A Letter To Boycott Scotland

Dear Mr/Ms Boycott Scotland

After hearing of your site through various news sources, I found myself reading it today with a mix of sadness and confusion.

I've always been a fan of the USA and have enjoyed several visits to your country. I enjoy many aspects of your culture, and I admire the 'can do' attitude many Americans have.

Links between our countries run deep. Right back to the very formation of your nation. I remember learning about John Paul Jones, and being fascinated and proud that a Scot should be credited as the father of the world's most powerful navy.

It seems you now wish to sever these ties. Indeed you would revert to the opposite end of the spectrum with a declaration of some sort of trade war against the United Kingdom in general, and Scotland in particular - and all over the release of one dying man.

A sad and strange decision, but one you are entitled to make. For that is what democracy and freedom is about.

Of course, following this decision through to it's logical conclusion - as you surely must - there are several other steps you will now wish to take.

You can write to the UK Prime Minister and Defence Secretary to tell them the USA no longer needs the support of the 9,000 UK troops currently fighting in Afghanistan.

You can write to the commanders of the two Scottish battalions currently training for their next deployment in Afghanistan - over 1000 Scots - to tell them their services are no longer required.

You can write to the friends and families of the 179 British personnel who died in Iraq to tell them why their sacrifice counts less than the release of one dying man.

You can write to the friends and families of the 206 British personnel who have died so far in Afghanistan to tell them why their sacrifice counts less than the release of one dying man.

You can visit Scotland and the wider UK, and seek out the troops who have suffered horrific injuries. Legs and arms blown off, terrible burns, and other traumas, to tell them why their sacrifice counts less than the release of one dying man.

Once you have done all that, feel free to resume your boycott of haggis, kilts, whisky, and travel to Scotland or the UK.

It won't put me off visiting the USA or my American friends. Indeed plans for my next trip are already underway.

I've stood on the edge of the Hoover Dam and wondered at the ingenuity and endeavour that produced it. I've ascended the Empire State Building and marvelled at the cityscape. I've travelled down the Pacific highways and across the Golden Gate; basked in the hospitality of cosmopolitan San Francisco; played poker in Las Vegas; been below deck on the USS Constitution in Boston; watched The Cubbies win at Wrigley Field, and still I'll come back for more.

Because friends, and allies, see the bigger picture. They respect the differences in the cultures and legal systems of their comrades, and work with them in partnership for the greater common good.

Friends may often disagree, but they often agree to differ. That is a lesson you may wish to reflect upon.

Best wishes.

Div.

Not Dead, Just Resting

Nice to know some people do still pass by here, even if they mainly seem to be spamsters - who are rapidly deleted!

Back soon I hope.

Question

Is finding a young fox sound asleep in your garden a sign of good luck?


I'll know the answer later today.

Update: Apparently not.

This is just cruelly tempting...

The Inbetweeners

Can't remember the last time I actually made time to sit and watch a TV show week-on-week.

I missed the first series of The Inbetweeners but caught up with it on 4OD when a workmate recommended it. K and I were hooked from Episode 1. It's fucking hilarious. Good soundtrack too.

Series 2 is on now and the V+ is set, but we've still made sure to catch every episode as broadcast.

Seems a shame it's on E4, where viewing figures around one million are a top performance.

A few snippets courtesy of the E4 website:

The Intro:


The mum IS fit:


Thank fuck my driving test didn't go like this:


Donovan is hard, and Jay is delusional:

Scandie Poker - It's In The Genes

Or is that jeans?

Next time some Scandie lunatic four bets you pre-flop with J3, pause and reflect it's not just starting hand values they have an unorthodox approach to.

Fond Memories

Where I used to live.

Commuting was a LOT easier then.

I'm not sure what the actual point of Google Street View is, but bloody hell the detail is phenomenal!

(Maybe they could devote some of that techie genius to making Blogger support iframes, or am I missing something?)

Stoked

Not a lot of time for poker right now.

Aside from work I am wrapped up in a personal project so gloriously inappropriate for the current world economic situation, a few of my workmates clearly think I have lost my marbles.

Whereas I'm more enthused that I've been in a long time about something that doesn't involve a Miranda Kerr bikini shoot.

If I can pull off the deal I'm aiming for, I'll be ecstatic, but in dire need of improving both my work-rate and win-rate at the tables to supplement the family coffers.

Badder Than Michael Jackson

Still plugging away at the tables. Mainly at Everest Poker aka The Land That Sklansky Forgot.

