The Poker Bat is About to be Atwittering…

The Bat is going to sign up for a Twitter account to let you know his Texas Hold em poker ruminations.  Why?  Because the Poker Bat is big time.  BIG TIME.  He graduated from bwin poker school and now he’s going to consume the world.

Remember when Elvis Presley was king of Las Vegas, a guy who wore a girdle lest his sequined muffin top flop out causing his leather-esque jacket to ride up that belly, made by American staples like fried banana penut butter sandwiches and beer, and expose that gaping belly button.  Once freed it would open up a sprinkler of sweaty, stinky, belly button juice spraying outward with every hip gyration on the legion of female, formerly teenaged fans that fawned at his feet? 

When he was on stage his burly voice, stiff hair, bushy sideburns and swagger still made the ladies swoon like his torso’s containment wasn’t a miracle of innovation and akin to trying to stuff a buick into a gary coleman jacket.  When that gut was contained and those pipes were chirping he was still… Elvis.  Didn’t matter that pills had waged a war on his innards like a light saber slicing through a snow beast’s sternum to provide a Jedi safe harbor for a night on a snowy planet,  didn’t matter that Elvis was all shell and no man, he was still Elvis because he sounded like it. Didn’t matter if the fans swaying at his feet were swaying at the concept of what he used to be, they still swayed.

The Bat’s Twitter account and soon to be his millions of followers don’t care the man slinging words into the vastness of cyberspace, is no longer the young, hip, indefatiguable, lurid, virile (but not viral), template of poker masculinty, instead the Bat morphed into a flabby chuckleberry, with a future of cranes breaking into a house to hoist his ass to safety and away from the teenagers he bribes to deliver him Popeyes around the clock. 

Fat Elvis?  This is mortally obese Elvis.  That is the Bat’s future and he’s fine with it.  “Love that chicken from Popeyes!”  Course, nobody else, needs know that about the Bat.  Sure, as the Bat prepares to venture out in the Twitterverse you his loyal blog readers with your dime store understanding of his 0.25 cent words know who the mammonth of a man really is, but the rest of the world lies unsuspecting.  To them the Bat’s bluster will be authentic, he will be the man he used to be, the man that would bluff his entire bankroll and his buddies bankrolls on a hunch he could get his opponents to fold.

Twitter offers the Bat the chance to be that man again.  So the Bat will conquer twitter one retweet at a time.  Joe Seebok, a living breathing walking Greenstein grumper, poker-road CEO, and UB shill with more twitter followers than anybody else,  beware those heavy footsteps behind you is the looming giant ego of the Bat coming to swallow you up.  SeeBiscuit think you have a lot of twitter followers wait til the Bat does his best Sumo Wrestling move and simply falls on you.  Squish-Squash broken leg–you are going to the glue factory. 

It may take a year, it may take two, but the behemonth that is the Bat is soon to rule the Pokerworld in terms of followers.  When the Bat sets a goal, unless it’s a daily walk around the block, the Bat doesn’t let anything get in his way of reaching it.

Doesn’t matter that the Bat burns a bankroll quicker than Andy Dick a crackrock, the Bat always returns better and… bigger than before.  So yes,  as that crane looms over the Bat’s house, the Bat will be on his smart phone twittering some witticism that will have his lady fans thinking he’s still that cute, ironic, twenty-something he used to be and one day that will lead to the extra follower who will give the Bat supremacy in the poker twitterverse.

Phil Hellmouth, Daniel Negrunion, all you fools better watch out because the Bat says, “I think you hear me huffing, and I think I’m about to fall on all of you.”

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The Poker Bat Will Attack and You Don’t Want That! II

The Bat has so much good to say about the Brat, he of 11 Texas Holdem bracelets, and his leaving UB why not keep writing about it. You come to see what nugget of genius the Bat has turded onto this blog every week or so, and you care about Phil Hellmuth so the Bat will give his stable of low IQ readers more of what they love. You got another helping of the Bat’s thoughts about the Poker Brat. Look inebriated inbreds that make up the Bat’s readership understand, it can not be awesome reader mail every week, because the Bat has to count on you writing something legible or to figure out how to use your email often another to give the Bat something to answer.

Rumor had it that Philly had a stake in UB, but it’s doubtful any new deal with an established site will give him a piece of the pie.  An up and coming site, sure, but those usually don’t last too long.  As Deliverance Poker and the Mizrachis can tell you.  The Bat has to wonder why Phil, Doyle Brunson and Johnny Chan don’t open a site called 30+ poker. You really want to learn poker from the best?

