Oh ... Canada
I’ve almost learned the words to your national anthem. I’ve spent money at your tourist traps and have been a profligate user of paper products. I’m sure I’m good for at least 5 or 10 percent of your country’s gross GDP.
Why, Canada, why?
It is ridiculously cold here on the North Coast. The vapid but beautiful weather gal tells me this bone-chilling air comes courtesy of something called an Alberta clipper. I admit to being geographically challenged, but I’m fairly certain Alberta is in freakin’ Canada. WTF? Who let this Arctic mass in? Where’s the Border Patrol when we need it?
Autobiographical interlude:
Work caused me to attend a court hearing outside of Toronto a few years ago. At the start of the proceedings, an officious bailiff told us to stand and ordered us to pay attention or some such nonsense and then ended the spiel with an invocation of “God Save the Queen.”
Jingo is not among the isms I embrace, but I was surprised by my reaction. It rankled that I had been asked to pay minor fealty to some rich old bag living the surreal life courtesy of the public dole. Christ, that was a war we actually managed to win. It struck as responsive a chord with me as an offering of “urinal cake” on a dessert cart.
(Never mind the fact that my father’s side of the family arrived in Amurrrica in 1730 carrying a land grant from King George II, payment for helping subjugate the Irish masses in Ulster.)
What does any of this have to do with poker, you ask? Not a damn thing. Even I, the great conjurer of strange transitions, cannot link the extreme cold, the queen and downtrodden Irishmen to poker.
But that's okay. I attended a writing seminar once where the speaker said we should not be afraid to “show the bones” in our writing. This post does just that. Downright anorexic, really.
But here is some poker content:
Last Wednesday, I jumped into the cash game at Brian Wilson’s and employed a new strategy: Play as many hands as possible. Why, you ask? Because I could. It didn’t take me too long to accumulate two extra buy-ins and not much longer to find myself down more than half a buy-in. By the time I dragged my ass out of the basement at 4 a.m., I found myself up an impressive $4. Woooot.
The game was tougher than usual and featured some of the regular $1/2 crowd. The quality of my play veered from donkimus maximus to (ahem) freakin' brilliant. It was good to push my personal poker envelope and ended up being the most fun I’ve had at the table in awhile.
And now some poker blogging content:
I don't pimp other blogs much, but here is some that is richly deserved. This Dude is one of the best storytellers in the poker-blogging universe. His posts are always a treat.
Why, Canada, why?
It is ridiculously cold here on the North Coast. The vapid but beautiful weather gal tells me this bone-chilling air comes courtesy of something called an Alberta clipper. I admit to being geographically challenged, but I’m fairly certain Alberta is in freakin’ Canada. WTF? Who let this Arctic mass in? Where’s the Border Patrol when we need it?
Autobiographical interlude:
Work caused me to attend a court hearing outside of Toronto a few years ago. At the start of the proceedings, an officious bailiff told us to stand and ordered us to pay attention or some such nonsense and then ended the spiel with an invocation of “God Save the Queen.”
Jingo is not among the isms I embrace, but I was surprised by my reaction. It rankled that I had been asked to pay minor fealty to some rich old bag living the surreal life courtesy of the public dole. Christ, that was a war we actually managed to win. It struck as responsive a chord with me as an offering of “urinal cake” on a dessert cart.
(Never mind the fact that my father’s side of the family arrived in Amurrrica in 1730 carrying a land grant from King George II, payment for helping subjugate the Irish masses in Ulster.)
What does any of this have to do with poker, you ask? Not a damn thing. Even I, the great conjurer of strange transitions, cannot link the extreme cold, the queen and downtrodden Irishmen to poker.
But that's okay. I attended a writing seminar once where the speaker said we should not be afraid to “show the bones” in our writing. This post does just that. Downright anorexic, really.
But here is some poker content:
Last Wednesday, I jumped into the cash game at Brian Wilson’s and employed a new strategy: Play as many hands as possible. Why, you ask? Because I could. It didn’t take me too long to accumulate two extra buy-ins and not much longer to find myself down more than half a buy-in. By the time I dragged my ass out of the basement at 4 a.m., I found myself up an impressive $4. Woooot.
The game was tougher than usual and featured some of the regular $1/2 crowd. The quality of my play veered from donkimus maximus to (ahem) freakin' brilliant. It was good to push my personal poker envelope and ended up being the most fun I’ve had at the table in awhile.
And now some poker blogging content:
I don't pimp other blogs much, but here is some that is richly deserved. This Dude is one of the best storytellers in the poker-blogging universe. His posts are always a treat.
posted by Poker Jones at 8:24 PM
2 Comments:
When you move to Canada, choose Vancouver. It is the best.
When you move to Canada, choose Toronto. It is a real city.
*grin*
Post a Comment
<< Home