Mean Gene

Whaddya Mean He Was JOKING?

I received a comment today from someone who told me that David Sklansky's whole "women crave sex with men good at math" post was just a joke. I didn't keep reading the 2+2 thread it appeared on, and apparently after a few hundred people commented on the shaky state of his sanity Sklansky wrote that it was a joke and thought it was obvious to everyone that he was joking.

Did anyone else think he was joking? Is David Sklansky a standup comedian now? More to the point, you mean to tell me I spent like 3 nights writing up a screed that is now pretty much pointless? I was making jokes about a joke? This is not a good thing. Writing that ridiculously long post was what convinced me that I needed to step away from the tables and do more writing. Was I deluding myself? Is this, and everything else in my life, based merely on a series of lies, misunderstanding, and outright deceptions?

Probably. Anyway, this is my final word on this particular subject: Shit.

My beach volleyball team won its first match in 2 years last night. Nothing like playing VB and drinking until 11PM or so. This is a poker blog, so I will make a quick poker reference to justify myself--the girl playing on the other team (co-ed league) bore rather a resemblence to Mimi Rodgers, one of the top poker playing celebrities out there.

Volleyball, when played well, is a thrilling combination of power, grace, and guile. Volleyball, when played poorly, is a friggin' horror show. After we finished up these 8 people got on one of the courts, and a motley crew they were. There were all in their forties or beyond, some wearing oversized sweats (in sand?), one guy wearing dark swim trunks and white wristbands, which to my mind made him look like one of the first cuts from a Chippendales tryout.

They were bloody awful. Slapping at the ball, smacking it over the net on the first hit over and over again, and pointlessly diving for balls fifteen feet out of reach. I was enjoying a beer with my friend Rick, and after watching for a few minutes he turned to me and said, "Uh, is it me, or..."

"Yes, they suck," I said.

I've never seen them up at the place where we play before, and they were still going at it when I left at 11PM. The hell were they doing there close to midnight on a Wednesday? 'Tis a mystery I have no interest in pursuing.

No online poker tonight or tomorrow, as I'm going up to the lake again for another poker binge. We'll have a nice group, six or seven players. I can't drink too much Friday night, as Rick and I are driving back Saturday afternoon to play in our league playoffs before returning that evening. It's just a whirlwind life I lead.

Of course a mammoth post will follow this weekend. I think I'm gonna take notes during the game this time, I'm always forgetting what the hell happened. It might be the beer, it might. And then of course I'll be present for the Monty Memorial, hopefully with the poker gods firmly in my corner. It's gonna be epic.

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