Tommy Angelo

I’ve had many years when this time of year was the worst time of the year for me. Especially from 1990 to 1997. Those were the first seven years of my poker-playing career. I went broke in December every year. Around 1993, I noticed the pattern, vowing to be careful when the trees went bare. But it didn’t matter. Winter would come, and I’d run bad for a day or two, and that would make me play bad for a week or two, and ugh, I’d get despondent, desensitized, depressed. I’d keep playing, and I’d keep losing, and I’d beat myself up for playing bad, and I’d fall into a funk that made no sense and had no hope.

Just when it couldn’t get any worse, it did. On came the pressure. The pressure to buy presents for my family. I was supposed to be generous. And I really wanted to. But I had no money. I was supposed to have on a happy face. But I was fucking miserable. Can’t you just leave me alone? I don’t want to play that game now. Please, not now. Don’t march me through that paltry patronizing parade of pomp and presents again. And don’t even tell me I should be grateful. Not again. That was the worst of all. Listening to little speeches about how great it is just to be alive. Go fuck yourself.

Looking back at those woeful holiday seasons from a dozen years later, I think I can see what was really going on. The problem – as it so often is – was the assumptions that ruled my life, my thinking, and my actions. I assumed that Christmas pressure was real. I assumed that my obligations to shop were so important that it was right and proper that my happiness should depend on my ability and willingness to… to what… buy my dad a tie? I assumed that if I bought stuff and wrapped it up, I deserved to be happy. And if I couldn’t, or didn’t, or if I did and I didn’t feel good about it, then that meant I was a pathetic failure and I deserved to be unhappy.

I assumed that my actual worth was somehow related to my financial worth and the subsequent purchasing power it gave me.

I assumed that in order to give, I had to give a thing.

It never occurred to me to question all these bogus assumptions. That’s because I didn’t even know they were there. Do you ever stop and think, “I assume that if I stand in the rain I will get wet?” Of course not. Some assumptions are so imbedded in us that we don’t even think about them. That’s how it was with my assumptions about giving at Christmas. No awareness of them whatsoever. Total blindness. The result was that by putting so much attention on giving things, I was unable to give myself. But of course I couldn’t see that. Like I said, I was blind.

Since then, my vision has improved. The way I see it now is that the most important present I can give is my presence. Whether I’m talking on the phone with someone, or emailing, or in the same room, I just need to show up, completely – as in not be somewhere else, mentally.

This applies to the moment of physical gifting too. When my mother-in-law opens the gift I bought for her, I shouldn’t be worrying about if she’ll like it. When my brother opens the book I chose for him, I shouldn’t be wondering if he’ll read it. When my wife reads out loud the poem I wrote for her, I shouldn’t be spinning around in my head, thinking that she might think it’s stupid, thinking that she might be disappointed when she realizes I didn’t buy her anything, thinking, thinking, thinking. No. I should just relax, and hear the sound of her voice. I should just settle myself, and listen to the meaning she puts into the words. (And be ready to hand her a hanky.)

As it happens, the best gift I can give – full attention – is the least expensive of all.

avatar

Last night, this little band of blowhards led a procession of 100 adults through the nighttime streets of Palo Alto on a “pub crawl.”

The pipers and people came together in this way for the 13th consecutive year to celebrate the birthday of Smokey Charles. Smokey is known about town for his wisdom and generosity.

The party started at Smokey’s house, which is where the picture was taken. It was soon dark, and the other pictures I took of the parade-in-action didn’t come out. We visited seven bars. At each bar, the band went inside, found a corner, and went at it. There were two drummers, not pictured here.

To get from bar to bar, the band led us along the sidewalks in the heart of town while playing, and the adults, pretending to be children, frolicked behind.

My favorite part was when they tuned up. The blowers would line up in front of the band leader (also not pictured here), and one at a time, they would approach him, and as they blew, he would tune their pipes by twisting them and adjusting the length. They did this several times throughout the evening. It reminded me of any tender grooming ritual that any other species might do for one another.

And then, there’s the sound. The droning, ceaseless root note upon which all is built. The high notes that are grasped at but never quite reach full throatedness. The heritage, the culture, the pride that says, “Okay, so it ain’t the prettiest sound ever made, but it’s ours. And if you don’t like it, drink more.”

