Chips Ahoy

I love fads. Sometimes I go too far, like when I went anti-carb and replaced my car’s carburetor with a piece of bacon. But fad-following is the reason I’m writing the pilot for a home-makeover show where three gay guys go into your house and steal all your pasta. It’s going to make me rich. Which is fortunate, because I’m also into another fad that requires major capital: poker.

There was a story on Fox news the other night about how people around the city are playing poker tournaments in their houses, and how that’s illegal or something. I didn’t watch all of it because I was too busy practicing how I’d bet an off-suit Q-6 if I was in the small blind at my friends’ weekly home poker tournament. I don’t see how it’s illegal to run your own game anyway—you see the Sopranos playing poker in the back room of the Bada Bing all the time, and HBO wouldn’t show people doing things that are against the law. But with that in mind, I guess I shouldn’t reveal where I played my first poker tournament last week, because the next thing you know the cops will be knocking on the door wanting to stop our harmless fun, just like that guy we killed did.

I’m joking—or am I? If you’re a little unsure, it’s because I’m a poker player now. I’m inherently sketchy and possibly dangerous. I use a toothpick instead of dental floss. Like the script to an episode of North Shore, I’m unreadable. Before I played poker, I was the kind of guy who smiled. In other words, easy prey, a can of Alpo for the big dogs. An open can of Alpo, because otherwise that metaphor would be all wrong.

So you probably want to know how I did. Well, I won. I won it all in my first tourney. I had so many chips at the end, I was in danger of winning Erik Estrada. My strategy was to act like I completely didn’t know what I was doing. This was easy, because I completely didn’t know what I was doing. I was unsure of when to bet, how much to bet, or what my hand meant. I didn’t understand any of the terminology, and when other players would say things like, “I can’t believe you beat me with a nut flush on the river,” I’d hear “Blah blah blah you beat me blah blah.” But to get back to the point: I won, so obviously all these people selling poker how-to books are leading you in the wrong direction. Ignorance is the way to go.

With this approach, I hope to emulate top players like Chris Moneymaker and have a very implausible name. I’m thinking that if a guy named Ezra Winsallyourmoney sits down at the table, right away you’re scared and will probably play right into my hands. In another innovation, I plan to one-up the Unabomber, who wears a hooded sweatshirt and sunglasses to psych out his opposition and hide his facial expressions. I’m going to wear a burka under a football helmet. Like my name, this will make everyone very uneasy. When I want to be dramatic, I will slowly remove the football helmet, then suddenly tear off the burka and pretend I’m looking at my competitors through a periscope. When I fold up my imaginary periscope and order the torpedo tubes flooded, that will be my signature move that lets the other players know they’re about to lose some serious chips. Poker purists will say I’m one of the new breed of hot-doggers who is ruining a once-proud game with my outrageous antics, like when I run around the table between hands yelling “Duck! Duck! Goose!” or refer to my chips as “my Priz-ningles.” Ben Affleck will demand I be banned from the World Series of Poker after I eliminate him while dressed as Daredevil.

So why is poker so hot right now, you ask? As an experienced player, let me try to explain. Part of it is because of the emergence of Texas Hold’Em, which is much more exciting than any other kind of poker for some reason. And part of it is because people are burned out on other games—we all knew the Go Fish explosion of the late ’90s had to end sooner or later, and it did when Rummy 500 burst onto the scene. But this poker thing is here to stay. It’s got all the elements of a winner: drama, suspense, skill, the vagaries of chance, a Kenny Rogers song about it. Kenny Rogers doesn’t get inspired by just any game, OK? It’s not, “You’ve gotta know when to connect four, know when to neglect four.”

Now let’s order some bacon, crack a Coke C2 and get this game started. ∂