Dogs

I should probably go to bed.

But I'm not going to.

Mrs. Blood and I went down to the Fort Myers Dog Track for what would end up being 3 hours of poker. I played the 1/2 $100 buy-in NL game and she went to the 2/4 limit game. When we signed up for each game, she was 11th on the list and I was 3rd. She got seated first.

I have a confession to make.

I pretty much hate all poker players. Except of course for the friends I play with. Those peeps are good peeps. But in general? Most random poker players are pretty much pathetic.

What does that say about me? I willingly sit down with those people on occasion and try to take their money.

Tonight, there wasn't a player at the table who I thought was any better than I was.

So yeah, I lost.

I lost to players who needed to hit that 2-outer on the turn or catch runner-runner to win. Those players flock to these games and bury themselves in the sand, acting as land-mines to the players who think they can out play them. Like me.

But I can't.

Not in the short-term, anyway.

Deep down, I'm not even on tilt. I don't even care that I lost money tonight.

It's just that my hatred for the average poker moron grew another notch.

I know that these players feed the game. They feed the good players. They feed the winning players. Like myself.

I know they need to get lucky in the short term to distort their self assessments. I understand that.

But I don't care.

I honestly hate them.

I can destroy them 3 out of 5 times and be a winning player against them.

But I don't want to.

I want to win 5 out of 5 times. I want to be a dominating player against them. I want to crush them. Kill them. Because I hate them.

****

I got back to my parents place at about 12:30 am. I had to move my kids from where they went to sleep to their beds once we got back.

I looked at their sleeping faces.

I went to bed a winner nonetheless.