Sure, the Bellagio 5-Diamond is a pretty big deal to the pros — it’s one of those tourneys that harkens back to pre-boom days of the WSOP, both in competition and relative size of the buy-ins. Every table is star-studded, and the no-names who make it to the Fontana Room have fought hard to get there, knowing mathematically maybe one or two of them stands a chance of doing something truly special.
Postcard from the Venetian: Wish you were here not really.
You wouldn’t know anything about it, though, from the 82 bloggers who were in town for the fourth or fifth (anyone know?) annual Unnamed Winter Blogger Holiday Gathering — this year honoring the netty nuptials of Pablo and Gracie (ceremony officiated by Rev. AlCantHang). While all that mattered to the professional world was going on at Bellagio, what attracted reps from the other 99.9 percent of poker players out there was shaking down and out at the MGM and Venetian … where friends, colleagues, and acquaintances gathered for boozing, boasting, bitching, and busting chops, all surrounding a big-but-affordable challenging tourney that would reward on-the-felt bad-assness with real American dollars while everyone else still enjoyed ever-festive poker-bloggery times.
A full moon was closer to Earth than usual, naturally enhancing the funk. Dr. Pauly busted out the portable satellite Tao of Pokerati studio, and before you knew it, our recorded commentary degenerated into lunar analysis of semi-annual drunkfests, slumped-over gambling addicts, donk-ass keno play, and, of course, hookers in a down economy on the late-night Vegas prowl. Recorded live from an extended weekend’s worth of bars, sportsbooks, bedrooms, bathrooms, and casino floors … with guest appearances by Derek, Human Head, Bobby Bracelet, Mean Gene, and PKPNF, before and after his unsuccessful relationship with Betty Underground.
Aural delights below:
More…
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.
The post-EPT-Budapest shenanigans continue as Benjo and Pauly discuss whorehouses and the Tarantino-esque experiences of French and Scandi bustouts with Hungarian women-for-hire. A tad of religious guilt kicks in as the poker media duo contemplates the Day of the Dead on the Danube.
Book 3: Budapest (w/ Benjo)
Episode 3.2: Hungarian Hooker Halloween 4:14
[audio:tao/TOP-3-2.mp3]
