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Everything posted by lotgrinder

  1. Not our fault everyone's attention spans are reduced to shit memes and thirty second "Fake News" snippets. Thanks for the kind words!
  2. Yesterday I woke up, worked out, and then for some strange reason decided to dress up nice for the casino. I put on my brand new blue Brooks shoes, the nice soft white khaki shorts with pockets down by the knees that I usually fill with drugs at a music festival, and a red Polo t-shirt my that was one of the last things my Papa bought me before he passed away. The outfit, quite simply, should have just been described as"American Glory," so that's what I signed into the poker list as with hopes to piss off any lying crooked hill-bots lurking around the poker room. Eventually, "American Glory," was called over the MGM loud speaker and I could see a few liberal guys whose mother's and wife's still dress them start to groan, but when I got to the table I sat down and started holding court as usual. One of the girls that usually plays there who doesn't think I'm completely disgusting yet says, "Wow dish washer! You look really nice today! Did you just come from a date?" I wanted to make sure she knows that I am never going to play soft in a pot against her like so many other loser men do so I say, "No. I would never get all churched up like this for a woman. I would never do anything pathetic like that. You don't get to where I am in life by trying, at anything. I've done a lot of stupid shit in my life, but I quit dressing up for a woman or asking one out on a date a long time ago. Dating is for complete losers. I'm just a loser." "What's marriage then?" She asked, and I was hoping she would because the two sour liberal pussies I don't like at the poker table had wedding rings on so I replied, "A jail cell." Then a nice old lady named Gloria and an older man named Sam were like, "What do you mean not trying has got you to where you are in life? You try to win at poker!" I replied, "No. No. No. I don't. I never ever try to be the best player at the table. I wait for all the morons to try to be the best poker player and I capitalize off their egos and mistakes. If you try too hard at anything. You fail. Take women for instance. I used to call them and call them all the time in my teens and early twenties. I was like Trump when he offered to buy that married woman furniture and didn't get fucked. I failed. And I failed because I tried too hard. But, then I had my epiphany." "And what was that?" They both asked. "Please tell." And I could tell the entire table, dealer, and even the once hot waitress who know looked sickly because of all the drugs she's junked out on was eating out the palm of my hand. So I continued, "Well, one day, I was washing dishes at Hawaiian Island chinese restaurant in Trenton, and there was this pesky horse fly buzzing all around the back of the place like some douche bag at a nightclub that spins deep house with a bro hawk walking around talking to all the girls trying to get numbers and me, Lee, Peggy, Ai Ci Li, and all the line cooks who were experts in martial arts could not put this motherfucking fly down. We were all swatting at it with fly swatters, news papers, rolled up "Barely Legal" porn magazines from the employee bathroom, open hand slaps, roundhouse kicks, spinning back-fists, hyrukens, and even a dumb fat white American exercising the glory of his gun ownership rights that offered to help emptied the clip trying to kill this god damn horse fly. This went on for hours. I even went to the cooler and pulled out some beers so we could start drinking together, catch a buzz, form a bond as a team, and maybe think outside the box of egg rolls on how we were finally going to get this fokker. But, the harder we tried. The harder we failed. It was like trying to talk sense to a flat earther and I could tell the owner, Lee, who was trying the hardest, was the one who was the most tired and humiliated. So, he made a point to say in front of all the employees to make himself feel better, 'Jussshtin, if you no kill fly by time you go home, no more dishh washher job and poker shatakkking for you. Now everybody go home except you, Jushhtin. Hawaiian Island is closed for the night!' So, there I am all by myself, scrubbing the sad cruel plate of life, thinking to myself while I'm listening to the buzz of this cocksucking insect, 'How am I going gonna get this horse fly'" I just stand there and keep thinking. Keep scrubbing. Keep washing. Keep sanitizing the plates. Keep making sure there's no spots on the silverware. Keep thinking about how to make sure there's no leftover downriver warthog lip stick left on the outer rims of the wine glasses. And slowly but surely I hear the buzzes get closer. And it is no longer one continuous buzz because it seems the horse fly is now buzzing from object to object moving closer and closer. Finally, I could see it out of the back of my eye on a rack of dirty plates. So close that I thought if I turned quickly and slapped it with my wet cloth I could probably get it. I pondered doing so, but then that taunting little cock-sucking motherfucker had the audacity to do one more quick little buzz and he lands on some gray water pipes dripping from steam and condensation just above the dish washer itself. The god damn thing even looked like the lead singer from Primus the more and more I looked at it. So, there I am in a drunken stupor about to strike Les, the horse fly, and it hits me, 'This is the closest I been to killing this thing all night, and I got to where I am right now because I didn't try. I just stood here working, thinking, keeping to myself, doing nothing important, and now what has alluded me for so long today is right in front of me and staring at me.' The bug made no move, it was clearly mine. So I offered up a truce and dropped my dirty wet towel on the floor. Then calmly lifted a clean white sparkling plate to my nemesis or perhaps new found friend. And wouldn't you know that pesky motherfucker climbed right on to that plate and I swear to god he jedi mind tricked some Mr. Miagi like shit into my mind and said, 'Very good. Daniel son. *Now walk me to the the back door slowly, and open it.' And I did. Then I watched Les fly off into the cold pale moonlight and I thought to myself 'God damn. I am never going to try again. At anything. Never. Not at all. And I've lived a damn good life since.'" But what I didn't tell the table was I stole that precious little white plate for myself and I still use it to this day to chop my cocaine out on or to offer up a buffet full of illicit drugs on at local poker home games. Always remember, don't try.
