By Pauly
San Francisco, CA

Editor’s Note: On the 5th anniversary of Bush 2.0 sealing online poker’s fate with the signing of the UIGEA, I want to share something I wrote five years ago. This appeared on Tao of Poker on 10/9/06.

* * *

“Just for grins I shoved a hot pepper up my ass while I was jerking off. Pretty hot, but not hot enough to not try it yourself.” – Daddy

I was 22 when Jerry Garcia died on August 9, 1995. I had the day off from work and went to see a rare weekday Yankees game with my buddy Jerry who was in town on summer vacation from law school. We got drunk, smoked a joint in stairwell in left field, and watched Cal Ripken smash two home runs as the Yankees lost.

After the game I stopped by the Metropolitan Museum of Art to meet up with my girlfriend at the time. That’s when I found out about the news of Jerry Garcia’s passing. Less then two months earlier, I met Jerry Garcia and shook his hand (which eleven years later still marks one of my Top 10 Moments of All Time along with getting a blowjob on the subway and finishing my first novel).

Some older hippies and Deadheads that I know said, “The 1960s officially ended when Jerry Garcia died.” For many fans the news was devastating. The music of the Grateful Dead was not just for teenagers. As they band evolved and got older, so too did the audience. The death of their icon and hero affected not just kids but former hippies who integrated into society. They had jobs, families, and mortgages and the day Jerry Garcia died marked a void for many of them.

The Grateful Dead were followed all around the world by it’s fervent fans. Some never left tour while others jumped on and off as the drove around the country checking out shows in different cities. When Jerry Garcia died, not only did the music stop but so did the essential purpose for many individuals. Their entire lives revolved around the Grateful Dead touring. That included not just fans, but also people who worked and earned a living in the Dead’s bubble such as roadies, management, and merchandise vendors. Most of the hippies following the Dead from city to city paid their way by vending in the parking lot. Most of them lived in their cars, vans, and VW buses and sold enough stuff to buy gas, food, and a ticket to the next show. When Jerry Garcia died, an entire subculture plunged into confusion. They never had conventional jobs and found themselves at a crossroads of uncertainty, confusion, and grief.

The immediate result for the passing of Jerry Garcia and the eventual break up of the Grateful Dead also meant that there was a void to be filled. Even Rolling Stone magazine printed up a list of bands that would take the torch from the Dead. In fact several of those bands benefited financially and commercially from Jerry Garcia’s death. Without the Dead to follow around, bands like Widespread Panic, Dave Matthews Band, and Phish eventually inherited the fans, the suits, and the hippie vendors hawking their wares in the parking lot of their concerts. Their careers were advanced by the death of Jerry Garica.

Even I took advantage of the nomadic lifestyle in the late 1990s. I spent most of 1999 following Phish all over North America seeing concerts in 19 different states and 26 different cities including two in Canada. I got by selling whatever I could in the parking lots to get by whether it was tickets, pharmies, or t-shirts. Even my girlfriend at the time sold hemp jewelry or veggie burritos in order to earn enough money to buy a ticket for that night’s show and have enough money left over to buy beer and gas so we can drive to the next city and repeat the process all over again.

In 2004 when Phish broke up, there was another void to be filled and several other bands benefited from the rabid subculture. Some hippies grew old and others cut their hair and got real jobs while a new crop of prep school kids or frat and sorority girls joined the mix to keep the monster going. They voraciously drink, ingest drugs, and will party to dawn. They love music and will travel thousands of miles to see a concert. Plus they’ll spend money… and money is what keeps the monster going.

Twenty years from now they’ll be some new band that kids will follow around religiously like I did with the Dead in college and Phish in my mid/late 20s. Why? Because that’s what some people are into. They want to escape from the bitter realities of the actual world and feel connected to something/someone even if it’s for a few hours.

I saw what happened to the hippie subculture in a post-death Jerry Garcia world and that’s the closest comparison that I can come up with the recent legislation that tweaks the legality of online poker. Within a few days of Party Poker announcing their pull out of the American market, other sites such as Full Tilt and Poker Stars said they’d stay. They’re filling the void and billions of dollars in rake and tournament fees will go into their bank accounts instead of Party Gaming.

Online poker is not dead. Yet. Even though the party got busted up, people still want a fix. Ever go to one of those huge suburban parties in high school and the entire place is jumping and you’re about to declare the festivities were epic enough to be awarded Party of the Year… and then the cops come and bust it up? Mostly everyone leaves and goes home, but a few diehards stay around and drink the rest of the keg. I’m gonna be one of those guys.

For the past week, I’ve read the collective narcissistic psychodramas on everyone’s blogs regarding the death of online poker and Black Monday or Black Friday. And depending on who your read, the future is dim and dark or bright and rosey. I think that the future falls somewhere in between. The news is not that bad, but it’s not good either.

