Vagueness and the Aftermath - A sporadic diary

[RED-DOG]

From Poker News, dated Feb 5th 08

Preventing Online Poker a Matter of "National Security
In December, the U.S. Trade Office announced it had reached an agreement with Europe, Japan, and Canada that would involve the U.S. making major trade concessions in order to both keep its ban on Internet gambling, and simultaneously allow exemptions to that ban for state lotteries and horse racing.

The agreement meant that the U.S. was willing to force U.S consumers and businesses to pay so that the federal government could prevent U.S. citizens from playing poker online.

Strangely, the federal government also refused to release the terms of the settlement. So Ed Brayton filed a FOIA request with the U.S. Trade Office to release the terms of the settlement. They responded this week. They have refused to disclose the details "in the interests of national security."





I'm just surprised it isn't dated April 1st 08

[tikay]

You could not make it up, Tom!

Only in America.

[Dingdell]

Fungi is/are the most amazing thing Tom.

Scientists & Naturalists used to consider them part of the Plant Kingdom, but now they are recognzed as neither Animal or Plant, & they have their own, very complex, Kingdom. (Scientists divide the living world into types, known as Kingdoms).

They play a most interesting role in Nature, & yeast (necessary for Beer & Bread) is a well-known fungi.

Excessive yeast (candida) in the bowel leads to bloating, constipation etc etc and makes me a living.

Just spent an hour catching up Tom - loving it - especially the bit about the neighbour ringing the enforcement officer - they are not very bright are they?!

[RED-DOG]

I’m sorry if this tale is jumping around between the past and the present. It’s turning into half diary, half memoir. To avoid confusion, we are now going back to before I moved on to the field.


I had managed to get my water and electricity supply connected.  I had installed an access track, some hard standing, and a septic tank. I was now ready for phase three, the most scary part, actually moving my caravans on to the field.

When I say moving on was the scary part, I don’t say it lightly. It’s frightening how violently people will react sometimes. More often than not, they are normal decent people, but if they think their property, their family, or their way of life is under threat, and then they find that they are part of a group who share the same fears, mob rule can quickly take over, and decent people can end up doing things they normally wouldn’t even contemplate. I have seen people seriously injured, caravans damaged, even smashed and burned. I didn’t think (at least I hoped) that wasn’t going to be the case this time, but I wasn’t looking forward to it one little bit.    

Until now, I had told people that I intended to keep horses here, which was the truth, but I had avoided all mention of my being a Gypsy and actually wanting to live there with my family. Once the penny dropped, people who had started to become friendly would feel that I had deceived them.

The shit was going to hit the fan big time, and I knew I wasn’t going to come away smelling good.

[sovietsong]

Dont keep us waiting Tom!!!

[RED-DOG]

I moved on to my field on March 25th 2001. It was the wettest day, of the (then) wettest week on record. It was the same process as when we moved the mobile home off the other day, but in reverse.

Mrs Red and the girls were ensconced in the little touring caravan which I had parked almost out of sight behind the old railway carriages by the time the transporter dropped the mobile on to the road outside the gate. I had a Jeep at the time, and I intended to use that to tow the mobile across the field and on to the hard standing.

I managed to get it few yards inside the gate before it sank right up to the axles in the soft, rain sodden soil. Try as I might, my little Jeep couldn’t budge it another inch, and when I caught the dreaded whiff of burning clutch plate, I knew it was futile, I was going nowhere.

I had been desperate for this to go off smoothly, the last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself. Now a crowd was gathering. There was quite a bit of muttering, and one or two unpleasant comments. Then someone shouted, “Why don’t you just move on? We don’t want you’re sort here”

Just then, a JCB pulled up in the road outside the gate. A grizzled old man climbed down from the cab and offered me his hand.

“Hello” he said. “My name is David, it looks like you could do with some help”.

The fact that an obviously well respected local man was willing to help me had a calming effect on the crowd. It took the wind out of their sails and slowly they drifted away. That doesn’t mean they lost interest in me. There’s a public footpath that runs alongside the field, and it got more traffic that day than any other day before or since. It seemed like everyone from the village wanted to have a look. I saw the same tired dogs being led by a succession of different “owners” passing slowly back and forth. Those people that didn’t own a dog were obviously taking turns to borrow one.

But the crisis was over. Thanks to Dave the JCB man, we had managed to make camp intact. Don’t get me wrong, it was still pretty soul destroying. People were ringing up the council to complain, and someone alerted the police. (They screeched to a halt and asked if the landowner was present. I stepped forward, and they told me quietly, “Don’t worry, we will do all we can to get them off”)

But we had an ally. Dave the JCB man gave me his number and said that if I needed anything, I should ring him. Later that day, when things had calmed down a bit, there was a knock on the caravan door. I opened it to find an old couple holding a cake and a bottle of wine.

