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Posted by on Jan 21, 2020 in Blog, Essays, Personal, Rants and Raves | 0 comments

My 2020 New Year Resolutions — Twenty Days Later

 

train crash

 

So, how are the 2020 New Year’s resolutions going?

Now so good, huh?

You’re not alone.  Here’s my 20-day update into the year 2020:

 

RESOLUTION #1: Lose Weight

People carrying a few extra pounds typically announce that they’re going on a diet when a new year begins. A week later, we’re at the All You Can Eat buffet pounding down a second slice of cheesecake.  Sure, we want to lose weight. But why kid ourselves? We’re not chasing a magic number. A weight scale shouldn’t be our barometer of happiness. Instead, our goal should be — to get healthier. To feel better. Losing weight shouldn’t be the end game, but rather one numerical consequence of striving for something higher. There are certainly ways to reduce one’s weight (so, I hear), but they aren’t always healthy. Some are even risky. Our top priority should be to enjoy life to the greatest extent possible. Sure, I’d like to drop a few pounds. But if I get through the year 2020 at 225 pounds (my current weight) and maintain my health, that’s a victory.

 

RESOLUTION #2: Travel Less

I love traveling. That is, once I get there. Unfortunately, the journey getting from point A to B is often a miserable experience. Flown lately? Been strip-searched by overzealous TSA agents? Paid nearly the cost of the air ticket for baggage fees? Been sardined into a middle seat? Sat beside the rapper yapper or the screaming infant? Leisure travel can be a tremendously rewarding experience. But traveling just for the sake of going somewhere and then returning home again is often more stressful than a typical workday spent at home. Especially if you’ve got kids or pets and have to board them (board the pets I mean). I hope to travel less in 2020 unless there’s a first-class hotel and wine involved.

 

RESOLUTION #3: Manage My Stress Better

Zen philosophy is becoming increasingly popular. I can certainly understand why. The problem with Zen is, it encourages us to disengage from challenges. I wholeheartedly reject this approach. Some things in life must be confronted. Always. Always. Always. And passion is the rocket fuel that lights the engine. Vested emotions and intensity can be a great motivator. Sorry, but Zen people don’t usually change the world. Action-minded people do. Those with passion do. I want to get fired up about life, not skate through it calmly. Forget worrying about rocking the boat. Rock the hell out of it. That’s my motto.

 

RESOLUTION #4: Drink Less Alcohol/Quit Drinking

If drinking is a problem in your life, then, by all means, do try to cut back and/or get some help. But let’s face it. Drinking serves as a wonderful bonding experience for many people. Without drinking, I doubt many people would be as close as they are. Booze is both a sugar cube and a truth serum. While this freedom can be dangerous when abused (and there’s lots of abuse), the loss of inhibitions can also be tremendously liberating. Think of it another way. I have a theory that outlawing bars (and forbidding drinking/intermingling of sexes) in Muslim countries frustrates the hell out of a lot of people, especially young men, and that’s what causes much of the world’s problems. Here’s a thought:  Open bars all over the Middle East.  Acts of terrorism would be cut in half.  Yes, I believe that. As for me, I plan on drinking exactly the same amount with the same frequency in 2020 as I’ve done in the past. I see no reason to make changes. And, to reiterate my point — some places in the world need a lot more drinking, not less.

 

RESOLUTION #5: Get Out of Debt

I’d love to be debt-free. I’d also like to be 25-years-old again and a member of the Rolling Stones. Fact is, when the date December 31st, 2020 rolls around, most of us are still going to be in hock up to our asses to the banks. We’ll still owe on our mortgages, own credit card debt, and have to beg some joker dressed in a golf shirt for a new car loan. I take a much simpler approach, a goal I can actually achieve. It’s this. Try and stop the bleeding first, which means not to take on any more debt. That’s the first goal everyone currently in debt should have, since our poor spending and saving habits likely got us into trouble in the first place.  Especially me.

 

RESOLUTION #6: Eat Healthier

I don’t believe in diets of denial. I want to eat good food and plenty of it. That means I won’t be ashamed of enjoying my large portions, my red meat, my loaded baked potato, my real butter, my rich desserts, my deep-fried foods, and pretty much whatever I want. That said, I refuse to eat fast food or consume prepackaged garbage that’s sold in supermarkets because that’s poison. And, I’ll never drink a soda, which is packed with sugar and chemicals. Never! So, that means I can enjoy just about everything else so long as it’s natural. A side note: I suffered a health scare late in 2019, so this might change — but all tests showed diet wasn’t a factor.

 

RESOLUTION #7: Be a Better Father/Husband/Friend/Son/Whatever

Sounds all warm and fuzzy, doesn’t it. The mantra goes something like this — I don’t spend enough time with so and so, which means I must change. Says who? You work hard, right? You earn the bread, right? You love your family and friends and are there for them when they need support, right? I think it’s vital to be comfortable in our own skin. You also need your time, just for you. If people get offended by the things you say or do, maybe the problem lies with them — not you. Think about that. Be who you are and take time for yourself. You probably deserve it. And there’s no reason to apologize for feeling this way, just as those you care about also deserve their own time and space.

 

RESOLUTION #8: Go Back to School/Get an Education

I’m all for learning. But getting an education doesn’t have to cost you 30 grand a year. The education lobby and the lending cutthroats have warped our sense of reality. They’re loading up millions of kids with crushing amounts of debt, and then providing few tools to escape the chains other than slaving away for years to pay off the loans (this is entirely by design). Yes, I believe people should learn as much as they can, and get an education. However, it’s far easier to read a book on your own, or become part of a social club, or join an Internet group which provides opportunities to learn just as much. And, it’s basically all free. Self-learn. Take a guitar lesson online. Get a library card.  Volunteer to coach a kid’s soccer team.  I’ve done all three.  Learning shouldn’t be a once-a-year resolution. Education should be a lifelong mission that never ends.

 

RESOLUTION #9: Donate Blood/Give to Charity

This one will piss-off some people. I’ve donated blood before. Many times. However, many blood banks (and drives) are nothing but scams. Make sure the blood you give is really going to someone needy and won’t be sold off for a profit by some medical company. When it comes to donating time or money to a charity, be sure they do what they say. And check out the salary of the head honcho running the show (non-profits are required to make this information public). Some of the biggest charities in America are detestable, horribly-managed, money-making enterprises. I give to charity when I can. But I refuse to give anything to a charity that pays fat salaries to its executives or is based in ridiculously expensive cities like New York and Washington. Move the charity to someplace where operating costs are significantly cheaper so more good can be done. The point is — give, but with greater discretion. I also volunteer, once a week.  I wish I could do more, but this is the right balance.  I recommend trying to find your own balance, whatever it is.

 

RESOLUTION #10: Quit Gambling

You’re kidding, right?

__________

 

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Posted by on Nov 22, 2019 in Blog, Essays, Personal, Politics | 0 comments

Dallas’ Darkest Cloud: Growing Up in the Shadows of the Kennedy Assassination

 

kennedy assassination

 

Writer’s Note:  Today marks the 56th anniversary of President John F. Kennedy’s assassination.  Some 19 months before that tragic day, I was born in Dallas.  My family lived in the Oak Cliff section of Dallas, where Lee Harvey Oswald also resided and was ultimately captured.  Today’s column reveals what life was like growing up in the shadows of the Kennedy Assassination.  A similar version of this article first appeared at this site in 2013.

 

I’m one of the few people alive who lived near the two most shocking tragedies in modern American history.  I say this with no sense of pride, but do wish to bear witness.

On September 11, 2001, I lived on the ninth floor of a high-rise condo building in Arlington, VA, across Interstate 395, directly overlooking the Pentagon, which became engulfed in flames that morning after being hit by a jet airliner in the worst terrorist attack ever on American soil.

Ironically, Arlington, VA is where John F. Kennedy’s body now rests.

On November 22, 1963, the Oak Cliff section of Dallas was my home, only a few miles from where President Kennedy was assassinated and an even shorter distance from where Lee Harvey Oswald was later caught by Dallas police at the Texas Theater on Jefferson.

I don’t remember anything about that tragic day in Dallas.  I was too young to have any memories.

But everyone from Dallas around that time developed a deeper sense of awareness than most of what the assassination meant.  Sometime later, we came to our own opinions about what had happened.  We carried around scars, lingering long afterward.  That terrible moment in our nation’s history even gave Dallas an inferiority complex.  It forced some of us to try and go out and prove to the world that we weren’t like the assassin at all (who was actually from New Orleans and even lived in New York City for a short time).  We weren’t “the city of hate,” as many suggested.

 

**********

 

The Oak Cliff section of Dallas lies just to the south of downtown, on the opposite side the Trinity River.  It’s considered the city’s stepchild.

Oak Cliff only a few miles away from the big banks, tall buildings, and giant office towers that eventually became Dallas’ trademark.  It’s only a short ride from far wealthier sections of the city — including Highland Park, University Park, and North Dallas.  But it might as well have been light-years from the rest of Dallas society — the privileged upper class who glanced across the Trinity River and the giant flood plain and looked at Oak Cliff as “the other side of the tracks.”

My mother and father divorced early in my life.  They mostly grew up in and around Oak Cliff.  So did many other famous people you may know.  For example, Stevie Ray Vaughn, the iconic blues guitarist, was from Oak Cliff.  Long before then, the notorious bank robbers Bonnie and Clyde hung out around the far western fringes of Jefferson Avenue.

For me, perhaps the most shocking common ground, however, is my parents’ connection to South Oak Cliff High School.  They were students at the same school where (now retired) NBA star Dennis Rodman later went and played high school basketball.  Pretty amazing to think my mother and father sat in the same classrooms as Dennis Rodman.

Today, Oak Cliff is just about all Black and Latino.  But back during the early 1960s, it was a vast melting pot of all ethnic groups.  Sort of a smaller Brooklyn.  No one seemed to have much money, but everyone got along fine.  We never had racial problems or the kinds of troubles associated with the Old South.  Although I moved away to Chicago and Albuquerque for a time (my father worked an air-traffic controller), we returned back to Oak Cliff again during the 1970s where I attended a half-White, half-Black school (T.W. Browne).  Race just wasn’t a big deal to us kids.  We even had lots of interracial dating.  Maybe the grown-ups thought differently about race than we did.

 

**********

 

I don’t remember ever seeing the actual house where Lee Harvey Oswald lived, nor do I know the exact spot where he senselessly gunned down a Dallas police officer named J.D. Tippet.  Oh, I probably rode my bike down those streets and later drove my car across the pavement where Oswald walked many times over the years.  But the passage of time is a giant eraser.  It tends to wipe out the things we don’t see.  Most memories fade slowly.

When I was a kid, I watched a number of movies that played at the Texas Theater.  One seat in the center of the auditorium was different than the others.  It was painted black.  That was the infamous seat where Lee Harvey Oswald was sitting when he was captured by police and tried to resist arrest.

