GPITW Day 16-17

[gonores]

Welp, I’m putting my “Life in Vegas” post on the side for one more episode. Bad news came in yesterday from Milwaukee. A great man and a staple of the Marquette University campus, Panhandling Pete, passed on last week. In tribute, I am dedicating this journal to his memory.

MU was founded in the late 1800’s, on what was then the outskirts of Milwaukee. Since then, Milwaukee grew exponentially on the back of the Beer and Sausage industry, along with Harley Davidson. Now situated in downtown Milwaukee, Marquette abuts the Convention Center district of downtown on one side, and is surrounded on the other three sides by pure, unadulterated ghetto. You want history? Jeffrey Dahmer’s freezer was 100 feet away from an apartment complex populated mostly by Marquette graduate students. The unique placement of our fine little private Jesuit institution brought its students in contact with some, uh, rare birds.

Coming from a town of 1500 people, I didn’t come in contact with too many homeless people. Anyone unfortunate enough to find themselves without shelter was chased out of town with pitchforks and torches. Upon arrival at Marquette, I developed a healthy distaste for beggars (please note, the terms “beggars” and “homeless people” are not interchangeable). I decided that beggars sucked. All they did was ask passerby after passerby if they could spare some change. They never had a story, or a reason for money. They just counted on the goodwill of their fellow man. Talk about lame. I took to carrying around a pocketful of change wherever I went, just so I could jingle it and say “nope” whenever someone asked me for a little charity. Later, after watching Dave Chappelle’s HBO special, “Killing ‘em Softly,” my standard response was “Get a job, grouch.”

There was one glaring exception in this band of the destitute. I had seen this guy on the streets on almost a daily basis, but it took a few weeks for me to catch his eye. Finally, I’m walking home from class one day with my buddy and future roommate and he stops us. He asks us if we want to hear a joke. I had a long day and I was blocks away from my bottle of vodka, so I decide some good beggar humor would be a great stress reliever. He told us a crappy joke…something like

Q: What do you get when you put together 100 pigs and 100 deer?
A: Two hundred sows and bucks

It wasn’t worth much more than a giggle, but you had to give it to him…he was trying. Homelessness wasn’t enough to kill this guy’s sense of humor. I ask him his name (Pete), he asks me mine, and I hand him a buck. Transaction complete.

I have to stop the story for second right here to introduce another character. Anyone who has been to downtown Milwaukee has seen this guy. I never caught his name, but I always called him “Thumper,” as in “Bible Thumper.” As far as I could tell, this guy’s job was to drive around downtown Milwaukee and preach the good word from behind the steering wheel via a megaphone attached to the top of his car. His car was some sort of rusted-out hatchback from the late 80s. I never really took the time to identify the model, because I was too busy reading the insane ramblings he had painted on to his car. He made lots of references to “Judgement Day,” sinners, harlots, and sloths. I often fantasized about jumping in front of his car and stopping him so I could have a good heart-to-heart with this guy, but I always chickened out when opportunities arose. Despite the fact I had my doubts that he could get his car to go over 20mph, I feared he would have no problems doing God’s work and running me down like the sinner I am.

Fast forward a week, and Pete sees me walking home again. “Doug, my nigga, how you doin’?” (yes, Pete was black). Wow…the dude remembered my name. Pete has his [censored] together. I ask him how business was going today. He starts saying something, but then spies Thumper driving our way. He literally stops, says “hold on…just a sec.” He then cups his hands around his mouth and tells Thumper how he feels about him. “[censored] you, you self-righteous piece of [censored]. I [censored] hate you.” Just to give you a little aural picture, imagine how Uncle Phil (from Fresh Prince) sounds when he is bellowing at Will. It was eerie…Pete spoke in an ebonic vocabulary, but the ebonic accent wasn’t there. I was in awe. I almost fell over from laughing. Pete starts laughing too. We shared a moment.

I ask Pete what he’s up to right now. “Nothin’, man.” I make a mental note to add that question to my list of stuff I shouldn’t ask to homeless people. I ask him if he wants to get some grub. He says, “Sure.” His response struck me as a bit odd. “Sure” isn’t something you say when you’re homeless and someone just offered you a meal. The ring of gratitude wasn’t there. Now, to some people, such a lack of gratitude could be a deterrent. Not to me. Pete understood me. The mother [censored] UNDERSTOOD me. It’s like he knew that I was buying him dinner because I found him fascinating. He knew I wanted to know what made him tick.


This is getting long. I'm stopping here and will post Part Two on Saturday.

Tuesday was not a great day. I almost immediately dropped $4500 in my first session. That session actually ended right before I wrote up my last GPITW post, and was the fuel for the [censored] That theme of the last post. After I made the post, I ran some errands (buying boxers  ). I got back and played a bit more, dropping another $1.5k almost immediately. Predictably, after wearing my emotions on my sleeve in my last post, I handled that session with much more ease than I have in the past few months. I then managed to pull out a couple grand, managing to end up at only -$3800ish, or -95BBs.

