Poker Gods And My Sins

*NOTE* This was written a few days ago, I just forgot to post it!

From time to time a ship passes through the sea that does not satisfy the standards or wishes that King Neptune has set forth. A cocky “unsinkable” ship partying and playing loud music all night may pass through, depriving him of his beauty sleep. He says nothing, he only throws an iceberg or two in the way and instantly the problem is solved. Other times he may conjure up a few storms, destroying all those who have not appeased him and have disturbed his kingdom. He’s sending parts of Katrina towards my direction as we speak. I always thought Neptune and I were cool, but perhaps I did do something to upset him, and he is going to shoot a few warning flares in my direction to let me know. If my cable goes out I’ll get the message loud and clear.

This got me thinking of how I must have pissed off many Gods in my days. Of course, my God is one. Oh how I’ve mocked him when he knocks me down and I beg for another chance, only to mess it up again. Not to mention my insensitive brand of humor I use with all my friends. Don’t get me wrong, I respect every belief and religion there is out there, no matter how ridiculous it may be. But if you’re my friend, and you are that religion, be prepared for the worst. It’s ok, you can joke on me as well. But in turn I must understand that I may have pissed off a god or two in those times.

Perhaps no God, not even Neptune with his level 5 hurricanes, is as pissed at me as the poker Gods are right now. This time I don’t know what I did, but they are seeking my blood on this one. Perhaps my comments on the “silver lining” that I saw in the clouds rubbed them the wrong way. I guess they either want it fully white or totally dark, no two tone tricked out clouds for them. Either way, I’m paying my dues now. Locked in a dungeon full of bad cards and a visit from the bad beat keeper from time to time. Their mission, as instructed by their master: “Seize him, drain his mind, body, spirit, and bank account. In return we shall fill his eyes with wonder and disgust of amazing suck outs. We shall give him a small shimmer of hope, only to dash it in the end. When he is almost at his end, pull out the empty flaps of his pockets and use them as reigns to ride his damned poker soul to the pits of hell.”

Such has been my weekend. Loss after loss, proving my theory of “even at my worst, I’m even” to be wrong. But I’m thinking all the poker Gods wanted was for me to admit my wrongs, for as I write this I hit a strong run and turned all the last few days losses back into a little profit. Hmm, guess the poker Gods are of a Catholic origin. So I just ask forgiveness, and I will never wrong you again, oh watchers of the poker table. Please let my cards be live, my reads be true, and my pots be big. Amen.

Converting Regularly,
Sack

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