Growing up, I also remember the tasty barbecue joint located next door.  It was called “Po’ Boys.”  That local dive served the tastiest sliced beef-brisket in the city, topped off with a spicy sauce, washed down by an ice-cold mug of root beer.  That was the best-tasting thing in the world when you’re 12-years-old, or 57-years-old.

Years later, I worked as a bartender at a restaurant downtown.  A husband-wife team waited tables where I worked and somehow managed to save enough money to lease the storefront where the old Po’ Boys had been and open up their own Mexican restaurant.  Their last name was — and I swear I’m not making this up — “Kennedy.”  Oh, the irony.

Whether it was watching movies or eating barbecue, no one ever brought up the name Lee Harvey Oswald, nor did we give much thought to the things that happened that awful day back in 1963.  No one that I around knew him, nor remembered him.  It was like he never existed.

 

**********

 

Some people think sports receives far too much attention in our society.  Perhaps they’re right.

But unless you’re around my age, or perhaps a little older, you will never be able to understand the significance of what the Dallas Cowboys football team meant to our city, and it’s people.  To most out there reading this who are from other cities and the fans of other teams, you have to try and imagine the terrible black eye Dallas suffered because of the Kennedy Assassination.

The worldwide anger directed at the city was (and is) completely unwarranted.  After all, the actual crowds that welcomed the President on that November day were friendly, even wildly enthusiastic.  Moreover, Kennedy wasn’t killed by a local right-winger.  He was murdered by an avowed Marxist who lived most of his life elsewhere.  The assassin also had no long-term links to Dallas, other than living in the city and its suburbs on two separate occasions.  At the time he killed Kennedy, Oswald had been living in Oak Cliff for about seven weeks’ time.

Yet, Dallas and its citizens were largely blamed as a whole for the crime of the century.

What happened in the aftermath of the Kennedy Assassination certainly didn’t help the city’s image in the larger court of public opinion.  Although the Dallas Police Department did a remarkable job at capturing Oswald quickly and linking the assassin directly to the crime with evidence that was overwhelming (within just hours), his shocking murder on national television only a few days later in the basement of the city jail by Jack Ruby, a strip club owner with ties to organized crime, made the world think of Dallas as an outpost in the wild west.

Fortunately, without intention, the NFL’s Cowboys came to deflect that image over the years.  They became good, very good in fact, at just the right time.  In 1965, the Cowboys began a record-setting string of consecutive playoff appearances.  To outsiders, they became a new symbol of a more modern city and a source of pride for everyone.  Much later, they even became known as “America’s Team.”  I think the adoration many people have for the Cowboys stems from people needing some sense of relief from the pain of those darkest days in the city’s history.  Back then, they were the shining star that allowed the city to heal from what happened.

 

**********

 

Growing up around where the Kennedy Assassination took place gives me a more sentimental attachment to the events of that day and the people who were witnesses of history.  But it doesn’t provide me with any special advantages as to suspecting who was really responsible.

After the Warren Commission Report was released, a cottage industry of conspiracies sprung up.  Some of the authors and investigators who penned various theories were well-intended, and even thought-provoking.  Others were total quacks.  In some cases, important questions were brought to light for the first time that needed to be asked, specifically about facts that weren’t covered in the Warren Commission Report.  Of course, the links between Oswald and Ruby to Pandora’s Box of possibilities — ranging from organized crime to the Central Intelligence Agency, to Fidel Castro, to the Russians — made for some entertaining speculation.

Now 55 years later, I think the evidence is overwhelming that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone — as did Jack Ruby when he shot his target in a moment of passion.  While plenty of other theories were worthy of consideration at one time, we’ve now reached the point when no additional information, nor final conclusive answers, are likely to be forthcoming.  Perhaps the real story of what happened in Dallas that day was just as it was initially reported.  That’s not the answer many people want to hear.  But the truth isn’t always the most interesting of possibilities.

That’s probably the saddest tragedy of all, that the leader of a nation could be gunned down and history could be forever changed — not by the hand of a grand conspiracy — but rather from a simple inexplicable act from a loner.

The streets in Dealey Plaza and around Oak Cliff where the assassination and its aftermath took place remain virtually identical today, just as they were 50 years ago.  But for all those who were around during that time and who remember, nothing is quite the same as it was, nor will things ever be the same again.

__________

 

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Posted by on Jul 28, 2019 in Blog, Essays, Personal, Rants and Raves | 2 comments

The Check-Deposit Scam

 

 

I’m holding a check in my hand for $6,850.12.

Unfortunately, it’s not even worth 12 cents.

This makes me the latest unsuspecting target of a popular scam that’s been going on for many years called the “Fake Check Deposit.”

Here’s what happened to me and typically how the scam works.

A few weeks ago, I scanned Craig’s List for odd jobs and temp opportunities to make some extra income.  Craig’s List and similar platforms allow people to post long- and short-term gigs doing all kinds of different tasks — from driving a car, to bricklaying, to joining a band, to webcam modeling.  Since my webcam modeling career is on a downswing right now, I answered an ad for a temporary chauffeur.

I sent a short e-mail listing my qualifications and also conveyed my 24/7 ability for the position.

The next day, I received a response from “Dr. Lee.”

Dr. Lee explained that he/she lived in Toronto.  He would be visiting Las Vegas to attend an upcoming conference.  Dr. Lee needed a private driver for one month.  He needed transportation between his hotel and the conference and also wanted to do some sightseeing.  His e-mail was well-written and certainly appeared that it could have come from a doctor.  Although still somewhat skeptical, I believed this job opportunity could be real.

I accepted the position which paid $800 per week, for four weeks, plus a small bonus awarded at the end of the assignment.  The pay seemed reasonable for the work and hours involved.

Next, in his follow-up e-mail, Dr. Lee explained he would need to rent a car which had to be a luxury vehicle.  He noted that he’d leased a Mercedes GLE in the past, which was an SUV priced at $53,000.  This month-long lease would be every expensive.

Dr. Lee informed me that he’d send me certified check by Federal Express.  I’d receive it the next day.  He told me to take the check, deposit it into my personal bank account, and then a few days later when funds were available to make the lease arrangements.  Dr. Lee would later provide the name of the leasing company.

This temp job started to smell fishy.

But I decided to play along.

The next day, a Federal Express envelope arrived at my doorstep.  The only item inside was a single slip of paper.  It was a check for $6,850.12 made payable to “Nolan Dalla.”

The check image can be seen in the image above.  Note that I’ve blacked out personal information and the bank account numbers.

The checked looked and felt very real.  It had a water seal embossed in the paper.  It was signed by someone, but it wasn’t Dr. Lee.  Perhaps this was Dr. Lee’s personal assistant.

I did some quick investigating.  I performed a bank account search, which can be done online within just a few seconds.  To my surprise, the bank ID number wasn’t made up.  It actually matched the name of the bank, listed as “City Bank N.A.”  The account number also appeared legitimate.  But the check also had some glaring peculiarities.

My check for almost seven-grand was drawn from a business account listed as “National Sorghum Producers.”  That company is based on a remote highway in Lubbock, Texas.  I don’t want to seem cynical, but this seemed like an odd financial arrangement that a small company in West Texas would be paying for a car and driver for a Canadian doctor soon to be visiting Las Vegas.

Here’s an image of the company from MapQuest, when I typed in “National Sorghum Producers” located at 4201 North Interstate 27; Lubbock, TX; 79403:

 

 

Well, shit.

My heart sank.  Gee, I guess I wasn’t going to be chauffering a doctor around Las Vegas, getting paid to drive a new Mercedes.

I’d been instructed to deposit this check immediately.  Time was critical since Dr. Lee was coming into town next week.  Within just a few days, my funds would be available.  I was told to keep $800 for my first week’s pay and then send the remainder to rent the car in advance.  I’d be given the details of where to send the money once I confirmed receipt of the check.

This thing wasn’t just fishy.  It was now as smelly as week-old sardines.

Dr. Lee emailed me that same day.  “Did you receive my Federal Express envelope with the check?” he asked.

I decided to play along and get clever.

“No, it didn’t arrive,” I replied.  “Maybe you got my address wrong.”

After a few back-and-forth e-mails, Dr. Lee informed me that he’d Federal Express another check which would arrive the next business day.

“Great!” I replied.  “I can’t wait to start driving for you!”

The following day, another Federal Express envelope arrived at my front door.  Inside was an identical check in the same amount.  Each “Priority Overnight” delivery cost the sender $17.50.  So, Dr. Lee was now on the hook for $35.00 in express delivery charges.  He was a doctor, right?  So, he could afford it.

“Did you get the check this time,” Dr. Lee wrote.

I waited a full day, and then responded as follows:

“Gee, I don’t know what’s the problem.  I’ve been waiting for the Federal Express envelope, but neither one arrived yet.  Can you check with National Sorghum Producers and see if they sent it out yet?”

Bada-boom!

I never heard from “Dr. Lee” again.

The scam was reported to authorities.  I also contacted my bank, which confirmed these scams do often happen.  The problem, I was told, is that some people really believe these checks are real and mistakenly think they have no liability.  The truth is — if a check is deposited and gets returned, the account holder is fully responsible for the funds.  Some banks have been known to close the accounts of people who have fallen prey to this scam, even if from naivete.  Older people, students with little financial experience, and poor people, often desperate for any chance to earn income are particularly susceptible to this scam.

Indeed, I learned the scam does sometimes succeed.  How and why?  Laws require that funds be released to customers and made available in a timely manner, sometimes in as little as a few days.  I could have done precisely as instructed — deposited the check, kept $800 as my payment, and then transferred $6,o00 to the “rental car agency,” who was actually the scammer eagerly awaiting the fruits of his heist.  By the time the check was found to be fraudulent and bounced, which might take weeks, the scammer would be long gone with my money.  I’d be 100 percent responsible for making up the lost $6,000.  Who knows — maybe the scammer really does drive a brand new Mercedes, paid for by unsuspecting victims of the fake-check swindle.

There’s an old saying that goes, “If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.”

We should all learn ways to protect ourselves.  One of the best ways to dissuade scammers is to play along and get them to invest time and money digging down an empty hole.  So, my advice is to make things as costly as possible for them.  Milk them dry, even if it’s just for the cost of a Fed Ex express delivery.  Make them pay.  Then, report the incident to proper authorities.

Now, it’s back to Craig’s List again.  Let’s see what other exciting opportunities I can find and trouble I can get into.

_________

 

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Posted by on Jul 10, 2019 in Blog, Essays, General Poker, Las Vegas | 4 comments

BARGEian Rhapsody: My 2019 Trip Report

 

 

BARGEIAN RHAPSODY

Is this the real life?  Is this just fantasy?

Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality.

Open your eyes, look up to the skies, and see….

