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To fortify the point of how sharks in a Casino can weasel you out of your money, here's a good joke...
Casino Online - Free Online Casino Play TipsThe Poker MoleA mole, in spy terminology, is a double agent who worms his way into a high post in some country’s intelligence agency and then takes home secrets. A poker mole is a hustler who worms his way into a home game by pretending to play ineptly, and then takes home money. Once he’s secured a place for himself as a regular in a soft game, he can’t be dislodged by anything short of nuclear technology. I once got a call from a friend who hosted a weekly home game and needed advice on how to get rid of one of these poker moles. I didn’t play in that game myself because they favored weird concoctions like “zigzag” and “pass the trash,” but moles don’t care. They’re such hustlers, you could introduce a game just invented by Peruvian yak herders and they’d know the correct strategy. Anyway, my friend described a familiar story. Somebody brought Mr. Mole to the game one night. He seemed like a fine fellow — affable, friendly, loved poker, but couldn’t play a lick. He was a perfect addition to the game. Naturally, he lost, and was invited back. He lost again, and the next few times as well. He said that he was well-to-do and didn’t care about the money. He was punctual and behaved like a perfect gentleman. He lavishly praised the host, the host’s lovely wife, and the host’s lovely home. He told funny jokes. He brought nice cakes to the game, helped with the cleanup, and ingratiated himself as expertly as Kato Kaelin. However, once he nailed down a permanent slot, a funny thing happened - his play began to improve. He told fewer jokes and paid more attention to what went on. He tightened up and usually had the best hand at the showdown. The former calling station had become a Casino solid, aggressive player who bullied the game and took down the money regularly. “Gee, my luck seems to have changed,” he’d remark disarmingly. The other players knew differently; it finally dawned on them that they had allowed a Frankenstein monster into their midst. “What do I do?” pleaded my friend. “Throw the bum out,” I said. “Tell him the game is full and you don’t need him anymore.” “Gee, we can’t do that,” said my friend. “He’s such a nice guy. He hasn’t done anything wrong. We can’t ask him to leave just because he plays better than us, can we?” I sighed. “OK, maybe he’ll leave on his own if you do things to make him feel unwelcome.” A few weeks later my friend called again. All the players had ganged up on the mole. They made remarks about how tight he had become. They stared at him sullenly. They talked to him as little as possible and refused to laugh at his jokes. When he dealt, someone would pointedly request that the cards be cut an extra time. In short, they did their best to make him feel like a ham sandwich at an Orthodox Jewish wedding. It was like water off a duck’s back. The mole wanted their money, not their fellowship., and he was now winning more than ever in a casino. “Switch the game to a night when he can’t play,” I suggested. “Doesn’t he visit his sick, old mother in a nursing home every Thursday evening?” They switched the game to Thursday. The mole simply stopped visiting his sick, old mother. What the heck, he was winning a lot more money from them at poker than he was winning from his mother at gin rummy, anyway. My friend began using more extreme measures. He nailed a big, red sign to his door that read: “DANGER, STAY OUT! SMALLPOX QUARANTINE!” The mole walked in just the same. “No problem,” he assured the players. “I’ve had my shots.” They tried bolting the doors and putting blankets over the windows to make it look like nobody was home. The mole used bolt-cutters to come in the back way. They put an entire fumigation tent over the house. The mole just slipped in underneath the canvas. “I thought it was a circus tent and you were having a party,” he explained. Finally, my friend went totally berserk. He sold his house, quit his job, changed his name, moved to another state, located seven poker and casino players in his neighborhood, and started a new game — a lot of trouble, but worth it. The next week, his doorbell rang on game night. “Hi, Fred,” said the mole. “I happened to be passing through and heard you had a new game…" |
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