Karma is a bitch

Of all the villans in the classic WWF, there was one who stood out as the most dominant based on character alone. That man was Ted Dibiase, the million dollar man. He was the shit dude, just flaunted money in peoples faces and it couldnt piss them off more. He would run through the southern arenas filled with bluecollar inbreds who were irate at his antics. Dude would run commercials where he bought out an orphanage and put up a golf course or kicked all the old people out of a restuarant so he could have the place to himself. There was one stunt he actually pulled in front of a live audience which was a seminar in domination. He picked like a six year old wide eyed kid out the crowd, and brought him to center ring. He presented the youth with a common red rubber plastic ball and told the onlookers that the child would be paid one hundred dollars if he could successfully bounce the ball 10 times. He went so far as to wave the beaner in the child’s face before taking the microphone and counting with the crowd for each time the sphere made trip from hand to ground and back. “One, Two, Three…Eight, Nine” right about there is where the shit went south. Dibiase punted the ball into the twelfth row and screamed into the mike, “I didnt get rich giving money away to hicks like you, get the hell out of the ring kid.” Shit was the fucking shit dude. I read about it in his autobiography, an excellent book until the point where he finds jesus and gets preachy. Turns out, he was a hero in the local circuits, never played the role of the villan. Problem was that Junkyard Dog and he were the two best competitors and they had both been staged as heros not heel. Dibiase agreed to turn on the JYD, and once he felt that taste of hatred, he thirsted for more. Vince McMahon set him up with a big time contract, a dollar sign suit, and blatent slaveboy named virgil, the rest is history.
Dibiase could have made a decent living as a nice guy, and after his turn to jesus he exhibited that truth. But he also became a giant vagina. He was banging hookers, blowing lines, and generally living the life of a million dollar man in what he calls “a dark time” in his life. Maybe dark in the sense that his dominance eclipsed the sun, otherwise I dont follow teddy. You were on top of the world, shoving hundred dollar bills in your opponennts throat after putting them to sleep with your signature million dollar dream. Some people just cant deal with the communal hatred that comes from being a dominant villan. The negative vibes overcome them and at some point they break down.
Of my three favorite villans of all time, two are in golf comedies. You have to admit that Shooter McGavin and Judge Smails embody the arrogance and hypocracy that make good movies great. Other than Worm in rounders, no one embodies the emotionless self pursuit that is essential to a true machavelian anti hero. The offhand put downs, the open cheating, the air of superiority, all crack me up more than the star they are perpetrated against. I read somewhere that Ted Knight who played Judge Smails couldnt take it anymore after being typecast as a bad guy. His agent had to make him understand that even though they hated him, people really loved him. They loved having their buttons pushed and the fact that he drew their ire was a testament to what an incredible job he had done.
I take that speech with me at each poker table I sit at, because I play far better against people who hate me. Even if I felt bad acting like a jackass(I dont), I would know that the greater goals were being served. So last night when I sat down at a four eight table at the wynn with 120 bucks, I was just looking to have a little fun. I sat out about 5 hands till the blind hit me and quickly realized that at least four people at the table had no idea how to play poker. Thats a dangerous situation for me, because it can put me on tilt when I keep getting drawn out on and make me play hands that I shouldnt based on the implied odds of outplaying their busch league shits.
This one tankass chick was slowing up the game more than a reasonable amount. Lets call her Ditzy McBlubberbrain. Shit was asking what the maximum and minimum bet were everytime it came to her and trying to check preflop when she wasnt a blind without putting any money in. Im not saying she was doing this for the first couple rounds, she was doing it for 3 fucking hours when the answers were the same every fucking time. She would talk inanely about real estate deals or parking structures while everyone was waiting for her to act, and though she was drinking miller lites at a pretty good clip, it was a volume calculation that no legal form of liquor was going to overcome.
