I'll Make This Quick

Online Poker is Rigged

The Pole is Up!

Misspelling intentional, a homage to the overwhelming plethora of male anatomy references used whilst labelling our league seasons.

Anyway, look to your right and vote for something or write in your own, since all the choices are so lame anyway.

The Season of the Which?

Don't know when you'll see another one of these again but the return of the formerly known as "Burnley Poker League" has prompted me to spew again for a few moments. Well, it's not the return of the league in itself, more so it is what I feel is a lack of a proper name.

Our resident Poet Laureate Brian "Kramer" Moran has dubbed the revival of our beloved card competition as the "RezErection". I feel that falls a bit short. It's something I would expect to see in huge "No Fear" style letters in the back window of a Gastonia Honda Civic. No offense Kramer, you have entertained the world for years with your literary masterpieces but this time I feel we may want to give the naming of season 7 another chance.

It is here, on Big Slick Small Money, I humbly propose the "Name Season 7 Contest". Please submit your proposals in the comment section and I will announce the candidates in a few short days. I will kick things off with the first submission:

Nate, in whatever stroke of insanity I can't imagine, has somehow convinced his wife April, who just happens to be well into her first pregnancy, to invite 30-40 sweaty beer guzzlers over to her house on a weekly basis to gamble and yell. It is for this reason I dub season 7:

"April's Fools"

I know, it sucks, but it should get a couple of you witty penmen to get the ball rolling. The winner gets a brand new wiffle ball, to be presented at the first game. Remember, if you leave an idea for a name in the comments, post w/ your name and not "anonymous". How else am I gonna know who wins the wiffle ball?

Pick 6!

Yeah, it's been forever and a day since I've put anything up, and even much longer since I've posted anything worth reading. But the greatest franchise in sports notching Super Bowl win #6 obviously merits a return to the digital canvas. And, unlike the drama - devoid manner in which they cruised to SB win #5 three years ago, thankfully they screwed up just enough to make it a nail biter.

With a 10 point lead early in the 2nd half, I was starting to look around for someone to pass the time with $5 games of 9-ball. But, much to the ratings mavens and sports writers' delight, late in the 3rd quarter the Steelers stopped dancing who they came with and began to leave the middle of the field wide open for Larry Fitzgerald to wreak havoc among our secondary, the painted end zone grass, and the collective blood pressure of millions of Iron City swilling hard working Americans. Hmmmm, I remember throughout the playoffs seeing mayhem in the form of a myriad of exotic blitzes, where 6 or 7 guys coming from who-the-hell-knows-where routinely pummeled the opposing quarterback into well ground turf nuggets. Was Warner's quick release and the quality of the Arizona WRs enough to warrant rushing only 3 or 4 in an effort to negate the big play? How the hell should I know, I'm no Dick LeBeau, I'm just a guy from central PA with a poorly funded gambling habit and an voracious need to vicariously live through the acts of professional sports figures. I live in a cave, for chrissakes!

All I know is next thing we're down 23-20 and I'm shittin' bricks. The pool cue is in the rack, the Terrible Towel is in a white knuckle clutch, and the Sierra Nevadas are goin' down in alarming numbers. And I'm looking at Luckbox and she's showing a nervousness that I seldom ever see. The root cause undoubtedly a rather large bet on the Steelers -7 which she wisely hedged with an even larger bet on the money line. Me, I couldn't bring myself to bet on this game. The money line odds were shit, and I couldn't bear to bet the spread. The worst case scenario being the Steelers win but don't cover, and I have to sit there trying to figure out a way to be happy about it.

And, as you saw, that's exactly what happened. I went 3 for 3 betting on championship Sunday, won a donkey fest tournament later that night at the Luxor, and subsequently lost it all the next night in one hand at the Venetian. I wasn't about to let some mindless wagering get in my way of a good time. If the Steelers win, I'm dancin' on clouds, ridin' the range, and punchin' them dogies. If they lose, I'm finding a well traveled interstate on which to play hop-scotched whilst waiting to eat the business end of a west bound 18 wheeler.

You saw what happened. Ben threw to the "my guy or no guy" zone and Holmes made a catch that justifies the all the money he'll make his entire career. As incredible as that was, I believe that Harrison's 100 yard pick 6 to end the first half was the greatest play in Super Bowl history. Think about it. The Cardinals are about to take the lead, or at least tie the game, and more importantly, seize the momentum going into the 2nd half. Instead, this 265 lb freak steps up at the goal line, picks it off, runs the length of the field, and crosses the goal line by 2 inches with NO TIME left on the clock. If he gets tackled at the 1 it's a meaningless play. He knew it, and he showed us again why he is the Defensive Player of the Year.

