A Small But Obvious Note To The Live Crowd At The WSOP Main Event Poker Final

I have some small (very small) excuse for doing this; I blog, and I play poker, and I host a game. I'm also folding laundry, doing the day job, filling the blog and, well, in my own home. Comfortable, drinking my own beverages, using my own bathroom, eating my own snacks. If I nap, and I just might given the amount of excitement that's being generated by much of the "action", I don't have to worry about drooling on a stranger. And so on.

You people that are actually there, and not getting paid by the casino, the network, or with skin in the game (i.e., relatives or members of the entourage)? You know, the folks who aren't seeing the hole cards, and are just at the rail watching a collection of fairly anonymous and colorless players grind away at each other for hour after hour?

You people not only have no lives, you have never been in the neighborhood of a life.

And if you are in this room and sober, along with non-committed?

There are no words, really. None.