Worcester Dispatches: Back on the Train

By Pauly
New York City

I almost didn't make the show. Benjo had both of my Worcester tickets, but he lives in France. He planned on flying into NYC on Monday morning and we were going to drive up to Worcester for both shows, then drive back to the city for the MSG run. Alas, the blizzard screwed up air travel across the northeast and European grid. Benjo's flight got pushed back to Jan 1st. He negotiated a hellacious flight into Boston (Brussels > London > Chicago > Boston) that would get him into the States almost two hours after the second Worcester show ended.

I wasn't going to make the trek by myself until my buddy Senor called and persuaded me to take the train to Providence (where he lives), and then he'd drive to Worcester (located less than 45 minutes away). Senor driving plus the train meant that I could get schwasted and not have to worry about being a responsible driver. How could I say no?

I pulled the trigger on the show at the last second. I was in NYC and hopped on a subway to Penn Station, then evaded a K-9 unit and thousands of disgruntled train passengers before I boarded an express train to Providence and ate some pharmies. Senor picked me up at the train station and drove right to Worcester. We got into town around 7:40 and parking was a bitch. We got the next-to-last spot in some shady lot behind a hospital.

Senor had two extras which he dumped for 20% below face. Most tickets were going for less, but Senor scored four killer seats. He didn't tell me how good the seats were until we got into the show. We were two rows off the floor on Fishman's side and about ten feet in front of the stage. Right away, I spotted the Rhombus and two signs requesting "Dog Log" and "Weigh."

We had to kick a couple of wooks out of our seats and got settled in a few minutes before lights went down. Kill Devil Falls might have replaced AC/DC Bag as an opener in 2011. By the time the chorus came around, our section was sprayed with a beer shower. Senor hopped it was beer. I told him not to worry at an indoor Phish show about an aerial urine bomb. At a Panic show, it would probably be piss.

I had a seat on the aisle and the aisle was packed. One girl couldn't stop gushing about the sound. "Soooo much better than seeing Phish outdoors," she continuously said.

The country Phish tune of the night was My Mind Got A Mind of Its Own, and I got faked out at the beginning, which sounded a lot like Uncle Pen. But I'm not a redneck, so all country songs sound similar to me.

Trey looked like a little kid playing around with his mini-voice recorder that had a bunch of pre-recorded barbs from Sarah Palin. He unveiled his toy during the opening section of Alaska. It was hard to hear everything through the audience speakers, but I'm sure it sounded much crisper in the live release.

After Alaska, Trey and Gordo had what Senor described as an "animated chat" that last for a good ninety seconds. She Caught the Katy ensued, and that tune was the first curveball of the night. Gordo sang the vocals for Katy, which offered up a bit of country and a bit of funk. Country-funk. I always think about the Blues Brothers (more so than Taj Mahal) when I hear that song. Page nailed a wicked solo.

The boys threw the crowd a bone with a heavy hitter in Wolfman's. Page seized control early on with a funkified clavinet orgy that inspired a glowstick fracas in the crowd. The deeper the funk -- the more the crowd went nuts and tossed around the glowsticks with an increased fervor. Wolfman's was one of the highest energy peaks of the show.

Trey spoke to the crowd about surprising Tom Marshall with a song that they co-wrote together called Pigtail. Tom had no idea Phish was going to play it. I have to listen to it a few more times to formulate an opinion, but my snarky gut says that it's much better than the uber-ghey Summer of 89.

Trey's voice sounded pretty scratchy. Someone (via Twitter) said that Trey had a cold, which was why he sounded bleh. At least it was not the result of freebasing. The last time Trey's voice sounded off like that was when he was crocked to the tits during the disastrous Vegas 2004 run.

First part of Stash was uneventful and I spent the time zoning out on the lights. That's one of the things about Stash -- if I get bored with the jam, I can easily amuse myself with the lights because CK5 gets a little crazy during Stash. The end of the Stash picked up a ton of steam and they finally got the jam cooking. Trey had his mouth wide open. I swear that I saw drool.

"Is this a new song?" joked Senor when Bouncin' got played. Nope, I said. It's a Pauly Takes A Piss Song.

Rift was a shot in the arm late into the set. Well placed and well done. Glad we got that gem. I thought a mediocre version of Stealing Time was going to end the set, but the boys huddled in front of Page's setup. They debated an acapella song and settled on Birdwatcher. Much better choice than Grind. Everyone on the floor in front of Phish busted out their cameras and cellphones to capture the moment as a puddle of glowing lights illuminated the area in front of the stage.

Set 2 opened with a thrashing and head-banging Carini. A wookette snuck into the aisle to dance. She was next to me and I was getting whipped by her natty dreads as she violently shook her head back and forth. I was bumming out a bit about the dread lashing until she finally moved up a spot and danced in the front row (blocked off from the floor).

Backwards was standard. Nothing to report otherwise until Back on the Train. The Worcester version had a bit of snow-funk thrown into the mix, which might have been one of my peak moments in the second set.

Senor was jumping up and down at the end of Limb by Limb. Because we were so close, I took advantage of being able to watch Fishman utilize every inch of his kit, as he demonstrated his version of multiple African drummers.

"I want to do this when I grow up," one guy next to me said to his girlfriend as he pointed at the stage.

I got whipped again with the wookette's dreads during the Wedge. It felt weird to hear the Wedge played somewhere other than Colorado. We got a spacey and rare Frankie Sez, and the low-energy tune morphed into an even slower, plodding cover of Neil Young's Albuquerque.

