I was wrestling for a title for this post for a while, I nearly went for ‘Succeeding at failure’ which probable gets more to the nub of my current concerns, in that I’m doing well at failing in poker.
I joined Black Belt Poker a while back now, the idea being that with the points based system it would encourage me to concentrate on the things a poker player should worry about, IE playing at the correct level, volume and ROI. None of this has really happened, I’ve multiplied my starting role by twelve yet I still spend most of my time playing the $5 and $10, I just enjoy crushing the small stakes rather than struggling in the mid stakes, I know it’s pathetic.
Is it ok to fail to meet your full potential though if the activity still gives you a lot of pleasure? I mean I have posted a story I started on a while ago, I’ve just re-read it for the first time in ages and it fails on so many fundamental writing levels, but the thing of is it that I remember really enjoying writing this. If I take pleasure from something is it ok not to do test yourself to the maximum and always do you r best?
I have started writing some poker fiction for ukpokerinfo (see links below), its very difficult to write poker fiction about today’s players without coming across as a colossal fan boy but maybe that’s’ just what I am!
http://www.ukpokerinfo.co.uk/flip-you-for-it-part-1-3130/
http://www.ukpokerinfo.co.uk/flip-you-for-it-part-2-3161/
THE OFFICE OF JAMES McNAUGHTON
A modern psychiatrist’s office, a traditional couch at the back and big tall book shelf’s. To the forefront are two modern chairs which face each other, James McNaughton and Glenn Drayton sit about two foot apart. There are framed pictures of JM with celebrities around the wall. GD is dressed in fashionable jeans and a tight T-Shirt, JM in a classic blue shirt and casual formal trouser.
James McNaughton: So the football’s going well, I watched the final world cup qualifier, you played very well.
Glenn Drayton; Taa, thanks.
JM: What did it feel like when the final whistle blew and you know your going to play in the world cup finals?
GD: Mainly I felt relieved, I had laid the number of bookings and one more yellow card and I would have lost a ton of money, also we get a tidy bonus for qualifying for the finals.
JM looks a little disappointed at his reply, but recovers quickly.
JM: What about national glory? Surely leading you country to the world cup finals is the pinnacle of any player’s career? Did it bring you no joy at all?
GD: Oh, yeah well of course. Yeah great stuff.
JM: Glenn, it’s important to take time to recognise you personal achievements. I bet Gemma’s looking forward to the trip out to the finals?
GD: I dunno, I suppose. Where not really talking much at the moment, there’s a lot going on and it’s not a good time for us.
JM: Why? What’s been coming between you?
GD: Well she was away filming for a few weeks and there where rumours in the paper about me and some model, but well there’s always some rumour about me and some model.
JM: Where you unfaithful?
GD: Of course, the rumours are nearly always true.
JM: Do you love you wife?
GD: Yeah she’s my whole world.
JM: Why cheat on her then?
GD: You have to see some of these girls Doc!
JM: Ok so what happened then.
GD: Well she went all moody and distant, then got caught shop lifting.
JM: Oh dear, what did she steal?
GD: A hedge trimmer from Homebase, Its cost me ten grand a man to keep it out of the papers. Waste of money really, someone will blab eventually. I just wanted a bit of time really.
(Pause and GD looks down at his feet)
GD Cont:
I don’t understand why she did it, we have a gardener! We don’t even have a hedge, it’s been all landscaped, like an Italian villa where we stayed on our honeymoon.
JM: Shoplifting is often a cry for some attention.
GD: Attention! She’s on the front of some bloody magazine every single week and her own TV show, How much bloody attention does she need!
JM: Well presumable more than she’s getting!
GD: Jesus!
JM: How about you? You mentioned earlier you had a big bet on the game, so do you think you have control of your gambling at the moment?
GD: Well I think it’s under control.
Incredulous
JM: Really?
Snaps back
GD: Yes really!
JM: I know it’s not easy for you to open up, but it’s the only way we can move forward. You came to me to help you control you gambling and cheating, to do that you have to express yourself.
Pithily
GD: Well I haven’t cheated on her this week and I’ve only had one bet.
JM: Glenn, its Monday.
GD: Oh yeah so it is.
JM: Does Gemma know about your gambling?
GD: Yeah she has an idea, probable noticed when I smashed up the wide screen last night after some tool missed a three foot putt.
JM: Oh.
GD: Yeah, Oh. JM: Can I ask how much you lost?
Coldy
GD: Well you can ask,
(Pauses looks down at his feet again)
GD Cont: Well I earn 100 large a week and this stung, Ok?
JM: What was the motivation for the bet? Incredulously
GD: Well I fucking thought he was going to win, why else would I back him.
JM: No I mean was there an emotional reason for the need to place a big bet? Where you bored or had it been a particularly trying day?
GD: I needed the cash to be honest, money is leaking out all over the place. Family, friends everybody’s nipping me.
JM: Maybe you need better financial management?
GD: What better than Gemma’s 17 year old cousin Martin who failed GCSE maths but Gemma’s mum think deserves a chance? Jesus, her families into everything I own, there like weeds every time I pull one up two more take its place.
CUT TO:
The reception area of JM’s building, its bright airy and very modern.
(JM is walking across the foyer, absentminded he is fumbling in his suit pocket. He looks up and see’s GD talking to the pretty receptionist, GD is leaning in close to her and she is looking star struck)
GD: Well I can get a suite at the Dorchester, they don’t usually let you have room’s by the hour, but they know me there.
(JM enter men’s toilets)
CUT TO:
Men’s toilets, clean and modern in the style of the building.
(JM enter and gives the toilets a cursory once over to make sure no one else is in earshot, he pulls out his phone and furtively dials)
JM: Charlie, its Jim! I have something for you.
(Waits for response)
JM: I’m sure your going to love this.
(Waits for response)
JM: Usual place, usual time,
Deviously
JM Continues: Usual amount?
(JM smiles upon the response)
(GD walks in, JM looks momentarily shocked but quickly recovers and acknowledges GD with a smile)
JM: OK, see you latter got to run!
(Puts phone away)
JM: Bloody agents!
GD: Tell me about it! Didn’t know you had an agent?
JM: It’s this whole Psychiatrist to the stars label the papers have pinned on me.
GD: Yeah, I’ve seen your bit on UP,UP,UP Britain.
JM: Also I’m currently writing a self help book and I’m in talks with a satellite channel called UK menopause or something about a daytime show.
GD: Well as long as you don’t talk about me!
JM: Of course not, I take the Hippocratic oath deadly seriously. I could get struck of if I didn’t, and rightly so!