  3. So, last night I am standing solo in line at the dinner buffet here at Jack Casino Cincinnati and this pudgy nerdy looking guy with glasses in a blue polo too tight for his body walks up to me and asks, “Are you going to be paying cash for the buffet?” I say, “Yeah,” and he replies, “Don’t do that. I have a buffet for two coupon I have to use by the end of the month. You can have the other one for free.” I’m like, “Hell yeah. Ship it. That will save me $20. That’s $20 more I can spend on drinks.” Then he tells me his name is Bradley, that he is a “K” card member, and how he gets almost everything comped at the casino. I’m like, “Wow. So where you staying tonight? Where did they put you up?” He goes on to tell me that the only thing they don’t give him is free rooms now because the comps have changed since it became Jack casino and no longer “The Horseshoe.” Anyway, we get onto eating and I start telling the story about how my Grandma Eda always played Double Diamond slot machines and those are the only slot machines I play when I am killing time because it makes me feel good to think about her and remember how happy she’d get when she won, but also how irritated my Papa George would get when she lost even though money was not a worry at all to either of them. I go onto tell him that I was up $160 on a Double Diamond machine just two weeks ago but had to cash out quick because some meth head looking guy came up to me at the machine and kept telling me to push the “credits” button three times then pull the lever and not hit the “spin reels” button to beat the machine. I told Bradley that I decided to cash out instead of maybe win another $100 and have this loser beg me for money. Right away Bradley says, “Well. He was telling you right to pull the lever. If you used the strategy he told you and you won you’d have to give him something.” I’m like, “Well I guess if I did exactly what he said and won big I would throw him $20 or something.” Bradley replied, “$20 off another $100 win or like $20 off a $5,000 win?” I’m like, “$20 off a thousand or more. Or maybe nothing.” Bradley started to look offended and was like, “That’s cheap. If he helped you win he helped you win.” So, I start thinking, “Wow. This Bradley guy is probably one of those degens. How in the hell did he get the biggest shooting highest class comp card? He must be a huge slot machine degen!” And then I ask, “Well. What exactly brings you here tonight?” He says, “The slots.” So I smile say, “Well. I don’t know shit about slot machines. So, I got no advice you can use and there will be no way you’re owing me any money for help!” And then I pull out $15 in red chips and give it to him for the buffet. He says, “Thanks.” Then a little after as I am cleaning up my side of the table and preparing to go back to the poker room I say, “You know. I have never met a big time slot machine player here that carries a “K” card. When you come to play the slots what do you usually bring?” Then he replies, “Well, tonight I just brought $64.00.” I’m like, $64.00 and your ATM card?” He calmly replies, “Nope. Just $64.00. And I live three hours away so I can’t go home and grab any more money either. But, it doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t get paid until Friday. I just came today with the $64.00 because when you feel it, you feel it, and today I felt it. So, I took the drive.” And that’s the last I heard from Bradley besides exchanging goodbyes after the dinner buffet. God damn I hope he won.
