Carpet Muncher

My dog Oscar is a carpet muncher... No - it's probably not what you think, he ACTUALLY eats carpets! It's a new habit - he chomps on the edges until they shred. I caught him in the act yesterday, and made a shocked sound - he looked at me with guilty eyes and took two steps back, then lay down, and rolled over on his back... Can't stay mad at the little guy.

The World Series of Poker is underway. Cardplayer.com will have full coverage details, and I'm counting on the boys at WickedChops for quality summaries.

I'm a big soccer fan, and I think the World Cup is one of the best sporting events out there, but this year's games have kinda sucked. I remember the 1994 World Cup for it's fast paced, wide open, full throttle play, and 1998 was the same way. The 2006 World Cup seems to be classified by the return of the exaggerated dive that made Americans hate soccer players in the first place. I never learned the "go down like you got shot by a bb gun in the hamstring" maneuver that almost ALL teams now seem to use as a staple - I always tried to stay on my feet when I got hit. Whereas in the old days we could count on a few dramatic Latin teams to take dives every time a player came near them, now it seems almost standard.

Sunday's Portugal - Netherlands game was one of the great all time games, featuring a record number of yellow cards. People are SHREDDING the ref for losing control of the game, but if you watched the game (and I sympathize, as a former official) - the game started to get rough, and he did exactly what he was supposed to do to try to TAKE control: he started handing out yellow cards the way I hand out stacks of chips when I have A-Q (which is to say, liberally.) Unfortunately, the players decided to completely ignore him, and continued to take cheap shots at one another. The ref was actually later quoted as saying something to the tune of how he was actually surprised that the Dutch players played so dirty, while he expected it from Portugal.

The highlight of the game came when Holland violated a classic piece of soccer etiquette: a Portuguese player was hurt on the field, so Portugal played the ball out of bounds. When play resumes, the accepted play is for Holland to take the ball and kick it back to the Portuguese side. However, the Dutch player with the ball, I think it was Van Persie, decided to dribble it up the field instead, as several Portuguese players watched in awe. A Portuguese midfielder took matters into his own hands (a la Kid Dynamite 1996 style) and crushed Van Persie from behind, earning a yellow card. The next time Van Persie got the ball, he was mauled again by another Portuguese defender. I think he got the point.

The quarterfinals will hopefully provide some incredible games, as all 8 teams are top notch. England has sucked thus far, and will be facing a depleted Portugal team that has given them a hard time lately in international play. France finally woke up and played decently against Spain, but will have a tough time with Brazil. Argentina-Germany figures to be a tremendous game, and I like Ukraine over the always over-dramatic Italians.

until next time,

KD

The Perfect Weapon

In college, I worked a few summers as a host and food runner at Legal Sea Foods in Chestnut Hill, MA. We'd get our share of "celebrities" - "The Human Highlight Reel" Dominique Wilkins, Mike Greenwell (yeah baby - Red Sox superstar for a very short time), former Celtic non-legend Eric Montross, and former Celtic legit-legend Robert "The Chief" Parish. I'll never forget the look on the old yenta's faces when Chief walked out of the dining room late Friday night, his head skimming the light fixtures - let's just say that there aren't a plethora of seven foot tall black men in Chestnut Hill. But the greatest story by far was

The Day Jeff Speakman Came to Town

It was a weekday at lunch - prime time for the restaurant, and we had an hour long wait for a table. I was using my charm, along with the similar skills of Josh, the other host, to pacify the throngs of fish-hungry patrons eager to sit. Suddenly, a woman comes up to our host stand, with full confidence, and explains, "I have Jeff Speakman in the car." Now you have to understand, Josh, myself, and Dave the Bartender are probably the only three people in the entire town who knew who Jeff Speakman was, but this woman, his agent, was acting like he was Tom Fuckin' Cruise or something.

We both reply in unison, "THE PERFECT WEAPON?"

She nods.

"Bring him in!" We declare, with no hesitation.

"Hey Dave," - I shout over to the bar - "Jeff Speakman is coming in!"

"THE PERFECT WEAPON?" Dave is down with it. We are laughing hysterically, realizing the irony of all three of us knowing this "star."

Speakman walks in, with another guy (sadly, NOT Michael Dudikoff, The American Ninja), and his agent, and we seat them in a table near the window. He has a head the size of a pumpkin - and hands like bear paws. Biggest friggin' head I've ever seen. His agent knows we're fans, since, well, we know who he is, and gives us business cards, telling us, "call me, I'll send you an autographed picture." I carried that business card in my wallet for at least 4 years, but I never did call.

Speakman's crew needed directions to the airport, and I got to go over and talk to him, drawing him a map on the back of the Legal Seafood placemat. Ahhh.. the good old days...

I saw Philip Seymour Hoffman on the street outside my apartment today - but even a brush with a Best Actor Oscar winner was nothing compared to the day The Perfect Weapon came to town.

-KD

Quotable

"I'll put the fuckin' straddle on you pussy" - Mike "The Mouth" Matusow on High Stakes Poker.

"There are no asterisks in this life, only scoreboards, and ours is currently reading: FUCKED." Ari the Agent on Entourage.

Play of the Week: Antonio "The Magician" Esfandiari, after getting all-in preflop with AA vs Sammy fairways A-9, watches the board come K-J-x-Q-T for a split pot. Instead of getting mad that this is at least the third time he hasn't won with aces in this game (at least he didn't get stacked this time), Antonio goes over to the two hired blondes at the bar to show them his chip tricks. He does the brilliant "rising chip" move, and the best part is the reaction of the girls: the one he's chasing hardest has the "oooohh, you are such a stud," face, while the other has the "Rocks'n'Rings are such a bunch of fuckin' tools, I can't believe you think girls like that crap," face. Antonio has the "I can't win with aces, but I can get laid at will with my magic skills and international exotic looks" face. After all, he can, and I quote directly from his website: "Mesmerize the gals with his gaze." No bullshit. I did not make that up.

until next time,
KD

Dog Whisperer

So do you want to know how friggin' awesome Oscar is? First of all, on Mother's Day, I took him for a walk early in the morning, and on the way he stopped to pick up a flower, stem and all, that was lying on the ground. He carried it home for Mrs. Dynamite! UN-REAL! He never carries stuff that he finds on the street, but he clearly is a genius. Then, after he chewed up my headphones a month ago, Mrs. Dynamite asked him "Oscar, what are you going to get {Kid Dynamite} for Father's Day?" (Nevermind that we call me "dad" and her "mom" - you KNOW he's our baby!). Oscar runs over to the night table where my headphones are, and picks them up! We'll get him new headphones! S-T-U-D. That's my boy.

He also peed on a guy's leg at my mom's retirement party this weekend. Alpha-dog cannot be denied.

-KD

Blogger Championship

Alas, I was unable to defend my 14th place finish in the World Blogger Championship of Online Poker (Freeroll, courtesy of PokerStars). I was cruising along, with about $4200 in chips, 40% above average, when I was moved to a new table, where 6 of the nine players were sitting out! problem was, one of the two other players had $22k in chips, and would NOT get out of my way! I actually managed to get stacked on a table with 6 hands worth of dead blinds! Un-fuckin-real. What should have been the perfect opportunity to steal free blinds became a nightmare when the big stack got in my way... and smooth called me... then check-raised me: 4 times. Fuck.

until next time,
KD

Awards

World Cup Celebration of the Day: Ecuador's Ivan Kaviedes, who pulled a bright yellow SpiderMan lucha-libre mask out of his shorts and donned it after scoring his team's third goal in the 90th minute. I did a little research, and it seems the celebration was a tribute to their late striker, Otilino Tenorio, who died last year in a car crash. Good stuff.

World Cup Play by Play Call of the Day: GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL de Suecia! After Sweden's Freddy Ljundberg scored the game winner in the 89th minute. Pioneered by Andres Cantor, and imitated by millions around the world. It never gets old.

Douche-ball Poker Play of the Week that Worked out Better Than Anyone Possibly Could Have Hoped: Danny Alai in High Stakes Poker. $100 antes, $300-$600 limits, with a $1200 straddle. Fred "dead money" Chammanara limps with A-7 suited. Danny Alai limps in the small blind with K-K! Huh? Limp-re-raises rarely work from the small blind Danny, and to make matters worse, Sammy Farha was the big blind - do you really want to play this pot out of position against Sammy and Fred, when Sammy will call the straddle with any two cards? But lo and behold, Sammy raises $5k more. As if Danny couldn't walk into any more luck, Fred re-raises all in for about $15k! Danny now pops it, Sammy folds, and Danny stacks Fred. I still hate how he played it.

And if anyone is wondering what doucheball means, it's the new douchebag. You heard it hear first.

until next time,
KD

Are You Ready for Some Futbol?

World Cup Fever is here. Walking home today, I saw people gathered outside a local cafe, 2 deep into the street. Hmmm - I wonder what they're filming in there that's attracting such a crowd - then I realized it was just spectators for the Brazil-Croatia game. Kaka scored the game winner, earning the "Best Name of a Goal Scorer Thus Far" award. This morning, the small island nation of Togo (which I could not find on a map if you offered me $50 million), earned the "Best Celebration After a Goal" award by doing something that looked like a cross between a cowboy jerking a horse's reigns, a begging puppy, and a hopping bunny. Good stuff.

I've had a recurring dream for the past 10 years or so that I have a big final coming up for which I'm completely unprepared. In my college days, this dream caused serious angst, and as the years went by, the panic slowly subsided, replaced by a sort of "hah- it was just a dream" relief. I had the dream again last night, but didn't even remember it until I walked down into the subway this morning. I also have a recurring dream that I'm playing big bet poker and my cards change on the river. In the wild game I played in last week, this actually happened to one of the players - on the river, his opponent announced "straight," and he claimed "flush" as he turned his cards over to scoop a $2,000 pot. The only problem was he didn't have a flush - he'd misread his hand. Oops.

