Fellini Slow Roll

By Pauly
Los Angeles, CA

I was searching YouTube for a random documentary by an Italian filmmaker and I came across this clip. It's simply titled "poker movie" and it looks like a scene from a random indie flick. The dialogue is in Italian without subtitles and I need Vinny the Barber to help translate it for me. The black and white film and poor lighting gives the flick a noir-like quality. Fellini would be proud.


Nasty slow roll if you ask me. Proper ending. Most pros I know actually wake up on park benches after they go busto.

UNVEILED: Cosmo's Restaurant Line-Up

Well, I guess it's going to open after all.

For the first time in its tortured history, the $4 billion Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas has some actual news of the kind that suggests there will, at long last, someday be tourists to be served in the place. It's that sinuous grey-black building wedged between CityCenter and Bellagio, in case you didn't know, and it's presently slated to open later this year. It's got 3,000 lodging units but it's unclear whether there will be a condo component anymore, as originally planned. (The resort's website refers to "hotel and condo-style accommodations.")

All that may be unclear, but I've got for y'all this morning a list of restaurants expected to take up residence at Cosmo:

* Scarpetta, an Italian place from chef Scott Conant, which was supposed to go into the bankrupt and stalled-out Fontainebleau up the street. This is clearly Cosmo's crown jewel as the New York version of Scarpetta got three stars from the New York Times and New York magazine, was named by Esquire as one of the best new restaurants in America in 2008. There's also one in Miami at the Fontainebleau there. Conant also is doing an as-yet unnamed wine bar at Cosmo.

* Blue Ribbon from Bruce & Eric Bromberg. It's hard to tell what the menu will be because the Brombergs own eight locations in Manhattan and Brooklyn, including two sushi places and two brasseries.

* Comme Ca, a French brasserie (so Blue Ribbon will be sushi?) from chef David Myers, left, who has one in Los Angeles, too.

* Estiatorio Milos, a fish place with Greek influences from Costas Spiliadis, who has a place of the same name in New York, Montreal and Athens.

* STK, the requisite steakhouse, from the hospitality firm The One Group, which has STKs in New York, LA and Miami as well. [Note, The One Group's site also lists a restaurant called Yi for Vegas and something undefined called SHH!!. It's unclear if "SHH!!" is just a placeholder or an actual name of something. Those venues, whatever they are, are not to occupy Cosmo, I'm told.]

I'm impressed for one simple reason: They're all new to market. CityCenter has presented a terrific array of restaurants, but only a couple were from chefs who weren't already at Bellagio or aren't called Wolfgang Puck. That said, it also does not sound like the Wynn model of getting great chefs to move to Vegas and work full-time is being followed, but with sparse exceptions Wynn's the only one who's ever really been able to pull that off so I guess that's not fair.

So there you have it. There will be more and there will be a buffet as well. A good start.

Vote Eskimo

By Pauly
Los Angeles, CA


Have you submitted your 2010 WSOP TOC votes? You should vote Eskimo Clark into this year's TOC. And if you already voted, then find a way to vote again, but vote for Eskimo this time.

Vote Eskimo. Vote often.

A vote for Eskimo Clark is a vote for hope...hope that some day the TOC becomes a true test of poker acumen and a celebration four decades of champions instead of pompous popularity contest. Meanwhile a covert cold war rages between the top online poker rooms wages behind the scenes with the TOC tables the front lines of the next battle.

The WSOP Main Event used to be a lottery ticket for a shot at fulfilling the American Dream. A dollar. A dream. Well, actually $10,000 and one lofty dream. But the alluring dream became too popular. The WSOP became over run by dream chasers. The entire industry benefited from the cancerous growth and popularity of the Main Event, but the spirit of the event has become lost. Benny Binion originally hosted biggest pissing contest among the best pros in the world. At the time, the pioneers of competitive gambling could barely fill three tables. Who in their right mind would cough up $10,000 in the early 1970s to play against shady Texans and aging mobsters?

Postmodern Las Vegas. Disney World for Adults. The Main Event is fantasy camp, sort of like venturing out on an African safari where the animals walk right up to your jeep. Every year, they keep coming. UIEGA. Doesn't matter. Economy in the sitter? Who cares. Swine Flu? Who gives a fuck, give me an aspirin, and shuffle up and deal.

I got paid good money selling the Moneymaker Dream the last five years, even though it does a really good job selling itself but I can't tell the people who pay me that -- otherwise I'd have to figure out some other way to pay for my herbal supplements.

From an entertainment perspective, the lack of star power at the Main Event final tables affects ratings. You can't fix a televised major tournament like professional wrestling where the good guy meets the villain at the final table. The sheer numbers of entrants, the integrity of the WSOP and ESPN, compounded with the fickle nature of luck produces a lackluster final table with one random pro and eight unknown players. That has been a standard formula the last few years.

One of the driving forces behind the November Nine was that the final table delay allowed the industry to fabricate the next batch of stars, since odds were against them of getting three or more household names at the final table. I can only imagine in a boardroom somewhere, one of the ring leaders of the military-industrial-entertainment-poker complex (MIEPC) is looking at the November Nine chip count while screaming, "If we don't have any stars at the final table, then god dammit, we'll make new stars!"

And that's where I come in, along with the rest of the media who get compensated generously to hype up the November Nine and brainwash you into thinking that those nine players are the coolest thing to hit poker since rakeback. By the time the public catches up with the Main Event episodes on ESPN, the MIEPC hopes that the masses actually give a shit about the story lines and become enamored with the new stars that we made from scratch, like fresh blueberry muffins right out of the oven. It worked. Ask Dennis Phillips.

