sure to follow the Doctor's orders. Pauly's posted some sage advice on his site and you'd do well to take heed. I hope you're as excited as I am.

First : A recap

When we met in December, I was new to the blogger thing. I was, because I like to think I'm cool, the Dean Moriarty of the Otis post. You would've known about me but not from my own words.

I have to admit, I was more excited about the whole get-drunk-don't-sleep-play-poker-lie-to-tourists-mock-the-locals thing than any blogger camraderie. I knew of Pauly because Otis turned me on to our shared interest for long, hazy road trips. I knew about Al because....everyone does. I knew BadBlood because he's a townie and knew BG because I like good writing. That's it.

So when the jet touched down, and I looked out the left side window (a hint : if you're coming from the East, always sit on the left of a Vegas-bound plane), I was ready to see CJ and Otis and get my poker on.

Otis met me at the Excalibur's front desk and we weaved our way past a future favorite bar, past a future pestilence of an ATM, and into the poker room. He showed me around to the bloggers at play and I admit I was still in the old "yeah hey..what up?" mode. I just wanted to play.

So...2 buy-ins and a wicked tilt later...

I headed to the Sherwood Forest. Newbies, trust me here, you'll come to love this place. It's like a downtown diner on the low-limit floor. It's just a half arc of barstools and a smoke stained woman wearing beer wench rags, and I LOVE it. I was still on tilt but found a few familair faces and ordered a beer. Which I didn't actually pay for.

To my left sat a massive man with a proportionate grin. He was like the John Lee Hooker of the WWF. One burbon. One scotch. One...ok now...who the F drinks SoCo??? I finished my beer and he bought me another. I finished that and, it turns out, SoCo ain't half bad. Big Mike is a genrous man and an old friend of Al Can't Hang. Newbies you won't meet him this time, but someday you should. He's amazing.

I met Daddy (SnailTraxx) at that bar, and Iggy and Pauly and Derek and yada yada..you get the point. It was like I knew them all already. It was 5 AM and it could have been happy hour at cheers. Newbie, I don't know you yet, but there is in this Universe a certain sense of belonging that we all deserve to feel. I think you'll find it this June.

By the time the WPBT thing started

I was under duress. Granted, I think Al was worse, either that or he really is colorblind. (See, that's the kind of inside joke that cracks us Vegas-Vets right the f up) I think I finished 18th or 19th out of 30. Truth is, I was far worse at poker then and I ain't that good now. But out early and still without sleep, I had plenty left to do.

I had drinks with Al and Iggy and Daddy and Al.

I played 5 AM poker with Marty (JMC Automatic). Marty and I also had a bizarre adventure with a Crown Royal addict at the Aladdin who never once looked at his hole cards. That was a treat.

I had a lengthy "sit-in" with Pauly in his spacious suite.

I played poker with half the blogger crew.

I sang the San Diego "SUPER CHARGERS" theme song at the top on my lungs in a crowded Mandaly Bay sportsbook.

Did I mention I had drinks with Al?
Did I mention that Maudie is HOT!!!
Did I mention the 30 minute conversation with 2 really ugly hookers? (Ask me about that one in Vegas)
How 'bout the card room brawl?

So what can you expect?

Cool people.
Prodigious drinking.
Great poker.
Great stories.
Ugly hookers.

What more does a happy soul need?

See you there. 12 damn days!

Now...The quiz!

1. What blogger would you most like to have a drink with?

2. What blogger, besides Al, would you most like to have a drink with?

3. What blogger would you most like to talk poker with?

4. What blogger would you most like to talk to about the written word?

5. What single Vegas-trip event has you the most excited?

6. Will Otis fall down? (This, by the way, is the oldest time honored quiz question)

7. Who would be able to out arm wrestle Bad Blood?

8. Which blogger most resembles Patrick Swazee?

9. Which blogger is the tallest?

10. Which blogger would middle America find the most shocking?

11. How many Taco Bell tacos can you eat?

12. How many can I eat?

THURSDAY JUNE 2nd

10:30 PM Arrive in Las Vegas
10:31 PM Put loose change in airport slots
10:33 PM Explain principle of "EV" to wife
10:35 PM Find Cab to the "Plaza"

10:45 PM Arrive at hotel
10:46 PM Conclude stupid argument with wife about "EV"
10:47 PM Locate AL