Today Oscar and I went to the "Small Dog Run" at Washington Square Park. In this little area for dogs smaller than 25lbs, Oscar is one of the bigger dogs there, and seems to enjoy himself more. He did something new today: he tried to pee on a girl wearing a sundress. She was paying attention, and dodged it, but 3 minutes later he tried to pee on another woman! Whoa boy - easy! After luring everyone into a false sense of pee-free security 25 minutes later, Oscar returned to his first target, who was staring off into space, and unleashed a stream right on both of her ankles. I watched in horror/amusement from across the run, and my wide eyes darted to hers: she didn't notice! After a few seconds, it hit her, and she looked down, mouth agape, as my hand flew to my mouth to surpress my laughter. I apologized, but wasn't about to offer her my t-shirt to wipe off Oscar's assault. Oscar is clearly staking his claim to everything within this dog run.

On the way home we met a woman with a tiny black Chihuahua. "This is Lil' Negger," she introduced him. Whaaatttttt? I looked at Mrs. Dynamite. Mrs. Dynamite looked at me. L-I-L N-E-G-G-E-R? She mouthed to me, confirming. I shrugged. In New York City you really can't be surprised by anything anymore.

Until next time,
KD

$300 Bad Beat Umbrella

I woke up at 2am and realized I'd left my umbrella at the poker club. Fuck. Insta-TILT sets in, as I lie awake sweating. I just won $260, but I'm fucking furious that I forgot my umbrella, even after asking the guy next to me to remind me to grab it on my way out... Oh well, I'll just stop by on the way home from work to play a little and pick it up. Yes - like a well crafted sitcom, you KNOW where this is going...

No one likes to hear bad beat stories, so I'll save you the gory details, but suffice it to say that it cost me $300 to get my umbrella back, and one Friday Afternoon Tilt Inducing beat in a $700 pot.

And it didn't even rain.

Aiyahhh!

Here's a further analysis/discussion of the most interesting hand I played (LIKE A TOTAL PUSSY) last night: I was UTG + 1. UTG limped, and I raised to $10 with A-K. I had $750 in my stack, and was the shortest stack at the table.

Dave, a maniac, re-raised to $55 - ok great. However, Joe, immediately to Dave's left, min-re-re-raised to $110. Hmmm.. I've played several hours with Joe, and haven't known him to get out of line. I get a seriously bad feeling about his hand here. Mandy in the BB cold calls the $110, and Mark, the limper, calls as well. It's back to me, the initial raiser, in the middle of the action, with Dave still to act behind me.

I hated Joe's re-re-raise, so I considered folding. However, this game is probably way WAY too loose for me to muck A-K there. I thought "Hey KD, you're a stud - don't overplay A-K here - you're drawing slim," but still didn't think folding was right.

My next thought of course, as was the initial plan, was to move all-in. However, I figured to either

a) catch everyone out of line, which was a possibility, scooping nearly $400 in the pot.
b) get called by Joe's AA or KK and be up shit's creek
c) get called by Joe's QQ or worse, but have another problem because Mandy/Mark or Dave were holding some of my "outs," which was highly likely considering that they were all in the hand.

If I call, however, I can get stacked when I flop an ace or a king against a small set or two pair, but I can double up if one of my opponents holds a hand I dominate. Obviously, If one of my opponents has a hand like A-T, it makes it even harder for me to actually flop an ace...

So, what's your play here? Raise, Call, Fold???

The bottom line is that, sitting happily to Dave's right, where I don't mind letting him do the raising, trapping callers in between, and then re-raising to take down pots, THIS was the situation I was looking for. Of course, Joe got in the middle, fucked up my read and my vibe, and fucked up my plan, which caused me to abort my mission and simply CALL. Dave called as well, and we saw a Q-x-x flop, which was checked around (?!?!?)

When a seven came on the turn, Joe doubled up through Dave, with 7-7 vs K-Q. Nice trap Dave.

So, in retrospect, an all-in move would have been best preflop, had I put Joe on 7-7. I HATE his preflop play with that hand there, as it's not really a great hand to attempt to isolate Dave with there, with two very loose callers behind you in the form of Mark and Mandy, and the possibility that I decide to NOT play like a pussy and push MY premium hand as well.

Anyway, I played it cautious and Joe took down a monster pot.

In a game like this, with me in the 2 seat, maniac Dave in the 4 seat, loose wild Zeke in the 7 seat, uber-loose Mandy in the 10 seat, and calling station Mark in the 1 seat, I actually really like my position to the maniac's RIGHT. One school of thought is to sit to the maniac's left and re-raise isolate him, but I prefer to sit to his right, let him do my betting for me, and trap the field for large pots. Of course, if I'm going to use this strategy, it helps to actually EXECUTE it when the situation presents itself.

Until next time,
KD

Actual Poker Content?

Yeah baby - I actually played poker again tonight! Mrs. Dynamite went home for a few days, and took Oscar with her, so I was left with ample opportunity to take some beats, get felted, and suckout through the back door - just like a normal Thursday night (CHA-CHING!) I've been in a catatonic mood all week, which is never a good state to play poker in, but I was hoping a few suckouts with A-Q would cure my ills.

The live game I play in is sick beyond belief. It's 1-2NL, with a $750 max buy-in, which, in case you can't figure it out, means the stacks get very deep. It's generally regarded as the biggest 1-2 game on the East Coast, but that's just by the players who play in it. I think it probably is though - it plays bigger than MOST $2-$5 games. That also means that it's frequently very hard to put an opponent on a hand - and there are some SERIOUS action players. In other words, if you raise to $15 UTG, and get called 4 times, you do not feel good with your AA looking at a Q-8-6 two flushed board out of position - you had better be prepared to play big pots.

In my first orbit, Zeke raised to $15 in early position, and was called by Mandy and Mark, two loose players, before it got to me on the button with Friday in Vegas - JJ. I made it $75 to go, from a starting stack of $300, and Zeke called me. He checked the A-Q-x flop, and I checked behind him. He bet when another ace came on the turn, and was dismayed when I mucked, as he had QQ.

In the next orbit, I raised to $10 UTG with T-T, and got called 3 times, before Mandy in the SB made it $40. Mark called, and I had $228 in my stack. It was fold or move in, and in this game, it's clearly "MOVE IN." I moved in, and Mandy called me, prompting Mark to say "If you called, I call."

I shrugged, and was not happy with a final board of 2-6-J-Q-K, which was checked down all the way. I flipped my Tens faceup, and Mandy mucked (A-9 suited) and Mark showed his 8-8. JACKPOT!

After about 2 uneventful hours in which I made some interesting plays - calling big raises with big hands (A-K) and small raises with big hands (JJ) out of position, each time surrendering on the flop. The problem in this game is that If I reraise with JJ out of the BB, I'm playing a bigger pot out of position, still multiway, and losing the deception value of my hand. That, and, I'm a pussy after being away from the table for 10 weeks.

I played another interesting pot against Zeke, when in a straddled pot with 3 limpers, I made it $25 from the button with AsJs. Zeke called from the BB, as did Frank and Ben.

The flop came A-Q-8, with the Q-8 of hearts. They checked to me, and I bet $100. Zeke called quickly. I had $300 left, and he had about the same.

The turn was an offsuit 5, and before it hit the table, I was looking at Zeke, asking him, "Really?" regarding his flop call. "I have the nut flush draw," Zeke replied, as he turned the ace of hearts faceup. He checks.

Hmmm... Zeke is a smart, loose aggressive player. I ask him "Two pair WITH the flush draw? No - that's impossible - you said that before the 5 of clubs came out - you can't have A-5 of hearts...." I'm trying to put together the pieces: if I am beat (two pair) and I move in, I'm getting called... But if he's got the ace and the flush draw, he probably calls me too, in which case I'm making a positive EV pot-sized all-in turn bet. If I check behind Zeke, and he misses his flush, he may not pay me off on the river, but I may be able to catch him betting a worse ace than me, if he thinks he can run me off the hand.

He asks me how much I have left, even though the action's on me, and I count out $325. I ask "What will you do if you miss your flush draw?" "All-in" he replies.

Ok - I push my remaining chips in, and he mucks rather quickly. In reality, if I really believed he'd move in on the river with a bare ace and no flush, I should probably check the turn, but I thought my best option was to move in on the turn with my pot-sized bet. Anyway...

Dave, one of the wildest players in the game, later put a SICK move on Paul, one of the loosest, when, on the river, after check-calling $150 and $300 turn and river bets on an ace-high board, Dave went toward his stack, which was down to $680 or so. Paul interrupted him, "David - save your chips, I don't want your money," as he showed an ace. Dave paused momentarily, shook his head, and pushed his stack out anyway. "The ace doesn't scare me." Now, Dave is probably the loosest, most aggressive (and maniacal) player in the game, but he's also smart.

Paul, a pathological loose caller (and he has top fuckin' pair on a no-straight, no-flush board), mucks. On the way home later, I asked Dave if he had a hand there, and he told me no - I completely believe him.

Oh, if you haven't heard, PokerHost apparently got hacked. I'd be careful playing on any but the most legitimate sites...

Story Here.

until next time,
KD

Beam Me Up

First off, I'd like to thank Iggy @ GuinessandPoker for semi-pimping my blog. When Iggy, one of the original poker bloggers, speaks, people listen, and his site is far and away the leading source of referrals for Kid Dynamite's World.

