Here's more on Barack from the NEW YORKER :

"Obama's analytical mind helped him excel at draw, stud, and hold 'em, and also at the sillier, more luck-based variants of the game that other players chose, such as baseball. Yet, even with the beer drinking and cigarette smoking, there were unspoken rules of conduct. When a married lobbyist arrived at a Springfield game with a person described as "an inebriated woman companion who did not acquit herself in a particularly wholesome fashion," Obama made a face indicating that he wasn't pleased. Link says that the lobbyist and his date were "quickly whisked out of the place."

Obama never played for high stakes. Only on a very bad night could a player drop two hundred dollars in these games, typical wins and losses being closer to twenty-five bucks. Link describes Obama as a "calculating" cardplayer, avoiding long-shot draws and patiently waiting for strong starting hands. "When Barack stayed in, you pretty much figured he's got a good hand," former Senator Larry Walsh once told a reporter, neglecting to note that maintaining that sort of rock-solid image made it easier for Obama to bluff."

There's something to be said for being us. That is, there is something to be said for constant table chatter in the pit. It's, for better or worse, a distracting sideshow of blue conversation, massive money swings, and wild screaming. It's obnoxious, but by the point we get there, we simply don't care.

It paid off this time, though, in the form of dealers who just blindly ignored our losing hands and paid us off. Pai Gow push? Pay the men. Absolute losers in Texas Hold'em Bonus? Ship it. G-Rob and I alone probably swung $1,000 together on bets we should've lost but got paid on anyway. Who said the economy is tanking?

It's hard to be an honest man in Vegas. I had to catch myself from pointing out my losing hands. To fight the inherent honesty, I just looked at G-Rob. He's experienced in this sort of deception. One smirk from him was all I needed.

The dealers may be friendly, but the pit boss is always watching. When Blood went on his massive run at the Palms, he once won a huge hand, gestured like he would soon own the casino, and screamed out, "Call the Maloof Brothers!"

The pit boss, a dead ringer for Lorne Michaels, just deadpanned, "We'll be fine." Damned cooler. Within half hour of his arrival, Blood realized his run was over and stacked up.

Speaking of coolers, one night at Green Valley Ranch, I went on a tear at Three-Card Poker, a game I'd never played before. I hit a big bet with trip queens. Again, it set us on a run toward obnoxiousness that had our dealer flustered, paying off losers, and generally fucking up at every turn.

"You okay?" we asked.

"No," she said. "A friend of mine found her son dead this week."

I'm pretty sure they don't teach that kind of conversation in dealer school.

The pit boss noticed the dealer was in no shape for us. She brought in the cooler of coolers and we bolted. Thank goodness for every other table game in that joint.

See, I said I'm here to work and not play. And that's true. In past years, I've probably spent four or five nights out of every seven playing something...poker, Pai Gow, blackjack, something. It's what Wil and Ryan described in 2006 as "a regretful evening."

This time, there has been very little of any of that. But, I've been fortunate in what I have played. In just a few hours of playing, I'm up about $3,500 playing poker and $1,200 playing table games. For me, that's pretty damned good, which is why I'm probably done for the trip. It can't go anywhere but down from here.

How well am I running? Well, I turned psychic.

Late night at GVR, I got suckered into a poker game. Somebody started prop betting on the Amy the Dealer's age. I set the line at 29, because I absolutely rule at setting lines on things that don't matter. I wish I'd taken big wagers, because I would've got it all. Who needs the over or under when you nail the line like that?

I wasn't done, however. People then started guessing the girl's middle name. Most people guessed Marie. I shook my head, tilted it for a second, and said, "No, she looks more like an Amy Katherine."

I wish I had a picture of that girl's face as a reminder of the night I was psychic.

She accused me of being a stalker.

Finally, while Blood and G-Rob were tilting an entire poker room, CJ offered to show me his Roulette and Craps systems. I've played both games before but never with any success. My favorite moment out of that hour was me stacking piles of chips and questioning how in the world I could possibly be winning and how CJ could possibly be this smart.

The croupier just looked up and said with a straight face, "He's telling you right."

Thanks, ma'am.

The Arrival

Lucky in life, unlucky in flights.

I think that's probably the slogan I live by. My problems on planes have been long discussed. This time, my flight to connect in Charlotte was diverted to Greensboro because we were running out of fuel as we waited for a storm to clear. After an hour on the ground, we were finally headed back to Charlotte and eventually to Vegas. I lost at least a couple of hours of gambling time... maybe that's a good thing.

I stepped off the plane a tired man. It only took one breath of the energy-infused Vegas air to change that. Or maybe it was the sound of the Wheel of Fortune slot machine which triggered my brain to boost my adrenaline.

Coming down the escalator, I saw three massive billboards side-by-side: Bette Middler, Elton John and Cher. I was 12% more gay by the time I got to the bottom. I stopped and stared at the sign for Bite just to return to normal.

The Visit

It's a blur, but isn't every visit it to Vegas? I was there for about 66 hours. I spent about 20 hours sleeping. But those are just numbers. Numbers like this:

The house edge on the first game I played in Vegas, Texas Hold 'Em Bonus: 2.037%

That's not so bad, especially since the bets go up during each hand which brings down the element of risk to just 0.5335%. Of course, we're degenerates. We needed action. That meant shelling out even more for the BONUS bet. The house edge on that bet is 8.5405%. That's a bad bet.

I lost money. Bad Blood cashed out ahead by more than $3000.