I figured that I'd get a Hood when we stopped just outside of Worcester and I saw a Hood milk carton. Sure, there's Hood milk all over New England, but that's just how my mind works before a Phish show. I seek out any Phish-related sign and make a connection (whether it fits or not).

The middle section of Hood got a bit lost. Here's my theory: Trey was tripping out on the wookette in front of me. She was getting down and dancing and Big Red was fixated on her. Check out the video and you'll see Trey staring off to his left. What you won't see is the hottie grooving out. After getting a better look, she was more attractive than I expected. Trey wouldn't stop staring. I was getting uncomfortable because the jam kinda stalled. At one point an anxious Page looked up and tried to figure out why Trey was lost. Yep, the magnetic pull of a Phishy chick mesmerized Trey until he finally pulled out of it.

I caught an intense version of Bug to close one of the sets in Alpine Valley this summer, and the boys attempted to replicate that feat in Worcester. I love to point at the band during the "overrated" parts. The Hood-Bug combo was an interesting and intense way to end the show.

The solo encore was Shine a Light and Trey didn't sound too good. Sure the song is soulful and a raspy, bluesy voice would be a nice compliment to the song, but Trey's scratchy voice didn't mesh.

Overall, I went into the show with very low expectations. Heck, I wasn't even supposed to go and only went at the last second because I rarely get to hang out with my buddy Senor. I have no clue what our schedules will be like next year, so I welcomed the opportunity to throw down in Worcester. We had fun. I got schwilly. What more could I ask for?

I really can't think of a better way to spend a Tuesday night aside from seeing a Phish show. Thanks to Senor for the hook up (ticket and the ride).

One down. Three more to go. Get ready for some MSG insanity to end 2010 and to start 2011.

2010 - The Year in Photos

By Pauly
New York City

2010 was quite a year. I spent a lot less time on the international poker trail and replaced those wanderings with Phish tour. Along the way, I snapped photos and 2010 included a significant number of CrackBerry cam photos. The technology is improving and some of my favorite moments were captured with my handy mobile device.

You can check out different galleries that I created covering the porn convention, Uruguay, Mastodon, NYC, and Vegas...not to mention random stops on Phish tour like Telluride, Atlantic City, Atlanta, and Charleston.

Here are some of my favorite pictures from 2010, including 11 that stand out...


"Nalin Palin" actress was a big draw at the AVN AEE (aka the porn convention)
Las Vegas, NV (Jan. 2010)


Statues of Jesus above the hotel bar
Punta del Este, Uruguay (Feb. 2010)


Timmy at a frolf course during Mastodon 2.0
G-Vegas, SC (March 2010)


Random hotel elevator with Nicky
New York, NY (April 2010)


The Joker in the Phish lot on the Fourth of July
Alpharetta, GA (July 2010)


The Spectacle of Phil Hellmuth
Las Vegas, NV (July 2010)


The Colorado crew before Phish's show in Town Park
Telluride, CO (Aug. 2010)


Eurotrash Night
Broomfield, CO (Oct. 2010)


Morning View
Folley Beach, SC (Oct. 2010)


Saturday night throwdown in Chucktown
Charleston, SC (Oct. 2010)


Phishy Halloween
Atlantic City, NJ (Oct. 2010)

My favorite was the bright yellow one taken during a throwdown in Charleston.

For more pics, check out my galleries on Flickr.

LAX > JFK and Christmas Whipping Post

By Pauly
New York City

December of this year in Los Angeles reminded me of living in Seattle with its continuous grey sky and intermittent showers that were interrupted every few hours by a sudden downpour. The winter is when I actually enjoy living in Southern California the most because of the lack of bitter cold that turns your testicles and brain into a painful gruel. I don't complain about the weather during trips to NYC, mainly because I have no reason to complain because I'm fortunate enough to soak up the SoCal rays of sun for the majority of the year.

If anything, the hardest adjustment is that my body is ill-equipped to handle the frigid New York winters, which is why I usually get sick when I head home for the holidays. My lack of winter preparedness makes me paranoid, and I have to overcompensate for the lack of familiarity with excess clothing as I wander around underneath multiple layers, usually at least two more layers than I actually need. As a result, I'm too warm and break out in a sweating fit as waterfalls of sweat cascade off my forehead and nose like Patrick Ewing shooting a free throw. In short, living in SoCal has made me soft when it comes to the Northeast winters.

I packed light for this two week trip. That's how I usually travel, but the weather was of utmost concern, so I packed the warmest jacket that I had in LA with me, but that meant I had to carry even less with me than I desired in order to make said jacket fit into my small bag. Luckily, I have a wardrobe in New York including a two week supply of underwear and socks, not to mention mostly winter clothes and "non hip" items that failed to make the cut when I migrated out West. I'm fortunate that I have enough clothes on both coasts that I could technically walk onto a plane without any luggage. I only needed my laptop, but then again, I had a laptop (three actually) in New York, so there's was really no need for that particular laptop, aside from it being a safety measure and something to keep me sane at LAX if we experienced a lengthy delay.

Before I headed to the airport, I enjoyed the aroma of pines needles inside the apartment. We had gotten a tree the day after I returned from Vegas, even though I'd only get to enjoy it for a week. That was good enough considering the amazingly low price. I didn't even have to negotiate at the lot -- something that I was bummed out I didn't get to do because sometimes I like to haggle, an activity that placates the used car salesman and former broker inside me. The tree people quote me a price so low that it was almost too hard to believe, yet, and a number too low that I felt like I was really ripping them off if I went any lower.

