The Poker Project (playing and writing about poker in the U.S.)

you can do it bob, i once waited 15 minutes of questions from fellow classmates angling for internships to ask dick army if you enjoyed the family guy joke about him

he ignored the question :(

loldraconian grammar police confirmed. I've been thinking about what to request on my conference lanyard, and I clearly need to go with MLA IS EVIL

fyp 😀

hey, don't sleep on at-first-glance post-menopausal frumpies

I'd be surprised if the MLA is anything other than a hornet's nest of sublimated anxiety and rage—like the cardroom population but with bigger words?—and I hear everything you're saying about the Haterade-guzzling bloviators who will likely be in attendance. At this point the MLA is beyond parody, and I've been out of touch with what's going on in English depts for a long time. I assume most of them are still glorious dumpster fires, and if you want to bask in some absurdity I recommend this oldish essay about

https://thepointmag.com/examined-life/pilgrim-tinder-creek/

The Point Magazine

Pilgrim at Tinder Creek | The Point Magazine

My interest in going to the MLA is probably similar to why I visit cardrooms: I find people interesting, and I hope to learn something.

lawd hep me

Thanks for the rec. Odds that I watch a YouTube overview of The Landscape of History: 20-1.

I think I remember reading in the chat thread about your own book coming out soon. Congrats!

nice probability calc Dr.! First things first: lol @ me having a Diamond card. That aside, a mostly accurate assessment, I'd say, aside from the likelihood of me attending their panels. The ones I linked to are the ones I'm planning on going to, and I might teach Cyborg Manifesto/posthumanism in the near future, which is a good reason to obsequiously attend Donna's talk.

My conference outfit is really starting to fill out.
MLA IS EVIL lanyard? Check.
Harrahdise recruitment T-shirt? Check.

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Just caught up. Immense respect as always.

Over the years, I think you've developed a really impressive rhythm to your description of games that captures the mixture of long-playing, steady beats and the constant in-and-out as seats are emptied and filled, emptied and filled.

Was in a relatively small one-day conference with Haraway once. Stunningly impressive thinker for 4+ decades now.

And, as always, the Herculean (Sisyphean?) efforts to win these bets is fun to follow. RUN IT BACK! RUN IT BACK! :devilface:

Gearswitch ... Dunno' if you talked about _Double Down_ here, but seemed like some others may enjoy the convo, so ...

Spoiler has context.

* I asked everyone I could who was part of the 1950s+ Houston socialite scene (it's not a lot of people, but it's more than 2) for stories about the Bartheleme's. None, other than confirming that Donald was a difficult human.
* It's a frustrating memoir, as they are digging around something powerful that links grief, money, and a massive (Freudian, in some sense) shadow of their father that looms over them. But they never quite get to the middle of the oreo.

Congrats on getting out of jail ... for now ...

finally got around to reading that essay and loving it

how can you go wrong with passages like this

an undertitle related to this mantra would be pretty sweet don't you think gman?

Thanks, mang. Yeah, I'm under contract with UVA Press and delivered the manuscript just before Christmas. Should be going to the copy editors even as we speak.

Thanks for checking in JRR. I was at Harrahdise for some of the night, which is only a few blocks from Bourbon, but fortunately I was long gone by 10pm. Obviously very sad and you can feel the sadness in the city.

Annoying Reg

Friday at 5:30, and I’m sent to the same table as yesterday, 9, and the church lady I’ve played with yesterday is here too, in the same red floral shirt. Sliding into Seat 6 on her direct left, I eye her 1916 Zulu Social Aid and Pleasure Club card protector.

Behind us, flanked by the blackjack tables and sportsbook, is the Bigs Boys Game, filled with the usual suspects. A few minutes ago, as we were waiting for seats, Mike G told me he wanted to play $5/$10 but didn't care for certain players in that lineup. Told me how a few weeks back one of the friendly recs had bet big and one of the sniping rounders was tanking. The rec said, Here, I’ll do you a favor, and showed him his cards. The sniper got livid and said, Don’t ever make a decision for me. I make my decisions.

