Poker, Poker, Poker, relax for 5 Minutes, Poker, Poker, Poker

The Bat is a crass individual, we know this. He is a steaming pile of anger, heartache, dysfunction, and Texas Holdem poker game genius. The Bat finds it aggravating that the rest of the world hasn’t recognized the complex, tortured soul that should be dominating poker at every level. Well… except for the min stakes and low stakes… and for that matter, the Bat doesn’t need to dominate the medium stakes either… well, the Bat should be dominating poker at its highest level. The nosebleeds. The rest of you can have the other levels.

Course, the Bat doesn’t have a bankroll to go all Isildur1 on the rest of the World. The Bat would like a bankroll to sit down with Phil Ivey and Tom Dwan and teach them the meaning on sitting on a pile of dynamite when the other guy is holding a lit match because that’s what it feels like when you are in a hand with the Poker Bat. You think poop goes through a pigeon quick? Try to look into the Bat’s soulless eyes as he triples barrels you to kingdom come in a Pot Limit Omaha game.

With that public safety message out of the way, the Bat is so looking forward to the Harrahs event in December. The structures are fabulous, the noted Nolan Dalla’s tournament reports are first class, and the event runs as smoothly as any does down here. The Bat thinks he could dominate the best of the rest that will populate the fields. The Bats says the best of the rest, because the rest of the best are headed elsewhere.

The World Series of Poker Satellite Circuit has seen fit to cannibalize itself and compete with itself. Why not throw a tournament in New Jersey at the exact same time, where anybody with a glimmer of hope to make the National Freeroll, will go there instead. Or Foxwoods with Darvin Moon or wherever that fellow bumpkin is hosting an event. Plus, Tunica had or is having something.

Seems like you can go most of the summer without a tournament but you can’t go a couple of weeks in the winter and spring without them overlapping. The Bat thinks these casinos should pay attention to what the rest of the world is doing. Each is too busy peeing on their piece of the snow to look over their shoulder to see where everybody else is peeing. Don’t pee into the wind or in front of others peeing. Tournament directors and casino managers must like getting wet when they go to the bathroom.

Speaking of peeing, the Bat recently played all night in a marathon high-low session and despite tossing back a few sixers didn’t pee for 12 hours. See, a half-hour into the game the Bat looked in on the bathroom and it made a truck-stop stall look like a dinner plate. Bat couldn’t tell what the different shades of gunk and funk were, so the Bat decided to pass up the ol’ WC. Then when the Bat got in his car, all at once there was a pressure like the Bat’s never felt from his kidneys clear to his firehose. Bat tried to get out of the car and get back inside or at least make it to a bush, but before he could get gone he went, if you know what the Bat means. Literally, the door was open only a second before the floodgates were.

The Bat will be cleaning his vintage car for days now. But it smells like the stairwell of the Harrahs parking garage which is oddly appropriate as that is where the Bat is headed next.

Anyway, the Bat destroyed the poker game but the poker game arguably destroyed the Bat’s car.

Poker Bat taking Heat

Okay, so Christian Bale is a polarizing figure and he’s cussing in the gif or jpg or whatever that is on the Bat’s previous post.  Uh, oh  if you hadn’t figured it out yet this Texas Hold’em poker blog is for adults.  Sure the Bat’s comedic stylings are appealing to both young and old, but if you are too young to figure out how to sneak into an R rated movie go somewhere else.  If you are sneaking into pervy movies you can go somewhere else too.  Nobody likes a pervert especially a cheap one, or so the Bat’s wife says anytime they go to the mall together.

Here’s some viewer-mail:

Bat, you bash the SEC do you have gravy for brains?  What team do you support, Centenary?  More like cemetary go take a dirt nap you douschebag and learn how to play poker before you post again.

Phil Luck, Upper Madagascar

Phil, The Bat appreciates you reading the blog.  And Robert Parish is a great American.

Bat, you philistine, gargile, dark-sided, tainted slike-kick, get out of my state.

Marguerrtie, Pontchatoula

Marguerite, is this you?  The Bat thinks he might have had a cup of coffee with you once.

Bat, your posts make me laugh, they make me cry, they make me hate you, they make me love you?  Are you really pushing 4 bills because I think I want your babies.

Trina “Floatda” Turner

Trina, the Bat says you can have his babies.  He’ll ship those freeloading do-nothings to you and pay for the postage and handling.  Bat juniors if you are reading this go get jobs, and get off the computer.

Bat, are you willing to go broke with Ace-King?