 

PRE-BARGE REPORT

This marks my 23rd consecutive year to attend BARGE, which stands for Big August Recreational Gambling Excursion.  BARGE is an annual gathering of fun-minded poker players who meet once a year in Las Vegas.  The excursion began back in 1990 as a gambling geek squad of about a dozen.  Now, it’s far more diverse, attracting nearly 200 poker players from all over the country, and even a few attendees from abroad.  Previous BARGE gatherings mostly took place at Binion’s (the old Horseshoe) downtown.  This year was the first time BARGE was held at Green Valley Ranch, part of Stations Casinos, in Henderson. BARGE events are spread out over about a week.  This year’s BARGE took place from Monday, July 29th through Sunday, August 4th.

This year, I tried something new.  For the first time, I solicited investment capital so I could play in more poker events than usual.  I raised enough funds to play in six official BARGE events, in addition to having a sufficient bankroll for cash games, tips, drinks, and the occasional sports wager.  Betting sports — otherwise known as my bailout insurance.  I named this high-risk investment fund “BIG FISHH.” What this meant was, BARGE 2019 was practically a freeroll for me.

Imagine:  A total freeroll to hang out with my best friends, drink as much as I want, gamble as much as I want, bet on any sporting event with the fund’s money, eat fine meals, sing my heart out, and laugh my ass off.  Not a bad deal.  Great work, if you can get it.  

The following trip report is lengthy but is by no means complete.  I encourage readers to learn more about BARGE by visiting the official webpage HERE.  Note that our group not only welcomes new members;  The fact is, we need new people.  So, please — give us a look.  Joining us is as simple as signing up to the BARGE email list and registering for the next ARGE-related event.  I promise you’ll get more out of the group than you put in.  BARGE is a vast reservoir of interesting people having fun while playing poker.  It’s what poker should be. 

Trip reports are a tradition which has become part of poker folklore.  We’ve had former world poker champions as members.  We provided fodder for the infamous “Tiltboys.”  Trip reports are a fun reflection on good times among good people.  I confess that this is my first trip report in at least ten years, so I intend to make this one really count.  Moreover, I feel compelled to share far more this year than usual since my backers are entitled to know where their money went.  So, here it goes.

The following narrative contains a daily diary in 100 bullet points.  If one bullet item bores you, then skip it and move on to the next.  These bullet points of BARGEian Rhapsody contain my general thoughts, stories, and investment updates.

TOTAL INVESTMENT FUND (MONEY RAISED PRE-BARGE): $2,280.

[PHOTO CREDIT:  Rodney Chen took the photo above of this year’s BARGE gathering, which was taken during the Main Event last Saturday.]

 

NOTE:  I did NO EDITS in this report.  Unless something is glaring, don’t bother me with corrections.  Thanks.

 

__________

 

DAY ONE REPORT

[1]  We Don’t Need No Stinkin’ Badges!” — Within five minutes of my arrival, organizer emeritus Kevin Un is standing near the main entrance to the GVR poker room. Sharon Goldman walks up to Kevin, jokingly yanks down his BARGE badge attached to a long stretch string. Kevin instinctively looks down, and Sharon then (accidentally?) snaps the badge like a slingshot which blasts Kevin across the face in the rudest bitchslap BARGE evah! Kevin looks shocked. Sharon is speechless and then apologizes profusely. I can’t believe in all these years, no one has pranked anyone with the badge, until now. Reminds me of the old locker room whip-the-towel prank.  Don’t try this, people — it’s dangerous. And if Sharon approaches you, run away!

[2}  Yummy Gin Rummy from Kenny — Kenny Shei approaches me once inside the poker room and presents me with a glorious bottle of HA’ PENNY IRISH GIN. Kenny visited Ireland earlier this year and thought of me, and brought the gin back all that distance. I’m nearly in tears. Really, I’m overwhelmed. That someone would bring me a gift from the other side of the world is very touching. This generosity embodies the *spirit* of the BARGE community. Coming together. Renewing old friendships.  Making new friends. Honestly, I didn’t even know the Irish made gin. I’m looking forward to sharing Kenny’s generous gift at the first-ever *Gin Tasting* seminar, hosted by Patti Beadles. Thank you, Kenny!

Postscript:  I finally get a chance to try Kenny’s gin on Sunday, which is discussed later in this report.

 

[3]  BJ Champion! — Kasie Young is shown in the photo above. Doesn’t she look great!  And, guess what? Kasie attended BARGE for the very first time this year, and she won the first tournament she played! Kasie won the BJ Tournament. See Kasie posing proudly with her BJ trophy.* Kasie is the wife of my dear friend Eric Schneller, who also attended BARGE for the first time this year. Eric also cashed in his first tournament. Hey, who the hell invited these two people?

* oh, BJ stands for blackjack — sorry for any confusion.  This politically-incorrect joke was cleared in advance with Kacie and Eric.  I’m prepping my readers for a gradual slide into an R-Rated report.

[4]  Who Wants the Pot? — My Six-Handed Dealers Choice Mix tournament begins. Before cards fly into the air, I get asked if I want some pot. Seriously.  I’ve never smoked marijuana in my life, but it’s perfectly legal now in the state of Nevada. Some BARGErs do enjoy a little harmless refreshment, from time to time, and it’s certainly far better for the body than the ravages of alcohol. I decline this tempting offer, appealing as it may have been. I even get offered something called a “Gummy Bear.”  Gee, I don’t think that’s the candy I remember as a kid. But if you are into that sort of thing, we have some connoisseurs of the trade within our midst. When you hear “poker pot” they might not always be talking about the cards. Light ’em up!*

*All smoking takes place outside the poker room, of course.

[5]  Making Up the Rules As We Go! — We’re playing Dealer’s Choice Mix, which is something like 25 different poker games, each called in rotation by choice as to who has the button. It’s interesting to observe who calls what game, and how strong-weak each of us is in certain forms of poker. I have trouble keeping games like the 2-7 Triple Draw Badugi Split completely straight in my head, since I so rarely play any of these games. But I’m hardly alone in my confusion. Eric Schneller, who really was a pro poker grinder for years, is sitting in the tournament with the Official BARGE Rulebook sitting in his lap. Funny optics, seeing Eric yell out “I RAISE!” as he’s thumbing through the rules on Badaci. Bagugi and Badaci split games are way my weakest games. Pot-Limit Omaha and No-Limit 2-7 Lowball Single-Draw are my best games, which may not be saying much. Of course, I get crushed on my best games and win in the games I’ve almost never played before. Dumb blind luck, I guess.

[6]  Running on Empty — This REALLY happened. First-time evah! I ordered a JWR/soda/twist from the cocktail waitress. Her name is Brandy. So, Brandy returns a few minutes later. I reach for a chip and hand her a dollar toke. She takes the chip and merrily walks away. A few minutes pass, and I realize Brandy took my tip but didn’t deliver my Johnny Walker! Now, that’s a helluva’ angle. Getting tipped and not even bringing the drink! Damn! Brandy returns a few minutes later and realized she “forgot” to give me my drink. Come to think about it, I look waaaaaaay worse in this story, don’t I? I tipped the waitress and didn’t even notice coming up empty.

[7]  Sucks to Lose to the Gone Guy — Jeff Deitch is so damn good, he didn’t show up but still outlasted half the field! Jeff was in Seat 6, and gradually got blinded off. He said he found a party elsewhere and decided to skip this tourney. So, we played 5-handed instead of 6 at our table for at least three hours. Well, half the players were eliminated by the time Jeff’s final chip went into the pot. Now, that’s what I call “talent.”

[8]  Watch Out for the Quiet Guy — While most of the room is littered with BARGErs, and while our group has invaded just about every cash game table at GVR, I notice Michael Brennan sitting in a sappy game with a bunch of bored-ass fossil logs who don’t seem to be having any fun at all. Michael is splashing pots and stacking chips like a madman. I walk up and blurt out, “Hey, you’re the only BARGEr in this game.”………Michael snaps back quietly, “Shhhhhhhh, I’m perfectly fine with that,” as he cocks his head and does his best Cheshire Cat look. Bravo! Ahh, the economics of redistribution in action!

[9]  It’s Official! — I was card dead for three hours but played with extra patience that otherwise would have knocked me out of any other tournament. In other words, my dumb old self probably would have busted out midway.  But instead, I have investors to protect.  Playing for backers *is* extra motivation. Somehow, I finished in the money, made the final table, and cashed in sixth place. My payout was $315. Sweet! The official results were as follows:

1 Deron “ADB Neon” Brod $1,320

2 Alex “Maverick600” Ziselman $990

3 JP “Mr. M” Massar $750

4 Dean “MrBookworm” Kerl $605

5 Becca “Redbird” Kerl $460

6 Nolan “ADB DARKSIDE” Dalla $315

7 Sean “oscar” McGuiness $220

8 Guy “Grizz” Berentsen $140

[10]  Deron — My Best Brod — I’m soo proud of Deron Brod. The 11-year BARGE vet won the tourney, which was so well deserved. Deron played like a shark, and even went card dead for a while, but still took the trophy. A big hand happened when 10 players were left and the game was No-Limit Five-Card Draw. I was dealt K-K-T-T-X and didn’t improve on the draw with my two pair. JP James P. Massar with the biggest stack in the tourney was dealt T-T-6-6-X and didn’t improve his two pair either. Deron was dealt a 7-high straight, which tripled up and catapulted him near the chip lead. I was just as impressed with JP, who took a horrible spot there, was low on chips, and then still managed to finish in third place.

[11]  Keep an Eye on the Kerls — Dean Kerl and redheaded wifey Redbird Becca Lynn the dynamic husband/wife duo finished 4th-5th in the tournament, making the final table for the first time in a BARGE event together. That’s two cashes already for Redbird (she would end up with a record FIVE cashes this year). Dean cashed in the WSOP main this year ($15K plus). Oh, and Dean knocked me out of the tournament.  Dirty Bastid.

[12]  I’m Out! — My elimination hand was interesting. Called NL 2-7 Single Draw as my game. Was dealt a pat T-6. Shoved my stack. Remember, blinds are high. Dean in small blind snap calls and has me covered. Shit! Well, now what? Dean doesn’t hesitate. He stands pat. Now, I have a tough decision to make. With my tournament life on the line, I decide there’s no fucking way Dean is doing with a J-X. At worst, he’s got a T-X. And he’s probably got an 8-X or 9-X. I’m in a bad spot with my T-6, as the lowest hand wins, with 7-X being the idea low. I decide to break the T-X which is more difficult because I have four fewer outs than I would like. My hand is T-6-5-4-2. So, if I catch a 3, I’m screwed since the straight counts against me. Now, I only have 12 outs, perhaps 14 with two extra T’s, but certainly, some of those cards are counterfeited. I’ll look like an idiot standing pat and losing. So, I ditch the Ten and draw a king. Bummer! Dean shows T-8 which means I would have won a huge pot, had I stood pat!  Faaaaaaawck!  I still think I made the right decision, but I might be persuaded I was wrong. Still, a fun tournament, indicative of BARGE which is fun but also VERY competitive.