The post-apocalyptic poker world will not have mutant kids with three eyes running around and Jesus Freaks jumping out of the bushes spraying Holy Water onto the faces of hedonists. I don’t think black helicopters will land in your cul de sac and the federales will whisk you away if they find you playing an SNG on Poker Stars and ship you in a secret CIA prison in Djibouti where they’ll fry your testicles with car batteries and rip out your fingernails with rusty pliers before they toss you into a 10 by 10 cell with a fingernailess zealot named Ahmed who has a tattoo of “Death to America” written in Farsi on his forehead.

Or maybe they will?

Poker players are gamblers at heart and some will take risks to maintain their fix. The world is filled with greedy people and they’ll be several ruthless companies who’ll flip the bird to the American courts and lawmakers that will take risks to gain access to the subculture of online poker players.

Then I look at a place like my hometown of New York City and try to figue out the future. Without online poker, the demand for new poker rooms and underground clubs will increase dramatically. Some daring entrepreneurs will open up new clubs and the players will come in droves. Whichever ethnic mafia running rooms is about to make a shitload of money in the Big Apple. Of course the police will have to get involved and spend time shutting down the rooms, just like cops in the 1920s busted up bathtub gins and speakeasies.

The right-wingers who were in favor of the anti-online poker legislation pulled out the terrorist card and said that online gambling sites can be a haven for terrorists to launder money. But by banning online poker, the NYPD will have to exhaust their already limited resources on busting up poker games rather than focusing on protecting our city from terrorists… which we’re severely under-prepared. Instead of cops breaking up terror cells, they’ll be wasting their time keeping my brother, F Train, and The Rooster out of poker clubs in Chinatown. By trying to make our nation safer… the suits in Washington made my city more vulnerable.

Politicians don’t care about the people. They only care about themselves. Same goes for corporations. If it comes down to a choice between you or them… they’ll cut the rope every time and let you fall to your death. That’s the way it is and that’s why I’ve lost my passion for politics. It’s not apathy but ultimately realizing that we don’t live in a true democracy and we don’t have freedom of choice but the illusion of freedom and choice. We can vote out the politicians currently in office, but they’ll be replaced with a new group of lying scumbags that will sell your kids to the highest bidder if it meant they’ll get another term in office.

That’s why I don’t see a revolutionary change happening in America. Not just with poker but with everything else surrounding the eroding civil liberties of Americans. Here’s my reasoning… my peers in Generation X and the kids born after me are spoiled, lazy, dumbass little shitheads. We’re overly selfish, hypersensitive, and too self-centered. We don’t have the vision or the passion to evoke a world wide change like the baby boomers did in the 1960s. The hippies were better educated and organized. They believed in a better way and a brighter future. They put themselves on the line and for a while, the people in power got spooked the fuck out.

Most of the Americans that I know are more concerned with watching TV and buying stuff rather than hitting the streets to protest en masse. Some might write up whiny diatribes on their blogs or write nasty letters to their congressman, but after their little rants they’ll never leave the couch or their cubicle to actually do something. We’re a nation of apathetic scared fatasses and we’re going to continue to let scrupulous politicians and multinational corporations dictate policy. Me included.

And the other reason I don’t think my generation can undertake a social change is because the hippies failed. Even John Lennon admitted, “Flower power did not work. We need to try something different.”

The 1960s saw the great minds, leaders, and visionaries trying to lead a charge against the political machines with millions of disgruntled citizens ready to make some changes. And in the end, it didn’t work. The Man won. Black and white images from the 1968 Democratic National Convention in Chicago or Kent State in 1970 should be all the proof that you need to see that in the end The Man will do anything possible to stay in power, which includes beating and killing their own citizens.

After the hippies got their heads full of Owsley’s liquid sunshine bashed in a few times by the cops, they eventually stopped protesting. That’s when militant groups sprung up like the Blank Panthers. I’m waiting for a militant group of poker bloggers to form a united front and start fire bombing the campaign headquarters of major political figures but that will never happen. We can’t even get ten bloggers to agree on the same weekend to have a convention, let alone formulate any sort of social change and revolution.

I’ve traveled around the world enough and extensively throughout America to honestly say that this is an amazing country but our leaders are war mongering pimps selling our souls to suits in a boardroom somewhere. Sure there are places like Barcelona or Samui where I’d like to live for a while, but at some point I’d get homesick and want to return to America particularly New York City. Then again, I technically didn’t grow up in America as Spalding Gray explained, “New York City is a small island off the coast of America.”

As is, I’m an expatriate living in America. I finally understand the reference by The Rolling Stones… “exile on Main Street.”