Or this:

Odds my flopped two pair with K5 would double up against the jackass who called me with top pair: 83%

The 5 on the turn sealed it and the table ATM pushed nearly $700 my way. Before the end of the night, he would double up Bad Blood and he would get in a three-way all-in with Otis with the sickest river card I saw all trip. I'll let him tell you that story. In just 2 1/2 hours, the three of us took almost five grand off that table. Blind monkeys were crushing that game. G-Rob dropped $1500.

Or this:

Number of times my set lost to a lower pair that became quads: 2

Telling bad beat stories is no fun. And no one wants to hear them anyway. Thankfully, the first time it happened it was a $4/$8 limit game and the second time was the $340 nightly tournament at the Rio while I was already short-stacked. Losing to quads in a NL game would be much more costly.

The Departure

All trips to Vegas come to an end, and most of them at least a day after they should. Sin City has a way of getting your heart pumping at the beginning just so it can suck the life out of you by the end. These casinos don't just take your money, they trade on your soul. You rarely feel the same at the end as you did at the beginning.

And yet I can't wait to get back. I love it there... even when I'm hating it.

ENVY

I got up at 3AM EDT here in G-Vegas on Thursday morning. I did 2 hours of TV and a few hours of unusually uninteresting work before leaving for my flight. It is a 2 hour drive to Atlanta. It was a 4.5 hour flight to Las Vegas, landing at 4:15PM PDT.

That's a good long day.

I stopped at the Rio. I met Otis. I met Badblood and Pauly, just back from a trip to the strippers. I met Change100. She's looking good.

By 6PM PDT, Badblood and I were playing poker at the MGM. As always, the players were lousy. Granted, we were playing $1/$2NL, which is always a soft game, but the players at MGM are almost always especially dumb. I won a couple hundred. Blood lost $500.

Blood was having a difficult day.

Otis called and we went back to the Palms. Otis brought my bag which I left with him after the flight. We sat down at Pai Gow.

I got crushed. Blood did too. Otis was injured but not crushed.

In fact, Blood was so badly tilted after several buyins at Pai Gow, he left to play and lose at roulette insead.

He accomplished both goals.

Then he came and lost more money at Pai Gow.

I was getting killed but Blood was getting angry. He was about to get a lot angrier still. We went to the silliest game on the casino floor... Super Texas Holdem Bonus!

Here's another game with a "bonus" round.

Badblood buys in for a few hundred... loses... and gets so angry he's stopped talking to anyone.

I've developed a great deal of concern for my friend at this point.

He buys in again... and loses again. Now I'm worried.

He buys in again... and now... I'm not worried... I'm flat out jealous.

Within 2 hours of his last $300 buyin, Badblood has a stack of $4000. He's playing any two cards blind for $200 each. He wins every time.

Our dealer, a Romanian woman, is so amazed she refuses to leave when her shift is over... brushing her replacement away.

Badblood stands, pounds the table, yells, "I'm pushing the button! I can NOT lose! I drink your milkshake!"

And he wins again.

Badblood gets moodier and angrier as he wins.

"Everyone is against me!," he screams, "and I will drink EVERYONE'S milkshake!"

He can not be stopped.

Once he cashes out, up at least $2500 for the -EV night, Otis and I decide to stop playing and losing by playing the to the best of our ability. Now we're playing blind $200 hands as well.

And we start winning too.

Before long Otis and I have recouped our losses.

It's now 6AMPDT. I haven't eaten or slept since getting up for work 30 hours earlier. There is only one thing to do. $2/$5NL poker at the Palms.

That was a big mistake for me. It was a continued heater for Blood and Otis.

Blood wins another $1K. Otis wins big too, bluffing me off a big hand. I'm not not only envious of my closest friends in the world. I actually hate them a little.

I cashed out and went to bed at 8AM PDT. They kept playing. The donkeys at the NL game are just handing out money. Handing it to everyone but me.

When I flopped 2 pair with A3o, I bet $300 into a $250 pot. The foreign guy with an untraceable accent called. On the turn the board read, A349. I pushed an he called. He shows 25o. I am stacked.

My money and the rest of his would be divided among my friends.

C'est la vegas.

LAS VEGAS IS A STRIP MALL

There was a time, before every town had an Interstate off-ramp, when naming a city said as much about a different culture within as its location on the globe.

Now everywhere is a clone.

In G-Vegas, the big strip, Treebark Road, has all the big chains. It has a P.F. Chang's and a Carrabas. It has a Home Depot and a Wal-Mart. It is 5 lanes wide and could, except for a different, essentially randomized, distribution be any street anywhere in America.

Las Vegas is no different.

There are 10 different shows all branded by the same sterile Comedy Central comics. Ten more headlined by your local adult contemporary FM. Even the "hip and trendy" joints are sterilized copies of something corporate and stale. Wolfgang Puck has a half-dozen restaurants, many of them in the half-dozen Harrah's brand casinos.

Those casinos all have the same number of "Wheel of Fortune" slot machines, just in case you're jonesing for the 7PM slot on your local TV dial.

On Sunday, before heading to the airport, BadBlood and I ate breakfast at McDonalds. That was after we stopped to buy his wife a C.S.I. Las Vegas T-Shirt that was on sale in a dozen different stores. The stores themselves no different than the garbage stores that line the streets in Myrtle Beach, New York City, and San Francisco.

Even the people look the same. Las Vegas hipsters have a uniform. White, pin-striped, button down shirt... blue jeans... square toed shoes. Everyone in Las Vegas dresses like Otis at a karaoke bar.

Las Vegas has a four-story M&M store.

Las Vegas is hot asphalt and second-rate chains.

LAS VEGAS IS A NOVELTY ACT

The casinos themselves are a knowing act of self-parody. The goofy dark ages castle at "Excalibur" is a silly mash-up of Arthurian legend, fairy tales, and neon. Across the street at "New York, New York" there is a Manhattan skyline with a tribute outside to the victims of 9/11.