Not for 30 year olds and over, though it would likely, successfully cater to that sub-group, but the 30+ would signify the number of bracelets they all wield. Doyle has Doyle’s room, and Chan has what All-In Energy Drink? Doyle’s Room is probably giving Doyle a little chunk of change but these three guys banded together are game-changers.

It’s not 2005, but for many older players that will be logging in once the restrictions are gone, poker is Doyle Brunson, Johnny Chan, and Phil Hellmuth. Hell, to those law-abiding or no law but still abiding citizens (and not in a “The Dude Abides” kind of way, in a “there is no law outlawing poker but the older folk will still abide by the law they imagine outlaws poker”) poker stopped in 2005. Amarillo Slim and TJ Cloutier could probably be milked out of the last of their brand value too. Not like they would spurn the offer.

It would kind of be a poker site for those new to computers but old to the game. The 30+ would also take into account that the threesome might still win more bracelets (don’t laugh) so why limit it to how many they have now and have to change the name later. Or if you don’t want to go whole hog and build an entire brand around it, why doesn’t an established site kind of create an legends league for players over 30.

Sure, the Bat’s readers are more interested in popping their face acne then popping into Hellmuth and Brunson’s hypothetical site, but there is probably a group clamoring for it. How many times has the Bat seen some old-timer clunkily look out of place on the virtual felt and in the chatbox as it is. Gotta be some money to made by pooling them all together and they can check every street to their Nittiest contentment.

Then the guys like Doyle, TJ, Phil would have hand again as they’d suddenly be comparatively aggressive. If you build it they will come. Then the question is would youngsters flock to that site because they think they can steamroll it. What a problem to have people flocking to a new poker site to play poker.

Never understood why sites hired winners, why not hire degens that are known to give away money to represent you. Okay, advertisement, this guy is forced to lose his paycheck every Tuesday from 5 to 10. First come, first serve. Seems like the powers that be got it backwards, who wants to play with the Best?  Better to play with the guys that still think they are the best.

The Poker Bat Will Attack And You Don’t Want That!

The Poker Bat, your ambassador to poker knowledge and Badassador to the rest of the world, has some thoughts on his favorite Brat. The Bat imagines one day he’ll get the chance to sing “Philly” as the grizzled veteran Sam Grizzle once called him, off the table after dismissing that nit with deuce seven special that hit real snug against his over-valued overpairs. Until that day, the Bat must admit he’s enjoying every mis-step by Hellmuth as it comes to online poker games.

Good ol’ Philly (and by the way, it should be “ol’ ” why does Ole Miss use ole that’s something Mexicans say, not Mississippians) stubbed his toe on his way out the door at UB. He and Annie Duke picked up and left the embattled poker site, and now UB is headed by noted poker pro Joe Seebok (?). What is Cereusly going on over there. While Philly will probably land on his feet as the face of some poker entity’s online poker tournaments what will happen to Duke?

The Bat knows rats are first off a sinking ship and the Bat doesn’t want to call good ol’ Annie Duke and good ol’ Philly Hellmuth rats but they are jumping ship. The Bat’s wondered why big brother Howard hasn’t been signing Annie’s pay-checks for some time, so it’s probably only a matter of time before Duke is cuddling up to Jennifer Harmon in Full Tilt gear. Though you got to wonder if the self-declared best woman in poker is going to enjoy another woman at her side in photos. Her friendship with Erik Seidel could help get the deal done, though likely it’d just take Howard’s consent–at least it appeared that way in the Jimmy Fricke email fiasco.

The real question is does Full Tilt need her? What kind of market does Duke provide? What new players are going to sign on because Duke is there? Truth is parting ways with UB might be welcomed both by the company and by Duke. UB is still a yellow and black mare on the reputations of many associated with it and now Duke doesn’t have to answer questions on their behalf anymore. For UB, the volatile Duke while at one point a strong advocate also brought some “haters” to the brand.

Phil Hellmuth is as divisive as he is popular. Nobody is a better self-promoter in the game, including Daniel Negreanu, and lately Tony Dunst. While Hellmuth is a brand, you need only look at his Tiger Woods wannabe hat to see that, he’s not opening any new doors for many sites either. Truth is there are sexier possibilities for new sites, and Hellmuth doesn’t really fit the Full Tilt mold.

