World Series Of Pathetic

Mitch MansfieldContributor IJanuary 3, 2010

LAS VEGAS - OCTOBER 14:  Professional poker player Phil Hellmuth Jr. hits the ball on the end of his club during the Justin Timberlake Shriners Hospitals for Children Open Championship Pro-Am at the TPC Summerlin October 14, 2009 in Las Vegas, Nevada.  (Photo by Ethan Miller/Getty Images)
Ethan Miller/Getty Images

Why does poker attract the biggest douches the planet can produce?  Every poker poser you run into is all too eager to tell you about his latest bad beat or the $5k he won playing online against rich whales from Wyoming.  Bullshit, poker poser, the only thing you’ve won is a life of not getting laid.

Sometimes when the scotch doesn’t do the trick and I find myself awake at 3:30 am on a random Wednesday, I’ll turn on ESPN and watch the reruns of the World Series of Poker on constant loop during the coke-whore hours of the night.  Not so much because I enjoy the game, more so because I enjoy people watching some of the floppiest dweebs ever to get on TV.  If life ever hits you square in balls and you find yourself unemployed, married and with child, simply turn a WSOP tournament and remind yourself that life could always be worse—you could have turned into the fat Asian man with the comb over decaying in seat 1.

I think it goes without saying that poker is obviously not a sport.  Poker involves overweight assholes sitting in chairs, smoking, drinking and eating ramen noodles. It takes no physical skill whatsoever. I have seen a blind guy and a guy with no arms play poker.  BLIND! NO ARMS!

And this is the more physical version of poker.  It actually involves picking up and flicking cards.  These days the modern poker player spends his nights fermenting in front of his computer, picking his ass and clicking the raise button in between tugging his pud to 1970s Playboy pics.  Poker has gone from an underground gamble played by castaways and badasses, to a computer game played by Level 5 Dungeonmasters calculating odds and updating their spreadsheets.

All of these characteristics of poker are annoying, but not ground breaking.  What is less obvious to the casual observer is how poker is a blatant buzzkill for the unsuspecting, jovial drunkard.  My Vegas weekends inevitably involve me and my cronies stumbling to a no-limit table at the Wynn double fisting scotch and sodas and feeling on top of the world.  All too often this shared euphoria is destroyed by the B.O. and negativity that is your everyday poker poser with an axe to grind because he hasn’t seen a boob since the 80s.

In the game of life, it’s the avid poker players who have been dealt the 7, 2 off suit, and they’ll never let any of us forget it.