I Can't Make This Stuff Up... (Which is why I have to do this for free.)

It has been a historic past couple of weeks in the world of sports. Barry Bonds has, for better or worse (see worse), eclipsed Hank Aaron's career home run record. Tom Glavine (thx Dimmy) has become the most recent, and quite possibly the last, pitcher to become a member of the exclusive 300 win club. Both of these events however have been surpassed by a story of even greater courage, determination, and fortitude. That's right, Adam "Pacman" Jones has made his first appearence as a professional wrestler.

Whore (hôr, hōr) - (n.) - A person considered as having compromised principles for personal gain.

(I did not post this to imply Pacman Jones is a whore. Quite the opposite, for as you can clearly see, in order to be a whore you must have principles.)

Every once in a while news stories come along that make you say "there's no way that really happened because it's just too perfect." An event that restores your faith in humanity to entertain while at the same time destroying your faith in humanity to sustain itself for any period of time. Let's face it, everyone likes to watch a train wreck, and the only thing better than a train wreck is a train wreck when the trains collide head-on while leaping through a ring of fire. Something so improbable, yet at the same time so predictable, that it just plain blows your fucking mind. But enough waxing philosophical...

I was trying to understand this on the way to work today, and after burning quite a bit of lean tissue pondering, I think I've got it. So if I'm an embattled professional athlete on suspension, with a reputation for not only making bad decisions, but making a spectacle of myself while making said bad decisions, the best way to rehab my image is to show up on a professional wrestling Pay-Per-View?

Shit... makes sense to me.

What else could go further toward proving that I am a humble, responsible, mature, and productive member of society than letting some cro-magnum freak hopped up on HGH (see Barry Bonds) put me through a table? The only way this could be better would be if he showed up waving a loaded gun around while the public address system played Fat Joe's "Make it Rain," remix ("Don't ask me what my name is, stupid bitch I'm famous," and yes, that's an actual lyric).

If Pacman Jones does not have an image management team he needs to hire one, stat. If he does have an image management team, they should be euthanized. Unless of course, and this would be entirely to perfect to be true, they all realized how completely asinine this was and told him to go ahead with it anyway while futilely trying to suppress their laughter. Either way these people are probably never working again after this, (note: this is probably not a true statement though it definitely should be) and anyone willing to commit career suicide for the sake of comedy is alright by me.

By the way, speaking of "Make it Rain," when did making it rain become a national news story? I was watching ESPN, oh about two weeks ago, and as part of the final rundown on PTI, they covered the fact that Jermain Taylor went to Flashdancers in NYC and made it rain. Now obviously this was one of the days that Kornheiser and Wilbon both had the day of, as they would never allow this mindlessness to waste 15 seconds of air time. The problem is, when stuff like this makes news, I begin to think that Tony and Mike are the only serious journalists left.

It's disgusting enough that these athletes have enough disposable jack to go to a strip club and facilitate precipitation greater than or equal to the country's average yearly income, should we really encourage this behavior by giving these self-absorbed stars the only thing they love more than money? Rhetorical.

Granted most of the times people do this, the strippers don't actually keep the money. But isn't that even worse? Taking part in behavior that might be considered slightly depraved is something I can live with. We all need to occasionally feed our vices so they don't become compulsions, it's only healthy. However, being cheap? That's just inexcusable.

If you're really in a position where you can afford to shower half naked women in money, then you should have enough cash that they can keep it when you're done. If you can't afford to blow $60,000 to help a couple of sexually empowered young ladies "pay for college," then you my friend, have no business "going to the Doppler."

Today's Lesson: You can't always get what you need, but sometimes, you can get what you want.

Honor Among Thieves

Okay, to anyone reading this who doesn't know anything about the game of poker, I apologize in advance. I would hope you would still read though as this post really isn't about poker, rather the backdrop is a poker game. If you don't know about poker and want to learn or if you know a lot about poker and would like to read more about it may I suggest Rex's, Virge's and the Pokersluts' blogs I have linked on the right hand side of the page.

Anyway, so I took my first vacation day since I started my new job today and decided I had the urge to feed one of my favorite vices; gambling.


Land based casinos are as of right now illegal in Illinois, so if you want to gamble you have to go to Indiana or go to the riverboats. One exception to this rule are charity "casino nights." If you're holding a "casino night" for the benefit of a charity, said charity may apply for and receive temporary gaming license... I love this country

Now as a result of the poker boom a couple of organizations have sprung up in my state that throw these casino nights for various charities. The charity supplies the people to run the "cash cage" to make it legal, and these organizations set up the events and provide the dealers. Hence, Chicago Charitable Games and Rockford Charitable Games together throw roughly five of these "casino nights," at which 95% of the action is some form of poker, a week. A rake (percentage) is taken from each pot or tournament played at these events and this is the money that goes to the hosting charity.