  4. So, I walk into the men's room adjacent to the poker room here at Jack Casino in Cincinnati and there is a tall lanky black man named Charlie working much too fast for my liking mopping the floor. He is not using the traditional looking mop the janitors I used to make fun of in high school used. He is using one of those floor swifter thingies I don't know how to operate instead. From what I gather you can clean floors at a much greater pace with one of those than the old mops and this guy is literally dripping sweat from his "Touch of Gray" beard as he works at a furious speed. I immediately start to feel guilty that I get to play poker for a living so I say, "Charlie. You've got to slow down. You're working much too fast my friend." Charlie breaks a smile, stops working, and says "Oh I don't usually work this fast. You just caught me in the zone." I say, "I think thats bullshit Charlie. I think you need a beer. Want me to go get you a beer?" "No," Charlie says. "There's cameras in here." "No there's not," I reply. "That's why I can't figure out while you're working so hard Charlie." He laughs and asks, "What do you care how hard I work anyway?" I said, "I care enough to know you work harder than most and get paid the same or less. And I just wanted you to know I've done the same." "Shit," he said. "You must have read my god damn mind. You know you got that motherfucking right." "See. Now we're talking Charlie," I said. Can I get you that beer?" He smiled again, but refused for a second time and then I asked, "Well if I gave you this $25 chip could you promise to do one thing for me today Charlie?" He said, "Sure." Then I put the little green token in his hand and said, "Don't take any shit from your boss." But, what I should have told him was "Make sure you buy yourself a beer."
  5. There is nothing that makes me feel like more of an insect than having to sit in morning traffic. What's worse is knowing all the fine, good, and noble people that surround me are crawling slowly to their little sand holes of misery they call a job. Then eight hours later they'll lurch tiredly back to their homes and drug or drink themselves to sleep. After that they'll do it all over again the next day while praying to a god that doesn't exist their children will one day have it better. These are the only people that have ever made me feel guilty about the game I play or crimes I've committed in my past for the fast buck. I guess this is my apology. You people are more than I ever could be....
  6. This is some of you complaining to the moderators about me and begging for me to be banned. This is what you look like.
  7. When I grant this website the privilege of signing myself in and posting in this forum you all run to my threads because deep down you know you are in the presence of posting greatness. Pay homage you shit posting peons.
  8. I'll announce my next scam soon. For now owning zoning at live PLO and power posting the fuck out of this forum sonn.
  9. Lol. Lil Killing Bird whining and crying like a "T.A.R.D."
  10. Trump was a swine in every sense of the word, but he was the swine we needed to make sure Hillary "Rotten" Clinton didn't kill the American Dream by teaching young children you could cheat at the highest level to win an election and get away with it. You must admit it was awful what she did to poor old man Bernie, won't you?
  11. Word is the only cure for "T.A.R.D" is good parenting. We could be fucked America.
  12. Liberal doctors have now created a new medical condition called "T.A.R.D." that allows Democratic voters and their children to be diagnosed with "Trump Acceptance Resistance Disorder" and receive therapy, meds, public safe spaces, and time off work or college in the most extreme cases because of the disorder. Symptoms of "T.A.R.D." may include, but are not limited to either you or someone you know walking aimlessly in the middle of a highway, calling anyone who voted for Trump a racist without actually ever talking to the person, accusing any male who didn't vote for Hillary Clinton of misogyny, constantly bringing up the fact HRC won the popular vote, posting petitions on Facebook to abolish the electoral college, making fun of Donald's wife for taking provocative photos, shaming any woman in Donald's family for being attractive, breaking down and crying sporadically throughout the day for no real reason, de-friending people on Facebook because they have differing political opinions than you, and a growing list of others as many new forms of "T.A.R.D." are breaking out all over America with every new official statement or press conference from the president. Stay tuned for more news on this growing epidemic as I get it from my sources.