11:00 PM - 4:00 AM Free Swim

FRIDAY JUNE 3rd

11:01 AM Locate aspirin
11:02 AM Cuddle with wife
11:03 AM Shower

Noon AM/PM Locate the Rio

12:01 PM - midafternoon Root for bloggers and get wicked drunk

Evening (PM) Lovely dinner with wife
Night (PM) Take picture of wife (and Mrs. Blood) riding coaster at NY NY
Late Night (PM) Get incoherent and play poker at Excalibur

SATURDAY JUNE 4th

WHATEVER TIME I'M SURE SOMEONE WILL TELL ME - Blogger tourney

AFTER THAT - Sheer insanity

SUNDAY JUNE 5th

12:01 PM Argue with housekeeping about checkout time
12:05 PM Find remaining bloggers
12:06 PM Find remaining money
12:07 PM Play actual poker

Midnight Catch f'n REDEYE home

So...who's with me?

It's been an interesting time today with this blog on the road. Just seconds before the second match of the day, PokerStars and the producers of the Poker Channel popped in and asked me to serve as color commentator for a few matches. As a former TV guy who just happens to be really into poker, how could I refuse?

Yep. I've been serving as the VVP of the WCP. Lord help Europe.

I looked for every opportunity to slip in a reference to the Hammer. It never came. The Jackhammer, however, made an appearance and got its due.

Some life I'm leading.

Just for you dear reader,

I've been struggling for metaphors, something to make the literati proud. BG would know how to describe this funk. Nobody makes me laugh at shame like he does. Otis has a fine touch with the shameful shortcomings too, but really, do we want to talk about Otis TOUCHING his "shortcomings"? (So concludes today's unprovoked shot at Otis. The streak continues. He has, for the record, warned me that I'm about 2 shots shy of a retaliatory blast.)

I thought it would be clever to compare my game to Gen. George McClelllan. Yes, I can have be lynched in South Carolina, but what the hell. To Kakalakky credit, he was an historic ass. At the time, say 1861, there was no one anywhere who possesed a sharper sense of the military game. He was the consensus no-brainer for command. But he was also a political aspiriant with no will to play.

So chipped up with a massive stack and a tendancy to catch a lucky draw the brilliant General began 1861 with a massive pre-flop lead. Its also fair to say that few people were SMARTER at post flop play. So let's consider the abstract. McClellan could.

Our friend Doubleas (he's linked on the left) is one of my favorite strategic posters. He's the master of the suspenseful read. And when, in the middle of a post he's set the stage and asked for our help, I'm usually a champ at reading the board. If Doubleas wants to know, "What does my opponent have here?", I most likely, have a very good idea. Strategy I can handle.

But at Bull Run McClellan was weak, his deployment too slow. He waited too long for the perfect hand and by the time he caught the cards, his oppnent was 3 steps ahead. He was smart enough to make the play but lacked any agression. If war was just a game of strategy he would have been great, but its not, and McClellan wasn't. I've got that in common at least. But one thing I don't lack is a sense of aggression.

How 'bout the other side of the coin? And, folks, I swear I'm going somewhere with this. How 'bout someone with no lack of aggression who may have lacked McClellan's superior knowledge? How 'bout Confederate General John Bell Hood? Now there's a real hooter. He came to Altanta (gee, wanna guess how this turns out?) in 1864 after another General had successfully ground Sherman to a halt. Jefferson Davis was a big fan of Hood, he was, in fact known to sing, "we can feel GOOD...GOOD...GOOD about Hood.", which everyone thought was Harry at best.

Within 48 hours of his appointment to the command in Atlanta, Hood took the offensive and went right after Sherman. That was on July 20th. You have to love the aggression. On September 1st, Atlanta was evacuated and Hood was a failure. You don't HAVE to love that.

Fair to say we've met this type a million times. Perhaps half the players on PARTY POKER are related to General Hood. As Iggy (Guiness and Poker...again on the left) would say, if you're not playing against General Hood you're retarded!

I'm guilty of that style. The misapplication of unbridled aggrssion.

I went out 13th in the last blogger satellite. I felt good about the play up to that point. But here that hand that killed ol' G-Hood :

I'm on the button with A-Qo. Folds around to me. I raise 3x.
TheFatSherman (www.thefatguy.com is NOT linked but will be soon) is in the SB.
Now I've stolen blinds a few times and I saw his moderate re-raise as a pure defense. The BB folds.
I come back over the top of Gen. FAT and assume he'll fold. He doesn't. I'm out after losing a race.