“Welcome to the village” they said. “We hope you will be happy here”

I thanked them, and started to cry.

[tikay]

I’m sorry if this tale is jumping around between the past and the present. It’s turning into half diary, half memoir. To avoid confusion, we are now going back to before I moved on to the field.


I had managed to get my water and electricity supply connected.  I had installed an access track, some hard standing, and a septic tank. I was now ready for phase three, the most scary part, actually moving my caravans on to the field.

When I say moving on was the scary part, I don’t say it lightly. It’s frightening how violently people will react sometimes. More often than not, they are normal decent people, but if they think their property, their family, or their way of life is under threat, and then they find that they are part of a group who share the same fears, mob rule can quickly take over, and decent people can end up doing things they normally wouldn’t even contemplate. I have seen people seriously injured, caravans damaged, even smashed and burned. I didn’t think (at least I hoped) that wasn’t going to be the case this time, but I wasn’t looking forward to it one little bit.    

Until now, I had told people that I intended to keep horses here, which was the truth, but I had avoided all mention of my being a Gypsy and actually wanting to live there with my family. Once the penny dropped, people who had started to become friendly would feel that I had deceived them.

The shit was going to hit the fan big time, and I knew I wasn’t going to come away smelling good.

Whoa Tom - you missed a bit!

We need to hear about the installation of the septic tank, it's impotarnt. Was Peggy Shitter involved?

As to the tale as a whole, of your little home/Nature Reserve, I probably know more about it than most blondes, but still not enough of the detail, but we all want to see the whole thing, warts & all, in your own style.

And don't forget the "battle" with the locals, & how, by just being yourself, you overcome some horrific & viscious discrimination - the "no Gypsies in THIS shop" sort of thing, & the "but I can actually SEE them" (if she stretches & stands on a chair in her attic...) stuff. And the Community stuff you & Mrs Red do, the "bin-run" to the tip, the Village Fete Stall, the local Environmental Group, the flower baskets, the trip to Buckingham Palace, the good, the bad, & the horrible. And the horses you "take in" to restore to health. (Your "animal stories" are the bestest). How you got your previous "Mobile" into the field. (With difficulty, I imagine).

And, though I know this may be difficult for you, but I'd love to hear more - much more - about your Daughters, &, especially difficult for you, I know, but your Son, too. Perhaps that's a step too far right now, but one day, please.

One day it will all be in a book, just like your Mum & Dad's was. You will have written it without realising it.

Your Diary is the bit I always read last when I get on bonde - I always save the best until last. Do keep it going, please, Tom. I know I speak for so many blondes when I ask that.

[tikay]

I moved on to my field on March 25th 2001. It was the wettest day, of the (then) wettest week on record. It was the same process as when we moved the mobile home off the other day, but in reverse.

Mrs Red and the girls were ensconced in the little touring caravan which I had parked almost out of sight behind the old railway carriages by the time the transporter dropped the mobile on to the road outside the gate. I had a Jeep at the time, and I intended to use that to tow the mobile across the field and on to the hard standing.

I managed to get it few yards inside the gate before it sank right up to the axles in the soft, rain sodden soil. Try as I might, my little Jeep couldn’t budge it another inch, and when I caught the dreaded whiff of burning clutch plate, I knew it was futile, I was going nowhere.

I had been desperate for this to go off smoothly, the last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself. Now a crowd was gathering. There was quite a bit of muttering, and one or two unpleasant comments. Then someone shouted, “Why don’t you just move on? We don’t want you’re sort here”

Just then, a JCB pulled up in the road outside the gate. A grizzled old man climbed down from the cab and offered me his hand.

“Hello” he said. “My name is David, it looks like you could do with some help”.

The fact that an obviously well respected local man was willing to help me had a calming effect on the crowd. It took the wind out of their sails and slowly they drifted away. That doesn’t mean they lost interest in me. There’s a public footpath that runs alongside the field, and it got more traffic that day than any other day before or since. It seemed like everyone from the village wanted to have a look. I saw the same tired dogs being led by a succession of different “owners” passing slowly back and forth. Those people that didn’t own a dog were obviously taking turns to borrow one.

But the crisis was over. Thanks to Dave the JCB man, we had managed to make camp intact. Don’t get me wrong, it was still pretty soul destroying. People were ringing up the council to complain, and someone alerted the police. (They screeched to a halt and asked if the landowner was present. I stepped forward, and they told me quietly, “Don’t worry, we will do all we can to get them off”)

But we had an ally. Dave the JCB man gave me his number and said that if I needed anything, I should ring him. Later that day, when things had calmed down a bit, there was a knock on the caravan door. I opened it to find an old couple holding a cake and a bottle of wine.