I'm a frequent reader of ESPN's SportsGuy, Bill Simmons. In a recent column, Simmons mentioned that his "Unintentional Comedy Scale" would need to be completely re-calibrated to account for the surfacing of this classic William Shatner clip. In the simply MEZMERIZING video, from the 1978 Science Fiction Awards, Shatner gives his spoken word "interpretation" of Elton John's Rocket Man. It's flat out impossible to describe - go watch it right now (sound necessary) - I'll wait.

Ok - you watched the video? Now we can discuss it: Here's where SportsGuy was right, and some commenters seem to be missing the point: I think Shatner was completely serious when he was doing this performance. Nowadays, he's kinda a satire of himself, and he's in on the joke, but in this clip, he thinks he's the friggin' nuts. It's absolutely priceless - I can watch in on a loop, staring at the screen in awe, mouth agape. "And I'm gonna be hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh......as-a-kite-by-then......."

Finally, the animated TV show, The Family Guy, shows why it's one of the best shows on tv by parodying the Shatner clip - a reference so obscure that it's almost impossible for the average viewer to get, but if you're in on it, it's pure genius.

-KD

Bits and Pieces

I was heavily tilted by Bob Ciaffone's article in the latest Cardplayer regarding my worst nightmare: Pokertek (PTEK). If you've forgotten, the Pokertek table basically has players sitting at a table, playing internet poker against each other: each player has a display in front of them which only they can see - there is no dealer, no physical cards, and no physical chips - it's the equivalent of online poker, but you're playing against the 9 other people you are sitting with. Ciaffone calls it "the best of both worlds," as it speeds up the game and eliminates dealer errors.

Ciaffone notes: "One of the benefits of having a dealer is to keep the game moving along. For this reason, it is a good idea for a cardroom that’s using this computerized technology to designate a player in the game as the “table captain,” to keep the game moving and ensure that no improprieties take place, such as making comments during a hand about what someone might be holding."

I cringed as I read this, imagining all the old timer leatherass table captains I've met in every poker room - the last thing we need is these douchebags playing table cop.

I hit up Dirty Dave on IM, and complained to him.

"Ouch - like you need some leatherass playing Vichy cop on you,"
he's always the intellectual.

"dk" I responded - Wall Street talk for "Don't Know" - as in "I have no clue what you're talking about.

"Vichy, France: wartime rule" he explained.

"Hang on Voltaire," I blasted him with one of my favorite movie quotes from one of my favorite movie scenes of all time: let me explain.

In Swingers, Mike and Trent are in a diner, ordering some chow. Let's join the screenplay, courtesy of ScreenplaysForYou:

MIKE I'll have "pancakes in the Age of Enlightenment"
It goes over like a lead balloon.
WAITRESS And you?
TRENT I'll have the Blackbeard over easy.
WAITRESS I'll be back with the coffee.
She takes the menus and goes.
TRENT (genuinely) Nice, baby.
MIKE I should've said Renaissance, right? It went over her head.
TRENT Baby, you did fine.
MIKE (disgusted with himself) "Age of Enlightenment". Shit. Like some waitress in a Las Vegas coffee shop is going to get an obscure French philosophical reference. How demeaning. I may as well have just said "Let me jump your ignorant bones."...
TRENT ...Baby...
MIKE ... It's just, I thought "Renaissance" was too Excaliber, it's the wrong casino. She would've gotten it, though...
TRENT You did fine. Don't sweat her. We're meeting our honeys soon. You know Christy's friend is going to be money.
MIKE I hope so. (checks watch) We gotta go soon.
TRENT Baby, relax. It's just down the hall. She's gotta change... we'll be fine.
MIKE We didn't do so bad after all.
TRENT Baby, we're money.Mike tries to catch the attention of their waitress, who is passing with a huge platter containing a BREAKFAST BANQUET.
MIKE Excuse me. We're in a bit of a hurry.
WAITRESS Hang on, Voltaire.

Brilliant stuff. Anyway, in another completely random note, I saw Matt Pinfield, former MTV VJ extraordinaire on my corner today.

My knee is healing somewhat I think - I'm able to walk, but still limp slightly. Thanks for all the well-wishers. I even had three different random people on the streets of NYC offer me assistance.

Oscar's balls (or lack thereof) appear to be healing nicely - he gets his stitches out Monday.

Mrs. Dynamite and I took him with us to Philly last weekend for a wedding, and his good behavior when given free reign in the hotel room prompted us to decide to try giving him free reign of our apartment yesterday while we were at work, instead of confining him to the kitchen like we usually do. As Mrs. Dynamite put it to me when I got home, Oscar "violated the circle of trust," by pulling all the mulch out of the big potted plant we have in our dining room, running down the hall with it, and spraying it all over the bedroom. Good effort dude - back in the kitchen...

Previously, while Mrs. Dynamite was in the shower, Oscar did this with the toilet paper:

Elsewhere in my world, last night I went with some colleagues to DelFrisco's Steakhouse. I resisted the urge to comment when the waitress told us about the special: the bone-in ribeye ("Do you like the bone in? guffaw guffaw guffaw), but when I ordered the fillet, medium, she actually said, and I quote, "That's hot and red in the center, and pink toward the outside." Before I could even react, one of my compatriots blurted "JUST the way he likes it." Of course, I then had to tell my "$600 and ounce? sounds like my sperm" story.

I told you all about how Blogger shut me down for a week several months ago, since their proprietary software had decided that I was SPAM. Well, I'm on an email discussion list with some of my poker buddies, and I sent an email to the list, which my own email dumped into my SPAM folder. Ouch. That hurts. My own account think's I'm SPAM. I don't even know what to make of that.

Finally, I'm at war with Citibank: a friend of mine sent me a check, which eventually bounced when I deposited it in my account. Citi debits the check, fine, but then they also hit me with a $10 fee. What the fuck? Huh? I am the bouncee, not the bouncer - there is no fucking way I'm paying a fee, especially since I didn't even withdraw the money. I've told them this much, and threatened to close my account if they don't take the friggin' $10 off - DO YOU KNOW WHO THE FUCK I AM? Yeah, I know, it's only $10, but I'll spend 5 hours fighting in on principle.

until next time,

KD

Triage

I went to the ER yesterday for the first time in my life. I didn't really want to go, because, it's not like they're going to perform surgery on my knee there, so my thought process is generally, what's the point?

Anyway, unable to walk, I took a cab to St. Vincent's at 3pm on Saturday, and walked right into a made for TV scene - and Asian woman was reacting like an alien was about to pop out of her stomach - howling, laying on the floor, and arching her back like she was going through an Exorcism. It was freaky - and her two kids, a boy (about 10) and a girl (about 8) were bawling their eyes out as they watched their mom go bonkers.

Two minutes later, the woman was fine, and I asked the little guy, "Is that your mom?" He nodded. "She's gonna be ok - don't worry." He looked at me with wide eyes, unsure. "That was scary, huh?" I asked. He nodded. "She'll be fine," I hope I was right...

After that incident, there weren't any other stereotypical NYC ER scenes - just a bunch of weekend warriors (like myself) with sports-related injuries. A guy with an injured thumb... A guy with a busted ankle... A guy with a cut on his forehead...

I looked at the guy with the bad ankle, who was still wearing his tank top and athletic shorts. "Basketball?" I guessed. He nodded. "Soccer," I confessed, as they wheeled me to the FastTrack ward an hour later in a wheelchair, after taking my vitals (blood pressure good, temperature normal, pulse: 69). FastTrack is a new branch they have which is to treat non-life-threatening injuries, while the seriously injured people stay in the Triage ER section.

"Do you want some pain medication? We can give you a narcotic," The physician's assistant told me. "Yes, sure" I answered. "It will make you drowsy," she warned. Like I give a shit - give me the fuckin' percaset! They gave me one, and x-rayed my knee. X-rays were negative, of course, but they don't do MRI's in the ER - so I really don't know any more than I knew yesterday. They gave me a knee imobilizer, and a pair of crutches. The only problem is that the friggin' crutches hurt like hell to use! Now my armpits are bruised and killing me.

After an hour in the FastTrack ward I limped home. Eric came over later with his 5 month old baby boy, Luke.

"Luke, repeat after me: DOUCHEBAG. DOUCHEBAG. DOOOOOOSH BAAAAAG," I tried, but all luke would do was keep repeating a baby-babbly ga-ga that sounded like "All-in." Eric has already taught him well.

"Luke, Muh-ther-fuck-er" (Don't worry, I got permission to teach the kids bad words), but he just stared at me with empty eyes, and babbled "RAISE." Man this kid is tight aggressive.

I'm off to Philly for a wedding. Monday BBQ back here in NYC is imminent though.

until next time,
KD

P-Stars

Yeah b-yatch: Gonna defend my 14th place Blogger Tourney finish...

I have registered to play in the PokerStars World Blogger Championship of Online Poker!

This Online Poker Tournament is a No Limit Texas Holdem event exclusive to Bloggers.

Registration code: 7330476

Friday Night Lights

I was once a decent soccer player. Never a prolific goal scorer, at my peak, I could nevertheless defend along with the best of them. About 5 years ago I began playing with a group of guys in the city, friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend kind of thing, and the next thing you know we're playing together at least twice a week in two different leagues. We played mostly 6v6 on Friday nights at a rooftop field with a great view of downtown Manhattan and the Statue of Liberty, and 11 a side on Sundays up in Harlem. We were young, at least not old yet, and somewhat in shape. Over the years, the roster of players changed, and some of the cachet of playing with, and then going out drinking with the same guys every week wore off.

