Trey Anastasio will make his third appearance at Bonnaroo with a very special late night performance backed by his new band. Trey appeared at the inaugural festival in 2002 and again in 2004 with his horn-driven ten-piece band. Last year’s show featured an opening set of self-composed selections with the Nashville Chamber Orchestra.

After a successful (and very fun) sold-out four-show run last December, Mike Gordon will perform at Bonnaroo in a special collaboration with NYC improv favorites Benevento/Russo Duo. Mike played at Bonnaroo in 2003 with Leo Kottke.

David Lemieux has one of the greatest jobs on earth. Not only does he get paid to listen to Grateful Dead music that no one else has access to, but he also helps decide what we actually do get to hear. As the Grateful Dead's archivist, David holds the key to the much talked about Vault.

The thing that impressed me the most about the bloggers was their level of intelligence and friendliness.

I shower and head straight for the bar. Only one thing is gonna cure what ails me: booze and lots of it. After praying with Saint Hair of the Dog for a bit, I snack on some olives for breakfast before finally hitting the card room and sitting with Pauly and Derek. Had a damn good time hanging with these two, not only here, but all weekend. Pauly's blog doesn't do him justice, believe me, you've got to hang with The Good Doctor to get a full sense of his huge, gregarious personality. You can't make a guy like Pauly up.

The big question of the day is . . . what kind of food did I eat at the breakfast? Since I was a little drunk, I definitely needed some food in my belly before the tourney started. I ate 7 bagels (yes, 7). I drank 10 glasses of water and ate the world's greatest muffin. That muffin must've had some crack in it because it tasted so good that I ate two. And to think, earlier in the morning, I turned down an opportunity to share one of these muffins with EvaCanHang. What was I thinking?

Then, about five minutes later while pacing in the hall like a patient waiting for the results of a tumor biopsy, I hear a commotion from around the corner? either a pack of bloodthirsty Huns from a Credit Card commercial were decending upon the Casino or the bloggers had arrived. Leading the pack was none other than Pauly with about two dozen Internet scribes in tow.

What a stellar line-up! In no particular order: Charlie Shoten, Ron Rose (who provided free copies of his coffee table book Poker Aces to all bloggers), Marcel Luske, Kiril whatshisname, Tom McEvoy, and Eveyln Ng. Wow. I was privileged to have some one-on-one time with both Charlie and Ron, and I can confirm that they are very nice guys indeed!

That Don Swayze staring dude came rolling over. "Hi, you must be BG. I'm Casey, from the 'Can't Hang Crew.'" Now, far be it from me to know who was in and who was out from the Can't Hang Crew. I didn?t meet a "Casey" in Philly, but whatever. I didn't remember meeting Phil out there either. I gave him a quick hello and turned back to Hank. "Casey" tapped me on the shoulder, and let me in on the joke. "Naw BG, I'm Iggy."

No shit! "Aw yeah, I?m seeing it now? The 'skinny Travis Tritt!'" Iggy had described himself as such previously, but he should give himself a little more credit than that. Tritt's losing the hairline rapidly, while Iggy's got a little more going on up top.

"Did you see me staring at you?" I lied. I told him no. I mean, I guess I really didn't technically staring at me, but trust me, I knew from where my earlier discomfort had arisen. Whatever though, I think I would have been disappointed had I met Iggy and he had not tried to dick with me somehow. Regardless, now that Iggy and Hank were in the fold, and knowing that I was going to meet Grubs on Saturday, my blogger meet-up wishlist was nearly complete.

I had to let it go, and I eventually did. I told myself I'd somehow turn these bad beats into something positive. It took a while but I think I did.

Initially, I lamented the fact that every time I played above my normal limits and "took a chance," I seemed to fail. This was no exception. There are those players who take the chance, hit it big, and never look back. For whatever reason, not me. Upon further thought, I realized I played those hands about as good as anyone could. I had all my money in the pot when I was a 93% and a 95% favorite. What more could you ask for really? Losing the hands was just a formality, an occurance out of my control.

As absurd as it may sound, I took home from Vegas a greater confidence in my play. I was making good reads and good bets, and that's all you can really do at the tables.

Once he left I started accumulating chips fairly rapidly and went from a one rack buy-in to 3 full racks fairly quickly. But that was it. At some point I decided it was almost unfair that the games were this soft so I decided to handicap myself by getting good and drunk. I couldn?t win any more after that but I wasn?t loosing either so I ended up sticking around until 7:30am and was at the same three racks I had been at, at around 2am.

