The Spanish Inquisition
I return home from 'the grind' and face a few rounds of the Spanish --err-- Puerto Rican Inquisition. Sipping slowly from her coffee (whose recipe is inherited from SuperGirl's less super mother, and revealed to infidels [non Puerto Ricans] marrying into the family only after 10 years of marriage), she poses calculated questions, all aimed I believe at revealing the answer to, "Is he fucking serious about this Poker shit?"
Not anticipating her well-reasoned inquiries, I field her precise questions with vague answers, and her vague questions with precise answers. Trained it seemed at the Mossad school of Bullshit Detection, SuperGirl fails my attempts to placate her. Were it late in the 1400's, I'd say 3:2 SuperGirl de Torquemada takes pity on me (after all, I would have had exception oral hygiene for the middle ages) and spares me the Judas Chair.
Her points are annoyingly sharp. To summarize, how can I justify spending all day sitting on my ass, relying heavily on a consistent melange of adequate luck, bad players and a constant clarity of thought, all to earn less money than I do now without having to count on anything except my Zen alarm clock.
At my current job, clarity of thought is only required sporadically, and is more often times than not, deferrable! In poker, any mental lapse even out of a hand is irreparable. In my current role in the I.T. field, I have a myriad of excuses on which I can rely for productivity issues (lack thereof): colleague inadequacy, technology failures, management misdirection, my dog ate my thumb drive, etc.
In poker, no excuses except those horribly embarrassing ones that imply the incorrect play of others. There's always the "bad run of cards" mantra which has an inherent benefit of 1) having 'indefinite" time frame undertones associated with it, and 2) everyone can easily relate to being handed junk after junk for extended periods of time; however, there's a real fine line between "bad run" and "bad play", and I'm not sure too many players can make that distinction honestly.
Unable to address this argument without ample reflection, I try to move laterally in the discussion and convince SuperGirl that over the course of time, good and back luck will cancel one another out, leaving good or bad play to fight for the spoils. SuperGirl, whose experience in statistical analysis is limited to figuring out the quickest way to straighten her hair, suggests that though good and bad luck will cancel each other out, they'll do so only over the course of infinite (which she says using some kind of heretic mannerism) and that there's nothing to say or help predict that 25 years won't pass by with or without an ounce of "good" luck.
I'm overwhelmed by this logic. Not knowing what else to say, I utter one of those few collection of words one should keep securely vaulted right next to the masturbation schedule: "Why don't you come and watch me play?" ...
Next installment: Pandora's Box.
Not anticipating her well-reasoned inquiries, I field her precise questions with vague answers, and her vague questions with precise answers. Trained it seemed at the Mossad school of Bullshit Detection, SuperGirl fails my attempts to placate her. Were it late in the 1400's, I'd say 3:2 SuperGirl de Torquemada takes pity on me (after all, I would have had exception oral hygiene for the middle ages) and spares me the Judas Chair.
Her points are annoyingly sharp. To summarize, how can I justify spending all day sitting on my ass, relying heavily on a consistent melange of adequate luck, bad players and a constant clarity of thought, all to earn less money than I do now without having to count on anything except my Zen alarm clock.
At my current job, clarity of thought is only required sporadically, and is more often times than not, deferrable! In poker, any mental lapse even out of a hand is irreparable. In my current role in the I.T. field, I have a myriad of excuses on which I can rely for productivity issues (lack thereof): colleague inadequacy, technology failures, management misdirection, my dog ate my thumb drive, etc.
In poker, no excuses except those horribly embarrassing ones that imply the incorrect play of others. There's always the "bad run of cards" mantra which has an inherent benefit of 1) having 'indefinite" time frame undertones associated with it, and 2) everyone can easily relate to being handed junk after junk for extended periods of time; however, there's a real fine line between "bad run" and "bad play", and I'm not sure too many players can make that distinction honestly.
Unable to address this argument without ample reflection, I try to move laterally in the discussion and convince SuperGirl that over the course of time, good and back luck will cancel one another out, leaving good or bad play to fight for the spoils. SuperGirl, whose experience in statistical analysis is limited to figuring out the quickest way to straighten her hair, suggests that though good and bad luck will cancel each other out, they'll do so only over the course of infinite (which she says using some kind of heretic mannerism) and that there's nothing to say or help predict that 25 years won't pass by with or without an ounce of "good" luck.
I'm overwhelmed by this logic. Not knowing what else to say, I utter one of those few collection of words one should keep securely vaulted right next to the masturbation schedule: "Why don't you come and watch me play?" ...
Next installment: Pandora's Box.
posted by stefNfloyd | 10:01 AM
1 Comments:
You have been found. 8^) Will be linking you up - excellent posts!
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