It was great fun to watch the people watch the parade. There’s nothing quite like a marching column of skirted wheezebags to bring a smile to a face.

Wilbur King lived in Middletown, Ohio. He raised five spectacular daughters. The fifth one, Shannon, was the first love of my life. It was 1980. We were 22. Wilbur scared the shit out of me.

Before I met him on my first trip to the King homestead, all I knew about Wilbur was that he worked in a steel mill, and that he had a bass boat on which he went bass fishing. When we met, I learned two more things. I learned that Wilbur had powerful, constrictor hands. And I learned that he scared the shit out of me. But not because he had rearranged my phalanges. It was nothing more than the way he looked at me, a steely stare. I didn’t understand it until years later, when I realized that to him I was just one more luster wanting to do a daughter.

Shannon’s mom had a really stupid idea. She said to Wilbur, “Why don’t you take Tommy out fishing with you in the morning?”

Fast forward to 6 a.m. the next day. I was awake. This was deeply wrong.

I climbed into Wilbur’s truck and off we went to the lake, just a couple of guys who would each much rather be alone right now. The first thing that happened was that I didn’t say anything, and by doing so, I had set the tone for the morning. Wilbur followed my lead. For the next two hours, he either didn’t have any urges to speak, or he resisted them all.

Okay, that’s not entirely true. When we got to the boat, some sounds did come from Wilbur’s face. “Get on the boat,” I heard him say.

I jumped into the conversation. “Okay,” I said.

Another thing he said was, “Untie that rope.”

“Okay,” I said, trying to sound hearty despite the trembling.

Soon we were in the quietest place I’d ever been, adrift on a sheet of liquid glass. Wilbur was fishing. I was just sitting. I’d probably been in places this quiet before. It’s just that I made too much noise to notice. Not today. I was frozen in terror by the tension of the human silence. If I had spoken then, in Wilbur’s temple, during the heart of his ceremony, I believe the sheer force of the will of Wilbur would have struck me dead.

After a while, he packed up his equipment and he steered the boat to shore. When we were up against the dock, I knew it was time to get off the boat and I did so without even having to be told.

“Here,” Wilbur said, as he tossed me a rope which I then tied to the boat-holding rope-wrap thingie.

“Got it,” I replied, with just a touch of sailor vigor.

When we were back at the house, we went in the side door, which leads you through the kitchen. Mrs. King was standing at the sink. I was right behind Wilbur, so I was able to hear it when he walked by his wife, touched her on the shoulder, leaned into her ear, and said, “I like this one.”

Just moments ago, I took this photo from my room at The Venetian:

Look at the windows on Treasure Island. See the shutters? See the little balcony thingies? Now count the stories. You should come up with something close to 17.

Next let’s look at how many rooms are on a each floor. The building consists of three slabs that meet in the middle. You can see one full wall of one slab in the picture, and you can clearly see that there are 9 windows.

There are two problems here. Treasure Island is a 33-story building, and the slabs are 18 rooms long.

The secret of Treasure Island is that each of those windows that appear to be a single window is actually the windows of four hotel rooms made to look like one. (Bellagio does the same thing.)

The obvious question is: Why? No secret there. It’s The Strip. It was done to make money. Which takes us to the next question: How does this optical illusion generate more profit than the alternative?

You’re on your own on that one. All I promised was a secret. I didn’t say anything about solving mysteries.

Bob & Tom Comedy All-Stars Tour movie download download The Sum of All Fears dvd

Hindsight ipod

Amistad dvd

Small Soldiers psp

Pokémon 3: The Movie dvdrip The Spy Who Loved Me move

Welcome to Woop Woop hd

Mercenary for Justice full movie

All I was doing was driving down the road. I wasn’t looking for meaning. I hadn’t asked for a sign. But I got one anyway…

Just Business buy

• The Secret of NIMH divx download Spiral

Carry on Matron rip

I am familiar with the proper protocol in these situations. When the words appeared before me, I looked for the meaning of life in them.

