Digital Cowboy

A few weeks ago, I sat at a (virtual) table with Keith Sexton in a HORSE tournament.

I won.

I didn’t just beat him. I took control of the table and bluffed him out of at least three pots. I also beat everyone else at that table. I wasn’t prepared for the fame/notoriety I got.

From that point on, I’ve had stalkers in the online poker world. People I don’t know telling me that they “know me.” But not just that, they also know that I’m a donkey (a poker term for a fool - you just keep carrying money to the table) and an “idiot.” It took me a while to figure it out, but there is a new generation of poker player that thinks they can use SharkScope to measure a person.

That “idiot” comment came from someone just before I busted him in heads up play. He said he “knew” I was an idiot because of my “ROI.” (That’s from sharkscope.) Those were the last words he typed as all his chips were shipped to me.

That’s a fool’s errand and I welcome it. If you think you can size up a player by reading dubiously collected stats of their performance over the last two or three years, PLEASE sit at my table. Did it ever occur to any of you math geniuses that I’m working on a table image and you’re gullible? When I want to win, I usually do.

I just beat Keith Sexton again as well as everyone else at the sit-n-go table where I played him. This time I chatted with him a bit. He’s a very nice guy.

I’m not overly impressed anymore with beating Keith. He plays every day for a lot more than the $55 buy-in at that (online) table. He’s also there to build interest and dump money so that others will. No matter what it looks like, I’m not stupid.

But there were 7 other people there that also lost all their chips to me. Again.

I came away thinking that, though this is another win for me, it also puts the target on me again.

I may have to lay low and play low for a while because every stupid teenager with access to his mother’s computer and credit card will be gunning for me - checking sharkscope and concluding I’m an “idiot” or “donkey” or “river-chaser.”

In that respect, I’ve learned what it’s like to be a “pro.”

When I started this blog, the motto here was “Poker is life. Life is poker.” There’s great wisdom in that so I’m changing it back. I’m pretty sure I said here in the past that if you don’t know poker, you’re probably not very good at life. Or something like that.

Among the many life lessons that poker teaches is this: “No single hand defines the game. It’s not over until every other player is busted. All it takes is a chip and a chair.”

Full Tilt commercials have made it a bit cliche, but like nearly every other cliche, this one is true: “It’s about patience and well-timed aggression.”

They’re talking about poker but it applies to life as well.

I just won another poker tournament. When it came down to heads up play, the other guy started whining about how lucky I am. Shortly after, I made a tough lay down where I’m pretty sure I had the best hand but it wasn’t worth the gamble. He responded with, “awwwww! Your luck run out?”

That’s when I knew I had him. I made a few more tough lay downs. Then, playing 7 Stud Hi (it was a HORSE tournament), I called him on the end with nothing but a pair of treys. He was showing a pair of deuces with a King and had bet into me on every street. I won the hand.

Then I said, “Was that luck, too or did you just get out-played?”

He never said another word and shortly after that, I busted him to win the tournament.

Life works exactly like that. Trust your read. Make the hard lay downs and the hard calls and you’ll win every time. Most important: Don’t let the obnoxious clowns and their stupid play move you off your game.

My bathroom reeks of fruitiness. There are multiple fluffy robes hanging on the back of my bathroom door. I have plants hanging - hanging! - on my porch. There’s stuff in my shower that I can’t even identify - and a lot of it. There are curtains now and everything has been rearranged. I don’t know where to find anything anymore and I’ve been informed that I’m supposed to stay out of the kitchen - I don’t belong there.

Also, most of my stuff is crap and needs to be taken to the dumpster (by me, of course) whenever the pile at the back door warrants a trip.

Hannah Montana seems to always be playing somewhere in my house. Not just the show, the music. And not just in the house. It’s on Mommy’s iPod so we can listen to it in the truck, too. Suddenly picking songs on Daddy’s iPod in the truck isn’t great fun, it’s old news. Daddy’s iPod doesn’t have any Hannah Montana or Emily Osment. Mommy’s here with the good stuff.

My youngest daughter has informed me that I’m now outnumbered and the girls are in charge. In fact, she says, “Girls go to college to get more knowledge and boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider.” (I’ll leave that irony to the reader and address it with her later. For now I just respond with “Boys rule and girls drool.”) I get no love around here anymore. Those cute little ones that used to crawl into my lap a couple times a day for Daddy hugs are now threatening to throw me out if I don’t shape up.