(Both men walk towards the urinals)
GD: Race you! Tenner says I win!
Smiling
JM: Not sure this is helping your treatment!
(Both start peeing hard)
JM Cont: When I win you can just take it off my bill.
GD: A tenners just a drop in that fucking ocean. I Don’t know how you sleep at night.
Piously
JM: I sleep soundly in my Big house, secure in the knowledge I have helped many to live a more rewarding life.
(GD Laugh’s sarcastically, then stops peeing and raises his arms in triumph)
GD: I win.
(JM Looks down and briefly studies GD’s penis) JM: Well that was not a fair race, my piss had much further to travel! I’m sure you understand why a sporting hand shake Isn’t forthcoming.
CUT TO:
A sparsely populated Starbucks coffee shop.
(JM is seated with a giant cup in front of him, CFW dressed in a grey suit and wearing a bow tie acknowledges from the door and makes his way over and sits down when JM motions for him to do so)
JM: Hello Charlie.
CFW: Good day to you Sir.
(CFW Open his brief case and passes a thick padded envelope to JM, he then takes out a children’s juice box and JM stifles a giggle which CFW ignores)
JM: I hope its all there Charlie, last time it was 2 thousand light.
CFW: There’s 52 in there, to make up for the mistake with the last payment. I counted it personally, we sacked the conniving bugger from the cash office.
JM: You caught the thief then.
CFW: Well we caught someone, and to the man upstairs,
(CFW tilts his head and looks upowardly, JM follows this motion and looks quizzical)
JM: What God?
CFW: No not God, much more important than God old man, I’m talking about Dougie Simon’s the papers owner.
(With a worried look)
JM: Oh, him
(leaning in and talking conspiringly)
ICW: Yes dear boy, him.
(Pause, then ICW rubs his hands together and says jovially)
ICW CONT:
What have you got for me then?
JM: Well I’m sure if you wave enough padded envelopes under the noses of a few security cards at the home base on the king’s road they might have an interesting story to tell you?
(Pauses and smiles, then leans in to CFW)
JM CONT:A Story about the TV presenter wife of the captain of the England football team and a stolen hedge trimmer.
ICW: Interesting, a hedge trimmer you say?
JM: I know and they don’t even a hedge, let alone one that needs trimming.
ICW: How did she try to sneak it out? That a lot of equipment to sneak out in your undergarments!
JM: God only knows, I’m sure your reporters will provide all the lurid details for public consumption. When will you run the story? Will you save it form the weekly editions?
ICW: No can’t keep something like this under wraps for that long.
JM: will you break it tomorrow?
ICW: Lets see, Have my boys up the Chelsea road by three, someone will blab by four and the story written by five, plenty of time to make tomorrow’s earlies.
JM: I’m on UP,UP,UP Britain tomorrow, you know I will have to be hard on you for disclosing this for profit.
ICW: Don’t worry old boy, water of a ducks back. I know its late notice but there’s a thing at the cricket club tonight. Can you make it?
JM: Sorry don’t think so.
ICW: Shame, now you’re a celebrity you could have helped out with the charity auction
JM: I promised the wife I would be home for dinner, and I have to be up early for UP,UP,UP Britain!
(ICW Suck noisily from his juice box, JM looks on incredulous with a slight smile)
ICW: Old man, you might think I look foolish but I think the same of you sitting there with your five pound cup of tea!
CUT TO: JM’s beautiful family home in the leafy suburbs.
(JM entering the kitchen, where his wife is doing something complicated with a joint of beef, she’s wearing her midwife’s uniform)
JM: Hello love.
Karen McNaughton: Hello, how was you day.
JM: Oh fine, and yours?
KM: Oh very busy, always full on at the end of September, Lots of drunken Chrimbo conceptions to deal with.
(JM not really paying attention to his wife whilst looking through the cupboards)
JM: Yeah, sure, did you pick up Rachel’s birthday cake? I need to drop it off at the restaurant by Friday.
(Rachel enters the kitchen, 12-13 year old girl, dressed in Goth clothes and make up)
JM: Hello honey.
(No response)
KM: Answer your father honey.
Rachel McNaughton: Hurrr.
(Both parents look at each other despairingly as Rachel starts to take unhealthy looking drinks and snacks from the fridge)
KM: Don’t take all that honey, dinner’s in a couple of hours.
(Sarcastically)
RM: Hurrr,
Pause
RM CONT:
Oh look its fridge police, everybody run!
(RM exits kitchen, both parent look on bemused)
JM: Whatever happened to that sweet little girl who used to draw pictures of me as superman.
KM: Better get used to it, five more teen years to go.
JM: What’s for dinner?
(KM looks back at him strangely whilst holding a giant side of beef)
KM: Erm, Guess?
JM: Beef!
Pause
JM Cont: Fancy some wine with dinner?
KM: Sorry, can’t I’m on call tonight.
JM: Shame, I need a drink.
(JM exists though side door)
CUT TO:
(JM in his garage opens a concealed safe and puts in the padded envelope. Three or four other envelopes are clearly visible and this makes JM smile, he turns picks a bottle of red wine from a small wine rack and exists)
CUT TO:
The family dinning room, bright and modern room with a beautifully laid table.
KM: Have they moved the time of your segment again tomorrow?
JM: No its still eight fifteen.
KM: What will you talk about?
JM: Not sure, will see what’s in tomorrows a paper.
KM: You really should prepare better, what if there’s nothing to talk about in tomorrows papers? JM: Oh, I’m there will be something to talk about honey.
(KM turn towards RM and cheerily)
KM: What do you think Dad should talk about on the telly tomorrow?
RM: Pregnant teenage Goths, we need all the help we can get.
JM: Don’t even joke about that, its not funny.
RM: LOL
JM: LOL, that not even a word.
RM: Jesus, your just so,
(Pause)
RM Cont:
…..So MEH!
JM: MEH? Again that’s not a word either!
RM: Mum can I go now.
KM: Ok back by half eight and no hanging around the park, its full of hoodies.
RM: MEH.
(RM Stomps out)
JM: Why does she hate us so much?
KM: Don’t worry love, only half a decade and she goes to Uni!
JM: LOL
KM: Seriously though love, I wish you would prepare better for UP,UP,UP Britain. You wouldn’t want to look stupid on TV now would you?
JM: Honestly love, I have a very good idea what to talk about tomorrow. I wouldn’t want to upset Pam, I don’t want to be sent to the naughty corner!
KM: Jesus, I forgot about that.