Nicky dropped me off LAX with a small bookbag. The bulkiest item I carried with me was a heavy fleece jacket. I packed two t-shirts, a long sleeve-short and a pair of underwear. That was it for clothes. I also packed a carton of smokes and a Monet desk calendar -- both items that would be making a one-way journey because they were Christmas presents for my Mom. Aside from my laptop and plugs/chords, I also carried a single book. I wasn't going to take a book at all to save space, but Nicky gave me a book for Christmas before I left. Hardcover books are a chore when you're trying to travel light, but I made an exception for Michael Lewis' The Big Short, which was an epic tale about few people who were bold enough to bet against the entire sub-prime mortgage market. I had read a few excerpts of Lewis' story either while killing time in airports or reading articles/columns he wrote about the sub-prime bubble, but wanted to sit down and read the entire book. I had no idea but the book was so good that I'd read every single page on the flight from Los Angeles to New York City.

I flew the redeye and wasn't tired at all so I read the entire way. Good books make time fly because you can't put the book down and lose all concept of time. Flight went smooth. Even though we were delayed by 40 minutes, the pilot made it all up in the sky and landed close to the scheduled time just before 7am.

It took over 2.5 hours to make my way from JFK to the Bronx. I was too cheap to pay for a taxi to sit in morning rush hour traffic, so I opted for the Air Train to the subway. I just missed the first Air Train, which set off a chain reaction that made miss two connections down the line because I'd miss the A train by a few seconds and got stuck waiting for a bus in Inwood. The journey through four boroughs took about half the time it took to fly across the country, but it only cost me $7.25 and I saved over $60 plus tolls by sticking to public transportation.

By the time I got home, it was 9:30am and I had been up for over a day. Within moments of walking in the door, my mother picked a fight. She goaded me into it and I never saw her spring a trap. Guess I was too tired to be paying attention to the question she asked me because it was a loaded question that gave her a springboard to go off on a rant about one of my least favorite topics. When I realized that I got ambushed, I bailed from the conversation, simply too tired to argue. I skipped Thanksgiving, so my mother had a month of backed-up venom that she felt the desire to unleash upon me as soon as I walked in the door. Home for the holidays and I paid for this abuse. I'm glad I saved $60 on the fucking cab.

I was up for over 40 hours when I finally pulled the plug and went to sleep. I spent most of my time on my first day back sorting through two huge piles of mail. I tossed about three small bags worth of junk mail and a three foot high stack of poker magazines, mail order catalogs, alumni magazines, and other junk rags.

Between the time I landed in NYC and Christmas, I watched a lot of sports with my brother including tons of basketball. I had a few bucks on random games like Boise State in their bowl game, a couple of college hoops games, and the Knicks. I even bet the Knicks on Christmas, something that I thought would be bad mojo, but the spread was too juicy to ignore.

I helped my mother clean her apartment for Christmas and she wondered what "Lauren" was doing for the holidays. Of course, she calls Nicky the wrong name, even after I corrected her a dozen times.

Christmas was tepid. I got zero material items which made me content because my family has a habit of buying me clothes that I never wear. I bitched and moaned about it and they finally wised up. On the flip side, I had to pick up a bunch of stuff for them, which I did through Amazon.com (where I made for 90% of my gifts purchases). I definitely didn't spend as much money as I did last year, but I also didn't have as good of a year as a freelance writer as I did in previous years. I took off most of the year to finish Lost Vegas and didn't have a heavy freelance schedule. Plus, unless you're the chick who writes Harry Potter books, most authors barely break even after they get a book published. I wondered if my family thought I was being cheap, but hey, at least I gave them something material even though it goes against most of my principles because Christmas consumerism has gotten outta control.

The worst part of Christmas dinner was getting needled by my uncle. He's a lifelong Mets fan and detests the Yankees, which by proxy, means that he loathes me. He didn't even take his jacket off and he was already ripping into the demise of Derek Jeter. It's not that I can't take a ribbing about sports, but he didn't even bother saying hello before he went right for the jugular. My mom had to say something to him because he was too focused on giving me shit than opening up his gifts. I said something like, "Hey it's Christmas. Be polite and open up my mom's gift first, then you can give me shit all you want."

After a while my brother got sick of the unnecessary and unprovoked bullshit and told my uncle to stop the badgering.

"I don't talk shit to you. I never walk into your house and tell you how bad the Mets are. But you can't let it rest for one minute. When will you just get over it already. We know you don't like Derek Jeter. But you know what? None of that is going to change the fact that he has won championships and he will still go into the Hall of Fame, no matter how much you hate him or not. None of that is going to change."

I was surprised, because my brother actually shut him up the rest of the night. Ironically, my brother said that Turkey Day dinner (which I skipped) ran very smoothly and my uncle didn't talk smack about Jeter or the Yankees... even once. I told Derek that was the case because I wasn't there. Since I showed up at Christmas, my uncle felt as though he had a right to just act like a dick.

Here's the thing that he's yet to learn -- giving me shit about a "sports team" doesn't tilt me. I love the Yankees, but trashing them or any other team that I root for, or trying to berate a player that I respect is not going to affect me negatively. I usually laugh because the hater thinks more about what he hates with a stronger passion than something I love. Yep, that stems for a serious insecurity issue. I'm not one of those fans that gets easily insulted about their team getting picked on. Sometimes fans can be uber-sensitive, so much so that it's like you're pissing on their pancakes.