Now, for my updated results:

Day One — Gross Profit +$315

Minus Expenses:

BARGE TOKES (to dealer) — $33

COCKTAIL TOKES — $12

TOURNAMENT TIP — $25

TOURNAMENT ENTRY FEE — $140

NET RESULT: +105

Up + $105 for the day, heading into Day 2!

__________

DAY TWO REPORT

[13]  Wednesday is a disaster. There’s a day tournament and then a night tournament.  I whiff them both and go zero for 2. My investment fund is now -$225 in the red. The first tournament was uneventful, Busted about midway through. The second tournament was far more frustrating because I had a chip lead at one point and then played poorly, making several risky decisions that were totally unnecessary. So, it was a long painful unprofitable drive home and a moment of reflection. I can’t say there were any low points of BARGE, but this would be it from an emotional and financial standpoint, especially since I blame myself for poor play in the night tourney.  Nonetheless, BARGE continued to be a blast! How often can you say in poker, “I lost, but I had a great time!” Well, that’s BARGE.

[14]  The day began with me writing my report, posted to Facebook at 10:28 am. Somehow, I then dressed and showered (not necessarily in that order), hit the highway, and was in my tournament seat by 11;13 with a fresh cocktail in my hand. Chris Mecklin — a.k.a. Tom Bayes — ordered a greyhound….err. the drink, not the race dog……in remembrance of the late great Gavin Smith, and I had to join that fitting tribute. Gavin was the BARGE champion in 2003, which was my favorite BARGE year because I was working at the Horseshoe at the time. Gavin, who passed away in Jan. of this year, also did a fabulous job as BARGE banquet speaker, only a few years later. It was nice to remember Gavin as being one of our own. BARGE history is rich in characters and memories. Funny line from Chris as he chugged Gavin’s favorite drink: “I don’t even like these, but it seems kinda’ breakfast-y.”

[15]  The day tournament was PL-HORSE, which means the rotation of games normally played in a limit format, juiced up to pot-limit. Although I didn’t fare well, I REALLY liked this tournament. Every decision became really consequential. Cool thing about the BARGE events is the wide variety of games on the menu, which changes every year. I hear so many people say they are sick of Hold’em.  Well, I got just the remedy.  Sick of the same ole’ NLHE games with boring people and jackasses in hoodies with their faces buried in their cell phones? Fuck them!  Come — join us.  We don’t know how to play these crazy games either!

[16]  A Really Cool moment: Gerald Peterson and I were talking during the tournament. Learned that this marks his 25th straight year. Not sure who holds the record, but that number is certainly up there.  John Reed — are you the all-time Lou Gehrig of our group?  Edmund Hack I think is also in the 25+ year club.

[17]  Don’t try this at home. Most everyone talks at the table. That’s the way we roll at BARGE. Problem is, sometimes that can lead to a mistake. Since the games change, you MUST pay attention to the placard, with the game displayed. About an hour into the tournament, one of the players at our table misread the game. It had just changed over from Stud-High to Razz, which means instead of highest hand winning, making the lowest hand was the goal. The player got all the way to fourth street and fumbled in a pot-sized bet, before realizing his trip tens in Razz wasn’t a very good hand. What an idiot that player was. Oh, the name of the player won’t be disclosed to protect his identity. However, his initials were N.D. and he was drinking a greyhound as the insistence of Chris Mecklin.  What a fool.

[18]  I love talking to BARGE people. Sabyl Cohen Landrum comes in late to our table. She’s an attorney practicing for a non-profit who does lots of amazing work for economically disadvantaged people in the Bay area — poor people getting screwed by landlords, and lawsuits like that. I ask Sabyl more about her work and she shares how tough it can sometimes be, but also reveals that it has its rewards. This is but one of more than a few conversations daily that make the group so interesting.  There’s not much of a story here, but it shows that every moment is a chance to gain something and learn something new.

[19]  Patti Beadles hosts her amazing “Gin Tasting” party and seminar in a huge hotel suite, stocked plentifully with food, and top-flight gins. During our tournament break, I grab a few BARGErs and we run-up to the suite, raid the food cart, enjoy Patti’s gin, and then storm out the door and go back downstairs to return to our seats within 10 minutes. Funny thing was, we were rude as fuck to do that (crashing the party) but everyone totally understood. Hell, they would have done the same thing!  So, I lasted just long enough in the tourney to miss the gin party.

[20]  After busting about four hours in, I head over to my favorite Las Vegas seafood place, King’s Fish House, which is walking distance from the casino.  Our party of four explodes like a refugee camp on the Chad border and we eventually top out with a full table including Kevin Un, Eric Schneller, Michael Brennan, (his wife Courtney), Caryl Aronson, and David Aronson. The Trout Almondine is every bit as good as I remember. Thanks Eric, for picking up my portion of the tab!

[21]  At our late lunch-early dunner, Kevin shares some worrisome news concerning one of the great BARGE people of all-time. Monte Christensen didn’t make this year’s BARGE. He was diagnosed with tongue cancer nearly a year ago and is currently undergoing treatment. All cancers are serious, but this one is really serious.  Monte has had a profound influence on my life (I’ve written about this in the past and will relate more about this another time). Monte is just one of those larger than life personalities, almost too big to absorb. His stories of high-stakes gambling, and getting thrown out of casinos are legendary. I know all BARGErs are thinking of Monte at this time. If you can swing it, I suggest sending him a message on Facebook occasionally.  I think he’d like that.  He’s been one of us for more than 20 years. Fortunately, Monte is one of the toughest fucks I’ve ever met. Cancer is gonna’ lose this one, if Monte plays his A-game. And Monte ALWAYS plays his A-game — in blackjack, in poker, and in life. Man, fuck cancer. We love you, Monte Christensen.

[22]  Bob Ogus just has a way about him that makes you want to strangle the man. He drew out on Rich Bremer on some big hands, where Bremer practically stomped out of the room like a wild stallion. I recall Bremer has a MONSTER BARGE last year (I think) where he won a few events and cashed like 3-4 times. So, Bremer was on his way to immortality before Ogus played the Ogus card. Funny thing about Ogus is, when he drags that huge pot, he kinda’ looks at you like “what the hell were you doing in the hand?” when he was 10-1 dog and hit the four-outer. A word of advice: Do not ever try to bluff this man!

[23]  Question: How many BARGErs does it take to change a _____________? I haven’t figured out a punch line, yet. So, I’m putting that out there. Our night tournament starts at 7 pm and I’m seated at a rule-sticky nit table. Cards barely flow. We can’t see the board (bad table location). Everyone is arguing. Stoppage. We even had to call the floor a few times. This disaster is a precursor of what’s to come.

[24]  The tournament is a rotation of limit poker games. I run good for about three hours. In fact, I have what appears to be the chip lead with about half the field of 80+ eliminated. I’m in a perfect spot, it seems. Then, I turn into an idiot. BADACY is a game I’ve covered when I worked at the WSOP, but I don’t know the game particularly well. I’m dealt a pat 8-X four-card Badaci one three straight hands. Seriously.  Three times in a row, a marginal “pat” hand.  What do I win for finishing second three straight times?  Well, I manage to go from chip leader to the felt in like 12 excruciating minutes of hell. What to I do with the dumbass game — pitch the Badaci? Should I draw to an 8? I could have nested on my 50K in chips with blinds at $3K per round and waited for a game I knew better, but I get fish hooked into disaster with these morsels of shit, better known as the 8-X Badaci. My chips get ripped up like red meat in a wolves den. Final hand, I’m sitting on A-2-4 Badaci, with THREE draws. All my chips are in the pot in a possible triple up hand with Kenny Shei and Peter Caldes — aka Taki.

First Draw–Paint.Paint. 

Second Draw–Paint.Paint. 

Third Draw–Four.Four (for trip fours in a lowball game)

Andres, the Austrian BARGEr from NC is laughing his ass off and I blow up and spill my Perrier in frustration. I stomp out of the room like a wild stallion. Hey, where the fuck is Rich Bremer?  I have a story to tell him!

[25]  David Croson is an economics professor at Michigan State. I think that’s a university up north somewhere.  The team I’ve lost lots of money betting on.  Dr. Croson came into BARGE about the same time as I did, back in 1996. Croson is so much fun but also so interesting. I always perk up in my seat when Croson makes a post because I’ll probably learn something and he might be correcting one of my errors. Anyway, Croson has just arrived in the room and brings me a bag. He has smuggled contraband into the poker room! A criminal!  No, it’s not pot.  It’s better than that.  Croson read my earlier report about CVR serving shitty wine, and my desire to work around the restrictions with, let’s just say a “little creativity.” Croson has bought me a stainless steel flask and a beautiful bottle of Guy Mousset Cotes du Rhone. Cotes do Rhones are my favorite wines, and Croson has clearly done his homework. I’m thinking — in the coming days, if you see me with a large flask, you won’t get a taste of my “Diet Coke.” I’m not sharing. Except with Croson. Simple economics — keep your friends close and your gift-master closer. Thanks, Dave. Really cool gesture. I will enjoy that wine.

Postscript:  I’m about to open it now while writing these reports.  Thanks again, professor!  

[26]  Grizz, who looks exactly the same NOW as 20 YEARS AGO, and I make an iron-clad man-pact. If one of us wins BARGE 2019 Main Event, we are ordering top-flight champagne. Mark it down. Hell, order it! I have faith in Grizz’s poker game, more than my own.

Postscript:  I made the Main Event final table.  But I didn’t win.  Grizz still came through, as you will read later.

[27]  Jeff Deitch didn’t bother to show up for the Tuesday night tourney, and got blinded off but then played in the Wednesday “Oklahoma” tournament, and managed to win it! Apparently, he took a break from the dope-smoking for a few hours enough to waltz in, play, and win a trophy. What’d he do to celebrate, smoke a bag of heroin?  Afterward, I asked Jeff if I could mention his affection for the natural herb. “Yeah no problem, go ahead — it’s kinda’ already out there,” Deitch snapped as he hoisted his trophy and then mysteriously headed out into a dark corner of the East parking garage for some odd reason.

Okay, so he didn’t really head to the parking garage.  That would have been a violation of Green Valley Ranch’s guest policy.  Wink.  Wink.

[28]  One of these times, just fucking once, I’m going to stick my hand under the faucet in the public restroom and the automatic “eye” will actually fucking work and I’ll get WATER on the first attempt. I have faith. It *has* to happen. It’s just pure odds. One time! One time!  After today, I think I’m on an 0-67 run with the working water auto-faucet.

After a good day on Tuesday and a bad day on Wednesday, the BIG FISHH investment fund is now stuck.  My updated results are:

Day Two — Expenses:

— Tokes (to dealers) — $35

— Tokes (for cocktails) — $15

— Tournament Entry Fee — $280

NET DAILY RESULT: – $330.

PREVIOUS FUND STATUS:  +105.

NET OVERALL RESULT:  – $225

Finally, in tribute to organizer emeritus Peter Secor here’s a cool photo from Wednesday.  He’s the best of the best, folks.

