I caught a glimpse of the economic crunch on the streets of Las Vegas. Construction projects halted. Rusted steel beams shot out of concrete blocks on unfinished architectural superstructures. The vertical ghost towns cluttered the Las Vegas skyline. The illumination of Sin City, once glorious and majestic as the morning light at the dawn of the new day, has been dulled by a morass of financial gloom, so much so that even the languorous hookers were bitching. Shit, everyone was bitching. Cocktail waitresses. Poker dealers. Cab drivers. Valets. And even the crackling snaps of pamphlets from the porn slappers seem a little sullen these days.

– Tao of Poker

You know what, fuck this “Pauly’s the Hunter Thompson of Poker” shit. Woo-woo, I’m a tortured writer who does lots of drugs to share my twisted vision of the world with the world [/whine] … all so you’ll play $10 tournaments on PokerStars … Saturday’s with Dr. Pauly! — and then we can bet more on FantasySportsLive! [/excitement] It’s seems to me like a pathetic cover for life as a (balding) professional shill.

OK, maybe I’m just bitter — because one of my best pals called me a “cooler”. Do you realize how damaging that can be to a guy who scratches out his living as “The Ernest Hemingway of Gambling” a casino hanger-on? Granted, it really did happen for like 6 hands in a row that whomever I stood behind was guaranteed to lose at pai gow — and when I courteously left to play craps for the first time in two years, not only did I blow $93 in about 7 minutes, but also I literally killed the table … messed up a “hot roller” by improperly placing a bet and impeding a flying die with my hand … re-roll … and from there it was craps, craps, craps — seven out — until all the other players left the table rolling their eyes in gambler’s disgust. Ha-ha, luck is funny.

But all is not fun and games here in Vegas these days — in America, really; but the morale-shift seems accentuated in Sin City, where just about every hooker has lost at least one home in the desert suburbs to foreclosure. So it’s not all about me, but I get to be the Set-up Guy (nice) … and it’s definitely not all about poker: DPauly just happens to be journaling life on a road speckled with tables, where he sees the American lives in the face of severe economic downturn — the human condition amid stormy weather — as revealed ever clearly through the teats and mouths of an aggressive pack of 3rd Millineium Mary Magdalenes.

An especially worthwhile two-part read this week on Tao of Poker.

And, of course, though not as good (my appearance didn’t make the cut), you can get the audiobook version here.

Your WSOP Experience is hardly complete without a drink or seven at the notorious Rio hooker bar … and while I skipped out early on post-coronation festivities, Pauly stuck around to yuk it up with Otis and Howard (from PokerStarsBlog.com, and England). Frightening observations of obese depravity lead to existential musings on the pathetic existence of all who domicile in Vegas (umm …) and while the trio don’t talk with Peter Eastgate as he walks through the Rio casino eerily alone for a guy who just won $9 million, they do interview one of the working girls … and before you know it they’re negotiating a deal to shoot a tag-team porno, all of which eventually deteriorates into threats of a lawsuit.

Hey, that’s just how things float early after sunrise on a Wednesday morning at the Rio.

Book 5: Tao of Hooker Bar

Episode 5.1: Boundless Nature, Las Vegas
6:05

Episode 5.2: Hurricane of Hookers
7:25

Episode 5.3: Cage-Savvy Coochie
3:05

It was a tragedy earlier this week when a small plane crashed into a North Las Vegas home, killing three people. Another one fell out of the sky yesterday, killing the pilot. This one crashed into a home near Jones and Cheyenne (a few blocks from where the Michalski grandparents used to live) and also took off from the North Las Vegas Airport. Seriously, two small-aircraft crashes (into homes) in one week, both flights originating from the 63rd busiest airport in America? That’s just not right.

More here and here.

The PR people at Hard Rock are trying to keep a tight lid on the unveiling of their new “Poker Lounge”, which opens to the public tomorrow — they don’t want any bad pictures getting out that fail to capture the venue in all its glory, nor any inaccurate information being spread widely for many to misconstrue. Er … ok, but that’s kinda what we do, ya know?

