Nobel Committee Awards House $14,000 in Winnings

The House is pleased to announce that it has been awarded $14,000 in poker winnings by the Nobel Poker Committee.  In announcing this year’s prize, Bjπrn Svkorjnjensson, chairman of the Nobel Poker Committee, explained that the prize was being awarded for “the anticipated future winnings of The House over the course of the next 178 years.  And for The House’s extraordinary efforts to diminish and demean the bonds of amity and good feeling between people.

“The House represents a beacon of cupidity that inspires the entire world to greater avarice and ill will.”

A Nobel insider also noted that, “Let’s face it, The House gets skunked for a few bucks every now and again when it comes time to tally up the dough.  This just makes the sumbitch whole.  You got any idea what mini-pretzels cost?”

“I am surprised and deeply humbled by this award,” said The House in a statement presented by Hajib, The House’s trusted manservant and batman.  “Now, who didn’t ante?  The pot’s light.”

The House invites you to gather and celebrate this award at 8:00 PM, Friday, Nov. 6 at the Storting to Get A Little Puzzled Center.

Confession

The House wishes to come entirely clean on why there was not a First Friday Poker Game on the First Friday of July.  The House recognizes that its trusted spokesman and batman, Hajib, announced that The House was taking a few days to walk the Bike Path and think about what to write in this blog.

However, The House, in truth, traveled South of the Border.  To Connecticut.  And The House strayed from the path of righteousness and sinned in its heart.

Yes, The House went to Mohegan Sun for a weekend of craps, roulette and “comped” cheeseburgers.  Lookout!

The House feels that its heart is with $1,000-a-spin thrills at the Big Wheel.  But The House will try to fall back in love with nickel-dime-quarter No-Peek  this Wednesday, July 8 at 8 PM.

Meanwhile, this twerp Sanford …

Best,

The House

My Card Is Quick

What a group!  Shakespeare doesn’t seem to work at all.  Last month’s  Game didn’t even get a quorum (although it was an enjoyable evening of conversation).  So here, per the suggestion of one of the Brethren, is some faux Mickey Spillane.  Hope it gets a better turnout (and isn’t that a comment).

It was noonish – time for my first belt of bourbon – when the frail strolled into my office.  A face you could never rip out of your memory, with a set of gams that you’d never want to.  The Lucky almost fell out of my mouth as she sashayed onto the couch and crossed those pins.

“So, dollface, where’s the game?” she said, toying with the fraying hem of her décolletage.

I instinctively reached for my heater.

“I dunno, Sweetcheeks.  What’s it to you?”

“Plenty,” she cooed.  “The Big Man wants to know where he can get in on the action.  And so do I … if you know what I mean.”

She left that last one hanging in the air.  I was getting ready to make my move right then, but that’s when Muldoon busted in the door, his .45 up and ready.

Four slugs later – two of lead in Muldoon’s gut, and two of bourbon in mine – I had things back under control.  Muldoon wasn’t going anywhere and neither was the moll, anytime soon.

I kicked my feet up on the desk, my Smith & Wesson staring her gunhole-to-eyeball.  She re-crossed her legs.  I reached for my heater again.

“So what’s this about the game,”  I probed.

“Well I heard that it was an entertaining way to spend a few hours engaging in games of chance without risking enormous sums of money. The Big Man figured he could pull down eight or ten dollars a month.  Indoor work, no heavy lifting.”

“Could be,” I opined.  “But are you willing to abide by the rule that three of a kind beats a straight flush in a three-card game?”

The dame bounced off the couch, jerking herself to full attention.  “What, are you nuts?” she growled. “The Big Man won’t play that dopey sort of game.  And neither, frankly, will I.

“I don’t really like rules, Big Boy.  Change the rules,” she purred with a sly smile, “and … maybe I’ll be back.”

Stepping crisply over the sprawled body of Muldoon, she stalked out of my life, her stiletto heels clicking down the hall.  I heard the elevator door slide open.  “Floor, miss?”  Then it slammed shut.

So, with or without the moll, we meet Friday, June  5 at 8 PM, here at the Spillane Center for Really Cheesy Prose.

Best,

The House

Fortune and Men’s Eyes

Assiduous Shakespeare scholars have in recent years discovered troves of new works by the Bard that shed new light on his life, his avocations, and his interests.  The latest issue of the literary quarterly “Avon Calling” included the following newly-found work, which was, apparently, an early draft of a sonnet later revised for publication.  The House provides it here as a public service, in case your subscription lapsed.

When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes
I alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf Heaven with my chipless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich and plush
Featured like him with cards possessed,
Desiring this man’s straight and that man’s flush,
With what I most enjoy contented least –
Yet in these thoughts myself almost chuckling
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
As I see your very conf’dence buckling,
From sullen earth, sings hymns at Heaven’s gate.

For my sweet bluff, succeeding, such wealth brings
That I scorn to change my twos for kings.

Friday, May 1, 8:00 PM here at the Northwest Suburban Boston Center for the Study of Elizabethan Drama, Poetry, and Gaming.

