Imminent Poker and BlackJack Night
Joy. Sirius ($6.02) and XM (32.99) have been granted permission to sell their respective services in Canada. I wouldn't consider starting my post with such commercial information were it not for the 1000 shares of Sirius occupying a long tenured position in my IRA.
"It's all timing anyway. That's what poker is all about." - T.J. Cloutier in response to winning his 6th WSOP bracelet. So simple. So true. I wonder if the same can be said about bankroll acquisition.
Inspired by T.J's story and other similar tales of Poker conquests from LasVegas and Poker Blog, I will be going to Casino Arizona tonight with SuperGirl to see if my sense of timing is any similar to that of T.J's.
SuperGirl wants no part of poker; this extends to not watching me play poker, or even sipping on a Cosmo playing video poker. She doesn't want to risk me becoming distracted by her presence or feel the need to play 'above myself' for the sake of appeasing her expectation levels. Fair enough.
BlackJack and Baccarat are her games of choice - the former because she likes to use her handy index card for guidance, the latter because she gets to fondle the cards. In Casino Arizona, she only plays Blackjack. Actually, her best game is Craps -- she held the dice for 40 some minutes at Paris, LV during our April 2003 visit, a session climaxing when she hit her point hardway (8) with about $1000 of the table's wagers booked on the number.
With or without her little BlackJack cheat-index, SuperGirl's powers are neutralized at a Blackjack table because, as it turns out, the baize on the gaming tables are dipped in Green Kryptonite (not surprisingly, it's the component -- per confidential SuperHero resource -- which makes the felt green).
I'll explain now just how SuperGirl loses most of the time she plays BlackJack because I know some of you may have a bit of difficulty swallowing the Kryptonite logic without a large glass prove-it-lemonade:
SuperGirl sits down at the table, in all her majestic beauty, naivete, BlackJack index card and buy-in. Invariably, a gentleman dealer eventually is assigned to deal the table. Despite himself, said dealer falls in love, and despite himself again, said dealer can't help but wipe-out SuperGirl's bankroll in the most Ripliesque and epic fashion. I know. It sounds crazy. Let me further indulge you:
At their tables, most BlackJack dealers subconsciously and delicately influence the waves, the impulses, the balance and the nuances of luck. Sometimes, depending on the players' very same subconscious ability, there is a draw, thus allowing an outcome determined impartially by statistical merit. Other times, it's a complete massacre one way or the other -- usually the other if you know what I mean.
Some dealers know they do it, but can't figure it out nor predict reliable results. Some dealers haven't a clue, but can still sense a mystic force at work. Some can even mildly control it, manipulating this 'force field' with such proficient and covert flair, they usually find themselves dealing in the VIP lounges of high profile Strip casinos.
In SuperGirl's case, her dealer genuinely wants her to win, as to endear himself to her, and in so doing, granting himself this intimately anonymous, yet harmless passage to convey his love to her.
Unfortunately, this power to manipulate the injudicious whims of luck works in curious ways.
A dealer who likes you, busts you. A dealer who hates you, dumps to you. I'm sure you've seen it first hand. I can't explain it other than to speculate that it's a check-and-balance system made necessary by the paranormal governance which allow the whole choreograph to go on in the first place. It's also what makes those dealers working in VIP so valuable: They're able to fake indifference, reflect humility and treat you with utmost respect, while politely offering you insurance on their ace, and hating, coveting and resenting any of the financial successes they presuppose you to have achieved based on your bankroll.
And so, Joe SixPack will end-up decimating SuperGirl's bankroll. He'll secretly curse himself out because as his unholy thoughts progressively intensify, so too does SuperGirl's evident repulsion of him AND his maddening 7-card 21. The only thing that will usually save SuperGirl is a dealer change -- provided it's one made in favor of the opposite sex. Women who deal to SuperGirl hate her -- so, as you can guess, she wins some of her money back -- unless the woman is Asian (don't ask) in which case all hope of a win is l-o-s-t.
This cycle will continue until SuperGirl has won enough money to buy an accessory, jewelry or perfume; until there is a surplus of Asian dealers; until there is a disproportionate number of male dealers, or until bankroll issues necessitate immediate evacuation.
Though I constantly advise SuperGirl to play only with white, young female dealers, she doesn't listen and tells me to "Stick to Poker Honey... You know I have my cheat card". It's my belief that she really thinks I'm full of shit. Perhaps you do too! Then again, perhaps you'll opt for the Kryptonite explanation, which frankly, I'd rather prefer you'd accept.