"New York, New York" is exactly what people from Des Moines think Manhattan is like.

On Friday night, our party had a meta-Vegas experience. We saw a parody lounge act at the "Green Valley Ranch". I will say the "Steel Panther" show was one of the highlights of our trip.

"Panther" is a mocking and somewhat condescending tribute to '80s hair band rock so convincing that only people who actually do love the music could pull it off. They did. Down to the matching leopard skin tights.

Otis, BadBlood, and I found a spot in the front of the stage and showed devil dorns to Bon Jovi, Poison, and the original tune "Asian Hooker." Luckbox hung out near the back because parody rock "isn't his thing."

Professional Poker Player, and one of the few genuine people in Vegas, Brandon Schaefer offered to buy our drinks. We accepted.

During one of the many pauses in the music for wacky and hilarious banter (sample: "Hey dude! Check out the boobies on that girl!") the singer and lead guitar turned their focus to me.

"Hey! Look at that tall guy in the Target outfit!"

"Dude, did you just get off work at Target?"

"You look like you just got dressed after a half-off sale at Sears." [Luckbox edit: I believe the line was, "You look like what happens when a Sears explodes."]

Noticing Otis beside me, they continued:

"And look, his gay boyfriend is here too!"

Good Times.

Again, parody of imitation is actually entertaining. I loved the show.

LAS VEGAS IS A FAT SUBURBAN MAN

My concert appearance did stand out. I dressed the way I dress. Everyone else was looking far more hip, including my new gay boyfriend.

At the Palms Casino, home of the best looking women on the planet, I stood out even more. I wouldn't have looked more out of place as a background dancer in a 50-cent video.

But everyone there WAS like me.

Vacationers in Vegas are trying hard for something that isn't there. Unlike a vacation at the beach, where no matter how much you over-estimate the adventure to come there is actuallly an ocean, Vegas promises something that was never possible at all.

After two days of partying like a 21-year-old kid with a fat wallet and no goals, I spent Sunday sober and sore. I played blackjack late that night with Badblood and Luckbox and watched those that played along.

First, silent rich guy and obnoxious large-breasted hooker.

Second, two twenty something drunk girls doing their best to look carefree.

The hooker seemed more honest. Everyone knew who she was.

The falsity of everything in Vegas leads its visitors to believe that they are characters in the big play. They act the role they felt determined to re-enact long before they arrived.

It sinks in soon that only their dreams are well-cast.

They, themselves, are as young again as the Rio is like Brazil.

It always takes at least two days. The dream dies. We are left without it. Inside the hole where our dreams had been, there is only another hole. It won't help to double down.

Of course,

I had a blast.

I parachuted into the World Series of Poker yesterday afternoon, a late-comer to the non-stop action. I felt mildly guity at first. Most of my colleagues have been working here for the better part of the past month while I got fat in my chair at home. The 1,000-yard stares are omnipresent and most people have already become alcoholics, gone through the 12 Steps, and then fallen off the wagon again. Me? I'm fresh and not yet red-eyed.

The early reports from the long-haulers were basically true. Things are, in fact, better here. The operation is running smoothly, the Poker Kitchen is somewhat better, and the players aren't grousing as much as they usually do.

Last night, I dreamed Doyle Brunson died. For reasons I can't quite explain, it had a visceral reaction upon my waking, nearly so much that I was a little surprised to see Texas Dolly walk in the room this afternoon. I'm sitting above Todd Brunson right now, and I can't help but feel sorry for him. Not because he's worked for years to get out of his dad's shadow, but because I still sort of feel like his dad actually died last night. Don't ask, because I don't know what that mean either.

No matter what you might have read about poker's wane, there is little strong indication of it here. During breaks, the players rush into the VIP lounge to dodge the crowds of lookie-loos and fans. When the pros emerge, it's to amatuer paparazzi. Phil Hellmuth is having a bad night, but his fan's won't let him wallow it in.

"The cards will turn, Phil!" one fan shouts down the hallway, completely serious and heartfelt. "The cards will turn!"

Perhaps even more disturbing than the fact that people have sympathy for the Poker Brat or that I honestly feel like I'm watching Brunson's ghost play cards is Mike Matsow's shinkage. The son of a bitch weighs less than I do right now. What's more he's won a bracelet this year and is all smiles at Table #11. The day Matusow maintains better physical and mental health than me (I'm sure he didn't dream about Brunson's wake) is the day I really need to start re-evaluating things.

It's an easy world to get badly bent. John Gale, the chain-smoking gentleman from across the pond, is no longer walking with swagger. He's being pushed in a wheelchair. Four discs in his spine went to hell last month. He's still here, but hasn't found the strength to play an event. I understand the draw of the World Series. I missed the first three weeks and regretted it for most of the time. Now that I'm here, I'm not sure what I was thinking.

I'm not sure at what point, "Oooooooh, Las Vegas!" became "Eeeewwwwww, Las Vegas!" I think it would be different if my decisions had been different. As I said last night, sometimes I feel like poker's fluffer. If you don't know what that means, don't worry. I barely do myself.

Regardless, at present, I'm sitting beside Pauly in media row and enjoying the proxemity. The $50,000 HORSE event is nearing the end of Day 1, the beginning of five days of, if not entirely interesting, rather important coverage. Badblood has arrived in town and is building a stack in the cash games across the room.

The World Series is better this year. It's my personal challenge to make sure I am, too. We'll evaluate that in about three weeks.

My long week actually started last night, at the company softball game. I would imagine Otis and GRob might be able to talk about my softball prowess, or lack thereof. I think I'm pretty solid. I've got an above average glove that can play just about anywhere in the field. My bat is below average, but I'm adept at going the opposite way, and that at least gets me on base.