I have a well-rounded life and confident in my likes/dislikes, so a bush-league attempt at trying to tilt me makes me feel sorry for the so-called hater. But on Christmas, something in me clicked. I was irked at my uncle's disrespectful behavior because he was purposely trying to be malicious from the moment he walked in the door. e saw the holidays as an opportunity to give me guff. That's why I flew out from LA... to be a whipping boy. I made a decision to be non-confrontational with my family this holiday season so I kept my mouth shut (in that instance and at least a dozen other incidents). But by me staying quiet, my uncle saw that meek behavior as a sign of weakness and amped up his vitriol. That's when my brother stepped in and called out my uncle for being a dick.

After dinner ended, I took a nap (at least went into another room to lie down and watch Collapse and other Peak Oil videos on You Tube) until my uncle and aunt finally left. When I talked to Nicky later that night about her fantastic Christmas dinner in LA, I questioned whether or not I really wanted to return to NYC next year. Why do I constantly pay for this abuse year-after-year? I gotta be honest, Phish playing New Year's Eve in New York City was what sealed the NYC/Christmas deal for this trip, much like Turkey Day 2009 when Phish played NYC right after Thanksgiving, which is the only reason I fly to NYC on the day before Turkey Day.

So, if Phish doesn't play the northeast next Christmas time, I might consider skipping my first Christmas in the city. What good is paying jacked-up ticket prices, fighting TSA cock checks, elbowing retarded amateur travelers, only to return home if all that's gonna happen is that my mother and uncle have free opportunities to shit on me?

Lost Vegas for Kindle, Nooks, and iPads

By Pauly
Los Angeles, CA

Merry Christmas to everyone. Were you a good boy/girl and did Santa hook you up with a new Kindle, Nook, or iPad? If so, you're in luck because the e-book version of Lost Vegas is only a few clicks away!


Click here to buy Lost Vegas for Kindle and iPads.

Click here to buy Lost Vegas for the Nook.

For print copies, you can always head directly to Amazon.com page for Lost Vegas, or if you want to save a few bucks, right now through December 31st, you can get 10% off of print copy of Lost Vegas via Lulu using coupon code: PEARTREE.

Thanks for your support.

Merry Christmas!

By Pauly
New York City




36 years ago today

The Annual Re-Telling of "Auggie Wren's Christmas Story"

By Pauly
New York City

One of my favorite NYC authors, Paul Auster, published something many moons ago titled "Auggie Wren's Christmas Story." I re-read it every Christmas. So should you.

Click here to read Auggie Wren's Christmas Story.

Return of the Bears and JP Morgue's Silver Manipulation

By Pauly
New York City

The Bears are back with some shocking and revealing info about more hijinks with silver manipulation...



Head over to Tao of Fear for more videos like this one.

Cats and Dogs... Wet Cats and Dogs

By Pauly
Los Angeles, CA

I'm not used to lots of rain in Southern California at this time of year. Sure, in January and February, it's the winter season which means temps might dip below 60 degrees with more rain than usual. But all of that rain arrived in December, a little earlier than expected. Every since I returned from Las Vegas, it's been raining non-stop with perpetual grey skies. Man, fo a moment I got flashbacks from living in Seattle, but the thing about Seattle is that it might sprinkle on and off during the day with a fine mist that never seems to go away. It doesn't rain hard, like those heavy downpours with sheets and sheets of rain falling faster than you can imagine. That's the type of rain I was used to in New York, or as the elderly generation would put it, "It's raining cats and dogs."

So it was a bit disturbing when the skies opened up and never stopped. Cats and dogs are an understatement. Part of the reason I ultimately sucked it up and moved to LA was because of the weather at this time of year. I've been watching football games and that's my only outlet to the frigid weather in the Midwest and Northeast. Sure, I have to head back home for ten days around Christmas, but I'm trying not to think about those freezing temperatures and wintry mixes that make walking around outside utterly miserable.

I don't mind the grey skies because it makes me hunker down and write better.Sometimes, when it's too sunny outside, that can be distracting and I get the urge to step outside and soak up the sun. That's when I pop my head out and get greeted by pollution and/or chemtrails that have been zigzagging over the skies of SoCal. I always wondered what those planes were spraying. I've been told by my friends who are hardcore conspiracy nuts that the chemtrails either fall under one of two categories: weather manipulation and/or poisoning the masses. Sweet Jesus, that can't be true. Or can it?

Who knows for sure. But I never noticed chemtrails over Los Angeles until a few months after Obama got elected and all of those Obama/Joker posters began popping up all over LA. Someone was hired to tear them down, but more would pop up over night. And then -- that's when the white lines appeared in the azure-tinted skies. Zig zag patterns. Xs above the slums of Beverly Hills. If I woke up early enough, I could see them hard at work. By the time most of the locals woke up and began their commutes, the trails dissipated into what looked like an ordinary layer of Los Angeles smog.

I didn't think anything of it until I noticed that the Las Vegas valley was being sprayed as well. I have no idea what is going on. One of my friends who is an engineer suggested that we create a weather balloon to fly up into the atmosphere to test what odd chemicals are up there. Sounds good in theory, but something like that can get Men in Black showing up at your door and carting you off to a re-education camp with a slew of American Talibans.

See, the grey skies and rain makes me think about strange things. I'm sorta bummed out at the rainy weather because it would have been nice to enjoy the warmth of SoCal before my trip back home for Christmas. Even though I have been looking at the weather report for NYC, the 20 lows/32 highs is not terribly bad, but for someone who had their blood thinned the last few years, even moderate winter temperatures are going to take a while to get used to.

In the past week, I have been frantically finishing up freelance work for the rest of the year, in addition to trying to pound out a couple of advanced assignments so I have a smaller workload on my plate when I fly back to LA in early January. I was in a rut last week -- an unmotivated rut -- and I cite full blame on the pharmies.

Painkillers kill my motivation and I only have a small window where I can function in a creative manner before the warm fuzzies win the battle and I get sucked into the couch. I don't necessarily numb the senses with the boob tube, but I sorta lose motivation to cross off the items on my "To Do List" and decide that procrastination is the better route to happiness. The opposite occurs when I'm jacked up on Adderall because all I want to do is work. Even when I finish every task on my To Do List, all I want to do is start writing new lists! Talk about complete polar opposites, because in one corner the painkillers suck me into the couch and in the other corner, I can't sit still with Addys pumping through my system.

Meanwhile, during my faded phases, I have been reading the last pile of books for 2010 (and eager to start a new pile in January). I have also been catching up on a backlog of financial articles on the web and offering up tutorials to Nicky about complex financial matters. I discovered that she understands the financial meltdown if I use poker/gambling terms or find appropriate Hollywood analogies. She's a fast learner. Just the other day she deadpanned, Wow, so Wall Street is just like gambling?" Well, no duh. And more hauntingly, she said, "And this financial game is fucking rigged?" Finally, she's finally catching on.

Over the weekend, when I was not sweating random sportsbets, I finally watched a dozen or so documentary films (both on the financial system and aliens) that various friends recommended. I'd say that 50% of it was a crock of shit, while 25% is debatable, but it's that last 25% that freaks me the fuck out!

I need it to start being sunny again, so I can focus on non-distracting work.

A Trip Report and the Monday Morning Blue Pill

By Pauly
Los Angeles, CA

Rather than repeat myself, it's easier if I just pointed you to different corners of the web.

I posted the first Monday morning link dump on Tao of Fear, which we branded as the Monday Morning Blue Pill. I talk about shotguns and Wikileaks warning Bank of America about an upcoming round of retaliation.

Over at Tao of Poker, I posted the first part of a Vegas trip report titled WPBT Moving on Up, Part 1: The Dream, Moving the Line, and Stay Away from My Sister.

Enjoy.

Huddle Up

By Pauly
Los Angeles, CA

Man, where did the last two weeks go?

Fog. That's how I describe it. I blame the recent rainy weather in LA, the clutches of a pharmie bender, and the looming doom of the 2011 financial crisis.

My apologies to the six of you who have been awaiting to read regularly scheduled posts on Tao of Pauly. My life is anything but regular, so I often go through periods of time when I get stuck in one gear and I'm unable to downshift out of my current situation. Alas, that rut has finally subsided. The last two weeks have been a little strange, frightening and empowering. I went on an epic bender, gambled a shitload (both on sports and commodities), scoffed at a bit of political theatre that enraptured my peers, spearheaded a new group project, and fought off the Vegas flu. That's been the behind the scenes battle from yours truly the last two weeks.

On a positive note, I will be moving most of my fear mongering and financial doom rants to a new corner of the web titled Tao of Fear. You knew that was coming based on the content I had been posting this month. Luckily, I will have some friends helping me out with that project as we try to educate our colleagues about the slow burn that will eventually cook all of our gooses.

I returned from Vegas earlier in the week and felt bleh for a few days. Part of it was shaking off the dreaded Vegas flu that I always catch during short sojourns to Sin City. I also got a bit depressed after this most recent trip. Without going into too many details, my malaise was rooted in one of those waves of nostalgia-ridden guilt that I know that the annual December trip lost some of its luster and will never be like it used to be in the mid 00s. At the same time, I have a bleak outlook on the world's financial situation, and I cannot help but think that Vegas is going to take another massive blow in the upcoming year once the dominoes begin to fall because of the current European sovereign debt crisis and the looming state/municipal debt crisis ready to strike in 2011. Maybe I was saddened at the prospect that we might not do one in 2011, and if we do, it will be even more stripped down than previous years.

I couldn't ignore the tumultuous financial forecast which is why I felt rather guilty indulging myself while in Vegas. I kept fighting back and forth between the wise cynic and the party guy who says, "Fuck it. Party it up. Live it up while you can because you'll regret that you didn't have more fun."

The roughest part of the Vegas trip was not having Nicky along. Yep, I had to drive from LA to Vegas by myself. It's not the first time I've done it, but obviously, I had to remain sober for most of the weekend if I wanted to be in decent head space to safely drive back. Maybe that's part of the reason I didn't have as good as time as I usually do -- because I had large bouts of sobriety while in Vegas.

Nicky threw out her back and was under doctor's orders not to travel. Not only is Nicky one of my best friends, she's also great at group gatherings and cocktail parties, not to mention handling the complexities of me. I spaced out on a couple of things in Vegas -- and I know that wouldn't have happened if Nicky was with me. One of those fuck ups included losing my wireless aircard. I'm kicking myself in the nuts for not insuring the piece of equipment for $3 a month. I'm also wicked pissed that I booked a hotel room and I used it for less than an hour considering that I didn't get into Vegas until after 3am (due to a bad wreck in Victorville) and had to leave by 9am for a meeting. I raged solo gambling by myself for four of those hours and tried to sleep for an hour, which never happened. But in that short time I was in the room, I still managed to lose my aircard. Of course, the room where I left it in was serviced by a maid (or someone in hotel's housekeeping staff) who snatched it up and never reported it as missing.

The trip was also rough because a number of my close friends were not in attendance. That's always tough because the main reason I head out to Vegas in December is to see those folks along with my brother. I'm fortunate that I get to travel a lot for work and Phish, so I can squeeze in time with friends when I'm in their neck of the woods. But the Vegas trip is a weekend when we can all hang out together. This year's crew was a bit smaller and Derek and I adapted by spending a lot more time chilling with each other -- alas, we definitely missed Nicky, GMoney, and the rest of our friends.