After that session, I played the role of assistant to the Noted Poker Authority in a home game with his wife and a few of her novice friends. I realized that night that Ed’s gift is his ability to take not-so-simple concepts and put them into words that anyone can understand. His expertise is masked because he simplifies complicated subject matter to the point where practically anyone can grasp it. Very impressive.

Oh yeah, everyone had a great time too. Ed and I drank Newcastle. Mrs. NPA took a huge pot off me, and then called an all-in on the river with AJ on a ten-high board and heavy betting action on earlier streets. I used the term “Teutonic Discipline.” We talked about childhood actors. Good times.

Wednesday was lame. I spent a long time trying to get Sharper Image to replace my broken Bose headphones. They said I needed to send the headphones in to Bose. I said they should do that for me and give me a replacement pair immediately. They said something about me not buying a product warranty. I told them they should treat me better. We went back and forth. I didn’t win. An hour later, I finally negotiated away a box for my headphones so I could send them away. It was a moral victory.

I took that momentum and turned it into 102BBs on the day over 1500 hands. I then read a lot and started on my Panhandling Pete story.

One of these days, I promise I will put poker content in here. Scout’s honor.

BBs earned: 561BBs
To goal: 939BBs

[SoSo]

[ QUOTE ]
Since then, Milwaukee grew exponentially on the back of the Beer and Sausage industry

[/ QUOTE ]

seems logical to put a uni there then.

[*TT*]

rare birds?

TT [img]/images/graemlins/club.gif[/img]

[fyodor]

This is sounding like a good story. As there is no poker to comment on I will tell instead a bit of a story that the Thumper part reminded me of.

There was a guy used to come into my store hawking fake Rolexes and stuff. He was 40-something and eastern European. Name of Nick. I find out later full name is Nick Pavlovich.

Each time I said no to the watches or whatever he would start rambling about one thing or another. Governments, conspiracies, drug trade, mafia, aliens, etc. and he seemed to have some thread where they all connected.

One day I asked him if he painted or anything. I told him he seemed like the artistic type to me. Next day he is back and asks me to come outside. There I see his car for the first time. Some kind of sedan with religous writing/slogans hand painted all over it. This is why the Thumper part got me thinking of Nick.

Anyhow the other thing I see is he has about 20 oil paintings leaning up against the fence at the daycare next door. All kind of abstract but with recognizable things in them. I bought the largest one which was kind of a maelstorm thing with a flying house, a rhinoceros type animal, a caveman like guy and some other stuff. This is how I found out his last name was Pavlovich.

Eventually I bought 2 more. I have them all framed and in the living room. They all have this maelstorm of life theme. Different sizes, different colours, differnt objects but all whirling, cosmic, caught in the tornado of life themes. There is a flying saucer just barely visible in one.

Nick never talked religion. He let his car do that.

[Dids]

Awesome post.

Also this

" realized that night that Ed’s gift is his ability to take not-so-simple concepts and put them into words that anyone can understand. His expertise is masked because he simplifies complicated subject matter to the point where practically anyone can grasp it. Very impressive."

Is totally on point.

[gonores]

What don't you get about the phrase "rare birds?" It's a metaphor. Rare bird = rare people. I thought that was a common expression.

[LittleOldLady]

[ QUOTE ]
What don't you get about the phrase "rare birds?" It's a metaphor. Rare bird = rare people. I thought that was a common expression.

[/ QUOTE ]

It's a calque on the Latin 'rara avis.'

[LittleOldLady]

[ QUOTE ]
Awesome post.

Also this

" realized that night that Ed’s gift is his ability to take not-so-simple concepts and put them into words that anyone can understand. His expertise is masked because he simplifies complicated subject matter to the point where practically anyone can grasp it. Very impressive."

Is totally on point.

[/ QUOTE ]

I agree on both counts. Dougie, I have been reading your entries, and I think you have potential to write personal essays that can be published in one context or another (and I have spent my life writing, editing, and teaching writing). You have an eye for the telling detail that makes the narrative come alive. Maybe you should kick around some ideas with Edward.

As for Edward, he really is a born teacher. At MIT he was in such demand as a "tutor" that during exams he had to post a signup schedule on his door, so he would have time to prepare for his own exams.

[*TT*]

[ QUOTE ]
What don't you get about the phrase "rare birds?" It's a metaphor. Rare bird = rare people. I thought that was a common expression.

[/ QUOTE ]

A bird to me is a girl, British slang. I've never heard it used the way you did, thanks for the education.

TT [img]/images/graemlins/club.gif[/img]

[Granite]

Sometimes phrases don't translate well between countries. In Australia there is a car rental company that advertises "No birds". To us, like the Brits this means "No women" and doesn't make much sense.

I think it is an American equivalent to "No lemons" or no unroadworthy cars (correct me if I am wrong).

Oh and great read as allways Gonores, thanks, looking forward to part 2.

Granite.