So I looked on the internet to see if one of these organizations was going to have an event in my area since, while the nearest river boat doesn't offer stakes as low as I wanted to play today, these events typically do. Low and behold, Chicago Charitable Games was holding an event about fifteen minutes, from my house so, I was all like "Yahtzee." Now Rockford Charitable Games has been doing these types of events for years, and I've been to many of their events and been happy with the experience. Chicago Charitable Games, other the other hand, is kind of a young upstart in the charity poker scene, only having organized their first event earlier this year.

Both of these companies have some issues, as most businesses operating inside legal loopholes do. The dealers that work for the company work solely for tips. So basically they're the same people that would have a job as a casino dealer if the casino dealers didn't have a decent hourly wage or health benefits. They're not bad people for the most part but definitely not the brightest crayons in the box.

Let's just put it this way, there is a lot of menthol cigarette smoking going on with this crowd. Now before like 5 of the 8 people who read this blog post accusing me of being racist, almost 90% of the dealers are white so slow your roll. I'm also not saying that if you smoke menthol cigarettes you are poor or uneducated or both. Some people just like menthols and that's cool. I've smoked them, they can be quite tasty. What I AM saying is if you are poor and uneducated and do you smoke, when you go to BP you're probably deciding between Newports, Kools, or Marlboro Menthol Lights (unless of course the perennial P-Funk Buy Two Get One is on the table). There's nothing wrong with it, but let's be honest with ourselves.

Anyway, the dealers, because they are provided by the company, are the same at every event. This means they know the regulars which is fine, that could happen at the casino as well. The difference between these events and the casino is that the dealers also sometimes play at the events when they on breaks from dealing. Usually this is not an issue at the Rockford events because for the most part their events are run very professionally. I have even seen a floor (think pit boss for you non-poker players) go against a player who is a dealer for the company.

So flash forward to today, I'm on my way to this event like a kid coming downstairs on Christmas morning. I get there and register for the tournament I saw online that I wanted to play in, and I get my seat. We're about to get started and two guys sit down immediately to my right. The guy closest to me, we'll call him "Paul," is a dealer for Chicago Charitable Games, the guy immediately to his right, we'll call him "Ringo," is apparently a regular. Paul and Ringo know each other and, for all intents and purposes, are assholes. For some reason, I feel a pit developing in my stomach. You probably see where this is going already, but don't worry I will recall it in gory detail anyway.

A little bit about me. I was no angel growing up. I got into multiple fights in grade/junior high/high school, but I've mellowed considerably with age. I've tried to adopt the old turn the other cheek, best revenge is to live well. I'm young, my heart is an open book, I say live and let live... all that shit.

Don't get me wrong, i still want to punch people in the throat, the difference is now I suppress the urge.

So the cards are in the air and I notice Paul and Ringo are showing each other their hands after one of them folds. There are two problems with this. First of all, poker is not a team game (usually); one person to a hand. Second, even if Paul is out of the hand, when Ringo shows him what he has, even though it doesn't affect the betting, Paul is getting information that nobody else at the table is getting. Poker is a game of information, so this is very not cool.

Now I like to give everyone a chance. The problem is that I can already tell that these two clowns have mouths on them; big fishes in the backyard pond that is the world of Charity Poker events. Honestly, I could give a fuck less; if you're king of the sewer it doesn't matter how nice your palace is, it still smells like shit all the time. Apparently they feel like big shots though so whatever keeps them from kicking the chair out when they go home alone every night. So I respectfully ask them:

"Can you guys do me a favor and please not share your hands with each other?"

Paul: "Dude what the fuck does it matter if I'm not in the hand?"

Okay, he might just be out of Kools and a little testy, let's try this again:

Me: "Well see the problem is though, you guys know what each other is playing, playing to a raise, calling with, etcetera, and the rest of us don't."

Paul: "That's fuckin' stupid, it doesn't fuckin' matter if I fuckin' show him my hand..."

Well, at least he's an articulate little son of a bitch isn't he?

Okay now I want to let this one slide because I think he might just be upset because he doesn't know what "etcetera" means, which is fine. We can't all be ex-journalism majors and the few big words I don't know scare me too, so I'm cool, but then his buddy chimes in.

Ringo: "I tell you what buddy... anytime I show him a hand just ask to see it and I'll show you if that will make you feel better."

Now I dunno how much time you all spend in poker rooms, so for those of you who aren't familiar with how these interactions work, basically right now he's talking in code. What he said loosely translates to "Fuck your mother."

