It has been far too long since my last blog, The change in my employment has had a large part to do with that. Funny that I have had more free time now for quite a while, yet I have written less.
I recently watched the movie Deal, against the advice of every review I could get my hands on, and of course against my better judgement. The convergence of my two biggest interests (film and poker) must truly inhibit my common sense.
The poker boom is traced by many to the John Dahl independent film Rounders. The post Will Hunting vehicle for Matt Damon. Damon (and certainly his costar Ed Norton) and Chris Moneymaker have brought so many potential poker players to the world of gambling for a living. The movie arguably the best "poker movie" made to date. I tend to champion Steve McQueen's The Cincinnati Kid, over Rounders, almost strictly because Rounders is so evidently the more trendy choice.
Both films have major flaws that help anyone who wants to argue against the film's poker "supremacy."
The featured game in Kid is five-card stud, which is now an antiquated game, rarely played. In the final hand (spoiler alert) The Man draws an incredibly improbable Queen high straight flush (the odds of this in five card game are beyond astronomical, just being dealt a straight flush only happens 1 out of 72,193 times) to best The Kid's tens full of Aces(the odds of this match up of hands occurring are even more laughable: 332,220,508,619 to 1) This hand stinks of Hollywood, and the sheer lunacy of the probability of this match up occurring threatens to undo all of the great poker displayed in the film up to this point (The terrific hero call made in the opening hand by the Kid, and ridiculous bluff run by the Man on Pig are the highlights). After thinking about it though. I think its the only spot in which the Kid could be broken, and the point of the film can not be driven home unless he loses.
In Rounders, my major gripe occurs with the betting in the first big hand, in which Mike McDermott is felted by Malkovich's Teddy KGB. While the hand is based on a colossal misread by McDermott, he made two crucial mistakes in the hand. The first was playing with his entire bankroll. This mistake occurs more often than it should in real life, but one would think that a player with the skills of McD would no better (he even says it; "always leave yourself outs"). The second mistake is his $33,000 raise on the river. Mike holds the second nuts (nuts is pokerspeak for the second-best hand possible) with a nines full of aces full house. He assumes that KGB holds a spade flush, based on his analysis on KGB's play in the hand so far. The ridiculous occurs with Mike, assuming that KGB has a weak hand, raises his huge $15,000 bet into a $5,000 pot, a staggering $33,000 more. KGB can only justify a call with hand better than the one that McDermott holds. A player like McDermott would likely call in that spot, not raise.
But these are quibbling problems. Overall both movies offer excellent depictions of poker, and its encompassing lifestyle. The two most recent movies based in poker that I have watched; Deal and Curtis Hanson's stinker Lucky You, have one common plot point which irritate me to no end. Both movies end with the final table of a prestigious poker tournament, and the father/son and teacher/student combinations from each respective plot facing off against each other.
In both films the protagonist purposely folds a vastly superior hand to their opponent. Nice killer instinct guys. In what poker world would anyone fold a winning hand on purpose. It makes sense that the director wants to make a point. But in no way are there any poker players who would do this. Just pisses me off that poker is being sold to the masses this way.
Poker players are trying to win the money. They don't care about making statements. They win or they lose. They're all degenerates (though some more than others). Don't try and dress them up. Just accept it and move on.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Saturday, June 21, 2008
I see scary plants
The Happening
(dir. M. Night Shyamalan)
(starring Mark Wahlberg, Zooey Deschanel, John Leguizamo)
(*** out of ****)
Movies like this walk a very fine line. One on hand, I love a movie that makes me think, but I hate a movie that is so absurd it makes no sense. The more I let all the parts of M. Night Shyamalan's sixth Hollywood endeavor germinate, the more I begin to believe that this film is more of the former rather than the latter.
M. Night's chosen path as a filmmaker reminds of one of those awesomely bad "No Fear" T-shirts that were popular for a hot minute in my formative middle school years: "If you're not living on the edge then you're taking up too much space." Shyamalan has consistently tread on that hair's breadth of a line between genius and poppy-cock (at least in my own estimation) since he burst onto the Hollywood scene almost ten years ago.
Shyamalan knocked one out of the park with his first film 1999's the Sixth Sense. The film with the "killer twist," scored huge at the box office, and landed eight Oscar nominations (including two for Shyamalan himself for writing and directing). It was unheard of that a "scary" movie could play so well for the snooty Academy, so it was not necessarily a disappointment when the film tallied a nasty goose-egg on the big night. Also raking in nearly $300 million in domestic box office on a modest $55 million budget is not too shabby.
Shyamalan has yet to replicate the magic of the Sixth Sense in terms of universal appeal, but he has stayed true to his own style each time out, sometimes to his detriment. With one harrowing exception M. Night has always recouped his film's budget in domestic box office receipts, and that generally keep someone interested in financing you're films no matter how weird they are.
His second film Unbreakable retained the high-powered star that powered his first success, Bruce Willis, and added the money hungry Samuel L. Jackson (I say that lovingly because Jackson seems to do every movie that he reads; he's been in some world class bombs). It was an homage to Shyamalan's lifelong fascination with comic books. His heroes didn't wear flashy colors, and the movie's twist was that the main character's were in fact the stereotypical hero and villain. The movie didn't quite break $100 million at the box office. It might have been bad timing as the first X-men movie had killed during the summer, and maybe moviegoers weren't looking for an offbeat, darker comic book movie.
For Signs, M Night. traded in John McClane for Martin Riggs, and regained his mojo with a $227 million rake. His alien invasion spooker, was well structured. I still maintain that the first reveal of the alien through the news footage is one of the best "recoil" moments in any film this decade. Then the twist truly ruined the film for me. Shyamalan nicked the alien's weakness from H.G Wells, and he made it even more absurd. How do those aliens choose to land on a planet covered with a the very substance that is deadly to them. YAWN! Talk about deflating the suspense.
The trailers for 2004's The Village, didn't inspire very much confidence. I vowed to not watch the film's due to the trailer's pandering to a horror movie's lowest common denominator. I was thus perplexed when my best friend insisted I give the film chance, giving it a must-see label. I entered the theater highly skeptical, and needless to say I was floored by what transpired.
After three films with pronounced twists, one can't watch his films without trying to unravel the mystery before the "big reveal" So I immediately went for M. Night's "dummy twist" proclaiming out loud in the theater "The monster's aren't real!" So as my guard was then lower I was completely blindsided by the real twist, that the film was in fact not a period piece, but a support group of those who had lost loved ones to crimes of passion, had fashioned an isolated community to attempt to escape from the evil that permeates our society today. I remember hearing people scoff at the idea of people foregoing the comforts of modern technology to live in a agrarian society, but I was fairly impressed by the message that even in a simple society you cannot escape man's inherent desire to harm one another to obtain that which they can't.
Oh and I developed an unhealthy fixation on Bryce Dallas Howard, the first in a long line of movie star and musician redheads, that I pine after still.
