Google Subversion

I was recently introduced to Google Images, an option just above the main search bar that allows users to search for pictures.

The delayed email arrived at 1.30am.

I was in the middle of a losing poker session, on a site that has had a Halloween make over.

The first time I was aware of the new graphics was I when I noticed an avatar wearing what I thought it was a burqa: a bizarre commentary on the veil debate or the site trying to recruit 25% of players from non-gambling communities.

It turned out it was a white sheet, designed for acquisition of M&Ms.

Anyway, I had a large pumpkin on my head and I just lost half my stack to a guy with a hockey mask.

“Give this a go, see who you can find”

It had to be an improvement.

For the first five minutes, whilst still playing poker, I went along predictable lines; wonders of the world, women and old school friends. I then opted for family members and was disappointed to discover no representations. There were people with the same name but no actual images of my four siblings.

I decided to put my name in. I was fairly sure it would be unsuccessful as I have never added an image, nor had I been posted there for work or activities in the criminal community.

It is a very surreal experience looking at images of namesakes; however, the first one that resonated was in a graveyard.

It was my tombstone.

And there were no fresh flowers.

I had to play a hand of poker as I had jacks in late position. I raised to four times the big blind and found myself heads up against the East Anglian Dracula.

Not live, from Norwich, it was the hand of the week.

The flop came jack ten ace and made a bet that placed him all in.

“Call” said the undead.

I watched the chips go into the middle and the next two cards were a blur as the software, keen to keep things moving and the pennies rolling in, smooth deals the turn and the river. The chips were fen bound. He turned over queen king and had flopped Broadway.

The light went out on my pumpkin.

“Would you like to rebuy?

It was two in the morning, there was no one around, it was cold, I was losing money, I had a pumpkin on my head and I was staring at a tombstone with my name on it.

“Fuck it, I’m all in!”

Hell is Other People, 72% Of The Time

I caught five minutes of Damien Omen II on Saturday night. The scene had an authority figure barking examples of human atrocities and the adolescent Crimson King instantly reeled off the dates when they happened.

Pause.

Both parties are horrified.

Damien dashes off for a moment of multi-mirrored scalp scrutiny and discovers the personal branding that obviously escaped the nit-lady.

His pudgy face then contemplates the possibility that mother was a cloven-hoofed goat and not the Avon Lady.

He then sprints out onto an abandoned jetty (the geographical plausibility baffled me but I was a bit pissed) and, while weeping over unsettled waters, looking out at ominous clouds screams “Why me??”

Why me?

I know the feeling.

I too have found myself in far too many conversations that attempt to squeeze human existence into the Dewey Decimal system, stored, labelled and easily shelved.

Whether they be top fives, balance sheets or an over stressing of travel minutiae, as the speaker carries on, and my skin senses the first swish of embalming fluid, I always find myself wishing he had been afflicted by the millennium bug.

No wonder Damien is a fan - he reduces the pleasure of human communication to conversational top trumping, stripped of wit, insight and intimacy and shapes the social arena into the 9th circle.

Next time you find yourself listening to one too many snippets of matchbox wisdom, ask if you can inspect the person’s bonce.

I bet they recoil.

It’s time to wake up and smell the sulphur.

He talks amongst us.

Taxi for Iannucci

http://arts.guardian.co.uk/features/story/0,,1924846,00.html


The above is last week’s lecture by Armando Iannucci at Tate Britain. He discussed the value of comedy in politics and mentioned that often there is not a lot for the gag writer to do.

Four days later, I read that on the eve of the opening of their new £24 million church in the City of London, Janet Laveau, spokesperson and personal auditor for the Religion of Scientology said

“Anti-social types will often try to leech off the success of creative types.”

Armando?

“Writing for a penny a word is ridiculous. If a man really wants to make a million dollars, the best way would be to start his own religion”

L.R.Hubbard

Untitled

I dedicate today’s post to Simon Pope, the artist awarded a grant to exhibit an empty gallery in Cardiff’s Chapter Arts Centre. His aim is to have visitors walk around and discuss memories of other galleries.

So feel free to look at the empty page below and recall other pages you have browsed before. Take some time. Maybe even forward the page after you have reminisced about emailed lawyer jokes, frantic ebay bids or even your first experience of cyber dumping.























Transcripts of the above material will be archived and a limited edition hard copy can be sent in a presentation pack for a small fee.

If you found the experience particularly moving, you might also want to try:http://www.wikihow.com/Do-Nothing.

Partygaming Adopts Pioneering New Approach

As online gaming companies continue their enforced economic introspection, a representative for Partygaming, whose prospectus contained many examples of corporate scoffing at the then existent US legislation and whose directors this year cashed in $17bn, said he could now appreciate that some people may find online poker playing distasteful. He also expressed regret that he may have been personally responsible for ruining lives.

He said “We are now in talks with other companies that are deemed socially responsible in the states and expect to announce a merger with Marlin soon”, adding that not only will the company be deemed legal, there may well be a sudden rush of business as angry Americans discover they can no longer play poker and are desperate for some shoulder- shaking- barrelled-action.

Online Gaming Chaos Continues

Talks announced of a merger between PartyGaming and 888Holdings have tonight been dismissed by both parties. Although both companies are desperate to replace the loss of revenues caused by the US Port security Bill, there is a growing divergence in their approach.

Citing exploitative differences, a representative for Partygaming said, “Although tempted by the economic benefits of a merger with 888, we feel we have to learn the lessons of the last eight months and factor in moral and social considerations. It might be time to re-assess.”