Alas I am running badder than Michael Jackson in a kindergarten right now.

Fortunately I had, for reasons entirely non-bankroll related, decided to drop right down to the micro-stakes for a while.

Which means I've been up and down more than a crack ridden whore's knickers, but ultimately haven't lost or made a penny since Christmas.

Could be worse I suppose.

Growing Old Disgracefully

Of the many signs of growing old, one I was not familiar with until this weekend was the experience of attending a 21st birthday party where the celebration was in honour of a very close friend's child.

A close friend who happens to be almost exactly the same age as me. A close friend who, yes, has a 21-year old daughter. That must make me pretty old!

On the plus side, my Friday night plans earned me a bit of kudos with the younger members of my work team. I'm pretty sure I could have sold tickets to a few of them.

Also on the plus side, I could honestly put my hand-on-heart and say I actually did recognise some of the music the DJ was playing. It didn't even seem too loud.

Still down with the kids! Umm, or something like that.

On the slightly disgraceful side, when faced with a sly 'anyone caught your eye?' question from the wife - who had cunningly waited until the booze was clearly seeping into my veins - my answer was honest enough to be credible, but needed a degree of obfuscation to remove the risk of a knee to the groin.

Being a 21st there was of course more boozing going on than the BMA would approve of, and some people took it worse than others.

None more so than the guy who lapsed into incoherence; had to be carried from the club; assisted into a taxi (but only after being handed a plastic bag at the insistence of the driver); and was last seen vomiting from the open cab window, as it weaved it's way through the traffic on Glasgow's party central - Sauchiehall Street.

Par for the course if you're an under-ager who outsmarted the bouncers.

Slightly embarrassing if you're a 20-something living it large with your mates.

When you happen to be aforementioned very close friend and father of the birthday girl, that's got to be a Medal of Honour for growing old disgracefully.

Bonus Rakeback On Everleaf Network

Just a quick piece of pimpage for Minted Poker - part of the Everleaf Network.

Sign up through RTR before 1st February 2009 and get 46% rakeback - as well as a 100% to $400 signup bonus.

As I understand it, the standard rakeback terms for the site are 30% if you register direct, so it's a fair margin extra to go through RTR.

Truth be told, I've more of these accounts than I could shake a mouse at, but it never hurts to be an early adopter if there's a long term benefit to be locked in.

Valentines Day Is 14th February

Don't forget it!

This has been a public service announcement in collaboration with Agent Provocateur.

Other People's Rakeback FTW

It's fair to say my poker play over the last year has been somewhat fragmented. Rather than putting in a major effort on any one site, I've jumped around a fair bit.

Which meant my cash was somewhat thinly spread.

In these straitened times, I figured I should consolidate my funds whilst taking the opportunity to do a quick audit of my online finances.

Which led me, eventually, to my long dormant Eurobet account. Within which I was a little surprised to find over $1000. Eh, what?

After some sleuthing I discovered that the payments had come from Rake The Rake - my longstanding and super reliable rakeback provider.

So out-of-touch have I been recently that I hadn't previously realised they have upgraded their website and introduced an online reporting system.

This allowed me to discover that around a year ago someone signed up using my referral code, and has since been raking around $5000 per month - mainly on Betfair.

I'd left my payment option defaulted to Eurobet when I created my Rake The Rake account, so the payments had been accruing without my noticing them.

All of which came as a very pleasant surprise. If I knew who Mr Betfair was, I'd gladly buy him a drink.

A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words

Created by cartuja at Kerrydale Street.

A belated Happy New Year to one and all.

Reaffirmation

When you get to my age it's nice to know life can still hold the occasional pleasant surprise.

Last Saturday was one such event. K had decided to give me an early birthday treat of an overnight stay on the east coast - minus kids - to take in a Biffy Clyro gig.

The Biff are one of those local bands who've been around for a while now, and who I've been vaguely aware of, but knew little about.

Recently they seem to be on a real upwards trajectory on the back of some songs I've caught on the radio and really liked. A proper old fashioned slow burner of a band who've served their time and seem to be reaping the rewards.

Rewards such as a sell out pre-Christmas tour, culminating in a gig at Glasgow's biggest arena - the SECC. The SECC has the scale for the biggest bands, but it's a soulless tin box and not on my list of favourite venues.

K however had been thinking creatively and landed two tickets for their warm up 'pre-tour' gig at the Alhambra Theatre in Dunfermline.