Best,

The House

The Boys of Autumn

As Opening Day approaches, I’m sure everyone is wondering the same thing The House is:  how the Yanks gonna make out this year?

How’s the Captain gonna do?  Has he still got it?  Does he even know where his left side is?

Are the alphabet boys – CC and AJ – gonna live up to expectations?

Is this the year Joba blooms as a starter (without the bugs)?

Can the Brettster really fill the center-field shoes of Dimagg, Mantle, Murcer, Bernie … the Melkmeister …

Has Mo got another year or two in him?

Can Jorge make the throw to second?

And, of course, most importantly: HOW DO WE GET RID OF A-ROD?  This has gotta be the worst example of a human being who has ever played in the Bronx (and The House acknowledges that’s going a ways).  What are we doing with a guy like this wearing pinstripes?  Compare the image of Graig Nettles diving into the stands coming up with the ball and without a tooth or two with the image of A-Rod staring motionless at a foul-area popup as he struggles to decide if he will be trying to score a post-game date with Madonna or with Eliot Spitzer’s madam.

He can’t hit Kate Moss’s weight in the postseason.

If you look up “bum” in Wikipedia,,it redirects to A-Rod.

He is the living definition of “empty statistics.”

The House, as you may gather, is not enamored of A-Rod.  The House, frankly, wishes a scalpel had gone astray in his hip surgery.  About windpipe-level.

But, alas, such was not to be.

So let us gather, Yankee fans, this Friday, April 3 at 8:00 PM to consider the  prospects of our beloved Bombers.  Those few of you who are fans of other teams may choose to discuss other matters.

Best,

The House

The Dog

The House has been getting a little concerned about Oskar lately. The House dunno, but he seems to be acting a little strangely for a dog.

F’rinstance the way he insisted on shuffling the decks (very carefully, The House might add) before the last Game. And the penetrating look (vide infra) that he kept giving Brother Vandiver every time Kim picked up his cards. (As you may or may not know, Brother Vandiver CLEANED UP BIG-TIME last month.)

And the radio transmissions from the planet Zarkon that he receives on his electronic collar.  And the large deposit of Snausages that mysteriously appeared in his 401-k last month.  And the way he levitates and rotates three times before lying down instead of, you know, just circling the spot. And the way he licks himself in the most unattractive places. Oh, never mind – that’s just dog.

But perhaps when we gather again at 8 PM Friday, March 6, you Brethren can lend your perspective and insight to this conundrum that The House is wrestling with.  Maybe The House is being oversensitive.   After all, Oskar’s just a pooch.   Lying right now placidly on the floor at The House’s feet.

Sit up, boy.  I said SIT UP.  Don’t give me that stare, you miserable cur.  Why I oughtta whale the tar out[Transmission aborted]

The Downside of Winning

On the off-chance that one of you Brethren may be under consideration for a Cabinet post in the Obama Administration (Secretary of Pissing Away Time and Money, perchance?  Wagerer General?), The House wishes to provide you with important advice regarding the tax implications of participation in the Game in advance of your Senate hearings.

The Obama nominees seem to keep running aground on the shoals of the IRS, so The House consulted several leading experts to provide advice: H&R Blockhead; accountants Cheaters & Lybrand; the law firm Rumble, Wow & Flutter; and, of course, Hajib, The House’s trusted manservant, batman and tax strategist. 

The consensus is:  Brothers Dacey, Richardson, Drake, Campbell, Howe, Marshall and Halliday are gonna be in deep yogurt explaining to a bunch of humorless Senators how they “forgot” to declare their taxable winnings, which Cheaters & Lybrand estimates at more than $750,000.  The Geithner defense, which may be summed up as “Oops!”, seems no longer to be operative.

The rest of us, meanwhile, appear to be in the clear for those Cabinet slots, since we haven’t won what qualifies under the labyrinthine IRS regulations as “money.”  The House has dibs on Secretary of Whoopee.

But despair not, ye Beleaguered Brethren!  There’s always the ambassadorship to some obscure country.  Like Monaco.  Or Nevada.

Let us all join together to try to remove the stain of poker winnings from the above-referenced Brethren so they may pursue their careers in public service.  It’s nothing less than your patriotic duty to assemble at 8:00 PM Friday, Feb. 6, here at the Daschle Center for Financial Responsibility and Goofy Glasses.

Best,

The House

Blago Rules?

The House wishes to bring you up to date on the controversy over Illinois Gov. Rod Blagoyevich’s appointment of a replacement player to the Game.  As you may know from Fox News, a vacancy at the table emerged when Brother Howe decided to spend his weekends in Florida until the weather in New England becomes more salubrious (ca. Memorial Day).

In his exuberance over the opportunity to appoint a successor to former Illinois Senator, now President-Elect, Barack Obama, Gov. Blagoyevich – according to Justice Department wiretaps – evidently conceived that his authority extended to a wide number of open positions.

“I’ve got this thing and it’s [expletive deleted] golden!” Gov. Blagoyevich is recorded exclaiming.  “Anybody I put in there is gonna be able to suck eight, maybe ten dollars out of those clowns.  Every damn month!”