That's not to say I haven't had my "Not Top Plays" moments. I broke my toe at a company game in G-Vegas when a sinking line drive dipped under my glove and hit my foot. (I did manage to finish the game.) A few years later, at a company game in Knox-Vegas, the first baseman short-armed my throw from short and I nailed a woman in the side of the head. She quit the league.

Our current league attempts to even the gender playing field by forcing the guys to bat with their opposite hand. I'm not exactly the best hitter anyway, so this didn't help. My strategy is to hammer the ball into the ground and get it rolling towards third. I can usually beat the throw. Yeah, it's that bad. The good news is that Lady Luck swings a hot bat. She's clearly the best hitting woman, and one of the best hitters, on the team. It wasn't enough, however, to get us the win last night.

I got home by 10:30pm, was in bed a little before midnight, and was awakened by a call from work at about 2am telling me 11 people had been shot. I didn't think I heard it right. Thankfully, that number was high, but it was a rather tragic day nonetheless.

I'll be very happy when I've put E-Vegas behind me for a few days. It's been a long time since I've been to Sin City. Otis and Bad Blood are already there. G-Rob gets in a few hours before me. Then we're all back in Vegas yet again. I have plans... I'm just not sure what they are yet. If you're fortunate enough to join us, you can be part of the them. See you there!

1. An Unfortunate Table

Dealer/1s: Broccoli
2s: Wes Nile Virus
3s: Falstaff
4s: TeamScottSmith
5s: The Anti-Christ
6s: BadBlood
7s: G-Rob
8s: Gucci Rick
9s: Drizz
10s: Otis

Table selection is an art AND a science. I knew this one was trouble. At least half this table is better than me. Almost all of the other half is smarter than me. Of course, the anti-Christ has unholy power.

Many people are under the impression that Barack Obama is the anti-Christ. He is not. The Anti-Christ plays poker in Badblood's kitchen.

2. I'm Hammered

Not hammered in the funny, HA HA, you played 27o by raising big and took down a hand preflop way. I mean we went out drinking way early and never let up. I mean I met Otis at the bar several hours before the game. I mean that despite the rather embarrasing tolerance to vodka I've developed, I was starting to slur my words.

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, I stayed more sober that Badblood.

3. I'm not playing my best game(s)

I didn't play well in any of the games. But I'm especially off my axis when we switch to poker games that are not a personal strength.

At this game we played one round of $1/$2 NLHE, one round of $1/$2 PLO8, and one round of $1/$2 PLO.

Omaha is no friend of mine. I worked in Nebraska for a bit and have few fond memories of a state where the biggest tree is a fence post.

And while I'm no Omaha player, others at this difficult table were. Badblood is solid at the game. Otis can play. And Drizz actually PREFERS the stupid post-flop drawing game.

Silliness I say.

I'd rather play razz.

4. I got unlucky

When I flopped a straight and top two in Omaha, Drizz flopped a straight and a flush draw. I lost a big pot.

When I sensed weakness in another player after we both missed a fairly large flop, I pushed $250 into a $200 pot.

That weak player called with only a gutshot draw. And hit.

5. The Prop bets

When we play at Badblood's house, we put his TV on the digital music channel called "Classic Rock" and gamble on it.

Each player picks a band and a song. If your band hits, all the players ship $5.
The song pays $10.

I hit the Rolling Stones twice and something else, the Beatles I think, once.

I promptly put all that money in play and lost it.

6. I got tilty

In particular, that last hand put me out of sorts. I bought in one more time after it and missed a big PLO8 draw in a 3-way pot.

Stacked again, I packed up my remaining Benjamins and went home at 1AM.

I hate leaving early, but if I'm going to fail THAT badly at table and game selection at least I wanted to make one good decision and hit the door when I knew I was too tilty to play.

I could already feel the desire to push on any draw and try to win it all back. Usually, that's a formula for losing whatever you have in your pocket.

In a sense, walking away was the only +EV play I made all night.

7. The Bottom Line

I lost a whole bunch of money.

This farewell e-mail from Drizz probably sums it up best:

Just wanted to say thanks for the gracious southern hospitality you showed me on Friday.

Wes - the BBQ, tour around Columbia, and driving skillz made my vacation, and desperately looking some similar BBQ up here even if its in a bottle

BB - The host. For the booze, the smoothly run game, and ability to get everyone together I thank you sir

Otis - For drinks at On the Border and a lesson on 3-betting my pansy ass

G-Rob - For paying for my Vegas trip in December with your awesome PLO skillz! Thanks man! I kid. I kid.

Shep and Scott - For completing the last check on my SC trip, hitting up a Waffle House to soak up some of those Captain and Cokes. Did anyone manage to get the waitress' name?

I received a dubious reprieve this year. Questions were hashed and rehashed, decisions were made and remade, and when it all came out of the oven, I was "granted" a four-week leave from covering the World Series of Poker. This life change caused no small amount of consternation for this humble writer. More than half of my pscyhe was comforted by the change. It meant four more weekends to take my family on weekend day trips. It meant I got to watch my boy really swim for the first time. It meant I got to enjoy all of those comforts of home, carnal and otherwise, that I just don't get in Las Vegas.

It also meant that I was forced to do the one thing I hate about any form of writing. I had to watch from the bench for four weeks while Pauly churned out his best content in years, Gene took over my Video Poker quads dominance, and the rest of the elite blogging team in Vegas tore up what is reported to be the best-run Series since it moved to the Rio. I hate being relegated to anything, even if it means I'm relatively more sane for it.

