Last night while on the internet I learned of news and looked upon terrible images which completely shattered my world.  I woke up this morning, wondering why I couldn’t remember anything that happened past 11 the night before.  I hadn’t been drinking and I didn’t even have money on the ‘Skins debacle against a reborn Vick and his Eagles.  This was something far more tragic that the mere sight of had literally altered my brain chemistry and, for my own good, damaged my memory cells.  Then… slowly… unfortunately… and very, very, sadly I recalled what horror I had seen:

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You’ve heard the expression “poker face.”  Christ, by now, with the poker boom and the Lady Gaga hype, I’m sure by now you’ve heard that term.  In poker, it means staying as straight-faced as possible so as to not betray your hand or intentions.  But like most things in poker, it’s all bullshit.  Hell, tonight I saw a guy hit quads on the river and his eyes damn near jumped out of his sockets.  Hardly anybody has a good “poker face”… at least in poker.

The real poker face is what you show the world outside of places like a gambling den.  As a fond observer of humanity, that’s one of the few things I actually like about poker—it’s one of the rare places where people show you who they really are.  Isolated, insulated, and self-interested:  That’s when people show you their true colors.  Same thing with driving a car.  When people are on the road, they do things to give away their true nature because they think they are invisible.  In poker people know they aren’t invisible, but they are away from their spouses and bosses and they are self-interested and totally wrapped up in their own petty little motivations… so they think and act like they are invisible.

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I have nothing against breast cancer awareness.  But as far as the recognition of national movements goes, they shouldn’t get to have the whole month to themselves.  It’s bad enough I have to watch 350 lb black guys in pink cletes all month.  That is why I am officially declaring October (and probably most of November too): National Vice and Degenerate Month.  I believe my status as elite irresponsible degenerate affords me to do that.  Why October?  It’s perfect, especially if you are the gambling and drinking sort of degenerate.  October is the month when the college and pro football seasons are getting into full swing and basketball is about to start.  This is gambler’s Nirvana, and for most of us it is still too early in the season to have lost your house.  And there are poker games a’ plenty.  With summer over, there is less remorse associated with sitting in a grimy room full of strangers trying to rob your money and thinking about all the nice things you might be missing out on.  And short of making any breast cancer jokes, like the “save the ta-tas” bumper stickers I see, I will say: Nothing quite says “degenerate” so well as the mention of boobies.  They go together like peanut butter and chocolate.  Which boob you want to put the peanut butter on and which one you spread the melted chocolate on is entirely a matter of opinion.

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STYMNKABF (Something True You May Not Know About Bernard Friday)

2. I enjoy unwieldy acronyms.

Time for GHAFBGWABW.

I bring you this guy:

He is Israel Lagares.  He is not trying to be ironic at all (unless he is a secret Muslim trying to pull a fast one with his first name).  He is just fat and has a beard.  He writes a blog called “Fatman Unleashed.”  You can see him write about his beard in this entry: http://www.fatmanunleashed.com/the-beard-the-fat-face-and-the-double-chin/

Excerpt from his article:

“The beard acts as a sort of fat cloaking device. I look at it this way: people can judge me by my beard or by my fat face. I choose the beard.”

Tomorrow I am going to start liking Israel Lagares.