Friday, September 17, 2010

Homeopathic Douchebags

So I sit down in a zombie 20-40 game at Commerce with several players who have clearly been at it "all night". Never you mind that it's freaking 1:30 in the afternoon; trivialities such as this do not concern me. So we are slogging along, each hand taking forever because 3 players are moving as if they've been doused with molasses and then cryogenically frozen, when I realize seat 5 (HD from here on) is writing results of every single hand in a little notebook. The conversion turns to him explaining how he once won the jackpot, and how his wife hired an accountant, faking losses, and his exploits playing "most of the NL events" at the WSOP. He goes on to explain how his life has changed, what with having children and being diagnosed with some rare heart condition that Abe Lincoln also had.

It is at this point that he declares that the only reason he survived was his lifestyle. He doesn't drink, doesn't smoke, no drugs, not even caffeine and is in fact a "homeopathic doctor". He goes on and on explaining his miraculous survival and when asked "you're a doctor too?" responds with "well, maybe this will be my job now." Now the narrative, dare I say monologue, continues, interrupted only by his cold calling preflop, and check calling down top pair, then writing the victory in his notebook, to expound upon his time spent playing 100/200 and watching movies all day since "once I study the players it's easy."

Now I can deal with a fair bit of douche baggery, but this guy has a strong trifecta. He drastically overrates his abilities, feels the need to impress everyone, and manages to discuss the possibility of making a living at this in front of his marks, just not acceptable.

So after this all transpires we play the following hand. UTG raises and 2-3 people call, then HD calls in the CO. I sling in 4 chips at like 9 or 11 to 1 with the 53 colored (all reds baby) and we flop:


And in fine fashion every last one of us checks. Note that I have "a piece" of this one.


I bet. Why not? Nobody has a pair, I get value from lone clubs, maybe someone folds the winner, it's good. One call and HD calls. At this point I am basically done with the hand unless I spike some help.


And that is most definitely not help. I check, the random fish checks and HD fires a bet. I fold and random fish turbo calls.

HD: No club you got it
RF: I have club, muck it
HD shows Q9ss: I want to see what you called me with
RF shows T8o one club
HD now sets about the 'splainin'.

"I knew I had the best hand on the turn, I knew it"

Me, unable to resist: "You couldn't have been that sure, you didn't raise"

HD: "Once he called he was committed. He was gonna see the river for 8 more"

This is exactly the type of thinking that provides like half my winrate and I smiled and nodded understandingly, adding a "you're right" for good measure.

Now let's think about this atrocity for a minute. He eats two preflop with Q9s. Honestly, this can't be awful if you play well post-flop, and he THINKS he does so it's not really too bad. He checks the flop, fine. Then he doesn't raise the turn with the obvious stone nuts, after successfully diagnosing that he has them! OK that's terrible. But the river...the river is just terrible. Is he bluffing? Obviously not...and yet he knew the moment he was called he'd lost.

Carry on homeopathic douchebag. I've got all day :)

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