Okay, enough ranting. Back to poker. I won a freeroll 54 man sitn'go at 3 am this morning while eating a bowl of ice cream. The next time something good happens on the felt, I swear I'll be back to say something.

You Won't Believe This

I've tried to think of all sorts of funny shit to say about this one. I just keep typing and hitting backspace because nothing I can think of does justice to the hilarious level of stupidity achieved by the subject in the video. Just watch it, it speaks for itself.

Special thanks to Change100 for posting this over on Pot Committed.

I know all I've been doing is posting funny shit I've seen lately. That's because I have nothing to say about poker. For some reason my mind just isn't in it and my results certainly show that. For what it's worth I won 500 bones in a $50 online tourney the other night, lost half of it already, got raped at Harrah's in Nawlins', won some money in a few cash games, lost every race I've been in for 6 months, see people catch up to my straights with the same straight, a better one, or a flush, sweat my balls off, drink cheap beer, unsucessfully quit smoking, and generally play like I'm on 4 valiums waiting for a flight to Haiti.

Oh, that and I was busy for 2 months building a race car. The race was last weekend. Now THAT was fricken fun. Article to follow, in the meantime a teaser pic...

A little something I found....

Now that's pretty funny.

Design the T-Shirt Contest

Alright folks, Big Slick Small Money is obviously on the fast track to the upper echelon of the blogosphere. What with contests, auto racing (HUH?), and supposed give aways, it's almost as though I'm acting like this is an actual website. I've already promised the submitter of the winning "screen name of the week" will win a "Big Slick Small Money" T-shirt.

And because someone other than me submitted the last winner, I guess I better get to thinking about making those t-shirts. But in order to make a t-shirt, one must first have a logo (in the middle of this I am donking off hundreds of dollars in the dumbest cash game I have ever played, I hope the rest of this makes some goddamn sense, fuck!).

So, as to not drag this out any further (Bodog SUCKS!!@#$), we now have a "Design The T-Shirt" contest.

Mr. Ferrara has been kind enough to submit the first entry in the contest. It is shown above. If anybody out there has any artistic ability, please help us out.

24 Hours of LeMons

Ain't been much posted about poker lately. While my buddies from Burnley have all been feverishly running satellites to get into one of the $1,500/$2,000 donkaments out at the world series, I have been preparing for a much more noble cause: The 24 Hours of LeMons. What? I'm donning a chapeau and offering very little resistance, you say? Going to the land of croissants, cigarettes, and meaningless political demonstrations? No, not LeMans, I said LeMOns as in "lemons". The "24 Hours of LeMons", what the hell is that?

The 24 Hours of LeMons is a celebration of the human spirit, the will to survive, to triumph, to overcome adversity, and to drink beer. In the words of founder and organizer Jay Lamm The 24 Hours of LeMons is.....

Nasty. Brutish. Not Short Enough.
The crowd. The spectacle. The pall of blue smoke and roasted clutch discs. In all motorsport, no event captures the universal human need to whale on old crapcans and hoover down greasy barbecue like the 24 Hours of LeMons.

Each LeMons race is for cars purchased, fixed up, and track-prepped for a total of 500 dollars or less. But before reaching the grid, you'll have to survive trials like the Personal-Injury-Lawyer Anti-Slalom, the Marxist-Valet Parking Challenge, and the Wide Open Throttle Rodthrowapalooza. Twelve hours into the race, the car voted People’s Choice is called in and awarded a cash prize; simultaneously, the car voted People’s Curse is called in and summarily destroyed. At the end of 24 hours, a gala awards ceremony plies the survivors with trophies, plaques, and four-figure purses in canvas bags full of nickels.

My team, Howard J. Turkstra Motorsports will be one of 90 teams participating in this racing extravaganza, to be held at Carolina Motorsports Park July 26th & 27th. We have located and are in negotiations to procure a 1984 Nissan 200SX. Once in our possession we will then gut the interior, knock out the glass and put in a roll cage and racing seat. We will scour various junkyards of the Carolinas in a veritable scavenger hunt for spare radiators, rear end assemblies, tires, alternators, and our long forgotten sanity. The race will encompass two full days, with teams of 4-6 drivers each taking turns chasing the rabbit in their juiced up jalopies around the 1.1 mile road course under the inevitably blazing sun.