__________

DAY THREE REPORT

[29]  It’s Thursday and here’s a question:  What’s up with the Amish-looking women?  In a casino?  I’ve lived in Las Vegas for 17 years.  I’ve seen everything in this city.  Naked people walking down the street.  People vomiting on BJ tables (remember that one, Larry Greenfield?).  Elvis impersonators.  People in restrooms doing blow.  But until this day I had never seen the religious sect that keeps women living in the 1700s with Mayflower-era bonnets on their heads wandering around a temple of sin.  I’m talking about packs of them.  I have no idea if they’re really Amish, or not.  Later, this mystery is settled when Bruce Kramer and I walk into a restroom and see a man who is with the Amish group, who’s apparently part of some multi-level marketing scheme.  “They’re really into it,” the man said as he shook his dick at the urinal.  By “it” he meant some sales scam like Amway.  I have no idea what the product was, but the Amish women apparently drank the Koolaide.  Fucking Capitalists have even ruined the Amish.

[30]  The tournament starts at 4 pm, which is Pot-Limit Omaha, my fave game.  I really feel good about this one, especially since I play it the most and final tabled last year’s BARGE PLO event.  I learn that Jacob Rieck (Bingo’s son) has entered.  He’s playing the first legal poker live poker tournament of his life.  He’s even seated at the same table as Bingo!  Naturally, we have to sweeten the pot.  I take $40 out of the investment fund and pay all of Jacob’s dealer tokes.  Dan Goldman, always one to match generosity, decides to do the same, which means the dealers are getting double-tipped with Jacob rakes a pot.  I announce Jacob’s foray into the BARGE madness and the room gives him a rousing welcome.  BARGE will be in good hands and has a very bright future if we can attract a few more all-around good people like Jacob to attend.  Fortunately, I get to spend some time with Jacob in the coming days and am really impressed.  There’s a joke in there somewhere about Bingo as his dad, but I’ll bypass the easy target and just say these two are the quintessential personalities of BARGE.  I have a dollar for anyone who can ever tell me a time when they saw Bingo angry or in a bad mood.  See me at next year’s BARGE.  I won’t believe you.  Oh, and Bingo, a.k.a. Don Rieck is the defending BARGE Main Event champion, too.  I snapped this picture as the appropriate spot.

 

[31]  The Things You Learn at a Poker Table! — How the hell did I not know this?  Bob Gilbert, from the Boston area, owns a wine store!   Oh, and he’s a Harvard Law grad, but who the fuck cares about that?  It’s the wine, baby!  I ramble on about cheap wines at the table in a 15-minute conversation, and then I learn Bob owns Andover Classic Wines, which has got to have some expensive as shit stuff because it’s Boston.  Was really cool hearing about the wine and liquor trade from Bob, which only enhanced the Pot-Limit Omaha enjoyment.  Too bad I didn’t last so long.

[32]  Early on, I triple up on a big hand against two suckers.  Then, Alex Z. joins our table and I tangle with the other big stack, which isn’t advised.  A huge hand comes up about four hours into the PLO tourney where Alex raises pre-flop.  I’ve got one of those cutesy hands that can break somebody easy…..T-T-9-8 double sooooooted and of course, the person who gets broke is —– me.  Flop a set of tens.  By the turn, I jam, all the money goes in, and Alex ponders the call.  I like this.  A lot.  He calls with a flush draw (straight draw too, I think) and bam!  Gets there.  Nolan exits two hands later.  Fuck me.  Has to be Alex, too.  Which stings extra.

[33]  During the early breaks, I rush into the sportsbook to get down our first sports wager of the BARGE trip.  First NFL pre-season game.  Gotta’ fire!  I’ve capped this game until my eyes were blue, and have Denver as a lock to win the game.  So, it’s worth $280 of the fund’s money to win back +$200 going off at -140 on the moneyline.  Atlanta, the opponent, has lost 11-straight pre-season games with this head coach.  He doesn’t give a Falcon fuck about pre-season, while Denver is breaking in a new staff and offense.  Broncos roar to a 7-0 lead and I don’t even look at the TV again until the 4th quarter where I see the shit Broncos have fallen asleep and the Falcons have taken a 10-7 lead.  Fortunately, my “LOCK” comes in with a late touchdown, which of course, I totally foresaw in my pregame handicapping.  Final score:  Denver wins 14-10.  Sweet money.  This sports wager takes some of the stain of the PLO loss for the day.  I’ll take a win any way I can get it.  Here’s the winning ticket:

 

[34]  Randy Collack has organized a Thursday night dinner outing to Nataya’s Secret Garden, one of my favorite restaurants in the city, and very close to where I live.   I didn’t plan on attending.  I expected to go deep in the PLO tourney.  But the cards have a funny way of making sudden dinner plans.  Bruce asks if I want to join, and remembering that Thursday is HALF-PRICE bottles of wine at Nataya, that becomes the tipping point (yeah, my friends are great — whatever).  Seriously, it’s hot as fuck outside the small and always packed restaurant, so Bruce orders a great wine from Alsace, the glorious Gewurtztraminer (perfect for Thai pairing).  I usually like my alcohol alone and never with food, but we end up enjoying five marvelous bottles at our table (assorted selections, including a nice Paso Robles red, and a crispy Souv. Blanc from NZ).  I hate long tables because that means missing out on the other half of the table conversation, but this feast has no shortage of talkers, with our end consisting of Randy (who never has an opinion about anything), George Wattman, Jeff Siegel, MickDog (Michael Patterson), et. al.  Things are more than civil.  Great food and people and conversation.  Afterward, Deron Brod and Mickdog pile into the SRX and we head back to GVR.  I can’t say often than busting out of a poker tournament had a benefit, but this dinner more than made up for the disappointment.  Oh, and even with appetizers, main dishes, and wine, it came out to like $60 per person.  What a deal!

After being stuck after Wednesday, Thursday looks to be mostly break-even.  My updated results are:

Day Three — Expenses:

— Tokes (to dealers) — $20

— Tokes (for cocktails) — $10

— Tournament Entry Fee — $140

— Sports Bet Winnings — +$200

NET DAILY RESULT: + $30.

NET OVERALL RESULT:  – $195

__________

DAY FOUR REPORT

[35]  Friday is a blend of agony and ecstasy.  Confidence wise, I had high hopes for smashing tournament success this year after cashing in the first event of this year’s BARGE.  But since then, I’ve gone 0-3.  And now, I’ll be bitterly disappointed if I strike out on these final two events and end up with a lackluster batting average.

Today is Friday.  This is always the longest BARGE day, for several reasons.  Certain to run at least 18 hours with all the planned activities, with no break time.

The TOC is the perfect recoup event.  The TOC is a mix of three games I’ve played way too many hours than I care to admit.  It’s a little more prestigious since this is our customary BARGE Friday event.  The TOC stands for “Tournament of Champions,” a mixed-game tournament created 25 years ago by Poker Hall of Famer Mike Sexton and Chuck Humphrey (a former BARGE champ).  BARGEr Matt Matros, who has won three WSOP gold bracelets and has a new poker book soon coming out, final tabled that first year which was televised.  Our group essentially stole took the concept and made it our own.  This is a long way of saying — I really, really, really want to final table this tournament.

[36]  Let’s end my suspense.  I bust out about 18th, six spots from the money.  What an emotional ballbuster.  Nonetheless, I felt really good about the way I played.  Can’t say I made any serious errors.  It just wasn’t in the cards.  In other words — that’s poker.  So, now I’m on a four-tournament losing streak.  Yuck!  As for positives, Scott Byron won this year’s TOC.  Scott and I go back more than two decades together when every Hold’em player in Atlantic City used to know each other.  I’ve played tons of hours with Scott.  He was one of BARGE’s first breakout players to enjoy success on the poker circuit.  Scott later worked for many years (some with me) at PokerStars.  Much respect for Scott and congrats to him for the victory.

[37]  One interesting conversation among out table during the TOC is the throwback feel to BARGE — and this event in particular.  Since it’s a *limit* format until the final table, that creates even more table conversation.  There’s a snowball effect.  Perhaps this has a lot to do with the fact there are almost no smartphones in use during play.  This is so damned refreshing.  I’m a guilty violator of the smartphone invasion that has overtaken live-action and squeezed the fun out of the game, as a constant social media hound.  But to now play in a tournament where people actually talk, and look at each other, and follow the action in the proper turn, is a real breath of fresh air.  It’s like it’s 1996 all over again.  I can’t stress enough how much more enjoyable this made the game.

[38]  I’ve arrived at bullet point 38 and I didn’t even mention other BARGE events such as the Sushi outing organized by Asya Kamsky (I don’t like sushi, so don’t attend), the golf outing (which I passed this year because there just wasn’t enough time or energy), the fun run (ibid), and so many other activities that make BARGE so diverse.  It’s not just about poker.  One thing for certain is — there’s no time to be bored at BARGE.  Hell, there’s no time to sleep!

[39]  I need to whisk up a winner in sports betting today.  Since the tournaments are going south for me, we need to get more aggressive with our investment fund.  I’m not on tilt, not quite yet, anyway.  But that’s a serious possibility if things don’t reverse themselves.  So, Bruce Kramer and I head into the GVR sportsbook searching for the lock of the day.  I already have the Texas Rangers pounding the Detroit Tigers in my data set (don’t ask about my data set, or I will have to invent something).  The kitties have lost 33 of their last 40 games.  This is the worst team in the majors, right now.  Trouble is, Texas is laying a whopping -240 and they’re the fucking Rangers.  I decide this is no matter since the Detroit pitcher is garbage.  Bruce suddenly becomes a baseball capper in front of my eyes, and smart-ass yaps back at me…..“I know this is unheard of, but have you ever considered PASSING on the game when you see a bad line?”  See, I told you.   Bruce and I argue back and forth for five minutes, which makes me eye-roll why I invited him along in the first place.  Okay, so Bruce talks me out of betting on the Rangers.  Instead, I opt for a wager on the Minor League Baseball team from Oklahoma City.  Don’t ask.  I just had this feeling.  Like an itch.  The Oklahomans are playing the Las Vegas local team, called the Aviators.  I think Chuck Weinstock took a group to the game this night, so this must be an omen.  It’s surely a sign from above.  I’m not getting suckered into the local team, so the betting contrarian in me comes out and I place a $110 wager on Oklahoma City.  I didn’t watch the game, of course.  Hell, I won’t even watch the World Series of Baseball.  Somebody posted on the Facebook page my team was up 4 runs, blew it late, the game went into extra innings, we got a run in the top of the 10th, only to see disaster strike when some lowly .179 hitter smashed a three-run homer to win a meaningless game, except for the fucking $100 I blew on those assholes.  The only reprieve I have is that I didn’t watch it.  Okay, so it’s only $100, but now the investment fund is starting to get buried.  That leaves one thing to do……sing!

