As a result of my duties as a Technology editor at Suicide Girls, a fiercely proud representative of Team PokerStars, and writing for The Onion AV Club and writing for CardSquad, I find myself without a whole lot of free time right now. When I do find some free time, I’d rather spend it with my family than with The Interets, and that means less time blogging.

I thought about that, as I walked Ferris Berris and Riley Monster this afternoon: I’ve had such a fabulous time blogging about whatever here in Exile, I don’t want to let regular posts fall down to once or twice a week. It’s easy to fall into this trap where I think everything I write here has to be so fucking important and meaningful . . .  I am always on the verge of taking myself a little too seriously, and that’s just not what this is all about.

To keep perspective, and to keep blogging fun, I’m going to see how putting up whatever the hell I feel like works out for me, starting with this, which I found earlier today at boingboing:

Replica of Charlie Brown’s Xmas tree


Urban Outfitters is selling a replica of the "pathetic" Xmas tree Charlie Brown took home in A Charlie Brown Christmas:

The tree is an exact replica of the tree from the famous cartoon, made
of wire branches and plastic needles with a criss cross wooden base.
The bendable branches allow you to make it look just how you want,
super pathetic or just kind of pathetic. The tree comes with one red
Christmas ball ornament.

 

Jason Kirk, a blogger with whom I sometimes play cards, wrote an introspective post where he mused,

"I get distracted by what I’ve somehow come to think I ought to be instead of who I already am. I let others’ ideas, and ideas fed to me by a part of myself that’s
dedicated to being counter-productive, get in my way. When I do that I
lose focus of what’s important in my life."

That struck a chord with me, because I could have written those words myself around the time I wrote the blogs that became Just a Geek. I’ve grown a lot since those days, and I’m happier and more secure than I’ve ever been (not counting a time when I was too immature to know better.) Why is it, do you think, that it feels like a luxury to get to this place, rather than a natural and inevitable part of this life?

Friday night, Anne was on the phone with one of her friends, and I heard her say, ". . . my husband."

I love that. I love it that I’m her husband, and I love it that tomorrow, I will celebrate six years of being married to my best friend in the whole universe.

Man, I’m really having a great time in the WWdN Friday tourneys at PokerStars. The average field is about 120 players, and each week we’ve seen some fantastic play, some lucky play, some donkey play, and even some plays that haven’t come from me. 🙂

The Donegal Invitational this week was the best one, yet, and I’m not just saying that because I finished 14th out of 127 players.

Okay, maybe I am. But the point is, it was a lot of fun, and my friend Alan (aka metsfan, aka penner42) from geekandproud.net beat out the blogfather himself to win the whole damn thing.

One of the best hands for me happened early on, when I got a pair of queens. I was the first player to act on the hand, so I made a raise that would discourage drawing hands, but encourage people with strong over cards (like ace-king, ace-jack, etc) or weaker pairs (like nines or tens) call me. A hand like queens is pretty strong before the flop, but it’s a very vulnerable hand if you’ve got to play it against a bunch of opponents, and it’s pretty much dead to aces or kings (duh).

A player who was in middle position called, and the button (the player who is the nominal dealer, and who can act last on every hand after the flop) also called. The flop was queen-something-ten. BINGO! This is a BEAUTIFUL flop for me, because there were no straights or flushes possible, and I would almost certainly get action from players with ace-queen, ace-ten, or a pair of tens. In fact, I was really hoping for someone to have a pair of tens, because I’d have a better set and almost certainly take all their chips.

I was the first player to act, and with a strong hand like this, I’d normally check. But I made what Dan Harrington calls a continuation bet which says, "Okay, I had a stong hand before the flop, and I still like it." This is a great bluffing tool for times when I raise with a pair of fives, get a caller, and an ace hits the flop. If I make a continuation bet, it’s very likely that a weaker ace (like ace-six, for example) or a pair better than mine (like jacks) will fold to my bet. I knew that I’d have to show this hand, and I wanted to set up for later that my continuation bets were real. Note that it would also be perfectly appropriate to check and raise with this hand, which would also announce to the table that you’re not afraid to check a strong hand, and possibly buy you free cards later on when you need them; it’s sort of up to player’s individual style, and the texture of the other players’ styles to make the best choice.

So I made my continuation bet of about 1/2 the pot. The first caller immediately raised me for half of his stack, and the button folded. I thought for a second about how to get all his chips: would it be best to just call, and put him all-in on the turn, or would it be better to force him to decide to play for all his chips now? Again, with an eye toward my image for later in the tournament, when I may have to put my chips at risk without the best hand, I decided to make him play for all his chips. I pushed all-in and he immediately called with a pair of tens. Ding!

Note that this hand illustrates the element of luck in poker: jsmitty399, who had the tens, was entirely correct to call my raise, and must have felt great when he made his set. If I were him, I would have gone broke on that hand, too, because from his perspective, pocket queens is "monsters under the bed." If he hadn’t made his set, he probably would have gotten away from the hand on my continuation bet. I don’t know what the button had, but my guess is small suited connectors (like 67 or 89) or a suited ace that missed the flop, and I doubt I would have gotten action from that hand either. Also, I could just as easily have had AQ and been way behind. Hell, if I had aces or kings I would have been way behind. So jsmitty399 got very unlucky at the same time I got very lucky. That doesn’t make us very good or very bad poker players . . . it just makes us poker players.

Here’s how I reported the action in my live blog:

I got queens UTG, so I raised it, got calls from LP and the button. The
flop came Q-x-T, I made a continuation bet, and LP raised me for half
his stack. I came back all-in, and he called me with TT. The button
folded, and I busted jsmitty399 with set-over-set. I’ve got 3525 now,
and I’m third in chips!

I applied lessons learned from  Harrington on Hold’Em (volumes one and two), Tournament Poker for Advanced Players by Sklansky and Malmuth, and Winning Low Limit Hold’Em by Lee Jones in that hand. If you’re interested in improving your game, I suggest checking them out.

And, as always, I hope to see lots of WWdN:iX readers in future Friday games!

"Death is that state where one lives only in the memory of others,
which is why it is not an end. No goodbyes–just good memories."
    – Tasha Yar

I knew it was coming, but that didn’t blunt the sadness I felt when I learned yesterday that Michael Piller died. I didn’t know Michael very well — a consequence of my age when we worked together, and one of the very few lingering regrets I have about Star Trek — but I had (and have) tremendous respect for him, and I believe that he is more responsible than anyone else for Next Generation transforming itself into the amazing show it became in season four.

I last saw Michael at a Star Trek convention in Pasadena a couple of years ago. He was there to talk about Dead Zone, and I was there to read from my upcoming book, Dancing Barefoot. I had just finished watching the fourth season of TNG on DVD.

I felt the usual Prove To Everyone shame, but I walked over to him anyway. We spoke for a bit, and I finally said what I needed to say.

"I never understood how important you were to the show," I said, "until I watched it change under your leadership."

A group of kids dressed in Buffy costumes sped down the hallway, swarmed around us, and ran into the main hall, where one of their idols was about to speak.

"So I wanted to say ‘thank you’ now, because before, I was — well, I just didn’t know how."

He smiled and took my hand. "Thank you, Wil," he said.

"Good luck with Dead Zone," I said. "I hear it’s going to be fantastic."

He drew a deep breath. "We’ll see . . ." he said.

And that was it. We chatted for another minute or so, and went our separate ways.

I hardly knew Michael, but everyone who did loved him. As far as I can tell, he was
one of the very few genuinely good people who worked in the industry.

Goodbye, Michael, and thank you.