My month-long pass is about to expire. This time next week, I will be up to my uvula in work and grousing like I have for the past several years. The shortened time-frame and additional responsibilities are sure to keep me out of too much trouble, and for that I'm actually thankful. Still, Vegas is a tough place to be for more than five days. For a few days, it's fun to be Hank Rollins' happy asshole. Any more than that and it becomes an amber-soaked zombie walk through one's personal hell.

As I wrote these few paragraphs, I went back and reviewed my postings from Vegas 2005-2007. I considered a brief retrospective. Then I decided against it.

I am a different person this year. I can't say how or what's changed, but I know I am different. Whether it's because I will be there for a shorter time or whatever has clicked in my head, I'm optimistic about the survivability of this trip. I actually feel like it will be successful, whatever that means.

I write this now so I can look back on it in three weeks when a normal life seems like a memory.

So, Hank, I'm going to Vegas in a few days. Chances are that I will gamble. My hope is that I come out the other side as a non-asshole, life-having, non-dick.

We'll start with Waffles because, well, I think it might be the funniest. This is from his second post way back on June 24, 2004:

The point is: if your feeling desperate, or your changing your style after a bad beat, calm down, take a breath, and play the way you know you should.

Next we'll take a look back at Joe Speaker from December 6, 2004. After blogging for less than a month, he was confident enough to write this:

Which brings me to my next point...er...pop culture phenomenon. I admit it. I not only watch "The O.C.", but I love it to the point of distraction. Yes, I'm 37 years old. I am only able to admit this publicly, if anonymously, after seeing the show revered by at least two other poker bloggers. God bless you guys.

Now, I know BG is one of the two referenced OC lovers, but I wonder who the other one is. Was it Al?

Speaking of BG, I wasted an hour of work today going through his archives. There's some great stuff there. On October 31, 2003, he gave us his top 10 nicknames he wished he had:

1. "Detroit Slick" (this would, of course, be my poker nickname when I take the card rooms of Detroit by storm)

Okay, Detroit Slick it is!

Next up are the guys at Wicked Chops Poker. Back in the day, they hadn't yet realized the potential of half-naked women (thank goodness that inspiration hit them!). In this case, it was Chops talking about his first time at the table with poker bloggers back on April 25, 2005:

The poker bloggers were cool. I was very surprised at the funny comments, obscure references, etc. made during play. I even, amazingly, typed an LOL (those who know me will be very disappointed I did this) because someone made a comment that was legitimately funny. I immediately punched myself in the nose for typing LOL, but what can I say? I laughed out loud. Is laughing a crime?

It seems that for some, the more things change, the more they stay the same. Hoy is a good example of that. Back on January 6, 2004, he explained why he had lost 13 consecutive tournaments on PokerStars:

So anyways, ps is fixed. And now, after threating me Numerous times with suspending my playing privileges, stopping me from taking notes or chatting, now ps is targeting me individually, ensuring that I cannot make it far in ANY of their tournaments.

That's good stuff. At least these days, he just blames us donkeys when he loses.

I'm sure there's lots more good stuff out there, but I've likely bored all of you with this look into our past. I just shudder to think what some of you may find in my past!

In 10 days, I'll be back in Vegas for the first time since the 2006 WSOP. And of those few dozen poker bloggers whom I first met that December weekend, I'll again get to spend time at the tables with Iggy, Pauly, Bad Blood, FTrain, Poker Prof and maybe even AlCantHang. Add in Otis and GRob, and we'll have nearly a third of that first group of bloggers back in Vegas together.

It was a long strange road that got us all there in the first place. A quick check of the archives shows these poker blogs started popping up in late 2003.

Pauly launched in August 2003:

Texas Hold'em poker is probably the most difficult, yet the most exhilirating card game out there. I know there are fanatics who share my same disposition and now there's a site for them to visit. Combined with the knowlegde that there are not too many poker blogs out there... I decided to start my own. 100% Poker speak... 100% of the time!

We opened here in September 2003:

Welcome to Up For Poker! Hopefully soon, there will be more contributors than just myself. This will also help my Up For Anything readers avoid a majority of my gambling rambling.

Iggy popped up a few weeks later:

Well, well, well. Figured I might as well start trying to document some of my experiences with God's nectar, Guinness, and the online Phenomena of Poker. I've been playing poker online for about six years. Drinking seriously for about twenty.

HDouble came next in October 2003 (where have ye gone?):

That's it for my introduction. Hopefully this journal will help me improve my game, as well as give me a chance to develop some thoughts worth developing. And if it gives some readers a few laughs or nods of recognition along the way, that would be nice too...

Update: BG also chimed in with his first poker post in October 2003:

I've been playing Texas Hold 'Em (no limit, $10 buy-in, winner take all) with the same group for about three months now. Normally, we're getting together six to ten strong on a weekend night, and playing until 1 or 2 AM. So far, so good. There's only two of us that can claim three victories during these games. I'm one of them.

Maudie jumped into the game in November 2003:

I hadn't played much hold-em previously - let alone no-limit - and so I was at sea with the jargon and had no clue as to strategy. Being the curious cat I am, I googled for poker reading material and was lead to my first poker publication purchase (nice alliteration, wouldn't you say?) Super System by Doyle Brunson.

Hammer-inventor Grubby joined a few days later:

I love playing poker. I love eating.

Hey, why not combine the two?

Mean Gene emerged in December 2003:

I'm going to write more stuff than just hand histories here, honest. I'm thinking maybe some poker fiction. I mean, you just KNOW that a flood of poker movies and books are flooding to market right now. Maybe I should jump on the bandwagon.