PokerStars seems a better fit despite their movements to go young and international, Phil seems to be the type of star that could cozy up to Daniel Negreanu in one of the Pokerstars specials, and offers a good counter point to the potential of Jason Mercier. They have a great stable and he wouldn’t be out of place there because unlike Duke he kind of transcends a brand.

Philly kind of likes to be the Main Guy so perhaps a stake in a new site or a European one looking to make inroads in the United States. The merger of bwin-party poker is interesting as they might have the kind of clout to afford poker’s biggest free agent and he’d be a great marketer of them when they return to the United States after U.I.E.G.A. is overturned. They are a very savvy consolidation and the Bat wouldn’t be surprised if Hellmuth is squarely on their radar. Course, the only problem with singing Philly Hellmuth is you get Philly Hellmuth.

Meep, Meep, Learn how to be the Poker Bat,

Bat’s random Holdem poker thoughts…

The Bat loves it when a guy is bluffing with the best hand then turns that sumbitch over like he just stole the crown jewels of Denmark.  Nice try alligator face but you can’t show up someone when every draw misses and even if you checked it down you still would have won.  Even worse if there is some value for the idiot to check for showdown.  The Bat’s not writing this blog to educate you unwashed masses on the importance of show-down values there are plenty of other places to read about poker strategy like Brandon Jarret’s blog, but since some of you come here to get a kernel of knowledge from the Colonel of poker here are some freebies…   

Use these with descretion, but you folks clean your laundry downstream of a Union Carbide plant so the Bat realizes that’s going to be difficult for you, but try.  And most of these don’t deal with online poker tournaments but maybe you’ll have better luck with them than The Bat has. The Bat thinks the worst spot to be on the poker table is in the big blind.  The Bat knows many of you get taken by the fact you should defend your big blind at all costs.  Why play a big pot from there out of position?  Yes, that’s the conventional question and it’s answer is conventional wisdom.  But you start listening to conventional wisdom and you’ll never play a big pot.

If the pipsqueak to your right tries to get frisky a couple of times in a row, by the way what table are you playing on these days where pots are unopened to the blinds mulitple times, just fire back at him with a five x raise of his raise and immediatly start whispering “Do it… Do it…  Do it…” while caressing the rest of your chips.  Make sure the caressing is perverted… not menacing.  That’s very important.   Then ship it regardless of what the board comes if he checks… and he will check every single time.  Five times out of six you are welcome.  The other time you try it and it fail don’t come complaining back to the Bat.  You lost the hand because the guy could smell Coyote on you from a mile away and he went Meep Meep.

When you succeed quote the Devo song “Whip it” preferably these lyrics “Whip it, Whip it good” in as soft a voice that he can still hear, as you pick up your new chips.  Then wink at the guy and hold the eye shut for an awkwardly long time, almost like you’ve forgotten how to open it again.  Then the rest of the session look at him and make a slow, painful looking wince as you shut the eye, as if simply looking at him causes half-blindness.

Playing from the button is one of the most powerful spots on the table.  Problem is everyone knows that so it’s harder to steal from, but everybody knows that now, so you can steal again, as most people rate you as having hand.  Yet, in poker when you zig like Zig Ziglar you want them to think you are zagging likw Adam Morrison, so the Bat advocates stealing from the button at your lesiure.  Three bet, open raise, and if the feeling gets you call, and bet any unopened pot postflop.  Once you’ve done this a few times somebody is ready to look you up.

Now, you gotta channel the spirit of somebody a lot braver than you are, and since you have the courage of a stuffed animal and the imagination of a math teacher, the Bat gives you permission to imagine you are the Bat.  Your skin is invulnerable, you have a titanium hide, and you crush all players.  It’s fun to be the Bat.  Anyway, once they are ready to look you up, even more reason to bet.  Find those two pound weights that now chafe your upper legs, Pokerbat, and bet Ming the Merciless-ly.  They want to play back but they wonder if this time you got the hand.

Then stomp on their soul, by humming Lady Gaga’s pokerface and indicating you are going to muck as soon as the flop is dealt.  If they bet, pull back your cards and raise them, hum louder.  If they don’t bet, simply bet.  When they fold, then wink… and, again hold that eye shut so long, somebody thinks you are about to have a seizure, and then huskily whisper “I’m the Poker Bat…”

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.