Okay so I've gone from like a 2 to a 7, which means I've already envisioned killing both of these guys with my bare hands in three different ways in the theatre of my mind, but whatever. I remind myself that they're probably both career Office Max cashiers so I don't worry about it. The game continues to go on and they continue to talk shit. I continue to resist the urge to grab one of them by the throat, take him outside, and slam his head in a car door. All is well in our microcosmic utopia of poker.

Now this is the part where some of the non-poker people may get a little lost but just try to stay with me as best as you can, you'll get the important parts. Start pokerspeak...

So I have about 4500 in front of me and I wake up to AKos, Ringo is in the big blind. Blinds are 100/200, I make it 700 to go. Ringo calls. Flop comes QQ6, separate suits. I know at this point that not only is my AK good, but I'm getting pay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-id because this guy is so cocky that if I bet he's gonna come bounding over the top of me with air. I bet 1000. I know Ringo is going to shove over the top of me for the rest of his about 2600 and then if I fold show his bluff in a feeble attempt prove to everyone else at the table that he is a better person than me, in poker and life. That's how these jackasses think but whatever. So he takes his stack in his hand, and goes to throw it in the pot. He moves the chips past his cards, about a foot in and a half in front of him, making a clear and decisive move to throw them into the pot. I beat him into the pot, throwing my chips in. Ringo however has not let go, and now pulls his chips back.

Now those of you who do not play poker probably don't understand the problem. The problem here is that what Ringo did is blatantly illegal. If a player takes chips and makes a betting motion, he must complete that motion. If you pull the chips back after making such a motion, your chips must still go into the pot. Otherwise you are doing what is called "shooting an angle" which is basically poker-speak for "doing something that could get you stabbed with an ice pick."

I immediately pick up on this and notify the dealer. Three or four other people at the table chime in and agree with me as this is a pretty standard rule in every card room/casino but apparently NOT at this particular charity event. Ringo thinks those chips still belong to him, so we call over the floor. Now the floor is younger than I am and even though he's dressed business casual, it's painfully apparent he's faking his air of professionalism and just can't quite pull it off. If you guys don't know what I'm talking about here, go to any mid-market department store like Carson Pierie Scott or Marshall Fields and find the kid in the shirt, tie, dress pants, and lip ring. That's not the problem though. Here's the problem: The floor knows Paul and Ringo, he doesn't know me.

Apparently, this means that Ringo doesn't have to give me his chips and myself and the other now four people at the table who know the rule are painfully mistaken.

Needless to say, I am confused and saddened by this turn of events. I understand that by coming to these events and not being a "regular" some players may have an advantage over me because they know other players' tendencies and I don't. That's fine. I understand that the entire concept of these charity poker things is kinda shady to begin with so it's not going to be as professionally run as, say a game at a casino. I figure that's a fair trade for me not having to drive an hour each way. What I'm not okay with is being outright cheated.

If you're going to have a shady business, that's fine, but you never cheat your customers. Most gamblers especially understand that their chosen past time is not necessarily always within the boundaries of local law. They're usually okay with this though, as long as the integrity of the game is sound. One thing gamblers can't stand, legal or illegal, is a crooked game.

You could have an illegal backroom card game that is run by the mafia and dealt by 5 year old children from a third world country that get paid three cents an hour and it will be packed every night if the action is good. But it doesn't matter if the game is in the heart of Las Vegas, dealt by Miss America, with all proceeds going to cancer research, if the game is outed as being crooked you'll lose your clientele faster than you can say "Hey, how did that tumbleweed get in here?" Not to mention the fact that depending on who said clientele is, you just might just wake up in the middle of the night to knock on your front door from someone sent to seriously fuck your day up.

But I'm past that by this point. I'm more like the father whose daughter runs out immediately on her 18th birthday and gets a tattoo on her lower back and her tongue pierced.

I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed.

By the way, both lower back tattoos and tongue rings are hot, so I really don't have a problem with either of them, in fact quite the opposite. That said, God forbid I have daughter and she gets either one of those things, she's getting shipped out to a convent in the middle of the South American jungle the next morning.

I should probably try to get back on topic here instead of being distracted by tongue rings and lower back tattoos (as I often am).

When we last left off, Ringo is absolutely giddy by this point, as he gets to keep his chips and has "pulled one over on me." Because of this he is celebrating by letting everyone know how "smart he is" for not putting his chips in the pot and how dumb I am for "acting too quick."

You can't spell "class" without an "ass."

This brings me to my next point.

I'm running for President in 2008, and I'm going to win. My platform is simple.