AlCantHang finally took the plunge in February 2004:

I've been hitting alot of poker blogs recently and they've been well written and very enjoyable. Probably not so for this one. Those who know me will tell you, I drink too much and play poker poorly. I mean really bad.

BadBlood hopped on the train in March 2004:

Ah yes, a community that I could understand. Poker.

Well, at this point in time, I'd played for a few years off-line. And about 9 months on-line, many that I'd like to forget...

And finally, PokerProf and Flipchipro in April 2004:

I decided to undertake this blog effort after considerable encouragement and harassment from various family and staff members. I will make every effort to be timely with my entries, offer content that is interesting and related to the Las Vegas poker scene and supplement the journal entries with photos.

**********************

I'm sure there are some I forgot or lost (can anyone figure out BG's wacky archiving?), but these are the ones who I remember built the foundation. The number of new poker blogs really started to take off in the middle of 2004. By the end of the year, a few dozen of us had this crazy idea that we could get our own private tournament run in a live Vegas poker room, that we could get top pros to play, that we could get online poker rooms to give us free stuff, and that we could get other top pros to meet and talk with us before the tourney.

To this day, I'm not sure how much Guinness and SoCo it took for us to think any of this was possible. And yet, there we were. In the middle of an experience we would likely never experience again. From the insane limo ride to Sam's Town to doubling up on Max Pescatori to the depravity that Vegas drops on us, I'll never forget the first time I met the poker blogger community.

And now I can't wait to get back to Vegas.

NOW FROM THE "SURELY YOU'RE JOKING!" (AND DON'T CALL ME SHIRLEY!) FILE

This is from no less a gambling authority that the "Times of India." I get all my WSOP coverage from them.

"Drug in alcohol curbs gambling urge"

Seventy seven people participated in the double-blind, placebo controlled study. Fifty eight men and women took 50, 100 or 150 milligrams of naltrexone every day for 18 weeks.

Forty percent of the 49 participants who took the drug and completed the study quit gambling for at least one month. Their urge to gamble also significantly dropped in intensity and frequency.

The other 19 participants took a placebo. But only 10.5 per cent of those who took the placebo were able to abstain from gambling. Study participants were aged between 18 and 75 and reported gambling for 6 to 32 hours each week.

Dosage did not have an impact on the results, naltrexone was generally well tolerated, and men and women reported similar results.

"This is good news for people who have a gambling problem," said Jon Grant of University of Minnesota and principal investigator of the study. "This is the first time people have a proven medication that can help them get their behaviour under control."

The research has been published in the June issue of the Journal of Clinical Psychiatry.

First, let me suggest that if gambling 6 to 32 hours per week qualifies as "gambling addict," I have a very serious problem. I mean VERY serious. Second, I've never been in a casino when I said, "Wait! I don't feel like gambling! I'm too drunk!"

Never happened.

SERIOUSLY, I KID THE "TIMES OF INDIA".

Sadly, those of us who work in the news business are constantly under attack by the evil forces of PR. We take constant flak flak. Some of it is pretty standard crap. Some of it is about as useful as crap.

Here's a real gem from "NewsWireRelease":

"Wall Street Gambling Risks Surpasses Las Vegas"

From 2004-2007 Securities Arbitration Group founder Paul Young conducted a study of 400 adults he and his team interviewed in Las Vegas casinos. The criteria was that the subject is both a regular Las Vegas game player and gambler and, as well, that the person is a Wall Street investor.

"We went in with no preconceived notions. The group was evenly split between males and females, marital status was not an issue, and the age group was between 40-54. Self-stated income ranged from $50,000 to $750,000 annually. Survey participants must have been U.S. citizens. Further, the subjects must have been employed persons or, if married, one of the partners must have been gainfully employed or self-employed," said Young.

The findings: 77% stated that Wall Street investing carries with it a "significantly" higher degree of risk than Las Vegas gambling. This was the most telling conclusion. People, in the Securities Arbitration survey, did not and do not trust Wall Street.

Of those 77% who don't trust Wall Street, when asked the reason many cited the Enron debacle, the Internet/tech boomlet, and others indicated that Wall Streeters "look out for themselves first and are guided by commissions and fees in making recommendations."

Asked about the "burn" rate; that is: Have you been burned by your stockbroker or Wall Street brokerage, 34% said that they had. NO ONE of these 34% said that the did anything about it. When asked as to the reason, ALL said that they did not know that they had any rights or opportunities to resolve disputes with Wall Street. NOT ONE respondent had heard of the term "securities arbitration."

"I concluded that the findings confirmed what I have suspected for 20 years: That Wall Street is more of a risky gamble than Las Vegas in the eyes of most Americans, that burned or abused Main Street investors don't know of securities arbitration and their rights of recovery when and if they have been burned. We learned that so many people are ripped off by Wall Street and fail to take action, ergo they are guaranteed to lose twice," said Young.

I love this guy's conclusion. I asked gamblers in Las Vegas if Wall Street is riskier than gambling in Las Vegas. They said yes. Therefore, I conclude that everything gamblers in Las Vegas tell me is true.

Yeesh. The really scary part is that this kind of PR garbage always ends up making it into SOMEONE'S newscast. Scary Stuff.

Let's just say I'm not planning to turn my 401k over to anyone on a roulette hot streak.

NOW TO SEX, DRUGS, AND GAMBLING! WE SAVE THE BEST FOR LAST!

Just enjoy this headline from the London Telegraph :

"As the UK Economy Slows Should We Invest In Drink, Gambling, And Fornication?"

In a word,

YES.

The Kentucky Derby

Frankly, I didn't spend a whole lot of time on this race. I didn't exactly make that clear in my post, although in ranking the factors that lead me to bet Momba, I put both a random text message from BG and the random selection of Lady Luck above my handicapping.