JM: What honestly? Your telling me you forgot about the dinner party when the queen of breakfast telly sent her husband to the naughty corner for spilling lemonade on our hall carpet?
KM: Its not funny, the whole country thinks its some kind of act with them! She’s a complete monster, that poor man.
JM: You don’t know the half of it, remember she used to be a patient of mine.
KM: Come on spill the beans!
JM: Come on now love, you know I can’t tell you that! Remember the Hippocratic oath!
KM: Arse.
CUT TO:
Studio of UP,UP,UP Britain!
(All camera’s pointed on Rick and Pam, a middle aged couple wearing awful matching jump suits)
To camera
Pam Sealey: And after the break we have or resident head doctor, Dr James McNaughton with his weekly look at mental health issue, Insane in the membrane.
Rick Sealey: Well Pam, I wonder what topic the good doctor will be covering today.?
(Pam looks at him with complete contempt)
PS: Yes Rick, I wonder? The wife of the captain of the England football team, TV presenter and pride of the nation is splattered all over the papers after being caught shop lifting after presumable suffering a mental breakdown of some sort, and you wonder what mental health topic he will be covering today? Wow Rick, just wow.
(RS looks crestfallen and the horrid UP,UP,UP Britain music plays them out to a break, Rick then scuttles away. PS stands up and stretches and JM walks in, sits down and the studio hands start to Mike him up)
PS: What he going to talk about! It’s a good job I’m there in the morning to dress that retard!
(PS Shaking her head)
PS CONT: Jim, lovely to see you. Juicy topic this morning. What was that crazy tart thinking about! And a hedge trimmer of all things!
JM: Yeah, and she doesn’t even have a hedge.
PS: At least Winona was stealing designer outfits! Imagine the shame of getting caught in Homebase bad enough!
(UP,UP,UP Britain music plays them in)
PS: Welcome back, and now joining us on the sofa is psychiatrist to the starts, DR James McNaughton. Good morning James.
JM: Good morning Pam.
PS: Well shocking news in the paper this morning, for those that have not heard. Its claimed that former model now turned TV presenter Gemma Drayton, famously married to England football team captain Glenn Drayton,
(Dramatic pause, then attempting to conceal her joy)
PS CONT: Has been caught shoplifting a hedge trimmer from Homebase, such sad news James.
JM: Yes Pam its tragic, this is the classic cry for attention, its so very sad the news has come out like this, the shock and shame will be very hard to overcome.
PS: Yes, James, what kind of damage will the terrible way this news has been broken,
(PS holds up news paper with humorous pun, something like HOMEBASE HEADCASE!)
PS CONT: Likely to cause this poor girl.
JM: Well Pam the manner this news paper has chosen to release this devastating private information will put back her mental recovery by months if not years.
(Looking directly at the camera)
JM CONT: I really think it’s irresponsible the way this news paper has chosen to publicly humiliate this poor young girl. This news was not published in the public interest. Its pure exploitation of a poor young ladies in a fragile mental state to sell more papers. Pure greed Pam!
PS: Strong Words Doc.
JM: Sorry Pam,
(JM looking sincere to the camera)
JM CONT: This papers actions make me sick to my stomach.
PS: Well Gemma and Glenn are national treasures, what’s the correct next step for them?
JM: Well I think some time away from the media spotlight to reflect followed by professional counselling.
PS: Excellent advice Doc, I just hope Gemma takes it and I hope you don’t mind me saying but I hope she follows the footsteps of so many top celebrities and beats a path to your door.
JM: Well Pam my doors always open to those who need my help.
PS: Thanks Doc, now over to Rick whose in the TV centre car park with a rapping pensioner from Stoke who claims to be the real fresh prince.
(Camera pans away, you can hear in the back ground Rick interviewing an octogenarian rapper)
JM: Thanks Pam for touting me for the business!
PS: Well you know honey, I’ll always be in your debt.
JM: No you don’t Pam, It’s my job.
(PS turns to a monitor and looks at Rick flashin Gangster signs with a confused old man dressed like Dr.Dre)
PS: Dear God, look at that fool.
JM: The country loves him Pam, and you.
(They air kiss and part)
CUT TO: The reception area of JM’s building, its bright airy and very modern.
(JM is walking to his office, The Pretty receptionist is frantically trying to gain his attention without causing a scene)
(Looking uncomfortable and guilty)
Receptionist: Mr McNaughton, Glenn Drayton here to see you. I know he didn’t have an appointment but after the news this week, well I just though you would see him.
(Looks down at her feet)
Receptionist Cont:I’m sorry.
JM: No that’s fine Dawn, I haven’t seen the news yet this morning. How is his wife?
DAWN: Well they said on UP,UP,UP Britain! That she will survive the suicide attempt, although she will probable never wear a plunging neck line again.
CUT TO: JM’s office
(JM walks into the room, he greets Glenn with a silent impassioned hug)
JM: Glenn how is she? Such an awful business.
GD: She’s going to be OK, although the doctor’s say her choice of clothing might be restricted.
JM: Such a shame, if there’s anything I can do.
GD: Well I know your busy, but please you’re the only person I would trust with my baby!
JM: Of course Glenn, anything for you and Gemma. CUT TO: Dark office, Deep rich coloured wood stained furniture’s.
(JM is sitting on an antique psychiatrist couch, a grey haired man is sitting with his back to the camera in a chair facing JM)
DR IAIN: So you have agreed to counsel the kleptomaniac suicidal TV girl then?
JM: Well of course she’s the most high profile client imaginable. This will really raise my profile.
DR IAIN: Do you feel anyway responsible for the girls current predicament? No feeling’s of guilt or remorse?
(Silence as both digest the words)
DR IAIN CONT: She tried to kill herself following your actions, you betrayed the Hippocratic Oath? Nothing? No remorse at all?
JM: OK, I did betray the Oath. But lets be clear on this, this story was always coming out, nothing could stop that. That was inevitable.
DR IAIN: Well that we can never know, you made sure of that.
JM: Somebody would have made some money out of it, misht as well be me. At least I give a percentage of my earnings to charity!
DR IAIN: Oh yes you have mentioned this before , Fifteen pounds a month I believe you said?
JM: Well I didn’t say it was a very big percentage.
DR IAIN: Tell me how’s the family?
JM: Great. Karen’s like mother Teresa with all the time and effort she puts in at the hospital and Rachel hates me.
DR IAIN: I’m sure your daughter doesn’t hate you.
JM: She does, the way she looks at me. I miss the days when she looked at me like I was the greatest man in the world. I missed when she used to draw me as superman, I miss my little girl.