It’s obvious enough what “ram speed” is. And “cruise speed.” But what is this “hump speed?” And why was this sign revealed to me? Is it meant to answer my questions? Or is it supposed to make me question my answers?

Or maybe it is intended to send me spinning in a speculational spiral, such as… “What is the speed of one humper humping?”

Whatever it is, they should put it somewhere else. I was so distracted that I drove way too fast over a large swell in the road.

Fear of the Dark dvd

Brain Smasher… A Love Story ipod

2012 trailer

The Eightfold Path to Poker Enlightenment (EPTPE) is a poker video series I made with Wayne Lively and Rob Cole. It’s about making your A-game better and playing your A-game more often. Today I launched a web page that contains many words by me about the series, plus all sorts of goodies:

•   The music from the eptpe series (80 mp3s of piano music played by me)
•   Three songs from my 2001 CD, “I’m Running Bad.”
•   All of the songs from my 1980 album, “A Work of Aardvark.”
•   Original drawings from the EPTPE video series
•   Photographs
•   Some favorable posts from the DeucesCracked forums
•   Links to each of the 8 EPTPE episodes at DeucesCracked, where you can see the first two minutes of each episode for free. After that, it’ll cost ya!

Here’s the webpage:

http://tommyangelo.com/the-eightfold-path-to-poker-enlightenment.html

Snake Eyes video

Small Soldiers video

download The Ewok Adventure dvd

Tyrannosaurus Azteca movie download

See ya there!

You’re playing live poker and you just folded before the flop. You’ve got a minute or two, maybe longer, before you get more cards. What to do? What to do? You could watch TV. You could turn the volume up on your headphones. You might order a beverage, or converse with a player. Maybe you’ve got some urgent tweeting to do. Heck you might even just sit there and watch the players play the hand. Whatever you do, it’s okay. You can still recover from it. Just as long as you do this one last thing:

Assume the position.

Imagine you’re in the middle of a big and dramatic headsup pot. On the turn, your opponent bets out. You have him covered. You say, “I’m all in.” And you freeze.

Your opponent pauses. His pause stretches into a delay. The delay elongates into a stall. After a while, the stall extends itself fully and becomes overtly annoying, to everyone, but especially to you, and he keeps poking his eyes at you, then looking at the wall or something, and then he stares at you again, and you look away when he does, and you’re trying to keep still and not give up anything, but you feel yourself squirming around because your body is not in a stable position. It’s weak. It’s out of control.

Have you ever found yourself semi-frozen in a slouchy, undignified posture and been stuck there during the all-in freeze frame? I sure have. Lots of times. And I’ve seen it too. It reminds me of that original Star Trek episode where people are frozen in time in whatever posture they happened to be in. It’s as if saying the words “all in” commits the speaker to a ritualistic stillness ceremony.

So, what to do? How do you insure that you will look strong when you’re being looked over?

Assume the position.

download film No matter what you are doing or thinking between hands, when the dealer starts dealing, stop. Stop, and pretend. Pretend you’re playing that big pot. You make your big all-in raise, and you freeze. Your opponent looks like he is going to take a while. Stop and imagine that moment. Imagine the posture you would want to be in. The one that makes you look good and feel good. The one that says I got no worries or hurries. And then assume that position. If you do this before every hand, you will know you have done your best.Inhabited move buy The Sword in the Stone

Abbott and Costello Meet the Mummy buy

Cabin Boy dvd

Whose fault was it? According to Bob, it was Mary’s fault. But if you ask Mary, she’ll tell you it was Bob’s fault. Joe – (Joe is a big picture kind of guy) – Joe saw the whole thing, and he doesn’t think it was Bob’s fault, or Mary’s fault, because really, the problem started with something nasty that Susie said last week, which was probably the result of the way her mom raised her, so really it was all Susie’s mom’s fault.

But why stop there? Shouldn’t a logical examination of “first blame” always bring us to the same conclusion?

“It’s the universe’s fault!!”

Yes it should, except I’ve got an even better idea.

Hijack psp

When I was growing up, two of the first things they taught me about God was that He is everywhere and you can’t see him. When I was learning physics, two of the first things they taught me about atoms was that they are everywhere and you can’t see them. Atoms are therefore God.

