Destroying Mike May

Mike May is single-handedly being my muse for this journal. It's very fitting because he's actually my own audience as well. (Hi, Mike!) Let me tell you a story about Mike May that he doesn't even know. I think the both of us started playing cards at a place called "Diamond Club". While I can't speak for Mike, the Diamond Club was certainly my favorite place in the world to play cards; it's a pity that it's long been shut down and is only a distant memory. Of course, some friends of mine, with very much help from Mike, are in the midst of producing a documentary which will outline the underground clubs that make New York poker.

I was just a beginner when I started playing cards at the Diamond Club, but Mike was already well on his way to becoming a pro. Needless to say, he helped me along with the education and took nothing from me except for a lot of little round chips. I was like a machine back then, a loose, passive player that just kept sliding chips ahead. You know those gaming machines in the casinos that push the quarters, but the quarters never fall? Well, I'd push chips out and they'd fall...right into the hands of the likes of Mike May.

Years later, I re-introduced myself to Mike but never mentioned the fact that I think he took a good chunk of my law school spending money away from me when I was naught but a poor student. By-this-time, Mike had already established his name in the poker world, having placed in several tournaments and was well on his way to being known as "the Claw". I pretended to be his friend so that he would take me under his wing and teach me all his poker tricks, and then I could one day take revenge upon his pour soul and bust him into eternity. No luck. Not only does he become a better player day-by-day, but he sought protection in the foreign land of Florida, where bingo reigns supreme and poker players resort to poker cruises to claw social security money away from retired folk who need it for life-sustaining medications.

Time will heal broken hearts, but not mine. What healed my poor bitter soul and revenge-seeking mind was a lovely [read = hot] girl that convinced me that if I lifted my lifelong goal of taking Mike out, she'd sleep with me. So I did, and it was so worth it. Now I am forever indebted to him for helping me score what I could never otherwise score. Thanks, Mike.