For two dealer changes I’m dealt out of the game. Don’t want to be here. Maybe I can table change or just ride this out.

I’m disappointed to see an annoying reg arrive dressed as usual in his same ridiculous outfit: fishing hat, green military vest atop a Hawaiian short-sleeved shirt. He’s in his sixties, tight-aggressive, disdainful of others’ play, and wannabe-witty: more reason to table-change, but still I stay put. “Some people say it’s immoral to take a fool’s money,” he says from the 2 Seat. “I say it’s immoral to let a fool keep his money.”

The joke—or quip, or whatever it is—falls flat. “Five players,” Dealer Brandon deadpans as he spreads a flop, “and one smart guy.”

I raise from EP and get called, the annoying reg 3! and we both fold. A few orbits later I open again from EP, he 3! again, as I’m thinking he says, “you can’t let me keep pushing you around.” I call, the flop comes low, he snap-bets. I feel an unpleasant burning in my chest—annoyance that might lead to tilt. I remind myself that his speech play is almost definitely strength, at bottom he’s scared money in LAG’s clothing. I fold and as he drags the pot he says, smiling, “no shame in folding.”

A little later he bumps it up from UTG, I 3!, flop 89T, check, I bet, he looks like he’s going to call then he folds. “Almost fell for that bet,” he said.

A little later and an old white guy who's been doing a lot of limping raises to $15, I call ATcc from EP, 6 of us see a 9c5c9s flop, action checks to me, I consider betting but check. Action checks to the annoying reg who stabs for $35, action folds back to me, I make it $110 and he snaps. There’s $310ish in there and he’s got like $400 back. Turn 3c, I $75 and he snap shoves. I wait a few moments to make sure he doesn’t have big chips, Dealer Darlene starts counting down his stack and he says aggressively, "Are you calling or what?" I wait another ten seconds, wave Darlene off from a precise count, and toss in a calling chip; he proudly flips 98dd. This is the moment for me to fastroll or to say, You’re behind. Instead I say nothing. I wait for the river to come clean—it’s the Ks—and show the winning hand. His face falls. "Nice hand," he says softly, and I tap the table. It takes Darlene three pushes to ship me the pot of mostly reds and a few greens. I tip her two reds.

“That’s all for me,” he says, starting to pack up. He puts away his water bottle covered with the The Simpsons and Jazzfest stickers, gets up, and tells the table with a forced smile, “Nice playing with yall.”

Later on, the youngish white guy in glasses from the previous night, the guy I stacked 54ss > A2ss with my straight flush, is at the registration desk. He was here earlier, sitting beside one of my pals, and I didn’t go over to talk to my pal because I didn't want my presence to remind him of the huge pot he'd lost. I’m rooting for him to go to another table, but instead he sits on my direct left. Again I consider saying something like, Hey man, sorry about that pot, so sick. Instead I say, “How’s it going?”

“Hi,” he says, and we retreat into a tense, neutral silence. After another few orbits I rack up.

Can't recall, we're you trying to win a bet by getting in a certain amount of sessions in 2024? Over the break I once put in 3 straight days of 1/3 NL, and even though they were all fairly short 3 - 4 hour sessions, it was... a lot.

Gcluelesslifebalancenoob,enjoyingthestoriesG

It's a motivation freeroll for me. Pretty sure he made it, but he's making sure to slowroll me!:p

1916 Zulu Social Aid and Pleasure Club - this sent me down a 4 hour rabbit hole reading about that club, then mardi gras, then old private clubs in the us, then atlantic city and the real life nocky johnson (because there was a club there that they founded/frequented or something) and i still have another 20 unread tabs awaiting me

fml

It was a 2 minute rabbit hole for me once I saw it wasn't the kind of pleasure club I was thinking of.

Ah, a 500 hours goal? I think that is a decent sweet spot for us rec players. I was averaging about 550 a year, which is probably a bit too much. Last few years I've barely been breaking 400, although my guess is this year I might aim for about 450.

GcluelesslifebalancenoobG

Yeah, 500 hours. Started in June though, so half a year.

oh hi there, is this still you waiting for your gee?

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cliffs?

or this?

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free copy of Discipline and Punish next time you're in Nola!

I did a 250 hour challenge Jan-May and ran it back Aug-Dec for another 250. It does seem like a reasonable amount for recs, although still probably too much for me.

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bunch of old white boys who used to march in baggy pants at mardi gras saw a blackface vaudeville act with straw skirts and we're like "oh boy that's the ticket!"

so they discarded the pants and put on black face and the grass skirts and called themselves the zulus and just to top it off they decided to throw coconuts instead of beads - these coconuts have caused a lot of injuries over the years - including fracturing the skull of an infant

over time, they grew into being more of a social club and started dabbling in charity and had a brief low period where black face was not cool anymore but then the blacks were all like "nah this isn't blackface to insult, this is just mardi gras fun" and then blacks started joining and now it's a mostly black group today

i then started looking at other private social clubs and realized many of those out east would never in a million years accept me whereas a lot of others in the west and midwest would just so long as i brought the checkbook - was a sobering reminder of closed off parts of society that i could probably only crack by becoming the president, a general/admiral, or the local mayor/governor and pretty much nothing else

there are some pretty old press clubs and athletic clubs though and frankly i think the idea of having a hangout where you can play pool, sit in on a poker game (most have poker rooms/tables) and then go to the gym and get a schwitz at the sauna is not a bad idea if the monthly dues weren't out of my budget

Fire Alarm

5ish on Saturday, I hop in a $1/$3 by the sportsbook and then quickly move to $2/$5. The lineup looked promising but now that I'm here not so much. One of the tryhard regs arrives shortly after me and buys in for the min, pretending to be a newbie. Not max cringe, but close. The guy I stacked with a straight flush is here too, sitting on my right in the 2. He gets stacked again when, after three-betting and then checking an Ace-high flop, his opponent, a drunk or high or at the very least wobbly tourist, bets big with a pair of Deuces and binks a Deuce on the turn. After getting stacked the 2 Seat says nothing, reaches into his backpack, and reloads for three purples.

The Cardiologist, a Big Boy superreg, arrives and stacks a young hoodied-up Black woman, AK > AT, and she's gone. “First hand,” Tryhard says.

“I’m only down 3k for the weekend,” the Cardiologist replies. Tryhard switches into reg mode and they launch into a postmortem of last night’s $5/$10.

Ten minutes later Moe Blue, another superreg, saunters up and there's more gladhanding and chatter about getting a $5/$10 going. Years earlier, back when I often played with the Big Boys, Moe would wander over to my $1/$3 game and give my shoulder a squeeze and ask if he could put my name on the $5/$10 list. I'm reminded of how, with their smaller player pools, higher-stakes games have a more familial vibe than the peasant stakes.

Around seven the fire alarm goes off, two blinking white lights and an annoying BEEP. BEEP. BEEPing in the back of the room. “Everybody put your chips in here and follow me, Dealer Darrell says, smiling and tapping his tip box.

The 2 Seat gets into a preflop raising war with another reg, a southern bro in the 8 seat, who shows AA which is good. The 2 Seat leaves, and I haven't seen him since.

We do our best to ignore the alarm but it continues for twenty, thirty, forty minutes, then it mercifully stops. I take a quick pee and water break and when I’m back the Biggest Boys have gotten their wish: a $5/$10’s going in the corner, with Tryhard and Moe and the Cardiologist and Junior and Bradley and a reg whose name I don’t know, although I've seen him around for years. Now the Owl, an old white guy with a hooked nose and bushy white eyebrows, is in the 1 Seat, and on his right is Will, a chatty bald white guy sipping a Paradise Park. Our game still isn’t good, but at least it’s chattier. “We’re rare birds,” Will tells the Owl. “We’re not in jail, we’re not hooked on heroin, and we went to Louisiana public schools.”