 

[40]  I lasted in the TOC until about 9 pm, when I finally busted out.  Fortunately, sometime earlier they gave us a lengthy break to attend the symposium and Calcutta.  So, I took full advantage by having a nice quiet dinner with Bruce and his lovely wife Shirley (A BARGE veteran in her own right) at King’s Fish House.  I order the usual, which is scrumptious.  I planned on passing on the symposium (no reason specifically) but then curiosity got the best of Bruce and I.  We didn’t mean to invade, so we quietly came into the conference room and sat in the back while Adam Pliska, the CEO of the World Poker Tour, spoke to a packed and attentive audience.  I don’t know Pliska well, only met him a few times, since he played on the rival team when I was heavily involved in poker.  It was a strangely emotional experience for me listing to the last 20 minutes of Pliska, who turned out to be a marvelous speaker and gracious guest.  I have less than zero interest in the business side of poker and any rumor mill these days, and in fact, I find the topic personally distasteful.  Pliska’s speech was the first real exposure I’ve had to the heights of poker in more than three years (I haven’t watched a single minute of poker on TV since).  I must say, his stories and positive energy did move me in a way I wasn’t expecting.  I’ll just leave that there for now.

Bruce, thank you for picking up my meal at King’s.  Since you talked me out of a winner on the Rangers, who won the game and then you bought me a meal, I’m letting this one slide.  We’re even.

[41] Charles Natkins, a.k.a Chic and I are teamed up on the Calcutta like two wild horses swimming across Lake Mead.  We go for the princely sum for $100.  That means I get to buy back my action for $25.  Here’s the guy I’m teamed up with (another damned attorney)……inspires loads of confidence heading into the Main Event tomorrow, doesn’t it?

 

[42]  Peter Caldes a.k.a. “Taki” informs that he’s brought a gift for me.  Caldes is 100 percent Greek heritage.  Like Zorba himself.  What’s that old saying, “beware of Greeks bearing gifts?”  Well, Peter Caldes obliterated that myth.  I love Greeks bearing gifts, especially Taki.  He presented me with a boxed set of my favorite wine in the whole world — Chevrey Chambertin.  CC is a wine commune in the Côte-d’Or area of France located in the Bourgogne-Franche-Comté region.  The CC wine appellation is known for producing robust and full-bodied wines, which are also full of complexity and sophistication.  My review pending.  I received vintages from 2016 and 2017 courtesy of Peter.  Accordingly, I made a pact that I’ll share one bottle with Peter during his next visit to Las Vegas.  I’m not sure about the other bottle, which mysteriously seems to have disappeared in the week since BARGE ended.

Thank you, Peter.  I came out really good this year at BARGE.  A bottle of gin from Kenny.  A bottle of Cotes du Rhone from David.  And two one bottle left of the Gevrey Chambertin to share with you when you make your return.

[43]  It wasn’t planned.  But it was planned.  I’ve marveled at Becca’s voice for years at our annual karaoke fest.  However, until this year I never had the chance to sing with her.  Not once.  Karaoke started as an impromptu sing-a-long at the Golden Nugget coffee shop on the graveyard shift about 15 years ago.  Somehow, Sharon and Dan Goldman, Peter Secor, and the rest morphed this into an actual party — complete with our own private conference room, a full bar, and a DJ.  Some of the BARGE performers are remarkably good.  Scott “Samarai” Samarel played the sax last year.  He was amazing.  Eileen Mulligan again played the violin, which was incredible (she can do almost any kind of music).  And Kevin Un customarily entertains us with an original song on guitar, which leaves us both laughing and in tears.  Then, there’s always a few surprises.  A few weeks ago, Becca agreed to support the investment fund with a couple of shares and in a short email I expected to go nowhere, Becca and I agreed that we would not only sing together during karaoke, we would also go full regalia blast.  Becca said she’d wear her wedding dress (which still fits!) and I climbed into a double-breasted tuxedo that’s been hanging in the closet begging for a chance to breathe.  We selected two songs (actually, Becca gave me a list and we settled on these), one modern and the other more classical.  We agreed on the timeliness of the “Best Original Song” Oscar Winner, “Shallow” written and performed by Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper.  Then, we closed with Andrew Lloyd Weber’s “All I Ask of You,” from the musical Phantom of the Opera.  My parts were easy.  Becca, on the other hand, had to pull off Lady Gaga and Sarah Brightman, two of the highest and toughest female voices in the world to match.  Here, I’ll let you decide how Becca performed.  I think she was amazing!

LINK TO “SHALLOW” HERE:

https://www.facebook.com/deankerl/videos/2813977111951848/

LINK TO “ALL I ASK OF YOU” HERE:

https://www.facebook.com/deankerl/videos/2818763161473243/

Thanks to the audience who made it fun by cheering and clapping.  We could feel the love.  Also, the following must be said — hats off to Dean (Becca’s super cool husband) for having no issues allowing me to perform with Becca in these two love songs.  All joking aside, I appreciate the confidence of that gesture.  Letting Becca shine in her element was a gift to me, and to everyone.

Speaking of Becca’s element, about a dozen of us retired up to the post-Karaoke unplugged and acoustic version, which was a first.  This happened because the ballroom closed at midnight.  So, we took this opportunity to do more mellow music than usual, mostly done in unison as a group, in the large hotel suite which was stocked with a grand piano.  Eileen played the violin, Becca sang and showed off her piano skills (she won a teenage piano title as the best in the state of Michigan, when in high school), and we emptied out the booze in the fridge.  That room charge is going to be through the roof.  Anyway, we did mostly show tunes, lots of James Taylor-type stuff about love and friendship.  You get the drift.  It wasn’t just special.  It was magical.  I wish everyone could experience moments like this.

When my Friday ends, it’s actually well into Saturday.  Home in bed at 4 am.  “Tomorrow” is another long day and will only get about four hours sleep.  Who’s got time for sleep, anyway?

Financially, Friday was a bad day.  But the intangible payoff of memories eclipsed any negatives.  My updated results are:

Day Four — Expenses:

— Tokes (to dealers) — $30

— Tokes (for cocktails) — $20

— Tournament Entry Fee — $140

— Calcutta Buy-Back — $25

— Tip to Rodney and Misc. — $45

— Sports Bet Loss (thanks Bruce) — $110.

NET DAILY RESULT: – $370.

NET OVERALL RESULT:  – $565.

__________

DAY FIVE REPORT

[44]  The Main Event is to BARGE what the $10,000 buy-in world championship is to the WSOP.  It’s the big dance.  The one.  Our championship.  The tournament starts at 11 am.

After a long Friday, I do manage about four hours rest, get up at 8 am, run a few personal errands, and then I’m on the highway by 10:30.  Oblivious to just about everything around me, I get on the 215 Beltway at Durango.  GVR is 9 miles straight ahead.  I should be in my seat just as the tournament starts.

About a mile down the road, I’m in the passing lane doing what I call the “Las Vegas speed limit,” which means the actual posted legal speed limit…..  plus 10 mph.  So, coasting along at 75 mph and listening to Van Morrison’s “Common One” album, the vastly overlooked 1978 masterpiece, is going to put me in the perfect, peaceful frame of mind.  One wants to come into a tournament on an emotional keel.

Without warning, the car begins making a slight humming sound.  Then suddenly, there’s no power.  I press the gas and get nothing.  The pedal goes to the floor.  Nothing.  Then, the lights on the dash light up.  Then, it’s 65, 55, 45, and as I pull off to the right in a desperate attempt to avoid blocking traffic, I get honked at by a few assholes.  The speedometer reads 45, then 40, 39, 38, 37, 36, 35……

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!

The next exit ramp coming up is Rainbow, about a quarter-mile on a flat surface.  Now, I’m coasting on the shoulder.  35, 34, 33, 32, 31, 30, 25…..

Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!

I feel like Dennis Weaver in “Duel.”

C’mon, c’mon, you son of a bitch…..go!  Go!  Move!  C’mon, where’s the fumes?  Give me fumes!  One time!  One time!  If there’s anyplace to use my “one time, it’s now.

25, 24, 23, 22, 21, 20……finally, I’m on the service road which is mercifully a slight downhill grade.  I run a red line to keep the car’s momentum in effect, hoping for enough of a roll to find a spot to park safely.  While look for a place to land, strangely all I can think of is getting to my poker tournament.  Like an oasis in the desert, I spot an industrial park which I pull into just as the car coasts to its final resting spot, completely exhausted of fuel.

I try to restart.  Ttttttttttttttt.tttttttttttt.ttttttttttttttt.tttttttttttttt.  Ttttttttttttttt.tttttttttttt.ttttttttttttttt.tttttttttttttt.  Ttttttttttttttt.tttttttttttt.ttttttttttttttt.tttttttttttttt.

Yep, I’m out of gas.  Given all the poker, the dinners, the drinks, the singing, the conversations, and the distractions, I never bothered to check the fuel gauge and the bings must have been drowned out my Van Morrison.  Blame it on Van.

Park and lock and leave.  Fuck it.  I’ve got fish to try.  I’ll deal with the car later.  Where’s my Lyft app?

Of course, in my haste, I never bothered to re-charge the smartphone.  the phone has like 2 percent battery life.  I get just enough juice to make one quick request and I pound the confirm button just as the phone goes black.  A Lyft driver pulls up 5 minutes later (what a deal this Lyft is! — someone should write about that).  By this time, it’s 11 am, cards are in the air, and I’m climbing into a fucking Lyft car in an industrial park in SW LV about 20 minutes from the casino in a cold sweat.

I tell the driver not to drive but to fly and he manages to get me there by 11:15.  I’m in my seat by 11:20, perspiring like a farm animal.  Wonderful way to come in focused into the biggest poker tournament of the year, for me.

And so, my BARGE Main Event begins.

[45]  I didn’t take many notes.  I’m not into hands much.  I did that kind of reporting for 20 years in big tournaments and now just kinda’ rebel against it.  I don’t even like talking about hands.  But, given the course of events, I have to share just a few remembrances and key moments.

During the first half of the tournament, there were no huge hands for me.  I didn’t double up at any point.  It was more like a slow chip accumulation.  I also got some cards.  You have to get cards to go deep.  You also have to get cards and hope someone else doesn’t get better cards, or get really lucky and draw out when you’re the favorite.

I manage to navigate the minefield for several hours.  By the time about half the field is gone, things are going good.  I’m starting to “feel it.”

[45]  Goldie, a.k.a. Steven Goldman has made his customary last-longer bet.  Basically, dozens of players have up to a $20 bet with Goldie that’s a last longer.  So, when Goldie busts out, which happens sometime around 3 pm, the room erupts in a roar.  Goldie gets up from his seat, and there’s a murmur of applause, which grows louder, and then becomes the backslapping joyous roar.  Goldie is the willful foil of this self-induced fun.  He then proceeds to walk around the room, visiting several tables, paying off debts.  Someone shouts out, “Make it rain, Goldie!  Make it rain!”  More roars of laughter.  Even Goldie laughs.  Just another memorable BARGE moment.

