Where things can get pretty igry ...Rick's Cafe Americain

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And so we list the complaints.

1. First - and most annoying - is that for the second online poker room signup in a row, someone has already taken the name Ugarte.  So I am “Ugartes PG” (no punctuation allowed).  I know I shouldn’t blame True Poker for this, but it isn’t my fault and I don’t know who the other Ugarte is, so True Poker gets stuck shouldering the blame.

2. The table is set up in a quasi 3-D, which is actually a pretty neat angle.  It feels more like a regular table, and your cards are always conveniently at the bottom of the screen.  But for 3-D to work, all of the players have to be 3-D people.  This is where it gets, shall we say, unfortunate.

True Poker gives you 15 avatars to choose from.  All are “fantasy” avatars. There is Genghis Khan, Nefertiti, Gangsta, James Bond, Robot, Link, Professor Frink, Hot Girl, Punk Girl, Bandito, Emir, Fu Manchu, and a few more that I can’t recall.  This is a poker room?  Where is the drunk frat boy?  The chain-smoking old guy with missing teeth?  The fat guy in a Marvin the Martian T-shirt?  The Asian women chattering to each other in their own tongue?  All the fantasy avatars seem so 1985.  I was stuck with James Bond (who looks like Roger Moore, but sounds like Sean Connery) because at least he has a tux like Ugarte does in Casablanca.  Ugarte was no Bond, though.

At Bugsy’s Club, each player has a simple brass nameplate.  At Poker Stars, they will import a .gif to stick in a simple picture frame.  I think both are better than the cartoon characters at True.  At least less ridiculous.

3. Did I mention that my character sounds like Sean Connery?  Yes, he does.  That is because all of the players call out their play “Bet” “Check” “Call” “Raise”.  Just when I had gotten used to the simple clinking of chips on the table, I joined a site that has more chatter than the home games I play in.  I don’t know, maybe this will grow on me.  My first impression was “if I have to hear my own brogue one more time ...”

4. True Poker doesn’t accept Central Coin, my payment method of choice, to fund my cash account.

5. The game doesn’t automatically show winning hands to the table.  I sat down at a play money table to test drive the format. I played one hand and decided that this wasn’t the best time for a test drive.  It was, I admit, was mostly my fault; a product of this simple equation:

“Awake at 5:30am” does not equal “Alert at 5:30am”

I sat down at a 3/6 table with 5 other players, one seat before the button and was dealt ATo.  Everyone saw the flop.  8-8-A, rainbow.  SB bets, a caller, I raise.  Calls all around the table.  The turn is a 7. Still no flush draws.  SB bets, a fold in front of me and I raise again. Two callers (including the bettor) behind me.  The river is a 6.  I can’t imagine that anyone is really on a runner-runner straight draw, but I still choose to only call the SB, as does the button.

The SB turns over A7, and the dealer asks if I want to show or muck.

At this time I would like to remind my readers that it is ~5:30am.  And I didn’t pick up my glasses from my nightstand when I lumbered over to the computer. 

I have never played at a computer table that gave the winning hand the option of mucking.  I understand that this is more “true” to the game so I respect the feature in a site that calls itself True Poker, but I didn’t expect it. 

And it was 5:30am!!!

I saw in the SB’s hand as two pair. Aces and sevens.  “Beats my aces,” thought I.  So I threw away my cards.  And then I remembered the eights on the board, just in time to hear the dealer push the chips to the SB saying “Two pair, aces and eights.” I had the guy outkicked and I threw away my cards. Ugh. 

I signed off, tried to go to sleep, but decided I had to write instead.

It’s going to be a long day.

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First, Ferrari.  He played in one of the WSOP qualifier tournaments a few weeks ago.  He sent me a simultaneous report, but sent it to an address I couldn’t access from abroad. I would publish it as written, except he wrote it with the expectation that it was source material, not original text.  So I will edit it lightly, but present it with Ferrari’s emotion.:

That is a good comeback, Ferrari.  Well done.  Except for the part where you invited good players to the home game.  Booooo!