About a year ago, the not no-so-25-year-old version of myself volunteered to fill in for a missing player in a 7v7 Tuesday night league. I took a brutal kick to the shin, right on the side of the shinguard, that left a tennis-ball-sized welt on my leg. X-rays were negative, but I still have a bruise 12 months later, and hadn't played since.

Thursday afternoon, Gavin, the long time team captain, sent out an email desperately looking for a few more players for Friday night's game. Hmmm.. Weather? nice. Other obligations? None. Conditioning? Non-existent. List of players coming? Old school! It looked like almost our original team scheduled to play! I had to be there...

"Gav, I have to tell you - there's a remote chance I could play, but, no exaggeration, I get tired walking up the steps when I come out of the subway - I'm strictly an extra body to give someone else a breather," I responded.

"Rubbish - just come, none of us are fit," Gavin shot back, never failing to use a quirky Euro-term.

When I found out Friday's forecast called for massive thunderstorms, I hedged myself, "Gavin, I'm not playing if it rains hard."

"Your skin was meant to withstand rain," he wasn't in the mood for my whining.

"Yeah, but my skills weren't - I'm not going down with a pulled hammy from slipping on a wet field," I'm a total pussy, and although I enjoy kicking around with a group of guys I've known for years, I KNOW I'm out of shape, and do not need a Friday Night Injury.

Friday afternoon and evening turned out to be beautiful, but as I checked my email before the game, I realized that we were playing 8 on 8, on a full field, and that one possible teammate had just bailed, leaving us with only 8 players. Uh oh.

In a strange turn of events, Eric happened to be in New York, and I immediately called him, telling him that if he didn't come to the game, I was even money to be carted off with a heart condition.

As we arrived one by one at the field, the entrance of each player put a smile on everyone's face. Will? Will is here??! Holy crap. Kevin! Kid Dynamite? Dave! Josh! Good to see you! Unreal - this is like our vintage 2003 championship team. When Eric strolled in, we all just started laughing - it was like the old days - nothing had changed.

We ran around the field warming up, complaining of sore backs and tight hammy's, and placing bets on who'd have what injury. In the game, we took a 3-0 lead, dominating like the days of yore, before sportingly allowing our opponents to gain a ray of hope. 3-1. 10 minutes later, 3-2. Jeez, how long are these fucking halfs - 45 minutes? 22 minutes, I'm told, but I'd lay 5-1 odds we played at least 35 minute halfs. They tied the game 3-3, before we put it away with two late goals for a 5-3 victory. Of course, the game wouldn't be complete without me deciding I was going to make a run up the right wing, receiving a perfect pass from Gavin, and whiffing on a one-timer attempt, jamming my right leg in the process, and going down like I was shot. My right knee straightened, and the entire weight of my not-so-1996-fit body jammed into it, as I collapsed in a heap.

As I lay on the ground in agony, I could hear two of my friends laughing at my horrific goal scoring attempt, not realizing that I was actually hurt. People talk about "hearing a pop" when they tear their ACL. I tried to think - did I hear a pop? I think it was more of a crunch. I can flex my knee - maybe that's a good sign. "Usually if you tear your ACL or MCL, you can still move your knee," Eric crushes my optimism.

After the game, we used to go out drinking for hours at a local restaurant, Brothers BBQ, who eventually agreed to generously sponsor a few of our seasons. Nowadays, we limp home, puppies and babies in hand, and settle in to watch High Stakes Poker reruns, with Eric (who apparently lives in a log cabin with no tv or something, because he's the only poker player I know who watches absolutely ZERO poker on tv) analyzing every hand out loud, relishing the action like a kid on Christmas Day.

So, here I am, not sure how badly my knee is hurt, unable to walk on it, and not eager to go to the ER on Saturday of Memorial Day Weekend. Hopefully, it's not a torn ligament or something like that, but I've been lucky enough to have avoided knee problems throughout my athletic career, so I really don't know - all I know is that I can't walk. Fuck.

getting old,
KD

Teaching a New Dog New Tricks

I finally uploaded a crappy quality video of Oscar's patented "fetch the tissue trick." Mrs. Dynamite sneezes, and Oscar runs and gets her a tissue. S-T-U-D.

He's the frickin' MAN.

-KD

Nads

Oscar got neutered today. Sad, I know, but we didn't want him getting some bitch pregnant. Here's an old picture of his huge junk pre-op.

In addition, he got 4 teeth pulled - baby teeth that didn't fall out. The vet wanted them out because otherwise they cause all sorts of plaque buildup and infection problems later on.

Oscar is pretty pissed right now. He's all drugged up, laying in bed, giving me the sad face. I'll post some post-op pics, including his lampshade that he has to prevent him from pulling at his stitches.

In less depressing news, WickedChops proved their wicked interview chops once again by interviewing TJ Cloutier. It's not as good as their Kid Dynamite interview, but it proves that they have the chops to get a sit-down with TJ.

Bloomberg wrote a story about a Wall Street blog today, LeveragedSellout.com. It's absolutely fuckin' brilliant stuff - a satire on Wall Street (especially investment banking) life and culture. Apparently the kid who writes it doesn't even work for an investment bank, but gets stories from his friends that he adds artistic license too. The result is a brilliant satire, which some of his readers seem to miss the sarcasm and subtlety of, as can be seen in his comments.

Reading LeveragedSellout.com will bring back memories of American Psycho, one of my all time favorite movies, starring Christian "Batman" Bale (side note: the character Bale plays in Batman Begins is basically the same character he played in American Psycho - and he plays it to perfection). American Psycho is the ultimate satire of over-indulgent Wall Street culture, and of getting caught up in the Material World. If you haven't seen it, rent it ASAP. The book, by Brett Easton Ellis, is also exceptional, although much more graphic and gruesome than the movie.

until next time,

KD

Homegame Action

The weather cooperated yesterday afternoon, and we set up the table in my backyard for a 7 hour session of PL Hold'em and PL Omaha.

On the very first hand, H0nus stacked Drew in an unraised pot when they both checked the flop, and H0nus made his gutshot straight on the turn at the same time Drew made 2 pair + a flush draw.

H0nus later gave me those chips on this hand:

Mergie raised to $7 UTG, and H0nus called in the cutoff. Ollie called in the SB, and I called in the BB with 2-5 of diamonds, announcing "I want you all to know, I have a really bad hand - I warned you."

When the flop came 6c-4d-3d my rags were now the nuts, with a re-draw to the mortal nuts - an open ended straight-flush re-draw. Now, on to the important business - how to make money! I bet $10. Mergie folded, and H0nus raised to $25. Ollie folded, and I bumped it to $75.

H0nus starts to think. After a minute, I tell him: "I know what you have: K-J of diamonds." "Better," he says, "I have a big pair." "Uh oh - how big?" I ask, "Not bigger than eights right?" I'm deep inside his head now... Now, H0nus and I have had many a battle in the past, and he knows I love to push him around, so he thinks his J-J is good, and he's not crazy to think so. He goes into the tank for a full 3 minutes, and finally elects to put me all-in for about $67 more. I beat him into the pot, and my hand holds up.

The Chairman, Jay G, one of the founding members of the KD homegame made a triumphant return to the game. Although he and Greg continued to push for a session of PL 7CS high-low, several of us held out, in the interest of not losing our stacks in that unruly game. We instead settled on PL Omaha, and I made a monster laydown in the first orbit:

I limped UTG with A-2-7-8 single suited, and called when Mat made it $7 from the small blind. Mergie came along for the action. The flop came A-9-2 with two hearts (not my suit), and Mat bet into me, $15. I had a very bad feeling here, and just called the $15, as did Mergie.

The turn brought an ace - a card I really didn't like, even though it made me aces full. Mat again bet $40, and now I really didn't like my hand. I called the $40 though, and Mergie folded. Mat is a pretty tight, smart player, and I don't think he's betting anything less than the nuts here - A-9-x-x.

The river was the four of hearts, completing the possible flush draw, and Mat hemmed and hawed before betting $100 into me. I KNOW I'm beat - how can I call? I'm not THAT much of a hold'em playing Omaha novice - I know my hand is vulnerable, and against this specific opponent I'm in deep trouble. I shake my head, "How can I call?" "What's that? You call?" Mat inquires. "No, I didn't do anything yet."

I continue to deliberate, and finally say "Now I'm just trying to decide if I should muck my hand face up or face down!" Mat nods and says, "Just muck already - hurry up," and that seals it for me, I lay my cards face up. Jay has a look of horror on his face - which surprises me. I'm almost expecting him to say "Nice laydown," but instead he tells me "I make that laydown, exactly, NEVER." And Jay knows exactly what he's doing. In this situation, I could make the call if Mat kept his mouth shut, but I got a serious read on him, and I felt supremely confident in my fold, especially since Mat didn't show me a bluff after I mucked face up. Mat teased me off and on for the next several orbits, but eventually told me that he did indeed have A-9 along with the flush draw.

I only played one more pot of interest, when I found JJ - Friday in Vegas - in the small blind. Mat opened for $7 on the cutoff, and I made it $24 to go. Mat called.

The flop was A-A-6, and I check-called a $35 bet from Mat.

The turn was another 6, and I checked again. Mat bet $65, and I thought for a long time, before moving all-in for $87 more. I had decided I wasn't going to fold, and thus my decision was between

a) moving all-in, in which case I get called if Mat has an Ace, and otherwise take the pot down (if Mat has KK or QQ, he probably calls here too - I can't get a better hand to fold),

or

b) call and check the river with the intention of snapping off a 3-bullet bluff when Mat bluffs the river. The risk there is that he can spike a K,Q or underset on the river, and he may not bluff the river anyway.

I decided to move in, and Mat folded quickly.