At the start of the game, one lady had sat down, I think realized she was in the wrong game, and left. Another lady filled this empty seat, but this one got us going. During this point in time, we were expecting Maudie at any moment. Felicia remarked that the new arrival could fit the description we had for her and wouldn't it be funny if that was Maudie pulling a fast one on us; just sitting down at our game without introducing herself. Well, she neither said, "yes, I'm Maudie", nor, "no, I'm not, now shut up about it"--grin--but we did have a good laugh with her... While at the table, Al was downing SoCo shots. Once, upon getting a refill, set it down on the table that was sitting between him and the lady. All of a sudden the lady starts turning purple, exclaiming that she was sorry but she just drank Al's drink accidentally; all the while fanning herself after the unexpected hot liquor was coarsing down her throat! She laughed along with us and Al gave her the rest of his water, "don't worry about it, here, drink this."

Pauly agonized and looked like he was giving birth. Finally, though, he folded, face up. Pocket tens. Everyone gasped. He was HU against Max, with a premium hand. No, no, no. He had only about 1200 left after limping in. The blinds were 100/200. No, no, no. I told him why he couldn't fold that hand, in that position, under those circumstances. At first, Max kidded him by saying it was a good fold, but later told him the truth of the situation. Don't make big laydowns in little tournaments, and if you ever make a big lay down, period, never show it, or the table will run you over. Max showed AK.

Okay, so the funny story was that after this hand, Pauly went on his premium run. During this run, Max looked at me like he was really suffering and said, "Couldn't you have waited to tell him he was supposed to call with those tens? Waited until after the tournament?" Naturally we both saw the hands Pauly was getting, because he always got action, due to the structure of the tourney. At the time, it was a really funny comment, though, and I wish it translated better to paper.

I'm dealt two black 6's and Otis raises in front of me. I call, hoping to catch a 6 on the flop. It didn't come, but it wasn't the worst flop ever: 2-3-5, all clubs. Otis checks, I bet out $6 and I believe Otis raised me. I was worried about a flush, but had to call. The turn was the 4 of clubs. Jackpot. I've never had a straight flush at a B&M table before, but I think I hid it well. I was really hoping Otis didn't have the ace of clubs. That would be a hellish beat. He checked and I bet out.

"I can't call you," Otis told me. I said he could and that I wouldn't bet anymore. He paused, and then sheepishly turned over the Poker Bloggers favorite hand, the HAMMER. That's right, I cracked his HAMMER with a straight flush.

When I turned over my 6, the table erupted. It also meant I got to spin the Excalibur's money wheel that brought me an extra 20 dollars (and a really awful baseball cap).

Mrs. Can't Hang downed a shot of 7:30am tequila and played video poker. I counted the hours of sleep I would get if I went to bed at that very moment. At some point, someone there (I know who it is, but I won't say. He/She can cop to it if they want) said the funniest thing I'd heard in hours.

"This is surreal. I'm sitting at a bar at 7:30 in the morning with Patrick Swayze and Tony Siragusa."

I digested that and expressed my thanks for the summation of the morning.

At 8am, just two hours before the meet and greet at Sam's Town was supposed to begin, I quietly slipped away from the growing group and rode the elvators to the tenth floor of the hotel. I found a smelly room, full of people, and no bed space available. I collapsed on the floor and wondered if I would wake up in time for the tournament.

Wife of G-Rob : So, how much did you lose?

G-Rob : Some

Wife of G-Rob : Did you play badly?

G-Rob : Not at all. I dropped the hammer in a tournament.

Wife of G-Rob : Is that good?

G-Rob : No. Its the worst hand in poker. But let's see if we can buy our groceries with pride.

As we pull up to Sam's Town in this monstrosity (which had to do something like a 7 point turn just to get IN the driveway), the speakers ramming, there are a bunch of younger kids standing in or near the cab stand. Everyone exits the limo via the right door and I'm waiting for everyone to unload. Just as the last of the passengers are disembarking, the kids run over and open the left hand door.

"Is there anyone famous in here!"

There I am. On my knees, trying to slide over to get out of this beast. I turned to them, surely looking rather disheveled. I DO have a lot of hair and I WAS hanging out of a limo.

"Yeah, how you doin' kids. My name's Al. I'm the lead singer of the Al Can't Hang Experiment. You wanna autograph?"

At that point I pull out my trusty notepad and pen (which have barely been used for NOTES) and started signing AlCan'tHang. I wrote out four of the them and then apologized.