Sunday, 22 November 2009
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
Staying Sharp
This is a guest article written by the popular Betfair writer Marcus Bateman,
One of the true hallmarks of great players is that they all have some way to keep themselves sharp for long periods of time.
To some players, this ability just seems to come naturally to them, such as Doyle Brunson and the late Chip Reese, who both prided themselves on being able to stay in good games for days if need be regardless of the conditions around them; for others it becomes an area helped by diet and exercise, such as Daniel Negreanu's adherence to a very strict regime during big tournaments; and for others it has been more fatalistic methods, using drink or drugs to keep themselves going for days, such as the ultimately tragic story of the great Stu Ungar's decline into cocaine addiction.
Poker is a game where you are constantly looking for an edge over other players, and staying sharp is a great example of an area that can provide a huge edge if you get it right. Even a player of equal (or even greater ability) than you can prove profitable to you if they lack the ability to stay sharp for prolonged periods.
Fatigue and mental tiredness are extremely damaging to a poker player, and just like the effect they have on you when driving, or doing any other reasonably complex task, these factors can very quickly start to seriously impair your playing ability.
Not only can they make you a losing player if not addressed, they can also severely limit your opportunities in very good games. Often weak players enjoy playing for long periods at odd times of day, and some of the most profitable games that exist require you to be able to keep yourself going at a decent standard for long periods.
The key thing to remember about mental fatigue and tiredness is that different people all have different ways of dealing with it. Most revolve around a balanced diet, eaten at regular intervals during playing time, a good exercise regime, and some method of mental activity outside of poker. This is particularly crucial to a predominately online poker player who may go for days without even venturing outside their home.
(As fatigue is often so hard to spot, it is crucial that you try and adhere to at least some of these each time you play, as often the absence of them may not be missed by your conscious brain, but will almost certainly be missed by your wallet.
Staying sharp is one of the simplest and most effective edges you can give yourself in poker, and one that hundreds of players ignore, with the result that they drastically hit their win rate. Do not let this happen to you, a simple regime of diet and exercise might not seem much, but it can add up to a huge edge in the long run.
If you enjoyed this article and would like to see more information on the great game of poker why not pay a visit to the dedicated Betfair Poker site.
One of the true hallmarks of great players is that they all have some way to keep themselves sharp for long periods of time.
To some players, this ability just seems to come naturally to them, such as Doyle Brunson and the late Chip Reese, who both prided themselves on being able to stay in good games for days if need be regardless of the conditions around them; for others it becomes an area helped by diet and exercise, such as Daniel Negreanu's adherence to a very strict regime during big tournaments; and for others it has been more fatalistic methods, using drink or drugs to keep themselves going for days, such as the ultimately tragic story of the great Stu Ungar's decline into cocaine addiction.
Poker is a game where you are constantly looking for an edge over other players, and staying sharp is a great example of an area that can provide a huge edge if you get it right. Even a player of equal (or even greater ability) than you can prove profitable to you if they lack the ability to stay sharp for prolonged periods.
Fatigue and mental tiredness are extremely damaging to a poker player, and just like the effect they have on you when driving, or doing any other reasonably complex task, these factors can very quickly start to seriously impair your playing ability.
Not only can they make you a losing player if not addressed, they can also severely limit your opportunities in very good games. Often weak players enjoy playing for long periods at odd times of day, and some of the most profitable games that exist require you to be able to keep yourself going at a decent standard for long periods.
The key thing to remember about mental fatigue and tiredness is that different people all have different ways of dealing with it. Most revolve around a balanced diet, eaten at regular intervals during playing time, a good exercise regime, and some method of mental activity outside of poker. This is particularly crucial to a predominately online poker player who may go for days without even venturing outside their home.
(As fatigue is often so hard to spot, it is crucial that you try and adhere to at least some of these each time you play, as often the absence of them may not be missed by your conscious brain, but will almost certainly be missed by your wallet.
Staying sharp is one of the simplest and most effective edges you can give yourself in poker, and one that hundreds of players ignore, with the result that they drastically hit their win rate. Do not let this happen to you, a simple regime of diet and exercise might not seem much, but it can add up to a huge edge in the long run.
If you enjoyed this article and would like to see more information on the great game of poker why not pay a visit to the dedicated Betfair Poker site.
Monday, 16 November 2009
Nasty Run, Disaster Avoided
You have some swings in poker that are just very difficult to deal with and like most humans I’m not very well equipped when it comes to dealing with the randomness of being, probably more pertinently though I’m fucking awful at dealing with the savage randomness of number generators.
This weekend I played 3,300 hands of poker, a mix of NLHE sit and gos, HUP mainly but a few 2 and 3 table tournaments. As I say Things went quite poorly and although I don’t really need poker tracker to tell me when im running bad it’s nice too have the raw data, after 3,300 hands I was losing money with AA though to 99, in fact the only pairs I where winning money with was the 88,55,33 and not by much.
I definitely lost more money with some hands than I needed, stubbornly holding onto
kings on an ace high flop immediately springs too mind, I’m fairly happy that this is not so much a leak as an inevitable consequence of the constant raining down of beats.
Angry and tired I registered for a few $500 HUP Sit and Go’s in a make or break move, then for some strange reason I unregistered and took a break, I played Doll house and then Jenga with my daughter and then settled down with the rest of the family to watch a film called, ‘Nine’. Load of shite to be honest.
In the evening I played the bloggerment which was a lot of fun, you kind of wish all poker was this much fun but I suppose it would make the game very unprofitable as being permanently sat on a table full of knowledgeable poker players is a recipe for disaster. FWIW I came 2nd to a deserved winner Dream of Vegas (link on my blog roll).
I surveyed the damage this morning and it won’t take me long to get it back, and well this might just be the start of some improved emotional control, who knows, stranger things have happened.
This weekend I played 3,300 hands of poker, a mix of NLHE sit and gos, HUP mainly but a few 2 and 3 table tournaments. As I say Things went quite poorly and although I don’t really need poker tracker to tell me when im running bad it’s nice too have the raw data, after 3,300 hands I was losing money with AA though to 99, in fact the only pairs I where winning money with was the 88,55,33 and not by much.
I definitely lost more money with some hands than I needed, stubbornly holding onto
kings on an ace high flop immediately springs too mind, I’m fairly happy that this is not so much a leak as an inevitable consequence of the constant raining down of beats.
Angry and tired I registered for a few $500 HUP Sit and Go’s in a make or break move, then for some strange reason I unregistered and took a break, I played Doll house and then Jenga with my daughter and then settled down with the rest of the family to watch a film called, ‘Nine’. Load of shite to be honest.
