It's with a confused squint while scratching my head that I write this...where the fuck did the last 30 days go? Wherever it went it took some more of my not so hard earned capital with it. Despite a massive May, and a 6th place score in the Hollywood Poker Open Championship event in June, I still managed to lose back most of my profits for the year.
Well if you read my hyped up post to begin the WSOP and are checking in to see how it's going I'll give you the quick version. It's not going. It's a little worse than that; I can't even get the engine to turn over as I've barely been above starting stack, let alone made a day 2.
I know, I'm all about controversy lately. Maybe it's just because I haven't cashed a tournament yet, or maybe it's because I just saw someone somehow blame Christians for a Muslim extremist's attack on gay people. In any event, I'll try to keep this one on point and let you have your own "aha!" moments, AKA ignore and post vicious hypocritical comments. Here we go:
I can't really describe the feeling I get when men and women are called equals, we're clearly not. Is the dough of a pizza equal to the toppings? No, but one without the other is just bread. The whole idea that men and women should have all of the same jobs and opportunities in the world is a strange phenomenon, and it's been breaking up families since the idea became mainstream.
I often find myself thinking about simple things, and how these things are distorted when envisioned en mass, or when more people are involved. For instance, the idea of personal property and trespassing is pretty straight-forward. I have my house; and if you decide to come into my house, and dig around in my pantry, drink my milk, take my keys, use my car and the gas inside of it without my knowledge or approval, the world will be on my side. Everyone that I tell this story will say, "Wow that's pretty fucked up, that person should not be allowed on your property, or at least should be held responsible for paying you back for the money you spent on all that stuff. You must have worked all week for the money to pay for those things."
It’s been a long morning, and I’m tired from playing with my youngest daughter all day. The house is a mess, and I’m not really sure how all of the pots from the kitchen ended up in the living room. But here we are. I haven’t thought about poker all day, in fact I haven’t thought about much of anything. The decision between a wooden spoon and a plastic spatula as my drumstick of choice is the toughest one I’ve made all day. I know, not exactly the fantasy life of a high stakes poker player you had in mind.