We played until 11pm, with a spotlight and a lantern on the table, until finally the action dried up and we called it a night. All in all, a good time was had by all, and I came out with a monstrous $40 profit, much of which was due to my winning the race for the odd chips when we all cashed out.

until next time,
KD

Happy Fuckin' Friday!

Have you seen this video? If you're not from Boston or Chicago, you may have never seen a "piss trough" urinal before. They are really unmatched in male bathroom camaraderie - a bunch of dudes standing at a big long tub peeing into it while trying to act normal. Unmatched. This dude at Wrigley takes it to an entirely different level when he does a facefirst dive through the trough. Wow. Speechless.

I was walking into my apartment today with Oscar - who was wicked unruly on our walk. As I pulled my keys out, I looked at him and said "What's up Wild Man? What's the deal Bad Boy?" And a dude walking by stopped 5 steps past my place and started looking at me. Now, you have to understand, I live in a pretty gay neighborhood (not that there's anything wrong with that.) I suddenly realize the misinterpretation - this guy thinks I'm talking to him... I open my door, and look back - he's still looking at me. "Umm, I was talking to the dog," I explain. Johnny Cakes. He looks disappointed, shrugs, and keeps walking.

Until next time,
KD

That's the Spirit

I sent out an email to my "homegame" list, planning a Saturday afternoon poker game at my place. Mergie won the award for best decision:

"I did have a second date planned for Saturday, but Poker comes first. If she can't understand that, then she's not worth dating anyway. I'm in."

Attaboy Mergie.

Oscar and I just got caught outside in a thunderstorm. He friggin' HATES the rain, and tries to refuse to go out when it's raining. Unfortunately, I already have a note today from my dogwalker that notes that Oscar didn't do a "#2" this afternoon, so we're going out tonight sooner or later - rain or shine... This is my life.

-KD

Johnny Cakes

So did you see Sopranos this week? There is a great scene where Vito is doing some actual construction work, as opposed to the no-show construction work he's used to doing. There is a voiceover of Vito's inner monologue, basically saying "It must be 10:30 by now - don't look at your watch - save it - enjoy it," etc... then there's a cut, and Vito is still working, he's saying to himself "It's gotta be 11:30, maybe 11:45 - look at the angle of the sun - ok - go ahead - check your watch," he's just trying to make it to quitting time. He checks his watch: 9:55am. "FUCK ME!" Vito yells out loud - and I couldn't help but laugh - as I've definitely been there. Me and Vito are kindred spirits, only he's gay, fat, Italian, a total douchebag, a Yankee fan and a mobster. Other than that, he's just like me...

Oscar went to the groomer this weekend, where he got a stylin' trim. We just came back from yet another trip to the vet. He's trying to preserve his league leading status atop the West Village Animal Hospital appearances list. This time it was for a mysterious intermittent leg injury that he's been having. The vet couldn't diagnose the problem, but did surprise Oscar with his not-so-favorite test: the rectal thermometer. I was thinking, "Um, his leg hurts, he's not sick," but what the fuck do I know - I'm not a vet. I thought he had a luxated patella, which, in English means a bad kneecap. Little did I know that dogs only have kneecaps on their hind legs - the front legs are their arms, and thus have elbows. Oscar fought the backdoor intrusion like a champ, but I had to hold him and settle him down, as the last thing I need is a BROKEN rectal thermometer inside of him.

How about some ACTUAL POKER CONTENT at Kid Dynamite's World? I haven't played recently, but I have still been watching, among other poker shows, the World Poker Tour (hey, I'm a stockholder!), which is almost unwatchable in the wake of the stellar "High Stakes Poker" (season two debuts the first week in June!). So this week was WPT Tunica - Gold Strike, featuring Gavin Smith, Scotty Nguyen, and Michael "the Grinder" Mizrachi sitting right next to each other in that order. Scotty and Grinder are the chipleaders, and play a pivotal pot early, where Scotty has 4-4 in the small blind, and Grinder has 5-6 in the BB. Forgive me if I get the action wrong, but I think it was very close to this:

Scotty limps, Grinder checks (Grinder may have made a small raise, not sure).
Flop: K-x-7, rainbow. Scotty checks, Grinder bets around 1/2 pot, Scotty calls, and says "You're going to check the turn, so I call now."

Turn: 4, giving Scotty a set, and Grinder an open-ended straight draw. Scotty checks. Grinder says "He wants a check, give him a check" and checks behind.

river: 3. Grinder goes runner-runner nuts! Aiyahh! Scotty checks, and Grinder bets out about 2/3rds the pot, perhaps slightly less.

Scotty starts to think. He cuts his chips - and at one point he even says "I can't believe I could just call you here," but continues to cut his chips, and there is no action ruled. After several seconds, Scotty stacks his chips into the pot as he says "RAISE," and reaches back for his raising chips. Grinder, in a complete brain fart, turns his cards over!

The tourney director is called to make a ruling, and SOMEHOW, he rules that Scotty can just call the bet! Huh? There is no way that's correct. Scotty is obligated to a min-raise at least. Gavin Smith pipes in something about how "there was reason to believe he was beat," but I really couldn't catch what he was trying to say, or figure out if that had something to do with the Floor's decision.

Anyway, this was a pivotal hand, as Scotty would have clearly had a tough time getting away from his set of fours on this relatively non-threatening board against a player as aggressive as the Grinder. Scotty would have check-raised the river, and Grinder would have come over the top. Scotty may very well have had to pay Grinder off with his set, as he fears only a bigger set and exactly 5-6, and suspects that Grinder's re-raising hand range is wider than that. Then again, maybe Scotty would get away from it, who knows. In any case, it was a huge mistake for the Grinder, who ended up finishing second to Scotty.

Until next time,
KD

One of Those Days

Fuck Fuckity Fuck Fuck Fuck.

Man what a fucking day I'm having. Phone ringing off the hook regarding work annoyance after work annoyance... Then I walk into my apartment and the light bulb blows - and I can't find the light-bulb-changy-extension-thingy to reach it.

I've been on simmering TILT since Saturday, when I sat down to watch the Kentucky Derby with Mrs. Dynamite. My man Big Show was at the Derby, and ready to place a wager for me. I asked Mrs. Dynamite to pick two horses. "Barbaro and the #13 horse," she replied matter-of-factly. Of course, I didn't call Big Show and have him buy a ticket for me - it's more of a heads up friendly "who can pick the best horses" wager between Mrs. Dynamite and myself.

Murphy's Law: she woulda nailed the FUCKING EXACTA! Paid $550+ on a $2 bet. SONOFA... "If you'd given me a grand to bet we'd be rich right now," Mrs. Dynamite points out. "I woulda done it too," she adds... This coming from the woman who was scared to bet the free match-play chip at a casino on our St. Maarten vacation many years ago...

So at least the Sox thrashed the Evil Empire on Tuesday night, with the play of the game being Big Papi scoring from second on a hard hit ball to Matsui - unheard of to see the big man truckin' like that. I only wish he'd pancaked Posada at the plate.

Last night I had the misfortune of being at Yankee Stadium when the Sox blew a 3-0 lead and lost 7-3. And, there's nothing like having to listen to the game highlights on the radio of the car on the way home - when I'm jammed in the middle of the back seat. Big Papi did hit a monster dinger to the third deck in right field, and also beat out a deep infield hit! Speed!

At least Dirty Dave made me laugh today: There's been a takeover saga on Wall Street regarding Aztar corp - owners of the Tropicana. Several companies are locked in an outright bidding war for the company, with the latest bid now some 40% above the initial bid. Never mind that the valuations placed on the company are way out of the range of anything ever attained on the Vegas Strip - it's like the Dutch Tulip Mania or the Internet Bubble - these guys are DYING to own Aztar. So I ask Dirty Dave, "Can you believe this fucking Aztar?"

he replies:

"Pot. Pot. Pot. Pot. Pot. "

and I smiled and laughed out loud. Dirty Dave, Analogy Master, had nailed it perfectly once again. The bidding war was, in poker parlance, like watching opponents sit across from the table and fire pot-sized raises at each other in an attempt to take the pot down - only no one was blinking.

anyway...

-KD

Pissahs

So I'm reading Peter King's column this week, and he tells of his trip to Fenway for the Sox-Yanks series. In the newly renovated bathrooms at Red Sox Bar Cask and Flagon, King runs into a guy who, marveling at the new digs, blurts out, "Wow! What'd they do with these pissahs?"

As a Boston native, I long for the days of drunken' Bostonians using words like "Wicked" and "Pissah" - and even the only-understood-by-fellow-Bostonians: "Wicked pissah," which I think is the equivalent of England's "The Dog's Bollocks," also known as "The Nuts." So to recap: Pissah is a noun meaning "urinal" or an adjective meaning "cool". Wicked Pissah is something very good - like Big Papi hitting a 3 run homer in the bottom of the 8th against the yankees.

Speaking of Boston bar memories - I remember vividly my senior year, late one night at Whiskey's on Boylston street. I finish using the pissah, and one of the sinks is filled to the brim with puke. I hold my breath and clean up at the other sink, while I spot a dude hanging out in the bathroom eyeing the puke-filled sink. Feeling that something needed to be said, I tried, "Wow - I'm glad I don't have to clean that up." "I do - that's MY job," the poor sap replied, in despair. "Sorry bro' - what are you going to do?" I asked him. "I think I'm going to quit." he replied, quite honestly. Good times.

