The Year of Our Lord, 2055

21 02 2011

Aw man, this style of play just isn’t working out for me at all anymore. Here I am in February and I’m already down $90,767, with only Mauro-Clone #3 behind me at negative $127,233. This sucks, hell, even Karson Lum is beating the crap outta me, not to mention my 37 kids and 105 grandchildren. I tell ya, there’s no respect for your elders anymore. Back in the day when my dad, the Great Sir Eel (10x Trophy winner), started this venerable poker institution, we had respect for our elders. Sadly, as we all know, dad passed away 2 years ago from too much time spent with his sizeable collection of Sex-Bots (registered trademark). The old ticker finally gave out, but hell, at least he died with a smile on his face. But I digress. Where were we, oh yeah, respect.

Yes, we even had respect for that old geezer that used to play part-time with us, what was his name again…., oh yeah, Master Jack. Too bad old Jack didn’t live long enough to see the invention of our everyday diet staple, the age regression pill, or ARP as we so fondly call it. Or Health Cigarettes (‘All of the Taste, None of the Bad Shit’), yeah, old Jack would have loved these babies. Which reminds me, I should mention that at the top of our poker food chain still sits Buddy Jr. at +$59,033. Who would’ve thought that a dog-human hybrid could play poker so well. After Lobster Bob cloned his old dog Buddy and put him into that DNA Human Molecule Exchange Chamber back in ’45, Buddy Jr.’s been on a winning streak the likes of which have not been seen since my glory days of 2009-2016.

At the other end of the spectrum, it’s a shame that Mauro #3 still can’t buy a hand, even with a full head of white-man ‘fro on his head. Maybe it doesn’t help that the original blueprint Mauro still sits in his Speedster 5000 Motorized Chair behind his 3rd clone at every game giving him ‘tips’. Hell, the man couldn’t play when he was in his prime, never mind now. I mean, the old bastard’s still as tech-savvy as ever, and yet still stubbornly refuses to take advantage of any of our modern miracles, including the cell-phone implant. I know! Who the fuck can live without one of those babies in their wrist? So there he sits on that out-dated wheelchair with his wrinkled 96 year-old ass going on and on and on and on and on about the old days. And if his clone loses a particularly bad hand, he still wheels up to the table and throws Mauro #3’s cards and chips all over the table. I don’t know how all of his 26 clones put up with him.

Speaking of prima donna’s, my godfather, Jenny Lum, as he now calls himself, is like totally outta control. Even his son’s embarrassed to be around him. Ever since the Get In Touch With Your Feminine Side Movement of the ’30’s came about, he’s been prancing about in the most ghastly outfits and body enhancements you can imagine. He’s had so much surgery that he makes Michael Jackson look positively normal. It’s bad enough with the F-Cups, the pink hair and the size 30 feet, but now he shows up at one of our games a few weeks back showing off his new fish gills and ruby encrusted fingernails. The man’s (if you can still call him that) a freak. Oh well, what can I say, if it makes him happy…

I do miss the old days though, when it was still 8 or 9 of us. Now we have to rent a freakin’ hall every week, what with Keith’s and Ron’s grandkids and the Dave Reid holographic projections (yes, all 97 of them). I mean, it was bad enough with one Weedman, now we gotta put up with 97 pot-heads who are asking for full human civil rights and stinkin’ up the joint (pardon the pun) with their Republic of New B.C. Bud. And they’re all still losing money every year. This is of course not to mention the countless other part-timers that continue to join us, such as Dustin’s left ass cheek (the only sentient survivor of Dustin’s tragic bungee jumping accident of 8 years ago). The hands that were added to it was bad enough, but 2 years ago, Dustin’s Ass Cheek, or DujAC as we like to call him, got the idea to add full facial features to himself so that now he looks kinda like Mr. Potato Head. Scary shit.

Anyway, I’ve carried on long enough. I don’t know, I think it’s time to retire gracefully from this game. Nobody gives me respect anymore. Let me consult my Intel 30 Billion Quahzlobite Laptop computer for the next game. Ah, it will be at the Ancient House of the Original Dave. It’s nice to see that some of us still have a sense of history. Today I will be posting a retro car babe from the turn of the century. They still looked good, even back in 2000 eh guys? Don’t forget that next week, dad’s mummified remains will be on display for all to worship, so bring incense, etc.

Son-of-SpiC out

Son-of-Sireel’s Stats: POKER 2011





F**K It, I’m Goin’ All-In

14 02 2011

An awesome post by none other than my son Alex. Here it is:

Is that a continuation bet? I think he’s got the nuts. You know what? **** it. I’m going all in.

Yeah, I could call it down or fold, cut my losses. But **** that. Folding is for pussies. I’m ****ing Alex Beef Fernandes. I can get that bluff to work. And, even if I can’t, I bet I’ll be able to suck out or get him next time. I like going all in. It makes my dick hard.

What’s that? I should minraise? **** that. That’s gay. Check it down? Gay. Fold? Gay. Slowplay? Kevin Spacey gay. This is ****ing Texas Hold’em. You can’t just expect pots to come to you. You gotta grab your opponent by the throat and rape the ever-loving **** out of him. You think a minbet is gonna win you a pot? You’re a pussy. This ain’t Angry running this table. Beef’s got the moves. Creativity. Artistry. You gotta unleash the overbet.

Okay, I’m shoving. Nice. Look how those chips all went into the middle. I look good. I bet I made that cocktail waitress wet her panties with that throw. She ****ing wants me. I bet she’d like it over the table. I can hit that with 100% equity, my dear. Mmmmmm. I am delicious.

Oh ****. Looks like he called. Again. Oh well. It still felt ****ing great to go all in. Tell me that wasn’t one of the prettiest bluffs you ever saw. You know what? Not only am I gonna shove the very next hand, I’m gonna put even more money in. Faster. You see SpiC sitting to my left? I’m gonna nail him right between the ****ing eyes with a good ‘ol Alex O Beef preflop shove. Why? Because I can.

This is Beef we’re talking about here. We’re talking 190 lbs. of steely intellect and sex appeal. I’m not just a poker player. I’m a poke-her player. Going all in tells all the Donkies that I am ****ing out there. On the edge. Where I gotta be. The ladies love the danger. The unpredictability. Oh, maybe I’ll tease them with a pot sized bet every now and again. But then I’m gonna go right back to throwing those chips in for all their worth. It tells them I ball like I ****. That’s how we do things in the sexy business.

Tell me you’re not turned on right now. I am.

**** it, I’m goin’ all in.

That’s all for now, as I’ve got no time. Game is at my house (the Cramped Quarters). More next week.

SpiC Out

Sireel’s Stats:  POKER 2011