  13. Over the past few months, every time I looked up to the sky and saw old glory flying free and thought about a HRC presidency for some reason the clouds would turn all muddy and our American flag would look much like my carpet after a seventy two hour drug binge, littered with stains. If you've ever gone over the edge with uppers or hallucinogenics or had a look at a Koch brothers or Rothschilds soul, you know the exact level of filthiness I'm speaking about. But, since last Wednesday when I've looked to the sky at our forever enduring beautiful symbol of freedom, its almost as old glory has been beckoning, calling out to me as its own waves in the air crash against the wind like the tide rolling in against a three hundred foot cliff I hope and pray every day Hillary "Rotten" Clinton will swan dive off of unto a brutal death. And no, we did not get a Bernie Sanders victory, but we got a Hillary Clinton defeat, and for those who built a home chock full of hate in our heart for that evil ditch pig after she cheated Senator Sanders in the Democratic primaries that is all that mattered. And when she barrels herself head first into the sharp rocks peaking out from the ocean at the bottom of the ridge like the true chicken shit she is, lets us make sure that the sounds of every bone shattering in her body that has long been rotting to the core do not drown out these very important words that I'd like to pass on that were duped into voting for her or worse yet, actually had to act like they loved her. Hillary Rotten Clinton was a blithering liar, a vicious war criminal, a shameless cheat, a thief so dirty she'd steal your gram of cocaine one day then sell it back to you the next at full price .2 short then ask if she could have a bump of it for herself before she left to use whoever else that was stupid enough to call her a friend. To call her a "Nasty Woman" would actually be sugar coating it so much that if it were a coffee and you could take a sip and feel and hear the grains of sugar crunching in your mouth and dispursing down into your gums and ultimately leaving the back of your jaw with a handful of cavities. From every person I know in Washington I've heard that Democratic party insiders and even Barack Obama himself thinks Hillary is a reckless idiot. Word is that her own daughter doesn't even love her and we have all known what Bill thinks about her for some time. Truth be told Chelsea Clinton has been refusing to pose with her parents in any pictures for the press for over a decade and each year her Mother and Father have to give her a hefty raise from The Clinton foundation and wouldn't you know Chelsea makes one million a year now, all just to actually have to speak, be seen with, and take photos with her parents. I could go on but why bother, it looks like lying crooked Hillary has decided to desert you all that voted for her anyway, much like she abandoned those four men in Benghazi, and just like she left you all waiting for a concession speech on election night when Donald Trump became your president. So, as I stand here now in front of this American flag outside of Anderson Elementary school in Trenton, Michigan and stare up to the sky, I would like to take the time to remind you while Hillary Rodham Clinton was doing everything she could to crumple up "The American Dream" and toss it into the rubbish next to the policy ideas and campaign objectives Bernie Sanders gave her that she promised to promote, Donald Trump, Wikileaks, Anonymous, the FBI, the CIA, the Secret Service, our military, local police forces, and lovers of freedom all over the world fought vehemently to save it and that they did. Now excuse me while I set down this cell phone for a moment and picture me standing tall if you will with a misty eye as I salute old glory for the first time in a long time and say, "Thank you Donald. Thank you for saving the American dream."
  14. I would like to apologize on behalf of all my Democratic friends still shaming all of you free thinking Republicans, Jill Stein voters, Gary Johnson voters, and all that decided not to vote in this election or for voting what your conscience told you and refusing to lower yourself to the level it takes to cast a vote for a person so despicable she cheated Bernie Sanders in the primaries and continued to "go low" on America by calling every one of you racist, xenophobic, homophobic, over-privileged, "deplorable," woman hating idiots if you didn't want to vote for her. I could only imagine that being assumed of all that just for the simple fact that you didn't wanted to give lying crooked Hillary your vote must have made you all feel pretty awful. Just remember when it is time to discuss some policy ideas and make some compromises to get things done in this great nation there is Democratic voters like me who never shamed you or attacked you once and understands why you are reveling in the glory of a Trump victory. Seeing all the hate that has been bestowed upon all of you for no good reason, I don't blame you if you walk outside and chant "USA" as you shoot your guns in the air, ask your wife for two blow jobs in one day, say something nasty back to a liberal that sends them packing to a safe space, shake a police officers hand, or continuing to go high as tremors of spite reverberate from streets all over America while HRC supporters continue to go low and riot in the streets. Today is the day I learned just why so many of you feared to wear your "Make America Great Again" Trump hats.