I thought we were getting Mommy back. Now I see that they were planning a coup. I just respond by telling them that if I don’t start getting the normal daily dose of hugs and love from them that I’m accustomed to, I’ll throw their mother out and when Mommy’s living in a box under a bridge it will be all their fault.

For the love of all that’s holy: I just broke the kitchen rule and went to make coffee… My prized Hamilton Beach Brew Station - the best thing I ever bought for my kitchen - smells like… like… Oh, God help me. The coffee maker smells like vanilla. Sure enough, after I got it cleansed and disinfected from all of the “girl” on it, I went to make coffee and there was some foil pouch of “Vanilla Biscotti blend” where my COFFEE is supposed to be! (Fortunately, I found actual coffee right next to it.)

On the flip side, I never cared much for the kitchen anyway. Also, not only have I not been going hungry lately, I’m eating better than I have in years.

I could do a whole separate post on that. That woman ain’t just eye candy in a kitchen. She’s a creative genius there. She concocts things on the fly that I would pay extra for in a restaurant. Most of what I eat these days has no name - “This is delicious, Baby. What is it?” (her laughing) “I dunno. Something I threw together. I just call it ‘My Mexican Chicken Shit.’ You really like it?” (What perplexes me is that she often does it just with stuff I already had here and makes it look easy.)

I have to admit the place looks a whole lot better, too… if you can block out all the yucky GIRL stuff everywhere. I only just now noticed that the coffee maker smells of vanilla because I haven’t made my own coffee in weeks. And I’ve never asked for coffee; it’s just been made by the coffee fairies while I sleep, I guess. It’s just there when I wake up, usually. Sometimes the fresh coffee smell is accompanied by the smell of frying bacon when my eyes open. (Bacon fairies? Who knows? No tellin’ what she had packed in all those boxes when she moved in.)

I complained to my mother about some of this girly infestation recently and she said, “You’re not foolin’ anybody. You LOVE it!”

She’s right. This briar patch is so awful. I demand that for all my sins and in the interest of justice, I be sentenced to remain here forever.

“When they carve my stone
All they need to write on it is
‘Once lived a man
Who got all he ever wanted.’
Tell me something: Who could ask for more
Than to be livin’ in a moment
You would die for?”

I’m living a dream.

I mean that literally. Like many people, I’ve thrown that phrase around loosely at times. This time I’m not using it as a rhetorical device. It’s not a euphemism, a metaphor, a figure of speech or hyperbole.

I mean it in the sense that the last couple of mornings I’ve awakened with a feeling of trepidation because I’ve actually had this particular dream quite a few times in the past few years only to wake up and face the crushing realization that it was only that - a dream. It always seemed so real. Whenever that happened the day that followed was always rough.

So these last couple mornings, I have laid partially awake for a few minutes until I made sure I was fully awake. Each morning I’ve thought to myself, “Not again! I can’t take this again!”

Then I realize she really is standing there. She really did just walk into the bathroom. This isn’t a dream. It’s the rest of my life. It’s really Her. Here. Really.

It’s my family all under one roof. It really was my whole family at the church picnic Sunday. Together.

It’s really me saying, “Time for bed. Give Mommy goodnight loving.” And then hearing Her say, “Give your Daddy goodnight loving and get in the bed, girls.”

It’s really Her sitting next to me on the couch after the kids are in bed, the two of us laughing at a stupid comedy on DVD like we’re foolish teenagers on a second date.

It’s really Her asking, “What do you want for supper?” and me saying, “Ehhh. You don’t need to cook. Let’s just go out for dinner.” It’s really my whole family having so much fun laughing with each other at Chili’s that I think we’re probably annoying those around us. And not caring.

It’s a miracle and I’m living it. The biggest challenge I face in it is trying not to get caught staring slack-jawed at her all the time. Not only is it wonderfully surreal to have her home, she’s even more beautiful than she was when I met her ten years ago.

My God answers prayer and He does it exceedingly, abundantly above all you can ask or think. He doesn’t just patch up and repair things, either. He restores. That makes all the difference in the world.