In the evening I played the bloggerment which was a lot of fun, you kind of wish all poker was this much fun but I suppose it would make the game very unprofitable as being permanently sat on a table full of knowledgeable poker players is a recipe for disaster. FWIW I came 2nd to a deserved winner Dream of Vegas (link on my blog roll).
I surveyed the damage this morning and it won’t take me long to get it back, and well this might just be the start of some improved emotional control, who knows, stranger things have happened.
Wednesday, 11 November 2009
Online Rounder’s Script Part 3
I started this a while back and got side tracked, the two previous parts get a ton of hits so thought I'd continue with it,
Part 1 is here;
Part 2 is here;
Micky: Hey, Mum.
Mum : How'd it go?
Micky: Oh, great. [Sighs] I am sick of that paper round.
Mum : Don't worry.
Micky: Mmm.hey, you know, I think I'm hooked up for this summer.
Mum: Hooked up how?
Micky: I impressed the manager of John Menzies, I think I might be in line for a holiday job.
Mum: Tell me more.
Micky: Well, All the movers and shakers of the local retail outlets were playing cards, and...Just hear me out now, hear me out.
They were playing cards and I read his hand blind.
Mum: So, instead of coming home and doing your GCSE course work, you went and played cards...
Micky: No, I wasn't even playing. They were playing.I just caught his eye by reading his hand, that's all.I mean, as long as I don't fuck up the DFS inserts, I think the job's mine.
Mum: What kind of job is that gonna be, Son? Delivering copies of card player? if you get in this way, you'll always be a hustler to them.
Micky: [muttering under his breath] Shit. I didn't even play.
Mum: you watch your language when your under my roof... Son, you must stop all this online pokerin nonsense, sixteen hours a day locked up on your own, staring at a computer screen eight tabling micros limits for ten dollars an hour, well its just a dream son.
[Tussles Micky's hair affectionately]
Get yourself a good education and one day you might be running your own Newsagents!...
Micky, I need you to do me a favour tonight.
Micky: Oh Muuumm..
Mum: I need you to meet your cousin at the clinic, there letting him out.
Micky: Can't you pick him up in the car? you know how much he sweats when he has to walk more than ten yards.
Mum: Now don't be mean; Arthurs lost a lot of weight,
Micky: I should think so, his been at fat camp for nine months!
[Micky Narrating] My cousin Worm's was once the subject of a channel four documentary, called Britain’s fattest pre-teen's, at age nine he weighed twenty two Stone. That's where he got his nickname; Worm's, cos when he had eaten all the food in the house he would start digging up the garden in a desperate bid to find something, anything that was remotely edible, he mostly ate worms thus the nickname, oh and one time he ate a family of moles he had unearthed.
Fat Kid 1: [Makes Buzzer Sound] - Pow!
Worm's: W-Was that, like, your strong finish or something?
[lays down happy families card on top of a stack of cards and scoops up pile of Cadbury’s finger's]
Fat kid 1: Motherhumper!
Worm's: You leave me no choice, the way you play.
Fat kid 1: That's the fourth time you done played that Mr Bun the baker on my arse.
Worm's: No, no, no, no, no. Dowling had it three hands ago, and two hands ago I got the baker, so I don't want to hear you bitchin', okay?
Fat kid 1: Yeah, but he shot the moon on that hand, didn't he? -
Worm's: Yeah, I saw that.
Fat kid 1: So it helped you.
Worm's: Now... Okay, you're right.
Fat kid 1: You ain't walking outta here with our Chocloate fingers, Worm's.
Worm's: You know the drill, okay? I'm not gonna eat'em. I'll hold on to 'em.if you want 'em back, you can trade me for 'em, or try to play double or nothing tomorrow.
Fat Camp Councillor: Patterson! What the hell you sittin' there for? You're processed. Come on.
Fat kid 2: Processed? This motherhumper's gettin' the jump.
Fat kid 3: Come on, man, have some decency here, Worm's.
Fat kid 1: You can buy all the Biscuits and cake you want in half an hour.
Worm's: What are you talking about? I won these fair and square.
Fat kid 1: Your diabetic, you can't even eat Biscuits, Worm's.
Worm's: Jesus, you guys are such fuckin' babies. You know that? If you're determined to die of heart failure, you really oughta learn how to play cards.
Fat kid 2: Ain't a good idea to add insult to injury, yo.
Fat kid 1: That shit will come back and hurt you. - You know what?
Worm's: Not in this lifetime. Enjoy your salad.
[Micky Narrating] Worm's dad ran a burger van, when he wasn't too fuckin' drunk. That's when we did. Of course, we ate more than we ever sold. Then his Dad gave up the Van and went on disability, and we moved up to harder fast food, playing online poker to feed our habits, By the time we where eleven we where grinding micro limits to feed our habit, at least ten visits a day too KFC is more expensive than a crack addiction and we just couldn’t earn enough so started cheating.
Then one day his Mum and Dad decided to cash in and appear on a Jeremy Kyle special, the show was called "Please stop my fat c*nt of a kid eating me out of house and home", that's when social services got involved....
They hauled him up before the juvenile magistrate, offered him a deal.Tell us who else was cheating online to pay for salty, fatty, snack treats and we'll go easy on you, put you on Atkins and maybe a little light exercise.
Worm's didn't say a fuckin' word. Got himself sentenced to nine months in a fat camp for criminally obese children. Not many guys would stand up for a friend like that.
Worm's: Ta-da! - [Both Laugh]Micky... God. I knew you'd be here. - Aw, man - You never let me down.
Micky: Did you get those money transfers I sent you?
Worm's: Oh yeah, those head up sit and go's kept me sane after all that fruit, veg and exercise. I've got the Nash equilibrium tables down cold.
Micky: Ok, queen four of suit, push or fold.
Worm's: Push.
Micky: Ok, Jack six suited, push or fold.
Worm's: Push.
Micky: Ok, eight four unsuited, push or fold.
Worm's: Push. Micky, it’s all push... You been online? Is your game sharp?
Micky: No, man, I'm off it.
Worm's: What, are you... you gettin' cold cards?
Micky: No, man, I mean I quit.
Worm's: [Laughs] What, are you shitting me? -
Micky: No, man, I... I got cleaned out. -
Worm's: Micky? You lost?
Micky: Yeah, man, l... It was a real blood game over at UltimateDebt, I sat down with the KGB77698_Balla and he emptied my pockets.