  15. Poker, politics, music, pop culture, etc all in one ongoing story. You'll be back to read it every week. That's for sure. :)
  16. #2 2pm, Saturday, October 15th, Alien watches a nice old man sit down in seat 1 at an $1100 buy-in Mid Stakes Poker Tournament event at Firekeepers Casino in Battle Creek Michigan. On the very first hand the old man is dealt in the guy in the picture below decides to raise the 100-200 blinds to 2,000 from the under the gun position. Action folds around to the old man who quickly raises the pot to 10,000, which represents half of his starting stack, and is a clear sign to everyone at the table that he most certainly has pocket aces or kings. By the time action gets back to the guy in the picture above, he's already cut out the additional 8,000 chips to call, and he calmly tells the dealer before the flop is dealt, "I check in the dark." The flop comes out rather dry with a J 4 2 rainbow and to nobodies surprise the nice old man instantly says, "All in." Alien starts to roll his eyes as the guy in the photo above says, "I knew you had aces and that's why I called you. Its easy to play against you buddy when I know what you have. I have a set. I call. Set of jacks. Your aces or kings are no good here buddy." Alien then thinks to himself, "If I can just felt this shitbag I'll consider this tournament a success." Shortly after, Alien is on the button with Qd3d, and there's four limpers by the time it gets to him. Rather than put in a position raise and try to steal some dead money and blinds, he decides to just see a flop in position. The following confrontation ensues after the flop brings Qc 3c 4d out on the table and the guy in the picture above named Rudy bets 2000 into a 1400 pot and Alien decides to ship his 16,000 stack in hopes that Rudy will put him on a flush draw and hero call off half of his stack to give Alien a full double up. "16,000 all in on a flush draw buddy? That's a lot of chips," says Rudy. "Yes," Alien thinks to himself. "This idiot is going to find the call for sure here." "Ok. I call," says Rudy as he proudly rolls his KQ. Alien says nothing as he rolls his two pair and as soon as Rudy sees that he's beat he starts telling the dealer, "Bring me justice. Bring me justice dealer. Justice! I need justice! Show him justice dealer!" As the dealer is organizing the chips in the middle in the middle of the pot Alien decides that he wants to make sure this shit pile will be just as on tilt as Alien will if he loses. So he says, "Justice? What in the fuck are you talking about justice? Your hand sucks dude. It's one pair with a king kicker. Justice would be my hand winning." Villain doesn't seem to like when someone talks back to him and snaps back, "Why you gotta talk shit? Why you gotta talk shit buddy. Just play your own god damn hand!" Alien replies, "You're the one talking shit. Asking for justice like I did something wrong by going all in when I have two pair and you have one pair. You suck. Your hand sucks. And if you win this pot it will be such an injustice that Colin Kaepernick is going to have to take another knee tomorrow for me buddy. You shouldn't be asking for justice. You should be asking for a miracle. Why don't you get on your knees and pray for it?" Rudy looks dumbfounded and shouts, "What are you talking about. Pray? What are you talking about?" Alien raises his voice replies again, "Get down on your knees and pray just like an insect to suck out. Get down on your knees right now!" Thankfully, for Alien, the turn and river is a blank, and winning the pot makes it easy to ignore all the inaudible barking from villain. But, they both finally agree that they'll never speak to one another in a hand again and just a few moments after that arrangement Alien flops a set in a hand he raised with and gets villain to bluff off the rest of his stack to him by checking the flop and turn. After the hand a man wearing some sort of high school football team coaching attire says to Alien, "I'm glad you got rid of that asshole, its always something with that guy." Meanwhile, down in Cincinatti, the Dish Washer is taking on a table full of fish, shit regs, and bad Nits. After opening to $10 five out of every ten hands for a hour or so one of the shit regs says, "Boy. For a dish washer you sure do have a lot of money to keep raising." The Dish Washer replies, "Not really. If I had a good paying job I'd raise to $20, $25, or $30 every time. Do you think you could help me find a better job?" "No," the shit reg says. "Damn," replies the dishwasher. "Guess I'll just have to keep my raises to $10." Which the dishwasher prefers anyway because when he raises to $10 in this cities $1-$2 PLO game with a $5 bring in the most anyone can ever three bet him is $40-$90, and when that happens the dish washer is smart enough to know that 90%+ of the time he'll be going up against an AAxx type hand and all he has to flop is two pair or better or a monster draw that makes him a favorite. Then these shit regs, fish, and bad Nits will be so annoyed with his play they'll always stack off to him. An example of this strategy working to perfection happens when The Dishwasher opens Jd10d9s7c from UTG to $10. There's six callers by the time it gets to a NIT OTB and the NIT blasts the pot to $85. It