I would have been perfectly fine with her taking her sweetass time if I was dragging the requisite amount of pots to make it worth my while, but I was getting beat up on the river. I would have her drawing to 6 outs and hit like 3 out of 4 times. My stack had dwindled to about eighty of my one twenty and I was starting to steam. Thats when I decided I was going to take the fucking fight to her. She hadnt laid down to me once, so when it was raised preflop by her, I stuck around with king-nine offsuit in the little blind, along with three others. Flop came Ace, Ace, duece and I bet it out. There were three people to act behind us, but when she asked “Is it just you and me?” I quickly responded “No one else is going to call me, its just you and me.” I then watched her call and all but one of them fold. Turn came six and I bet again, with her calling and the other guy folding. River came queen, I bet out eight and I started talking. I went to flip my cards face up, then was like “Havent you called yet?” “Whats the hold up, you always call. Lets stop stalling and flip the cards already.” I again made the motion with my hand like I was going to expose it. Some jackass across the table mentioned that she had to call for pot odds, but luckily I dont think she knew what either of those two words met. The lipid lobe thought about it for another twenty seconds, then said “I think you’ve got that ace” as she folded, and I proudly flipped my king high.
She got a little pissed as did the rest of the table, but I just channelled my man Dibiase. I was on the button next hand with a seven four of hearts. Like five callers to me, and I didnt hesitate to raise. I stared down Ditzy and said “we dancin again?” Five to the flop and it came with two hearts and an ace jack and nine. It checked to me and I bet out thinking I might get reraised. Two callers included my mark and then the turn came nine. I bet out again saying “You’re going to be even more upset when I show you this time after you fold”. She thought about it and said something along the lines of “you probably have it this time.” They both folded and I flipped over my seven high, saying “Did I have you?” She made some ridiculous claim like that she had a seven three, when even that would have split with me. I just laughed as the cards were dealt, when I found myself with pocket tens.
If you dont know that I raised, you havent been paying attention, someone even raised into me beforehand trying to bully me like I was a man to be bullied. I made it 16 preflop with the assistance of an angered asian man trying to hard to be a toughguy. 5 people were in and the pot was monster even before it came 10, 5, 2. I had trip tens and would have normally slowplayed the shit out of them, but given what had come before, I bet every fucking time it was to me. With an ace coming out but no straight or flush, I had the second nuts and I was pretty sure no one had been playing pocket aces. Two people including our middleaged tub of love called me to the river and when I said “Trip tens,” they both immediately mucked in disgust. I took about 120 on that hand and almost two bills between the three hand run. I ruled the table with an iron fist, and fatty chatty cathy stopped being so fucking talkative.
She started telling her friend that maybe they should go play craps, to which her friend responded “Why?”. She was confused and said back, “Did you just ask me why we were going to play craps?” like her friend was a damn idiot. Maybe she did have a few redeeming qualities. She said she heard someone yelling “yo eleven” in the back of her head. I told her “as we speak there are people betting the yo, but we came here to play poker no?” I continued to say stuff like “lets play some poker” when I slowplayed big hands or took down bluffs, but I kept a more moderate pace to my winning the next hour or so. My roommate Russell had gotten bored with an inactive no limit game and was itching to hit the bars rather than stay and play poker. I started stacking my chips into their racks and told the table I had to go back and get to sleep. When I was slightly needled about being a young man and going to sleep rather than going out, I tried to give the most condescending speech that I could. “Im a local, maybe this is fun for you guys, but this is work for me.” A disenfranchised double duece debutante asked “So you play every weekend?” I stared right at her lying, and said “I play every day.” I then walked to the cage and cashed out up 250 in three hours work.
I wish that was the end of the story, unfortunately karma is a bitch. I got cocky and tried to parlay my winnings at the poker table on the football field which turned out to be a terrible decision. I put 250 in play on 4 games, going 1-3 and losing 150 in the process. I also had my dominant fantasy football team put in its place in the opening round of the playoffs by the eight seed getting huge numbers from terry glenn and eddie kennison. Fucking all sorts of bets down the drain on that one. I keep looking for a lesson somewhere in there, but I need to start asking the question WWTDD. If I was Ted Dibiase in his prime, I would just do a few bumps and bang a couple hookers. The Moultonian equivalent of that is pounding some bowls and eating a klondike bar. Mmmmm, klondike bar.

Karma is a bitch

Post a comment