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July 20, 2005
of poker and poseurs
Milhouse, to his classmates, on their excitement over Bart having brought his dog to show and tell:
I knew the dog before he came to class!
We've all been there. You were the one who was watching Seinfeld in 1991, when it was ranked 85th in ratings and in perpetual peril of cancellation. Or it was some other trend you were in front of, a trend whose subsequent wild popularity you came to resent. I, myself, was watching Dave Chappelle from word go and have no need to borrow your Season One DVD, thank you very kindly, fucking poseur, sir.
But nothing prepared me for poker becoming a fad. Just three years ago, poker was my secret shame. It was just me engaged in battle with a bunch of smelly old coots in some smoky back room, while my friends were flirting with skanks over the roulette and blackjack tables. If another player under the age of 40 sat down at the table, we would silently nod to one another. It was that rare for there to be two of us. Poker was lethally uncool. No one understood the url of this web site, let alone asked me to sell it to them. I couldn't scare up a game. Casinos were closing my favorite poker rooms for lack of interest. And then along came TV poker.
You know the rest. It's everywhere. But there's a catch: as TV pretty much only televises no limit hold 'em, this is the only game young poseurs ever want to play. These are the Nobel laureates for whom "No Limit Hold 'Em Poker Chips" are marketed. No, there's no difference in chips whatsoever, but they don't know that. They just throw 'em in their carts next to the "Zero-Carb Beef." There's a great psychological study to be found in the monkey-seeism of all this, but for me, I mostly care that a game I don't enjoy enough to play all the time has taken over the poker universe. Worse, though, are the new players. Three years ago, if an old coot beat my hand, he'd growl something wry and funny and maybe even self-deprecating. "Son, you didn't lose to me. You lost to seven weeks' worth of due." It was like something out of a Clint Eastwood movie. No more. Now we have whoops, hollas, high fives, choreographed dances, and moronic smack talk about the intelligence of other players. There goes the neighborhood. They disrespect the game and its players, and I can't stand to play anymore.
I was out on my boat, also named the CheckRaise, when I was boarded by a state wildlife officer. Odd, considering that I wasn't fishing. Crew-cut, young, stupid, and eager to be liked, he spoke in excited all caps. "ARE YOU A NO LIMIT HOLD EM PLAYER, TOO? I'M A NO LIMIT HOLD EM PLAYER! I LOVE NO LIMIT HOLD 'EM!"
Uh-huh. Say, would you be a dear and hand me that filet knife?
posted by john at 7:45 AM • permalink