It was Howard's involvement in Lady in the Water, that ultimately disappointed me the most. Easily the worst of M. Night's canon. I was really disappointed that Howard would agree to star in such a horrible film. I honestly couldn't finish The Lady in the Water. It was the first movie of Shyamalan's to truly fail at the box office, only netting $44 million domestically despite a $75 million budget. Shyamalan had enjoyed a budget around that size since his breakout hit, but the Lady fiasco knocked him down peg, and this summer's the Happening was made for $57 million.
Now for the main event. The Happening is a meticulously structured paranoia thiller, with impressive notes of cringe-inducing horror, and mild comedic beats. The movie is really just meat and potatoes, which some will slam as over simplified, but to me is merely concise and effective.
The movie opens with the scores of people in Central Park suddenly stopping what they are doing, and deciding to end their own lives by whatever means they can. The news outlets in the film identify that toxin was introduced that flips the inhibitor in the brain that controls our human predication for self preservation. The toxin is suggested as a terrorist attack, leading those in major cities to evacuate. This is no "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" rip-off. Those exposed to the toxin are only a threat to one person: themselves. An enemy you can't see or defend against is nothing new, but one who turns you on yourself is a fresh take for sure.
The plot then follows race of a few people to avoid this toxin as best they can. The two leads are a recently married couple, Elliott and Alma. Elliot (Wahlberg) is a high school science teacher, a hopeless romantic, who may have married Alma (Deschanel) hastily. Also in their group is Elliott's co-worker Julian (Leguizamo) and his young daughter Jess (Ashlyn Sanchez). Julian leaves Jess with Alma and Elliott to go after his wife, who had made her way to a different town than their group.
It becomes based on the patterns of the toxin's release, that terrorists aren't behind the toxin, but that plant's are the source of the toxin. The first instances occurred in parks, and they are only occurring in the northeast United States, where there is the highest concentration of nuclear power plants. Thus this M, Night twist seems to have a very political theme: Human beings are polluting their planet to such a degree that plants have evolved in response and are sic-ing humans on themselves to even the playing field. It is suggested that the plants' are triggered by groups of people, prompting the survivors to split into smaller and smaller groups.
This twist is partial reversal on the twist from Signs, but for better effect. Our planet is covered with flora, and therefore, if plants were ever a danger to us, how could we escape their wrath. Mind you this a more elegant version that killer plants. The film does not contain.garish man-eating venus flytraps.
The secondary motivation that triggers the plants to release the toxin, is even more subtle and subject to much debate. It appears that anger and/ or hate is also a catalyst for the toxin's release. A small group arguing over who's in charge prompts a release, and an lone angry woman does as well. Towards the end of the film the remaining three leads: Elliot, Alma, and Jess find themselves separated in what they term to be the end of their lives. Due to their intense love for each other, which was confirmed and strengthened in their flight from this epidemic, they choose to face danger head on, to be together in their final moments. It is at this moment that the episode ends. One can be led to believe that they were simply fortunate that it ended, or one could argue that their love actually prompted these plants to "stand down." These three had abandoned their fear of death, dismantling the efficacy of the plant's toxin.
Thus the strategy of dispersing this toxin reveals its true genius. Facing an unidentifiable and seemingly inescapable foe, those in the line of fire would be hard pressed to feel anything but fear and despair, and even anger at their own helplessness. And they therefore will forever be the best targets.
Peeling back these layers of narrative construction like an onion, further reinforce my appreciation for this film. The acting was fair to middling. However scenes like one where Elliott pleads with a potted plant to not kill him only to find out the plant was plastic redeem the weaker ones.
James Newton Howard's score is Oscar-worthy, as is generally the case.
Overall my faith in M. Night Shyamalan is restored for the time being. He's prone to a make a misstep or two, so a film of this caliber doesn't not completely absolve him for Lady in the Water, but he's certainly out of the dog house. The film is not a homerun, but is most certainly a triple, which are generally harder to come by.
(dir. M. Night Shyamalan)
(starring Mark Wahlberg, Zooey Deschanel, John Leguizamo)
(*** out of ****)
Movies like this walk a very fine line. One on hand, I love a movie that makes me think, but I hate a movie that is so absurd it makes no sense. The more I let all the parts of M. Night Shyamalan's sixth Hollywood endeavor germinate, the more I begin to believe that this film is more of the former rather than the latter.
M. Night's chosen path as a filmmaker reminds of one of those awesomely bad "No Fear" T-shirts that were popular for a hot minute in my formative middle school years: "If you're not living on the edge then you're taking up too much space." Shyamalan has consistently tread on that hair's breadth of a line between genius and poppy-cock (at least in my own estimation) since he burst onto the Hollywood scene almost ten years ago.
Shyamalan knocked one out of the park with his first film 1999's the Sixth Sense. The film with the "killer twist," scored huge at the box office, and landed eight Oscar nominations (including two for Shyamalan himself for writing and directing). It was unheard of that a "scary" movie could play so well for the snooty Academy, so it was not necessarily a disappointment when the film tallied a nasty goose-egg on the big night. Also raking in nearly $300 million in domestic box office on a modest $55 million budget is not too shabby.
Shyamalan has yet to replicate the magic of the Sixth Sense in terms of universal appeal, but he has stayed true to his own style each time out, sometimes to his detriment. With one harrowing exception M. Night has always recouped his film's budget in domestic box office receipts, and that generally keep someone interested in financing you're films no matter how weird they are.
His second film Unbreakable retained the high-powered star that powered his first success, Bruce Willis, and added the money hungry Samuel L. Jackson (I say that lovingly because Jackson seems to do every movie that he reads; he's been in some world class bombs). It was an homage to Shyamalan's lifelong fascination with comic books. His heroes didn't wear flashy colors, and the movie's twist was that the main character's were in fact the stereotypical hero and villain. The movie didn't quite break $100 million at the box office. It might have been bad timing as the first X-men movie had killed during the summer, and maybe moviegoers weren't looking for an offbeat, darker comic book movie.
For Signs, M Night. traded in John McClane for Martin Riggs, and regained his mojo with a $227 million rake. His alien invasion spooker, was well structured. I still maintain that the first reveal of the alien through the news footage is one of the best "recoil" moments in any film this decade. Then the twist truly ruined the film for me. Shyamalan nicked the alien's weakness from H.G Wells, and he made it even more absurd. How do those aliens choose to land on a planet covered with a the very substance that is deadly to them. YAWN! Talk about deflating the suspense.
The trailers for 2004's The Village, didn't inspire very much confidence. I vowed to not watch the film's due to the trailer's pandering to a horror movie's lowest common denominator. I was thus perplexed when my best friend insisted I give the film chance, giving it a must-see label. I entered the theater highly skeptical, and needless to say I was floored by what transpired.