"Sorry kids, but I've really gotta go. There are some important people upstairs waiting for me."

My 40 hours in Vegas exceeded all expectations and all fears were quashed immediately upon that first 'Hello...' Someone wrote - and forgive me for not remembering which one of my brethren bloggers wrote it - "It was like meeting your best friends for the first time."

Figuratively - and not so figuratively - speaking, I had roughly 30 pairs of arms reach out to me a gather me into this unique community of people, who hail from such diverse backgrounds and super-glued together by a shared passion for a little card game. A little card game.

I was overwhelmed at the unbridled acceptance of one who dwells outside their generational sphere. As a theatre person, generational differences go unnoticed so it's something I take for granted within that social sphere, but not something I expect outside of it. I felt at home.

My only regret was that I didn't have more time. There were so many conversations I wanted to have - and maybe even a shot of Tequila or two with the CANHang posse.

Pauly was gracious and let me virtually stick to him like glue. Iggy - we have several 'til dawn conversations ahead of us - and Confederacy of the Dunces will be on my bookshelf soon. CJ - what a treat our 2 mile stroll down the strip was, poker celebrities and all...oh, dear godfrey, I could go on and on...

This was the first. There will never be another first. We we always remember our first...

We meander down to the poker room, which consisted of about 12 tables and was mostly populated by locals, cowboys, and really, really old people when we walked in as a group. I heard more than one of the players seated in the cash games grumble about "internet journal posters or some kind of bastards" as we entered. If only they knew that we had hijacked "their" game and taken it to new, amazing heights, across borders, and so on. But they were clueless, and probably pissing away their Social Security checks on a Saturday afternoon.

Hank wanders over and we get to talking about craps. I figure this trip should be the trip I learn how to play. Hell, it was probably my subconcious remembering the stories of the last time Hank and Iggy played craps in Vegas that made me want to so bad.

Hank was cool, he explained how to bet, when to bet, and more importantly, when to press!

Before long I was doing pretty good. I had a few good rolls of the dice, and all of a sudden we have visitors. BG, Al, Big Mike, and Tony all roll up to the table. I think Hank and Tony are the only ones who know what they are doing, although I'm learning quick. Well on my way towards hammered, I begin to get a little slap happy. Instead of just asking Kenneth to press my bet, I start semi-yelling "Press it KennNETH!"

You can't just ask him to press it, you see. You need to sort of yell it, and the inflection has to be correct. You need to start Kenneth out low and soft, and then roll the volume up as you get to the end. Otherwise the press wouldn't work, or so I was thinking.

Chatting, yelling for points, screaming Press it KennNETH, and boozing was too much fun to put into words. I can't do it justice. Even though I lost money doing it, I couldn't stop thinking about craps with the bloggers the rest of the weekend.

I looked past HD and threw envy at two young'uns playing Dance Dance Revolution because ol' grubby has neither the coordination nor the trendy shoes to try jumping around on a platform set to music and lighted footprints.

But that didn't stop me from wagering.

We each picked a guy (my guy's name was Jess) and bought them into the next game. Our bet was $20.

It was quickly clear that this was not my guy's night. He had sat out the earlier round, and I thought perhaps he would have more energy. But as hdouble pointed out, his guy was warmed up. I was hoping to get the girl who was really good and on par with hdouble's guy, but she opted out probably because she didn't believe in gambling. She'll never make it in Vegas.

I sweated Jess and yelled encouragements at him. When that didn't work, I played dirty and tried to distract the other guy by yelling, "Hey there's Britney Spears" and "Your shoelace is untied." I even offered a $10 bribe to the other guy if he'd accidentally "fall."

Despite the winner having the most accumulated points, hdouble gave me a break when his guy won the first round and Jess squeaked a win on the second: whoever won the third round would win the prop bet.

It was neck-and-neck for maybe the first 10 seconds, then hdouble's guy catapulted into the lead by at least triple, and Jess choked.

I doubt he'll return to the Dance Dance Revolution courts anytime soon, as Jess hung his head in shame on the inside and appeared sportsmanlike on the outside. I know a bit about the pain in facing your friends after a failed DDR round.

I gave $20 to hdouble, who then tipped his guy and ran off with the rest of my money before I could ask for double or nothing.

And I have to admit - I was a bit star-struck. I mean - poker pros are normal people - but to an avid player like myself (and other bloggers) who religiously watches any and all poker on TV they can find - these guys are my heroes.

I don't think I can express how tongue-tied and awed I was with being able to shake hands and have conversations with them about poker.

In a word: awesome.

Otis, after bestowing the mocking monkier on me, decided that what I needed was to play a little Pai Gow poker. This is a game for idiots. Seven cards are delt to you and you basically make two hands out of them. If you are too drunk, or just too stupid to do this, the dealer will play the hand for you. Like I said: a game for idiots. I settled in with about $80 in chips and promptly ordered a jack and coke. The drink service at the Luxor (Otis had decided that a change of scenery would do us some good) was fast, and before I knew it, I'd lost about $30 in chips but consumed about four rounds of sweet booze filled cola. There was a really weird guy at the table with rancid breath and Otis and I decided it was time to bolt.

I shall say this, however - I was sitting at a table with two poker professionals and people who made my six months' experience look like about six hours. My only goal was not to go out first, which I made. And it was a piss poor way to play a tournament.

If you're going to play in a poker tournament, it's easy to play not to lose. And I can safely guarantee you will not win. You need to be willing to take chances and go balls out to take down pots. I know I didn't do this, and I bounced early. To be fair, I hadn't eaten in about 18 hours and was still nicely hung over.

I'll also say this: everyone at the tournament was very friendly and made me feel very welcome, which I greatly appreciate.

A few people came to say hello to us "bloggers" and then were off to the tournament at Bellagio. Marcel Luske, Kirill Gerasimov, Evelyn Ng, and Ron Rose.

Ron Rose arrived about the same time I did. He brought each of us bloggers one of his books. I still find myself laughing over the following incident. Felicia Lee made a comment that went something like this, with the queries by Ron. She didn't like his book - why? - because of some of the players that were in it - like who? - John Bonetti.

Ron opened the book to a certain page, ripped the page out, went to another page and ripped it out. He then folded the pages in half and then ripped them in half and pushed her the book with something like, "I aim to please."

I'm still laughing over it. It was funny as hell then and maybe more so now. He did it so smoothly and with a straight face. It looked like he'd rehearsed it but I think it was all spur of the moment.

Every time I go to Vegas I get shitfaced, act like an idiot, and then come home and tell everyone who wasn't there all about it. I don't see why this time should be any different. I went to play poker with some like-minded individuals, place a few bets, drink a few coldies, and destroy a few buffets.

Those were my expectations. Needless to say they were blown completely out of the fucking water. Although I can't recollect precisely what happened at certain times with certain individuals, I do know that I'll never forget last weekend...

At some point, just when I thought I had seen it all... the monkey on the dog was shown on the big screen. Yeah, ESPN2 had full rodeo coverage all weekend long and that was the main attraction on the big screen in the poker room. When they unleashed the monkey, the entire crowd began hootin' and hollerin'. It reminded me of the insanity on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange. It was one of those bizarre scenes that you completely miss the context of while reading my report in your cubicle at work. But trust me, if you were shitfaced at 4am, floating around in a sea of loose cowboys at a poker room in Las Vegas and you saw two hundred and fifty people cheering for a monkey dressed up like a cowboy on a Collie... then maybe you too would start to think that time travel is probable, peace in the Middle East is possible and that I'm 100% pretty sure I'll catch my next gutshot draw, even if it is a one outer.

Certain moments in your life define your existence. That was one of them... a monkey in a cowboy outfit riding a dog.

That was also the only other sentence I had scribbled in my notes. So the next time someone corners me at one of those dreadful New York cocktail parties and asks me if I believe in God, I can honestly say, "I do believe that monkeys can ride dogs. I've seen it in Vegas."

So what happened? The answer that makes those close to the underappreciated actor most comfortable is that it was a terribly heavy year for best actor candidates. If Tom Cruise and Javier Bardem and Jim Carrey couldn't make it, how could Giamatti? There is some truth to this theory, while in the supporting actor category, the pickings were so slim that Alan Alda got nominated for playing Alan Alda for roughly 10 minutes. It could also be that he is still too young and not a big enough star to be getting nominations just for being a great actor. As bald as he is, Giamatti is just 37 years old. This didn't stop Jamie Foxx, who is six months younger than Giamatti, with a much shorter resume, from being nominated. But Foxx had "The Role."

"The Role" supersedes all the rules of Oscar history. Playing a legendary musician who likes heroin. Playing a girl who is pretending she is a boy. Being a gorgeous blonde who puts on 40 pounds and some freckly make-up to play a killer lesbian. Cha-ching! Paul Giamatti plays a regular guy who isn't very happy. He doesn't kill anyone. He doesn't have sex on screen. He doesn't shoot up or get sick or wear a wig. He drinks wine, complains a lot and wears ugly shoes. "Sideways" offered the role of his career so far, but it isn't "The Role."

