Everybody keeps bitching about how cold things are at the World Series of Poker this year.
Three weeks into the series, you’d think people would stop wearing shorts, sleeveless t-shirts, and flip-flops.
But hell, no!
Tony “Top Cat” Cousineau approached me this afternoon. He was shivering so badly, you’d think he was trapped inside a meat locker. His skin turned blue. The poor man looked like a corpse. He went off on me about how cold it is, while dressed in what amounted to a Speedo.
Hey Top Cat! You’re from Florida! Your idea of a cold front is the thermostat hitting the low 60s at Daytona Beach. Go out and buy a sweater! Try this — put on some long pants! Hey Tony — how about investing two bucks in a pair of socks?
I’m sick of the complaints. They’re becoming like bad beat stories.
Now, if you will excuse me I need to head off to CVS to buy some more cough syrup and over-the-counter dope. I can’t seem to shake this cold that’s been with me since the WSOP started.
Purely coincidental, I’m sure.