The crowd is forecasted to be slightly less than the temperature is forecasted to be. BUT, the event will be covered by various grass roots racing magazines and websites so if you've got something you'd like to promote, sponsorship space on the car is still for sale but going fast. For more information email me at krhussey@hotmail.com


"The French are a smallish, monkey-looking bunch and not dressed any better, on average, than the citizens of Baltimore. True, you can sit outside in Paris and drink little cups of coffee, but why this is more stylish than sitting inside and drinking large glasses of whiskey I don't know." —P.J O'Rourke (1989)

Milfs by a Landslide

In a landslide victory, "PocketMilfs" is this week's screen name of the week.Out of a whopping 6 votes, the mothers in your pocket received 4. JerrBudd submitted it so he'll get a "BigSlickSmallMoney" T-shirt when I start makin' em.

R.I.P Sydney Pollack

Sydney Pollack died yesterday after a 9 month battle with cancer. He was one of my favorite directors and a hell of an actor. He was awesome in Michael Clayton, coining the classic line "He's an asshole...but he knows it." Eh, I got nothing else but I just wanted to pay homage to a genuine talent in that sea of shit known as Hollywood.

RIP Mr. Pollack

Some Hands are Just Unplayable

I just beat some guy for about $75 on a $.50-$1.00 table (Hey! Don't laugh, you know the name of this place) because he's awful. He LIMPED in EARLY position with K-5 offsuit (not that suited would further justify this play). He bet, I raised, he went all in for his last $35.

He had a pair of kings with a 5 kicker on a 10-9-K board, all clubs.

I flopped a flush with 4-5 clubs.

Here's the bonus. He just re-loaded.

Thanks to these guys, we drink better beer.

We're Goin' Dancin' With Lord Stanley

Well I'll be cow kicked, the Steel City juggernaut known as the Pittsburgh Penguins are once again going to the Stanley Cup! The Pens sent the Filthadelphia Flyers to an early tee time by destroying them 6-0 yesterday afternoon. It will take them years of self loathing and intense group therapy to recover from this monumental ass whooping.

By the way, that's $24 paid on a $20 bet on blowdog, I now not worry from where those next 6 gallons of gas are coming.



The Black and Gold simply looks unstoppable. They've got three bona fide superstars in Sydney Crosby, Evgeni Malkin, and Marion Hossa. Those three alone have combined to score 59 points in only 14 playoff games (22 goals, 37 assists). With support from Ryan Malone, Jordan Stahl, Peter Sykora, and a defense that is suffocating the opposition, the Penguins are a complete team playing a complete game. In the rare occassion that the front 5 allow anyone near the net, 3rd year goalie Marc Andre Fleury has been damn near unbeatable with a Goals Against Average of 1.70 and a save percentage of almost 94%. And the icing on the cake is George Laroque. He isn't the fastest skater or the best puck handler but he beats the shit out of people.



The Pens are 11/10 to win the cup, I got 'em 4 weeks ago at 7/2. Click below and it'll explain the title.

Have They Nothing Better To Do?

IF you're looking for a completely crime free place to live then I guess Charleston, SC must be it. Apparently the streets are so devoid of any wrong-doing that the police force has only one thing left to do. Commit enormous time and resources to bringing down that well-known apocalyptic scourge on civilization: Home Poker Games.

Instead of keeping people safe, ridding the roads of drunk drivers, and sweeping the meth out of the gutters, the law enforcement community of this southern tourist community has identified Public Enemy Number One as....wait for it... "people playing cards"?

On April 4, 2008 police officers from the Charleston area laced up their jack boots, donned their riot helmets, took a nice long hot piss on individual freedom and proceeded to raid three separate homes where people were playing cards, yuckin' it up, having a good time and drinking a few beers. Among those thrown in the hoosegow were a Deputy District Attorney, a police officer (something tells me he may have known this was coming), a Navy Officer, a teacher, and several prominent businessmen.

In total, 65 arrests were made and well over $40 grand was stolen from these otherwise law abiding citizens. In related news, it was reported that the $40,000 will be used for internal drug buys, unauthorized trips to Key West, and prostitutes for the higher ranking members of the Charleston police force. One arresting officer was excited about the prospect of a bonus so he could go to Vegas and "put it all on black".

But have no fear South Carolina tax payers, your dollars are hard at work and will be put to good use. After all, those arrested, if convicted, face misdemeanor charges and fines of "a few hundred dollars".