Nani, Portugal

Nani, the Bat says AK is your friend.  If you aren’t willing to ship it with that hand you shouldn’t be playing poker.  Last night the Bat was 10 away from the money in a huge multi-table tournament and the Bat raised with Ak offsuit.  A player shoved over the top and it folded back to the Bat.  The Bat was covered.  Easily the Bat could have cruised to the money by folding.  Because it was a rebuy affair, and was 4x the Bat’s investment, some of you gobhoblins would have crawl back into your nit shells and sat on your stacks.  The Bat, don’t play scared ball.  The Bat knew this was a coin-flip, Aces or Kings don’t open shove there, only scared little nit-tards not wanting to go broke with QQ and JJ. 

The Bat insta-called that turducken and saw twin red queens.  Bat makes two pair.  Other doofus gets a set.  See-ya.  Bat will do it two times today and three times on Sunday.  Bat don’t want a min-cash, the Bat is playing to win, folding AK?  In today’s world, where kids will 7bet Arag in the main event?  Come on.  Perpostorous.

Bat, when people say results oriented don’t you just want to run them over with your ‘specially engineered heavy man’s ATV? 

Bat Junior

Junior get off the computer and stay off it.  How you find your way into the Bat’s poker account every night the Bat gets black out drunk at the honkytonk and lose his bankroll requires a deviousness that could actually get you a high paying job in the real world.  Get a job son, and before you say it son, saying you got a career at blockbuster is a bit like saying cruise director on the Titanic is a burgeoning field.  Yes, results oriented is a stupid term. 

Of course, you play to win the tournaments.  You play to win the cash games, you play to win the hands.  At the end of the day, the only scorecard that matters is your bankroll.  Of course, the Bat is results oriented, as opposed to you.  You son are re-sluts oriented.  You parade the same two trashy heifers through the house every other week.  Granted, the fact you are getting some makes the Bat happy, but considering all of Arkansas has ridden one, and Mississippi the other it’s time to find a new cow or two.

Who is the Poker Bat?

Wouldn’t you like to know?  Who is this mysterious blogger that crushes Texas Holdem poker online and live, obliterates cash games yet slips in and out of the room like a teleporting poker ninja?  Of course you want to know.  Course if the Poker Bat is a ninja it is of the Chris Farley variety.  The Bat hears from one of the fellows over at GCP, that constantly undervalue the Bat’s blogs, that some of the other bloggers are asking who the Bat is.  One respected blogger even point blank asked if one of the owners was the Bat?  The Bat likes that thought.  Maybe the Bat does own a piece of GCP and is actually GeneD or Wild Bill masquerading as a much funnier, more talented, and fatter Tyler Durden version of themselves. 

Could that be true?  Will one day, one of those two say clearly “I’m (Poker)Batman!”  The Bat wonders as he often does, and yes, the Bat not only writes in third person, he thinks in it too, like a young Primetime Deon Sanders, if that day will ever come.  The Bat often thinks this thought too “God dang it the Bat is the handsome-ist tree fiddy man that ever walked this here Earth.”  Yes, that thought is on repeat.

For now, with speculation rampant that the Bat may not be who the Bat say he is, the Bat would prefer to just let things tide over.  One day when the Bat wins some big online poker tournaments he’ll announce himself to the world and that day is coming my friends, coming really soon.

Anyway, the Bat went to the IP and made a cash or two.  Not a belly flop splash worthy of drawing attention but enough that some clever detective can start narrowing a list down of possible Batmans.  Unless the Bat is lying about his success, something no poker player would ever do.  The Bat did play some cash poker and sat with the usual assortment of coastal ne’er do wells, that inspires a looseness of play, and ample opportunity to crush their very thought.  These guys bundled in their SEC school of choice matching outfits with hats, sweatshirts, t-shirts, and socks are easy victims for the Bat.  Let’s see Mr. Alabama?  Do I want to annoy you by telling you how Cam Newton will shred you like Tae-Bo?  Will that throw you off your game?  Of course it will because you tie your very identity into your football addiction, you desire to be a part of something bigger and greater than yourself is emblazoned on your tacky sweater.

Mr. Auburn, do I want to irritate you to the point of playing bad by casually mentioning your school can’t even buy a national title and despite a payroll that rivals the Yankees you are still second fiddle in your own state?  Yes, the Bat will do that because nothing offends an Auburn fan by alerting him to his Beta status.  Oh, LSU fan, congrats on not feeling self-conscious wearing Purple and Gold Zoobaz,  if our military ever needed that unique clamofloge to infiltrate an enemy we’d know just where to look.  Course our enemy would have to be a color blind gay night club.  Bat wants to get you to play bad, the Bat will just remind your coach the Mad Hatter, doesn’t have breakfast meetings because he can’t figure out how to work his alarm clock.  

Man, the Bat likes an SEC school, but he’s not going to wear it like a billboard and provide instant invitation to be tilted to insanity by merely making fun of some well paid teenagers that can’t read nor write.