We very rarely do live gigs these days but the thought of a hot band at an unknown, but presumably intimate, venue was sufficiently intriguing an option to have us both eagerly anticipating the night.

First pleasant surprise was the venue. The Alhambra is an old 1920s theatre that has obviously seen a fair bit of money recently.

All the seats had been stripped out, so it was standing room only, including, it seemed on the balcony above the stalls where we located ourselves. I doubt there was a bad spot in the entire house to watch the gig from.

The combination of historic setting, modern facilities, and a generously sized bar with minimal queueing was a good start to the evening. I mused that it must be quite similar to how the long departed Glasgow Apollo would have appeared in it's heyday.

We easily found space near the sound desk and awaited the arrival of the band.

First impression. FUCK ME. Possibly the loudest band I've ever heard. Simple but effective lighting effects, almost zero pause between songs, and a forty five minute blitzkrieg of raw power almost blew me away.

I feared my ears may bleed, but I was loving it - despite a few crackles and bangs from the PA as the sound guys fought to harness the on-stage energy.

Just as I was beginning to think this is amazing but a little light to balance the shade wouldn't go amiss, the band paused for breath - and produced a gorgeous short acoustic set that took my breath away.

There's something distinctly incongruous about watching a sweaty, hairy singer and a drummer who looks like he repairs tanks for a living, singing beautiful harmonious tunes, but it works.

Then the noise returned and the rest of the concert was just a sea of adrenalin culminating in one of the best stage dives I've seen live. Proper rock'n'roll to finish the night off.

The whole night just blew me away. Even if my ears were still ringing 48 hours later.

It's a long time since a gig has left me feeling so alive, and it's made me regret not going to more in the last few years. The counterpoint to that argument being, of course, that most gigs probably aren't so good.

Shannon Matthews Revisited

When Shannon Matthews was rescued by the police, I had a right go at her mother, Karen Matthews.

Unwittingly I was surprisingly close to the truth when I joked about Karen fancying her chances as an entrepreneur.

It now transpires she was part of a kidnap plot to claim the reward money.

Even more shockingly the police have proved she was feeding Shannon - and probably the rest of her brood - a cocktail of prescription drugs for at least 20 months.

Temazepam, amitriptyline, tramadol and dihydrocodeine - with the dosages peaking during school holiday period.

In my earlier post I wrote, 'How she managed to get time for a social life once she'd got to four or five kids, while still in her twenties, is a puzzle to me.'

Well, I'll puzzle no more. But I won't be taking any of her parenting tips to heart.

It's quite clear the kids were viewed as an inconvenience. A nuisance. But they were a very reliable revenue stream. Worth keeping around!

Karen was making £400 a week in benefits. That's £20,800 a year.

Or, to put it another way, the after tax earnings of someone on around £28,000 per year - and that's before taking into account the various discounts or freebies benefit claimants can qualify for.

What a farce of a system. What a horrible woman.

This has been a particularly harrowing period for child related stories. I'd like to think the powers-that-be will be energised by these events and do something positive, but I'm not holding my breath.

On A Lighter Note...

...is this how the most famous dwarf in poker celebrates becoming the 8th best poker player in Latin America?

We should be told.

Who Killed Baby P?

They did.

Suck that up Google, Yahoo, MSN, et al.

I can't recall ever being as utterly disgusted and outraged by a case as this one.

Not just for the horrific brutality inflicted on a defenceless child over an extended period of time, but for the shameless self-serving arse covering of Haringey Council.

Sharon Shoesmith, Clive Preece and co. can rot in Hell along with the bastards who did this.

There are very personal reasons that make me feel even more strongly than I might otherwise do about this case, but writing about them would be too difficult right now.

I feel like a volcano ready to explode. I hope there are lots of occupants of maximum-security prisons around England feeling exactly the same way.

2008 WSOP Live Streaming For Nowt

Looks like the link I posted last year is still going strong this year.

No idea if this is legit or not and I'm too lazy to find out.

http://www.channelsurfing.net/watch-wsop.html

Lewis Hamilton

I'm not a huge fan of Formula One but this afternoon's events were just mind blowing.

The drama, spectacle, and last ditch victory from the jaws of defeat ending, was the stuff of sporting legend.

The sight of the Ferrari team celebrating, only to slump in disbelief as Hamilton caught Timo Glock on the last bend, took me back many years to another event I had an interest in, but no emotional attachment to, which has lived long in sporting folklore.

On that day, Michael Thomas was the hero putting the local favourites to the sword in the dying seconds.