After three films with pronounced twists, one can't watch his films without trying to unravel the mystery before the "big reveal" So I immediately went for M. Night's "dummy twist" proclaiming out loud in the theater "The monster's aren't real!" So as my guard was then lower I was completely blindsided by the real twist, that the film was in fact not a period piece, but a support group of those who had lost loved ones to crimes of passion, had fashioned an isolated community to attempt to escape from the evil that permeates our society today. I remember hearing people scoff at the idea of people foregoing the comforts of modern technology to live in a agrarian society, but I was fairly impressed by the message that even in a simple society you cannot escape man's inherent desire to harm one another to obtain that which they can't.
Oh and I developed an unhealthy fixation on Bryce Dallas Howard, the first in a long line of movie star and musician redheads, that I pine after still.
It was Howard's involvement in Lady in the Water, that ultimately disappointed me the most. Easily the worst of M. Night's canon. I was really disappointed that Howard would agree to star in such a horrible film. I honestly couldn't finish The Lady in the Water. It was the first movie of Shyamalan's to truly fail at the box office, only netting $44 million domestically despite a $75 million budget. Shyamalan had enjoyed a budget around that size since his breakout hit, but the Lady fiasco knocked him down peg, and this summer's the Happening was made for $57 million.
Now for the main event. The Happening is a meticulously structured paranoia thiller, with impressive notes of cringe-inducing horror, and mild comedic beats. The movie is really just meat and potatoes, which some will slam as over simplified, but to me is merely concise and effective.
The movie opens with the scores of people in Central Park suddenly stopping what they are doing, and deciding to end their own lives by whatever means they can. The news outlets in the film identify that toxin was introduced that flips the inhibitor in the brain that controls our human predication for self preservation. The toxin is suggested as a terrorist attack, leading those in major cities to evacuate. This is no "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" rip-off. Those exposed to the toxin are only a threat to one person: themselves. An enemy you can't see or defend against is nothing new, but one who turns you on yourself is a fresh take for sure.
The plot then follows race of a few people to avoid this toxin as best they can. The two leads are a recently married couple, Elliott and Alma. Elliot (Wahlberg) is a high school science teacher, a hopeless romantic, who may have married Alma (Deschanel) hastily. Also in their group is Elliott's co-worker Julian (Leguizamo) and his young daughter Jess (Ashlyn Sanchez). Julian leaves Jess with Alma and Elliott to go after his wife, who had made her way to a different town than their group.
It becomes based on the patterns of the toxin's release, that terrorists aren't behind the toxin, but that plant's are the source of the toxin. The first instances occurred in parks, and they are only occurring in the northeast United States, where there is the highest concentration of nuclear power plants. Thus this M, Night twist seems to have a very political theme: Human beings are polluting their planet to such a degree that plants have evolved in response and are sic-ing humans on themselves to even the playing field. It is suggested that the plants' are triggered by groups of people, prompting the survivors to split into smaller and smaller groups.
This twist is partial reversal on the twist from Signs, but for better effect. Our planet is covered with flora, and therefore, if plants were ever a danger to us, how could we escape their wrath. Mind you this a more elegant version that killer plants. The film does not contain.garish man-eating venus flytraps.
The secondary motivation that triggers the plants to release the toxin, is even more subtle and subject to much debate. It appears that anger and/ or hate is also a catalyst for the toxin's release. A small group arguing over who's in charge prompts a release, and an lone angry woman does as well. Towards the end of the film the remaining three leads: Elliot, Alma, and Jess find themselves separated in what they term to be the end of their lives. Due to their intense love for each other, which was confirmed and strengthened in their flight from this epidemic, they choose to face danger head on, to be together in their final moments. It is at this moment that the episode ends. One can be led to believe that they were simply fortunate that it ended, or one could argue that their love actually prompted these plants to "stand down." These three had abandoned their fear of death, dismantling the efficacy of the plant's toxin.
Thus the strategy of dispersing this toxin reveals its true genius. Facing an unidentifiable and seemingly inescapable foe, those in the line of fire would be hard pressed to feel anything but fear and despair, and even anger at their own helplessness. And they therefore will forever be the best targets.
Peeling back these layers of narrative construction like an onion, further reinforce my appreciation for this film. The acting was fair to middling. However scenes like one where Elliott pleads with a potted plant to not kill him only to find out the plant was plastic redeem the weaker ones.
James Newton Howard's score is Oscar-worthy, as is generally the case.
Overall my faith in M. Night Shyamalan is restored for the time being. He's prone to a make a misstep or two, so a film of this caliber doesn't not completely absolve him for Lady in the Water, but he's certainly out of the dog house. The film is not a homerun, but is most certainly a triple, which are generally harder to come by.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
the worst place to wake up
When I came to, I was surrounded by annoyed medical professionals who calmly told me to lay back, try to relax, and to tell them what I had drank that night. My vision was blurred, my motor skills weren't all there, and my chest was on fire. Slowly I realized I had passed out for the umpteenth time due to drinking, and this time I had actually been taken to the hospital.
It was Homecoming my senior year at college. My fraternity made a little formal date party of the event, and I being of supreme wisdom had declined to bring a date. The idea of coat-and-tie tailgating seems absurd to me five years later, mainly because I associate tailgating with less than formal pursuits like shotgunning beers and messy barbeque finger foods. However our fraternity's alumni had put together a nice little spread under our tent, with jambalaya and several different bottles of whiskey. Little did I know that at the end of the evening I would be waking up in the second-worst place to wake up following a drinking stupor.
My most impressive blackout feat to this point in time had been our semi-formal party my sophmore year, when I had awakened in the bushes across the street from the New Orleans Convention Center at 7 in the morning, just next to the off ramp of Interstate 10. I was wearing my brown suit (which blended into the mulch I was laying in). I had however lost my tie, and one of my shoes. I cabbed it back to campus (amazingly I still had my wallet). The cab-driver mentioned that I was missing a shoe, and I agreed with him quietly, and we finished the ride in silence. That evening we had a fraternity meeting, and no one could piece together what happened to me. It would be the first of many times over the next three years that I would black out, and simply wander away at night.
In rampant denial of my alcoholism, I noted that my date to that night's function, had left very early in the night to take care of a friend of hers. With her gone I ceased to curtail my drinking to a reasonable level, and swiftly imbibed myself into a bush. If in fact the lack of a date catalyzed my drinking, it did not bode well for me two years later at homecoming when I was dateless for the whole event, and wearing that same "lucky" brown suit.
At homecoming senior year, I did not see one actual football play executed. I stayed outside the stadium for both halves, only venturing in for the halftime show to see the featured act Outkast. Filming an MTV special, they performed their latest hit Hey Ya! twice in a row, much to the chagrin of the full stadium standing in a light, drizzling rain. I focused on counting bottles that day instead of downs. I progressed throughout the day from Makers Mark, to Jack Daniels, to my old standby Jim Beam. We simply kept finishing the bottles so I had to move on to what I gauged was the next best thing.
I remember heading from homecoming to a bar following the game. We had some food out, and a keg tapped there was laughing and dancing ... This is where the memories end. When I came to, my "lucky" brown suit was still on me. However the hospital staff had cut right sleeve of the coat lengthwise to my shoulder, to put in my IV and get me rehydrated. I distinctly remember how curtly I was being admonished by one nurse in particular, as if to say "Christ, why do I have to babysit these drunk college kids?"
Oh and reason my chest burned was because I had been given a sternum rub to determine how deep my alcohol coma was. I had not come to as a some doctors knuckles had scraped up and down my sternum, prompting the destruction of my favorite suit coat and button-down shirt.
Once again, none of my fraternity brothers had any idea that I was in the hospital. My brother happened to be in town with a friend from high school, and he called my cell phone, and was given the story when a nurse picked up on my end. He came and picked me up at the hospital and left me in my own bed with a bottle of Gatorade.
I reflect on this story now, because I realize that waking up in the hospital is probably the next to worst place to wake up, and I really hope I never experience the first. In my estimation the worst place to wake up would in fact be jail. A good friend of mine recently told me that
...
I've been tossing this story around recently because an acquaintance of mine recently found himself arrested, and in that worst place, for the second time. I had seen him just prior to an incident which ultimately led to him ending up in jail again.
A good friend of mine who cares deeply for this person went out on the line for this unlucky individual, securing his bail through a bail bondsman. I don't believe he's gotten much support from those close to him for this decision.
My friend cares deeply for this individual, and feels that he doesn't deserve to stay in jail while he waits for his court date. At the advice of his lawyer he also believes that the judge will be more likely to be lenient should the individual show up in civilian clothes rather than an orange jumpsuit.
I've still not decided how I feel overall about the situation. I did not know the individual in question well enough to justify securing his bail as my friend did. I know many friends who I would jump to help in a time of need, and similarly those who would come to my aid. What if I should I do something to one day warrant ending up in jail? So my friends and/or family come to my rescue. What if I follow up that kindness, and end up in jail again? At what point do they stop trying to rescue me?
I hope that things iron out as this situation unfolds. I am simply a spectator to this contest. I can only wish for the best; I can't do anything to influence the outcome.
The board is set...the pieces are moving. I can only pray this ends well.
It was Homecoming my senior year at college. My fraternity made a little formal date party of the event, and I being of supreme wisdom had declined to bring a date. The idea of coat-and-tie tailgating seems absurd to me five years later, mainly because I associate tailgating with less than formal pursuits like shotgunning beers and messy barbeque finger foods. However our fraternity's alumni had put together a nice little spread under our tent, with jambalaya and several different bottles of whiskey. Little did I know that at the end of the evening I would be waking up in the second-worst place to wake up following a drinking stupor.
My most impressive blackout feat to this point in time had been our semi-formal party my sophmore year, when I had awakened in the bushes across the street from the New Orleans Convention Center at 7 in the morning, just next to the off ramp of Interstate 10. I was wearing my brown suit (which blended into the mulch I was laying in). I had however lost my tie, and one of my shoes. I cabbed it back to campus (amazingly I still had my wallet). The cab-driver mentioned that I was missing a shoe, and I agreed with him quietly, and we finished the ride in silence. That evening we had a fraternity meeting, and no one could piece together what happened to me. It would be the first of many times over the next three years that I would black out, and simply wander away at night.
In rampant denial of my alcoholism, I noted that my date to that night's function, had left very early in the night to take care of a friend of hers. With her gone I ceased to curtail my drinking to a reasonable level, and swiftly imbibed myself into a bush. If in fact the lack of a date catalyzed my drinking, it did not bode well for me two years later at homecoming when I was dateless for the whole event, and wearing that same "lucky" brown suit.
At homecoming senior year, I did not see one actual football play executed. I stayed outside the stadium for both halves, only venturing in for the halftime show to see the featured act Outkast. Filming an MTV special, they performed their latest hit Hey Ya! twice in a row, much to the chagrin of the full stadium standing in a light, drizzling rain. I focused on counting bottles that day instead of downs. I progressed throughout the day from Makers Mark, to Jack Daniels, to my old standby Jim Beam. We simply kept finishing the bottles so I had to move on to what I gauged was the next best thing.
I remember heading from homecoming to a bar following the game. We had some food out, and a keg tapped there was laughing and dancing ... This is where the memories end. When I came to, my "lucky" brown suit was still on me. However the hospital staff had cut right sleeve of the coat lengthwise to my shoulder, to put in my IV and get me rehydrated. I distinctly remember how curtly I was being admonished by one nurse in particular, as if to say "Christ, why do I have to babysit these drunk college kids?"
Oh and reason my chest burned was because I had been given a sternum rub to determine how deep my alcohol coma was. I had not come to as a some doctors knuckles had scraped up and down my sternum, prompting the destruction of my favorite suit coat and button-down shirt.
Once again, none of my fraternity brothers had any idea that I was in the hospital. My brother happened to be in town with a friend from high school, and he called my cell phone, and was given the story when a nurse picked up on my end. He came and picked me up at the hospital and left me in my own bed with a bottle of Gatorade.
I reflect on this story now, because I realize that waking up in the hospital is probably the next to worst place to wake up, and I really hope I never experience the first. In my estimation the worst place to wake up would in fact be jail. A good friend of mine recently told me that
...
I've been tossing this story around recently because an acquaintance of mine recently found himself arrested, and in that worst place, for the second time. I had seen him just prior to an incident which ultimately led to him ending up in jail again.
A good friend of mine who cares deeply for this person went out on the line for this unlucky individual, securing his bail through a bail bondsman. I don't believe he's gotten much support from those close to him for this decision.
My friend cares deeply for this individual, and feels that he doesn't deserve to stay in jail while he waits for his court date. At the advice of his lawyer he also believes that the judge will be more likely to be lenient should the individual show up in civilian clothes rather than an orange jumpsuit.
I've still not decided how I feel overall about the situation. I did not know the individual in question well enough to justify securing his bail as my friend did. I know many friends who I would jump to help in a time of need, and similarly those who would come to my aid. What if I should I do something to one day warrant ending up in jail? So my friends and/or family come to my rescue. What if I follow up that kindness, and end up in jail again? At what point do they stop trying to rescue me?
I hope that things iron out as this situation unfolds. I am simply a spectator to this contest. I can only wish for the best; I can't do anything to influence the outcome.
The board is set...the pieces are moving. I can only pray this ends well.
Friday, June 6, 2008
behind closed doors
Its a harrowing thought that these days, an exciting news story for me involves a town government possibly talking about things they shouldn't in closed session: things like grant applications. When did these things begin to pique my interest?
I tried to explain why I was finally handed something interesting to write about to my friends last weekend. As I laid out the details, I could see my friends' eyes glaze over: they had mentally checked out. They were no longer listening, but merely waiting for me to stop talking. One of them then compared me to the nameless, faceless teachers in a Peanuts cartoon, whose verbal output was a consistently unintelligible noise (while the noise is instantly recognizable when spoken, I find it hard to replicate in written words).
How do I explain that what I was assigned to write about was interesting? I tend to dismiss most of what I right in my summations of these torturous board of commissioners meetings as trivial and most certainly yawn-inducing. Endless people searching for exceptions to zoning ordinances so they can save $5,000 less on their million dollar construction project. Occasionally though the boards must talk about private matters, such as personnel issues or lawsuits, so they go into closed session. The public cannot know what goes on in closed session, until the matters discussed are no longer sensitive, at which point the closed session minutes are released.
Another time when closed session is needed is when the town is considering purchasing property. They can discuss the matter in closed session in order to protect their bid on the property. However the decision to use any municipal funds cannot be made in closed session; the public should know how the money is always being spent.
So recently we receive a press release from the state agency that has just approved a grant for one of our local governments. Further research into corresponding project reveals that it is contingent upon another sizable grant as well as matching funds from that government. Funny how that town had never to this point mentioned this project in their board meetings, despite having given approval for these grant applications.
So then the town announced support of the second grant recently, and suddenly the dollar amounts involved in the project were different (only four days later). The property owner was now asking for less than before, therefore the second grant would be for significantly less, and now the entire project could be funded without the town providing additional funds. Funny how that works.
This park project that should now be funded, should benefit the community. Thus the dilemma is: if a governing body conspires to do something away from the public eye, is it justified if the end result is beneficial? Who decided if the ultimate goal was beneficial or not?
I'm reminded of a similar ethics argument existing in the movie Gone Baby Gone. Should one who is charged with upholding the law, knowingly break the law to do what they think is right?
I don't tend to like politics, but seeing as I am technically the government reporter at this newspaper at which I work, I figure it was only a matter of time before I started rolling around in these sorts of issues. I can't promise I won't blog about politics in the future, but I sure hope my next political-themed rant is a long way off.
I tried to explain why I was finally handed something interesting to write about to my friends last weekend. As I laid out the details, I could see my friends' eyes glaze over: they had mentally checked out. They were no longer listening, but merely waiting for me to stop talking. One of them then compared me to the nameless, faceless teachers in a Peanuts cartoon, whose verbal output was a consistently unintelligible noise (while the noise is instantly recognizable when spoken, I find it hard to replicate in written words).
How do I explain that what I was assigned to write about was interesting? I tend to dismiss most of what I right in my summations of these torturous board of commissioners meetings as trivial and most certainly yawn-inducing. Endless people searching for exceptions to zoning ordinances so they can save $5,000 less on their million dollar construction project. Occasionally though the boards must talk about private matters, such as personnel issues or lawsuits, so they go into closed session. The public cannot know what goes on in closed session, until the matters discussed are no longer sensitive, at which point the closed session minutes are released.
Another time when closed session is needed is when the town is considering purchasing property. They can discuss the matter in closed session in order to protect their bid on the property. However the decision to use any municipal funds cannot be made in closed session; the public should know how the money is always being spent.
So recently we receive a press release from the state agency that has just approved a grant for one of our local governments. Further research into corresponding project reveals that it is contingent upon another sizable grant as well as matching funds from that government. Funny how that town had never to this point mentioned this project in their board meetings, despite having given approval for these grant applications.
So then the town announced support of the second grant recently, and suddenly the dollar amounts involved in the project were different (only four days later). The property owner was now asking for less than before, therefore the second grant would be for significantly less, and now the entire project could be funded without the town providing additional funds. Funny how that works.
This park project that should now be funded, should benefit the community. Thus the dilemma is: if a governing body conspires to do something away from the public eye, is it justified if the end result is beneficial? Who decided if the ultimate goal was beneficial or not?
I'm reminded of a similar ethics argument existing in the movie Gone Baby Gone. Should one who is charged with upholding the law, knowingly break the law to do what they think is right?
I don't tend to like politics, but seeing as I am technically the government reporter at this newspaper at which I work, I figure it was only a matter of time before I started rolling around in these sorts of issues. I can't promise I won't blog about politics in the future, but I sure hope my next political-themed rant is a long way off.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
they're digging in the wrong place
How could I ever have doubted them? My anticipation level for the fourth (and long overdue) installment of the Indiana Jones franchise has risen and fallen like the stock market. There was the countless rewrites with several big name, proven screenwriters taking there shot at Indy 4, and being shot down by Lucas in particular. How could he turn away Oscar nominees like M. Night and Darabont. Has he not seen the Sixth Sense or Shawshank? Darabont was a writer for the Young Indiana Jones Chronicles, but noooooo. So they settled finally on David "Spidey" Koepp (shiver)
Then there was the issue about the principals, namely Harrison "I don't care if I'm sixty-something I'm still going to wear an earring" Ford and Jones Senior himself the now-retired Sean Connery. Connery single-handedly saved the franchise in 1989 in Last Crusade, despite Spielberg moll Kate Capshaw's best efforts in Temple of Doom as the worst female action lead ever. But the news that he would not return for this summer's blockbuster, put the Jones crew on shaky ground. And could Ford, who has been without a hit since Air Force One, still don the fedora and crack the whip well enough?
But now for the three bits of good news I heard prior to actually watching the film. They cast Shia LaBeouf as Indiana the Third, the return of Marion Ravenwood, and the movie features aliens. At least the first and last of the these bits of news were met with some trepidation (some it my own).
Shia, lets face it, is everywhere these days. He apparently can't turn down any blockbuster script he's offered, and really why should he. An Emmy-winning child actor, he broke into the business in 2003 with a decent lead turn in a children's movie success Holes, took supporting roles in summer blockbusters for the next three years in hits (and misses) like I Robot, Constantine, and Charlie's Angels Full Throttle, and staked himself to some indie cred with an impressive performance in 2006 Sundance sensation A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints.
Then 2007 became the year of Shia as he carried a Hitchcock remake to March success, then became the envy of every red-blooded malehttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif in America as he became friends with Optimus Prime, and locked lips with Megan Fox in Transformers. Many people I think viewed his casting in Jones 4 to be a cheap ploy towards a younger audience, but I'm inclined to believe otherwise. I think this kid can act.
Then was the return of Karen Allen. Marion Ravenwood is one of the key points to my argument that Raiders of the Lost Ark is one of the greatest movies ever made. She was as balanced as a female character could be while still occupying that shoe-horned role of damsel in distress. She runs a bar, can drink any man under the table, and is very handy in a fight. Yet she goes gooey in Jones' hands, and becomes the girl that needs rescuing. I heard an inkling that Willie Scott would also cross paths with Indy in this film, but thank god someone put a kibosh on that. In fact, in the film when Marion and Indy fight, he notes that no woman he has been with since her had measured up. This was the ultimate slap in the face to Temple of Doom in my eyes, which of course is well-deserved. Crusade escapes harm from this though as Dr. Schneider turned out to be a villain.
And then of course there is the presence of aliens within the movies plot. My first thought was NO EFFING WAY. Indiana Jones deals with Mysticism, Nazi's, impossible-to-please parents. But then I realized that paring I should have considered was that this was Steve Spielberg yet again tackling alien encounters. As far as movies about aliens go, the man has absolutely knocked it out the park on two outta three tries, and according to Meatloaf "that ain't bad." (Plus I can ignore WOTW due to my hatred of Tom Cruise and the fact that its a remake)
My Cruise-loathing aside...this movie had me at hello. They opened with the original Paramount logo screen that dissolves into the movie's opening shot...just like each of the previous Jones movie's have done. The opening scene blares Elvis's Hound Dog over joyriding teens entrenching the movie in the 50's, and of course toys with its viewers with the reveal of your hero as he's pulled from the trunk of the car, first with the appearance of "The Hat," then the silhouette, and then of course Jones' annoyed snarl. As I viewed Ford at that moment I was drawn back to one of Jones' most memorable lines from the original film: "Its not the years honey, its the mileage." This would become this films mantra, as they fought every instinct along the way to modernize this film and made it just like the Jones movies of old.
Cate Blanchett does of course brilliant work as KGB psychic Irina Spalko, but I felt her casting was a bit wrong. I think that character would have been better suited to have been played by someone less high profile. Substituting the KGB as Jones' foil for the Nazis worked very well however.
But mainly this movie works because of homage and tradition. The introduction of LaBeouf's Mutt Williams is so steeped in movie lore its ridiculous. He appears on a motorcycle costumed almost to a T, just like Marlon Brando in A Wild One. Throw in a dash of Rebel Without a Cause, and stir in a pinch of the Outsiders, and voila there's Mutt. There was the Wilhelm scream featured for the umpteenth time in the library. There was even a rare homage reversal of sorts. The scene which features swarms of ginormous ants seemed to be taken directly from the man-eating scarabs from The Mummy...which I always so as a poor mans Indiana Jones movie anyway. And of course you can't have Harrison Ford ever deliver the line, "I have a bad feeling about this," without humming the Star Wars theme.
But the real homages are to the previous Jones movies. There's the blink-and-you'll-miss-it reappearance of the Ark of the Covenant in the opening hangar scene, and the return of the redline traveling via-map movie device. But I broke into a broad grin, when Jones reflected in his study on the photographs of Henry Jones Jr. and Marcus Brody. Both important cogs in the previous film they were justly acknowledged and remembered. The only person missing was John Rhys Davies's Salah, who I would like to have seen if only for a moment.
The movie worked, because it was an Indiana Jones movie through and through. Jones punched drivers out of vehicles to take the wheel himself. He was constantly kidnapped and forced to lead his enemy to their common goal (because they couldn't do it without him). He saw everything as a riddle, and of course solved them all. And he saw the bigger picture. While all those around him sought treasure and power, Jones, the perennially archaeologist sought to prove the legends he grew up believing, For him it was always about the hunt, and not the prize.
And of course the movie closes on a really well done scene. The wind blows the fedora at Shia's feet, and he picks it up to put it on his own head, only to have it snatched by its rightful owner. The scene encapsulates the film so well. Ford, Spielberg, and Lucas are deftly saying, "We've still got it, and this ain't the end for the ole Jones boys." These fellas are going to clean up with this film, and damn it they deserve it.
Then there was the issue about the principals, namely Harrison "I don't care if I'm sixty-something I'm still going to wear an earring" Ford and Jones Senior himself the now-retired Sean Connery. Connery single-handedly saved the franchise in 1989 in Last Crusade, despite Spielberg moll Kate Capshaw's best efforts in Temple of Doom as the worst female action lead ever. But the news that he would not return for this summer's blockbuster, put the Jones crew on shaky ground. And could Ford, who has been without a hit since Air Force One, still don the fedora and crack the whip well enough?
But now for the three bits of good news I heard prior to actually watching the film. They cast Shia LaBeouf as Indiana the Third, the return of Marion Ravenwood, and the movie features aliens. At least the first and last of the these bits of news were met with some trepidation (some it my own).
Shia, lets face it, is everywhere these days. He apparently can't turn down any blockbuster script he's offered, and really why should he. An Emmy-winning child actor, he broke into the business in 2003 with a decent lead turn in a children's movie success Holes, took supporting roles in summer blockbusters for the next three years in hits (and misses) like I Robot, Constantine, and Charlie's Angels Full Throttle, and staked himself to some indie cred with an impressive performance in 2006 Sundance sensation A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints.
Then 2007 became the year of Shia as he carried a Hitchcock remake to March success, then became the envy of every red-blooded malehttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif in America as he became friends with Optimus Prime, and locked lips with Megan Fox in Transformers. Many people I think viewed his casting in Jones 4 to be a cheap ploy towards a younger audience, but I'm inclined to believe otherwise. I think this kid can act.
Then was the return of Karen Allen. Marion Ravenwood is one of the key points to my argument that Raiders of the Lost Ark is one of the greatest movies ever made. She was as balanced as a female character could be while still occupying that shoe-horned role of damsel in distress. She runs a bar, can drink any man under the table, and is very handy in a fight. Yet she goes gooey in Jones' hands, and becomes the girl that needs rescuing. I heard an inkling that Willie Scott would also cross paths with Indy in this film, but thank god someone put a kibosh on that. In fact, in the film when Marion and Indy fight, he notes that no woman he has been with since her had measured up. This was the ultimate slap in the face to Temple of Doom in my eyes, which of course is well-deserved. Crusade escapes harm from this though as Dr. Schneider turned out to be a villain.
And then of course there is the presence of aliens within the movies plot. My first thought was NO EFFING WAY. Indiana Jones deals with Mysticism, Nazi's, impossible-to-please parents. But then I realized that paring I should have considered was that this was Steve Spielberg yet again tackling alien encounters. As far as movies about aliens go, the man has absolutely knocked it out the park on two outta three tries, and according to Meatloaf "that ain't bad." (Plus I can ignore WOTW due to my hatred of Tom Cruise and the fact that its a remake)
My Cruise-loathing aside...this movie had me at hello. They opened with the original Paramount logo screen that dissolves into the movie's opening shot...just like each of the previous Jones movie's have done. The opening scene blares Elvis's Hound Dog over joyriding teens entrenching the movie in the 50's, and of course toys with its viewers with the reveal of your hero as he's pulled from the trunk of the car, first with the appearance of "The Hat," then the silhouette, and then of course Jones' annoyed snarl. As I viewed Ford at that moment I was drawn back to one of Jones' most memorable lines from the original film: "Its not the years honey, its the mileage." This would become this films mantra, as they fought every instinct along the way to modernize this film and made it just like the Jones movies of old.