“Welcome to the village” they said. “We hope you will be happy here”

I thanked them, and started to cry.

Oh Tom, that's so very moving. I'm crying as I read it, & I bet a score or more blondes are, too. I want to meet Dave, (the JCB man) please.

[Wardonkey]

Tom,

Your story is captivating, thanks for sharing it.

[tikay]

I moved on to my field on March 25th 2001. It was the wettest day, of the (then) wettest week on record. It was the same process as when we moved the mobile home off the other day, but in reverse.

Mrs Red and the girls were ensconced in the little touring caravan which I had parked almost out of sight behind the old railway carriages by the time the transporter dropped the mobile on to the road outside the gate. I had a Jeep at the time, and I intended to use that to tow the mobile across the field and on to the hard standing.

I managed to get it few yards inside the gate before it sank right up to the axles in the soft, rain sodden soil. Try as I might, my little Jeep couldn’t budge it another inch, and when I caught the dreaded whiff of burning clutch plate, I knew it was futile, I was going nowhere.

I had been desperate for this to go off smoothly, the last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself. Now a crowd was gathering. There was quite a bit of muttering, and one or two unpleasant comments. Then someone shouted, “Why don’t you just move on? We don’t want you’re sort here”

Just then, a JCB pulled up in the road outside the gate. A grizzled old man climbed down from the cab and offered me his hand.

“Hello” he said. “My name is David, it looks like you could do with some help”.

The fact that an obviously well respected local man was willing to help me had a calming effect on the crowd. It took the wind out of their sails and slowly they drifted away. That doesn’t mean they lost interest in me. There’s a public footpath that runs alongside the field, and it got more traffic that day than any other day before or since. It seemed like everyone from the village wanted to have a look. I saw the same tired dogs being led by a succession of different “owners” passing slowly back and forth. Those people that didn’t own a dog were obviously taking turns to borrow one.

But the crisis was over. Thanks to Dave the JCB man, we had managed to make camp intact. Don’t get me wrong, it was still pretty soul destroying. People were ringing up the council to complain, and someone alerted the police. (They screeched to a halt and asked if the landowner was present. I stepped forward, and they told me quietly, “Don’t worry, we will do all we can to get them off”)

But we had an ally. Dave the JCB man gave me his number and said that if I needed anything, I should ring him. Later that day, when things had calmed down a bit, there was a knock on the caravan door. I opened it to find an old couple holding a cake and a bottle of wine.

“Welcome to the village” they said. “We hope you will be happy here”

I thanked them, and started to cry.

Oh, the terrible irony. Our wonderful, institutionally racist Police rarely fail to disappoint.

[RED-DOG]

Went to dtd tonight for the £100.

I haven't played live for over a week, and I've been running bad online for a fortnight, but I've played a little cash this past couple of days and managed to recoup about $1200 of my $5k+ Mtt buy-ins. Not much in the grand scheme of things, but it's all relative. As my brother Joe says, "If someone is squeezing your knackers with the pliers, happiness is when they let go".

Anyway, I was really up for it tonight and with a great structure and a max spend of £130 including drinks, I knew I was going to enjoy it.

No sooner had I arrived than tikay collared me and nipped me for a cup of tea. He then proceeded to tell me a tale about something or other, I don't know what, but it involved a lot of shouting, standing up, and waving his arms. By the time they called the comp, I had developed a bit of a migraine.

I asked the very nice lady behind the cash desk if she had any aspirin. She passed me her handbag and said "Here, help your self" I had a rummage about in the bag and found the pills. Bloody good they were too. Not only did they cure my headache, they also stopped me from ovulating.

Sometime during the first level, there was a raise to 200 and a call. I found aces in the big blind and made it 800 to go, both players called.

The flop came jack high. The original raiser was a young man who I had played against at Brighton, he has an excellent game and I knew he was very aggressive. I dwelled up or a little while and then bet out for 1000, trying my best to look apprehensive and hoping he would think I had missed the flop.

I got more than  bargained for, he instantly pushed all in. The other player passed.

I had a little think. Could I be behind here, what could I put him on? Small pair that has flopped the set? pocket jacks that have done the same? No. There were no obvious draws out, if he had hit the set he would surely milk it a little.

I called, He shrugged good naturedly and tabled pocket eights. No surprises on turn or river and I doubled up.

After that, I found no premium hands but with my big stack I found lots of opportunities for squeeze plays on what was a very limpy table. During the next couple of hours I picked up about another four thousand.

Then I smooth called a small raise with pocket 22 and the flop came 9 2 J rainbow. I bet 1000 and got two callers. the turn came another 9, matey checked and I bet 1000, the other player folded and matey went all in for over 15k.