Once I returned from Vegas, I fell off the wagon. Actually, I jumped off the wagon and was happy to do so, but I got caught up in numbing my senses and lost the desire to publishing anything on the interwebs. I wrote a bunch, but the subject material was not for public consumption. If anything, I spent more time catching up on sleep and rest the last five days logging almost twice as much sleep that I get on an average week. Pharmies are bad in the long run, but in the short term, I get much more sleep, something that I wish I could get more of.

Time and sleep. I don't have enough of either and can't spend money to secure enough of both.

Coming to a City Near You! The Greek Riots

By Pauly
Los Angeles, CA

This is what should be happening all over America, but it's football season and we're too concerned about what was written on our Facebook wall.

Alas, then again, maybe everyone else who isn't a sports fan or doesn't have a Facebook account will throw fire bombs at the police?

This is Greece. This is now. Will it be America tomorrow?


H/T to Zero Hedge.

Tao of Greed: Ben Bernanke Is God, Buy the Fucking Dip Sheeple!

By Pauly
Los Angeles, CA

The Bears are back and this time they summed up the atrocious interview with the head of the Fed, Ben Bernanke, when he appeared on 60 Minutes a few weeks ago.


Yes, buy the fucking dip.

Tao of Greed: Bears Talk Silver and You're More Than Just a Consumer

More bear talk! Listen to the bears. They are the wise ones. Buy silver.


For more videos about the bears, here's one discussing JP Morgan's manipulation of silver.

Tao of Greed: World (Financial) Collapse Explained in 3 Minutes

This made me chuckle... because Europe is in the shitter. But then it also made me want to horde more silver.

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Mini-Cooper

By Pauly
Los Angeles, CA

I'm pressed for time, but I'm doing that "ten minute" blogging routine that I often tell my friends they need to do when they get into a blogging rut. So, now... I'm on the clock.

I live in a semi-religious neighborhood. It's a mixture of hipsters, Orthodox Jews, and a few Kabbalahists dressed in while. So it's not unusual for me to see cars driving around with oversized menorah's on the roofs. I grew up in a Jewish neighborhood in the Bronx and got used to see that around Christmas time. Since it's so sunny outside, I think that the locals go out of their way to display their holiday cheer because it's easy to forget you're in the middle of a holiday season when it doesn't feel like Christmas (or Hanukkah).

The one thing that freaks me out are the hipsters who dress up their cars in Christmas decorations -- specifically Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. One of those tards lives on my block. They also drive a Mini Cooper that is decked out with antlers on the roof and a big red nose on the front grill of the car. I saw at least two other cars dressed very similar while running errands the last two days. I guess that's better than gaudy Christmas light displays. I haven't seen any on my block, but the folks across the way have an elaborate display of blue-themed Hanukkah lights.

I really wouldn't know it's Christmas in Los Angeles, because I avoid most retail outlets and the malls, so I don't get bombarded with all of that consumer-driven holiday cheer disguised as cheesy decorations. I get random reminders when I'm at the coffeeshop and a Christmas song comes on the radio. This morning, it was Bing Crosby singing Silent Night as I devoured a plate of chocolate chip pancakes. I wore my sunglasses while all of this went down. I know, sounds like a douchey thing to do, but when I sit at the table in front of the big window, there's too much light for me to deal with especially early in the mornings when my vampire self is struggling to adjust to the radiant California sun.

Yes, I can't get into the holiday spirit in SoCal. This is a blessing in disguise because the holiday that was supposed to celebrate the birth of Jesus has been hijacked by corporations -- all of whom properly brainwashed our citizens into acting like barbarians especially on the even of Black Friday when people line up in the middle of the night to buy stuff, and then they bum rush the doors and trample anyone in their way. A religious holidays has been turned into a consumer frenzy. Much how St. Patrick's Day used to be a holy day in the Catholic Church, it had been hijacked by beer and booze companies to promote binge drinking.

Oh, well. The Catholic church used to be one of the most powerful entities on the planet. Their power has since waned and priests have become fodder for late night talk show comics, who toss out the occasional altar boy/pedophile joke. I know one or two, but I'll save that for another post.

For now, the sun is breaking through the curtains in my office and I'm shocked that it's December. My allotted time has now run, so now it's time for me to be on my way and finish up a shit ton of errands and writing before I head to Vegas this week to spend time with my brother and some other close friends.

Lost Vegas - Christmas Shipping

By Pauly
Los Angeles, CA


FYI... right now through December 15th, you can get 15% off of a print copy of Lost Vegas via Lulu using coupon code: STOCKING305. Books are print-on-demand, so I suggest you order in the next few days to guarantee a Christmas delivery of Lost Vegas.

Click here to buy a copy at Lulu. Use coupon code STOCKING305 at checkout to get 15% off all orders.

If you're going the Amazon route, you can procrastinate a little longer. Here's the Amazon.com page for Lost Vegas.

Oh, and some stunning news... the e-book has been on Amazon for almost two weeks and Lost Vegas cracked the Top 10 in a few categories.


Thanks for your support.

Truckin - December 2010, Vol. 9, Issue 12

By Pauly
Los Angeles, CA

Rare! I published Truckin' early this month. I'm hoping that I can deliver 2011 issues on the first of the month. That's my goal!

Anyway, many thanks to everyone's support in 2010. It's no bullshit when I say that I think this has been the strongest year to date in the supreme quality of stories from the eclectic group of scribes on our roster. Please help support us by spreading the word about your favorite stories.