At the time, I was roughly T7500 which was in fine shape against the blinds. But I felt some kind of artificial pressure. I saw the rise of the leader's stacks. I could have waited for a better hand but I didn't. I am partially Gen. Hood, but there's much much more.

This next one will seem like good news. I assure you it is not. My biggest weakness is my likeness to General Robert E. Lee, who conveniently we can abbreviate as G-Rob Lee. Let me clear, I'm not a Duke boy, and I'm not a blind loyalist to General Lee. But its fair to say the Southern Commander was a master of both strategy AND aggression. He held a weaker hand against McClellan at Bull Run. Lee sliced him to pieces. But Lee still lost the war.

I had a nice chat with BadBlood (you may have guessed, he's linked on the left) about my play the last few days. It was this play that spawned my precious post. He's been where I am. Granted, he's a FAR superior poker player but he knows my problem from experience. For a very good read on the topic check out his post "What game are you playing?". Very well written and right on target with the whole G-Lee thing.

It seems that once Lee ran up against his nemesis Grant, the strategy didn't matter. Grant was famous for brilliance and aggression, just like Lee, but he had something Lee never did. A massive chip stack, and a million General Hoods. (By the way, since I'm pimping today..check out General Al Can't-Grant on the left. It was rumored that Grant directed the battle of Shiloh in such a drunken state he could hardly stand. The battle still didn't slow the General's advance. If anyone could win a battle and drink 52 shots of SoCo..it was Al...err..Grant)

Near the end of the war Grant was still making all the right moves, the right bluffs, the right retreats, the right aggression at all the right times. But if the enemy is far better supplied and far greater in number great strategy is irrelevant. Imagine you've won pot after pot and only shown down with winners, a universe of a million Hoods (Party) will eventually suck out. If the enemy is oblivious to your bluffs then the bluffs cannot work. If your enemy doesn't know you're representing the flush then you're wasting your time.

(This caveat, Grant did recognize most of these moves but didn't care. He knew he had superior forces..etc..etc. but lets stick to the moral shall we?)

The problem is, even the greatest aggressive strategist cannot win unless his opponent recognizes his strength. Weak-Tight McClellan was almost always ahead but Lee had an advantage there. Loose-Agreesive Grant, with unlimited reinforcements HAD to grind him down.

SO HERE'S THE POINT!

I did promise I'd have a point to all this, and if you've read this far, congratulations.

I know where I'm going wrong. I can make the moves of General Lee and grind down my opponent. I can spend hours building my bankroll and bank what would be a winning session, just like Lee was ahead for more than 2 years. But just when I reach a real breakthough some putz leads Pickett's charge. I have a single moment where making the right moves and grinding out the ABCs of success gets BORING. I make a move when I KNOW I'm behind and then I get crushed. My big outing is crippled.

The Exit in the satellite is a case of just that. It happens far too often. I feel like I've got the upper hand and I'll try to get cute. Then, I wipe out a whole session of winning in a single second of hubris and rage.

For that reason, I can't ever really succeed. I can't ever break through. And, because its foolish to distinguish one lousy player from another, at least in terms of general success, I am THE WORST POSSIBLE POKER PLAYER.

I will always lose the war.

No matter how much strategy I study, no matter how aggressive or tight, I will have that moment of poor timing, poor planning or poor execution that suck the wind out of my war.

I'm not giving up. But I need to circle the troops and learn to play like I know how. I need to figure out how to play smart without SMART becoming DULL. No wonder the call it GRINDING....winning is hard work.

ONE MORE THING

This is an infinitely greater problem online. For some reason, I don't turn into an idiot LIVE. I suspect there are just more Hoods and Grants online.

Oh, one more....one more thing, I truly regret that this post makes it sound like I identify with the "lost cause" of the Confederates. Its for literary purposes. I'm retroactivly pulling for the boys in blue.

THE SINGLE WORST POKER PLAYER...EVER...OF ALL TIME.

Do yourself a favor....pull a Costanza...do the OPPOSITE of what I do and you will bulldoze any game.

I'll post more after the show at 6...but for now..

GAWD!