Tags: 2011 | atom | day 5 | entertainment | food | online-poker | Pai Gow | politics | sports betting | tao of five | videos | wcoop

By Pauly
Las Vegas, NV

Timtern and I were covering the final table of a Donkament inside the Mothership and we recorded an episode of the quickest poker podcast on the intertubes…

2011 WSOP – Episode 18: Mothership Stench with Timtern (2:43) – Pauly and Timtern are in the press section inside the Mothership, while sweating the final table of the Donkament. Timtern shares a story about a couple of railbirds who put him on mega-tilt, including the guy who took off his shoes. Pauly also describes the sketchy, yet pungent scene inside the Mothership.

For more episodes, visit the Tao of Pokerati archives.

Tags: atom | black friday | facebook | lawsuit | news | phil ivey | social-media | Tao of Pokerati | the pai gow diaries | Vegas | videos

By Pauly
Las Vegas, NV

The gang shooting the videos for Bluff Magazine are killing it this summer. Kudos to Marty, Sueann, and Michel for their stellar work. Check out the latest installment of BLUFF Live @ the WSOP, especially the hysterical segment of Finding Phil Ivey.

Oh, by the way, because I’m a columnist at Bluff Magazine, they interviewed me about my latest article about the hallways at the WSOP in the current issue. There’s a snippet of my interview appearing at the 4:44 mark.

Watch it here:

And you have to head over to Bluff to view the entire interview that I recorded yesterday. Check out… BLUFF Cover Story: The Doctor Is In.

Tags: 2011 | bluff-magazine | lists | Music | Pai Gow | politics | sahara | sports | Vegas | videos

By Pauly
Las Vegas, NV

I once befriended a hooker.

That didn’t come out right. I should say that… I once became chummy with a call girl.

OK, now I’m really starting to dig myself a hole and my girlfriend is ready to grill me with a thousand and one different questions. Let me clarify even more… I had become acquainted with a high end call girl from New York City. We never actually met officially. Just lots of emails back and forth. She was an avid reader of my personal blog, Tao of Pauly, and a sometime commenter on Coventry Music. She seemed rather ordinary with one exception… she had sex with men for money. She did make any excuses about it. She enjoyed sex and had no problems selling herself. And her cookies weren’t cheap.

Her philosophy was simple. Society was hypocritical and pointing fingers at prostitutes when they were all prostitutes themselves.

Look, we’re all whores at some time in life. Some of us less, others are more. Sure we might not be taking it in the ass in the literal sense, but who among us hasn’t been royally fucked over?

If you ain’t a pimp, then you’re a whore.

I didn’t say that. Neither did Shakespeare or Bob Dylan. It might have been Ice-T or Ice Cube, Pete Nice from 3rd Bass, or one of the crew from Wu Tang? I forget exactly who, but the source of the quote doesn’t matter as much of the simplicity of the underlying fact of the statement. It actually goes back to something I have written many times before… we live in a use and abuse society. If you ain’t using someone, then you’re getting abused by someone.

Pimps and hos. Royalty and peasants. The haves versus the have nots.

No matter what city I lived in, or what industry I worked in, I’ve always come across a section of people who will do nothing short of trying to exploit you. It’s the nature of the game of life. Politicians do it all the time — they use us to get into office and once that happens they will keep using us to stay in office. They’re not really looking out for our interests, rather, they’re concerned with their careers, their legacies, and paying back the juntas and companies who funded their campaigns to begin with. To the puppets in DC, we’re that cute piece of ass that they want to nail… and will do anything possible to get us in the sack. Once the deed is done… that’s it. They are going to fucking sleep. The worst thing is that they didn’t even pay you. You did it for free.

Big Business entities are the most ruthless pimps on the planet. Come on, you don’t actually think they care about your well being and compensating you for what you’re really worth? To them you’re just a number. If they could outsource your job or hire an illegal Mexican… they would. That’s why it’s important that you’re are the ideal employee in their eyes — to be blunt — a fuckin’ sheep. Otherwise, you have to be truly talented and indispensable. That’s the only way they will put up with your bullshit and demand for higher wages.

A couple of years before the drugs war exploded in towns along the US/Mexico border, I first heard about the feminicidios… horror stories about scores of missing young women who were later found raped, murdered, and missing body parts. During my first visit to Juarez, Mexico I noticed pink crosses at the side of the road. I asked my friend from El Paso about the origins of the pink crosses and she clued me in on the feminicidios. The crosses were memorials constructed at the sites where dismembered bodies were discovered.

The feminicidios began in the mid-90s and escalated through the millennium. Some religious feared that the missing women were part of ritual killings during fin de siecle. A few journalists were had a theory the murders were the evil doings of the worst serial killer of all time. Law enforcement types suggested the murders were a precursor to the drug wars. The exact number of feminicidios varied from 500 to 5,000. Who knows for sure how many women died?

