PEACHFRONT SPEAKS

Recent entries july 4, 2018 - 2018-07-04 the triangle continues of courtney, boobear, & nyota - 2018-07-03 Cookie so cute telling, "Hello" to sparrows - 2018-07-01 lovebirb in love - 2018-06-30 wren with fluffffff - 2018-06-24 Read my new book, The 10 Best Things You Can Do For Your Bird at Amazon or at many other fine distributors like Barnes & Noble, iTunes, Kobo, and more. By public demand, and after a delay of an embarrassing number of years, I've finally put my notorious essay, Ender and Hitler: Sympathy for the Superman, free on the fabulous internets. A bibliography of my published books and stories. Here's a simple card-counting FAQ to get you up to speed on the basics. Here's the true story of the notorious DD' blackjack team, told for the first time on the fabulous internets. No other team went from a starting investor's bankroll of zero to winning millions of dollars. A Sadean take on Asimov's classic Three Laws of Robotics can be found in Roger Williams' NOW REVIEWED ON SLASHDOT!!! The Metamorphosis of Prime Intellect. Adult readers only please -- explicit sex and violence. For updates on the "Dead Tree Project" and other topics, you may visit the official fan site, Passages in the Void.. My Bird Lists -- My Louisiana State Life List, My Yard List and, tah dah, My World Life List. HEY! What happened to the Peachfront Conure Files? The world's only OFFICIAL Peachfront Conure site now features free peachfront conure coverage, including a magazine length Intro to Conures previously published in American Cage-Bird Magazine, now free on the web. I offer the best free Peachfront Conure information on the internet. If you have great Peachfront Conure info, stories, or photos to share, contact me so I can publicize your pet, your breeding success, your great photograph, etc. on my site. Thanks.

the idiotic thoughts of a limit hold em player stuck in a no limit world 2009-12-19 - 7:42 p.m. So before I put butt in seat at this table I've only played no limit for a total of about 1-1/2 hours, so I'm totally the best player in this game (and modest too) except maybe for one young guy who seems to know something. But other than him, I'm either totally the best player in this game, or I am clue-free about what's going on here.1 For some reason, the other players think I'm a total spewtard though. They've started to call me down, so I guess I'm going to have to wait around for real hands now. Hey!!!! I have two black Kings in early position. That's a real hand. Hell, that's a monster if you ask me. Time for a good old-fashioned limp re-raise. Wait. It's 1/2 no limit. I can't totally limp with $2 and make it believable. I've never made a $2 call pre-flop at this game yet, except once when I was on the button with a buncha limpers giving me odds to my 98 of hearts. (Gotta be a weak game, cuz you NL guys are never supposed to give people odds/free cards to stick around and hit your flush but tee hee and oh well!) How's about, um-kay, I'll make a min-raise of $6. Old white dude makes it $30. OK, cool, old white dude is trying to isolate on the spewtard. Boy is he in for a surprise. Another old white dude calls, because that's just what he does. Over to middle-aged white woman. What is this? I haven't played at a table with so many white people in...well, I never have. I guess this no limit stuff has universal appeal to all makes and models. Whoa, she's raising $75. Phil Gordon says the 4-bet is always aces. And she's a white middle-aged lady. Probably completely incapable of creativity. She's got aces. Oh fuck, come on now, you know she's totally got aces. You know what, I don't even fucking care. I'm not good enough to lay down KK for a measly $69. In fact, this is ridiculous, stop seeing MUBS2 -- there's no law that says she has aces just because she's a middle-aged white lady. You're a middle-aged white lady. Do you have aces? Time. Let me think. Ho-kay. I'm not getting any more money out of the failed isolation attempt, might as well take down what's in the pot right now. Calling station is totally not calling $75, there's a limit even to his credulity. So I know those two guys are out even before the action gets to them. It's me and her. Hmmm. This is the biggest pot we've had since the table opened. I'm not getting bluffed off it. If she does happen to have rockets, so be it. But I need more than "uncreative middle-aged white lady in a grandma Christmas sweater" to conclude that her entire range in this spot is rockets. Sorry, Mr. Gordon, I will ignore your no doubt hard-won advice. All-in. I call "All in" and then I move my chips all in across the line where everyone can see