"Please don't have J 9" I pleaded as I called, but it was OK, he had A 9 and the river was a blank.

So now I had over 30k when the average was about 12k I saw no more good cards but picked up the blinds here and there and slipped on to the final table in good shape.

There was one guy on there with absolutely massive chips, and he was in almost every pot, I didn't want to mess with him without a proper hand, so I kept my head down and waited for him to knock the short stacks out. 

The trouble was, he doubled all the short stacks up and my chips started to dwindle, then it was passed around to me in the big blind and I made it 5k more to go with 10 4os The player on the bb went over he top all in, I passed immediately and then realised that I had made a bloomer of the highest order. Had I asked for a count, I would have realised that it was only another 4k to call, I had forgotten that he had lost a biggish pot a couple of hands ago and was now quite short, I had great odds to call but passed without thinking.

So, with 7 paid and 9 left, it was beginning to look as if I was going to miss out, then two of the shorties got it all in and after dwelling for ages, the chip leader called.

One shorty had pocket tens the other had kings, the chipleader had A 7 and spiked an A on the turn to eliminate two players and shoot me into the money.

We lost another shorty soon after that and then I found K Q os in late position, I raised 6k with 8k behind and the chippy set me in.

I had to call, and was happy to see his A 7, but nither of us improved and I was out in 6th for a small but welcome profit and my first ever tourney cash at dtd.

Walsall and weigh in day tomorrow.

Smoke me a lettuce.

[Laxie]

I moved on to my field on March 25th 2001. It was the wettest day, of the (then) wettest week on record. It was the same process as when we moved the mobile home off the other day, but in reverse.

Mrs Red and the girls were ensconced in the little touring caravan which I had parked almost out of sight behind the old railway carriages by the time the transporter dropped the mobile on to the road outside the gate. I had a Jeep at the time, and I intended to use that to tow the mobile across the field and on to the hard standing.

I managed to get it few yards inside the gate before it sank right up to the axles in the soft, rain sodden soil. Try as I might, my little Jeep couldn’t budge it another inch, and when I caught the dreaded whiff of burning clutch plate, I knew it was futile, I was going nowhere.

I had been desperate for this to go off smoothly, the last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself. Now a crowd was gathering. There was quite a bit of muttering, and one or two unpleasant comments. Then someone shouted, “Why don’t you just move on? We don’t want you’re sort here”

Just then, a JCB pulled up in the road outside the gate. A grizzled old man climbed down from the cab and offered me his hand.

“Hello” he said. “My name is David, it looks like you could do with some help”.

The fact that an obviously well respected local man was willing to help me had a calming effect on the crowd. It took the wind out of their sails and slowly they drifted away. That doesn’t mean they lost interest in me. There’s a public footpath that runs alongside the field, and it got more traffic that day than any other day before or since. It seemed like everyone from the village wanted to have a look. I saw the same tired dogs being led by a succession of different “owners” passing slowly back and forth. Those people that didn’t own a dog were obviously taking turns to borrow one.

But the crisis was over. Thanks to Dave the JCB man, we had managed to make camp intact. Don’t get me wrong, it was still pretty soul destroying. People were ringing up the council to complain, and someone alerted the police. (They screeched to a halt and asked if the landowner was present. I stepped forward, and they told me quietly, “Don’t worry, we will do all we can to get them off”)

But we had an ally. Dave the JCB man gave me his number and said that if I needed anything, I should ring him. Later that day, when things had calmed down a bit, there was a knock on the caravan door. I opened it to find an old couple holding a cake and a bottle of wine.

“Welcome to the village” they said. “We hope you will be happy here”

I thanked them, and started to cry.

Oh Tom, that's so very moving. I'm crying as I read it, & I bet a score or more blondes are, too. I want to meet Dave, (the JCB man) please.

Yep...there were tears in Cork.  Had the 'warm and fuzzy' feeling in me belly reading about Dave, but the old couple put me over the edge.  Great read Tom. 

Well done cashing at DTD and best of luck in Walsall!!!

[kinboshi]

I asked the very nice lady behind the cash desk if she had any aspirin. She passed me her handbag and said "Here, help your self" I had a rummage about in the bag and found the pills. Bloody good they were too. Not only did they cure my headache, they also stopped me from ovulating.

[taximan007]

Nice result Tom, Good luck for Walsall, (and the weigh in)

[RED-DOG]

14st 12lb, a 1lb gain.

I'm so disappointed with myself, I can't tell you.

I used to be able to drop a few pounds when ever I wanted to, but this time it's been really difficult.

I will do it though, I really will.

Watch this space....

The day of reckoning is upon me again. I hope I've lost a bit, I've been such a good boy this week.

Right! Off to the scale, back in a mo.....