Vote for Eskimo. Why not? The entire TOC is a friggin' joke anyway, besides he deserves an opportunity to redeem himself. We all make mistakes in life, even Eskimo. Shouldn't he get a second chance? Yes.

A vote for Eskimo is as anti-establishment as you can get. I showed you how the system is rigged. The hippies in 1968 were bold enough to stand up for their beliefs and change the rigged system even though it meant that they'd get their heads bashed in by fascist cops.

So here's your chance to buck the system -- without getting drenched by a water cannon and your nuts stomped on by a stormtrooper. All you have to do is vote for Eskimo.

In fact, vote for Eskimo and a bunch of 20-something year old. As the saying goes (all of you Baby Boomers and hippies know it), "Never trust anyone over 30." Yep, I'm voting for Eskimo, Annette_15, OMGClayAiken, and all of the online kids. It's time to put some of these unknown faces in front of millions. After all, they are already underground stars among the online poker community. Middle America (and parts of Canadia) hasn't seen them yet, shit, at all.

You have power. Use it wisely. A vote for Eskimo is a vote for a better tomorrow.

The future is in your hands.

Monday Morning Link Dump: Happy (Belated) Birthday to Wicked Chops Poker, Whataburger Fights, Private Equity, and Reclusive Math Geeks

By Pauly
Los Angeles, CA


Sorry folks. I'm recovering (once again) from a March Madness hangover. We're down to four teams, my bracket is shot, and I'm barely above water. Anyway, here are a couple of tid bits (even a few poker-related stories) to masticate on during this fantastic Monday Morning...
Wicked Chops Poker turned five years old. Seems like just yesterday I met those hipsters for the first time at the 2005 WSOP Main Event... due to limited space on the floor of the Amazon Ballroom, the WCP gang set up shop behind a plasma monitor where the ESPN crew displayed the overhead flop cam for the featured TV table. That's always one of my favorite WSOP and WCP memories -- along with the hooker ODing in room 1417 at the Palms. We'll save that story for next year's birthday greetings. Let's hope we both can stick around for another five. (Wicked Chops Poker)

Amy Calistri sounds off on private equity and a few other financial matters in... The Wall Street Shell Game, and is Frugality So Wrong? (Aimlessly Chasing Amy)

I love it when two old ladies sue each other over winning the lottery. This is not a Shirley Jackson short story but the real life adventures of two sisters feuding over winning powerball numbers. (The Die Is Cast)

Speaking of wacky Ruskies, here's an intriguing story about Grigori Perelman, one of the world's brightest mathematicians who solved Poincaré's conjecture, the most difficult math problem of the 20th century. It took almost 8 years to prove his work before he was awarded a prize of $1 million by the Clay Institute. The reclusive genius declined the money and the prestigious Fields Medal. When a reporter attempted to interview Perelman he screamed, "You are disturbing me. I am picking mushrooms." I almost expected him to scream, "Fuck you taking eight years to pay $1 million. I'm playing online poker now and can make that in a weekend." (Huffington Post)

Only in Texas. I should say... only at a Whataburger in Texas. Thanks to my British colleague, Chris Hall, who pointed out this hysterical video of a drunk dude getting his ass handed to him at Whataburger. (dlisted)

Speaking of fights, visit Tao of Pauly (aka Tao of Hockey Fights) for a couple of fisticuffs involving Patrick Roy. (Tao of Pauly)
That's it for now. And if you're still suffering from a case of the Mondays, I suggest booze, weed, and/or pills.

Best of Tao of Poker: March 2010 Edition

By Pauly
Los Angeles, CA


March featured an unexpected and drastic makeover for Tao of Poker and we finally got settled in to the new digs. If you missed the old template which featured a month's worth of clutter on one page, then this post is dedicated to you. Here's a quick recap of some of my favorite posts from this month...
Top 10 Ways to Annoy Chat Beggars - Give into your fervent desires and fuck with the brokedicks on the rail.

Through a Glass Darkly: The Search for Islidur1 - A mock-interview with the abstruse Swedish high stakes pro.

Vans Vote for 2010 TOC; Tao of Poker's Picks - This includes a few illustrious Top 5 and Top 10 lists of distinguished players you should consider voting for.

Lucky - A pedantic re-visitation of an old theme. This excerpt missed the cut for the final draft of Lost Vegas.

White Man's Burden - Phill Hellmuth and Tony G - A Rudyard Kipling poem accurately described the hijinks of The G and Hellmuth.

The Return of the Sun King - Bonus whoring, Big Deuce, and grinding online to fund my intrepid summer adventures.
You can always check out the Best of Tao section to read (or re-read) some of your favorite posts over the years.

March Madness: Elite 8 - Sunday Picks

By Pauly
Los Angeles, CA

Well, yesterday was ugly, dreadful, atrocious, and sickening. I went 0-2, along with a slew of bettors, but I at least saved a semblance of sanity when I faded G-Rob's sure thing (betting the OVER instead of the UNDER in the Kentucky/West Virginia game). Sorry, Bub, but thanks for the fade!

What can I say other thank Kentucky cannot shoot treys inside the Carrier Dome. I wish I paid more attention to that fickle stat before I placed my wager. UK shot something like 6-50 over the last two games from beyond the arc. Most UK fans will tell you that they dreaded this matchup versus West Virginia the day that the brackets were released. They knew that West Virginia stood in their way of a return to the Final Four... and Huggins' crew did exactly that.