Monba finished last. Big Brown ran a remarkable race from the outside post.

The Preakness

I didn't bet this race. It didn't make much sense to because Big Brown was facing one of the weakest Triple Crown fields in history. Instead of handicapping it, I gave you all a hot tip on Casino Drive in the Peter Pan Stakes.

Big Brown dominated the Preakness as expected and Casino Drive won the Peter Pan Stakes earning me a couple hundred bucks.

The Belmont

G-Rob seems to delight in the fact that my horse didn't even get to run the race. He seems to suggest that being scratched demonstrates my inability as a handicapper. If anything, I look at this race and think what could have been. Big Brown died on the track (well, not Racing Belles-like dying). I didn't expect that. I did expect, however, that Big Brown would not win this race. Had Casino Drive not been scratched, I'm fairly certain he'd have won it.

Instead, Da'Tara won. A horse that didn't seem like it belonged. It was the longest shot in the field for a reason. In the end, he got to run clean without any real competition. That's probably just the kind of race he needed.

***********************

I didn't make any money on the Triple Crown this year. I don't think I won anything last year, but I can't remember. Two years ago, I hit on Jazil in the Belmont for about $1250. BG and I haven't yet hit a Pick 6, but we've come moderately close. I hit a Pick 4 this year for about $1800. I also had a couple of really successful days at Evangeline Downs mixed in with some average ones.

Picking the ponies isn't easy. But I'm certainly not done sticking my neck out with bold predictions. Perhaps I should add more disclaimers like, "Don't bet my picks," but that won't be much fun for you on those days I do hit!

Now I'm just crossing my fingers that Casino Drive is back on American soil for the Breeders Cup at Santa Anita in late October...

Back then, I was still a regular at Party's $10/$20 NL game. I'd done pretty well for myself there for quite a while and, in an act of pure cockiness, called out w00t4d0nks in public. Here in the South we call that "showing your ass." In the post Shortbuy City, I rambled on for an age about one particular guy who bought into my regular game for 25% of the max buy-in. I made assumptions on top of assumptions about the guy's MO and essentially called him a gambling dumbass. I based a lot of what I wrote on fairly limited data and a lot of arrogance. I wrote, in part:

I guess it just surprises me that with all the good poker information out there, some people are still treating poker like a gamble instead of an ATM. What's more, I'm starting to see more and more of these guys in the middle no-limit area. It's both fascinating and disturbing to watch. It's like watching Sammy Farha flip a coin for $25K. Watching gamblers can be fun. Playing poker against them can be more fun.

I'll be honest. The passing years, the end of Party, and my gradual decline into poker loathing had made me completely forget about w00t4d0nks. Over the years, I've noticed a lot more people at all levels of the game playing short-stacks. There are now scads of web sites and training grounds for the short-stack strategy. There are legions of players out there who do nothing but multi-table with short-stacks all day long. They are winning players against... well, against people like me who failed to adjust.

So, imagine my surprise when I ran into w00t4d0nks again--not at the tables, not at a bar, but in a comment on this very poker blog. When I saw the name in the comments, I immediately remembered the guy (who for some reason is etched into my brain in one particular seat at the Party Poker tables).

Here is w00t4d0nks note in its entirety:

Hey Otis. I just got a big chuckle out of one of your old blog entries and thought I'd write you a thanks. At the time of w00ts appearance on the Party 10/20 tables I was pretty well known under a different screen name as one of the big winning super regulars. I developed the short stack strategy after listening to people complain about the guys doing it(who were terrible poker players btw). I figured I'd give it a shot since I always experiment with out of the box strats.

The strategy was ridiculously successful and actually made me more $/hour than full buyin. It was at least $500/hour and I think was at about $1k/hour on nights and weekends towards the end but then party closed(i've still got the PTDB somewhere I think). There were so many regular ABC multi tablers in those days that it was incredibly simple. What noone realized was that I was using Pokertracker with a HUD and customized my push ranges to each player. I was picking up $100 with no showdown like it raining benjamins.

Anyways, I always joke with my friends about being the godfather of shortstacking and not getting credit for it so I thought this blog was a riot =)

w00t(I shove)4d0nks

After seeing the comment, I read it twice and tried to decide how I felt. After a few minutes, I knew exactly. It was if I just read, "Hey, Otis. Remember that hot girl you were dating in college? Yeah, really hot, huh? Well, here's the thing. The whole time you were dating, I was pouring it to her behind your back. We ended up getting married. She still talks about how you couldn't get her off."

Yeah, a little more than humbling.

Looking at it much later, I can still say short-stacking is not the most exciting version of poker, nor one that sounds like much fun to play. That admitted, poker is not really about having fun, is it? It's not about mainlining adrenaline and getting your rocks off on the stress. It's about making money. There are some people out there like w00t4d0nks who apparently made it work for them. Woot, if you're still reading, let us know how you're doing now. It might be instructive.

In the meantime, I'm wallowing in a different pool now. A dip in Olympic-sized Self Loathing isn't nearly as much fun, but it's a lot more real than blind ignorance. Time, I've found, is as much a magnifying glass as it is a mirror. Looking back, indeed, I can see a reflection of a very big donkey.

C'est moi.

HONEST LIARS

As a journalist, I'd say an honest reputation is one of my most valued assets. But I'm a liar at the table. People expect that.

In fact, the quickest way to tilt a table is to tell the truth a few times. Even honesty is deceptive when you use it properly. We all appreciate the value of deception in the game of poker.

That said, there is nothing that will drive you from the good graces of your tablemates faster than a reputation for "shooting angles" which stops just shy of calling someone a cheater outright.