I was in the middle of the hand... and I had the absolute nuts too in a pot well over $100.

Seat 1: Pauly
Seat 5: Guy #1
Seat 7: Drunk wife
Seat 8: Her husband

I just sat down at the table. A young, chubby girl with breasts the size of a microwave sitting in seat 2 was wasted as she sipped on vodka cranberries. Later on Grubby and I had an interesting conversation trying to decide if she was a hooker or not. Anyway, I must say for the first few minutes at my table, she was talking non stop to me. I never had a chance to glance down at the other side of the table to see who was who. I never knew that the people sitting in seats 7 and 8 were a married couple. A new dealer sat down. Since I'm in Seat 1, right next to the dealer, I always make small talk. I asked her how her night had been going, "I just started. Ask me in a little bit," she said.

I'm on the button, I have Q-9s and I limped in a seven way pot on a $2-6 spread table. The flop has an ace but with two flush cards. Everyone limped and I called. No flush for me on the turn and ended up raising and got a few callers. The river was a King of spades. I hit the flush... the nut flush. I had the best hand at that point. Apparently, I spaced out for a few seconds. Everyone had checked to me. I was thinking the proper amount to bet to get the most callers. At that point the drunk woman in seat 7 flipped over her cards. She wasn't paying attention and thought I checked the betting. I told the dealer I needed "time" and was deciding. Dealer told her to turn her cards back over.

"What the fuck," she said pointing to me, "he checked."

"No, it's still his turn to act," replied the dealer. She was angry. I bet $6. The guy in seat 4, check raised me! Great opportunity to win a bigger pot. I love when people bet into me when I had the nuts. Everyone in the hand folded. I was ready to raise and picked up a few chips.

"Way to go you dumb shit," said the man in seat 4 to the married woman.

"Hey, watch you language!" shouted the dealer.

"Go fuck yourself!" she yelled in his direction.

"It won't be as good as fucking you," he quickly shot back. I was about to utter, "Raise," when the husband in seat 8 jumped up and ran towards the guy on seat 4 who stood up ready to confront the angry husband. He tackled him and threw him to the table one row over (in front of the Bad Beat Wheel). Chips went flying everywhere when they landed on the table. It was surreal, just like out of a movie. No one saw them coming.

"Security!" I heard someone yell as they were rolling on the table and an old lady got caught in the fracas.

Right away, I said, "Everyone, protect your chips," as I slammed my hand down on my hole cards to protect my hand and put my left arm and hand over my stack of chips.

It took security a few minutes to arrive and when they finally showed up, they were in full force. The wife tried to run away and was caught a few steps outside the poker room. It took nearly twenty minutes to sort everything out. It seemed like there were three people sitting at that other table who were hurt and shaken up. $1 chips cluttered the floor. The entire poker room was buzzing and everyone stood up to see what happened. My brother had jumped up and thought I was in a fight. Otis' brother called Otis and said, "Get back to the poker room, there's a fight at Pauly's table!"

It took twenty minutes for everything to be sorted out. The floor person came over to the table to discuss the situation with the dealer. The hand was still alive and I was not going to leave without taking down my pot. A police man escorted the guy in seat 4 to the table. His face was all puffy. The husband was giving him the business when they were rolling around the table. We completed the hand. I should have raised him! But I simply called. He had a baby flush and I had the nuts and took down the monster pot. I tipped the dealer $10 from the pot. She was psyched since she didn't get any tips during the down time. Grubby was sitting at the table right in front of mine. They were brawling just behind him. Derek and Otis ran over to get the story. Unreal, eh? The entire remainder of the night, everyone was talking about it. I must have told the blogger and Otis' crew the story at all their different tables. It was weird to have an entire table and dealer stop their game to hear my side of the story. I guess I became a part of the story. I was the guy who had the nuts when the fight started!

I wish I could get the video tape to post on my blog. Ah, just another night in Vegas!

I'll leave you this morning with my Hammer story. Monday night I'm sitting at the Excalibur 2/6 impending lawsuit fight table (and Pauly, she wasn't a hooker or am I just refusing to believe a hooker would reject me?) with Pauly and his brother. Pauly was to my right, and we were chatting often enough that I felt other people were suspicious of collusion. I made sure not to talk if we were both in the hand.