Oh, and fuck Butler, man. Jesus, the Indiana boys are living out a real Hooisers tale. Butler's rigid trapping scheme kept Kansas State's guards in check. Kudos to them for shutting down my main man Jacob Pullen, who had bailed my ass at least twice this year. Looks like Butler are truly the real deal.

Today? I have no clue as per usual. I made my picks for Sunday's games on Friday night. I like Michigan State and Duke to both win by a little. Yep, I'm gonna stay on the Baylor bandwagon.

Click here to see Sunday's Elite 8 picks.

Fade me. Bet with me. Cheer me. Ridicule me.

I'm cool with all of the above. That's it for now. Good luck today.

Searchlight Or Bust, The Wrap


I'm not even sure what this lady is supposed to be, to be honest, except maybe ridiculous?

Well, I had quite a lot of snarky fun on Twitter about my Saturday adventure heading 50 miles south to Searchlight, Nev., to cover the big Tea Party put on on in/near Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid's hometown. I netted 40+ new followers thanks to Eclectablog's citation on DailyKos.


For more straight-up coverage, check out the Las Vegas Sun and Review-Journal, that of my pal Kathleen Hennessey now of the L.A. Times. Also full of snark and insight was, as always, Jon Ralston. Who to ignore? CNN, whose anchor Fredericka Whitfield said "at least dozens" were there when any sane person could see there were thousands. And here's my entry for AOLNews.Com. The cops estimate 8,000 were there, by the way.

Anyhow, I had decided, rather than drive my piece-o-crap down there, to pay $20 for a seat on one of the charter buses being arranged by some folks out of California. I wrote to the e-mail that was heavily promoted in the Review-Journal and that massively popular (?) Nevada News Bureau site. I also got there early, figuring there'd be a big hoard. Turned out, there was, uh, one bus. And I was one of 13 people on a 75-seat bus. Apparently, everyone else decided to drive themselves.

That said, I did enjoy the ride, if only because I got to Tweet about the huge guy who ate a box of a dozen doughnuts by himself in about 15 minutes of riding and how useful socialized medicine will one day be for his diabetic ass. Here's the box, you disbelievers:


Doughnut Fatty was also reading "The 5,000 Year Leap," some 1981 book on protecting constitutional freedom that's No. 115 right now because Glenn Beck's been shilling it on Fox.

One stunner was that the bus driver declared his support for Harry Reid. He reasoned that a small state like Nevada needs his seniority and, when challenged about what Reid had done for the state from riders, he went into a whole thing about how he saved the state from Yucca Mountain. The riders were stumped but respectful. I was in awe of the driver's guts.

Once we arrived, though, there would be no dissenting opinions. Just a lot of signs and speeches saying essentially the same things:


Two thoughts here. (a) Texas, you're welcome to go at any time, and (b) Isn't it neat that Puffy's an animal lover?

Speaking of license plates, just wondering if I'm missing something. I hitched a ride home from Searchlight with freelance photog Isaac Brekken so I could get back faster and write, and we saw this and had no idea what it was supposed to mean. Anyone?


Lots of folks may mock these people -- including me, because it's in my nature -- but the event went off without any violent or racist incidents. My Tweets were merciless, but my report for AOLNews.Com, I hope, provided a fair representation of what happened: People got together to express their political views.


OK, with a healthy dose of media-bashing. Which is funny because, like other irrational hatreds, these people seemed to really like the reporter they got to speak to:


When I introduced myself to one sweet lady for an interview and told her I was with AOL News, she lit up: "Oh, I love your paper!" How, uh, nice!

Could this be why there was no violence?


But, seriously, how can people who do this...



...expect not to be teased? I mean, they took the song "New York, New York" and reworked the lyrics so that it went "These O-bah-mah bloooze, are melting away...". And they had KICKLINES, see?


There was a fleet of planes skywriting messages above and this was utterly distracting. GOP gubernatorial candidate Brian Sandoval, who is actually the odds-on favorite to win at the moment, lost his speaking time to a crowd so transfixed by this...


...that they cheered to the heavens and chanted "Vote Reid Out" so loudly that all Sandy could do was pretend he was leading the chant.

Of course, nobody was distracted when Palin appeared:


She made the requisite jabs at Obama for using the TelePrompTer so much, then read her speech off a page as if that's actually different. She insisted that when she tells the crowd, "Don't retreat, reload!" that she's not making a gun reference. And she gave voice to the principles of her audience in support of lower taxes and smaller government and out-of-control health insurance company. Still, she was a vastly improved presenter than she was when I covered in the fall of 2008. And she even gets to keep the clothes now!

What was sort of amazing was that it wasn't Palin or Nevada Gov. Jim Gibbons or even Vegas radio wackadoodle Heidi Harris who came across as nuts, it was self-described "middle-class media mogul" Andrew Breitbart. The guy was not only completely off the wall but totally into himself, blathering on about how he's offering $100,000 to the United Negro College Fund if the black House members who were called "nigger" last weekend could prove it. Breitbart, right, went on about how the Democrats were the real racists and that this is why he left the party in 1996 which is so strange because I don't recall any big racial scandals in 1996 surrounding the Democrats, do you?

And finally, one of the funnest parts to me was that several speakers insisted the racial taunts against the House members never happened but not a single one repudiated the homophobic slurs visited upon U.S. Rep. Barney Frank. That, evidently, is just fine.