folds around to The Dishwasher who is sitting with $800 and he quickly calls. Another shit reg also decides to join The Dish Washer and the NIT in the pot and the flop comes out Jh 2c 7s. Now, normally the Dish Washer would go for a check/raise here, but he has seen how upset the $10 raise has been making the table. So, he decides to lead $5 into a $300+ pot. The shit reg says, "$5, what? Ok. I can call $5." Then the nit firmly says, "Pot!" Dishwasher quickly replies, "All In" and the nit snap calls his remaining $300. Thankfully, for the Dish Washer his two pair does not get counterfeited and after this hand he is sitting with just over $1200. By the time Yogi arrives wearing the same white hoodies the dish washer has ran his $300 buy in to $2100 and is getting ready to leave, but before he does he is lucky enough to witness one of the greatest things he has ever seen inside a poker room, a triple slow roll, all in one hand. It all starts with young super tight Asian nit with a backpack limping for $5 from under the gun, by the time it gets to Yogi on the button he cuts it to $10, both the small blind and big blind call, so Duncan is able to 4bet to $85, the rest of the table groans as they fold the action back around to Yogi and Yogi waits for a full minute before he slides out $85 and calls, which is slow roll number one. Slow roll number two happens when the flop comes out Ac Kc 3c and Duncan throws three black chips into the pot which means Yogi will have to call off his remaining $250 if he wants to go on playing the hand. Again, Yogi waits a full minute before he decides to call off his stack. The turn is a 4c and the river is a 5s, and Yogi will not stop shaking his head with a disgusted look on his face. Duncan quickly turns over his AAxx hand to show a set of aces and says, "If you have the flush or straight you win." Yogi continues to shake his head for thirty seconds or so and finally opens his hand showing Qc Jc 10s 9s for the flopped nut flush, which constitutes slow roll number three in the hand and sends the table into a frenzy. The Dish Washer and Yogi laugh uncontrollably as the rest of the table complains and finally an old NIT says to the Dishwasher, "Why you gotta egg him on and laugh like that? Do you really think that was funny?" "Of course I think it was funny," said the Dishwasher. "That guy just pulled off a triple slow roll all in one hand. If you truly loved the game you'd appreciate what you just saw, but you guys are all too stupid to see it. Show some respect." "Well, then you're a moron just like him," said the old NIT. But, the Dishwasher is most definitely not a moron when it comes to winning quick battles of wit like this, he knows racking up his chips and leaving will hurt the table's feelings ten times more than engaging in any sort of name calling contest, so the Dishwasher quickly replies, "Well, I don't want to play at a table where everyone thinks I'm a moron. So I guess I better go." As the Dishwasher is racking up his chips the old NIT just can't help himself and says, "Where you going? Into work? You got dishes to wash? Your boss going to fire you if you're late?" Rather than reply the Dishwasher decides to stone face him and quickly make his way to the cashier's cage. He's been playing long enough to know that the verbal lashing the old NIT is going to take from the table for causing him to rack up and leave is going to be better than any retort he could have personally given the old crusty NIT himself. Around the same time down in palm beach a slightly overweight middle aged man dressed in a Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and a fisherman hat who goes by the name of Tubs is having drinks at a dive bar with a beautiful young white girl who replied to his Craigslist ad. Things seem to be going well between the two until she pulls up the right sleeve of her gray Victoria Secrets hoodie and asks, "Are these going to be a problem with your clients?"
  17. I play poker for a living. I like to lurk and post in poker forums. Other than this one I only know of a couple others. You're acting like there's hundreds of forums I can choose from. I didn't say all the posters suck. Fuck, "Cop Gonna Cop" is one of the best thread titles in internet history.
  18. I actually just listened to the leaked Trump tape in its entirety. What is not being brought up is how much of a boss this woman he "moved on" must have been. Not only did this lady deny the billionare celebrity Donald Trump and remain faithful to her husband, sounds like she played him for some free furniture out of the deal as well. And why aren't the "Women For Trump" Drumpf supporters bringing up the fact that Donald did show some humility in this recording? He said he moved "heavily" on a married woman, tried to fuck her, and she denied him repeatedly. He even admitted to buying her furniture. Most guys, especially celebs, would never want to admit they were rejected, let alone played for a free loveseat or sofa. Also, for what it is worth, I bet that ladies husband felt like a God on Sunday afternoons kicking back on that couch Donald bought him while watching NFL Sunday football and taking a blowjob from his hot faithful wife. Why aren't either the husband or faithful wife in this story running for office?