I get 72o in the BB, which excites me as much as pocket Aces. Everyone in the world limps for $2 including Pauly, and I raise to $8. All fold except the person in the cutoff. Sigh. This is my first hand raising at the table, and here I have a caller.

The flop is A3x (rainbow). My Hammer is looking good. CO bets out.

Little did he know the monster I held.

I raise.

I bring up the cards to Pauly and ask, "Wanna see?"

He shakes his head, "No."

CO calls. The turn is 5.

CO bets.

I ask Pauly, "Wanna see?"

He says, "I know what you have."

I now have a gutshot straight and no odds to call. Such is the glory of The Hammer and will make my eventual win all the sweeter.

I consider raising but decide to slowplay this one and pop him on the river.

River is nothing and he bets. I let him off easy this time and fold, though I did consider raising so I could show the hand.

Pauly said he also had The Hammer. Had he raised, I would've reraised, and we would've driven everyone out and then split the pot with The Hammer.

But he said his was suited, so not technically a real Hammer.

I forgave him.

The Jefferson Parish Sheriff's Office was looking Friday for a man who held up a Metairie doughnut shop wearing a pillowcase with eyeholes cut out and armed with a laser pointer... The robber walked into Tastee Donuts... behind the counter was a 61-year-old Metairie woman. The robber waved a red laser pointer at her and demanded money from the safe, threatening to kill her if she didn't comply.

A hint of pink, a touch of orange and incredible centerpieces. Goin' to the chapel has never sounded so delicious! John Townsend and Michele Sarao and Jeff Dewald and Margaret Neary's wedding plans just got a lot sweeter. America has voted, John and Michele and Jeff and Margaret will be walking down the Dunkin' Donuts aisle to say their vows.

John and Michele of West Milford, NJ and Jeff and Margaret of Philadelphia, PA were among six finalist couples in the New York- and Philadelphia-areas who were chosen out of scores of wedding hopefuls in the Dunkin' Donuts Hole-y Matrimony Contest. Their outrageous proposal stories won each couple an all expense-paid wedding at a Dunkin' Donuts shop and a honeymoon trip to The Islands Of The Bahamas.

Dunkin' Donuts was inspired to throw the unique weddings in response to the "Hole-y Matrimony" survey,* about American's behaviors and attitudes relating to weddings. Only 32 percent of respondents characterized most of the weddings they have attended as fun. It's no wonder that 73 percent of the people surveyed would say I DO to doing something a little bit over-the-top if they were the ones getting married.

In "The Two Cultures," C. P. Snow famously warned of the dangers when communication breaks down between the sciences and the humanities. The reaction to remarks by Lawrence Summers, the president of Harvard, about the differences between men and women was yet another sign of a breakdown that takes Snow's worries to a new level: the wholesale denial that certain bodies of scientific knowledge exist.

Mr. Summers's comments, at a supposedly off-the-record gathering, were mild. He offered, as an interesting though unproved possibility, that innate sex differences might explain why so few women are on science and engineering faculties, and he told a story about how nature seemed to trump nurture in his own daughter.

To judge from the subsequent furor, one might conclude that Mr. Summers was advancing a radical idea backed only by personal anecdotes and a fringe of cranks. In truth, it's the other way around. If you were to query all the scholars who deal professionally with data about the cognitive repertoires of men and women, all but a fringe would accept that the sexes are different, and that genes are clearly implicated.

There's only one thing you can say about the elections in Iraq: They are either going to be the end of the beginning there or the beginning of the end.

Although they made the playoffs last spring with Wilkens at the helm, the Knicks have not had a winning season since 2000-1. Despite a radical roster makeover by Thomas and the stately touch of Wilkens, the Knicks were again spiraling downward as Wilkens hit his first anniversary last week.

They have lost 9 of their last 10 games to fall to 17-22. The final blow came Friday night at Madison Square Garden, when Van Gundy's Houston Rockets shocked the Knicks at the buzzer for a 92-91 victory.

Last spring, Bangla Bhai, whose followers probably number around 10,000, decided to try an Islamist revolution in several provinces of Bangladesh that border on India. His name means ''Bangladeshi brother.'' (At one point he said his real name was Azizur Rahman and more recently claimed it was Siddiqul Islam.) He has said that he acquired this nom de guerre while waging jihad in Afghanistan and that he was now going to bring about the Talibanization of his part of Bangladesh. Men were to grow beards, women to wear burkas. This was all rather new to the area, which was religiously diverse. But Jagrata Muslim Janata Bangladesh, as Bangla Bhai's group is called (the name means Awakened Muslim Masses of Bangladesh), was determined and violent and seemed to have enough lightly armed adherents to make its rule stick.