March Madness: Elite 8 - Saturday's Picks

By Pauly
Los Angeles, CA

The moment you have all been waiting for... here are my Elite 8 picks for Saturday's game.

Talk about a grueling Friday. I whiffed in the first batch of games; I only had a small hedge bet on St. Mary's, but I seriously miscalculated Ohio State's ability to rebound, ergo Tenn wiped the boards clean. After a dismal 0-2 start on Friday, I did what any sane bettor would do... double down! I doubled my bet size on the second batch of games (a small bet on Michigan State turned into a medium-sized bet and a medium bet on Duke became a BIG bet). Both of those teams prevailed digging my ass out of a hole and making up for Thursday's losing big bet.

I'm back on track, and then some, with the a mere eight teams left standing. Hopefully, I won't blow my roll today.

Feel free to bet on the games over at SportsBook.com. They accept US players.

Good luck. Godspeed.
Disclaimer: these picks are for entertainment purposes only. After all, gambling is illegal in some areas and Tao of Poker is not a registered investment adviser or broker/dealer. Readers are advised that the material contained herein should be used solely for informational purposes. Tao of Poker does not purport to tell or suggest which games that readers should wager for themselves. True gamblers should always conduct their own research and due diligence and obtain professional advice before making any investment decision. Tao of Poker will not be liable for any loss, damage or dissolution of marriages caused by a reader's reliance on information obtained on Tao of Poker. Readers are solely responsible for their own investment decisions and for bringing their own beer.

March Madness: Sweet 16 - Friday Picks

By Pauly
Los Angeles, CA

Use at your own health risk. Here are my picks for Friday's Sweet 16 games.

I got super lucky last night when Kansas State bailed me out in 2 OTs. Otherwise, I would have had my ass handed to me.

I will be snarking it up on Twitter during tonight's games if you're looking for alt-commentary.

Good luck.

Pictorial: Inside Vegas' Gehry


I took a tour of the Cleveland Clinic Lou Ruvo Center for Brain Health the other day in advance of a feature about the project. The media has largely ignored the actual science and medicine that the project represents, obsessing instead over the seemingly blasphemous notion that Frank Gehry designed something for Vegas. My piece, I'm hoping, will put those parts into balance.

But, since this is a blog and so many of you are design-obsessed, I thought I'd share a little. Above is the not-yet-done events room under the swoopy Gehry dome that looks like this from the outside:


The project is just west of downtown, across from the World Market Center and up the street from the outlet mall. Even as we walked around it, there were people on traffic islands taking photos. Quite a draw.

The events center will be home to symposiums, meetings, concerts, fundraisers, that sort of thing. They'll rent it out -- it's got a full kitchen and, of course, the liquor support of founder Larry Ruvo's Southern Wine & Spirits -- to help fund the research and patient care operation.

Lest you're worried that addled brain-disease patients will be confused by such a busy design -- and I've had one editor so far who was convinced that was an issue -- here's what the place looks like from the parking lot.


See? It's just a four-story building. Patients come in, they're greeted by volunteers who take them to the second floor where they are taken directly into patient suites. They've cut out the waiting room because they don't want early-stage Alzheimer's patients to be freaked out and horrified by the often unruly behavior and physique of late-stage patients. Kinda brilliant, really.

Anyhow, the inside of the building is also Gehry's design. I thought these lamp fixtures, for instance, fit really well into the overall inside-the-head concept going on around here.


I'll be working on this one next week. Will post when it's published. I believe the events center will be opened in a month or two.

Friday Is For Funnies


That's Jack, making his mark on a sensational landscape shot from a cliff in Jerome, Ariz., when I was on an early-February reporting trip to Prescott. He's so proud!

As you can see, I've been saving up my little amusements. This one yesterday morning, a bizarre Tweet from @LasVegasLisa of KTNV, the ABC affiliate here, is what KVBC Executive Producer Miles Smith, aka my spouse, would call a Tease Gone Bad:


I didn't watch but I'm hoping against hope that they did NOT give voice on the air to the wackadoodles who think death threats are peachy keen. Lisa Tweeted back at me a few times, trying to encourage me to come to the KTNV Facebook page where, I guess, a serious, important debate was raging over whether destructive illegal activity is an appropriate means of expressing political anger. This is how the mainstream media thinks it can remain relevant these days. Yo, Lisa, how about next week we do this: "Are pedophile priests really bad for your kids? Hash it out on our Facebook page!" Hey, everyone's opinion deserves respect, right?

This may be an awkward segue from wackadoodles -- or not, depending on your point of view -- but I'm off to Searchlight, Nev., tomorrow to cover the big Tea Party in Harry Reid's hometown. Searchlight is really little. There's generally nothing to do there except stop at the Nugget for a cheap cup of Joe. So it struck me as funny when TripAdvisor.Com asks here...


..."Planning a trip to Searchlight?" That can't be an oft-clicked-thru pop-up, huh?

Lately I've been getting Friend requests on Facebook from other Steve Friesses. You see, we were all told as we were growing up that Friess is a rare name. It made up for the annoying difficulties we Friesses have had spelling, especially for those of us who have troubles with S's. This is generally how the valet dudes end up getting it:


Anyhow, I got over my impression that I was rare, at least name-wise, a while ago when, uh, I first used an Internet search engine. There's a Friess Lake in Wisconsin, a Friessland in Belgium and a prominent investment banker and GOP activist, Foster Friess, who has a wife Lynn (I have a sister Lynn) and a son, Steve. I've even been in touch on and off with a Steve Friess who once asked if he could use something I wrote for USA Today as his own for some academic purpose. No, really.

But apparently other Steve Friesses are just getting hip to our growing ranks. And this, anyhow, this is a long way around saying that THIS...


...is not me. But I'm almost "friends" with him, if that counts for anything.

One reason I am NOT that Steve Friess is because of this:

Yum on Twitpic

Covering the Fun Expo in Vegas this month -- which, in fact, was an expo overflowing of fun -- it was hard to resist tasting some free cotton candy, even at 9 a.m. It came from the latest in vending, the automatic fairy floss (look it up, it's the Australian term) machine.

The latest thing... Automated cotton candy machines!!! on Twitpic

Typically, you pay $2 for your treat. I ran into a podcast listener from Virginia who recognized me and walked me around a bit, and he said it actually costs the vendor about 8 cents for the stick and 2 cents for the sugar. Or maybe it was the reverse. I Tweeted it at the time, but I just hate trying to find old Tweets, don't you? The machine was $5,000, I think. I'm told there's one at New York-New York, fyi.

Speaking of friends, how many of you...


...fell for this?

And, while we're on the topic of Wynn, I wandered while in L.A. earlier this month into a fancy Bel Air neighborhood while trying to find the UCLA theater where Erich Bergen is in "A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum." I came across this...

So which  came first, the Vegas one or this Bel Air usage? on Twitpic

...and wondered if it predated the hotel-casino of the same name. Probably, right?

Someone in Vegas ought to, just for civic pride's sake, get the people of Yermo, Calif., to...

Whatever, yermo: on Twitpic

...tear this insult down.

Does anyone have a freaking clue what any of this gobbledegook has to do with any of the rest of this gobbledegook?


And finally, we're back to the dogs. They went in for their dental visit which, in case you're not a dog owner, is a thing where they knock out your animals, clean up their teeth and, if necessary, remove some. Jack had four teeth removed, Black had one. They came home...


...totally stoned. And before you get on me about giving them too much fairy floss, I'll have you know I would never do that. It's much too delicious to waste on them.

Link Dump: Tony G Staking Isildur1, Potheads in the NFL, Denny Crum, UIEGA, and Las Vegas Cabbie Stories

By Pauly
Los Angeles, CA


Happy Friday. Here are some random links to keep you entertained....
Tony G offers to stake Isildur1. He also said he could play live games with a Kermit the Frog mask to hide his true identity Good lord, what good could come from this? Isildur1 can run up a stack but he implodes every time and Brian Hastings vacuums up the last of his roll. (Party Poker Blog)

Since we're on the subject... Luke Schwartz outs Isildur1 and reveals the Swede's true identity, but nothing shocking here, he's simply telling us the obvious. (Poker Player UK)

Oh, if you didn't know, The G responded to a recent Tao of Poker post involving him, Phil Hellmuth, and a Rudyard Kipling poem. Read The G's reactions in Pauly's Pen. (Tony G Poker)

Heart-warming video of little girl asking former Louisville hoops coach Denny Crum to recant his worst bad beat story. Crum tells her something that happened during the WSOP. (Pokerati)

I don't spend too much time thinking about the political stuff, but luckily my friends do. Check our Shamus' astute take on the political climate and the storm that's a brewing... Thinking About June 1 (& the UIGEA). (Hard-Boiled Poker)

Never mind the roidheads, here come the potheads! NFL is not cool with the latest batch of college players who are marijuana addicts. And hey let's overlook all the steroid and painkiller abuse, not to mention all of those booze-fueled run-ins with the law. (Sports Illustrated)

Another Cheating Scandal? Another hysterical take on multi-accounters, forums, and online poker. (The Melted Felt)

MtFunkMD, my favorite Vegas taxi blogger seems to be posting regularly again. XLVII and XLVIII are must reads. (Las Vegas Cabbie Chronicles)

I'm now a contributor and west coast correspondent for Upstate Frolfer. Feels amazing to write about non-poker things once in a while. Check out my first post, a review of Chavez Ridge at Elysian Park. Ah and I have a second post titled The Pink Disc. (Upstate Frolfer)

I started a new category on my regular blog called hockey fights. I posted two recent fights from the NHL and from the minor leagues in Canada. (Tao of Pauly)
Have a fun weekend. I hope you get laid. Now get the hell out of my office.

March Madness: Sweet 16 - Thursday Picks

By Pauly
Manhattan Beach, CA

I'm out frolfing before the games begin.

Anyway, here are Thursday's Sweet 16 picks.

If you don't have a SportsBook.com account, then sign up for one right now!

What Would Dan Savage Say?

When I'm not being regaled by them as the greatest blogger in the history of Las Vegas blogging, I still religiously pick up Las Vegas CityLife because in the back, buried with all the naughty adverts, is the sex advice column of Dan Savage. It's always brutally obscene, often weird and usually bitingly funny. I've also known Dan, a frequent TV talking head on gay stuff and editor of Seattle's alt-weekly, The Stranger, for a long time through the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association.

Anyhow, there's this sleepy little column in the Review-Journal written by Steven Kalas who is a local "behavioral health consultant." He takes on people's problems and answers them, usually, in the dullest way imaginable. I rarely read it, although his piece last week ago defining porn and declaring it "a waste of a man's time" and "ridiculous" was pretty amusing.

But this week, the headline was: "Too early to worry about son's sexuality at age 12." And here's the problem Mr. Kalas considered:

My husband recently ran across some Web sites our 12-year-old son had been viewing. There were YouTube videos of Zac Efron in (the) shower, boys romping on (the) bed in underwear, cartoon characters with big pecs. While he wasn't actually viewing nudity, he was looking up all these male sites.