  19. I've lurked this forum for a while, all most of you shit posters do is suck up the food and heat in here like some "Do Nothing Bitch" that doesn't even blow her husband on her birthday anymore. Someone has to pay the rent in this raggedy motherfucker. If you don't like my threads, you don't have to click on them. <3 Will share more stories soon. :)
  20. #1 "There are no more races to be run, There are no numbers left to be won, Everybody's down we pulled each other down... There never was a truth to be found. We are all bigots so full of hatred, We release our poisons. There are no more cultures left to slide, There are no more people to be tried, We're in our minds five billion pieces Read it in a book, it was underlined. We are all bigots so full of hatred, We release our poisons like styrofoam." 1 am. Cold black night. Thoughts jingle around in Alien's head like the spare change in the worn and tattered white cup the homeless bum on Woodward Avenue in Detroit Michigan just shook at him. "Don't be greedy, feed the needy, tra la la la la, la la la" sang the bum over and over as Alien walked into the liquor store." Normally Alien would drop a dollar into his cup, but an ongoing string of bad luck in life and at the poker tables has awakened a demon that had long been sleeping inside his head and tonight he has not even an ounce of compassion in his heart. "Get a fukking job you crackhead nggr.." he thinks to himself as he hurries in to buy himself some gin and tonic water to level out the cocaine he'll be high on shortly back at his place right down the street. But, as he leaves he feels guilty for his thoughts and is utterly disgusted that he lets the game to this him. After all these years he still can't take the swings. Meanwhile, down in the state of Ohio, a man dressed in white shorts, black flip flops, and a dark gray shirt walks up to a $1/$2 Pot Limit Omaha table after the name "Dish Washer" is called over the poker room's P.A. system. He gets a few weird looks as he sits and of course someone always has to ask him, "Are you really a dish washer?" "Of course I am," he replies then asks, "Is there anything wrong with that?" "No. No. No," the old man responds, "All work is honorable. In fact, I even used to wash dishes myself." "Well, I'm glad you found moved onto bigger and better things," says The Dish Washer. "But, if you know anyone that will pay me $15 a hour to wash dishes let me know, because I been trying to find a better dish washing jobs, but like, I heard its more about who you know rather than how good of a dish washer you really are to get the high paying dish washer jobs ya know?" At this point the old man looks a little perplexed because he can't figure out whether or not The Dish Washer is joking, so he ends the conversation with, "Yeah. I know exactly what you mean." A few minutes later this man sits down at the poker table and sort of looks disgruntled. He starts talking about some floor guy named Steve who is giving him a real rash by the way he carries himself and treats all the other poker players at Jack Casino in Cincinatti. Starts going on about how the casino down there is owned by Dan Gilbert, the multi-billionaire who owns quicken loans. Then gets to chirping to the dishwasher, the dealer and anyone else who will listen and says, "You know what. I don't think that Steve mother****er earned his job. He has to know somebody in here. No way a loser like that gets a job running the poker room. Tell you what, I think that Dan Gilbert guy who owns Quicken loans had himself a "quickie" with some tramp twenty some years ago and that's how we got stuck with that little cocksucker Steve. Yeah, I'd bet my life on it." Then he goes onto say, "And if this wasn't the only casino in town, I'd open hand smack the son of a bitch." The Dish Washer thinks to himself, "I like this guy." Later an Indian man wearing glasses in a white hoodie by the name of Yogi sits at the table and buys in for the minimum of $100 and starts to raise every hand to $10. Then if any player player 3-bets him he immediately ships his stack all in no matter the size. The Dish Washer watches in awe as this goes on for a couple hours, not of the strategy, but at how much this little $10 raise starts to set the insides of all the players at the table on fire. Throughout the duration of all the action Yogi keeps his hoodie up so it hides most of his face and seems to only show emotion when he watches other player with 1k-3k stacks get it all in fighting over the pots he created than when he actually wins the pot himself. When he sees a young player with a back pack, murse, headphones, or an ipad lose his entire 1k, 2k, or 3k stack his smile is completely genuine and anything but glued on like the ones of all the players who pretend to friendly with players like Yogi or The Dishwasher himself. So, after only two hours of playing poker in Cincinatti, The Dish Washer decides to himself that he has found a silent poker ally in Yogi and starts to 3-bet all of Yogi's $10 raises to $15 by the time it gets to him. Yogi also senses he has found a friend in The Dish Washer and begins to 4-bet all of The Dish Washer's 3-bets to $20. This causes the entire poker table to tilt harder than Snoop Dog's brim and even more action ensues. Often times Yogi and The Dish Washer both fold out after one of the $hit regs, competent players, or complete fish start five and six bet spaz shipping their stacks, then start laughing uncontrollably when one of the players clearly trying to play for a living loses an enormous pot to a $hit reg or fish. Later the Dish Washer changes seats and sits next to Yogi. Yogi says to the Dish Washer, "You know. I lose a lot the way I play with all the min raising and re-raising I do. But, I get to watch others lose a lot more. And play badly. And be very mad. And it makes this game very fun and me happy. So, I am always winning