The night was moist

Probably saturated from too much beer. We'd worked with Francois (now c'mon that name is CLEARLY made up!) for years and we'd known his bride-to-be for just as long. He was one of the best photographers in the business and his lady had the gift of gab. We were all invited to the wedding, a mega-gala type bash. But first, we wanted to show our imaginary-Francophile a very good time.

Most of us met at his house. There was plenty of booze on hand. We sent two of our number to do the dirtiest work. ICEBOX found her in a magazine, like a coochie catelogue of the skankiest sort. The picture showed a busty brunette dressed like a boxer, with gloves and shiny shorts and not much else. We all wanted to go the distance. Let the judges decide.

OLLIE, a reporter on staff, and his friend, a producer, picked the girl up at home. She did not have the fighting spirit. Instead, she had second thoughts. Somehow between the photo shoot and the C.O.D. she grew very nervous. But these men were on a mission. This is, we hope, the only wedding for Francois, so they goaded and begged until she slid into the car. She needed a drink to go foreward and that was easy to find.

Ollie and friend were big fans of the Crankshaft. It's the only bar in town that has any decent live music. They took our stripper there for booze. Apparantly, she's a big fan of booze and, worse still, as Ollie discovered, the people at the Crankshaft were big fans of hers. Like Oillie, she was a regular and our friends were seen with her in public.

From the bar to the bachelor our two escorts flew with the escort herself in tow. They parked on a street right next to the house when, again, she lost her nerve. Producer came inside while Ollie talked her down. P-Slob interrupted once to knock on the car window and ask for rolling papers. The stripper thought that was very sad. At least, that what her reaction said. Call it a read.

Finally, she made it inside and sprinted up the stairs. She was changing into the "boxer" wardrobe. Within minutes, the music played and our bachelor friend took a seat in the middle of the room with all the others seated around him. It was like a campfire sing-a-long with a welterweight whore.

She danced into the room looking less like a boxer than a scavenger of locker room robes. Her white socks were filthy, her shorts were only shiny with dirt. She slithered over and slipped out of her top and straddled poor Francois. Then...

She fell asleep.

Out cold.

I have to admit that does seem odd.

Francois shook her awake and she did with a jump. She slithered around the room until the shorts, mercifully, slid off. She took a seat on the lap of P-Slob and, again, blacked out. When she came to, she started whispering in her victim's very handsome ear, "I hate this. Why don't you just leave me alone... PERVERT!"

Ahem. You're paid by the hour.

She again slithered off. She took a spanking from the most respected TV FACE in all the land. She gyrated and thrust for every well-know on air person within 100 miles and then finally set her sights on Francois.

Again she straddled him and this time she actually moved. It wasn't sexy. It actually made Francois HAPPY about the marriage. But at least he played along.

Then it happened.

She tried, give her credit, to execute an actual stripper move. She wrapped her legs tight around her man. She arched her back. She leaned back until her not-totally-repulsive breasts actually came to life. Then she fell backwards onto her head. It actually rolled up beneath her. I believe there may have been a "pop". And she didn't move. Neither did anyone else. She was apparantly paralyzed and the entire room of well-known faces froze.

From what I hear P-Slob is a very compassionate person. I also hear he was out of the house before anyone else exhaled. There was panic and hysteria as feet shuffled and stomped in a frenzied blaze. The stripper didn't move.

Within minutes almost everyone there was not. The front yard was full of extremely drunk men trying to decide whether a DUI would be better or worse for the ol' career that the reality of this. Then we heard a scream...

"Fuck you men. You're all filthy disgusting PIGS"

And then a door slammed.

Upstairs our putrid pugilist was getting dressed and having second thoughts about her career. She offered Ollie a humming hum hum to compensate for the broken dance. He politely declined.

Moments later she and ICEBOX were headed back home. She made it there OK. So did most of ICEBOX'S credit cards. And the party got very very drunk.

After that night, THE WORST. BACHELOR. PARTY. EVER, we swore to never speak of it again. We all had a lot to lose.

But I offer it here, on UFP, as a signal of unity. We all have better stories to tell. And my C*** is THIS BIG!

Ah, yes, Melrose Gulfman.

The G-man (not to be confused with G-Rob) was one of our running buddies for a long time. He was an eclectic guy who could pound a twelve-pack, officiate the Drunk Olympics, then surprise you by waxing poetic abuot the relative softness and variety of pillows at Bed, Bath, and Beyond.