My question is, does this mean our son is gay? He does not have characteristics of being gay. I've always been worried since both our boys were little because their father's brother is gay.

My husband (the boy's father) is the complete opposite of his gay brother. He has manly traits, but his brother is very feminine. I don't see the gay brother's traits in my 12-year-old. But after seeing that he's been viewing these sites, I'm very concerned.


Do you feel like it would do damage to our son if my husband spoke to him about if he was gay or not? My husband said he doesn't want him to feel like his brother did (where he didn't feel accepted) and wanted to let our son know that we accepted him. I feel like this could really hurt my son's feelings if it's just maybe a case of curiosity. -- C.M., Austin, Texas

Kalas' long-winded answer is: No, it doesn't mean you're kid's gay and no, you shouldn't scare the shit out of your kid by talking to him about your findings. The columnist properly confronts the mom on her implicit homophobia but doesn't disabuse her of the notion that being gay is a sickness or "an inherent wickedness," both of which he suggests could be her motive. He does, in fact, suggests that a "good" reason for her to hope her kid's not queer is that it will deprive her of grandchildren.

I kept wondering how Savage, whose best-selling book "The Kid" is all about him becoming a dad, might react because this advice is really pretty clueless.

What should have Kalas said to this mother?

How about: Any 12-year-old boy who is consistently checking out images of Zac Efron in the shower and "all these male sites" wants dick. Period. It's as natural to him as it is for the many 12-year-old girls who view the same material. Kalas backs up his assertion that 12-year-olds really don't have a clue what they are or want with the non sequitur that a 12-year-old Kalas thought he'd marry some girl he crushed on back then. For this to be an apt analogy, though, Kalas would now be happily depriving his parents of grandbabies (his quaint word) by sharing his life with a dude. Otherwise, he thought he was straight back then and, lo and behold, he still is.

Should the parents talk to the kid about what he's looking at online? Uh, yeah. And if they do it in the right tone, the kid won't be freaked out any more than if he were a straight kid looking at pictures of big jugs. Then the kid will know that if someday he decides he wants to take a boy to the prom, you won't throw his ass out on the street like poor Derrick Martin in Bleckley County, Ga.

Oh, and since I know you're curious, here's Zac Efron in the shower. Not my taste, but I'm also not 12 anymore.


And just to be fair to all my straight male readers, I'd say the same thing if the question was a 12-year-old girl who was looking at this:


You're welcome. Especially you, Mr. Kalas. Aren't yummy pictures of sexy people just ridiculous?

The Gayest Neighborhood in Vegas?!?

Sometimes columnists, including me, insert themselves into their stories because we can be vain or lazy. This week, there was no other way. I've wanted to do something on Nevada's fake-gay-marriage thing for a while and thought maybe finding a crusty old couple in some unlikely corner of the state would make a fun piece. But it was hard to ignore that gift from the Columnist Gods, the fact that somehow I happened to live in the Fake Gay Married Mecca of Nevada and I'm Fake Gay Married. So here goes. Enjoy. -sf


Feeling good in the gayborhood
Apparently 89121 is the gayest ZIP in the state
By STEVE FRIESS

I have noticed that my local Albertson's tends to display the Froot Loops just a little more prominently than other stores in town. I’ve also peeked into my neighbors’ iTunes lists and noticed that Broadway show tunes are disproportionately popular around here, but I try not to read too much into this sort of thing. And, yes, even though Rainbow Boulevard is way across town, those colorful arcs are undeniably brighter in the skies over my house after a good rain.

But, still. I live in the gayest ZIP code in the Silver State? Really?

It sure seems that way. It’s been six months since Nevada began allowing gays to fake-marry, creating a registry that confers to same-sex couples just about all of the statewide benefits of being hitched without calling it that, because the semantics-obsessed voters decided early last decade to constitutionally bar marriage equality. I call it “fake-married,” because we’re not allowed to call it married, and it means nothing to the government, where all the real goodies lie for married couples—in the tax code, anyway.

As of last week, 1,717 couples had declared they had “chosen to share one another’s lives in an intimate and committed relationship of mutual caring” and reside together “on at least a part-time basis,” as the form reads. Nearly 300 couples a month plunk down either $50 for a boring black-and-white certificate or—as this is the state of the upsell—$65 for a colorful “ceremonial” one that looks like the sort of thing a kindergarten teacher prints out for her prized students. (Just three partnerships have been dissolved, by the way.)

Back in November, when 1,150 couples had taken this plunge, writer Alex Richards did a fun by-the-numbers box for the Las Vegas Sun, indicating that the most popular ZIP code in Nevada for gay fake-marrieds—with 50 couples registered—was 89121.

That is to say, mine.

Last week, I checked again, by obtaining the database of all the couples and their ZIP codes from the secretary of state. There were now 61 couples registered in my ZIP, including me and my partner, Miles. We’re still No. 1, with 3.5 percent of the state’s registered couples.

Huh. Who knew?

Read the REST at LasVegasWeekly.Com

The Return of the Sun King

By Pauly
Los Angeles, CA

Online poker is the simplest way to get my immediate gambling fix -- like walking down the block to the corner pub, hopping on a stool, and salivating when old Sully the bartender pours you a cold frosty one.