In other news, Oscar has "graduated" from puppy kindergarten. He has the diploma to prove it. Yes - it's on my 'fridge. I spent Saturday morning pulling two ticks off his face - fuckin' disgusting. Ticks are the most vile creatures you could imagine - their entire head burrows under the dog's skin, and their bodies plump up with blood. Usually if you dab them with a cotton-ball or q-tip soaked with rubbing alcohol, they will release their grip, but Oscar's two ticks were very close to his eyes, so I had to be very careful. Mrs. Dynamite and I couldn't subdue the little warrior with out tightest grips, and it took us several hours of coercing and restraint before I was able to extract both ticks with a pair of tweezers (making sure not to pull off the body and leave the embedded head.) I'm told Frontline flea & tick medication works well in preventing the parasites, and he'll be on that shortly.

until next time,
KD

F U E.S.P.N.

So I'm watching the Sox-Jays game on ESPN-HD. In the bottom of the second, 3-3 tie game, the Red Sox have the bases loaded with 1 out, and Mark Loretta coming to the plate. Suddenly, ESPN cuts away to a live Barry Bonds at bat. Not a split-screen view - they fucking CUT AWAY to Bonds! I am forced to watch Bonds ground out, and then the ESPN studio announcers take another 30 seconds before throwing the game back to the Fenway broadcast, where I see the Red Sox in the field! What the fuck?!?! The announcer casually mentions that Loretta hit into a double play.

Can't the fuckin' geniuses at ESPN come up with a better plan? They clearly don't want to sacrifice their valuable add time and show Bonds' at-bats during a commercial, but they could at least give us a split screen! Bonds isn't even close to the home run record - he's close to taking over SECOND PLACE! FUCK! Would anyone know if they just "pretended" that the Bonds at-bats were live, when in fact they were 5 minutes delayed until there was a suitable time to show them? Does anyone care about a Bonds at-bat if it's not a homer anyway? I'm certain there was not one Red Sox fan watching the game who was thinking "I don't care about Loretta and Big Papi coming up with the bases loaded - I wonder what Barry Bonds is doing right now."

fuck you ESPN.

-KD

Beast

So I'm lying on the couch watching the Sox-Yanks game, and I hear my wife howling from upstairs "Help! Aiyahh!"

"What's the matter?" I shout up the stairs.
"He's attacking me while I'm on the toilet!" Mrs. Dynamite squeaks back, while trying to fend off the attacker:

Yep. Oscar. The little guy has learned to identify optimal attacking times: like when his target is on the toilet, and thus less capable of defense... He got me with the same move this afternoon - it's harder than you think to defend yourself from a crazed Oscar using one arm, while you try to wipe your ass with the other...

This is my life...

-KD

Blogfiles

The Kid Dynamite Blogfiles is up on WickedChops. I just got back from Boston, so I have some catching up to do, but in the meantime, check out the interview on WCP.

-KD

State of the Union

So my main man Chops over at WickedChopsPoker did a "blogfiles" interview with me yesterday - it should come out very well when he posts it on his site later today. Dying to know who's at Kid Dynamite's dream poker table? Head over to WickedChops and check out the interview (I'd link to it of course, but it's not up yet). WickedChops should be on your daily blog-perusing list if it's not already. Someday Chops, Dirty Dave and I will team up to write the great American screenplay. I hate to put up a post that will bump the immortal David Williams post from the top of my blog, but the WickedChops - Kid Dynamite Blogfiles interview will be worth it.

Pokerwise: Still trying to rebound from the back to back poker disasters of two weeks ago, I have re-focused my game, and am playing flawless poker. I played 90 minutes of live 1-2NL on Monday night, for +$276, and 2 hours last night, for +$467. In between, I crushed Jordan's homegame tourney, but settled for second place.

Puppywise: Oscar is the cutest fucking dog you've ever seen. He's such a stud it's absolutely incredible. Take a look:

Drinking straight from the bottle - Boone's Farms Style - only he's drinking a $40 bottle of Pinot Noir from Napa. I told you he was spoiled.

In other news, Mrs. Dynamite was making Matzoh Ball soup last night, from some leftover chicken I'd made the night before. Since we're on vacation this week, and we've been hanging out in town, we've been trying to take advantage of the free time to cook dinner. My wife would definitely win any "Shikza Matzoh Ball Soup Making Contest."

I peer over Mrs. Dynamite's shoulder and ask: "You like making the matzoh balls small eh?" I try to make them the size of your nuts," she replied instantly and honestly. Touche. Blogworthy. Lemme tell you though - when the matzoh balls were done, they were effing huge baby.

I'm off to Boston for the weekend with the Mrs. and the puppy. We're doing an annual canoe relay race on the Charles with our families. So far I'm 3 for 3 in "years getting poison ivey on my legs" even though I still haven't seen the fucking ivey.

I'll leave you with one more Oscar picture for the weekend...

until next time,

KD

The American Dream

Warning: NSFW: links are not suitable for work.

So this NEEDS to be addressed... The David Williams Story.

I first read about the David Williams Story on NeverWinPoker.com, but it seems that the story has been circulating for years throughout Williams' old circle: the Magic community. Basically the story is this: Williams needed cash, so he appeared in a porno in which he spends a significant chunk of time chomping on the poop chute of a washed up C-level porn star.

There is a blog, StarkNakedPoker, with all the details of the saga, including links to video clips.

Now I can't be sure this is actually David Williams - it certainly looks like him, but you can bet your hershey highway I'd use it to put DW on TILT if I ever sat with him... "Wow.. Bad beat.. that sucks ass... No offense David..." "Anyone want to order food? I'll have a tossed salad... Oops - Sorry David." The possibilities are endless.

But here's the bottom line: If it is indeed David Williams in that video - kudos to him. What's a better poker story than this:

Young aspiring poker star gets taken to the felt, broke, and has to raise a new playing stake. Instead of playing on someone else's money for a share of the profits, he pimps himself out in a low grade porno, eating the ass of some Skinimax reject from 1985. Young Star takes the porno profits and enters a satellite for the WSOP Main Event. Young Star wins the satellite, and parlays the entry into a 2nd place finish, $2MM + payday at the World Series of Poker. That's better than the Mikey McD story from Rounders. That's the American Dream: wake up broke, eat ass, parlay payment into millions. Boo Yah.

I mean seriously, who hasn't eaten a little ass on camera to raise a buy-in when they were down to the felt and the game was still good? I can't be the only one... Guys? Guys???

No shame David - just pop a piece of Dentyne before you talk to me.

(Disclaimer: KD has never tossed salad on camera)

-KD

Surprise

Statcounter.com is a cool web tool that let you look at stats on your web page, such as how many unique visitors you have, how many page loads, how people got to your site, and what keyword searches your site was a result for.

I can only imagine the surprise on one douchebag's face when he searched for "barbershop hot lather shave gentlemen" and ended up with Dirty Dave's legendary guest post about a poop gone bad at Truefitt and Hill in Vegas on Six Sigma Sunday.

I also get a lot of hits from searches like "Phil Hellmuth Douchebag," "Sean Sheikhan," and "Peyton Manning's Wife."

I was going to write a post about Oscar's throbbing boner (uh oh, now I'll show up in some more totally fucked up searches), but as Bones noted, I don't have a good picture to go along with it, so I'll hold off for now. I'll throw in a bum-sniffing pic instead.

good times.

-KD

Sinking

Yesterday's session hurt. Thinking back about the session, I was very happy about my play in general: I took one vicious beat, missed a big draw, ran into one pretty cold deck, and was beaten by a better hand in another pot. The fourteen hundred dollar loss sucked, but I felt good about my play. I vowed to keep my composure, get back on the train, and start fresh today.

Today, I ground my stack up early, and then quickly got stacked by Chris on his first hand: I raised to $10 UTG with Friday in Vegas: JJ. Chris called, as did JD and one other, and we saw a 6-7-8 flop with two diamonds.

I bet $50 and was called by both players. On the turn, the jack of diamonds came. Aiyahh... speaking of cold decks. Chris has been playing ridiculously fast and loose lately, so I'm not planning to check-fold here. I bet $150, and he moves all-in for $180 more. Fuckin'A. I call and he has K-3 of diamonds. The board doesn't pair on the river.

Can I get away from this hand? Perhaps. This is one I can complain about all I want, but I didn't need to lose $330 more here on the turn. Indeed, the jack of diamonds was the worst card in the deck for me on the turn, but it's also conceivable I can give up on this pot against two opponents. The bottom line was, against these two opponents, in this game, I wasn't prepared to do so.

I rebought, and really focused. I played some of my best poker: managing to dodge bullets in difficult situations while fighting to stay afloat and maintain my discipline.

I raise to $15 in EP with KQ, and 5 players called me. I bet $75 into the flop of K-T-6, and Billy R on the button thought for 20 seconds before moving all-in. I had about $550 left, and he had me covered. Now, Billy was the one who stacked me a while back with AA vs. my KK, making a similar overbet which I called preflop. We've talked at length about that hand, and Billy knows that I'm a thinking player. So while I'd normally have to muck this KQ without hesitation, Billy is deep inside my head: I know that he knows that I know he's done this to me before... Does he put me on AK and expect me to call here? In any case, Billy is not the type of guy who puts his money in the pot in a situation like this drawing dead. At best I'm up against an open ender, or a flush draw. At worst I'm drawing almost dead to a set. I muck. Feel good about it KD.

I gained a lot of confidence when I beat my nemesis, Billy R, in the following pot:

Larry raised to $15, and Billy called. I was in the SB with JJ again, and made it $55 to go. Both players called. The flop came: 8-4-2. I checked. Larry checked. Billy bet $65, I called and Larry mucked. The turn was a nine, and I checked. Billy makes a comment about my subtle pinky finger check, and checks behind me. The river is a deuce, pairing the board. I check again. Billy bets $140 and I call, raking the pot when he shows 3-3. I like the way I played this hand: Billy is a very tough player, and I maximized my value here.