I’ve been listening to this song over and over tonight. It’s amazingly appropriate for my current situation and - no kiddin’ - I’ve had it for months in my iTunes library and had never listened to it once until I stumbled across it accidentally tonight.

I don’t know how The Red Rocker does it; it seems like no matter what I’m going through in my life - good or bad - he’s already recorded lyrics that match, years ago.

The relevant part of this one is:

Tell me now, tell me like it is.
No one has to give.
Amnesty is granted.
And what’s done is done.
For everyone.
Come on baby I want to start again.
Right now.
Amnesty is granted.

And I think a lot.
Yeah, I’ve been thinking a lot.
I’ve been thinking about you baby.
Lord knows I’ve been thinking a lot.

I’ve been thinking love should last forever.
Been growing tired of feeling like I do.
Oh yeah
There’s a time, and there’s a place.
A change of heart, about face.
It’s about love, it’s about forgiveness.
It’s about our destiny.

Tell me now, tell me like it is.
‘Cause no one has to give.
Amnesty is granted.

Yeah. What he said. What’s done is done. For everyone. It’s about love. It’s about forgiveness. It’s about our destiny. C’mon, baby. I wanna start again. Right now.

(If you have the time and can, click the link and listen. You can’t get the power of the song reading an excerpt of the lyrics. Sammy’s voice adds very necessary passion to the words. Then go to iTunes and buy some of Sammy’s music so he doesn’t sue me - This is a promotional link. };-))

I’m a smart guy. I’m smarter than most. Usually, I’m the smartest person in the room. It’s awkward and difficult most of the time. For the most part I’ve gotten used to it and learned to live with it.

This blog attracts people that are smarter than average. I love that. At Vox’s blog and here too, I’m not usually the smartest guy in the room. That’s what I like about this place and his. It’s a relief from the pressure I get pretty much everywhere else I go.

I’ve struggled with this - and prayed about it - for much of my life. It’s not arrogance. It’s a gift that has often seemed like a burden to me. I’ve humbly tried to get God’s help in dealing with it. I spent much of my life in a quandary trying to figure out how to manage it and just fit in.

Here’s what He’s shown me in answer to those prayers:

Wisdom is the principle thing. In all your getting, get Wisdom. Intelligence as the world measures it is only one kind and, taken alone, it’s worthless. There are different kinds of intelligence. There are people with IQs much, much lower than mine that are far more successful than I am at the moment because they have other forms of intelligence that aren’t measured by an IQ test. Many of them also have Wisdom.

I’m not going to get into all of the different kinds of intelligence here. That’s not what this is about.

When I was in High School, I made money winning bets before and after class by doing long division in my head while reading aloud from a book. Sometimes I even provided the answer before the jock betting against me had gotten it from his calculator.

I was arrogant then because I could do things like that.

What profit is that without Wisdom?

None. Wisdom is the principle thing.

I have two points here. The first is that government schooling set me up to fail by making me cocky about my gifts. They lead me to believe that I was “gifted.” (I was. I am. They corrupted it.) They led me to believe that the world was my oyster. I thought I was gonna be the next Steve Jobs. Being smarter than your “guidance counselors” is not a great way to plan a career or a life. (And if your kids are average, they’re smarter than their “guidance counselors” in the government schools, Corporate Dad. If you love them, get ‘em out.)

The second point is that Wisdom is far more important than raw intelligence. It’s a funny thing about intelligence relating to Wisdom - Intelligence often gets in the way of Wisdom. That probably explains why I was raised right - taught Wisdom - and it still took me way too long to even start pursuing Wisdom. I was too busy making money with my circus side shows, like doing long division in my head while reading aloud.

But I’m coming around and it’s working for me.

Proverbs 3:17 reads (speaking of Wisdom), “Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.”

Go read the whole chapter. I had a hard time choosing an excerpt. So here’s a couple more:

“Length of days is in her right hand; and in her left hand riches and honour”

“She is a tree of life to them that lay hold upon her: and happy is every one that retaineth her”

Seriously, there’s context that you need. Go read Proverbs 3.

Bottom line: I find myself now very happily and voluntarily following people that almost certainly don’t have IQs in the same category as mine. But they have Wisdom that I want.

I respect that far more than the eggheads that think college degrees make them smart.