Worm's: Jesus, what were you thinking? So, you're just a school kid now?What are you doing for money?
Micky: I'm doing a paper round.
Worm's: Oh, God, you're killin' me, we gotta get you back on the game.The old partners here, we're gonna run like..... Something very quick
Micky: No, no, no, I'm off it, I mean, I really am. Done.
Worm's: You are, huh? All right. I know a game perfect for the two of us. It's a forum game, on the Boss network... prime pickings... no-one who knows anything about poker play's on there anymore.
Micky: I'm really off it.
Worm's: Do you have any money on Boss?
Micky: Ten maybe, twenty dollars.
Worm's: Whoa, Jesus, what have you been livin' on?
Micky: I'm livin' a little light, I told you.
Worm's: Hey, thanks, but I mean, that's, like three sit and go's.
Micky: So forget this game. I'll get you backed on Blonde or 2+2 tomorrow.
Worm's: No way. I gotta get started. [Chuckles]I mean, I'm already behind here.
Micky : You just got out. What's the big fuckin' hurry?
Worm's: The hurry is, other than you, my friend, there's about five other people,like, eagerly awaiting my release, I've been getting money from Tony G's new staking site, "TakeashotmissUgetshot.Com" and well I'm a little behind.
Micky : How much do you owe?
Worm's: Ten - I can't even figure it with the juice.
Micky : Ten!
Worm's: Hey, look, I can get started on this easy if it's you and me working together.
Micky : I heard you asking before, and I hear you asking now, but I can't do that.I just can't do that. I've made promises, to me mum.
Worm's: Hey, you know what? What am I saying? I totally understand, I do.
[Both Hug and head off in different directions]
If you enjoyed this please leave a comment, this stuff takes a lot of effort and feed back is always appreciated.
Part 1 is here;
Part 2 is here;
Micky: Hey, Mum.
Mum : How'd it go?
Micky: Oh, great. [Sighs] I am sick of that paper round.
Mum : Don't worry.
Micky: Mmm.hey, you know, I think I'm hooked up for this summer.
Mum: Hooked up how?
Micky: I impressed the manager of John Menzies, I think I might be in line for a holiday job.
Mum: Tell me more.
Micky: Well, All the movers and shakers of the local retail outlets were playing cards, and...Just hear me out now, hear me out.
They were playing cards and I read his hand blind.
Mum: So, instead of coming home and doing your GCSE course work, you went and played cards...
Micky: No, I wasn't even playing. They were playing.I just caught his eye by reading his hand, that's all.I mean, as long as I don't fuck up the DFS inserts, I think the job's mine.
Mum: What kind of job is that gonna be, Son? Delivering copies of card player? if you get in this way, you'll always be a hustler to them.
Micky: [muttering under his breath] Shit. I didn't even play.
Mum: you watch your language when your under my roof... Son, you must stop all this online pokerin nonsense, sixteen hours a day locked up on your own, staring at a computer screen eight tabling micros limits for ten dollars an hour, well its just a dream son.
[Tussles Micky's hair affectionately]
Get yourself a good education and one day you might be running your own Newsagents!...
Micky, I need you to do me a favour tonight.
Micky: Oh Muuumm..
Mum: I need you to meet your cousin at the clinic, there letting him out.
Micky: Can't you pick him up in the car? you know how much he sweats when he has to walk more than ten yards.
Mum: Now don't be mean; Arthurs lost a lot of weight,
Micky: I should think so, his been at fat camp for nine months!
[Micky Narrating] My cousin Worm's was once the subject of a channel four documentary, called Britain’s fattest pre-teen's, at age nine he weighed twenty two Stone. That's where he got his nickname; Worm's, cos when he had eaten all the food in the house he would start digging up the garden in a desperate bid to find something, anything that was remotely edible, he mostly ate worms thus the nickname, oh and one time he ate a family of moles he had unearthed.
Fat Kid 1: [Makes Buzzer Sound] - Pow!
Worm's: W-Was that, like, your strong finish or something?
[lays down happy families card on top of a stack of cards and scoops up pile of Cadbury’s finger's]
Fat kid 1: Motherhumper!
Worm's: You leave me no choice, the way you play.
Fat kid 1: That's the fourth time you done played that Mr Bun the baker on my arse.
Worm's: No, no, no, no, no. Dowling had it three hands ago, and two hands ago I got the baker, so I don't want to hear you bitchin', okay?
Fat kid 1: Yeah, but he shot the moon on that hand, didn't he? -
Worm's: Yeah, I saw that.
Fat kid 1: So it helped you.
Worm's: Now... Okay, you're right.
Fat kid 1: You ain't walking outta here with our Chocloate fingers, Worm's.
Worm's: You know the drill, okay? I'm not gonna eat'em. I'll hold on to 'em.if you want 'em back, you can trade me for 'em, or try to play double or nothing tomorrow.
Fat Camp Councillor: Patterson! What the hell you sittin' there for? You're processed. Come on.
Fat kid 2: Processed? This motherhumper's gettin' the jump.
Fat kid 3: Come on, man, have some decency here, Worm's.
Fat kid 1: You can buy all the Biscuits and cake you want in half an hour.
Worm's: What are you talking about? I won these fair and square.
Fat kid 1: Your diabetic, you can't even eat Biscuits, Worm's.
Worm's: Jesus, you guys are such fuckin' babies. You know that? If you're determined to die of heart failure, you really oughta learn how to play cards.
Fat kid 2: Ain't a good idea to add insult to injury, yo.
Fat kid 1: That shit will come back and hurt you. - You know what?
Worm's: Not in this lifetime. Enjoy your salad.
[Micky Narrating] Worm's dad ran a burger van, when he wasn't too fuckin' drunk. That's when we did. Of course, we ate more than we ever sold. Then his Dad gave up the Van and went on disability, and we moved up to harder fast food, playing online poker to feed our habits, By the time we where eleven we where grinding micro limits to feed our habit, at least ten visits a day too KFC is more expensive than a crack addiction and we just couldn’t earn enough so started cheating.
Then one day his Mum and Dad decided to cash in and appear on a Jeremy Kyle special, the show was called "Please stop my fat c*nt of a kid eating me out of house and home", that's when social services got involved....
They hauled him up before the juvenile magistrate, offered him a deal.Tell us who else was cheating online to pay for salty, fatty, snack treats and we'll go easy on you, put you on Atkins and maybe a little light exercise.
Worm's didn't say a fuckin' word. Got himself sentenced to nine months in a fat camp for criminally obese children. Not many guys would stand up for a friend like that.
