April 27, 2004 #

Poker in the...

Perhaps you've seen amateur Chris Moneymaker win the 2003 World Series of Poker on ESPN with Norman Chad's intentionally-or-not hilarious commentary during the 100th repeat airing which has every accountant from Nashville to Cocoa Beach in a weekly home game thinking they could ride a pair of Queens to glory. Or, you just can't get enough of the World Poker Tour on the Travel Channel because truth be told, there's nothing like a room full of screaming Costa Ricans cheering on the fat, local casino owner giving the two-fisted clamp victory shake. For others, maybe it took the genuine star power of "Celebrity Poker" on Bravo with Kevin Pollack's unintentionally not-hilarious commentary to see what all the hoopla of Texas Hold'em Poker is all about. The dick jokes were just bonus.

Still not registering a blink? Well it's pretty addictive stuff, even to watch. While the thought of televised card-playing sounds like...uh, televised card-playing, it is actually much more than that. These aren't a bunch of frat dudes snapping beer caps between fingers that smell of Tri-Delt. The professionals playing for wheelbarrows of money are steeped in the psychology of the game and try to slice through the human drama like Ricky Jay "aceing" a watermelon. You think pressure is a PPT presentation in front of 50 half-awake co-workers? Try going all-in against Scotty Nguyen while he laughs in your face and sips a pinky-raising Coors Gold. Okay, maybe that doesn't translate but believe me when I say it's really fuckin' funny when a guy like Phil Hellmuth cries like a baby on a bad beat.

It is my opinion all forms of televised poker are good - except that Celebrity Poker shit. It's the anti-salt. Celebrities and poker separated are good and wholesome institutions that add spice to life. Together they form a toxic, unholy bond of boredom. Mainly because the stakes mean nothing other than charity contributions which are never nearly enough. Besides, who really gives a crap about a celebrity losing $10K on a bet when it means nothing more than one less weekend of French hookers to splurge on. See, I lose my shit when Sarah Silverman is making jokes about her rack or nicknaming her vagina, "faggot" - not when she's sitting short-stacked and losing her shirt, metaphorically.

Let's bring it local. How big is this stuff getting? Adam Schoenfeld (with a real poker babe!!) is a retired Silicon Alley millionaire from Brooklyn playing professionally and he recently finished 5th in the L.A. Poker Classic to the tune of $170K. That's ImClone IPO money, people. And tonight, right in our own backyard, Sweet Action Mag is hosting a Strip Poker Party, Texas Hold'em style, at APT sponsored by Patron Spirits. (Sorry, invite only but I'm sure if you ask around...) Besides getting your almost-naked hipster groove on, I imagine the evening will provide more than its share of comedic fodder. I am already working on my "here comes the flop!" jokes. Now who's got a straight?

The last two sentences are dedicated to the eternal memory of Michael Spinelli. He's alive but often shirtless.


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