Poker Bat-tering Ram in Chicago Part the Second Second

Hate to do this to you again and break up this tale into three pieces but the Bat’s gonna do it.  Where was the Bat?  The Bat just insulted parts of Philadelphia and all of Cincinnati while at his Texas Hold’em poker cash game table. Remember the Bat had declined to play poker tournaments because of the looseness of the cash games.

Marge Schott, her zombie or somebody with a great likeness to her took offense. She got glassy-eyed for a second, and though she missed the reference entirely she knew she was supposed to take great offense to this stinger and did, “Pete Rose? Who the… Pete Rose? Pete… who the fu… a child molester… a child molester? A CHILD MOLESTER!?!” Desired effect achieved. You know when you get somebody so angry they can only repeat the last thing you said, and are so flustered they can’t say anything else. The whole room turned to watch her almost scream “Child molester,” over and over again angrily with each time. She got up from the table as quickly as a grumpy, crochetedy 80 year old with a bad hip can, to make her exit.

Elderly indignation always loses its punch when it takes them 2 hours to storm out a place.

As she got about a table away, she raised one finger high in the air, turned around leveled it at the Bat with soused vitriol, fleshy, wrinkly mass instead of a tricep waggling back and forth with her unsteadiness, as she declared for the whole room to hear, “I am not a child molester!”

*Obviously, Pete Rose is not a child molester and nor does the Bat think that or insinuate that he is. Again, Pete Rose is not a child molester. Pete Rose is not a pedophile. Don’t sue the Bat. For the record nobody is saying Pete Rose is a child molester or a pedophile. Oh, and Pete Rose doesn’t wear women’s underwear either or cock fight or swordswallow or bet on baseball. Wait, maybe he did one of those things, but he’s definitely not into child-molesting. And nor is that lady in Chicago area that looks like Marge Schott, apparently.

Okay with that little anecdote a wrap, and it is a glorious anecdote the Bat realizes that. If you could have only seen that woman shouting in her stupor from the Bat’s shoes with a full pocket of cash you would have truly known what it’s like to live.

So where from there? The Bat surveyed the massive tournament area and looked at all the little sturgeon breeding from off the Great Lakes. What an assemblage of no-talent hacks. The Bat hasn’t been this unimpressed since he went looking for a bathroom near a convention and ran into Battlestar Glactica central. Besides asking what the fudge is a Battlestar Glactica the Bat saw more 40 to 6o year old men in need of the vitamin D of sunlight than he’s ever seen in his life.

Perhaps, the Bat should understand his audience better as many of you snot-nosed online players that send the Bat your steaming rants on optimal play and the Bat’s leaks, will one day be likewise albino from being attached to your laptops and desktops. At first the Bat, thought he wasn’t at a Sci-Fi convention as much as he was in a weird neighborhood of San Francisco’s finest considering how few ladies there were and how many costumes were at play.

Anyway, those Battlestar Galactica folks might have been better players than some of the Shenanigans the Bat saw on display in Chicago. Under the guise of three-betting and four betting the Bat saw idiots get it all in with two unsuited low cards. Of course, those birdbrains would usually win. That means the Bat is about to enter the tournament fray. The Bat is headed for a satellite folks and hopes to bring home the Main Event to Louisiana.

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One thought on “Poker Bat-tering Ram in Chicago Part the Second Second

  1. Perhaps, the Bat should understand his audience better as many of you snot-nosed online players that send the Bat your steaming rants on optimal play and the Bat’s leaks, will one day be likewise albino from being attached to your laptops and desktops.

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