Cate Blanchett does of course brilliant work as KGB psychic Irina Spalko, but I felt her casting was a bit wrong. I think that character would have been better suited to have been played by someone less high profile. Substituting the KGB as Jones' foil for the Nazis worked very well however.
But mainly this movie works because of homage and tradition. The introduction of LaBeouf's Mutt Williams is so steeped in movie lore its ridiculous. He appears on a motorcycle costumed almost to a T, just like Marlon Brando in A Wild One. Throw in a dash of Rebel Without a Cause, and stir in a pinch of the Outsiders, and voila there's Mutt. There was the Wilhelm scream featured for the umpteenth time in the library. There was even a rare homage reversal of sorts. The scene which features swarms of ginormous ants seemed to be taken directly from the man-eating scarabs from The Mummy...which I always so as a poor mans Indiana Jones movie anyway. And of course you can't have Harrison Ford ever deliver the line, "I have a bad feeling about this," without humming the Star Wars theme.
But the real homages are to the previous Jones movies. There's the blink-and-you'll-miss-it reappearance of the Ark of the Covenant in the opening hangar scene, and the return of the redline traveling via-map movie device. But I broke into a broad grin, when Jones reflected in his study on the photographs of Henry Jones Jr. and Marcus Brody. Both important cogs in the previous film they were justly acknowledged and remembered. The only person missing was John Rhys Davies's Salah, who I would like to have seen if only for a moment.
The movie worked, because it was an Indiana Jones movie through and through. Jones punched drivers out of vehicles to take the wheel himself. He was constantly kidnapped and forced to lead his enemy to their common goal (because they couldn't do it without him). He saw everything as a riddle, and of course solved them all. And he saw the bigger picture. While all those around him sought treasure and power, Jones, the perennially archaeologist sought to prove the legends he grew up believing, For him it was always about the hunt, and not the prize.
And of course the movie closes on a really well done scene. The wind blows the fedora at Shia's feet, and he picks it up to put it on his own head, only to have it snatched by its rightful owner. The scene encapsulates the film so well. Ford, Spielberg, and Lucas are deftly saying, "We've still got it, and this ain't the end for the ole Jones boys." These fellas are going to clean up with this film, and damn it they deserve it.
Monday, May 26, 2008
I love the 90's
So I feel like I'm channeling Beck these days...Vintage Beck circa '94. The first song off the Mellow Gold album kinda encapsulates what I'm feeling right now.
And this doesn't relate to our family's cat Tick dying on Friday night. Tick had been in our family for 17 years, but that number can be misleading when referring to our emotional connection to this cat. Tick never took very well to house training so she quickly became the black sheep of our stable of animals. Losing Tick hurts a little bit, but not a great deal. Thank you to y'all who have sent your online condolences. I appreciate it. Sadly though it is a whole other ball of wax that has got me buried in my web of neuroses at the moment.
In only a few words, I had something I wanted at arms reach, and I apparently did everything in my power to let it slip through my fingers. I'm left with this horrible aftertaste in my mouth, because I really don't know what in god's name I did wrong.
I shouldn't be surprised. I've spent most of my life hiding from this sort of disappointment, by never putting myself out there. So I finally decided I would take that plunge, and I got WAY ahead of myself. And to say I crashed and burned would be putting it lightly.
Maybe good things aren't meant for me at this point in time. That doesn't mean I have to stop hoping for them, but my cynical nature will certainly do everything in its power to keep that from happening.
I guess the bright side would be I gained two friends out of the whole situation. I hope that benefit can help me stay positive about it all. This blog will undoubtedly serve as my closure for the whole mess (and it seems that will be the only way I will get it.
Tomorrow is a new day. We'll see what she brings.
And this doesn't relate to our family's cat Tick dying on Friday night. Tick had been in our family for 17 years, but that number can be misleading when referring to our emotional connection to this cat. Tick never took very well to house training so she quickly became the black sheep of our stable of animals. Losing Tick hurts a little bit, but not a great deal. Thank you to y'all who have sent your online condolences. I appreciate it. Sadly though it is a whole other ball of wax that has got me buried in my web of neuroses at the moment.
In only a few words, I had something I wanted at arms reach, and I apparently did everything in my power to let it slip through my fingers. I'm left with this horrible aftertaste in my mouth, because I really don't know what in god's name I did wrong.
I shouldn't be surprised. I've spent most of my life hiding from this sort of disappointment, by never putting myself out there. So I finally decided I would take that plunge, and I got WAY ahead of myself. And to say I crashed and burned would be putting it lightly.
Maybe good things aren't meant for me at this point in time. That doesn't mean I have to stop hoping for them, but my cynical nature will certainly do everything in its power to keep that from happening.
I guess the bright side would be I gained two friends out of the whole situation. I hope that benefit can help me stay positive about it all. This blog will undoubtedly serve as my closure for the whole mess (and it seems that will be the only way I will get it.
Tomorrow is a new day. We'll see what she brings.
Monday, May 19, 2008
game called on account of capitalism
Seeing as the though I still keep abreast of the goings on in the poker community (despite eschewing it these last several months for a menial newspaper job) I feel compelled to comment on the most recent dramabomb dropped by Harrahs Entertainment and ESPN. Apparently this year at the World Series of Poker Main Event, once the final table of nine is determined (which should happen around mid-July), play will stop, and those nine will be brought back in early November to play out the remainder of the world's biggest poker tournament at an "almost-live broadcast."
I had heard whispers of this development during my intermittent poker forum surfing over the course of the last month, but I summarily dismissed the idea as too radical, even for the money-hungry exec's in charge. Even those who supported the idea from the beginning never believed in a million years that the powers that be would have the sac to make this radical change. We shouldn't really be surprised though.
The only two years I've had the opportunity to get an inside look at the vaulted World Series of Poker (as a member of the much maligned "poker media;" not only the lowest of the low, but I worked for Card Player Media; which according to many of the smaller fish as Public Enemy #1) it was run entirely at the Rio, completely under the Harrah's Entertainment banner. I don't know a WSOP w/o the huge gaudy sponsors. What did one do when their weren't nubile young women in Milwaukee's Best Light gear, roaming around trying to give you free (and worthless) poker chips? Was the all-in moment less exciting when it wasn't the Degree All-In moment.
What I'm getting at is simply, what was the outcry when this poker event became ridiculously commercialized at the hand of NASCAR guru Jeffery Pollack, WSOP commish for the last three years?
Wow....as I turn the idea over in my head more....it actually makes sense. Yikes.