Authors Commentary: As you can see, this is nothing more than a shake down. The raids will do nothing to curb the frequency of home poker games NOR will it net any appreciable revenue by way of fines charged. BUT the Charleston law enforcement community gets to STEAL $40 grand from its hard working citizens and use it for the aforementioned vacations, hookers, and blow. The tertiary benefit, as always, is that 65 people will be forced to hire attorneys at rates on the average of $200 an hour. The cops benefit, the judges benefit, and the cops' and judges' buddies known as attorneys also benefit. So you see once again, everyone involved in the Justice System, except for individual citizens, benefits from this. La Costra Nostra would be proud of this level of organized crime.

Thankfully, this is not entirely just another story of the gestapo unnecessarily taking a shit on a good time and maybe something good will come out of it. Although the penalty is just a misdemeanor and paltry few hundred bucks, many charged are not taking that easy way out: They are choosing to fight.

Full Story Here

Let's wish them luck.

Screen Name of the Week

So far we've got four submissions:

"StackSmacker"

"ibetmywife"

“OutOfToiletPaper”

“StuckAssInFishBowl”

I got assworms

Well, it's final. In a blowout victory, "igotassworms" received 40% of the total vote to win the "screen name of the week" award. As was announced last week, readers of B.S.S.M. will submit nominations for the funniest, or most thought provoking, screen name they see on the internet. You know what? it doesn't even have to be on an online poker site. Anywhere you see, or make up, a screen name is fine. Even if it came from your favorite "I love Harry Potter" fansite or "Isn't Halo Just the SHIT!!" discussion board, it will still qualify.

The reader submitting the winning name will receive a free "Big Slick Small Money" T-shirt once I get around to making them. And since I submitted this week's winner, looks like my wardrobe will be upgraded....some day.

Courtesy of 50 Online Players

About 5 weeks ago I was staring out the window looking at the lake and cursing myself for playing online poker. It was 70 degrees on a Saturday afternoon and here I was hacking away at some $.50 - $1.00 cash game. "Caveman" I said to myself, "you need to get the hell out of your cave and go do something, anything but sitting here on beautiful late March afternoon." Just as I was thinking I couldn't be any more of a slug if I tried, my good buddy Phil called me with an interesting offer. "Dude, I just got a new bike, you wanna go mountain biking? you can ride my old one". I was tired and probably hungover but without a second's thought I said Hell Yeah.

Phil's one of those nonstop, do it all, all the time guys. Active as hell and in pretty good shape. Me? Well, I go to the gym 5 times as much as I want to but only half as much as I should and I really like beer. My right arm is slightly toned though, from dealing cards and occasionally moving around some 11.5 gram poker chips. Let's just say that I'm not at my fighting weight. Phil could climb The Matterhorn without stopping, I hadn't ridden a bike that requires pedalling in about ten years. But I do occasionally ride motocross, I was a local BMX champ in my early teens, and I do have the penchant for putting my bodily safety at risk. This was going to be interesting.

Phil threw all his old gear at me. "Here, you can wear this stuff" he said as I cautiously eyed a padless helmet and a Camelback drinking system that looked like he found it at Lance Armstrong's mother's garage sale back in '92. As he strapped on all his new gear and hopped on his new ultra plush, full suspension mondo kick ass mega bike, I felt underequipped, both physically and materially. But I was grateful as hell. I hadn't ridden in forever and it was time to get back on the horse.

Two minutes into the ride I was hooked. All it took was a few powerslides into the turns and about 2 feet of air off the first jump and that rush came back to me at once. We rode for about an hour and a half. I felt like someone just beat the shit out of me. His old, suspension-less bike had taken its toll on me. I was exhausted and most of my muscles were cramping but I couldn't stopped smiling. A good workout and having fun at the same time. Why the hell didn't I do this sooner?

As we loaded the bikes back into the truck I asked him how much one of those new fangled bikes with full suspension and disc brakes (yeah, just like a car!) would cost me. "Minimum of a grand for one worthwhile," he said, "guess you're gonna have to win a poker tournament." Hmmm, he had a point.

I immediately got heavy into it, riding 3-4 days a week. I spent the next few weeks riding his old dinosaur and my roommate's recreational level bike, knowing that sooner than later, I would need my own new ride. Phil's old bike was more of a torture rack, wrong size and old as hell, and Jeramy basically indicated I should either decide to buy his or move on.

Something needed to happen, soon.

