i’ve already said that pokerstars is a scam.
i just want to add something – a message to their owners, their stars, and their employees:
fuck you in your hearts.
i shit in your moms’ cunts.
i hope you make a lot of money out of that fucking scam – and spend it all trying in vain to cure your kids’ cancer.
… but absolutely true.
it was 5 a.m., on a december sunday. the last three of us were leaving a friend’s home, pretty drunk. but he, the host, was more than simply drunk. he was insisting: “c’mon, guys… don’t leave… we’ll all go together, when they close…. we’ll share the cab”.
is the christmas spirit already upon us, or what.
‘wow!’
that was the US state secretary’s reaction when she got the news of gaddhafi’s death.
we’re now waiting for the official response from the white house: ‘no shit!’, or something like that.
now how’s this brighter than lewinsky’s ‘gulp!’ ?
pear computers. iPhony. mcintyre. graphic interface: the idea that allowed illiterates to use computers. the best salesman since j.c.
the 2012 catalog is here. i won’t mention the company’s name – there’s no such thing as (free) ads on this blog. i’ll just quote.
so here we go:
STORNÄS BERTIL MYDAL STENSTORP AKURUM LIDINGÖ STORÄ SAGOSTEN BISLEV STUVA LILLÄNGEN KIVIK STRIND NYFORS ÅDUM MALM MASKROS HELMER KLUBBO EKTORP TROFAS LÖVÅS NYSSE STUVA BYGEL EIVOR TIDAFORS EKENÄS HEMNES GÅSER
it goes like this for more than 370 pages. to me, it sounds like a poem. i can easily imagine it hummed by a mongol kid who’s so cold he can barely open his mouth. it goes on and on and ön and ån and än
landfill of the free, foreclosed home of the brave!
we go many years back – the years when mIRC was the funniest way to spend our night shifts together, even funnier than AoE (I) and Quake (II). he was still a student, but working already, and i had just quit my second-long job ever, except this one in the office. we were colleagues for half a year or so.
then we lost sight of each other for a couple of years, and i don’t remember how we met again. online, first – this time YM had replaced mIRC – and then, occasionally, over a coffee. but our chat had become a daily habit, lately.
in all these many years, and even after a new year’s eve together, we still aren’t what you might call close friends – there are many things, including the most basic, we don’t know about each other. and he used to be younger than i am, which added to the understanding barrier between us. i can’t explain why we kept trying to lift that barrier, and i doubt he can, too.
sadly, he just got as old as i am. not by crossing an imaginary threshold, like 20, or 30, or 40. he’s old because he’s no longer young. here’s why.
among other things, he used to be a biker. he might even still be a biker, or become a biker again, sometimes in the future. his beloved ‘lil’ sour cherry‘, a red bmw, is now a wreck beyond repair, he tells me. he had an accident, a couple of days ago, and both his arms are plastered and fixed with metal rods on the outside, fastened with screws penetrating into the bones. (absolutely hideous. i’ve seen that on patients who weren’t my friends, years ago, when i had the accident that ultimately led me to opening the office. it gives me the goose skin just to think of it. i hope to find the force to go see him some day, though i’m afraid it would almost make me cry.)
his nickname for the old mIRC was ‘nobody’. i even entered him as ‘nobo’ in my YM list, and his real name remained unknown to my ol’podna for many years. of course, there were easy jokes now and then, like the cheap title above. mIRC had this feature, allowing the users to write /me [action], which resulted in the displaying of the text ‘me action’. for instance, if your nickname were ‘nobody’, and you wrote /me asked you, the others would have seen ‘nobody asked you’.
now his accident was not that serious, it will not leave serious physical consequences on the long run. it might not be very long until he could afford another second-hand bike. he still is younger than me, in absolute terms. but he said he’s going to find another hobby, and he joked about pottery or something. it broke my heart, because i felt he just got old. he’s not legally married and he’s not a father, like i am, but neither is he a lot of other things anymore.
even if he will ride again, some day, and though he was never reckless on the road, and he was a ‘satanist’ only in our jokes – anyone who loves metal rock and rides a motorbike is implicitly a satanist, no? – he now has to worry about the new job he started just a couple of days before the accident. he must rely on his girlfriend’s and mother’s and even ‘mother-in-law’s help and care. he must consider what to do if he’s accepted to yet another, even better job for which he recently sustained an interview. when one ‘must’ so many things, one’s no longer young and free and unharmed by fear and pain.
/me felt not that old when nobody was younger
you know the famous online poker game they offer at PokerStars? the one that was blocked in the USA under charges of money laundering? well, i have the undisputable proof that PokerStars is a scam, and their software is manually corruptible so as to deal rigged hands instead of random cards.
what i’m saying is not based on probabilities and math – no such proof is possible, because no matter how improbable actual deals are, they are still possible.
i am talking about a proof as solid as obama’s proof of killing bin laden: TRUST ME. i know – it’s rigged. PokerStars is a scam. i’ll show you the evidence as soon as obama releases the pictures with bin laden dead, ok?
REMEMBER: POKERSTARS IS A HUGE MONEY-LAUNDERING SCAM. return here frequently, to be among the first wh0 see the undisputable evidence.
remember the irish lawn? well, a couple of evenings ago, we had a small party there.
little has changed since my previous visit – a couple of more buildings, here and there. a chinese in pyjamas scratched his ass in the empty space of a gate of a half enclosed yard.
so there we were – five people on a balcony, in the fresh evening, after a day between too warm and almost hot.
bourbon (or tennessee whisky or whatever jd is) was on the rocks, and beers were cold. garlic added its vigorous note to the fried chicken, sausages and home-made pickled green tomatoes.
ol’podna was relaxed like she’d not been in weeks. the 2-pound greedy turtle got bits of food in the huge aquarium. wrongname‘s pal helped him finish a cigar. i put a cap on the beers by tasting the [black] elder flavored lemonade next to a shot of limoncello.
no point in explaining what made us laugh now and then.
before midnight, all the bones had been thrown to the stray dogs and we went home.
we will someday remember the better times of our lives, when you could open a fridge and take a beer, you pushed a switch and light was on, and turn a tap and fresh water ran. when lhasa de sela kept singing after she was dead, and she didn’t mind to perform as an opening for rammstein.
yes, you can hope this will be forever and that the internet connection will only fall now and then. but hoping is one thing, and reasonable expectation is another.