Trey Anastasio will be sitting in with moe. at a charity concert to benefit tsunami relief on, Thursday, February 10 at 8 p.m. at New York's Roseland Ballroom. Other artists joining moe. will include MMW keyboardist, John Medeski, mandolin virtuoso, Sam Bush, and Trey dectet/Vorcza keyboardist, Ray Paczkowski.

Over 300 birds, high on marijuana, fight as thousands of spectators goad them with drum beats and cymbals at the annual harvest festival in Hajo village.

Bird fights, using the red-vented Bulbuls, a 20-cm-long bird of the Pycnonotus Cafer family, are an integral part of the Bihu celebrations at Hajo, with residents training the birds for a fortnight prior to the event.

In the two-day festival that concludes Saturday, at least 300 intoxicated birds are coaxed to fight each other by their temporary owners for a trophy and a cash reward of Rs.1,000.

Night Speaks to a Woman, Drifting, It Makes No Difference, Mr. Completely, First Tube

Not to disparage and generalize the fine folks of Las Vegas, but I'm glad I didn't grow up here or I'd probaby also be butchering the English language. And as attractive as you might be, the cuteness of bad grammar wears thin fast. My own grammar ain't the best, but I know the difference between came and come. 'Course, with the Adult Video News expo going on this coming weekend, perhaps she had other things on her mind

Hill was arrested after a clerk called police to report suspicious activity, a man and woman entering the store's one-person unisex restroom. When police arrived minutes later, according to the ruling, the couple twice failed to respond to knocks, and someone inside locked the door after an officer unlocked it. The two finally emerged — Hill with his pants undone — after the officer unlocked the door a second time. He was arrested after he re-entered the restroom, and marijuana and cocaine were found near the toilet.

Every time the jackpot is hit, 70% of the jackpot amount will be distributed and 20% will be used as seed amount for the next jackpot. 10% will be retained by Party Poker as administrative fee. Of the distributed amount, 50% will go to the loser of the hand (the Bad Beat), 25% to the winner and 25% will be split between the other seated players who actively participated in the hand (any player sitting out will not receive a portion of the jackpot).

Here's the payout structure for a 250 person tourney:
1st: $5,000
2nd: 3,000
3rd: 2,200
4th: 1,400
5th: 1,000
6th: 800
7th: 700
8th: 800
9th: 500
10th: 400
11-15: 280
16-20: 240
21-25: 200
26-30: 160

McGrupp,

I found your blog through a Feedster search for... well... myself, and was pleasantly surprised to find that you've been reading my work. Hope you enjoyed it! Nerserian's a pretty good writer too, although "the fuck-up" probably could've had 50 pages cut out of it.

-Marty

Eleven national and international fraternities, including Phi Delta Theta, now require most of their chapter houses to be alcohol-free, no matter what their university's policy is. (Sororities have long banned drinking in their chapter houses.) Take away the booze, the new alcohol-free theory goes, and fraternities will be safer, on more solid economic footing (fewer lawsuits, cheaper liability insurance) and more conducive to the creation of real bonds of brotherhood. Friendships will be forged out of genuine respect, not the shared misery of hazing or the shared fog of drink. ''We just didn't see a way to dramatically change the fraternity culture without removing alcohol,'' said Bob Biggs, executive vice president of Phi Delta Theta, when we met last fall in his office at the fraternity's spotless, museumlike international headquarters in Oxford, Ohio.

But what, exactly, would a dry fraternity look like? And would anyone want to join?

Boy Genius' table
Seat 1: Former porn star #1
Seat 2: Local with five teeth
Seat 3: Young girl
Seat 4: Pauly
Seat 5: Former porn star #2
Seat 6: Director/husband of one of the porn stars
Seat 7: BG
Seat 8: Shane the Cowboy
Seat 9: Cody the Cowboy
Seat 10: Young guy

Pauly is a wonderful, verbose writer and the key organizer of the first major poker blogger gathering, the WPBT Holiday Classic. Updated almost daily, his blog is always on top of the community.

Pauly often offers insightful strategy and reflection quoting from the masters on trouble hands and examining various aspects of play.