Proverbs 3 (AMP) ends with “The wise shall inherit glory (all honor and good) but shame is the highest rank conferred on [self-confident] fools.”

I know a lot of wise people with low IQs and even more very intelligent, self-confident fools. I used to be one myself.

I’ve said nothing here recently and probably won’t soon.  There’s too much to say. Respect for the privacy of others prevents me from saying most of what I would like to.

I’ll tell you quickly that the legal conflict is over and I picked up my daughters last Tuesday morning. We’ve been home since Wednesday night. We had a hearing in court last Monday afternoon in Augusta, GA and it went exactly as I had declared in prayer that it would.  No surprises there. (I wanted to make that public because so many have expressed concern and I appreciate that more than you know.)

That’s good news, but it was expected - at least by me.  There’s far, far better news that was surprising to me.  I’ve expected it all along but I wasn’t expecting it now.  I knew that I knew that I knew…  I didn’t know when.  So it was a pleasant surprise Tuesday morning.  It’s also the part I can’t write about here yet.

In January of 2003, an atheist issued a challenge to me: “When [things go the way I predict] and you don’t get what you are praying for will you admit that your God doesn’t exist and prayer is a foolish waste of time?”

I replied, “Certainly.  But only on the condition that when [things go the way I predict], you’ll bow before my God and admit that He answers prayer.”

He accepted.

I’m currently holding my breath while waiting for that admission. Resuscitate me when it comes.

I don’t bring this up to boast about winning a bet.  I point it out to brag on my God.  He answers prayer and He does so every single time.  I had pastors tell me that I was nuts and should give up.  The more time that went by, the less I told “new” people in my life about what I was believing for.  ”It’s been HOW LONG?!?!”  ”Oh, Honey, you need to move on.”

Patience is hard.  It can also be lonely - almost everyone thinks you’re crazy.  I speak from experience.  But don’t you ever let anyone move you off your dream.  If you have a Word from God and even if you’re the only one that believes it, anything is possible. When you serve at the feet of Love.

You’ll never find anyone remembered as great in the Bible that took a poll or allowed themselves to be influenced by popular opinion and general consensus. What you find over and over and over are courageous people that refused to be moved, acted alone in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds and we now consider them great because of their faith. (Recommended reading starts in Hebrews 11 and the part about Abraham in Romans 4 is a next step.) Whenever you find yourself in agreement with the majority in any situation, it’s time to re-examine your premises.

“Never” rarely lives up to its hype. It’s not over ’til it’s written in stone. On a grave.

I’m not even completely convinced that it’s always over then.

I’m currently fighting yet another legal battle. This time it’s in two states, a thousand miles apart, to get my children back from a kidnapper.  I offered visitation to which my children’s mother was not entitled and then gave her gas money to get home because she “didn’t budget for the horrible gas mileage” she got on her trip to get them.  (I’ve had custody for nearly four years and she’s never paid a dime in child support, by the way.)

My reward was that I was served with papers 8 hours before I was to leave to drive 1000 miles to get my children.  The papers informed me that I no longer had custody of my daughters.  A Georgia judge that has never met me, my children or their mother gave her the benefit of the doubt when her newest attorney alleged a whole slew of things she has tried - and failed twice - to convince a Texas court that I’m doing… or not doing.  She has no evidence and thus presented no evidence.

What she’s done is a violation of Federal law - forum shopping across state lines.  She could do time for it.  I pray that doesn’t happen.  I wish her well, to say the least.

But, it’s not just me.  I have a friend that has been attacked over the legal custody of his daughter.  In his case, he was never married to her mother and she surrendered custody - in writing - in the hospital at the child’s birth.  The child is now seven years old and her “mother” has never been anything but an occasional visitor in her life.  The child has been raised by her father who places her above every other priority in his life.

Yet another acquaintance - a single father in my church - has recently been accused of horrible things by his recently teenaged daughter.  The girl has been a rebellious child for the last year or so to the point of being violent towards him.  The child’s mother is a known prostitute and drug dealer. She lives with drug dealers.  With one call to Child Protective Services, she temporarily over-rode court orders and terminated his parental rights (temporarily).  When CPS started investigating, they discovered multiple warrants for arrest for the mother and others living in her house.  With the children.  There is also great natural evidence that the teenage daughter’s story is fabricated.

