I have absolutely no sense of humor about this post…nothing witty or enlightening or even humorous to throw in just for kicks. It’s like living in a bad marriage or working a job that you’ve absolutely despised for the last 20 years but you have to be there, the rent’s due and sleeping in a bed followed by a hot shower in the morning is a wonderful thing that you don’t want to give up.

I see a lot of the same people day after day, interjected with a few new ones. Almost all of the ‘same’ people are really wonderful and I’ve learned to appreciate them as people rather than putting them in the category of ‘poker players’. I’ve learned a lot about myself from watching what they do, how they behave, what causes their actions and reactions, why they’re playing poker, and what brings them to the point they are in in their lives that might be the reason for their behavior patterns. There are very few people that leave me absolutely cold, where I’ve finally reached the point that I see nothing in them that resembles a spark of humor, kindness, or warmth for anyone, including themselves.
So…the subject? Mike D., AKA Israeli Mike, the subject of many other posts over the years. I tried talking to him not long ago when he was in Sport’s Book. Sometimes it’s worthwhile to approach someone outside the room and see if I can’t resolve the differences or hard feelings and move on. It’s worked with a few other players over the years and I thought it might work here. Not so.

He’s not only in full tilt mode, he’s Super Jerk disguised as a nightmare, poker playing, asshole. I used to believe that J.C. Pearson was 10 steps below being human and now I know Mike has first place locked up in the Superstitious Lunatic, Complete Asshole of the Year Award for the next 50 years.

As I waited for the dealer in front to me to finish the hand in $40-$80, 7 Card Stud, I watched Mike throw two $10 chips to A.J. Mike was in the 2s, A.J. in the 8s. A.J. threw them back to Mike. Mike threw them back to A.J. with some comment like, ‘take them….’

A.J. threw them back to Mike and said, “No!”

Mike went into some kind of dialogue that appeared to me to be a cover up for being dissed by A.J. Mike started making comments to Lee, 4s, an Asian that plays almost any limit and game, has very broken English, and is extremely abrupt, loud, and staccato with his comments and word usage.

Mike reached across the 1s’s playing area and put his fingers on the 7 Card Stud Plague and staring at Lee, went into, “What did you think we were playing? This isn’t Omaha 8 or Better, it’s 7 Card Stud.”

His focus now was completely on Lee. Lee and Mike exchanged banter for a moment as I entered the game and announced, “Time pot.”

I shuffled up and dealt the first hand, Mike reached over, grabbed the 7 Card Stud Plague out of it’s slot and threw it towards Lee. Lee did a reflex move and knocked it down the table where it slid off onto the floor by the 7s.

I curtly demanded, “Stop it!”

The 7s picked the Plaque up off the floor and handed it back to me. I replaced it during the hand.

Mike went out to smoke or burn voodoo dolls or whatever it is that he does when he takes a walk. He came back, played and lost three to four hands in a row, flipped his cards into the rack and pot, glared at me, won the next pot, lost the next two, and won the next pot.

During all this action, Lee left the game and our empty seat was filled. The new player apparently knew the 5s from the playing together the day before. The 4s and 5s were middle aged gents, both strangers to me, and appeared to be European. They were visiting quietly while all the action was going on.

The last hand I dealt, the incoming dealer had already tapped me out, I’d called for a set-up for the next dealer, and Mary, (a dealer that’s filling in as a ‘Brush’), was standing behind me with the new decks, Mike and the 5s go to war in a hand. The pot was huge.

The 5s made a flush in 5 when Mike made open Kings. Mike made trips at this point but never filled. More chips screamed and crashed into the pot. Needless to say, Mike lost the hand. He sat with his cards in his hand, mumbling, nodding, appearing as if he was in need of a Straight Jacket to keep him from jumping out of his skin, and I knew the CARDS WERE COMING IN!

They did. He hit me right in the left breast with them. Three of them fell into the rack. I picked up two of them, had them cocked, aimed and ready to fire at his face, (almost before I knew I was doing it), when I stopped myself.

He challenged me with the needle, “Go ahead. Go ahead.”

I sincerely believe that if I had thrown the cards at him, he would’ve felt that it was ok to get up and hit me.

Instead, as I pushed the pot, in an overly loud bark, I said, “You are so rude it’s unbelievable.”

He grumbled, “I’m rude…you deal…”

I interrupted him with the same loud tone, “You are rude just because I deal the cards right off the top and you’re not winning.”

The worst of it is that the new players looked at Mike as if he’d turned into Demon Spawn. He’s even hard on players, not just dealers.

The 5s threw me a tip, I put in the new set-up and exited the dealer’s box.
Mike started a mumble that only parts of it were heard, “…not today…the fucking…”

Mary jumped in with, “That’s enough, Mike!”

I dealt my next two games and went on break. During the break, I wrote an incident report to ‘paper trail’ this incident. I spoke with Nate, Swing Shift Supervisor, and Pete, Graveyard Supervisor, that night, and Suzie the following night.

I’m done, finished, kaput, with ever trying to even be civil to him again. If he breathes hard in my direction and the wind moves past my head, I’m calling for a Decision.

He threatened once to make a call ‘outside’ the casino and have me taken care of. If I die, for any reason, please call 911 and have them investigate him.

He doesn’t know it but he’s already dead from self induced mind poisoning. Man that’s a horrible way to go.