Play every hand...

Today on the cruise ship they are doing a breast cancer walk (Susan Koman) foundation. Anyway, playing poker last night, finally doing pretty well, and a gent brings up that there is this walk for cancer on the ship, and asks if we are participating. To my right is a guy who has been there, literally, every single session i've been in on. He's maybe late forties, plays every hand (i'm not kidding). Every. Single. Hand. At least till the turn (fourth card, which is quite long for every hand). His wife stops by occasionally to bring him food and to check on him. She asks him a lot if he's ok. She's also is really affectionate with him, unlike the other wives/girlfriends/mothers (YR's case) who swing by to berate the menfolk for a) spending all of their time playing poker, b) being late for dinner, c) generally being bastards, or d) all of the above.

I wonder if something is wrong. maybe he doesn't feel well and she is concerned, but he seems fine. But she pops in at least once a session, and has for the last few days, so i figure it's just the way she is. But when the other guy mentions the cancer walk last night, gent to my right says 'I have brain cancer'. Diagnosed three months ago. Just finished radiation, got on the ship, and is then back for chemo. Prognosis is pretty shitty, as you might imagine. Let's be honest here. This guy is probably going to die. Soon. And he knows it. His wife knows it. And watching his wife, and imagining what this must be like, and seeing her concern and love up front like that...Dunno, man...there aren't too many times in life when you get a reality check like that.

I have no real point here, other than that it stuck with me. People get, and die from, cancer every day. It's not even that unique, sadly, as every single person reading this knows from firsthand experience. But, and at the risk of being overly profound/metaphorical/cliched (though cliches exist for a reason). Life is too goddamn short. Fuck it. Play all your hands, man. Always. Play them all, enjoy it till the money runs out, and just fucking go for it. Always. Hesitation is overrated. Conservative play is overrated. A job is a job. A flat is a flat. They mean not much in the scheme of things. You can't take it with you, so play all your hands, and give someone a big smooch today, as if it were the last chance you'd have to do it ;)

YR out.

Merry X-Mas!

Merry Christmas, 'yatches. Blogging at you from lovely St. Thomas. I'll keep it short because Holland America Cruise Lines (read freaky dutch bastards) like to charge, like, 8000 bucks a minute for internet access. Quite a racket they've got going. So i'll give you the quick-hit highlights of the voyage, with pictures to follow, once back on land.

Day 1, Saturday. Ship sails from Ft. Lauderdale. Annoying caribbean steel drum band begins to play 'hot hot hot' and old people from iowa start dancing and, like, doing the macarana and shit. Eyes roll. YR retires to casino. Promptly loses all his money.

Day 2, Sunday. Ship docks in half moon cay. All the people go to the roped off beach. YR and YYR kick it up a notch, hike out three miles, cut across some rocks, find awesome lagoon all to ourselves, and chill. Little christmas eve adventure. Promptly lose more money at casino (damn 3/6 hold 'em). anyone who plays knows what i'm talking about. Ever lose TWICE on trips in no limit? Didn't think so. jesus. Some jackass TWICE caught the river. you can't push people around in 3/6. damn. DAMN. DAMN!

Day 3, Monday. fell asleep in sun. Whoops. Beers. mmm.. more food. I can literally feel myself getting fatter after all the good work i've done in the last four months. Attempt gym. instead watch 'live free or die hard'. why not?

Day 4. Today. St. Thomas. Hoards go shopping. All shops look the same. YR rents motor scooter of death. Drives up death mountain roads (on wrong side, isn't that weird in the UNITED STATES Virgin islands). Raining at times. I rock. Fuck it.

And a little side note. New homeland security regs require, when docking at St. Thomas, that you all go down at SEVEN THIRTY in the morning to give passports. Even if you aren't getting off the goddamn ship. So merry fucking christmas, go get anally probed. Holy shit, i was like, 'um. dude...this is an AMERICAN passport. we are IN AMERICA (at least by my understanding of what a territory is)...this sucks. Ben was crabby...

Ok, well, not much else to report here. The sun has fried my brain. Off to the pool. see you all later, and hope santa was good to you. laters.

I can no longer remain silent

Yeah, man, slow few weeks over here at Ben in Switzerland (soon to be Ben on a large boat with his family for 7 days: i'll blog THAT crazy shit for certain)...End of year, lots of things to wrap up, late nights enjoying the christmas cheer with too little sleep = no blogging. But this. This I can not ignore. I hereby declare that this is the most offensive article I have ever read in my entire life. This is not hyperbole. This is fact. If i saw any of these people on the street, I think I would be justified in homiciding them to death...Then i'd have to hire one of these jokers below...

Point:
"Then came private equity investors and hedge funders, and lawyers nose-dived on the socioeconomic ladder. "Face it, we have no status," says an Am Law 100 partner of the pecking order at his sons' private school. "We go to these school functions, and this well-heeled group looks right through you. They won't give you the time of day. You're just one step ahead of the doorman."

YR Counterpoint.
"Jesus H. Christ. Fuck you."

Point:
"Real estate causes a great deal of angst in these rarefied precincts. "Our cost of living goes up because of these people," says a fifth-year associate about the hedge fund crowd. "Wall Streeters are buying up the pre-eminent prewar apartments on the Upper East Side," gripes a partner who lives on New York's Upper West Side. What about the newly gentrifying areas of lower Manhattan or Brooklyn? Get real. "It's bullshit that partners are living all over the city by choice," he says."

YR Counterpoint:
"Jesus H. Christ. Go fuck yourself."

And look, peoples. To quote John Cusack in "High Fidelity", I'm no class warrior. Money is a-ok by me, man. But shit, man. People complaining about 600k in salary? That is so fucked on so many levels. I love NY, but it's stuff like this that makes me hate it too. The worst part is that it's true. Lawyers really do feel screwed by this. Imagine.