But he is still fighting to exonerate himself and get his children back.  He’s considered guilty until proven innocent.  Because it’s all for THE CHILDREN!

A caring friend recently asked me if she and the rest of The Body of Christ had been, and were, letting “you” down.  By “you” she meant single fathers.

I responded, “I don’t think so, but I’ve never thought about it in those terms.  I can tell you this:  Being a single father is a far, far more difficult experience than being a single mother.  I never whine about it and I’m only talking about it now because you asked me.  But the fact is that everyone respects and admires the struggle of a single mother.  Everyone feels sorry for her and has sympathy.  Single fathers are looked upon by most of our society as freaks at best and perverts at worst.  We’re always suspects and we’re always vulnerable to wild allegations from any source.”

I’m not interested here in pointing fingers or going on a rant.  But I want to say that the tables have been turned by feminism (defined properly here as:  anyone with a uterus shall be permitted anything her emotions or hormones dictate but shall never have responsibility for anything) and it’s not a good thing for THE CHILDREN!!!!!  I only appeal to that because it’s true and nobody gives a damn about men.

When I was growing up in the 70’s it seemed that most divorces were because selfish men left their families. That was probably true - then - and certainly awful.  But now feminism has turned the tables completely.

Women have become selfish.  (I think they call it “empowered.”)  ”No fault” divorces are now initiated by women more often than men, by a large margin.  (There’s no such thing as a “no-fault divorce.”  If you’re initiating it without a reason, YOU are at fault.)  Both the society and the courts generally justify the childishness of these women while at the same time both of the former are still stuck in the prejudice of the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s.  As a result, we have an entire generation of men that are doing their best to raise children alone.  Yet they are viewed as undeserving victors when they get custody and then they are under constant scrutiny, always vulnerable to as little as a phone call or a court filing to upset their lives and the lives of the children for which they are working so hard to provide stability.

I’m not optimistic that government will ever fix this.  It’s never done anything else worth while.  So maybe my friend was on to something.

Maybe The Body of Christ needs to be more aware and attentive to this.

There’s definitely a need.

Do you really think these clowns have any clue how to “run a country?”

McCain’s no prize and I won’t be voting because there’s nobody to vote for, but I dare you to read all of this and then try to defend either the idea of democracy or that anybody that subscribes to it has any semblance of understanding about the real world and management of anything in it.

Democrats are ignorant. Every, single, last one of them. The first proof of that is that they would participate in a party that espouses a political philosophy proven to be ineffective - to say the least - centuries ago. They’re feckless retards with no understanding of history - either world or American. They also tend to have little understanding of anything else. It’s dumb with the capital D. All of ‘em. Donkeys indeed.

They’re also incapable of anything that looks like organization or management. Maybe that’s why they’re all pro-union and are constantly working at looking like they understand “the working man.”

This would be funny if it weren’t about a contest for “leader of the free world.”

I’m no fan of feminism but I’m also no sexist. I personally believe that women are inherently stronger then men in most ways and capable of almost anything. But I also believe that 40+ years of feminism in this country has deterioriated the character of women even more than the damage its done to men. (Proverbs 31 has an outline on proper femininity if any of you need a refresher course.)

Hillary Rodman is a perfect example of the mess feminism has made. She’s incompetent and pathetic. She’s a spoiled, suburban, upper-middle class little girl that is chasing her Barbie dreams with an immature and childish sense of entitlement.

She’s surrounded herself for decades with sycophantic womyn just like her. (I include both Bill Rodman-Clinton and Mark Penn in that category.) The result is chaos and disorder everywhere she goes and in everything she does. None of them have a single clue about anything that matters and not a one of them cares about anything but their own childish, petty desire for control.

Don’t take my word for it. Here’s her new campaign manager:

“You may not like the person next to you,” Ms. Williams told dozens of aides who ringed the conference room at the campaign’s Virginia headquarters last month, according to participants. “But you’re going to respect them. And we’re going to work together.”

Or?

What ya got backing that up, Sally Big Britches? We all know you’re afraid of guns.

God help us if that monster manages to conjure public tears enough times to get control of the White House. Billy’s eight embarrassing years will become like a reflection on American pride in comparison.