I didn't believe it at first. My poker spreadsheet was missing entries from February 2010. Not a single session was entered. Could that be right? It had to be a mistake. Did a 13-year-old Russian computer geek hack into my Excel files? No, that chicanery seems highly unlikely. Did I overlook a day or so? Quite possibly. I'm a midnight toker and not getting any younger. But seriously, did I not play a single hand of online poker in the month of February?

I retraced my steps and although I logged on a couple of times in February to sweat the nosebleed tables to research a couple of of my columns, I only remained a railbird and resisted the temptation to chase the dragon. I know... Rush Poker and I had an unfortunate incident... and I haven't completely repressed those demoralizing memories, but we finally came to terms with our abusive and volatile relationship. But that's not the reason why I avoided the tables.

I only had one horrendous live session in January during the annual porn convention. It as one of those Vegas nights that you want to forget, but you can never escape those traumatic episodes of suckout after suckout and rebuy after rebuy, as the carnage spilled over three casinos and it felt like I had gotten violated by a King Kong dildo. I retained a semblance of my dignity when I finally busted my slump at the Mirage at 6am against a player so drunk that he kept forgetting his hole cards.

At the start of the new year I wasn't running hot at the online tables, but at the least I was outrunning the rake which sometimes is all you can hope for. I didn't take a break to cool off or recharge -- simply, I was too busy to play. Unfettered time was something that I could only wish for, because any spare time was devoted to writing or watching the Olympics. I was bogged down with work at the beginning of February and the end of the month went towards prepping for a trip to South America for a gig.

During my month long hiatus, I supposedly had a bonus waiting for me on Full Tilt. My buddy sent me an email from Antarctica (no bullshit, he's a scientist working down there) and he emailed me to remind that FT bonuses were about to expire.

Online bonuses? Talk about the proverbial carrot in front of the fuckin' donkey. The bigger the carrot, the faster that I haul ass.

I decided to check and sure enough, I had one waiting for me. I had not played online poker over a month, but all of a sudden, I felt the itch to play like Pavlov's frothing dog with streams of drool rushing out of my mouth like tiny waterfalls. How can I pass up free money?

I shook off the dust and opened up Full Tilt. You know you haven't played in a while when you're prompted to a "new software to install" button. I moaned for a couple of minutes during the installation and then fired up a couple of short-handed 5/10 tables. I also conducted a thorough "Search a Fish" scan of the site and found one or two of my favorite donators. I was shocked that they still had money left since the last time we played together. Makes you wonder how some of the worst players around are able to fund their accounts. They must be independently wealthy and the maladroit son of an uber-rich lawyer. Hey, I don't care where the fish/donks/tards/mutts get their money -- as long as they bring it to the tables where I have a high percentage chance of winning it. I stalked the marks, joined the wait list for their tables, and returned to the grind. Before I knew it, I blazed through 50% of my bonus.

I didn't really give a shit about the bonus during March Madness. I employed the hit and run method with multiple spurts over four days, specifically during innocuous games when I had no financial attachments to the outcome.

I've been dangerously dabbling with Rush Poker PLO. Man, that's flirting with doom, sort of like the weekend warriors who limit their cocaine usage to the weekends. They stumble into the office on Monday mornings with bags under their eyes and a nasty case of the sniffles. But I've been good about it. I try to double or triple up and then log off and sit out for at least 24 hours before I plunge into the darkness once again.

My recent March Madness binge included a confluence of sports betting, online poker, and heads-up Big Deuce against Change100. We're closing in on almost 500 hands, which is a significant considering that we play on average of 20 hands a session (roughly 40-45 minutes). We played about 50 hands/day since we began keeping score. I complete a sick sick sick comeback after trailing for 192 straight hands. You have no idea what it felt like to finally break even and take the lead!


We both got addicted to Big Deuce when Rey introduced us the game in Uruguay. I re-introduced the game to the G-Vegas crew during Mastodon Weekend and they also succumbed to the addictive nature of the Big Deuce, probably because of the tremendous variance. One moment you're up 50 points and three hands later, you're only up by 3 and on the verge of losing your mud and overall lead. Big Deuce requires some skill, but at the core, it is a hardcore relentless action game where the momentum swings back and forth.

I would be playing more online poker if it weren't for my affinity to Big Deuce. But I need to start playing more online poker in order to fund my summer vacation after the WSOP. I have trips planned to Berkley, CA and Telluride, Colorado along with a few other weekend excursions. I'll have to fly a lot this summer much to the dismay of those granola-eating eco-freaks, which is to say that my American Express bill is going to be quite hefty in the upcoming months.

I spent all of my Dream Team Poker winnings, but nothing degenerate like pissing it away in a PLO cash game in Moscow, or blowing it in the pits shooting dice with TJ. Rather, I used my poker winnings to fund creative endeavors and my favorite hobbies. More than half of the winnings paid my rent when I took off the last part of 2009 and the first two months of 2010 to finish Lost Vegas. I used the remainder of my winnings to fund an insane three-day long Halloween party in Palm Springs and an epic four-day blowout in Miami to end the year.

I'm not counting on an unexpected score like last summer's Dream Team victory with Tao of Pokerati. Rather, I'm going to grind out the necessary income over a period of six months. With March Madness, online poker, and playing more cash games in Vegas during the WSOP -- I could theoretically pay for at least 50% of my summer vacation. And if I do really well for the rest of March Madness, I might be able to cover 90% of my expenses.

I'm a staunch proponent of bankroll management, especially reinvesting in your roll, but sometimes you have to have faith in yourself and your abilities at the table to win money with a specific purpose in mind -- a new monitor, buy-in for a WSOP event, trip to Hawaii, or braces for Sally.