Representatives from 888 refused to comment, although Gavin Grist, an ex employee speaking on condition of celebrity, said “Typical of Party’s arrogance. Their prospectus scoffed at US law and now they are rejecting consolidation. I would be surprised if they didn’t invest in human traffic”

Clamp Down Continues

Spurred on by the recent success of the Port Authority bill and its effect on poker players, Republicans have decided to target more parts of the electorate. They will amend a recent bill designed to protect Americans from the effects of non-domestic climate change and it will now outlaw the sale of firearms to single mothers, homosexuals and theatre critics.

Jackson Stanley, 39, Scottsbluff, NE, expressed great relief at this common sense move - “Jesus Christ, these people are sinners already so why should they share the right to bear arms? If you go to church on Sunday, you should have a piece. And what about these kids of single mothers? How are they going to learn to fire a gun properly without their dad being around?"

What's in a name?

The use of nicknames in no–limit internet poker can lead to some interesting confrontations, made even more perilous with the knowledge that an all too easy mouse click can consign you to doom. Depending on one’s emotional state, it’s a world where everyone is a bogeyman or a sucker, transitional objects between poverty and wealth.

Some give Freudian clues to insecurities – “Superman”, “The Destroyer” or “PushurPooin” – but it is advisable to tread warily around solid, functional names like “redlark”, “Virginia gent” or “Fossilman”.

I used to deploy my real name, but, after a while, I decided to launch into this world of ego projection, believing I could use it to my advantage.

My first attempts at originality were not successful and, after forty-five minutes of forehead- slapping anxiety, the best I could offer was “RandomNoun”. However, I wanted a name that reflected something so, with a nod to the crippling immaturity inherent in a pro player, I settled for “grazedknee”, casting players back to days of kiss chase and off-ground tick.

On the second day, a player typed something in the chat, directed at me. As most online sharks are playing multiple tables, it is rare to see anything in the chat box, unless you take someone’s stack and they provide intimate personal histories. Apparently, my mother was sexually loose with Nebraskan Lasso Man and the other occupants of his farm.

However, this time the entry was so good it nearly caused impromptu sock removal.

“Grazedknee, are you a Native American?”

Fantastical images of my birth and events leading up to my naming ritual distracted me from my deliberations on the best way to play ten jack suited from late position.
Somewhat rattled, I explained, politely, I live in London and my alpha helix is a farrago of English and Irish DNA. He “lol’ed” his question off but the exchange stimulated a hitherto silent character, ominously named Marin68.

“WHAT KIND OF NAME IS GRAZEDKNEE?”

For all I knew he was a teddy-clutching, dummy sucker but the use of capital letters is usually a bad sign. For me, it suggested he had been at My Lai and wanted to syringe my nostrils full of Marmite to a backdrop of James Blunt.

I ignored his question but, a few hands later, I was contesting a pot with him. I folded when he made the kind of raise that makes you feel like a rabbit and he’s holding you by the ears over a bubbling pot. I typed the sporting “nh”, for nice hand. My reward was “WHAT’S YOUR PERSONAL EXPERIENCE OF WAR, HUH?”

Christ, what did he expect? I was a teenager in the eighties and the closest I came to international conflict was playing Risk. Somehow, I suspected Marin68 was not going to sympathise with my battlefield report of the odds-against massacre of my forces at Siam. (There was the slow, craps style tumble, three sixes appeared, my fate was sealed and I still have nightmares when I see blue dice.)

My options were fabrication, desertion, or, after some thought, manipulation. Eric Berne in his book “Games People Play” uses poker as an example of a type of transaction between two people called “Now I Have Got You, You SOB”.

Player A is dealt an unbeatable hand and is too busy cackling over the prospect of inflicting damage to Player’s B stack that he actually plays poor poker. However, unbeatable hands, “the nuts”, are rare at Texas Hold ‘em and becoming someone’s boo-boy can be an advantage, especially if you have position.

“Was ’68 the year you went AWOL or were you court martialled?” That seemed to have the desired effect as a series of ***** appeared in the chat and he started raising every hand. I was now playing against a maniac and although that was what I wanted, I would have to be very careful as he wasn’t going to fold any hands and I didn’t want luck to play a strong part. The trick is patience. Avoid marginal holdings; when the time is right, let them come to you.

Marin was intimidating the rest of the table and had taken the last ten pots by simply hammering people with huge bets on the flop. However, finally, a hand hit me: pocket Kings.

I was first to act. I called the blinds, expecting Marvin to cock the hammer. Everyone folded to him. He was last to act and made a small raise, less than I expected, but it still gave me a chance: I could now re-raise. He would find it impossible to resist the chance to empty my pockets. I made the minimum raise. He came straight back at me. I had him. I put him in for his entire stack.

“HEY KNEE. SOCCER PLAYER OR SCHOOL RIGHT?”

What was he doing?

“GOOD NAME. I’M A HISTORY STUDENT MYSELF”

He called my bet. The site has a moment when both players are all in before it turns the cards over.

I knew I had given him my money.

The cards flipped.

For once, there was no exclamation against bad luck, there was no kipper across the kisser.

I had been outplayed.

He had aces.

The person who I had assumed had the personality of Christopher Walken on a low serotonin day had just got me to put in all my money on a long shot. I was the one playing “Now I’ve got you…”

I had assumed I had his measure, I was deluded by concepts of my own superiority and I had been bewitched by his moniker.

“Sorry Knee – guess you’ll need more T.C.P.”