Many of those murdered young women shared something in common — they worked at maquiladoras — or massive sweat shops and factories for international corporations seeking dirt cheap labor. I read one theory that bus drivers were the ones doing the killings. Most of these workers had to be bussed from Juarez city center to the factories. When the girls refused the sexual advances of the bus drivers, they were raped, killed, and tossed out like a piece of trash.

However, the most compelling theory is the most haunting. One journalist suggested that the young women were killed because they were getting out of line at the work place by demanding higher wages and better working conditions. When they attempted to unionize or stand up to their bosses, they were quickly “removed” from the factory and never seen again.

What really happened in Juarez in the 1990s and early 2000s? No one knows for sure. My grand hypothesis is that combination of all of the above, but specifically the theory about the factories killing off workers who showed any dissent. After all, when was the last time the mutilated corpse of a “Yes Man” was found on the side of the road?

Ruthless suits don’t resort to those gruesome tactics in the American workplace… yet. But more and more we’re learning every day what happens to good citizens who are fed up with the system, unplugging themselves from the Matrix, and demanding their true rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Unfortunately,it’s easy to upset the herd when you roam the other way. Anyone outside of the box who decides to march to the beat of a different drummer is an instant target for ridicule. Our fear mongering society is quick to point the dissenters out to authorities. Once the federales get involved, who knows what happens next.

Yes, we’re mostly a world of whores. Some of us grow up to be pimps, which is sort of like the lesser of two evils. Sadly, that’s the supreme goal in life… to be the one exploiting a stable of prostitutes… instead of being the whore, turning tricks for peanuts.

In the end getting paid is still better than doing it for free. Sure, I write plenty of stuff for free on my blogs — probably close to one million words — but that’s all part of a greater master scheme to get you to buy my books.

So kids, just remember that only sluts do it for free. Pro whores do it for the paycheck.

Please leave your cash on the dresser before you go.

* * *
Buddha preaches tolerance, compassion, and forgiveness. But the Big Bald B never had to deal with the infantile jerkoffs I’ve encountered in poker that tainted the WSOP.

I have a simple rule when I’m working — if I can hear you over the background music that is played at a reasonable volume, then you’re loud are therefore annoying me and eligible for an asshole fine.

God knows, well Buddha knows too, that when I start compiling lists of people I want to handout asshole fines to — then I’ve lost all grip on Buddhism, which in essence is losing all faith in humanity. I can only deal with people depending on my philosophical leanings of that day. When I’m an existentialist or nihilist, then I either don’t believe in or don’t care about humankind. Right now, I’m in between philosophies of life, so it’s a prickly stage. Ergo, why I have the sudden urge to impose asshole fines to nimrods and fucktards at the Rio.

When I go out partying on Phish tour, my friends came up with the concept of a “Wook Ticket” which is a fine you levy against someone who is doing incredibly stupid shit, committing party fouls, or acting shady in any other arena. Shit, we even give ourselves tickets as a joke, but also as a reminder we need to remember to have fun, but in a semi-responsible way.

I wish I had the balls (and the free time) at the WSOP to hand out asshole fines and “Tampon of the Day” awards. I know a few people who’d be racking up fines and tampons all summer. When I worked on Wall Street, if you complained about something too much you’d get “Tampon’d” or simply put, if you walked away from your desk to go to the bathroom or to a meeting, then you’d come back only to discover that someone taped a maxi-pad to your computer screen. I’m sure some of my readers find that offensive and sexist. And it is. But your daily goal was simple — get through the day without killing anyone (especially yourself) and make sure you don’t say anything that will warrant a barrage of tampons attached to your screens.

I’m at a rough spiritual point, something that always happens three weeks into the WSOP. Luckily, I’m my own boss and call the shots, so I’m counting the hours until embed myself with hippies for a three day music festival on July 4th weekend (a much need R&R before the Main Event). The festival experience is grounding in many ways and restores my faith in humanity and community. Spending the summers in Las Vegas dodging temptation around every corner and writing bullshit about the glorious pursuit of fame and power that is fueled by greed often warps my brain. It seems like every summer is like Dante’s Circles of Hell for me as I drop out of purgatory and lose complete sight of heaven.

And it’s when I get sucked out of purgatory and spit out into the hell’s furnace that I lose faith in people. Michalski used to give me guff that I was a “people hater.” He was half-joking, but noticed that I had an unyielding disdain for a significant amount of people. To clarify, I dislike a small group of certain people, but quickly write off anyone who happens to be a malicious parasite, or a black hole for negativity.