Like God and atoms, the universe is also everywhere. The difference is that the universe is not invisible. For me, this makes it much harder to blame things on the universe, since I have to look at it while I do so. I like the idea of shouting “It’s your fault” at something I can’t see. It appeals to my cowardice. So the universe is out of the running. The choice is God or atoms.

That’s an easy choice for me. Lots of people blame God for things. I’ve never heard of anyone blaming atoms. So I’ll do that.

• Underworld Witches Night video The Contractor divx

I’m now ready. Maybe later today something will happen that makes me want to shake my fist in rage, and there won’t be anyone or anything I can blame for whatever happened, but that won’t stop me…

It’s those goddamn atoms! They fucked me again! Stardust release

Bee Movie movie

Blindness psp

• Half Baked movie download
  Find Me Guilty dvd
  • download The Mask

  Slipstream movie

  Kiss Of The Vampire aka Immortally Yours video
  

  The Parent Trap film
  Lonesome Jim download

The Band from Hell movie download

• Another 48 Hrs. hd

In March 2009, I got a letter from Guillermo Gonzales, editor in chief of Sportivo Magazine, the top hard-copy poker magazine in Italy. Guillermo asked if it would be okay if he translated some of my poker articles to Italian and published them in his magazine. I immediately sent a copy of Guillermo’s email to my huge Italian family and asked, “How do you say ‘HELL YES!’ in Italian?”

Guillermo and I talked.

“How many of my articles do you want to use?”

“Eight,” he said.

“Do you know which ones?”

“No.”

“Would you like me to choose them for you?”

“Hell Yes!!”

So I went through my articles and picked out the ones that have been linked to or referenced the most, and I sent them in.

A few months later, my first issue of Sportivo arrived. I went to the Table of Contents. It was very exciting to see my name there, in the middle of what looked to me like an Italian restaurant menu. The name of my article was Reciprocita: la ragione del profitto nel poker The Lion King ipod , which I knew translated to Reciprocality: The Cause of Profit at Poker

So, ragione must mean cause. This was going to be really fun.

I opened the magazine to my article. The layout was superb. I started reading. I’ve heard a lot of Italian, but I barely speak a word, unless you count things like “pasta” and “That’s amore.” But because I was extremely familiar with the English version of what I was reading, the language center of my brain starting pulling lots of extra blood, with patterns and puzzles coming and going like crazy.

My article in the latest issue of Sportiva was particularly fun to read. It’s like, everything sings in Italian. The name of the article is Folding. The very end goes like this:

And all of a sudden, I can’t lose. I love folding. download Good Dick

Which in Italian, sounds like this:

E d’improvviso, non posso perdere. Amo foldare.

I love Amo foldare.

Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy video

The Bourne Supremacy movie download Comedy Central Roast of Pamela Anderson download Skeleton Crew dvd

The Relief of Belsen psp

Behind the Wall video

download The Adventures of Pluto Nash movie Goal! divx

Leatherheads film

I went to the doctor for a check-up. He said I was perfectly healthy. Well, I knew better.

“C’mon doc,” I said. “No more sugar-coating. Give it to me straight. How much longer have I got?”

He replied, “If you keep taking care of yourself, you’ll most likely be around for another 30 or 40 years or so.”

How depressing. I’m dying. I always suspected I was. Now I knew for sure, from an expert. I walked out of his office, and suddenly, all my priorities shifted. I felt a need to say “I love you” to strangers. I felt a need to suck more life out of life. I felt a need to hurry up, and slow down, at the same time.

I eat approximately 1000 meals per year. Which means, according to my doctor, I only have 30,000 meals to look forward to before I die and my remains are placed in a dropbox and carried away by security to the great casino cage in the sky.

What if I knew that my next supper was my last? Or my next bite? Or my next chew? Would that change the flavor of a tomato? Let’s do some round numbers — 30,000 meals times 50 bites per meal times 10 chews per bite equals 15 million chews. Okay, that does it. My chews are numbered. I can’t be hanging around here. I need to finish up this post and go have breakfast. And when I do, I will re-resolve to pay attention to every last bite as if every bite was the last.

• dwnload avatar movie