The Pokerbat is considering his options. First, make a special holiday weekend of crushing the online games. That’s option number 1. Course that is option one every day for the Bat, when the Bat logs on to play poker on a mac at home. The Bat likes that option, he likes the way it ends up, and he’ll enjoy the journey there–but the Bat don’t have to be at home to do that. They make computers portable these days and now that they have poker on a mac to go, the Bat ain’t going just sit at home and play, thank Peter, Paul, Mary and Puff the Magic Dragon for wireless cards.
Second, the Bat loads up his 1978 
Cadillac–which looks a little something like the picture minus the paint job, new engine, new parts, shinyness, washed-ness, and the original seat materials, AND the the little doohicky on the front (Bat thinks one of the neighborhood kids is wearing that as a necklace)–and heads to St. Louis because that other Poker animal, the PokerMonkey, is raving about the structures, the casino, and some giant golden arches. That is option number 2.
Now, the Bat is fond of McDonalds but he doesn’t need to see a supersized McDonalds in the middle of Missouri to feel better about eating Big Macs, or fries, or milk shakes, or sundaes, or nuggets…
Bat doesn’t have a weight problem, he has a wait problem, as in he can’t wait to eat. Since, the Bat has a local Mickey Ds, that option is off the table. And excuse the interlude, but the Bat is going to the drive through in the middle of this post. The Bat’s got a McFlurry itch that needs to be scratch, to the Bat’s caddy. You didn’t think it would be called the Batmobile did you?
Thirdly, go to Biloxi and play in that stranglehold of a structure they got at the B.R. The Bat says stranglehold because before you know it, those blinds and antes will sneak up on you like a Gay pro wrestler executing a sleeper hold. The Bat created a little nursey rhyme for players at that tournament to sing when the structure falls about like an old stadium full of TNT. Make sure you chant near your poker tournament director, if you don’t think luckboxes should be rewarded…
“It all goes to hell, and it all goes in, he who is luckiest wins, and he who ain’t, buys-in again.”
The Bat realizes that doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue but you have fun with it, especially as your chips go to the center of the table all willy-nilly.
Fourthly, the Bat loads up his Cadillac, with his poker on a mac computer and wireless card, and goes on a poker road trip/bender. Head to down to New Orleans for some cash games, take the winnings and hit the highway up to St. Louie, play some poker on the road while driving (will be safe going the speed limit), play in a poker tournament there and then head down to Baton Rouge try to find the poker “room” in the middle of that casino there, check out the hybrid poker club maybe, and then skedaddle over to Biloxi. That sentence is tiring and the Bat hasn’t even gotten to the good part.
Sit at the cash tables and crush the donkeys coming in from the slaughter house upstairs. Sing to them the Bat’s song:
“It all goes to hell, and it all goes in, he who is luckiest wins, and he who ain’t buys-in again.” The Bat has trademarked that little ditty already so you site squatters with visions of money in your birdbrains settle down. That’s it. Tune in next week, same Bat blog, same Bat poster, for the results.
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