One of my biggest flaws is that I used to give people second and third and fourth chances. But after a while, I realized all of this Buddhist tolerance, compassion, and forgiveness malarkey is a load of horseshit. The act of forgiveness allows assholes to continue to act like assholes.

I would love it if assholes actually thought: “Shit, I fucked up, but I got a second chance, so I’m gonna try harder and be less of an asshole.”

But in reality, it’s more like, “Hahahah. I acted like an asshole and got away with it. Guess what? Now I can act more like an asshole because you’re a pussy and a pushover. You’re letting me take advantage of you, so I will continue to be an asshole.”

When I come to those realizations, man oh man, my blood boils. That’s when people I would normally shine on and turn the other cheek will evoke the wrath of my ire. Instead of letting them walk all over me, I will stand up and call then out for their douchebaggery.

One of the most important things I learned in life is that you have to stand up to bullies and assholes every once in a while. Because let’s face it — an asshole is not going to be less of an asshole because you call him/her out on it — but, they definitely will become a bigger asshole if you let them get away with it.

I try my best to avoid going on people tilt. When Buddha’s teachings couldn’t help me, I turned to generic Vicodin, Percosett and other painkillers. Man, of man, did those little white pills help out immensely. The biggest jerkoffs and tools that I knew all of a sudden became Mother Theresa. It’s funny how an opiated feeling makes you more tolerant of assholes.

I’ve often referred to Xanax as “crying baby repellent” during plane trips. Well, along those lines, painkillers is “asshole repellent” because when I gobble up fistfuls of pharmies, then and only then, I can be around the worst of the worst because I’m at eternal peace and can’t feel a fucking thing.

It took me over 30+ years before I figured out that family gatherings are a lot less hellacious when I’m faded to the tits on opiates. A few self-righteous readers will chastise me for my unconventional behavior because I’m relying on an unhealthy coping method in order to deal with these people, but my counter argument is this — I don’t have a substance abuse problem when these assholes are not around. Ergo, I don’t have a drug problem, rather I have a people problem.

Most of the year, I do what I can to avoid undesirable people. But sometimes, like family holidays and difficult working environments at the WSOP, I am unable to avoid contact with said undesirables. Asshole avoidance is impossible. So, you either have to be proactive and attack the assholes by reminding them that they are indeed assholes, or make the conscious decision to kick their ass. Alas, I’m a lover and not a fighter. The last time I threw a punch was during a bar fight in Argentina a few years ago. I don’t intend to use violence ever again — unless the assholes I’m railing against continuously fuck with my friends and loved ones.

I have been seeking out a peaceful resolution and want to coexist with the undesirable tilt monkeys, but when I’m unable to channel Buddha, I numb the pain with synthetic opiates.

No wonder the pharmaceutical companies, Big Tobacco, and the beer makers/booze producers are so fucking rich, because they sell three escapes that the masses turn to when they are overrun by assholes — which happens to be everyday.

I used to love poker, but I’ve let a few assmunchers ruin what used to be a perfectly good time. The world is getting weirder and weirder every fucking day. Life is too short to let those fuckers win. It’s time to start thinning the herd. Asshole fines will commence immediately.

It’s time to start having fun at the WSOP again.

Tags: amazon | black-friday | Degens | dresser | ept | greed | news | Pai Gow | phil ivey | Podcast | world-series

By Pauly
Las Vegas, NV

A very special episode with Kevin “KevMath” Mathers. We discuss an unusual topic.

2011 WSOP – Episode 17: WSOP Fashion Report with KevMath (5:10) – Pauly chats with KevMath, who is a self-described “fashion expert.” The two compare and contrast the different styles of clothing worn by members of the media. KevMath also reveals why he won’t wear shorts.

For more episodes, visit the Tao of Pokerati archives.

Tags: 2010 WSOP | atom | doj | doyle-brunson | facebook | Music | philosophy | Poker News | politics | rio

By Pauly
Las Vegas, NV

Call it a coup d’etat.

Never mind the Brits, here come the French. First, it was ElkY. Now, it’s Elie Payan. The amateur from France played in his first ever WSOP event, and guess what? He shipped the bracelet in Event #22 PLO. The $1,500 buy-in was the Donkament version of PLO and largest ever PLO tournament in the history of the WSOP.

Le Ship It!
Photo courtesy of WSOP.com
PLO is a dangerous game. It’s like being a weekend cocaine user who all of a sudden gets turned onto freebasing. Kids, you don’t want to try this at home unless supervised by an adult. PLO is a game that is only for trained professionals and known drug fiends.

Four cards? Let’s gamboooooooool.

PLO is an action junkie’s wet dream. If you can stomach the mammoth swings, then you have a an outside chance of being a decent PLO player, because at worst, you’re never that far behind your opponent. That’s the only reason why most people don’t play PLO — they simply can’t handle the swings — both financially and mentally.