I promise, if elected, to make it legal to punch anyone over the age of 18 and under the age of 65 in the face once.



I'm thoroughly convinced this would law would make the United States of America the most polite country in the world. This law would effectively eradicate all racism, sexism, and other forms of discrimination from our society.

BMW and Mercedes Benz owners would yield to Toyota Corollas in traffic.

The everyday consumer would actually be nice to customer service people.

Everyone would tip 20%.

Let's be honest, we would all be a lot nicer to each other if there was a chance that if we weren't, we just might get jacked in the face. Now I know this sounds barbaric to some at first but you have to realize the psychology behind our new law.

The idea isn't that anyone will now be able to punch someone in the face without fear of consequence.

The idea is that the fear of a punch to the face will prevent people from doing things that cause them to deserve one.

Like a first kiss, or a first job, the day a person learns the humbling fact that "ain't nobody above as ass-whipping" is an important right of passage that is vital if one is to become a productive and functioning member of society.

It's a well known fact, that for the most part people are either talkers or fighters. People talk shit because they can't fight and people who can fight don't have to talk shit because, well, they can fight; natural selection has smiled on them and they have nothing to prove. Now normally this would be alright, but unfortunately the way our current legal system is arranged people who have no right whatsoever to talk shit are allowed to run their mouths whenever they please with minimal fear of reprisal. This must be corrected, and once I am elected this law will present us all with the solution set to this algebraic equation of injustice.

So remember when you step into that ballot box on election day 2008, if this ever-changing world in which we live in makes you give in and cryyyyyyyyyyy...

Vote for me.

Today's lesson: If you're gonna be dishonest, you had better at least be honest about it.

Come Original (Please For The Love of God)

Okay, we need to have a talk about TV.

Don't get me wrong there have been some decent new shows in the past year or so. Deadliest Catch; good shit. Let's be honest, if you're going to have a show and the theme song is going to be "Wanted Dead Or Alive" by Bon Jovi, it had better be a pretty fucking good show, (say what you want about Bon Jovi and his haircare and the horrible excuse for recycling that were his last two albums, that song rocks you everything you care about.)

Obviously, Entourage. This is the greatest show on television. If you don't believe me consider the fact that this conversation has probably been had at the HBO offices on more than one occasion:

Exec 1: "So basically, what you're telling me is we have a hit show that's basically just a half hour about some famous dude and his friends running around La-La land trying to get puss?"

Exec 2: "Yeah... and it wins Emmy's."

Oh yeah, and when you have some free time IMDB Kevin Dillon, because even if I tell you Johnny Drama was in Platoon, you're not gonna believe me. In fact, if I'm not mistaken his character's nickname in Platoon was "Bunny," so if you've seen the episode of Entourage from two Sundays ago, ("Day Fuckers") you'll know why the obscure reference gods are smiling.

Plus crazy props to USA for pulling the Exacta with "Psych" and "Burn Notice." Psych is by far the better of the two, but Burn Notice, while not as good as Psych, is not that bad. Besides, the former counter-culture kid in me wants to stand up and clap just seeing Bruce Campbell working again (Ahoy indeed, my friend). Not to mention the main character's girlfriend is fuckin' smokin', except the missed out on the the 3x hotness multiplier they would have hit had they kept the Irish accent she had in the pilot.

I can't forget about Jericho. Since when does a network actually bring back a phenomenal show after cancelling it due to public outcry? Somebody lost their job over bringing that show back, they had to. Intelligent people aren't allowed to be network executives. Congratulations on finally doing something that Fox didn't even have the stones to try.

That's not what we need to talk about though.

Alas kiddies, all is not well in TV land. There is a new scourge threatening the very fabric of all that is holy on basic cable. I'm talking, of course, about...

Bounty Girls Miami.

Tim Chapman is not pleased.
Between this and "Ice Road Truckers" it's painfully apparent that Hollywood has run the fuck out of new ideas. I'm thoroughly convinced at this very minute there is a room somewhere at Discovery Networks where there is a person wondering aloud, "Hey remember The Godfather? We could probably sell advertising during a shitty version of that."

But I digress... A couple of thoughts on this one. First of all, Bounty Girls Miami? Not to be a dick, but who told these chicks this was a good business plan? Granted the one looks like an absolute man-beast (and honestly when I say "the one" you can pretty much take your pick, but in this particular case referring to "Jag"). Let's be honest though, Beth still has 38 pounds and a Twinkie on the four of them put together; these girls are not scaring anyone.