---
Since the invention of the lipstick pocket cam, the poker boom has enjoyed a huge rollercoaster ride. The best possible scenario happened in 2003. An unknown internet player, outlasted the field of 839 entrants to take down the $3 million 1st prize. He busted up pro after pro, and found the good fortune to outlast a truly shark-invested final table. But really it was all about his name baby. And as Mike "The Mouth" Matusow would say every day at the WSOP '07 the pros mantra became:
"God bless Chris Moneymaker"
He turned a $40 satellite into about $1.5 million, or at least thats what ESPN wanted you to believe The endless ESPN reruns, neglect to mention how he was so confident he would get smoked that he nearly sold off his entry after he won, only to have someone buy up 50% of his action. (Raymer had backers in 2004 as well. Strange how in 2005, the winner plopped down the full $10k entry, but the bigger story seemed to be runner-up Steve Dannenman, who almost gets less time on screen than his "business partner" who gets half his winnings.)
The win for Moneymaker itself was a blessing and a curse. He scored a huge sponsorship deal from Pokerstars, but also had his marriage collapse. All involved with poker could care less. The Maine Event swelled to huge proportions over the next three years. In 2006, Jamie Gold won four times what Moneymaker did (although his money-appropriate name only has half the media shine) besting over 8,000 players. They were predicting over 10,000 for 2007, but then karma slapped the poker community with a nasty one-two combo.
Gold was taken to court when he balked at having to fork over half his winnings to a man who he promised 50% of his action in exchange for that guy finding a couple of "celebrity's (see also.. two-thirds of the dynamo that headlined the critically acclaimed Without a Paddle) to wear the logo of Gold's backing poker site. Now the string of three charismatic main-event-champion-poker ambassadors was gone (Only one of the those last three was really perfect; Moneymaker has very few results to back up his win and "Salty Joe" Hachem was great at the marketing, but is a Mr. Hyde at the tables; he's downright nasty, only coming second to Hellmuth in the whining category)
And to kick the poker community while they're down, The UIGEA made it near impossible for poker players to deposit money on poker sites, shutting down the main resource for Joe-Schmo to enter the tournament.
--
So now the execs need a new way to market their television coverage. And by golly they've found it.
So when play is halted at the WSOP this year, each of the final 9 players will be awarded ninth place money. The remaining prize money will be placed in an interest-bearing account, which will simply add to the remaining prizepool.
The final table-ists will also now have months to plan their strategy for the big dance. This will include players paying for coaching, and discussing their opponent's play ad nauseam.
This means better play. This means I might actually know something about the final tablists, which means I can give a hoot if one of them wins.
Editor's note: This maybe the last poker related tidbit I post for a while...the end of bar league poker was none too kind to me. A freeroll for a TV is a daunting task, but I thought I had a better chance of winning then most. However, I saw my solid play wasted when I risked my tournament life for the first time when we were 4-handed, only to be torn a new one by the poker gods who decided the that the a guy willing to risk 90 percent of his chips on a flush draw should be rewarded. Nevermind that I had flopped a set and was 65 percent to win when the money went in. Oh well, thats poker.
I had heard whispers of this development during my intermittent poker forum surfing over the course of the last month, but I summarily dismissed the idea as too radical, even for the money-hungry exec's in charge. Even those who supported the idea from the beginning never believed in a million years that the powers that be would have the sac to make this radical change. We shouldn't really be surprised though.
The only two years I've had the opportunity to get an inside look at the vaulted World Series of Poker (as a member of the much maligned "poker media;" not only the lowest of the low, but I worked for Card Player Media; which according to many of the smaller fish as Public Enemy #1) it was run entirely at the Rio, completely under the Harrah's Entertainment banner. I don't know a WSOP w/o the huge gaudy sponsors. What did one do when their weren't nubile young women in Milwaukee's Best Light gear, roaming around trying to give you free (and worthless) poker chips? Was the all-in moment less exciting when it wasn't the Degree All-In moment.
What I'm getting at is simply, what was the outcry when this poker event became ridiculously commercialized at the hand of NASCAR guru Jeffery Pollack, WSOP commish for the last three years?
Wow....as I turn the idea over in my head more....it actually makes sense. Yikes.
---
Since the invention of the lipstick pocket cam, the poker boom has enjoyed a huge rollercoaster ride. The best possible scenario happened in 2003. An unknown internet player, outlasted the field of 839 entrants to take down the $3 million 1st prize. He busted up pro after pro, and found the good fortune to outlast a truly shark-invested final table. But really it was all about his name baby. And as Mike "The Mouth" Matusow would say every day at the WSOP '07 the pros mantra became:
"God bless Chris Moneymaker"
He turned a $40 satellite into about $1.5 million, or at least thats what ESPN wanted you to believe The endless ESPN reruns, neglect to mention how he was so confident he would get smoked that he nearly sold off his entry after he won, only to have someone buy up 50% of his action. (Raymer had backers in 2004 as well. Strange how in 2005, the winner plopped down the full $10k entry, but the bigger story seemed to be runner-up Steve Dannenman, who almost gets less time on screen than his "business partner" who gets half his winnings.)
The win for Moneymaker itself was a blessing and a curse. He scored a huge sponsorship deal from Pokerstars, but also had his marriage collapse. All involved with poker could care less. The Maine Event swelled to huge proportions over the next three years. In 2006, Jamie Gold won four times what Moneymaker did (although his money-appropriate name only has half the media shine) besting over 8,000 players. They were predicting over 10,000 for 2007, but then karma slapped the poker community with a nasty one-two combo.
Gold was taken to court when he balked at having to fork over half his winnings to a man who he promised 50% of his action in exchange for that guy finding a couple of "celebrity's (see also.. two-thirds of the dynamo that headlined the critically acclaimed Without a Paddle) to wear the logo of Gold's backing poker site. Now the string of three charismatic main-event-champion-poker ambassadors was gone (Only one of the those last three was really perfect; Moneymaker has very few results to back up his win and "Salty Joe" Hachem was great at the marketing, but is a Mr. Hyde at the tables; he's downright nasty, only coming second to Hellmuth in the whining category)
And to kick the poker community while they're down, The UIGEA made it near impossible for poker players to deposit money on poker sites, shutting down the main resource for Joe-Schmo to enter the tournament.
--
So now the execs need a new way to market their television coverage. And by golly they've found it.
So when play is halted at the WSOP this year, each of the final 9 players will be awarded ninth place money. The remaining prize money will be placed in an interest-bearing account, which will simply add to the remaining prizepool.
The final table-ists will also now have months to plan their strategy for the big dance. This will include players paying for coaching, and discussing their opponent's play ad nauseam.
This means better play. This means I might actually know something about the final tablists, which means I can give a hoot if one of them wins.
Editor's note: This maybe the last poker related tidbit I post for a while...the end of bar league poker was none too kind to me. A freeroll for a TV is a daunting task, but I thought I had a better chance of winning then most. However, I saw my solid play wasted when I risked my tournament life for the first time when we were 4-handed, only to be torn a new one by the poker gods who decided the that the a guy willing to risk 90 percent of his chips on a flush draw should be rewarded. Nevermind that I had flopped a set and was 65 percent to win when the money went in. Oh well, thats poker.
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