At this point, Gov. Blagoyevich’s wife, the demure and retiring Patti, is heard on the wiretaps suggesting that “We can [expletive deleted] take those [expletive deleted] for every [expletive deleted] nickel they have and we can [expletive deleted] roast their [expletive deleted] if I [expletive deleted] the [expletive deleted] to [expletive deleted] the [expletive deleted] in a [expletive deleted] as far as [expletive deleted] you [expletive deleted] the [expletive deleted] to [expletive deleted].  Twice.

“I want the [expletive deleted] peanut concession and the [expletive deleted] chip concession and [expletive deleted] it, the [expletive deleted] mini-pretzel concession.  And if I don’t get them , I’m gonna [expletive deleted] the [expletive deleted] to [expletive deleted] as [expletive deleted] for [expletive deleted]. [Expletive deleted] it, I’m [expletive deleted] tired of this [expletive deleted] [expletive deleted]. [Expletive deleted] them!”

Despite widespread opposition to his appointive powers, Gov. Blagoyevich gamely named Pope Benedict XVI to the vacant Howe seat at the Game, while also seeking to install Justin Timberlake as Chairman of the FCC, Chuck Norris as Ambassador to the U.N., and Big Brown to the Louisiana Racing Commission.  He is holding in abeyance his appointments to the Nobel Peace Prize Committee and the Lexington-Bedford Youth Hockey Steering Committee, waiting for higher bids.

The House  invites you to meet at 8:00 PM, Friday, Jan. 9, to determine whether His Holiness meets the high standards of membership in the First Friday Poker Game.  And whether he knows enough fart jokes.  Until our august deliberations are completed, the Secretary of the Game (Oskar) has been detailed to keep Christ’s Vicar on Earth at bay with his formidable schnozz.
Best,

The House

Bail out

Overshadowed this week by yet another bailout plea from the auto companies was the hearing on the First Friday Poker Game request – make that urgent request – for federal assistance (as The House’s lobbyist insists we refer to it).

Rest assured, The House did not make the risible error of traveling to Our Nation’s Capital by private jet to prostrate itself before the committee.  No, The House wisely chartered a private car on the Acela Express, which allowed for a diverting game of chance en route with a number of gullible passengers who stumbled into it, thinking it was the dining car.

The House did, perhaps, misstep by bringing Oskar along, as he proceeded to “nuzzle” every senator on the committee, by way of friendly greeting.  In an unseemly fit of pique, the committee refused to allow Oskar to testify.  He was prepared to offer heart-warming character references for all of the Brethren.  But he was, alas, muzzled.

However, The House made a compelling presentation of its bold, multi-faceted plan for restructuring the Game to assure its success and continued contribution to the nation’s economy:

• No more freakin’ Man or Mouse.
• John Dacey will only be able to offer his uniquely helpful comment and advice to players who are ahead on the evening (a parallel to the “uptick” rule on shorting).
• Bob Halliday must look at his cards every hand.
• Government-supervised limits on “Diamond Ben” Richardson’s compensation.

The House can only ascribe to sheer partisan politics (and, perhaps, the ill temper occasioned by nagging groin discomfort) the committee’s decision not to grant the paltry $2.4 billion The House had requested.

In light of this disappointing outcome, The House invites you all to meet at 8 PM, Friday, Dec. 5 to consider our options for joint and several Ch. 11 filings.

Best,

The House

The Grand, Statesmanlike Move

As you know, The House suspended poker activities earlier this month to allow itself to get directly involved in resolving the great crisis recently facing these United States.  The House refers, of course, to the looming possibility that the Yankees might not make it to the playoffs for the first time since the early Clinton Administration.

Now, a whole lot of people who know a whole lot more than The House about the Yanks were, in fact, working on the crisis.  But The House felt its presence was necessary to resolve this threat to our Way of Life.  The House’s slogan, after all, is:  “Think of something larger than a king-high flush.”

So, in a grand, statesmanlike move, The House suspended all poker activities and traveled to Our Nation’s Baseball Capital a couple of Saturdays ago.  The House went armed with nothing more than an open mind, good common sense, a sackful of D batteries, an M24 sniper rifle, a dozen Ninja throwing stars, and Alex Rogriguez’s “Lucky Number 13″ tattooed on The House’s brainpan.

“Mr. April, ” alas, did not appear for the game.  And the Yanks lost.  And they got screwed out of the playoffs.  And Mo Rivera is getting shoulder surgery.  And Derek missed at least three balls he would have fielded cleanly three years ago.  And they still had Giambi at first.  And they are tearing down the whole damn Cathedral, pretty much as we speak.

Having thus succeeded in resolving this crisis (at least as well as any showboating presidential candidate), The House has resumed normal poker activities.  To wit, the Poker Debate this Friday, Oct. 3, at 8 PM.  The theme will be the economic disaster (your personal one Friday night, not the nation’s).

See you here, at The House That Ruthlessness Built.

Best,

The House

P.S. – The Sox fans sprinkled among you might appreciate this photo from the 10th-Last Game Ever Played at Yankee Stadium: