Monday, February 24, 2014
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Today marks the anniversaries of Kurt Cobain's birth and Hunter S. Thompson's death. Two visionaries, both gifted with the ability to entertain and push buttons and boundaries simultaneously. As much as we enjoyed their work, we equally look for more, as if their exits weren't explicit enough. That's all folks. The fire which forged word and song, reduced to hissing ash with nothing left to stoke. For our eyes and ears, their output should be understood as good choices throughout; missed, understood.
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
A fairly small stack went all-in ahead of me. I looked down at ace/king, both clubs, and pushed my stack of almost four times the other all-in, hoping to give the small stack protection. I was pretty sure that the other all-in was ahead for now, but I liked what I saw in my pockets and thought my stack was plenty large enough to drive out any wood bees behind me. Keller, however, put a different accent on the proceedings and said, "with Marcus being such a good host and having to sit here and watch us play without him in, ...I call", and pushed his slightly larger than my stack in, and turned over two tens, while J-free, the short stack, showed a pair of jacks. Flop comes, 4-2-4, two of them clubs. Now I've got two over and a flush draw. I felt pretty good. My lots of outs never came though. The turn and the river were both blanks. Marcus had to watch on as others played through, while my big slick got sent home a loser. Still, it ended early enough to get home and enjoy some time with dad and Mojo. A replay of the Beatles 50th Anniversary special was on, so dad was rockin'. I think I played my end well, in what was my last hand, and throughout the evening; I won with bad cards and lost with good, and I hop Keller took 'em down fast and got our fine host to an early bedtime. Bastard.