We had a few songs about the G-man. My favorite was a little blues number titled, "The G-Man is an Ass Man." Which he was. As they say, it's funny because it's true.

Now, Melrose Gulfman.

Back in the day before Gulfman died (he didn't actually die but fell into a very deep pit and got mired in marriage and suburbia, never to be heard from again), he lived in a little middle-rent apartment complex in the middle of town. It was a refuge for the rest of us married types who needed some place where we could go, watch TV, and slip into the single life every once in a while. Occasionally, we'd take the day off work, go to Melrose Gulfman, and just hang out.

We called it Melrose Gulfman because the stories that surrounded his little apartment were better than any primetime soap opera. Our personal favorite were the smoked-up, drunken girls who lived across the breezeway. The cast at the girls' place was always changing, but one of the girls always remained the same. She was the girl who would come over in her Victoria's Secret hip-length nightgown to hang out. She was the girl who would be getting ready go out, come over wearing nothing but a pair of blue jeans (her hands covering the other parts) to see if we liked the way the jeans fit.

Fun times.

So, fun, in fact, it made us all sad the day we realized she was a rabid, yet secret, racist.

We were all chilling, making fun of the G-Man's stolen candy machines, throwing around the stuffed football, and finishing off Gulfman's 12 or 13 beers (he always knew within one the number of beers he had in his fridge). This girl came over, sat down, and started chatting. Then she did it.

She dropped the n-word.

We all sort of looked around like, "Well, what the hell is that all about? Maybe she'll take her pants off."

And then she did it again. The n-word. Not the pants.

The fun drained out of the room. We boys were tolerant types with patience for just about any form of social dysfunction. Racism, however, we didn't tolerate.

We all tried to change the subject, cut her off, get her to just stop talking. No good. She was deep in her own high and was babbling about nothing, but making us all sort of uncomfortable.

It seemed nothing would shut her up. So, I stepped out of my "normally not so profane around women" personality. I looked her straight in the eye, held my hands fairly wide, and said:

"My c*ck is THIS big."

Since that time, that phrase has become the catch-phrase for any time we want someone to shut up or change the subject. I had to break it out again when my half-Jewish buddy and I ended up sitting with a hot aerobics instructor at the G-Spot (not to be confused with G-man, or G-Rob). When the night was over, the girl was forever known as Anti-Semite Sheryl.

What does this have to do with anything? Well, little, really.

Nonetheless, I'd like to offer up a hearty "my c*ck is THIS big" right now.

After all, the WBPT convention begins in 23 days.

I fell asleep thinking about it last night.

See, we lived in a middle class subdivision in a middle class city, in a middle class state in the middle of America. Gary and I had been friends since kindergarten (and remain so today). My dad, a capitalist from a pretty poor family, had had a pretty good year and had a swimming pool put in. Gary and I were walking around it.

It was night time and we'd already had our day of swimming, staring at Jennifer P.'s body, and baking ourselves to relative crisps. Now it was night and we were talking like we always did. Gary was a pragmatist. I was a hopeless idealistic/anarchist wannabe. For more than a hour we walked in circles debating the merits of money. I was on the side of eliminating it completely and reinstituting some sort of barter system. Gary thought I was an idiot. Which I sort of was. Gary was smarter than I was, anyway.

By early college I had ammended my classless society ideas to removing the monetary system, abolishing the time system and banning watches/clocks, and allowing people to work at whatever time of day or night they liked.

I was an idiot in college, too.

With all that said, I guess there is no real reason I should expect you to listen to me now. After all, I haven't picked up any smarts since that time and have spent years dulling my senses with alcohol and sleeplessness.

But, I thought I'd climb out of the woodwork to comment on a recent spate of flaming, ill will, and, pardon me, but silliness.

On money

Everybody blogs for a different reason. Some do it as therapy. Some do it as art. Some do it for ego-aerobics. Some do it to make money.

As far as I'm concerned, I don't think there's anything wrong with any of the above.

Now, a younger, more idealistic Otis might protest, as some of you might. I mean, there is the argument that blogs should be treated as art and nothing but.

But, I disagree. Where blogs were a brave new art form several years ago, now they have--and I think rightly--evolved into potential journalistic, and hence, profitable ventures. Like the gulf between home movies and network television, blogs now have the elasticity to serve both masters, art and profit.