I was in for $1000, with about $950 in my stack, when I made the biggest mistake of the past two days - and it cost me. I can make all the excuses I want, and try justify my play, but the bottom line is, this was one of the worst calls I have made in recent memory. I can only hope this play is a lesson to someone reading this. Here's what happened:

I was in the SB with AA. There was a straddle, and two callers, before Ivan on the button made it $35. Now, Ivan is a big donater in the game: he's loose and wild, and will call down big bets with marginal hands. The strategy for beating Ivan is simple: make a hand and bet it.

I raised to $85, and everyone folded to Ivan, who said "You want $50 more of my money eh? Ok." and called.

The flop was Q-6-4 rainbow. I bet $100, Ivan called. This could mean he has a queen (he may frequently raise a queen here, but will also smooth call), or any pair between 6's and Q's.

The turn is a 3, and I bet $250. Ivan says "I'm all-in," and I jump up from the table. Fuck. The dealer burn a card and goes to deal the turn card and the whole table yells at him to stop - as I haven't acted yet.

Now, the easy reasoning is "It's Ivan - he could have anything, I call," but I'm smarter than that. More importantly, I know Ivan's smarter than that. Ivan is very difficult to put on a hand, but the bottom line is, he's extremely unlikely to raise me here with A-Q, K-Q a weaker Q, or any other hand I can beat. I don't think he has KK, but I do think he'd play KK like this. Ivan is not stupid - he usually has a hand like two pair or a bigger made hand here. I know this - it's an easy laydown.

I look at Ivan. "I have aces." I tell him. "That's not the hand I put you on," he responds. Muck. Muck!. Muck the hand KD - the voices in my head are screaming. You cannot be winning. But it's IVAN! I respond to the voices. He could have anything! You know that's not true - come on - you're plenty good enough to release these aces.

The table calls the clock on me. I ask Ivan "If I fold will you show me?" "No," he answers. If he says yes, I'm calling in a heartbeat. But he said "No" - of course he did - he has a monster and wants me to call! This is such and easy fold I can't believe it. I count and recount my chips. I stand up and scratch my head. The dealer counts down. 30 seconds left.

I stack my chips. I'm mucking. I shake my head. I look at Ivan. "Ten. nine. eight. seven..." and a last thought goes through my head, proving I've hit rock botton: If I win this pot, I could dig myself out of the hole I've been sliding into for the last two days. My hands, as if acting on their own, push my $550+ chips neatly into the pot, as I watch in horror.

Ivan turns of 6-6: he flopped a set. The river is a ten, and I shake my head. No excuses. Digging myself out of the hole? Come on... I just dug myself into a hole that I have no chance of getting out of. Bad call. "It's Ivan, he could have anything" simply doesn't work as an excuse for a good player, which I envision myself as. Despite my brilliant play over the session, this one mistake cost me about $1k. It wasn't bad luck. It wasn't a cold deck, it was a bad play.

I rebought, got ground down to $225, and lost my remaining stack with 2-2 in this cold-deck situation that typified the victim mindset I fell into: Ivan made it $20 preflop and 5 of us called. The flop came Q-Q-2 with two hearts. It was checked around. Turn: 8 of hearts. Bobby checked. Ivan bet $85. I moved all in for $205. Bobby called. Ivan called. I show my had to Sal, next to me, and he pats me on the arm, whispering "There you go!" "I am not winning this pot," I sigh to him, beaten.

River: Jack of hearts: Bobby bets $300 and Ivan mucks. Bobby turns over - I don't even need to see it - I know already: Q-8. Unreal. I toss my 2-2 on the felt, eliciting moans of worthless sympathy. Could I have bet the flop? Of course - but it wouldn't have made a difference. Bobby does not release a queen here. And my equity in letting the flush draws chase their heart drawing dead was more than worth it anyway, considering that a queen isn't folding. Cold Fucking Deck.

I walk out into the rain without an umbrella, and manage to laugh at the situation. More bad fucking luck. More cold fucking decks. Then I think back to the fact that the big pot I lost had nothing to do with luck - NO EXCUSES - it was my own stubbornness, TILT, and desperation that cost me an extra $550 with aces in a hopeless situation.

I hit "play" on my Ipod, forgetting where I had stopped the music. Pearl Jam: Alive. "Ohhhh, I'm still alive," Eddie Vedder wails, as I laugh again, and smile at the omen: yeah - I'm still alive. I'm shaking my head as I walk toward the subway in a slow, steady rain. The next song comes on: Why Go: with Vedder shrieking "Why go home? Why go home? Why go home?" Is someone trying to tell me something? I look for the hidden message... But I'm going home: I know why....

Cause it's not all about some bad calls and bad beats...

Live and learn.

-KD

Soapbox

I'm a big fan of Tasti-D-Lite - the low calorie, lactose free, mostly flavorless ice cream alternative - but their hazing has to stop. Every few months when I go into my local Tasti-D for an after dinner helping of bland, not-so-unhealthy desert substance, there is a new girl behind the counter with a tag on her shirt that reads: "TRAINEE."

Now, although I consider myself smarter than the average bear, and like Bobby Bracelet, I scorn the stupid, I have faith in the ability of the average NYC employee to effectively dispense a soft serve ice cream substitute into a cone or cup by pulling a lever on a machine. Where does the training come in? Hazing. That's all. The veteran Alpha-Tasti-D-Female in residence makes this pledge wear the TRAINEE badge to let her know: "Hey - you think you've got it all figured out, but I've been dispensing wafer cones since you were in diapers," even though the veteran has only been there 4 months. Always puts a smile on my face.

And while I'm ranting: lemme talk about this New Jersey smoking ban. New Jersey has banned smoking in indoor places: bars, restaurants, etc, following in the footsteps of New York, Massachusetts, and several other states. Great stuff - I applaud them - but there is one major problem: the ban doesn't apply on the floor of Atlantic City casinos!

What? Now in NYC, when bars complained that they would lose business to the smoking ban, they were full of shit: every bar and nightspot was on equal footing: unless smokers ceased going out entirely, which did not happen, business would go on. In New Jersey, however, even though casinos already have the most addictive product on the market: the allure of easy money, their lobbyists somehow convinced the legislature to give them a monopoly on the second most addictive product: nicotine. That is a big load of crap - and local NJ business have every right to be pissed.

That is all.

I'm going to get a haircut today - very exciting - and then I will make my Ali-like return to the felt for some live NL play.

-KD

Bloodbath

You know you're a pro when you can get railed in the backdoor and not even flinch. Wait - let me rephrase that, and add some details.

I played 4 hours of live 1-2NL today. The game was wild: loose action and huge pots. I bided my time, patiently mucking my trash hands and my missed flops, until, 90 minutes into the session, I played the pot I was waiting for against an action player. Two players limped, and the cutoff, Bobby, raised to $15. I called with 4-4 in the small blind, and $600 in my stack (Bobby had me covered). Two other came along.

flop: 2-4-Q rainbow. I bet out $40, and a limper called, as did Bobby.

The turn brought a jack, and Bobby flinched visibly. I bet $100, and with little hesitation, he raised it to $300. I counted down my chips: I had $460 left, which I pushed in. He called the last $160, and Eddie dealt the river:

Queen. I tabled my 4-4, and Bobby showed Q-J. Aiyahh! Railed in the backdoor for a $1300 pot - and I took it like a man. Right in the poop chute. "Chips."

Unfortunately, the rest of the session didn't get any better. I got stacked with AJ suited in diamonds after this action: I raise UTG to $10, and get 5 callers. Larry in the SB bumps it to $20 - a strange move: he's kinda on tilt, but he doesn't make this move without a hand he wants to play a big pot with. The BB calls in between us, and I debate a raise, but settle on a call. Everyone comes along. We see the flop:

2-3-Q with two diamonds. Larry checks, the BB bets out $55, and I raise to $255. It's folded to Sal who moves all-in - he clearly has a set, and I call my remaining $150 to see his set of threes. The turn brings an ace, and the river is the 7 of clubs: I'm left digging into my pocket again.

Sal took another few hundred from me when he flopped a set of sixes vs. my QJ on a A-J-6 board, and called my $25 bet.. The turn brought a jack - the only card in the deck that would get me to put more money in, as it was clear I was previously behind. I checkraised his $50 bet to $200, and he came over the top all-in, but prematurely turned his cards over! I mucked, saving my last $160 - which I lost a few hands later when my TT ran into Will's QQ.

Net for the session: -$1400. Ouch. One of my worst ever.

random thought: Have you seen Jeremy Piven's travel show? Lemme put it this way: I don't want to watch Jeremy Piven travel to India unless he's doing it in character as Ari the Agent from Entourage. 'Nuff Said.

until next time,
KD

Phil Fun

Thanks to Paul Phillips for providing this tidbit: Bill vs Phil. If you're having trouble getting the Quicktime video on the site to play, go to a computer where you can get it to work. It's worth it. Priceless. I give this clip to all of you as a present on my birthday. Yes - Wednesday, April 12th is the day: Kid Dynamite's 30th B'day. It's a big number, so allow me the shameless self promotion.

For my birthday wish, I can only hope that poker players all over the world will make 2006 the year of the Phil Hellmuth song, which they will sing whenever they stack an opponent... "You don't... wanna mess with Hellmuth - Why? 'Cause Hellmuth... will freakin' bust you." (sung in a douche-baggish Hellmuth sing-song voice)

A poster (The_Groove) on Paul's journal said is best: "If I had to devise a formula to create the prototypical jackass, the end result would be very close to Phil Hellmuth."