I've been accused of it at times, but I like to think I shoot it straight. I'll play the meta-game sometimes but never outright break the rules. And I hate an angle shooter as much as anyone.

SOME EXAMPLES

Something everyone in our homegames does, and I've seen it plenty on TV too, is call an honest two pair.

For example:

I have pocket 2s. The board is K 6 Q A K. I DO have two pair. So when I get called on a bet I could, and actually have, just said "two pair" without showing the hand. It's true. Although the insinuation is that I'm much stronger than I am. I suppose the goal is to make the opponent muck without bothering to see that my 2-pair is an underpair to everything on the board.

I don't think that is necessarily shooting an angle.

On the other hand, we have a kid who sometimes shows up at homegames who will try something a little more sinister, and less honest.

He may have J9o on a board of J, 7, 4, K, A.

Once called down to the river he'll declare "Top Pair" without showing his hand. What he "meant to say" was "top pair on the flop" and it isn't top pair anymore. Again this is designed to make an opponent muck without seeing his cards.

It is also being a liar. And cheating.

Otis wrote a great post about a similar bastard we once encountered in Tunica called, appropriately enough. The Angle Shooter.

I hate cheaters. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that of all types of people, a gambler hates a dishonest man the most. That's how we roll.

I totally understand what the moonshiner's friend was trying to say.

As for our local angle-shooting friend, he played his last hand at one underground game after pushing all his chips in on the host who immediately called.

Angle-shooter then pulled his chips back and started wondering aloud how much he wanted to bet, as if he was only CONSIDERING going all in.

The operator of this undergound game allowed our angle shooter to pull his chips back.

Then he cashed him out.

And banned him from the game forever.

The Santa Anita Pick 6 Ticket

The Luckbox launched this venture in early April of this year. We start with a helpful advice column with the colorful title "How to Win the Pick 6"

It starts with a bang. Qualifications listed as such:

"How to Win the Pick 6
by Luckbox
Full disclosure: I've never won the Pick 6."

Good stuff!

Once that standard is set we then recruit donors for a Pick 6 ticket with an interesting qualifier:

"The Santa Anita Pick 6 Ticket
by Luckbox
After a few days of handicapping, the picks are in. BG and I have put together a ticket we believe has a great chance of bringing in a payday. Interestingly, we were on the same page in almost every race. That doesn't always happen. We're hoping that means we're locked in and not that we're both idiots."

I think we ALL hope you aren't both idiots. You've spent OUR money!

But what are the results? Fear not, those are fast... and not all that shocking,

The FIRST RACE ON THE PICK 6 TICKET?

So without further ado, the picks:

Race 6: 7f Clm50000
2 Switzerland, 7 Sorcerers Spell, 9 Hit and Hope

RESULTS: It's over before it begins. The last horse we left off was Exceeding. He was actually my Dad's favorite in this race, but was just left off the ticket by BG and I. Hit and Hope ran up front most of the way, but faded. The favorite, Switzerland, was never a factor. Socerers Spell ran one of the worst races I've seen in awhile. Started well behind the pack. And I mean WELL. Was forced to unwind really early and came around the turn 12-15 wide. No one can win running a race like that. Very disappointing.

YAY!

Even Luckbox was temproarily discouraged. His post the next day?

How to Win the Pick 4

Good TIMES! And fear not, you can't keep a luckbox down!

THE RUN FOR THE ROSES! THE KENTUCKY DERBY!

This is where the true genius takes shape. There was a huge 20 horse field at the post in this race. 20 Horses! Picking a winner would be hard! Which means picking the OPPOSITE of the winner wil be really hard too.

Check out the picks from our post "Handicapping the Kentucky Derby":

"Here is your Kentucky Derby winner.

Monba"

How did Monba do?

20th

out of 20.

See? The OPPOSITE of the winner! Here's the rationale:

"It doesn't take much skill, however, to list 10 horses that could win a race. What you want is the winner. And that winner will be Monba.

There it is. The Blue Grass Stakes winner will make it happen again."

For the Record, "Bob Black Jack" finished 16th.
"Pyro" finished 8th.
"Colonel John" was 6th.

This post is rife with sheer genius. Take it all in:

"Big Brown should go off as the second favorite. He also has a shot at winning this race, but coming out of the 20th post will be more than he can overcome. He'll expend a lot of energy to get himself closer to the rail and the four horses inside of him are too good to allow him that room. This is the best horse in the field, but he won't win."

Big Brown DID win. By a LOT!

GOOD TIMES!

What about the Belmont?

On May 10th Luckbox dove into the complicated world of picking the Belmont. And this one is a doozy.

After Luckbox posted his "Hot Belmont Tip:"

Hot Belmont Tip
by Luckbox
I'll keep this short for those of you who don't care about horse racing (and therefore, don't care about making awesome amounts of money based on my handicapping insights!).

I'm eyeing a horse you probably haven't heard of. And his name is poker-blogger worthy, Casino Drive.

I wrote an e-mail to Otis and Badblood wondering if they knew a bookie who would give me a line on "Casino Drive" bursting into flames in the starting gate. No takers. They knew the Luckbox was involved. In fact, so did the poor horse's trainers. In order to keep their colt from becoming a spontaneous barbeque, the horse was scratched from the lineup and skipped the race altogether.

Good Move!

Now the actual Belmont Picks... keeping in mind these were posted when the field was still at 10, before "Casino Drive" was scratched.

First, a recap of the DOOMED Horse:

5 Casino Drive: I've written about this horse before. My Hot Belmont Tip from May 10th told you that this would be the horse to watch. Despite being lightly raced (just two career starts), Casino Drive is my pick. When horses