The Players... Tourney #1:
Seat 1: Brian
Seat 2: Andy
Seat 3: Toni
Seat 4: Pauly
Seat 5: Aaron
Seat 6: Sung
Seat 7: Thekla
Seat 8: Kathy
Seat 9: Cliff

This time the Indian and US military are in the frame, while the governments of countries from Australia to Thailand stand accused of deliberately failing to act on warnings of the impending earthquake or the tsunamis it unleashed around Asia.

Among the more common suggestions is that eco-weapons which can trigger earthquakes and volcanoes remotely through the use of electromagnetic waves were being tested. More outlandish theories include one that aliens caused the earthquake to try and correct the "wobbly rotation of the Earth".

The Players:
Seat 1: Asphnxma from Riding the F Train (arrived late)
Seat 2: Cliff
Seat 3: Joel
Seat 4: Signor Ferrari
Seat 5: Steve
Seat 6: Andy
Seat 7: Toni
Seat 8: Pauly

Final Standings

First Place ($125): Manny and Ortiz (Brad) 148 wins
Second Place ($65): Well T'anks For Nuttin' (Jerry) 147
Third Place ($40): Coach's Picks (Coach) 141
Fourth Place ($20): Austin Drunks (M. Stephans) 140

5 Twinkle & Turquoise (Jenna & Haley) 139
6 MoshPit badblood44 (Bad Blood) 138
7 Chico's Bail Bonds (Derek) 137
8 Uwannabet? (UWannaBet) 133
9 Punch You in the Eye (Pauly#2) 131
10 The Brooklyn Embeds (Gil) 130
11 Ugarte's Last Stand (Charles Star, Comedian, Esq.) 128
12 Bobby BigBalls (Johnny Flopbot) 128
13 BiG PERM BiG WORM (Armen) 126
14 Smokin Ricky (Senor) 126
15 Snot Bubbles (Sean from Anistropy) 125
16 All In (Landow) 124
17 Oyster Bay Moore (J. Moore) 124
18 AlCantPickEm (AlCantHang) 124
19 All My Sweet Bitches (Ty) 124
20 Drunk Norsemen (Halverson) 123
21 Running Back Ribs (Schanzer) 121
22 It Ain't Too Late (Spider) 120
23 Lovelace Leapsloth (S. Lovelace) 118
24 Shakedown Street (Pauly) 118
25 WhereMy NillasAt? (BG) 117

Untitled (1995)

Drool absorbed by a transparent pillow
Mind wanders losing its edge
Tunnels of unconsciousness confuse the traffic cop
Red ice cubes float in an empty glass
The bill totals $83.71 with payments long overdue
When does the spirit absorb the weak?
Red ice cubes fill the void
Beads of sweat drip upwards against the flow
The powder sits still on her curves
Chills, euphoria, red ice cubes as the traffic trap shouts, "Halt!"

Greg Raymer, the 2004 World Series of Poker champion, apparently knows how to wield more than a stack of chips when everything is riding on it. The soft-spoken patent attorney from Stonington, Conn., fought off a pair of attackers Dec. 20 at the Bellagio hotel-casino after he had finished playing a cash game of poker, according to a Las Vegas police report.

Raymer was returning to his room about 2 a.m. when two men approached, the report said. As he opened the door to the room, they tried to push him in. But the heavyset Raymer resisted and began struggling with the men, the report said. As he was fighting, one of the men pulled out a gun and said: "We just want the money."

Raymer, known as the "Fossilman" in poker circles, won the WSOP Texas Hold'Em title and $5 million in cash. He beat out a field of 2,576 in May to win the prestigious event.

On a poker message board, Raymer recently wrote: "I don't write this to brag, I just want any robbery-minded people out there who hear about this to know that I'm a tough mark, and they won't get that much off me even if they succeed."

Al-Rashed's job is to find a place for Al Arabiya within this array, preferably at the top of the ratings. For now, though, it is Al Jazeera, which was started in 1996 by the emir of the gulf state of Qatar, that sets the standard, and the tone, for Arab television news. According to a poll conducted last May by Zogby International and the University of Maryland, Al Jazeera is the first choice for 62 percent of satellite-news viewers in Jordan, 66 percent in Egypt and 44 percent in Saudi Arabia. In most countries in the poll, Al Arabiya came in a distant second, although the professor who designed the poll, Shibley Telhami, said it had captured a ''remarkable'' market share for a satellite channel that, at the time, had been on the air for only a year; 39 percent of satellite-news viewers said they watched Al Arabiya almost daily. And in Saudi Arabia, the biggest advertising market in the region, the ratings race is much closer.