December 2010, Vol. 9, Issue 12

The year-end issue includes a couple of Christmas-themes stories. Happy holidaze!

1. Christmas Bird by Paul McGuire
Shap drank whiskey and soda but with no ice. He'd nurse two or three drinks in five hours and sat the end of the bar for hours on end attempting to finish the NY Times crossword. When he was done with the puzzle, he'd engage in spats with Sully, the resident encyclopedia of sports statistics and knowledge of everything sports... More

2. That Musical Christmas Meeting in Jail by Johnny Hughes
When Sheriff Dink staggered across the room with Lonnie's guitar, both men pulled guitar picks from their pockets. Ryan reached out and grabbed the guitar. He picked a few notes, tuned it, and then quickly demonstrated that his finger picking style was more advanced than Lonnie's cording and strumming. Then he launched into House of the Rising Sun, and he and Lonnie stood facing the others, singing together, obviously delighted... More

3. Santa's Vice by Mark Verve
They were replacing some of the couches that line the walls. The old ones were in the alley when I arrived. The crushed red velor was torn, soiled, and stained with spilled drinks and god knows what other types of fluids. No one would ever consider sitting on them if they knew... More

4. NY, NY by Ernest
Most of the peep shows and porno theaters were already deserted, so the city had sponsored an art exhibit. The lobbies and display cases of the theaters were filled with crazy sculptures and graffiti pieces, and all the marquees had cool phrases or haikus on them... cool Basquiat type shit... More

5. Hell Pro Support by Sigge S. Amdal
Did you know that most of the tools and drivers our technicians use are available on our website? Just go to support dot euro dot hell dot com. Your call is important to us, thanks for holding. We'll soon find an available technician to answer your call. The conversation may be recorded for training purposes... More

Thanks again for your continued support.

Tao of Greed: Xtranormal Explanation of J.P. Morgan's Manipulation of the Silver Market

By Pauly
Los Angeles, CA

This Xtranormal video is gold... well, silver... well, you know what I'm saying. It almost makes me miss my old job.

This is witty and hysterical and you gotta see it. Even if you're not investor savvy, the video explains (in layman's terms) what JP Morgan has been doing in their attempt to manipulate the price of silver... not to mention Goldman Sachs involvement. If you don't get the inside jokes, at the least, you'll get a lesson in naked short-selling and manipulation of the futures market.


H/T to Tyler Durden at Zero Hedge's post: The Goldman Sack Blows The Whistle On The JP Morgue Silver Manipulation Scheme.

Tao of Greed: All You Need to Know About Investing: Buy Fucking the Dip

By Pauly
Los Angeles, CA

Thanks to the Human Head for pointing out this gem about "buying the dip."


I used to talk to some of my clients just like this... "Buy the fucking dip!"

I Don't Give a Fuck, That's the Problem

By Pauly
Los Angeles, CA


Who knew that MC Ren was such an astute observant of my vacillating view on politics. I don't get involved in debates and arguments, because those are futile. I'm more of a man of action. I can get behind a movement whenever they are really trying to bring about change -- and none of this fake change that so many friends swallowed in gallons when they drank the Obama Kool Aid (and saw a savior who was nothing more than a puppet for all his Wall Street buddies -- which is why I'm perplexed when the folks on the right stirring up paranoia that Obama is turning America into a socialist state when he handed out billions in welfare checks to banks, insurance companies, McDonalds, and dozens of international corporations... oh, and I almost forgot about using our tax dollars to bail out foreign banks without our consent), and I'm definitely not buying into those teabagging movements because most of them were cleverly rebranded stalwarts from the GOPs.

What concerns me is the whispers that the former members of the IRA (Irish Revolutionary Army) are ready to blow shit up -- especially banks based in London. Ireland is under an economic shit storm with rampant unemployment and property prices plunging when their real estate bubble burst. The Anglo Irish Bank had too much exposure gambling on loans to developers. It became nationalized (sound familiar?) with total bailouts funds around 30 billion Euros. Ireland is in deep trouble, and the EU and IMF bank offered them bail out packages. Once the IMF steps in, historically speaking, the country is doomed because of the ridiculous interest attached to the loans and other harsh realities of their iron-clad austerity packages. That's what Bono has been on his soap box rallying against the last few years -- to make the IMF absolve loans to third world countries (Africa and South America) who spend most of their GNP on juice from those loansharks. Now, Bono is going to have to beg the banking elite since Ireland is on the verge of becoming a third world country.

The citizens of Ireland are outraged and on the verge of civil unrest because their politicians sat around and did nothing but shovel money to the banks. Sound familiar? Bankers got funds. The people got zilch. Now, the government is about to sell them into slavery with the IMF. Instead of attacking British tanks like they did in the 1980s, the rogues that used to be in the IRA are dusting off their bomb making materials and hitting the banking industry. Man, if word gets out that the Irish are blowing up banks, what will the reaction be in America?

When I was a kid growing up in an Irish/Jewish neighborhood, that's all you would heard about -- the IRA. At some point in the 1970-80s, if you drank a pint in any Irish pub in New York City, chances are you were helping launder money for the IRA. There were rumors that the "second collection" in our Catholic parish often went to buy arms for the IRA -- to help eradicate the Protestants in power. Right after 9/11, there's was a huge backlash against taxi drivers and bodegas, because the fear mongerers warned that every newspaper you bought from a brown person or cab ride contributed to funding the American Jihad.

The truth lies in the middle. I'm sure there are a handful of bodegas in the New York Metropolitan area that send money to mosques somewhere that teach anti-American rhetoric. And yes, in the 1970s, it's was well documented than many bars sent their proceeds to Ireland to help their Northern Irish brothers and sisters break free from British rule.