PLO tournaments are even more brutal than cash games, because if you get felted (which will happen no matter how optimal you play or how far a horseshoe is wedged up your digestive tract), you can always dig into your pocket for more bullets. The more bullets you have access to, the better your chances of digging yourself out of a hole. That is to say, if you can handle losing substantial chunks of your bankroll in a 24-hour period.

Fortunes have been won and lost at the PLO tables. The premier pros of the game have gone busto and robusto back to busto again all because of the tantalizing aspect of four card bingo. The biggest, baddest, mutherfuckers in poker are (er, were) mostly PLO gurus. Sure everyone played NLH because it’s the popular game and kept you in the limelight of the mainstream poker audience and in the poker media. However, if you wanted respect among your peers, then you had to measure your cock (or vagina) against the biggest of the Big Dogs. If you wanted big payday with a side order of notoriety, then sit down in Ivey’s Thunderdome and play the Phil Ivey of Poker in heads-up PLO. And not just one table… how about four or more?

If you wanted a chance of winning a half a mil in a session, then you had to go whale hunting in the PLO waters. Just a year or two ago, the biggest sharks in poker lined up to take a shot at sinking their teeth into proverbial white whale — an elusive Scandi named Isildur1 — who had no problems giving action to anyone who wanted to play multi-tables.

That’s like juggling chainsaws. And I’m not talking about throwing Allen “Chainsaw” Kessler into the air and trying to catch him, although I’d pay good money to see someone try to juggle Chainsaw with two chainsaws. One false move and you lose an arm.

* * *
Bouncin’ Round the Room…

I almost got run over by a douchenozzle on a Segway. I’ve thought about getting a golf cart, Segway, or min-cart to navigate from the Amazon Ballroom to the casino floor, but if I ever got access to a vehicle, I would drive at a safe speed in order to not hurt any pedestrians. Too bad the selfish dickhead that ran me over (along with a half-a-dozen others) in the hallway did not adhere to “safety first” rules. I don’t mind older folks on those mini-scooters, because after all, they are in the twilight of their lives or have medical conditions and need a scooter to be mobile. But a Segway? Talk about a self-indulgent. Didn’t the inventor of the Segway die after accidentally driving off a cliff?

I watched Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals with Lance. He was rooting for the Bruins and I had a bet on the Canucks. I got my ass stomped. I blame that sieve Luongo. I can win a hockey bet to save my life, but luckily I dominated the NBA playoffs wagering on the Mavs heavy over the last few weeks. I gotta say, after all the money I spent at the Rio covering the WSOP (food and drinks mostly, but when you play inflated rendonkulous casino prices, all of that adds up), it felt good to actually take the Rio for a few grand in the sportsbook. Poker is tough because you’re essentially taking money from other gamblers, whereas in the pits or at the sportsbook, you have a shot at bleeding the corporate entity dry.

The single table satellites are as soft as ever. I know horrible players who have been raking in the lammers — and these are my friends, the majority of whom are horrible players. Either their luckbox powers have been humming due to the close proximity to Planet X, or the quality of play is just that fucking atrocious. Whatever you want to believe, it doesn’t matter. They are giving away free money every day inside the tournament area. You’d be a fool not to show up a few days before your intended WSOP event, to play those single table sats. Juicy is an understatement. I know one pro who has yet to buy into a WSOP event because he’s simply killing the sats.

So do you want to know the effects of Black Friday? As expected, the numbers at some of the lower buy-in events WSOP are up. The PLO Donkament was the largest on record. According to stats released by the WSOP suits, the cash games are up 11% over the first two weeks. How they figured that number out, I’ll never know, but let’s just say they are right — the WSOP is printing money this year.

I don’t have any puke stories or tales of old guys jacking off in the bathroom of Binion’s, but I did see a guy as old as Vin Scully (I kinda hoped it was the legendary L.A. Dodgers announcer) walk past the craps table with two “rented” girls clinging to each arm. Their combined age had to be anywhere from 36 to 42… and not a year older. I wonder if those working girls foolishly got paid in tournament chips?

I love it when railbirds totally get the names of pros utterly wrong. The other day, two dudes in “Affliction” shirts stood on the rail and pointed at the table in front of them.

Railbird 1: “Is that Jackie Juanda?”
Railbird 2: “No, it’s gotta be that Jackie Chan guy?”
Railbird 1: “Are you sure? It’s Jackie Juanda.”
Railbird 2: “No, it’s Jackie Chan….”
(Pause… I got caught catching me eavesdropping and Railbird 1 saw my press credntials dangling around my neck.)
Railbird 1: “Hey you work here, right?”
Your Hero: “Only, for the pure love of the game.”
Railbird 2: “Settle an argument for us… is that Jackie Chan or Jackie Juanda.”
Your Hero: “Neither. It’s Layne Flack.”