I’ve heard two numbers about how costly this new construction was — $12 million and $30 million. While there’s a big difference between the two, and at least one of them is probably wrong, either way, you get the picture … it’s a really nice place — built from the ground up and the inside out. Brian from the Poker Atlas and I swung by yesterday, where they were busily at work in their final stages of preparation, and we got a little tour from the Director of Poker Operations, Houston Waldie, who was brought to HRH after his success turning the Golden Nugget’s rinky-dink room into arguably the best game downtown. No cameras allowed as he pointed out features he was most proud of, but I did manage to sneak a few pics from behind the ropes to give you a sense of the space we’re talking about here.

I gotta say … Fuckin’ A …

Go Hard Rock. (General info and future reviews here; official site here.)

The luxe tables, couches, chairs, flatscreens, etc. were all expected, maybe a tad nicer. But the art, the architecture, the vibe — all created specifically to be a poker room, the most well thought out and well funded since the Venetian — make me miss living on the east side of town, where the Hard Rock was the most convenient casino to my old pad. And though I suspect it may take some time to build up a player base (perhaps when the new hotel rooms at the Hard Rock open?) that should make it one of the premiere poker destinations in LV, at least the set-up for the action seems pretty sweet. Here are a few tidbits I picked up without the benefit of tape recorder or notepad:

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No, Hoyt, don’t do it! Hoyt Corkins sherpas Tuscaloosa Johnny to Red Rock Canyon for some fresh perspective and 2008 WSOP recovery.

Nearly driven mad from the land of poker, I had the opportunity on Sunday to get out of town. Since Hoyt Corkins busted out of the main event on Saturday he now had time to go for a hike.

I went to his house and we hopped in his jeep, fully equipped with four-wheel drive, roll bars and a winch with five-ton capacity that would surely get you out of a sticky situation. Starting too late to tackle Mt. Charleston, we instead headed to Red Rock Canyon to take the jeep trails into the Rainbow Wilderness area there.

It was no easy go up the rocky trails and I was surprised to see some drivers of Grand Cherokees try the climb. From the point in which we exited the main scenic drive through the canyon until we arrived at the trail to the North Peak probably took nearly an hour over the short, but rough terrain.

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photo: Jackie Endsley
Putting your last dollar toward a bad-beat jackpot may not have been the best career strategy for this guy.

Audio

I got a call yesterday at the WSOP from the Butler. I haven’t seen the guy for a couple months — not since me and my jiu-jitsu coach and heavy metal teacher got booted out of our sweet pad (pool table, poker table, dart board, 65-inch HDTV, Strip-view bedroom, fireplace/jacuzzi bathroom, no utilities) on the Eastside. We of course knew all was headed south when the Butler — the guy who set the whole housing arrangement up — walked into our casa unannounced to do a cocaine deal, and shortly thereafter got busted by The Boss (who owned the house, in theory, though not on paper) for stealing rent money.

(I met the Butler last year at the WSOP, as he was trying to sell his private concierge services to poker players and convince me to turn him into a recurring character on Pokerati.)

Anyhow, so I got a call from an unknown 973 number yesterday that I answered in the press box. “Hey, Dan, it’s John. Are you at the Series? How’s it going?”

“Um, uh, pretty good? We’re just getting rolling … so what’s up? Did you make it to Kansas City?”

“Yeah, and it’s not good. I’m calling because I need a stake.”

“Yeow, dude … can’t help you out. Wouldn’t know how to get you money if I could.”

“Western Union.”

“Sorry, man Have you tried Tom? His number is 602-97… .”

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Funny … I’m sitting on the little porch off my bedroom in Slight Southwest Vegas, facing the Rio actually … Luxor beam at about 1 o’clock. It’s a beautiful night — cool ’70s and still. I know it’s only Day 1, and guys like Pauly and Cali Jen’s roommate Aaron are still there, catching the end of opening day to see who’ll be fighting for the money tomorrow in the $10k Pot-Limit Hold’em World Championship of the Planet in the Empire. I’ll bet there are some names we recognize and some we don’t.