Dog and Tim look like they got lost on the way to Summerslam, and people try to fight them. These girls look like the got lost on the way to Curves, I don't think it's an illogical assumption to make that somebody is gonna try to slap the shit out of these poor women. I'm not sayin' it's right, I'm just sayin' they better have Quinton Jackson for their cameraman because if I was flyin' on PCP and they came to my house, I would most definitely have my "Shiiiiiiiiiiiit ain't no way in hell I'm goin' back to jail," T-shirt on.

As a quick side note, if you're one of these people who is a die hard boxing fan but will not watch MMA because you find it "barbaric," you seriously need to burn that soapbox right now. Besides, watching it go up in flames will pry be more dramatic and riveting than any WBO Heavyweight fight you're going to see anytime soon.

Second of all, does Court TV honestly think that there's room for more than one show about a team of people running down drug addicted bail jumpers? Let's just be honest with ourselves, people do no watch DTBH because they want to see bounty hunters hunt down bail jumpers. People watch DTBH (aside, of course, from not wanting to miss the episode where they finally give Tim an asp,) because nothing makes for better television than a former drug addict who is prone to begin waxing philosophical at a moment's notice. If Court TV wants to try to compete for the DTBH demographic (which, btw, is everyone), they're better off going after syndication rights for episodes of "I'm With Busey."

All that being said, if they give these chicks tasers all bets are off and my Tivo says "Feed me."

Speaking of real life crime drama, has anyone seen commercials for this new show "Murder" on Spike? Basically the premise is as follows; "Hey, everyone is mesmerized like an 18 year old kid getting his first table dance by 12 different versions of CSI, so let's make a reality show where we take a group of people we found wandering around outside the studio lot and have them try to solve REAL crimes."

Just out of random curiosity, how is this even fucking legal?

So you have real people's real dead bodies, and real crimes, and people who are not at all real cops? If I do ever kill someone I hope to God it makes this show because I could confess and go with a public defender and still skate. The only people worse that the people who came up with, financed, and then proceeded to green light this match made in hell are the families of the victims who I'm sure signed forests of waivers and took home a decent chunk of jack so their newly dead relatives could could get their posthumous 15 minutes. If "The Real World" and CSI we supposed to go together, somebody would have shot Puck. Come to think of it, someone probably should have shot Puck.

Rounding it out with the ugly; "The Kill Point." Spike needs to stop making original shows that aren't about the UFC. If you make a show about a hostage situation resulting from a bank robbery done by a bunch of guys who are ex-military and you somehow figure out a way to make it boring, the Etch-A-Sketch that is your Creative Department is in dire need of a good shaking.

Okay, a private detective who is OCD? Solid. A hostage negotiator who is obsessed with grammar? Stupid. If you haven't seen this show let me give you a glimpse. Donnie Wahlberg's character and one of his antagonists are in the middle of heated, climactic dialogue. Then, just when you think the confrontation is going to reach it's breaking point, he decides to make his crushing point by dissecting the antagonist's sentence structure.

No really, I'm serious.

While this would probably cause my Freshman English teacher from high school to have to clean the hardwood floor under her recliner with a mop and bucket, the rest of the world is cringing. Cringing like you do when you think about that one time back in college when the guy/girl you had a crush on actually sat down next to you at that party and instead of coming up with something witty or sexy to say you instead began sweating profusely until you inexplicably got up and ran out of the room, (carpe diem, baby).

Yeah it's that bad, if you don't believe me, check out an episode. Just remember, you're not getting that hour of your life back, no matter how many times you ask.

Today's Lesson: They call it a cash box because it's where you keep your cash.

Bonus Lesson just for Spike TV: Little known fact, Mark Wahlberg and Donnie Wahlberg? Not the same guy.

Freebie

New post in production currently, but meanwhile I have to give a shameless plug to a couple of people I think are probably two of the smartest comedians out there right now. And no, I'm not talking about Dane Cook.

Patton Oswalt and Lewis Black.

Below I have provided Amazon links to a couple of their CDs and DVDs

http://www.amazon.com/Wasted-Education-Reccomendation-List/lm/R31J1ZPB37L8GM/ref=cm_lm_pdp_title_full/104-6912598-1536752

I also added a DVD by David Spade and a double disc by Henry Rollins. I don't recommend these as strongly as the selections by Oswalt and Black but Spade shows that he is most likely criminally under-rated as a stand-up comic and Rollins is just an all around great story teller with a great, albeit dark, sense of humor.

By the way this link isn't set up so that if you buy this stuff and I get cash, that's what the ads on the side of the page are for (HINT HINT). I just assume that if you find my blog entertaining you probably have at least a similar sense of humor to myself and I wanted to share a couple of performances I thoroughly enjoyed that you probably haven't heard about.

Love,

Huck