-KD

Spring Fever

Red Sox Nation is ablaze with a fresh season of hopes and dreams, and enamored with young gun closer Jonathan Papelbon, new ace Josh Beckett, and new faces all over the infield. Spring optimism now carries the weight of real expectations - not eternal disappointment, after the conquest in the 2004 season (which also finally featured the wedding of KD and Mrs. D).

As a Red Sox fan in New York, it comes from all sides: Big MO and H0nus send the good messages, words of Sox support ("Another 1-2-3 inning for Beckett," "Pap is a stud"). Zray represents the dark side: blasting me on AIM to tell me that Johnny "Judas" Damon doubled in his first at bat in Yankee Stadium. I retaliate by hitting Yankee fan EddieHilz with a screenshot of the AL East standings, and a simple message: Suck It. He ignores me.

We watch not only our own box scores, but those of The Enemy. Sox win... "How'd the Yanks do?" It's reflex. It's all that matters. Never mind that several baseball minds picked Toronto to win the AL East this year (I'd take the Sox/Yanks over Toronto any day.) The Yankees are the competition.

The season is young, but now that the Red Sox have finally proved to be more than the little brother who sits there and takes his beating, the rivalry here in New York is better than ever. Now the Sox have a hope. Now it's a fair fight. Well, almost fair...

But the best tidbit of the young season: Pitcher Bronson Arroyo - who the Red Sox traded to Cincinnati for Willy Mo Pena (who let a ball bounce off his glove into the bullpen for a homer today), is 2-0 with a 1.98 ERA... and TWO HOME RUNS! Yes - Bronson has HIT two home runs! Unreal.

Meanwhile, back in Red Sox Nation, Coco Crisp has a broken finger, Trot Nixon has a pulled groin, and Keith Foulke is a shell of his former self (note: Keith Foulke almost singlehandedly won the Red Sox the World Series in 2004 with impeccable pitching in zero margin of error situations time after time and inning after inning - it's essential that people remember this). On the flip side, Big Papi has a new contract, Manny is happy for the moment, and Schilling is throwing 96 mph on his 110th pitch. Papelbon has the entire town talking, and Beckett is getting fired up.

It's gonna be another wild ride.

-KD

Quote of the Day

"I am pleased the Ministry of Culture is protecting the morals of expatriate bankers and their girlfriends." - Mick Jagger, Rolling Stones

The Stones played Shanghai, China last night, the culmination of an arduous road that resulted in the Chinese Ministry of Culture barring them from performing 5 songs ("Brown Sugar," "Beast of Burden," "Let's Spend the Night Together," "Honky Tonk Women" and "Rough Justice" ) which are, I suppose, the tool of the White Devil. The funny thing is, the ticket prices ranged from the equivalent of about $40 to $500, which meant that very few Chinese citizens could afford them, and prompted Mick's sarcastic quote above.

non-sequitors:

-I played 3 hours of live NL Hold'em last night, and finished down $235, thanks to a poor decision which resulted in my inability to release a hand that was clearly not best. I also played a few pots in fine form, which was a positive, at least.

-Bobby Bracelet is raising funds in memory of a friend's battle with cancer. If you'd like to support him, you can find the details on his web page.

-Oscar is recovering from Colitis - an infection of the colon, and he's got a bunch of new toys. Here's a picture of him pouncing on his cousin Gustav.

-A few precious days remain until I'm officially "Old." Tonight's forecast calls for "Severe drunkenness, with an 80% chance of feeling like crap tomorrow."

-KD

Somebody Has to Say It

Phil Hellmuth is a pussy. There. I said it. I hope Phil doesn't use his uber-celebrity clout to have Google shut me down again...

If you aren't watching High Stakes Poker on GSN, you should be. Last week, Phil Hellmuth joined the game, prompting Danny Negreanu, stuck 700k, to cheer up visibly in his chair, as he exclaimed "I didn't think I'd have a chance to get even, but I didn't know you were coming - how much money did you bring?" Danny later explains that Phil is what's known as a "yum-yum" - a player they LOVE to have in the game.

So, why do these pros love having Phil "NINE TIME WSOP bracelet winner" Hellmuth in their game? Because he's a pussy! If you're going to play high stakes no limit poker, you cannot be a pussy.

In one particular hand, Phil, holding 6-8 (the Vortex!) gets all in against Barry Greenstein (holding K-T) on a T-6-6 board. Phil asks the dealer to hold on for a second, as he counts his chips. Danny, eager to try to get out of his $700k hole, says "What are we waiting for?"

Phil replies, "I was told I could get insurance."
"You can run it twice" Todd Brunson chimes in.
"Insurance from WHO?" Danny is practically laughing now, in shock.
"Barry will insure me." Phil replies.
"Sure," Barry is quick to grab free EV when he sees it.

Now Sheik chimes in something, and Phil retorts, "I'm rich Kid, I want to stay that way."

Now let me explain: Phil was a 90-10 favorite. He knew this and Barry knew this. Phil proposed 10% insurance on $100k of the $160k pot, which means he pays a 10% vig, and locks up his reduced equity on a portion of the pot. In this case, they basically take $100k out of the pot, and Phil gets $80k, giving Barry $20k. They then deal the turn and river for the balance of the pot. So, long story short, Phil gave Barry $10k in EV to reduce his variance. And he wonders why he gets no respect in the game?

After playing in the wildest game I've ever seen, the Mirage Six Sigma Sunday game, I had numerous discussions with my poker peeps about the willingness that a poker player should have to seek out positive EV situations. My question was getting down to the essence of "If I have AT suited, and my maniacal opponent is moving all in every hand, shouldn't I be willing to call off my $1000 stack with this hand that figures to be way better than average. The answer was "not necessarily," as there are many other factors in play, such as a) there was a max buy-in at the table ($500), which meant that there was some value to the fact that I had a bigger stack, and could potentially find a HIGHER EV situation to apply it. b) This is not "the long run" - this game could end at any time.

Essentially, I felt that if I figured to be a 3-2 favorite, and I wanted to call myself a poker player, I should be willing to commit my stack in this spot. My colleagues argued that to be called a poker player does not mean you have to accept every potentially positive EV situation offered - you have to consider the likelihood that you'll be able to find a BETTER situation with more EV.

Now, back to Phil. He was already committed in the pot, and flat out gave away EV. That is not something a poker player does. Ever. Especially if he wants respect at the table, and doesn't want the other players to repeatedly take advantage of his puss-itude by running him over for the rest of his life. Ok, there is some point where I will concede that the size of the pot would dictate that it would be acceptable for a player to puss out and try to lock up some of it, but in this game, $160k was NOT that size.

Hellmuth tries to defend himself to the wide eyed Daniel Negreanu, who seems like he wants to reach across the table and grab Phil by the neck, shouting "I can't believe you are such a colossal fucking pussy - and you call yourself a poker player?!?!?." Phil says "Ivey was giving me insurance all day - 10%, 5% even. All I had to do was call him and explain the situation." What Hellmuth is saying, I think, is that Ivey agreed to take Hellmuth's variance in exchange for a vig - Ivey wasn't even at the table, Hellmuth just had to call him up and explain the situation to him! Fuckin'A!!!! Hey Hellmuth - if you're giving away EV, call ME! I'll insure your hands you pussy!

Negreanu responds: "Of course he (Ivey) was - he's a smart guy - he'll take free money if you're giving it away."

The bottom line is, if Phil Hellmuth is asking for insurance on a $160k pot here, he shouldn't be in the game. By all means: run it twice - run it three times, chop the pot based on EV... But don't pay a vig for your puss-itude. And seriously: when the table runs you the fuck over afterwards, don't raise your hands to the sky and wonder why.

In this week's episode, Phil repeatedly made bets in the neighborhood of 1/6th the pot size or less... He bet $3k into a $16k pot... He bet $1k into an $8k pot... and more. Every time he was run out of the pot. If Phil is trying to set up his opponents so that he traps them when he finally makes a big hand, I would suggest he come up with a new game plan. He's not fooling anyone at this table, and the one time last week he decided to slowplay his QQ, he checked his way right into Jen Harman making a 1 card straight with her 8-4 offsuit, and lost the pot.

Of course, Phil finally gets fed up with being run over, and takes a stand with 6-6 on a 2-5-8 board when Barry puts him all in. Barry has a set of deuces, and Phil is liquidated AGAIN.

Nice hand sir.

-KD

The Ultimate Insult

So, last week I go to post some rambling blog post about my puppy, or how much Phil Hellmuth sucks, and Blogger tells me that my blog has been flagged by their automatic software as a "SPAM blog"...

"The ease of creating and updating webpages with Blogger has made it particularly prone to a form of behavior known as link spamming. Blogs engaged in this behavior are called spam blogs, and can be recognized by their irrelevant, repetitive, or nonsensical text, along with a large number of links, usually all pointing to a single site."

Wow - talk about a fuckin' insult.... Irrelevant, repetitive, nonsensical. That hurts. So, in true un-American fashion, Blogger declared me GUILTY until proven innocent, and took away my ability to post! The other problem is, they ignored my desperate emails pleas (insisting that although I may be irrelevant and repetitive, I am most certainly NOT Spam!) for four days. Now, however, one week shy of my 30th b'day, I'm back. Certified Unspamified. Whitelisted. Phew.

I guess I can't write "Do not fuck with Phil Ivey" three times in a row, or some process thinks I'm spam. And the patented Bobby Bracelet self link technique is also spam-escent. Even though I post a lot of pictures of my boy Oscar, I don't see how those could be read as SPAM...

Bones was just about to start an uprising at his French bank, out of RAGE at my being unable to post and fresh ramblings - and believe me - you do NOT want angry Frenchies raging against you Blogger!

So, Phil Hellmuth will get another day of reprieve, before I mercilessly tear him apart in a post soon to come.

until next time,
KD