My own fortunes have not been as good.  In Pakistan, my friend Paul and I sat down to “play” no limit with a buy-in of 210 Pakistani rupees (~$3.50) so I could teach him strategy regarding starting hands, etc. (yes, I was teaching not learning; no, you do not have permission to laugh).  I put “play” in quotes because after the first game we just split up the money and played again.  I lost both games.  (Those who can, do ...)

In the first game, after going back and forth for a while, I fell victim to having the second best hand and my trips went down to an unlikely straight (which was slow-played quite well by Paul).  In the second game the “teaching” did me in.  We had been showing our cards after each hand so I could talk to Paul about laying down dominated hands and I had been bluffing quite a bit, because Paul was often telegraphing how weak his hands were.  When my JJ became a set after the flop, Paul was in no mood to believe that I had anything and he called my all in bet with nothing but Ace-high.  That Ace was a spade, however, and there were two spades in the flop.  Then another on the turn.  And another on the river.  Paul’s flush put him in the lead, and he won on a forgettable hand (that I have, in fact forgotten) shortly thereafter.

I also played two NLHE SNGs last night and neither went well.  In the first (5+.50), I bet into someone on the river (I don’t remember what I had) who had hit an inside straight on the last card after a series of very poorly thought out calls all the way up to the miracle river.  Busted out in 9th of 9.

In the second, I played slow and steady to get myself in medium chip position with four players to go.  Up to that point I had only played two hands to the river, and had won them both.  In the first, a very weak starting hand in the BB became a baby straight on the turn and the minimal betting to that point allowed me to stick around long enough to pull in a nice pot.  In the second, after we had dropped to 5 at the table, I raised with 8♠8 before the flop and got one caller.  The flop was all small (5-7-9, I think), but all spades.  With a pair better than the middle card in the flop, two chances to hit my spade and a stack I needed to improve, I went all-in.  So did the caller, who flipped KK - but no spade.  I caught another baby spade on the river and coasted from there to where I began this recap - four players left.

I raised with K9o to steal the blinds, but got called by the BB (and big stack).  The flop came K-J-9 and I bet about 25% of my chips.  He raised to about 90% of my stack.  I’d love to hear what other people think I should have done here.  I raised all-in.  He flipped up JJ, the turn and river didn’t help either of us and I was knocked out in 4th.

Probably going to play at Coach’s place on Sunday and then at Ferrari’s on Monday. Pauly called me out, (three times!) so I have to play.  And you can read the results here.

By the way, I am mad at neither Pauly nor Coach.  I couldn’t have done anything with his wraps while I was away. Don’t take this so seriously, people.

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The game was Anaconda: each player is dealt seven cards. Pick three and pass them to your right. Then two. Then one. Plenty of opporunities to draw to a monster hand—and to screw the guy to your right.

This was a high-only game and, because it was the last hand of the night, the stakes went up to $10 per bet.  The game was 4-handed, and I drew trip tens right off the bat. Not bad if I could pair up as well, because although a boat is usually the minimum you need to win, a 10s-full house is pretty good, especially when, with only four players, I figurred the hands would be slightly less spectacular overall.

Once the passing is done, each player arranges his 5 best cards in the order he wants them revealed, and the first card is turned. I never paired up, so I folded to the first bet ($5, from Pauly, showing a K). Swish raised with a 4, and Signor Ferarri folded.  The betting was capped, and the next card turned.

Heads up, Pauly shows a 3, Swish a 4. Massive betting ensues, and the next card is turned: Pauly shows another 3, and Swish shows a blank.  Stacks are running low, but Swish reaches into his back pocket and Andrew Jackson joins the pot. Next card.

Another 3, another 4. Now, it is helpful to understand here that although Pauly’s been playing pretty tight, he’s also run some monster bluffs, and called in the face of absurdly high cards to prevail over equally bold (but less successful) bluffs, inclluding a hugely expensive one by yours truly. Swish, on the other hand, has developed a table image of being willing to see almost anything to the river, and has an erstwhile tell that may or may not be reliable anymore.