But, you may protest, a blogger who was doing it for the art who goes for the profit is just selling out.

That reminds me of another memorable conversation.

I was in college and Marty was bemoaning the Red Hot Chili Peppers having sold out. Why I felt the need to defend the band (why...I still don't know...suck my kiss, indeed), I did. And we got in the second...no third...biggest argument of our now 13 year friendship. In retrospect, I guess the band did sell out and I was likely only arguing because felt like a poser for not knowing the band very well before they sold out.

Now, perhaps that doesn't have any real bearing here. Other than this: those are things that idealists fight about. Yeah, I'm still sort of sore that Uncle Tupelo broke up and now Wilco seems to have a better following than Son Volt, but I ain't gonna fault the guys who gave me a new reason to love music. The point is, I understand. If I were Jeff and Jay, I wouldn't have wanted to spend the rest of my life playing to drunk college kids at the Blue Note.

The same thing applies to blogs. I mean, can we begrudge Iggy and HDouble for busting their ass to write the Poker Tracker Guide and then using their blogs to pimp it? Can we bust Iggy's balls for giving us huge content and then, for once, asking for just a little help by way of affiliate links? For that matter, should we quit reading any blog that has an affiliate banner on it? And what about Pauly? Because his PokerStars affiliate deal is doing pretty well, should we not enjoy his cross-country antics? And what about the boys at LasVegasVegas? Those guys are running a virtual empire over there and helping fellow bloggers to get published in major venues.

And you know what the major thread running through all of those writers is? They all freakin' rock. They're smart, great poker players, great writers, and individualy have more business sense, ambition, and artistic creativity than a majority of the poker blogosphere (no offense to any of the good poker bloggers out there. I'm just trying to make a point here).

So, with all due respect (because I have respect for anyone who can keep a good blog running for more than a few months), let's wish success on all our fellow bloggers. We all may make missteps along the way. I've had a few myself that I'm none too proud of. We'll all figure it out. As I said to a notable blogger the other night, this little world is just as Darwinian as our everyday lives. I'd rather be on the surviving side.

And let's all keep pumping out the best stuff we can, becaue there is still an idealistic part of me that believes we've all stumbled on one of the greatest art venues out there.

Now, the thieves

With all of that said, theiving is just wrong. I know it's wrong because I've been a perpetrator. Recently, and quite unintentionally, I thieved something from some hardworking folks. When these folks pointed out my oversight, I nearly crashed my computer typing so fast in an attempt to make good. Because these folks are good folks, they understood my mistake and let me off the hook.

That was a mistake. What the banner farming, RSS-ripping yahoos are doing is not a mistake. It is thievery. Now, I don't mind so much if I'm ripped off. Most of what I write isn't going to make anybody any money anyway. Nevertheless, the ugly profit-motive behind it makes my spleen twitch (I would've said liver, but he and I aren't on speaking terms anymore and I don't know if he's twitching or not).

But, wait, Otis! You're contradicting yourself. I mean, how can you support the money-making bloggers but flame the banner farmers?

Well, I don't think I really need to explain this, but I will in case some Dakotan comes a calling.

There's a difference between making money off other people's art/thoughts and making money off your own art/thoughts. It's as simple as that. If you need further explanation, try this:

Every day, 24 hours a day, TV networks broadcast the result of their hard work and millions spent. It's out there for everybody to see and ingest. To watch it is not a crime. However, to copy it, start your own channel, then sell advertising using somebody else's content is wrong. It also happens to be a crime.

Now, in this wild, wild world, there is little anybody can do about it. However, there is a bit of karma to think about. That and the fact that you live in a Darwinian world. As far as I know, Darwinian theory still applies in South Dakota.

***

So, I typed all of this up and almost erased it. Frankly, I don't like to inject msyelf into controversies that aren't my own. At the same time, I look to the left and see the blogroll and realize that I would be pretty sad if ay of those blogs started drying up or started battling each other over petty stuff. I've met and planned to meet some damned good people who write those things. While never much one on long distance friendships, I actually consider a lot of you friends and I want to make more.

So...let's do this: Let's play poker like we know how (actually, I have noo idea how to play the game anymore). Let's keep writing about it. Let's go to Vegas and turn it upside down. There we can perfect our various arts and make some money in the process.