[46]  Bust out gifts have become another BARGE tradition.  I accumulated several prizes over the course of nearly 12 hours of play.  When someone gets eliminated, he/she often presents the villain with a small token, like a toy or small bottle of liquor, or something poker related.  It’s all in good fun.  The funniest bust-out gift I saw went to someone else (I forgot who).  Steve W. gets eliminated, stands up, and then hands a 2-cent pen to someone at the table.  Puzzled by the gift of an ordinary pen, which could have been plucked right out of the dealer tray, Steve W. settles any lingering mystery by announcing — “that’s my bust out gift…..it’s a poker tracker.”  Nice one, Steve.

[47]  During a break, I have to get down on a baseball game.  All my data points say the Minnesota Twins are the lock on the sheet.  Fortunately, Bruce Framer isn’t around to pester me, be negative, and talk me out of a winner this time, and I get down the winnings from the previous ticket and roll it into a big worthy favorite.  Let it ride!

[48]  Sometime around 6 pm we break for dinner.  I really like this format.  For the first time I can remember, there’s no banquet (which was kinda’ Friday night) and we all split into groups and go where we want.  It’s the last night of BARGE at GVR, and there’s only about 100 people I wanted to spend more time with who have completely been ignored on this trip.  We make a reservation for about 15 at Bottaglia, the upscale Italian restaurant inside the casino.

Funny moment happens when we are discussing drinks.  I have a big stack and am up near the chip lead with 30 players left.  Fifteen players are getting paid.  I must cash in this event.  Simple as that.  Alcohol has never impacted my play, and I tend to pace myself pretty well.  And the temptation of enjoying a cocktail with friends at our final dinner makes this obligatory.  Sharon (I think) decides it’s party time and orders a giant jug of booze.  It’s like one of the iced tea urns you see at a self-serve restaurant, only it’s filled with Vodka and some pink colored fruit juice.  I have no idea what was in it, but it served a dozen.  I wasn’t sure if I like it, so I had to have a second glass.  Then, a third.  Okay, it’s pretty good.  As for the table discussion, we had an all-star group of conversationalists.  That seems to be a BARGE certainty.  Great meal, outstanding company.

[49]  By 10 pm, we’re in-the-money.  I’m at or near the chip lead.  Fantasies of winning begin swirling.  I can’t shut it off.  Having interviewed perhaps 500-600 WSOP gold bracelet winners, one thing I remember was that most champions never got distracted with touchdown dance/spike the ball fantasies.  After playing in 22 previous Main Events, I wanted to dance like a maniac and hurl the proverbial ball out of the park.  But still, 15 or so opponents stood in the way of me and the goal line.

An oddity:  I have about 30 backers.  Invariably, I ran into several of them at my tables this week, including the Main Event.  Jim Anderson has gone deep.  He’s one of my investors.  Same with others who I neglected to write down.  I don’t think even one time anyone made mention of it at the table.  It certainly didn’t affect anyone’s play.  However, I must say there was at least one moment of tail-between-the-legs embarrassment.

J.P. Massar, a legend in his own right, ends up winning this year’s BARGE Best All-Around award, scored by Crunch Daniel.  J.P. had a great BARGE.  However, I busted him from the Main Even in the worst way.  J.P. bought 2.5 shares and perhaps wishes he hadn’t when he was down to perhaps a dozen players and was dealt pocket aces.   I had the biggest stack at my table and in the big blind found 6-5 of diamonds.  J.P. moves all-in on a short stack of about 225K.  I have more than a million in chips and with a blind and ante already committed, it’s a mandatory call with the suited connector.  The flop is a nightmare for J.P.  I flop and up and down straight draw, and two diamonds, good also for a flush draw.  All suspense ends on the turn when a third diamond comes, and J.P. is drawing dead.  J.P. is stone cool at the table but when he busts, he’s got a fuse (like me).  I try to console J.P. on my bad beat to his aces.  He looks at me like I’ve landed from a different planet, shakes his head, mumbles something and walks off.  Well, at least J.P.’s chips will be put to good use.

One final thought on the pre-final table:  Amber Hotchkiss Cropsey sat to my left much of the last half of the tourney.  I believe this was her first Main Event at BARGE.  Well, she played great.  Amber finished just a few spots out of the money but showed patience and displayed abilities far beyond her level of experience.  Be proud, Amber.  Well done.

[50]  Final table starts about 11ish.  I love this table.  First time I think I’ve ever played with Roy Cooke, the noted poker author.  But he corrects me and insists we’ve played a few times.  BTW, a really cool bust out gift was John Scarne’s book on cards, a classic published in 1953.  I forgot who brought that gift (Postscript–it was Chic Natkins), but that was PURE CLASS.  John Scarne set the foundation of gambling writing back in the 1940s and 1950s and to find an original copy of his book was something special.  Sorry, I forgot the details of who went to the trouble and brought that book, but it should be noted for its uniqueness.

I arrive at the final table second in chips to Oliver Juang.  Then, I go card dead for the next 45 minutes.  The chips begin to dwindle, especially at 150K, then 200K, and then 250K an orbit.  A million in chips isn’t really that big a stack.

A few memorable hands:

I’m sitting with about 700K, and there’s a raise and an all-in re-raise by Paul McMillan.  I’m in the small blind with A-J suited.  I ditch the hand.  Tough lay down, but you can’t call re-raises with hands like that, even with high blinds.

Down to five players, Llew makes an amazing comeback.  She was down to less than a blind in chips, and I’m already looking at the board and fantasizing about the $500 pay jump between 5th and 4th.  Get out Llew!  I love you, but be gone!  Llew won’t give in.  She claws.  She fights.  She manages to build the stack to about 300K.  I’m sitting on 700K.  Llew shoves her stack.  I look down at A-T.  Funny that I folded A-J earlier, but this spot is different.  Llew has been raising a lot and seems to be freerolling in a sense.  She could certainly have two paints here, or even a weak Ace.  I don’t like my spot, so I tank for perhaps 30 seconds because losing this pot will really hurt and put me on life support.  I make a crying call with A-T and Llew flips up pocket Jacks.  No ace, no improvement for either hand and now Llew is in the middle of the pack and I’m the short stack.

Orbits come fast.  Perhaps 10 minutes later, I’m under the gun with K-9, not the greatest hand, but at this point, I’ve got about four more hands to play and decide to go with it.  Oliver is in the blind, wakes up with a big Ace, and takes my final chips.  I’m out fifth, good for $1,300 and change.

Bittersweet.

[51]  Scottro, a.k.a. Scott Harker is about a polar opposite from me as it gets politically and philosophically, but this has never impacted our friendship or mutual respect.  I really respect Scottro because while I disagree with him on many things, he lives and stays true to his principles.  He’s no hypocrite.  That’s worthy of admiration.  Scottro is also fun to play poker with, even though he’s a tough player.  During much of the later stages of the Main Event, I had position to Scottro’s left, which really gave me an extra advantage.  I’m glad for my lucky seat.

In all honesty, as much as I respected Llew’s comeback and like Scottro’s playing style, I thought among the last four that Dan Nussbaum and Oliver Juang would be the faves.  They had the big stacks.  Llew has won more ARGE Main Events than anyone (four different titles!) and she knows how to close.  Scottro is solid.  But I just didn’t see Oliver or Dan making a mistake.

Turns out, no mistakes were made.  After Llew busted fourth, Scottro just played his heart out and his ass off.  Nothing against Oliver or Dan, who I don’t know all the well (my loss, for sure), but I was jubilant for Scottro when I heard he won and is now the 2019 BARGE CHAMPION.  I was sad for myself, but seeing Scottro get there, especially knowing he’s gone through some personal trials of his own, was a fist-pumping moment for me.  Bingo won last year.  Scottro won this year.  I’m all out of fist pumps.

 

[52]  What does one do after busting from the Main Event after 12 hours?  Well that answer’s easy!  Let’s play some more poker!

Eric and Bruce are nesting in some bottom-feeder $4-8 Dealers Choice game with a half-kill.  Patti’s in also.  I can’t resist temptation.  I take $100 from my poker winnings and get dealt one hand.  It’s Badaci, a game I loathe.  Pot is big for a game of this limit and when the hand is over, I’m stacking $32 in profit.

I decide then and there, this is the perfect time to quit.

In my life, I have played exactly ONE HAND of live poker inside the GVR poker room.  Honestly, I had never played here before.  I had not played ONE HAND of live poker during BARGE.  So, to win the ONE HAND I play and chalk up a winner seems like a perfect exclamation point.

Take that, fuckers.  !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[53]  Bingalaha is my favortie BARGE poker playing pastime.  It’s a game we invented about ten years ago, credited to Bingo.  I’ve endured massive swings in that game, stacking up more than $5,000 a few times, and losing nearly as much the one time this group took our merry poker circus to the Venetian.  I love Bingalaha, which is a PLO High/Low variation with dice.

For the first time, I decide to skip the game.  I’m tired.  I’m ahead, by a nice score.  My Minnesota Twins sports ticket won, I see.  This has been a helluva’ day.  Oh, and my car’s sitting in an industrial park in SW Las Vegas past midnight out of gas.

I do the responsible thing.  Let’s wrap.  Let’s call it a BARGE.

On the way, back — I have to call another Lyft.  A woman picks me up and I explain I ran out of gas 14 hours ago and have been at the casino since 11 this morning.  We need to stop at the gas station, then take me to the car.

LYFT DRIVER:  “You left your car and played at the casino since this morning?”

ME:  “That’s right.”

LYFT DRIVER:  [Silence.  I can only imagine what’s swimming inside her head — *RED FLAG:  COMPULSIVE GAMBLER*]

We stop at a gas station, where I buy a half-gallon of Sprite that’s on sale.  The Sprite gets poured out in the parking lot.  Now, I have a gas can.  Fill ‘er up!

The half-gallon is enough to re-start the car and get me back on the road.  Meanwhile, the Lyft driver, who has no clue I did that drudgery for a full month, has to be thinking….what a loser.

Saturday was a smash hit in every way imaginable (except for running out of gas).  I got into the black in every investment sector and closed with a nice profit.  My updated results are:

Day Five– Expenses:

— Tokes (to dealers) — $40

— Tournament Staff Toke — $50

— Tokes (for cocktails) — $30

— Tournament Entry Fee — $140

Winnings:

— 5th-Place Finish in Main Event — + $1,371

— ADB Last Longer Win — + $200

— Calcutta ROI — + $97

— Winning Sports Wager — + $208

NET DAILY RESULT: + $1,516 .

[See Overall Final BARGE results below]

__________

 

DAY SIX REPORT

[54]  Dan and Sharon Goldman live a half-mile from me.  In fact, I can walk to their house.  This makes for an odd reality that I’ve skipped several BARGE after-parties in recent years.  I ascribe my absence to some genuine fatigue and the long-lost responsibilities of being back home after a week-long poker vacation.  In other words, there’s a tap out factor at every BARGE and I usually reach it by late Saturday night.