Anyhow — it’s so nice outside, and instead of chips clicking I hear crickets chirping, so I figured I’d catch up on emails (mine was down all day), comment on some blogs, etc. … and the guy two houses down just pulled into his driveway aggressively, and got out of the car talking on the phone. Apparently he’s a poker player, and just got back from some tournament: “I finished 2nd,” he’s saying, “yeah, I pushed with pocket 10s. He thought about it for a long time and at that point I was ready to race, but he called and had pocket jacks.”

He’s still outside talking … “No, I’m not trying to be gay but your feet are so cute in those … It’s so funny because … uh-huh … I enjoy it … I absolutely love that, and you wouldn’t have to worry … no … uh-huh … yeah, it’s so funny because I wasn’t even looking for it … Right, everybody’s different, and I got so fucking excited … I do everything I can for you … right, pocket jacks.”

UPDATE: “You’re so fucking hot. You’re an absolute knockout … no, totally sober … and you’re short, which I love.”

For some reason I thought he didn’t drink … but still, regardless, Daniel Negreanu seems to have been busy partnering up with some new, non-online-poker entities just in time for Christmas the WSOP. One is a brand-new (live action) poker training site called PokerVT. Good for him, and probably for them, too … though I wonder how many people will really want to pay to go to school with Neggy’s digital likeness.

His other new biz deal is all about after-poker … as he’s pimping PT’s — a big chain of neighborhood video-poker pubs around Las Vegas — and the commercials are all over the local TV feeds of pokery shows. In this ad, he steps away from the table after busting an opponent and then heads out to a bar where he chats with a random hot waitress and then shoots some pool with a random dude who challenges him to a game for a round of brews.

I gotta think it works. Because for some reason, for the couple-dozen-plus of these 24-hour taverns I’ve visited (literally, they’re on almost every corner once you get a mile or so off the Strip) I’ve never stepped foot inside a PT’s … probably because there are so many, but regardless, now this ad tells me it’s OK to do so … and as added value to my late-night steak-and-eggs, there’s a 1-in-37 shot of running into an off-duty poker pro while there.

While this may not be the biggest of big deals, I remember Scottie Pippen doing Montgomery Ward’s billboards back in the early ’90s, and it’s good to see a poker pro doing some non-poker pimping on par with a top NASCAR driver.

CORRECTION: I have stepped foot into a PT’s sorta — didn’t realize Sierra Gold (a few blocks from where I live) is one of their joints.

I like to troll Craigslist every so often for some hot, anonymous NSA poker action. Not looking for games — there’s no shortage of ‘em here in LV — just wanting to take the pulse of what people are pushing related to poker. Look at the ads all together and you get some interesting tells on the state of the poker world and its semi-anonymous inhabitants:

There are a lot of chips , tables, fancy custom tables and chips and tables for sale, of course, and for $15 a made-for-TV WPT video game. WSOP: Tournament of Champions for the Playstation goes for $8

For $150k you can have documentary footage of the rise and fall of Jamie Gold.

A WSOP baby’s blanket.

More chips, from the Aladdin, and from the Atlantic City Playboy Club. “Omaha Table” from Sante Fe Station.

Perhaps frighteningly, there are even poker bots for sale. At least one suspicious reader is questioning whether or not this is legal.

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There are probably more personalized license plates in Las Vegas than anywhere else per capita. Perhaps because they only cost $36, or because so many people in this town are totally full of themselves. I’m being serious — at any given stoplight not on the Strip, you can expect to see at least a fourth of the cars labeled with the likes of KITZKAT, CIRQUE, NO CASH, TJQKA, and BLOGHME.

Hmm, I have to get a new Nevada license plate … I have $36 … and the Nevada DMV has a fun web-thingy for checking availability of your vanity phrase. You’re limited to 4-7 alphanumeric characters (but no zeros), so POKERATI is out. But some available possibilities to consider:

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