THE ULTIMATE QUESTION

Not to go all Douglas Adams on you here, but we should start with the question first. When I was a college sophomore I changed my major to Philosophy. I figured there was no better way to earn a college degree while freeing up as many as 23 1/2 hours a day for non-school diversions. I remember sitting in the very first class, the introduction to Classical Philosophy with my buddy Clancy. Our question : "What are the damn questions?"

Anyhoo

We can debate till Otis grows hair about which poker site is the best place to play. Most blogs have a favorite. Many of them reinforce the belief with a bit of affiliate whoring. (I refuse to believe that this influences their feelings) Turth is : there are a lot of very decent sites where you can and will win money with little or no aggrevation. Truth is : once we've discovered the dozens of sites that are all acceptably good the next decision..which is best...is just plain aesthetic preference right?

So perhaps the better question is : "Which site is worst?"

Friends, I know the answer. It ain't pretty.

Now there are those of you who will yell Pacific. The software IS lousy.
There are some who will say Poker Stars. You know this isn't true but you say it because it makes Otis mad. Because mad-Otis IS funny, I give partial credit for this answer. I've played on sites where the money is slow and difficult to retrieve. I've played on sites where the players are so bad, slot macheines would be more strategic. BUT ONLY ONE SITE CAN REALLY BE THE WORST!

It actually pains me a bit to say it. Many of you show up at a home game with THIER card protector. They showed up at the last blogger convo in Vegas. They seemed so DAMN polite. But, folks, its all a sham because

CHECK N RAISE POKER IS THE WORST SITE ON THE INTERNET!!!

I hate it. I won't be back. Lets not go endlessly on about the buggy software. Its all browser based so there is nothing to download. That's a plus in my book. But the software collapses in nearly every ring game. Almost daily I, or an opponent at my table, will see all buttons "dissappear" in the middle of a hand. That means with money on the table post-flop time runs out without the option of checking betting or folding. The software folds you automatically. I've lost money that way. The site host says "They're working on it." They've been working on it for months. It ain't fixed.

And that's if you find a game. You almost certainly WILL NOT. At any given time there are, at most, about a dozen players there. They're all playing nickel and dime NL. On some nights they do get 5 or 6 players together for a 2/4 limit game, but its hardly worth a deposit for the 6 day waiting period there. They do offer sit-n-go tourneys but there's never enough players. They do offer scheduled tourneys but they have a minimum of 9 players and they never get that many. But look at it this way...play NL there for a day or 2 and your could win a phone call and a nice cup of coffee.

AND HERE'S THE PART THE REAAAAALY PISSED ME OFF!

The other stuff is really typical of a struggling site. I'm sure they'd LIKE to have more players. That isn't their fault. But they DO have control over their online behavior and for THIS there is no excuse.

You may have seen my post below. Its a link to a story I did on BadBlood and online poker. It's from the company website with a text version of the story attached.

Well. Our friends at THE WORST SITE ON THE INTERNET stole that text story comlete with actual BADBLOOD quotes..actually attributed to him...and posted it on their site as "Poker News". They didn't like to my station. They didn't credit my station. Instead the posted this byline : "By : STAFF".

That's right a-holes....MY STAFF! Not your's.

I wrote an e-mail on the feedback page and very politely asked them to either remove the article or give it a proper credit. They ignored my request. Two days later I sent a second e-mail, again with a polite tone, but with somewhat more direct language. This was also ignored. Now, frankly, I was more upset about them ignoring my e-mails that I was about the damn story.

Today I used the "Page Host" function from a table to try and get a response. I was told there was nothing he could do. Folks, stealing copy from a TV station without credit is AGAINST THE LAW! But, I digress.

Here's the damn bottom line ( I curse here to indicate my growing furor even as I type ) :

Don't EVER deposit money at CHECK N RAISE poker. You will lose it the moment the site collapses. The site will collapse because with the current structure and poplarity of the site they can't possibly be making money.

Also, they are bastards. That counts for something.

After quite a few disappointments, particularly during the WPBT events [ED NOTE: Pauly sucked out on my brother when his Presto beat Lefty's pocket Tens.], I decided to "hang'em up" for a bit.

As a regular reader of this blog, I've enjoyed reading the success stories of my fellow bloggers [ED NOTE: He must be writing about Otis and GRob.], but deep down inside (and I'm not afraid to admit it) I resented it.

I asked the age old question, "Why not me?".