Up next: Trip Report.
"It's all timing anyway. That's what poker is all about." - T.J. Cloutier in response to winning his 6th WSOP bracelet. So simple. So true. I wonder if the same can be said about bankroll acquisition.
Inspired by T.J's story and other similar tales of Poker conquests from LasVegas and Poker Blog, I will be going to Casino Arizona tonight with SuperGirl to see if my sense of timing is any similar to that of T.J's.
SuperGirl wants no part of poker; this extends to not watching me play poker, or even sipping on a Cosmo playing video poker. She doesn't want to risk me becoming distracted by her presence or feel the need to play 'above myself' for the sake of appeasing her expectation levels. Fair enough.
BlackJack and Baccarat are her games of choice - the former because she likes to use her handy index card for guidance, the latter because she gets to fondle the cards. In Casino Arizona, she only plays Blackjack. Actually, her best game is Craps -- she held the dice for 40 some minutes at Paris, LV during our April 2003 visit, a session climaxing when she hit her point hardway (8) with about $1000 of the table's wagers booked on the number.
With or without her little BlackJack cheat-index, SuperGirl's powers are neutralized at a Blackjack table because, as it turns out, the baize on the gaming tables are dipped in Green Kryptonite (not surprisingly, it's the component -- per confidential SuperHero resource -- which makes the felt green).
I'll explain now just how SuperGirl loses most of the time she plays BlackJack because I know some of you may have a bit of difficulty swallowing the Kryptonite logic without a large glass prove-it-lemonade:
SuperGirl sits down at the table, in all her majestic beauty, naivete, BlackJack index card and buy-in. Invariably, a gentleman dealer eventually is assigned to deal the table. Despite himself, said dealer falls in love, and despite himself again, said dealer can't help but wipe-out SuperGirl's bankroll in the most Ripliesque and epic fashion. I know. It sounds crazy. Let me further indulge you:
At their tables, most BlackJack dealers subconsciously and delicately influence the waves, the impulses, the balance and the nuances of luck. Sometimes, depending on the players' very same subconscious ability, there is a draw, thus allowing an outcome determined impartially by statistical merit. Other times, it's a complete massacre one way or the other -- usually the other if you know what I mean.
Some dealers know they do it, but can't figure it out nor predict reliable results. Some dealers haven't a clue, but can still sense a mystic force at work. Some can even mildly control it, manipulating this 'force field' with such proficient and covert flair, they usually find themselves dealing in the VIP lounges of high profile Strip casinos.
In SuperGirl's case, her dealer genuinely wants her to win, as to endear himself to her, and in so doing, granting himself this intimately anonymous, yet harmless passage to convey his love to her.
Unfortunately, this power to manipulate the injudicious whims of luck works in curious ways.
A dealer who likes you, busts you. A dealer who hates you, dumps to you. I'm sure you've seen it first hand. I can't explain it other than to speculate that it's a check-and-balance system made necessary by the paranormal governance which allow the whole choreograph to go on in the first place. It's also what makes those dealers working in VIP so valuable: They're able to fake indifference, reflect humility and treat you with utmost respect, while politely offering you insurance on their ace, and hating, coveting and resenting any of the financial successes they presuppose you to have achieved based on your bankroll.
And so, Joe SixPack will end-up decimating SuperGirl's bankroll. He'll secretly curse himself out because as his unholy thoughts progressively intensify, so too does SuperGirl's evident repulsion of him AND his maddening 7-card 21. The only thing that will usually save SuperGirl is a dealer change -- provided it's one made in favor of the opposite sex. Women who deal to SuperGirl hate her -- so, as you can guess, she wins some of her money back -- unless the woman is Asian (don't ask) in which case all hope of a win is l-o-s-t.
This cycle will continue until SuperGirl has won enough money to buy an accessory, jewelry or perfume; until there is a surplus of Asian dealers; until there is a disproportionate number of male dealers, or until bankroll issues necessitate immediate evacuation.
Though I constantly advise SuperGirl to play only with white, young female dealers, she doesn't listen and tells me to "Stick to Poker Honey... You know I have my cheat card". It's my belief that she really thinks I'm full of shit. Perhaps you do too! Then again, perhaps you'll opt for the Kryptonite explanation, which frankly, I'd rather prefer you'd accept.
Up next: Trip Report.
posted by stefNfloyd | 2:39 PM
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