“See, nowadays, they have weapons in school and they shoot each other up, but we just had fistfights after school,” Seat 4 says. Another white native Louisianan. Sixtyish, ten or so years older than Will, but a good twenty years younger than the Owl.

“During,” Will says. “During, middle, and after. And before.”

“All my schools were in good neighborhoods,” Seat 4 says.

“I bet you went to Jesuit, or Curtis, one of those big-time private schools,” Will says.

“All my neighbors did.”

“I went to public school, baby. As public as it gets.”

“Where’d you go to high school?”

“Scottlandville.”

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. “Here we go again,” Will says, taking another sip of Paradise Park.

if you want to go full nerd, James Gill's

https://www.upress.state.ms.us/Books/L/Lords-of-Misrule

upress

Lords of Misrule

and By Invitation Only a good documentary by a woman who grew up in one of the exclusive all-white krewes

In the Corner

Sunday a little after five pm, I’m sent to a secluded $1/$3 game on Table 11, where they usually put the donkament players. At first I consider table changing, but the action is splashy as we get started. The 6 Seat, a Spanish guy in a Raiders hat who’d I’d seen minreraise pre with Queen-Eight, rips $350 into $150 on J72 and his opponent, an old Black guy wearing a checked gray flannel in Seat 4, snaps. The board runs out Five, Jack, and the Spanish guy’s pocket Sevens lose to the Black guy’s pocket Jacks. “Man!” Dealer Vu says, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head. “So close!”

I’m talking to Amber, the classic sassy redhead, chatty and polite and a little edgy, it seems. Can’t tell if she’s flirting with me. She’s a nurse living in Pensacola, used to be a dealer at KoJack’s in Midland, is wearing a glittery rainbow shirt that matches her big glittery purse. She examines a white chip and observes how clean it is. Seat Four cackles, and tells her the only reason is because the chips are only a few months old.

“I dare you to Google “What’s on a poker chip?” Dealer Adam says.

Dealer Marc arrives and says, “yall must be the bad kids. They put you over here in the corner.”

It’s a pleasant game. Instead of simply checking dark, Seat 4 likes to say, “I missed,” before the cards come out.

“I missed,” he says for a third time. He’s in a pot against Seat 7, another old Black guy.

“I didn’t miss,” the 8 seat says, putting out a hefty bet.

As Four cuts out calling chips, Seven asks, “What you doin’?”

“Someone’s gotta pay you off,” Four says as he slides in a call.

“Do you have a flush?”

“No.”

“I do,” Seven says, excitedly showing 3Tcc.

“You mad?” Flannel asks, unbothered. He flashes a Queen for no-good trips and says, "I had the best hand. I let you get there.”

“That’s why I hate poker, man,” Seven says. “One day you’re up here—” his raises his arms above his head, then drops them—“and then you’re down there.”

by bob_124 k

if you want to go full nerd, James Gill's

https://www.upress.state.ms.us/Books/L/Lords-of-Misrule

upress

Lords of Misrule

is a great book about the krewes, esp the desegregation movement in the 90s. (pm and I can email you a copy)

and By Invitation Only a good documentary by a woman who grew up in one of the exclusive all-white krewes

appreciate the offer but i have so many "need to read" books that i still haven't gotten through yet

are you still in new orleans? i keep getting offers from a penn casino there and considering popping on over after checking out austin and the ozarks

yes indeed. I believe that the fine establishment competing for your bizness is none other than Boomtown, which is about thirty min from downtown proper (Harrahdise is, fittingly, in the heart of the city)...if you do make it down here, holla!