Okay, I admit I am a bit superstitious when I play poker. I’ve totally changed my wardrobe to accommodate my superstitious predisposition, right down to refusing to wear the underwear that was purchased by my Missus from Mississippi, because I think it she cursed every item of clothes she provided me with. I used to say that if it wasn’t for ex-wives and galpals, I’d be naked. Certainly, I’ve had plenty of ex-wives who have tried take the shirt off my back. Some are still trying. However, I noticed a trend, a correlation between the love of my life at the time I was sitting at the poker table, and the outcomes I was experiencing. Let the scientist in me emphasize that correlation does not equal causality. Nonetheless, I have observed an interesting trend.
I had an on again-off again relationship with my Missus from Mississippi. When we were separated, I had a new girlfriend who stuck with me while I was recovering from my stroke. She wasn’t the most doting gal-pal, which forced me to get off my butt and work toward my recovery. While we had some relationship issues, I noticed that I had incredible luck when we were in a relationship. She could be in Michigan, and I’d win in Mississippi. We eventually broke up, and I reunited with the Mississippi missus. However, I couldn’t win when with the missus like I could with the galpal. Eventually, I discovered if I wore the galpal’s shirts she had gifted to me, I’d occasionally win a tournament. Now, the missus bought some really nice shirts with guitars on them. I like to wear them bowling, but I won’t set foot in a casino wearing the Mississippi missus’s shirts. In fact, I have divided my closet in half based on who furnished me with the shirt. I even purchased new short pants to accommodate by superstition. Laundry has now become an emergency procedure when I run low on shirts that I have purchased for myself. I actually bought shirts from China that I ordered online that have turned out pretty lucky for me.
I have made a habit of playing the $120 tournament on Wednesdays at the Pensacola Greyhound Track. People are starting to get to know me, but they know they can’t hide from me if they are assigned to my table in a tournament. Poor Marlon had to sit next to me today and listen to me talk nonstop. He kept pushing all in, and surviving, so I accused him of trying to get away from me. However, Kevin, a gentleman older than me with a pleasant disposition got the right idea eliminating me twice from the tournament. I had given him my business card, and I told him I would put him in my blog. That made him fear for his reputation, but he was a good sport about it.
To my right, sat the man with 9 lives, Superstitious Paul. I met him a few weeks ago in a tournament. Paul was wearing a solid blue Ryne Sandberg Cubs jersey from the late 80’s. After talking to him about that jersey, we continued to communicate during tournaments. We were assigned seats next to each other today. Since I had given him my business card, he knew I had written a book about ghosts who play poker and drink beer. He’s a walking miracle, having survived, a heart attack, cancer, and a stroke, who had been a collector of sports memorabilia. He proceeded to tell me about a Ouija board he had been given from another collector. He said his wife wouldn’t let him bring it in his house, so he kept it in a shed. He said receiving the Ouija board set off a terrible losing streak at poker. He went on to say that he had hit a black cat with his vehicle soon after receiving the board, but when he went back to find the cat it was gone. So, we concluded it really did have 9 lives. Then, he went on to tell me of his medical deterioration that consisted esophageal cancer requiring extensive surgery, a heart attack requiring a cardiac artery bypass graft of 3 or 4 vessels, and a stroke. Apparently, the cat did transfer its 9 lives to him. However, when he asked me if I wanted his Ouija Board ,I declined.
In my book, The Trained Ghost Gimmick, I do discuss how ghost hunters avoid things like Ouija Boards, and seances, fearing that it could trigger an evil presence, as it did in The Exorcist. Ouija boards were created by Parker Brothers years ago like a board-game similart o Monopoly. Speaking of Monopoly, my knew poker friend, Sean, kept calling me Monopoly man last night, because of my mustache. He likes to yank my chain, and that’s why I keep a handlebar mustache. Today I got to say hello to people who’ve been in my articles before. I ran into Jennifer, and she said, “I never told you to shut up.”
I said, “Yeah, but you thought it. Why do you think I have a mustache? I want people to poke fun at me.”
I have a section in my book of insulting endorsements. If people don’t make fun of me, I think they’re pissed off at me. When I entered a tournament last week, I told the tournament director that poker dealer Joey was my friend, an assertion he promptly denied. David printed my ticket Mark (Joey’s friend). I told Joey it’s going on the internet. Once it’s on the internet, it has to be true. Here are a few insulting endorsements.
Debbie Stuart: Mark stroked his way into this book. On MRI his brain looks like Swiss cheese. He kills me in his book and doesn’t even make me ghost. Bless his brain damaged heart.
Favorite ex-wife: I’m a character in the book, but I’m so glad he didn’t say we were married.
Nalusa Falaya(Choctaw Boogieman): Mark Burtman is a Burtastrophy. He thinks four divorces and a prison term qualifies him to write a book about a trained ghost lawyer. He thinks putting me on the cover of his book will shut me up. Good luck with that.
Ichabod Stuart: He says you shouldn’t play him at poker unless you’re mad at your money. I know a bluff when I see one. Buy his books, but don’t loan him any money.
I did get to see Dwight today who was mentioned in my article last week. He played good poker today, frustrated that they had knock me out twice to shut me up. Please leave comments like funny insults that I can put in my next article. If you don’t insult me I’ll think you’re mad at me or a Missus from Mississippi trying to get the shirt off my back.