Trials of a Poker Apprentice: The Cthulhu of card games

Sorry to have disappeared for the past few days. I started off not posting because I was just exhausted from my trip, but then couldn't post after I became thoroughly disgusted with the game.

It's break time for me, folks. I've just spent too much time lately beating my head against a wall to feel that I can play my best game right now. No point in throwing good money after bad.

The most frustrating thing is that I went on a little run and was feeling good about my game before my latest crash-and-burn. I played a lot of razz and was doing well -- watching my good hands remain good hands, finding lots of players who seemingly just threw as much money as it took to get to showdown -- when suddenly everything turned around in an instant. Someday, I might actually look back and view this run with the painful fondness other war stories engender, but right now it just sucks really bad. In fact, the predominate feeling I have is one of betrayal, as if the game itself intentionally turned against me.

Had I not been the one playing, it would have been a truly amazing thing to watch. Razz seems to be a game of streaks anyway, and you can spend hours folding before you finally pick up three good cards, get your money in, only to watch three face cards destroy any hope you had of finally winning a hand. I can deal with that. I can be patient and wait my turn. But this recent streak just had me feeling that poker hates me.

Over and over it would happen. I would be showing A23 with a 56 in the hole, my opponent would be showing J46. I'd catch an inconsequential bad card, such as another deuce and he'd catch a K and start raising and reraising me. I'm gladly capping the action. And then he'd river the damned perfect card he needed to make a A2346 to beat my A2356.

Or I'd have four cards to a wheel, only to watch the last three cards all be jacks.

Or I'd have a wheel after five cards with a clueless opponent showing two face cards calling or even raising me all the way to river and catching three runners to tie me.

To be sure, there was a fair amount of me trying to bluff the unbluffable thrown in, as well as a healthy dose of the "If they can play shit cards and win, I'm going to do it too!" attitude, but that only came later, as a consequence of the run more than a factor behind it.

Razz must be the most despicable game on the planet. If games can be said to be alive, then razz is a sadistic beast, beating you down, toying with you, then beating you down again. You are the mouse; razz is the cat playing with your entrails while you scream.

Razz is the Cthulhu of card games, slowly driving you to madness before destroying you. Russian roulette has better EV.

Razz is psychologically and emotionally destructive, and those who play it should be locked away and forgotten, their names never whispered again.

Unfortunately, it also happens to be a game I'm good at. God help me.

And, once again, apologies are in order, since I have returned from an extended absence only to rant and wail. Sorry, razz just does that to you. If you feel like you are just too happy with your life, like you need blistering pain and bottomless despair to be complete, then I highly recommend it.

Let's just end this post and move on to the news. We'll just chalk today up as a day of soul-cleansing. I'll be back tomorrow with a real post.