Anything could have happened at that point, but because neither of them was betting quite as aggressively as they could have been, my money was on Pauly having 3’s full, with Swish having 4’s full, with Pauly was betting that Swish was bluffing the boat, which he was—but not the way anyone thought.

At this point there’s got to be near $80 in the pot, and Pauly bets.  Swish calls, and Pauly turns over his fourth three.  Kazaam!!!  Swish sees it and looks away, clearly stunned (Swish is one of the most gracious winners and losers I’ve played with), and then, ever so casually, still looking away, flips over a 4.

Everyone went nuts.  We were high-fiving all around.  We might have been a little punchy at that point.  But all I can say is, Swish’s play was Oscar-worthy, and I am so glad I didn’t make my full house!

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1) So WHAT if the Jews killed Christ.  WASN’T THAT THE POINT??  I mean, I’m no theologian or anything, but if Christ hadn’t died . . . well, I think you see where I’m going with this.  So, the next time you see a Jew, I want you to stop, doff your pointy white hat, and say: Thank you, Jewish person.  Your spiritual ancestors killed the Son of God so that I could be saved.  Then give him a little kiss, right on the horns.

2) Get some help, you antisemitic little fucker.

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The White House seems more worried about the public’s finding out how much it knew and how little it did before 9/11 than it does about identifying and fixing security weaknesses.

It is a triumph of chutzpah for Mr. Bush to thwart the investigation into 9/11 at the same time he seeks re-election by promoting his handling of 9/11 and scaring us with the specter of more terrorism. He’s even using 9/11 memorials as the backdrop for his convention in New York.

The White House seems more worried about the public’s finding out how much it knew and how little it did before 9/11 than it does about identifying and fixing security weaknesses.

It is a triumph of chutzpah for Mr. Bush to thwart the investigation into 9/11 at the same time he seeks re-election by promoting his handling of 9/11 and scaring us with the specter of more terrorism. He’s even using 9/11 memorials as the backdrop for his convention in New York.

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The WSJ article cited to by Dawn begs the question: why can Colin Powell, son of Jamaican immigrants, call himself African-American, but Teresa Heinz, who was born in Africa, can’t?  The answer is, because the term has been co-opted to mean something other than what it literally refers to.

“African-American” has come to replace “black” in common parlance to refer to those people who have inherited the dark (pun acknowledged) legacy of slavery, either by descent—or, more commonly—by operation of the bigotry that continues to exist in the wake of emancipation.  It refers to Africa only in a very attenuated way.  Many—particularly hip hop fans—will remember the emergence in the ‘80s of what I will call “Africanism”—the adoption of African themes and cultural signifiers as a new “black” identity.  This Africanism, and the term “African-American”, are only tenuously connected to the actual continent of Africa—what they represent is an attempt to create a new, positive cultural identity for a group of people whose history in this country is one of undeserved degradation and shame.  But in the end it is neither truly African nor truly American.

Witness, for example, the “African American” man who’s DNA never saw the Dark Continent.  And, of course, the lily-white ketchup heiress born in Mozambique.  Which of them is truly “African American”?  What about the white man whose parents and grandparents were born and raised in South Africa?  Or the great-grandchild of slaves whose skin is just as white?  Or my friend, the first-generation Brazilian-American whose skin is as dark as that of my other friend, the first-generation Nigerian?  The Brazilian almost certainly descends from slaves, while my Nigerian friend descends from (unenslaved) royalty.  To many, they are both “black” (or to the more polite but equally simple-minded, “African American").

So now I see two problems:  First, if we accept this (ambiguous) definition of “African American”, then what do we call people from Africa who most clearly don’t fit that definition, like Teresa Heinz?  White Africans?  Second, and as underscored by the hypothetical answer to my first question, what is the effect of this appropriation of the term today?  With miscegenation and globalization blurring the biological and cultural lines between peoples, does it make sense to keep trying to draw lines where there should never have been any in the first place?

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