Worm's: Ta-da! - [Both Laugh]Micky... God. I knew you'd be here. - Aw, man - You never let me down.
Micky: Did you get those money transfers I sent you?
Worm's: Oh yeah, those head up sit and go's kept me sane after all that fruit, veg and exercise. I've got the Nash equilibrium tables down cold.
Micky: Ok, queen four of suit, push or fold.
Worm's: Push.
Micky: Ok, Jack six suited, push or fold.
Worm's: Push.
Micky: Ok, eight four unsuited, push or fold.
Worm's: Push. Micky, it’s all push... You been online? Is your game sharp?
Micky: No, man, I'm off it.
Worm's: What, are you... you gettin' cold cards?
Micky: No, man, I mean I quit.
Worm's: [Laughs] What, are you shitting me? -
Micky: No, man, I... I got cleaned out. -
Worm's: Micky? You lost?
Micky: Yeah, man, l... It was a real blood game over at UltimateDebt, I sat down with the KGB77698_Balla and he emptied my pockets.
Worm's: Jesus, what were you thinking? So, you're just a school kid now?What are you doing for money?
Micky: I'm doing a paper round.
Worm's: Oh, God, you're killin' me, we gotta get you back on the game.The old partners here, we're gonna run like..... Something very quick
Micky: No, no, no, I'm off it, I mean, I really am. Done.
Worm's: You are, huh? All right. I know a game perfect for the two of us. It's a forum game, on the Boss network... prime pickings... no-one who knows anything about poker play's on there anymore.
Micky: I'm really off it.
Worm's: Do you have any money on Boss?
Micky: Ten maybe, twenty dollars.
Worm's: Whoa, Jesus, what have you been livin' on?
Micky: I'm livin' a little light, I told you.
Worm's: Hey, thanks, but I mean, that's, like three sit and go's.
Micky: So forget this game. I'll get you backed on Blonde or 2+2 tomorrow.
Worm's: No way. I gotta get started. [Chuckles]I mean, I'm already behind here.
Micky : You just got out. What's the big fuckin' hurry?
Worm's: The hurry is, other than you, my friend, there's about five other people,like, eagerly awaiting my release, I've been getting money from Tony G's new staking site, "TakeashotmissUgetshot.Com" and well I'm a little behind.
Micky : How much do you owe?
Worm's: Ten - I can't even figure it with the juice.
Micky : Ten!
Worm's: Hey, look, I can get started on this easy if it's you and me working together.
Micky : I heard you asking before, and I hear you asking now, but I can't do that.I just can't do that. I've made promises, to me mum.
Worm's: Hey, you know what? What am I saying? I totally understand, I do.
[Both Hug and head off in different directions]
If you enjoyed this please leave a comment, this stuff takes a lot of effort and feed back is always appreciated.
Saturday, 7 November 2009
Taunton Poker Night III
Having spent £65 on a lovely bit of baize (which has had the wife worried as I’ve sat around stroking it since its purchase) I was really looking forward to this one. Had a little bit of a fiddle with the structure so opened with a double chance, double buy-in that started with a slow structure that really speeds up after the first hour and have increased the speed of the final two games to make them genuine turbo games.
The first game was taken down by J.P Litston with Phil Joyes in 2nd and debutant Michael Lawrence a credible third.
The second game was won by me, my pocket nines the undoing of Russ Baker’s K7 heads-up. The third game was taken down by Phil Joyes with Mark Williams finishing second.
New boys Andy Tozer, Mark Williams and Michael Lawrence all played well and we now have a regularish line up of eight runners with more enquiring so its starting to get a bit of steam behind it.
Special mention to the luckless Jason Lovegrove for helping with the dealing duties and Andy Tozer for taking the sickest beat of the night, AcAd V’s 10d8c on a 6d7d3d board, with an off suit 9 popping on the turn!
Thanks to all who played
Would appreciate any fellow bloggers adding a HTML button for the UKPOKERINFO site HTML is here;
The first game was taken down by J.P Litston with Phil Joyes in 2nd and debutant Michael Lawrence a credible third.
The second game was won by me, my pocket nines the undoing of Russ Baker’s K7 heads-up. The third game was taken down by Phil Joyes with Mark Williams finishing second.
New boys Andy Tozer, Mark Williams and Michael Lawrence all played well and we now have a regularish line up of eight runners with more enquiring so its starting to get a bit of steam behind it.
Special mention to the luckless Jason Lovegrove for helping with the dealing duties and Andy Tozer for taking the sickest beat of the night, AcAd V’s 10d8c on a 6d7d3d board, with an off suit 9 popping on the turn!
Thanks to all who played
Would appreciate any fellow bloggers adding a HTML button for the UKPOKERINFO site HTML is here;
Wednesday, 4 November 2009
HUP SuperTurbo’s On I-poker
Loving the HUP SuperTurbo's, have an ROI of 8% over 700 games which although minus the rake only equals 3% this is negated by the fact you can play such high volume. I don’t get a lot of time to play at the moment so managing 700 games in a months is a lot for me, so the maths look something like this 700 X $5 = 3500, 8% of this equals $280 minus the rake equals $105 + rake back which is 25% of $175 which is $38, which from a $50 bankroll is quite an impressive jump.
Now am I just running super hot or is this a very easy and robotically exploitable form of poker? My strategy for these games is so simple it seems ridiculously easy and can be taught in a couple of sessions, so surely this can’t be sustainable?
I gave Hutchy a training session the other night and plan another tonight so if he can repeat the trick over the month well know we have an easy strategy for building a roll up quickly, I won’t have the time to repeat it myself this month as I have something major at work to get done and apart from a home game coming up I won’t get much poker played at all from now till the new year, I then move home again!
This might seem like small beer but at 10-15 games an hour 2 or 3 tabling this means you could play maybe 700 games a month at only the $20 level to make about $600-$700 which is a nice return for not too much work.
Now am I just running super hot or is this a very easy and robotically exploitable form of poker? My strategy for these games is so simple it seems ridiculously easy and can be taught in a couple of sessions, so surely this can’t be sustainable?
I gave Hutchy a training session the other night and plan another tonight so if he can repeat the trick over the month well know we have an easy strategy for building a roll up quickly, I won’t have the time to repeat it myself this month as I have something major at work to get done and apart from a home game coming up I won’t get much poker played at all from now till the new year, I then move home again!
This might seem like small beer but at 10-15 games an hour 2 or 3 tabling this means you could play maybe 700 games a month at only the $20 level to make about $600-$700 which is a nice return for not too much work.