at this game no matter what. The money is nothing to me." The Dish Washer decides to himself right then and there that he respects Yogi's sinister approach to the game and is going to start opening to $10 and min raising anyone else's opens himself to create a lot more action he can fold out of as well, for the Dish Washer knows that when he actually does stay in a hand he'll be playing against players that are clearly out of their comfort zone and on tilt. And when players are out of their comfort zones at a poker table and have to react to new strategies, they often react and play poorly. "You're always learning in this game," thinks the Dish Washer, "you're always learning." Back in Detroit Alien is chopping out a line of cocaine frantically in his loft with his MGM players club card on a Rollins Band compact disc case from 1994. "Why am I even doing this?" He thinks to himself. "Only complete losers get high by themselves." But, he's never felt so empty, helpless, broken, and alone. The cocaine makes him feel like a God and gives himself back the confidence only one can know when he or she is sitting on a 100k+ liquid bankroll for poker or any other sort of investment. So, after he snorts another rail he decides to scroll his Facebook feed and examine some correspondence. "Lets see what's going on in the world.." he thinks to himself. And for some reason tonight he can't notice anything but all the political posts and everybody trying their hardest to sound like they're right rather than communicate and use the internet for an open exchange of ideas. Reminds him of a quote from one of his favorite punk rock singers Greg Graffin who said, Makes him feel is even more alienated from society and all it makes him think about is a song called "Disconnect" that's from the very cd inside the case he was chopping the lines of cocaine on. He goes to Youtube to que the video up, it makes him sad for a second that it's also been years since he bought a new cd. "Is all the new music really that bad or am I just old and out of touch?" He thinks to himself. But, not for too long, because it's been more than a decade since he's listened to this particular Rollin's Band song and he can't help but feel more connected with the lyrics than ever before. As the rush of rage and energy from the cocaine takes hold of his body and mind he starts to pace his loft much like Henry Rollins in that video and even starts to sing the lyrics. Its no wonder that his 43 inch Samsung HDTV that he hasn't watched anything but $hitty sports and movies on in years doesn't make it through the night and finds itself smashed all over the hard wood floor by the next morning. For a minute Alien briefly considers smashing his laptop computer, but he knows without it he would have nothing to access the internet so he could feed his own ego and examine at the ignorance of mankind through the magnifying glass that is social media. He continues to snort cocaine until he feels guilty. Most the time that's when the sun is coming up and he hears the birds start chirping. At around 5am he opens a bathroom drawer full of landing gear and takes a half xanax bar and thinks to himself, "Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow will be the start of a ten session win streak." But he can't figure out if that's how he really feels or if that's just the cocaine talking. He's smart enough to know there's a reason why drugs cost money.
  21. I am going to go ahead and say that white trash, Mexicans, African Americans, and other minorities probably get roughed up or messed with unnecessarily by your average dead beat cop at nearly the same rate. Many of them donning the badge don't have anything better to do like solve a real crime anyway. But, there is a clear lack of regard for an African American's life when it comes to pulling the trigger in situations that could be deemed "tense" by the police. If you don't believe that there's a good chance you or your family still probably throw the "n" word around at the dinner table or while watching NFL Sunday football every now and then. And hey, I'm not mad at you. I know a lot of good hearted people who actually still use the word. Doesn't mean your mindset when it comes to this police brutality problem in America is right though. Its not. You should all set your closet racism or outright racism aside. It's 2016 and we should care a lot more about one another than we do.
  22. I wear white socks under black flip flops and that's because anyone who knows anything about poker knows to fear guys like that.
  23. That's too broad, which is why I said needing to be staked for a tournament with less than a $1,675.00 buy in. If you just say "needing to be staked"....that could roll off a lot of people's shoulders because a lot of rich poker players are staked, but if you specifically focus on the $1,675.00 and under people who ask for stakes, yeah, that hits home, we poor.
  24. I can't believe we are on page two and none of you have even took the time to write in additions. Obviously, if you want to insinuate I am poor, you should point out that requesting backing for any tournament under a $1,675 entry means you are poor, and yes, I am guilty of putting those in my staking packages among partaking in some other things on the poor person's list like "self parking" and "refusing to straddle" when I know it will irk some backpackers at the poker table. For what its worth I have a hard time drinking beer with my chicken wings, but if you guys really don't like some good wine with a nice steak or piece of fish I don't know what the fuck is a matter with you. One other thing I just thought of, if you are over the age of twenty five and draft your fantasy football team in a basement that does not have a fully stocked finished bar with fresh cut lemon and limes for drinks you are poor.

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