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5-28-08 UPDATE!
Sorry for the long delay in
reposting, y'all. After last weekend's embarrassing
display of generosity and goodwill, I sank into an existential
depression
that I simply could not "Jimbo, you fool! What hast thou wrought?!"
I had created an effing
monster. And not the good kind that scares the shit out of you
at the
The monster I ended up creating
turned out to be the Sesame Street kind that sings songs Suicide became a very real option at this point.
At the depths of my despair, as
I lay in an unmade bed with a bottle of children's Motrin, a
Cobra Kai! Strike First, Strike Hard, No Mercy!
Suddenly, I understood the
complexity of life on every level! Traffic Jams, like Poker
Events, have two kinds of playas; those that are moved by decency
and kindness and those that will crush the hopes and dreams of all
who oppose them, turning their realities into nightmares and robbing
them of every last shred of human dignity they possess. It's
the law of the jungle. Every conflict needs an
antagonist
and a protagonist.
Superman isn't half as cool without Lex Luthor. If the
wildebeest are all healthy, the lions go hungry.
Last weekend was a fluke of nature. Some recessive genes presented themselves. Given the odds, it was bound to happen sometime, like my wife pulling a Q-10 the only time she touched the cards. But you know what? I have faith in natural selection and in the survival of the fittest. Go ahead and sing your hippy anthems and hold hands with Grover and Telly and Big Bird. Show your weaknesses on the plains of the Serengeti. As for myself and the others like me, we'll be waiting right on the other side of the glass for you to open the drapes, so we can scare the pee out of you before breaking in and eating your soul. Best of luck to everyone this Saturday! Copyrighted 2008 Veterinary Management Services of Minnesota; last updated 05/29/08 10:02:02 PM
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shake. I spent days hiding under the covers, refusing to leave
my bed and wondering at the source of all this 'pot-splitting'
and 'point-sharing'
hullabaloo. Were we a poker league or a sewing circle?
Is this what the LFPL was going to be all about; kindness and
courtesy, sharing pots and hosting a hippie love-in? How long
until we began each event holding hands and singing Kum Bay Yah?
movies
when the main character opens the curtains and it is, like,
right there,
like, in your face you know? And you totally weren't expecting
it, because she was just going to see what that noise was across the
street and BANG!
Big Effing Monster with Glowing Eyes
is on the other side of the glass, trying to get in the house and
scaring you into peeing your pants a little bit. Yeah...that's
effing sweet. That is what I envisioned for the LFPL. I
wanted people to pee their pants just a little bit every time they
got to the table. 
about sharing and recycling and being kind to your neighbor.
"Eff that!" I thought.
But as time
dragged on, I realized I couldn't deny reality. I began to
doubt my own existence; could it really be that my own
vicious, blood-thirsty,
cut-throat, kill-or-be-killed, devil-may-care
attitudes were that far out of the norm? What if Minnesota
Nice was more than an urban legend? What if, deep down, people
really cared about each other and couldn't bear to 'take'
a pot away from another player?
pint
of Night Train and a Ginzu paring knife, making ready to end it all,
I saw my salvation on the
KARE11
news. Some like-minded citizen on the
Highway 61
bridge got tired of waiting to merge. He climbed out of his
late model Toyota Tacoma, pulled open the door on a 1994 Buick
LeSabre and punched a 72 year old woman right in the throat for
leaving her blinker on and not turning. Effing sweet! It
was his turn to merge,
dammit, and she was
stopping him from
taking it! It
was rightfully HIS,
and this old biddy
blocked him. He
didn't like it, and he wasn't afraid to emphasize that point by
crushing the larynx of an elderly woman. 
They
need that sick, lame, limping one to straggle behind the herd so
they can show their true prowess as the kings of the Serengeti.