* * *
That’s it. For a quickie wrap, head over to Rise Poker and check out Change100′s Day 16 Recap.

Follow @taopauly for Twitter updates throughout the day.

Also, help support indie writers and buy my books: Lost Vegas: The Redneck Riviera, Existentialist Conversations with Strippers and the World Series of Poker, and my recently released novel, Jack Tripper Stole My Dog. Both are also available for Kindles and iPads.

Tags: boom | day 5 | entertainment | ept | full tilt | las vegas | lost vegas | Music | news | phil ivey | philosophy

By Pauly
Las Vegas, NV

We hung out in the Pavilion and recorded an episode when we railed the cash games…

2011 WSOP – Episode 15: Brickless Cash Games (4:43) – Dan and Pauly hang out on the rail of the high-stakes cash games in the Rio. They describe the bustling scene, but are a little disappointed the massive PLO cash game isn’t running.

2011 WSOP – Episode 16: Brickless Cash Games Reprise (3:22) – Dan and Pauly recorded a quick follow-up to their previous episode while they hang out on the rail of the high-stakes cash games. They spot Eskimo Clark, “Cowboy”, and other broke dicks lingering around seeking handouts from the high rollers.

For more episodes, visit the Tao of Pokerati archives.

Thanks to Wolynski for the pic.

Tags: boom | conspiracy | entertainment | games | lists | poker books | social-media | the pai gow diaries

By Pauly
Las Vegas , NV

Sin City will gobble you up and spit you out… if you let it. It’s one thing to surrender to the flow, but it’s another to dive head-first into the darkness. Even in our overly litigious society, Vegas has very few disclaimers. In short, you know what you’re getting yourself into the moment you step off the plane at the airport or cross over the city line if you’re driving from the City of Angeles. I live in LA these days, and it’s absurd to think I actually prefer the vapid, plastic city nestled on the Pacific Ocean than running rampant under the scorching lights of the Strip.

But that’s the real attraction about Las Vegas — it’s one of the few places you can get absolutely fucked up and have no pangs of guilt. As the saying goes, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas — as long as you don’t tweet about it and post pictures to Facebook. Otherwise, everyone in your collection of virtual friends will know you’re a total degen cokehead. That’s why I recommend that my friends enact a social media blackout when they embark on a Las Vegas bender. You’d really hate to wake up one day and post a FB update saying, “FML. Rolled by a hooker.” To which, seven friends give you the thumbs up.

Even the sheeple love Las Vegas hooker stories. Like.

* * *
Day 15 was one of the busiest days at the 2011 WSOP with seven total events running. It’s hard to keep up for a team of reporters, let alone one. Some afternoons, I feel like a fat guy grazing at a buffet — sampling dish after dish — while wandering around the different tournament areas. The decision to add colored sections was genius — because savvy media members often can’t find the exact tournament they’re seeking, so how can we expect players to find out where they have to go. I dunno how many times a day I get asked, “Where am I supposed to go?”

I usually give them annoying philosophical answers –”No matter where you go, there you are.”

Donkament final table
Photo courtesy ofVegas Images
I focused on the two final tables. Jason Somerville survived the Running of the Donk after he shipped the 1K NL event. He had a celebrity rail (well, if you consider Daniel Negreanu as a celeb), but the loudest group on the rail had to be the Hungarians. I know, sounds weird, but when non-Americans make a final table, the rail swells up with nationalistic pride — so if a Hun makes the final table, every possible person of Hungarian decent flocks to the Rio and cheers on their countryman. That’s why the Brits show up en masse and drink it up like it’s the Premier League Championship match. In this instance, Richard Fridvalszki, became the center of the poker universe for all of Hungary. They invaded the press box right above the secondary table and security had to be called to flush them out. Fridvalszk busted in 4th, and Jason Somerville prevailed.

The 10K Stud Championship started with two tables and Men the Master was seeking back-to-back Stud bracelets. You couldn’t miss Men the Master because he wore a disgusting mustard-yellow shirt that looked he he stole the curtains from a massage parlor on Spring Mountain and got in turned into a wardrobe. Men bubbled off the final table in 10th place and was not happy. Men unleashed a tirade in the hallway and dropped more f-bombs than Ozzy Osbourne before breakfast. I later found a shitfaced Men the Master yelling at Scotty Nguyen in the high-stakes cash game section in the Pavilion Room. I don’t speak Vietnamese, so it could have been a cordial discussion of Men’s bust out hand, but Scotty just stood there with a shit-eating grin and laughed in Men’s face.