Tuesday, 27 October 2009
RACIST
I don’t know what the fuck this is…..
Martin was very upset; he had lost his ethno-statement of reference and licence or ESTORAL as they where more commonly referred to and although he had been repeating slightly differing versions of the printed statement contained on the back since the age of four he just could not for the life of him remember the exact wording in its current form without the help of his little laminated card for reference.
And with out these words to protect him, this put him in the most dangerous position possible, he might actually offend someone my making a statement that could be classed in some form or another to be RACIST. In truth the little card supplied by the world government to all citizens when they reached the age of four had long become an emotional attachment to Martin in the same way that a small child would become emotionally invested in a comfort blanket. Martin needed his ESTORAL, so being without it meant he felt doubly insecure, as if the thought of being dragged off to one of the cities many Racial and Cultural realignment centres wasn’t terrifying enough.
Somewhat dejected Martin stood in the middle of his kitchen dressed only in his under pants and distractedly started to prepare his breakfast of grey toasted bread and jam. Martin really hated grey bread, the government scientists who developed the recipe had managed to create something with the texture of brown bread and all the nutrition of white bread and with the taste of neither, which considering the many billions spent on creating a racially neutral food stuff it seemed a shame they had only really managed to produce a form of semi-digestible cardboard.
Martin shook himself from this revolutionary thinking and reiterated to himself that the great need for a racially undefined breakfast food stuff was crystal clear, after all it had been a breakfast meeting between two world leaders in 2119 that subsequently lead to an argument over the merits of white as opposed to brown bread that then escalated into the starting of the first ethno wars.
Martin sipped on his morning coffee which he took grey as incidentally did everyone on the right side of the law following the banning of white and black coffee (some people in the pro choice movement still resisted) which was brought about as a direct consequence of the Kenco riots of 2141. On his second or third sip a memory from the night before leaped into his consciousness and he knew immediately where his ESTORAL card was, Jesus why did he have to open his big mouth.
Memories flooded forth, how could he have been so stupid! It must have been all the beer on an almost empty stomach, shit the portions at the Café Biege where pathetic yet surprisingly expensive. Drunk, that was the only reason to explain why he said at the top of voice, “I quite like this African-Acid-House-Funky-Jazz”. The room which had been pulsating with music went deathly silent as everyone stopped what they where doing and just looked at Martin with a mixture of pity and contempt.
Everyone at work would know, and if he didn’t send of his ESTORAL and plead guilty too expressing a cultural preference someone would be sure to report him and he would get more than the mandatory three points added to the penalty section on the front of his ESTORAL and then he almost certainly would be picked up in a hover wagon and taken to a Racial and Cultural realignment centre, and then who knows what.
As Martin pulled out of his garage in his state of the art hover car he pondered the argument put forward by so many dissidents, that seeing as cultural convergence had meant that by the early years of the 23rd century no noticeable differences in skin pigmentation remained in existence and all humanity was now a sort of grey then that surely all racism and cultural discrimation must have died.
Martin was mulling this over in his mind, "There right" he thought "All the racial and cultural controls, monitoring and enginering are completely unecessary, with evolved past that" and at this precise moment he was cut up, “You fucking charcoal mother fucker, go back to your own sector! your lot don’t belong around here, fucking Charkies are everywhere” screamed the Battleship grey, sector 97G born and bred Martin Hales.
Martin was very upset; he had lost his ethno-statement of reference and licence or ESTORAL as they where more commonly referred to and although he had been repeating slightly differing versions of the printed statement contained on the back since the age of four he just could not for the life of him remember the exact wording in its current form without the help of his little laminated card for reference.
And with out these words to protect him, this put him in the most dangerous position possible, he might actually offend someone my making a statement that could be classed in some form or another to be RACIST. In truth the little card supplied by the world government to all citizens when they reached the age of four had long become an emotional attachment to Martin in the same way that a small child would become emotionally invested in a comfort blanket. Martin needed his ESTORAL, so being without it meant he felt doubly insecure, as if the thought of being dragged off to one of the cities many Racial and Cultural realignment centres wasn’t terrifying enough.
Somewhat dejected Martin stood in the middle of his kitchen dressed only in his under pants and distractedly started to prepare his breakfast of grey toasted bread and jam. Martin really hated grey bread, the government scientists who developed the recipe had managed to create something with the texture of brown bread and all the nutrition of white bread and with the taste of neither, which considering the many billions spent on creating a racially neutral food stuff it seemed a shame they had only really managed to produce a form of semi-digestible cardboard.
Martin shook himself from this revolutionary thinking and reiterated to himself that the great need for a racially undefined breakfast food stuff was crystal clear, after all it had been a breakfast meeting between two world leaders in 2119 that subsequently lead to an argument over the merits of white as opposed to brown bread that then escalated into the starting of the first ethno wars.
Martin sipped on his morning coffee which he took grey as incidentally did everyone on the right side of the law following the banning of white and black coffee (some people in the pro choice movement still resisted) which was brought about as a direct consequence of the Kenco riots of 2141. On his second or third sip a memory from the night before leaped into his consciousness and he knew immediately where his ESTORAL card was, Jesus why did he have to open his big mouth.
Memories flooded forth, how could he have been so stupid! It must have been all the beer on an almost empty stomach, shit the portions at the Café Biege where pathetic yet surprisingly expensive. Drunk, that was the only reason to explain why he said at the top of voice, “I quite like this African-Acid-House-Funky-Jazz”. The room which had been pulsating with music went deathly silent as everyone stopped what they where doing and just looked at Martin with a mixture of pity and contempt.
Everyone at work would know, and if he didn’t send of his ESTORAL and plead guilty too expressing a cultural preference someone would be sure to report him and he would get more than the mandatory three points added to the penalty section on the front of his ESTORAL and then he almost certainly would be picked up in a hover wagon and taken to a Racial and Cultural realignment centre, and then who knows what.
As Martin pulled out of his garage in his state of the art hover car he pondered the argument put forward by so many dissidents, that seeing as cultural convergence had meant that by the early years of the 23rd century no noticeable differences in skin pigmentation remained in existence and all humanity was now a sort of grey then that surely all racism and cultural discrimation must have died.
Martin was mulling this over in his mind, "There right" he thought "All the racial and cultural controls, monitoring and enginering are completely unecessary, with evolved past that" and at this precise moment he was cut up, “You fucking charcoal mother fucker, go back to your own sector! your lot don’t belong around here, fucking Charkies are everywhere” screamed the Battleship grey, sector 97G born and bred Martin Hales.
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