Okay, hold on... I don't want to get ahead of myself. So as not to wrongly encourage anyone to quickly scroll down through the backstory to see the end result of my late night tourney, I will tell you now, the end result is far from as grand as some of the current post's outcomes.

Last nght, I got my first glimpse of the answer to that very question.

It started at about 12am when I was looking to get my the-night-before-my-day-off poker fix. I checked Poker Stars and couldn't find a freeroll (yep... that's what I've been reduced to...) but came up empty. On a whim, I checked over at UB, only to find a mysterious $15 in my account.

MY EYES LIT UP!

I quickly immersed myself into a $5, 6 person SNG. I cut down 2 of my opponents in the first 20 minutes with rockets and cowboys... I could already see this would be a good night. It only took 34 minutes to reach heads up. I battled back and forth for the next 20 minutes as my opponent and I unwillingly handed each other the chip lead flop after flop. The end came when I went all in with J/9 suited and he called with A/8 suited. The flop opened a straight draw and I filled it on the river.... TAKEDOWN. 27 bucks into my account.

Following my predictable pattern of poker self-destruction, I quickly looked for another way to lose that money back. There was a $5, $1k guarantee tourney filling up, so I registered.

I hung around, mostly playing Yahoo Canasta (too bad I can't win money on that!), waiting for the start... finally, it came.

The first few hours are pretty much a blur. I played fairly tight, chasing only a few of my standard chase hands: The Hammer, of course, Smokey and the Bandit (10/4 suited), and Dolly Parton (9/5 suited).

*Please don't ask me why...*

What I do remember, is knocking out the 21st player, thrusting all of us remaining into the money.

A few uneventful hands transpired, until my A/J suited both paired on the flop, resulting in the removal of the 11th place player, sending my fellow tablemates to the FINAL TABLE.

At this point, I felt invincible. I was catching the cards, getting the great starting hands, muscling the fish out [ED NOTE: Lefty has been known to be a little fishy himself]. A few close hands were solidified by 5th street, until there were only 2. I had an 80k chip lead and the confidence I only felt sitting at a table where I could stare into my opponents eyes.

It came down to one hand. We working our way back to about even... here it is...

My hand: 10/J suited
His hand: A/9 suited

Flop: 10d/Qc/4s

4th Street: 10s

River: Kh

Trip 10's takes him down... my payout: $270. Not too shabby.

Needless to say, I've rediscovered the itch. So if anyone's looking for me, I'll be on UB, trying to give it back [ED NOTE: I would encourage everyone to reload in UB and look for Lefty! Oh, and congrats, my brother!!]

As of right now, there are only a few must-do items for the upcoming WPBT convention in Vegas.

On Friday, I know Bracelet Bob, R. Fox, and whoever else ends up playing wouldn't mind the occasional railbird during Event #2 of the WSOP.

On Saturday at 10am, the CJ-organized WBPT Aladdin Classic is filling up.

Following that tournament, the WPBT Minister of Debauchery (aka Minister of Intoxication--I can't decide which I prefer) is working to organize an after-party for all of us. I don't think the deal is done yet, but I'm hearing tales of 100 different tequilas.

Those are the only must-dos.

I suggest one more.

See, last December, the bloggers took up residence in the low-rent district at the Excalibur poker room. We played some low-stakes, drank it up, cheered for a dog-riding monkey, and got an Albanian dude to do Teddy KGB impersonations. Pauly was stuck in the middle of a poker room brawl. Marty check-raised a guy on three consecutive streets, only making the best hand on the river. At one point the ceiling opened up and water poured onto a table. Felicia organized an O8 game that ended up as an tutoring session for the dealers. I ate gumbo that wasn't gumbo. Some unsuspecting woman drank Al's soco shot.

In short, it was good times all around.

Last night, during an extended chat session that accompanied thet WPBT WSOP Satellite, I posed the question. And I'll pose it again here, opening up the comments section for Vegas-bound bloggers to determine whether we'll do it.

Here it is...

At a pre-determined time, the WPBT Storms the Castle. As of right now, based on the timing of everything, I'm suggesting 10pm on Friday night. If for some reason one of our bloggers is still in the WSOP, railbirds can come following the event.

But imagine the Excalibur poker room, purring along with it's regular Friday night crowd, all of a sudden stormed by 60+ poker bloggers looking for some low-limit action.

It would be, in short, a hoot.

Thoughts?