The final table was set and included Johnny World Hennigan. I hadn’t seen too much of Hennigan, but he was one of the more interesting characters in poker before the online poker boom. Chad Brown, fresh off of cancer recovery (doctors removed a tumor in his stomach the size of a VW bug), also made the final table in one of his strongest games. But all eyes were on ElkY. The French pro is a rockstar in Korea, where they refer to him as the Phil Ivey of Video Games. ElkY looks like he could be the albino bad guy in a Fast and Furious sequel. Kev Mathers joked about ElkY’s sparkling shirts.

“How does he get those dry cleaned?” asked Mathers.

“He doesn’t,” I explained. “ElkY is so rich, he buys new designer clothes every day and then throws it in the trash after he’s done. Right now, there’s a bunch of maids who are super pumped to score garish hoodies and silk shirts with rhinestones.”

If ElkY lived in West Hollywood, he’d be mistaken as a Lady GaGa impersonator. But if he walks down the streets of South Korea, he’s completely mobbed by screaming teenagers. Who needs poker accolades when you can make women weep at the mere sight of you? That’s the stuff legends (and cult leaders) are made of.

ElkY supposedly won his first ever Stud tournament. I love it hearing stories about players playing a new form of poker — then shipping the bracelet. It gives donks like me hope.

ElkY also joined an elite group of players — Triple Crown Winners. Of course, this “Triple Crown” was created by the media, so it’s not a real distinction, rather it’s a way to quantify excellence in the major tournament series — WSOP, WPT, and the EPT. Jake Cody joined the club last week when he won a bracelet. The other members include Roland de Wolfe and Gavin Griffin.

Bertrand “ElkY” Grospellier
Courtesy of the WSOP.com
ElkY is not just one of the best all-time players from France, he’s proven he’s one of the best in the world. Sheesh, I hate to think what will happen if ElkY starts playing more non-hold’em events. When he gets to Hellmuth or Johnny Chan’s age, he has the potential to be the #1 European bracelet winner closing in on double digits in bracelets. That is, if ElkY keeps playing poker. He reached the pinnacle of the gaming world and walked away on top. Maybe he’ll get bored in a year or two and focus on becoming a world class Keno player.

Don’t you hate fuckers like ElkY that are good at… everything? He’s the type of guy who can learn how to play the violin in a weekend and by the end of the month, he’s headlining at Carnegie Hall with Yo-Yo Ma.

We need to teach ElkY lime tossing.

* * *
Bouncin’ Round the Room….

I ran into Johnny Hughes yesterday. The controversial raconteur been playing cards in Vegas for over 50 years. He always had interesting things to say about Vegas of yesteryear. I luckily got to interview him for a podcast. If you haven’t listened to him yet, check out Old School Cheats.

Congrats to The Mark, a G-Vegas legend, who finished in 22nd place in the PLO-Donkament which began on Monday. He final tabled a Circuit event in New Orleans a few months ago and his PLO run good continued with a deep run in the WSOP event. Way to represent the G-Vegas boys. You made them proud.

I saw a guy puking into his hands while walking down the hallway in front of the Player of the Year banners. I dunno if he took a wicked bad beat in a satellite, or if he couldn’t handle his booze. The WSOP and Vegas in the summer is rough. It’s not for amateurs. You’ve been warned.

Tags: atom | black friday | gaming | online-poker | pca | poker books | Poker News | sahara

By Pauly
Las Vegas, NV

I bumped into an old friend at the Rio and secured a podcast with the legendary Johnny Hughes….

2011 WSOP – Episode 14: Old School Cheats with Johnny Hughes (6:02) – Pauly sat down and chatted with a special guest — the legendary Johnny Hughes — who has been in poker circles for 50+ years. Pauly asks Johnny to share some stories about old school poker cheats and the “fear” of getting caught, which kept a lot of shady characters in line.

For more episodes, visit the Tao of Pokerati archives.

Tags: 2010 main event | black monday | black-friday | british | copyright | elky | lists | poker books | pokerstars | twitter

By Pauly
Las Vegas, NV

This is almost a “lost” episode from the other night when Hellmuth just missed winning his 12th bracelet. I was AWOL for this episode, but it features Michalski and Change100….

2011 WSOP – Episode 13: Black-Hat Bracelet with Change100 (3:59) – Dan shows up at the very end of a big poker event, and observes with Change100 the first major on-the-felt story of the WSOP. They didn’t know as they discussed the color of hats and misprinted souvenir T-shirts going to Haitian refugees that they were witnessing the only other true all-in-and-a-call situation prior to the end of a heads-up match-up between two different kinds of bad-boys several hours later.

For more episodes, visit the Tao of Pokerati archives.

Tags: 2010 main event | archives | conspiracy | doj | las vegas | news | politics | sports | Tao All Stars | twitter