them. Yeah, so I'm all in. Who wants to call my two big black Kings? Because I'm cool and TV and "all in" and you ain't. But now the "isolator" seems genuinely anguished. "This is truly a difficult decision," he says. Suddenly, I realize that he's not Hollywooding. Oh, he's not worried about my -- the spewtard's -- hand, but the other lady in the pot has him truly concerned. He shows the hand to some sweaters who all nod wisely and sympathetically as he finally lays it down. Cold-calling fucktard also agonizes, shows the hand to the dealer, and lays it down. Although as far as we know, he never belonged in the hand to begin with. The lady with aces -- come on, even the guy parking the cars knows she has aces -- calls my all-in, and away we go. You knew it when I said "middle-aged white lady in a grandma Christmas sweater." That's the awful thing about poker. Because you have to make snap decisions based on nothing, you develop all these horrid prejudices. But what do you do? You're right, and I know you're right, and the guy in the parking lot knows we're right. She doesn't turn over the hand right away, until I turn over mine, and then it's just for pity points, because yah, she's totally got aces. So the flop is KQ rag. I have trips. Yay me. I is the winner. The so-called isolator had QQ and would have had trip queens, so by folding him out I lost an opportunity to make more money off him, because he's totally got to put more money in this huge pot with trips. Ho well. I'll have to be satisfied with what's in there. Turn is who cares, river is who cares. So suddenly I have over $500 in front of me and you may think, so what, I'm just getting started, but then I realize, wait. That's like over 250 Big Blinds in this game, and I don't know how to play deep. So it's Sayonara, suckers, I'm out the door. OK, that's what I was thinking plus what I was thinking about what everybody else was thinking. Now here's what they were really thinking. Old white dude: Oh, that spewtard put in a min-raise with $6. Probably trying to get a cheap flop so she can steal it. Like we haven't seen this move about 15 times before in the last 45 minutes. She's not gonna call if I take the lead. I need to get some real hands to call and pay me off so I better not blow them off the pot. I got that hopeless old boy calling station behind me. $30 should work. Hopeless old boy calling station. I got something, better call and see the flop. Middle-aged white woman, holy cow, this is the biggest pot since the table opened. And I'm in position to take it down. Best hand, best position. I should raise. How much? I have no fucking clue. $75 sounds like a lot of money. I'd love to win $75 from somebody. It's $75 Dealer, make it $75. Holy moly, that spewtard who has gone in like 5 times in the 30 minutes I've been at this table is going all in again. It must be some kind of dream. Oh shit. Oh shit. What kinda flop is that for rockets????? The only hand I'm beating is AK. Please let her have AK. She's not waiting for the turn and river to flip over her cards. Mumbling something about how she don't wanna torture me. Well, she's torturing me. What a witch with a B. Pocket kings? How does she call my pre-flop 4 bet with pocket Kings? She's a fish. She never heard of Phil Gordon. And now the kid is telling me, it's OK, if she plays long enough like that, she'll give it all back. Like I need pity from this fucking kid from Atlanta. Anyway, she's racking up. Our beautiful fish is swimming away. Life sucks and then you die. Oh, and a funny from when I first sat down and ordered a diet Coke: Dealer frowns. Ma'am, that napkin can't be on the table. Oh fuck, it's no limit, angle shooting fucktards probably hide chips under their napkin. I grab napkin and just put drink on table. Dealer sighs. Ma'am, that DRINK can't be on the table. Now I'm clue free. WTF? You can see that I've played at the B too long. In Mississippi, they can afford cup holders -- and your fucking drinks NEED to be in the fucking cupholders. The young man playing (briefly) next to me fetched me a cupholder and explained the situation. Oopsy. I told the dealer I was a Bellagio player, thinking she'd know immediately what I meant -- the most famous poker room in the world that can't afford cupholders or small side tables for drinks -- but she was totally clue free. I figured she heard this excuse "every day," but clearly she'd never heard it. For more ridiculous poker plays, check out the index to my silly poker hands by clicking right here. 1Um, probably the second option is the better bet. 2 Monsters Under the Bed back - next All Rights Reserved, Copyright 2002-2017 by Elaine Radford