This year, however, I was inspired to attend for several valid reasons.  First, my BARGE experience connected to so many people, including backers, wouldn’t be complete without a wind-down gathering.  I suppose it’s like going into the clubhouse after playing 18 holes of golf.  It’s an encore.  Dan and Sharon’s place is the BARGE clubhouse and the show-stopping curtain closer on a spectacular week of fun.

The other reason I attended had everything to do with liquor multiplied by a factor of three.

  1. I missed Patti’s gin tasting.  So, she promised a reprise of the experience.
  2. Rodney Chen mentioned he had a special gift for Dan and Sharon which was inspired by one of my rants.  He asked me to be there, and I was obliged to oblige.
  3. I was promised champagne.

The merry gathering drew about 50-60 guests, plus assorted dogs and cats, and who knows what other furry beasts.  Which reminds me — Grizz was there, too.  Honestly, I have no idea how Dan and Sharon allow us to turn their home into what amounts to poker’s Woodstock.  I don’t want to say that we trash their house, but we do trash their house.  FWIW, I remembered to toss away all my garbage, except when the trash can overflowed and then I just said — “ah, fuck it.”  It looked like a stadium after a football game.

Speaking of Grizz, he brought some cold crisp champagne, and I enjoyed his treat — a celebration of his word to share some bubbly if one of us went deep in the Main Event.  Thanks, Grizz (I think he cashed 2 or 3 times, BTW — nice run!).  Sorry for th4 furry beast comment, earlier.  Furry would have been more than enough adjectives.

[55]  Chris Quan spent years together traveling the poker tournament circuit.  The Queens native is someone I’ve known and respected a long time and I was glad to see him join BARGE around five years ago.  Chris and I make a pact to get together next time, which always seems to lead to another unkept promise.  And this brings me to the sadness of BARGE.

In this report, I’ve cited perhaps 30-35 names, but also omitted another 150.  It’s one of the reasons I didn’t write trip reports for many years.  I don’t like leaving people out.  I fear they might think their friendships didn’t have as much of an impact.  This isn’t the case, of course.  I just want to point out that this is just ONE single report.  It’s just a scratch on the surface.  I’m at 12,000 words already, and the full rhapsody of BARGE seems woefully inadequate here on these pages.

[56]  Patti Beadles gives me a gift I can possibly replay.  This gift consists of her knowledge, her time, and her passion (one of many).  Patti mentioned that she’d do a gin-tasting redux on Sunday.  What I didn’t expect was this to be a one-on-one experience.

Patti called me over.  She lined up multiple bottles of gin, ranging from very good to world-class and the proceded to stand with me at the Goldman bar while she poured and lectured about the uniqueness of each distillery and flavor.  Admittedly, I’m no aficionado of gin.  Hence, this was not just an eye-opening experience, but a revelation of new tastes.

Patti first poured me the classic London Dry, then we sampled the Irish gin, and so on.  Here was the order of consumption:

Sipsmith: Basic London Dry

Five Saints: from Philadelphia, a bit peppery

Ha’Penny: from Ireland, a basic London Dry

Hayman’s Old Tom: Sweet

St. George Terroir: Chewing on a forest

Hendricks Summer Solstice: Floral, very lavender

The standout among these gin beauties was the artisan liquid craft called St. George Terroir, from Alameda, CA — which coincidentally is close to where Patti lives.  I mentioned that I’d had three memorable gin experiences in my life — the first time I had a gin and tonic, the first time I tasted Hendricks, and then this tasting, and especially the St. George Terroir, which was the first and only gin I would order alone and savor.  It’s that damn good.

Thanks, Patti, for sharing.  I learned quite a lot about gin and for the first time came to appreciate the nuances of taste.

[57]  Rodney Chen has his own tradition.  He’s the BARGE photographer, who spends countless hours and resources making photos for all the attendees.  Some of the tips cover his costs, but Rodney clearly does this purely for the love of giving.  He also live-streamed the final table the previous night, over Facebook.  Pretty amazing set-up.  Rodney is our documentation.

And yet, he’s the one who’s giving something away.  For hosting the party each year, Rodney brings Dan a special bottle of bourbon, which is Dan’s thing (well, one of Dan’s things).  Trouble is, Dan has tasted just about every bourbon on the market, and some that are so rare you’ve never heard of them.  There’s no way to really surprise him given his vast experience and expertise.  However, about a month ago, I trashed Bob Dylan’s-branded bourbon, which is labeled Heaven’s Door.  It runs about $60 a bottle.  Remarkably, Dan had never tried this before and so Rodney thought it was the ideal gift since we are all disciples of Bob Dylan’s “spirit,” in philosophy, if not in mass consumerism.

Anyway, we make an earnest presentation to Dan (and Sharon).  I ask Dan to put on Dylan’s “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” and then say a few words, which were in gratitude to our hosts.  Then, Rodney presents the bourbon, which causes Dan to sparkle.  Somehow, the Dylan batch gets passed around like Army soldiers swigging moonshine around a campfire, and Dan has perhaps half of his “gift” remaining by the time we’re retired to other activities.

Speaking of which, the final chapter……

[58]  I find parties distasteful.  Really, I do.  Standing around.  Shit food.  Boring small talk.  I don’t like to go to parties.  But this one is different.

Lots of BARGErs are off in the dining room, doing what BARGErs do — playing some ridiculous gambling game with dice.  I have no idea what’s happening but about every 5 minutes, there’s a loud roar and then someone stands up from the table.  So, I guess this is kinda’ like some tournament where dice have replaced cards.

I mozy outside, which by 6 pm is nice and dry and comfortable for August in Las Vegas.  We’re out by the pool, and the group of 3 turns to 5, then to 7, and by 8 pm with the sunset on the Western horizon and the dawn of yet another BARGE just over the ridge, we get to share, and laugh, and ponder, and reflect.  Of all the BARGE moments, I think I most enjoyed this final two hours where I got to listen to people I have known for 10, 15, and 20 years or more and then really find out more about them, in this group setting as we go around the circle and share memories and opinions on just about everything.  BARGE events do tend to be distracting and can be overwhelming, at times.  So, this moment of quiet reflection is an ideal close to the evening and the week.

[59]  Finally, a closing note to say that the entire BARGE contingent will be in action this coming NFL season.  Since the BARGE fund is short and needs donations, we took an extra $40 from the Saturday night dinner and rolled it into an NFL future bet.  We wanted a longshot, but not such a longshot that the team had no chance.  So, we looked for a team in the middle of the pack, and we found the perfect representation of a glorious train wreck.  We wagered on the Cleveland Browns to win the Super Bowl.  Bingo took the extra $40 from dinner and placed it on behalf of all BARGErs on the Browns to win the championship.  If the impossible happens, and the team which hasn’t won an NFL title since 1964 gets there, our futures ticket will pay $929.  Go Browns!

Postscript:  Oops!  I meant “Go Steelers!”  We talked about betting the Browns at dinner, but then Eric Schneller put the $4o BARGE fund on the rival Steelers at 22-1, which I agree is a far better value.  Go Steelers!

 

FINAL INVESTMENT FUND NET-RESULTS:

Tournament Results (6 Events):   + $774.

Cash Game Results (1 Playing Session):   + $32.

Sports Wagers (3 Bets):  + 298.

ADB Last Longer Wagers (3 Bets):  + $180.

Calcutta ROI (1 Investment):  +$72.

Sabyl Cohen-Landrum Investment Fund:  +$34 

Gross Gambling Profits from BARGE 2019:  + $1,590. 

 

A big thank you to the BARGE organizers.  A big thank you to Kathy Raymond and the Green Valley Ranch poker room staff.  A big thank you to Virtue Poker for funding the Karaoke event.  A big thank you to those who presented me with gifts.  A big thank you to those who bought me dinners.  A big thank you to each of my backers.  A big thank you to Eric Schneller and Kacie Young for joining us as BARGE virgins this year.  And finally, a big thank you to everyone who attended BARGE.

Finally, thank you for reading.  I hope these memories will inspire each of you to create a few of your own and others might join us at BARGE 2020.

 

Nothing really matters — anyone can see.

Nothing really matters.

Nothing really matters — to me.

….Any way the wind blows.

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Posted by on Jul 4, 2019 in Blog, Essays | 0 comments

July 4th, 2019

 

 

MY INDEPENDENCE DAY MESSAGE:  July 4, 2019

WHEN THE REPUBLICAN PARTY HAD A SOUL

 

I was there in the hall that night at the Dallas Convention Center during the 1984 Republican National Convention when Ray Charles belted out the greatest of all odes — “America the Beautiful.” What a gorgeous melody and moment.

I sat midway back in the audience, dead center aisle, one of the best seats in the house (I got media credentials, then tagged on an “ABC News” badge someone gave me, so I got total access throughout the hall, even to the stage area). I wept with joy.

I fondly remember those wondrous days of yesteryear so long ago when the Republican Party had a soul. Even those who disagreed with Ronald Reagan’s policies — and there were valid reasons for protest — *still* largely liked him and thought of him as a civil and decent man. How times have changed, especially on the political Right.

I love America — but I also loathe nationalism. I weep at the Star Spangled Banner when it’s done right — but acknowledge it’s a horrible anthem, inappropriate for its glorification of war and overt racism. I am lucky to be born in this country — but am often ashamed by it — its leaders, its people, and i’s policies. I’m acutely aware our prosperity was built on the backs of millions of slaves, indigenous people, and immigrants. I believe my understanding of my place in time as an American makes me a true patriot, even though I don’t consider myself particularly patriotic. Patriotism isn’t measured by the size of a flag. It’s reflected in ideas and courage and conviction about what our country should stand for and strive for.

For as many years as I can remember as a homeowner, we always put out the American flag on our doorstep. Strangely, it seemed out of place, on occasion, especially here in Las Vegas where money and corporations are worshipped, fame and celebrity are confused with wisdom, and where most citizens can’t identify the Bill of Rights. But we hung it out anyway. We were usually the only people on our block with an American flag outside. How odd that must seem given the Marxist leanings of the Dalla household.

This year, I elected to keep my flag indoors. My American flag will not hang outside. I will not partake in the politicization of my national holiday by a president who disrespects the U.S. Constitution, lacks a fundamental understanding of American history, and who coddles the world’s most despicable dictators. That’s not “American.” I will celebrate democracy when it genuinely means something. I refuse to be a part of any partisan parade or faux military spectacle. No, I won’t go along with the motions.

I will not allow this president to co-opt all that America stands for, which isn’t tanks in the streets and children locked in cages. I want not lend my name, nor presence, nor participation, to any 4th of July with that ugly message. It’s un-American.

Instead, I will reflect with admiration of that time 35 long years ago when our friends in the Republican Party were once good and decent people. Perhaps someday they will reclaim that marvelous pinnacle of political and moral authority.

I wonder. I hope.

Look at the faces of the people in this video.

My message to you all, everywhere, on this Independence Day.

 

 

__________

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