Whatever your goal may be, best of luck. I often forget how fortunate we really are to have an outlet where we create financial wealth from nothing -- and to have been able to do so without risk of imprisonment from the federales. Not to sound too corny, but online poker can truly make our some of our dreams come true. Well, maybe not all of your dreams, but you can definitely buy a bunch of cool stuff. Right?

Exclusive First Look: Wynn Philly

[[PHOTO REDACTED]]

Up until just now, this post included an image of a rendering of Wynn Resorts' planned, presently unnamed $250 million Philadelphia casino. This is what the Philadelphia Inquirer editorial board, sight unseen, predicted would be a "down-market," "low-budget" grind joint so "cheesy" that "it's not even clear that Wynn will put his full name on the joint."

Where'd it go? Well, funny thing, that. I shot that photo right in front of Steve Wynn, who laid out many renderings of the planned casino and specifically told me that the one that mattered was this one. He watched me shoot the photo. But apparently he did not realize that I planned to publish it and has now asked me to remove it. Evidently, there has been a great deal of consternation caused with the Pennsylvania Gaming Commission over the fact that I got this up before they got to see it.

Because Mr. Wynn asked me to and acknowledged to me a "gross misunderstanding," I've granted his request. Lord knows that, the image having been up for five days, others have shot screen shots of it and Google has cached it. So if you're really motivated, it's still out there somewhere.

Since I've removed the image, let me at least describe it. It showed a low-slung, sprawling building with the Wynn logo on a front lawn beyond a porte cochere. That's important because the Philly Inq claimed Wynn would build something he'd be so embarrassed by he wouldn't even put his name on it.

The architecture and exterior design is essentially a reiteration of the podium-level look of his latest luxury resort, Encore Macau, which opens in April.


Pay attention in this image -- used with permission from MacauTripping.Com and furnished by "Ace Macau" -- to the brown conic eaves to the right of the porte-cochere. The Philly design is identical. And Encore Macau, Wynn insisted, is "the most beautiful building we've ever done." (I hope someone's covering the ears of Bellagio and Wynn Las Vegas so their feelings aren't hurt.) More terrific pix from Ace Macau are on MacauTripping.Com.

As I Tweeted, I spent some time with The Steve that day. We actually planned to continue the proper interview component soon because we really only covered art, family and politics today before he had another appointment. And don't worry, podcast listeners, Mr. Wynn clearly consented to the use of these discussions for the show as well as for my other work. In fact, he even told me at one point, "I know you're a Twitterer," which means that the official Wynn Twitterer, Ms. Jade Bailey-Assam, has made tremendous strides in the New Media Education of Mr. Wynn.

Wynn was in a terrific mood, having just been through a lengthy and miserable series of back and knee surgeries that he believes are now behind him. I arrived at his office, where I expected our interview to take place, but I then was driven in a $350,000 Maybach to the villa where he and his girlfriend, Andrea Hissom, live. (She was away.) This meant driving out the South entrance, onto the Strip and then behind the resort to a driveway by the Wynn golf course. Yes, walking would have been easier but certainly less fun.

While I was waiting before I took this little ride, I took note of what lies on the coffee table of his corporate headquarters waiting area: the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, Review-Journal, Slots Today, a big photo book on Los Angeles, a book of Pulitzer-winning photos and a book of pictures of Chinese people on bicycles! There are always little yummies there, too:

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There's a book curio cabinet, too, but the image I Tweeted was blurry and worthless. It's populated by lots of tomes on China and art. This, below, is the only image of Wynn in the waiting area, taken in 2008 by a rather famous photographer whose name I took note of but simply can't recall now. Love the antique slot machine, too.


The only interior image of Wynn's villa I shot was this one (below) because he told me I could take it of the art, the famously damaged-and-fixed "Le Reve" by Picasso and a second Picasso to its right.

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Last time I was in Wynn's office, back in late 2008, Le Reve was displayed prominently. But now there's something else there. This:


That is a Rembrandt self-portrait that, until this post, Steve Wynn had never publicly acknowledged owning. [See his non-denial denial to the New York Times.] He bought it for $33.2 million last year and attempted to keep it a secret. He and I had a lengthy discussion of art and his collection which will be part of what airs on "The Strip" in about a week.

Wynn specifically asked his assistant to take me back -- via Maybach - to his office so I could see it. I was equally intrigued by this, displayed below the Rembrandt:


That's a first-edition collection of Carl Sandburg's four-volume "Abraham Lincoln: The War Years." What intrigued me about this is that I'd never known Wynn to be a collector or aficionado of rare books before and I wonder if it's a new interest. I found this link, which indicates it's worth $1,250. My instinct is that it was a gift; I'll be asking tomorrow.

One more tidbit from the villa was that -- check it out -- he has a dog run:


I suppose it makes a lot of sense as he has those two highly trained German Shepherds that both protect him and keep him company. His older one, Paolo, died last year, so he's been replaced.

Want to know how good a mood Wynn was in today? We returned from the Country Club Restaurant where we had lunch and he asked if I wanted, uh, a lollipop. Amusingly, with my hearing disability, I thought he was asking his housekeeper where he had put his "Steve's Lollipops." That cracked me up, that he refers to his candy in the third person. In actuality, he had a jar of...



...See's lollipops. I told him what I had misheard and he found that amusing. "No, no, they're not my lollipops," he said. "They're Warren Buffett's."

This remark completely confounded me until just now.