Well, long story not so long, a little sun shone on this dog's ass the other night. As I often do, I grabbed a sixer of Sierra Nevada and plunked down $20+2 on the Bodog $6,000 guaranteed. I finished 2nd out of 319 players. And I should have won but my K-10 lost to K-9 just as I was about to capture the chip lead. With a flop of x-9-10 you tend to call your opponent's all in bet heads up w/ K-10. But another 9 came crashing down on the turn and I yelled a naughty word out loud. It happens all the time, better get used to it. My anguish and self pity came to a quick end, however, when the little box popped up saying "Congratulations, you finished 2nd in the tournament and won $1,035".

"THERE'S my new BIKE!" I yelled gleefully to nobody in particular and did a little dance.

I took that G down to Performance Bike and plunked it down on a nice new shiny Mongoose Teocali Comp. That's 4 hours in front of a laptop, well spent.

More on that later, gotta go ride.

Screen Name of the Week

I'm fairly certain that both of the readers of "Big Slick, Small Money" play at least a little online poker. I do as well and in the course of wasting more of my time than money, I have come across a few genuinely funny screen names. Some are meant to intimidate, some are meant to deceive, but these names are just meant to amuse. So, it got me to thinking (cue rising smoke) we should have a weekly contest to spot the funniest screen name (or just make 'em up).

Every week users will submit screen names they've either seen or fabricated, either way - it doesn't matter, and we will vote on the funniest. The weekly winner will be announced every Friday (or sometime hopefully by Sunday if I forget). Each week's winner will receive a free "Big Slick, Small Money" t-shirt, as soon as I start making them. No names with "420" in them will be accepted, that whole thing is way played out. To get us going, here's a few I've seen:

"ijustwentpoop"

"igotassworms"

"UglylikeLiebert" (mean but lets' admit it, pretty funny)

"Waiting4Gus"

User submissions will be accepted in the "comment" section.

Break Out the Brooms...

...'cause it's gonna be a sweep. That will be one Ulysses S. Grant, Mr. Buff.

Last night, the Pittsburgh Penguins continued their domination of the hockey world, embarrassing the New York Rangers in their home dump called Madison Square Garden. High scoring games, low scoring, rough and tumble...it doesn't matter. No matter how many goals the opposition scores, the Penguins simply score more.

In a development that will leave many Pens fans grinning between gulps of Iron City, it was learned after the game that New York's chief punk-ass Sean Avery had ruptured his spleen. It is reported he will make a full recovery, so there is nothing wrong with making fun of him. He's a douche bag and a habitual line-stepper but we wish no ill health on anyone. Make a full recovery Mr. Avery, so the Penguins can kick the shit out of you next year!

A victory in tomorrow night's game would make 8 in a row. Thank god it's not Detriot, where you'd have to be on the lookout for a flying octupus. Don't worry about that happening, the Ded Wings are an aging, decrepit collection of hockey fossils and also rans. They'll never win another 8 in a row and if they are so fortunate to emerge from the inferior Western Conference, they will be soundly defeated by the Pittsburgh Juggernaut. I will have no mercy for them, they just don't have a chance.

Happy Birthday Dale

Amid the scurry of getting out of town to see Widespread with Gosney, I was remiss to mention Dale Earnhardt's birthday yesterday.

Dale was obviously a god amongst men, the best race car driver ever to ever fire up an engine. He was also one of us. He came from nothing. He never kissed anyone's ass. Never smiled for the camera and said the right thing, never made excuses. He never sought the spotlight and he never ran from blame. He did what he wanted to do: WIN. He did what we all wanted to do. He just seemed to be a little better at it.

Dale was REAL. He was no character carved from some corporate vanilla, mass appealling mold. His goals, his aspirations, his talents, his flaws....we all felt them in us too. He humbly, quietly went about reaching his goals, climbing from the bottom, undeterred by any obstacle in his path, asking no favors and giving no quarter, on his way to becoming the best ever. To quote a line out of Jeff MacGregor's (my favorite author EVER) book "Sunday Money", when asked to describe the mystical appeal that Earnhardt garnered with all his fans, one of those fans, an RV dealership Service Manager in the midwest, simply answered "Well, he drove like I feel." That about sums it up.

Dale Earnhardt. The God of Thunder, Forever The Man.

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Quick Post

They just played a cut off of Slayer's classic album "Reign in Blood" over the PA system at the Penguins playoff game. Told you Pittsburgh is awesome!