But what about today? Every Irish Car Bomb you drink at the local bar helps fund another bank getting blown up in London.

When I was a kid, we didn't have as many outlets to obtain news like we do in the internet age. We were stuck on news cycles -- the early morning paper or later morning paper and the evening news. That's it. The only 24-hour news outlet was on the radio, and that was about the only medium that you could tune into that gave any sort of news around the clock. If you weren't religiously glued to that dial, you had to wait until nighttime to turn on the boob tube to watch the local news and then wait for the national news which slotted a few minutes for international stories. Sometimes they talked about Northern Ireland. I occasionally got a glimpse of the ravaged streets of Belfast, where citizens clashed with Brits often throwing rocks and homemade bombs at Her Majesty's soldiers. My non-Irish mother would often toss in a barb at my Irish-father, "Those micks are never going to win because they are so drunk they don't know they are using rocks to fight against armed soldiers." My father was never one to get into a heated political argument, so he would silently leave the apartment and head down to the Leprechaun, the corner pub. Who knows for sure how much his drinking habit had indirectly funded the IRA. He was not politically active and didn't care about "The Troubles" in Ireland. Both my father and grandfather were born in America and neither had ever visited the Emerald Isle.

If anything, my father (a former U.S. marine stationed in Germany) was more concerned with a potential two front war -- with the Russians and the Iranians. I grew up during the Iranian hostage crisis and images of bounded Americans with pillow cases over their heads appeared in the newspapers. In 1980, my father was worried that if the Russians didn't bomb us, then we'd get bogged down in a Vietnam-type of war of attraction in the Middle East.

"Those religious zealots in Iran," he said, "are the real threat to your future."

Those are some harsh words for an eight year old.

The Berlin Wall would topple within a decade of that conversation and the Russians were no longer a threat. But never underestimate the wisdom of an alkie. My old man's prediction partially came true -- thirty years later, our troops are bogged down in a hundred year holy war that might never end, and to complicate matters there are rumblings that the next front will open up in Iran.

Talk about a bad idea. Our country is broke and we simply don't have the resources or man power to invade a third country in a decade. And let's not forget the hobbit despot in North Korea. Depending on which slanted-coverage you read -- the latest clash between North Korean troops and South Korean military doing joint exercises with the US -- is the others' fault. It football terms, it's an offsides call. But we don't have an impartial referee to determine if we're offsides or they encroached us. One thing is for certain, that's one skirmish we can't afford to get involved in. We already fought one proxy war with China in the 1950s. Do we need another 60 years later in the middle of fighting a holy war?

As one political writer chastised one of his knowledgeable readers in a recent post, "What do you mean you're worried that WWIII is going to start? It's been going on for nine years."

There's plenty of facts. The hard part is connecting the dots. The media used to help citizens connect the dots, but these days, you can't really trust anyone in the mainstream media -- because they have strayed from journalistic integrity that made them the Watchers and true guardians against those misbehaving in power. So many media outlets have their own agendas that come first before servicing the people -- solely operating to generate income, or act as propaganda wings for parent corporations, and/or influence public opinion for well-connected politicians and intelligence agencies.

That's why it's really up to the individual to do their own due diligence. But there's too much stuff that's it's overwhelming, so the end, you have to do your own homework. There's a quote that stands out a lot when I think about the vagaries of the media business...

"There's my side. There's your side. Then there's the truth."

Don't be lazy and listen to one of the talking heads. Take the time and seek out the truth for yourself.

Random Brain Droppings: 1am and Waiting for the Xanax to Kick In

By Pauly
Los Angeles, CA

I ate a salad for dinner. It's sorta happened by accident. Nicky had a sore back and I gave her a painkiller, which meant that she was not able to drive. We ordered dinner from the local pizza joint around the corner, except that I didn't want pizza and ordered a chicken Cesar salad. No bullshit. I woofed down the salad in record time. I was hungry, more hungry than I thought because I got the salad because I didn't think I was hungry because I had been writing all afternoon and still had a ton of work on my plate before I called it a night. I wanted to skip dinner and work through it, but as is, I had a bet on the Clippers game and wanted to sweat some of it, so I ordered in with Nicky and inhaled the salad while the Clippers surprisingly held onto win their game. Not only did I bet them with the points, I also hammered them on the money line. Fine line between genius and utter stupidity. I'm always falling on the side of the fence with the stupid.

Speaking of fences... the mean dogs next door run up against the wooden fence separating our properties. The dumpster is right along the fence and whenever homeless people going dumpster diving, the dogs go insane and getting running starts and smash into the fence. One of these days, the fence is going to come down and one of the homeless dudes is going to get mauled by a pissed off dog.

The dogs don't bark as much anymore because of the dog zapper. It doesn't quite work as effective as it did, but overall, the dogs yelp and growl instead of the incessant barking that echoed down the alleys. It was the best $30 I spent in a while. I wish I could get those devices for humans and zap people who can't stop talking (this would be most effective in public places when self-absorbed idiots prattle on loudly on their cell phones without any respect for your well being).

I think our palm-tree lined street got blocked off at the end of the block for a Hanukkah parade. I live in a sprawling Jewish neighborhood (with pockets of Iranian Jews) and that would make sense if all that honking I heard earlier in the night was not a bunch of pissed off road ragers on tilt, but rather, all that commotion was the annual parade when the rabbis drive around with a Menorah on top of the roof of their car.

I've been pushing myself since Monday to get as much work done this week so I can take off the rest of the year. I knocked off three future columns and got them ready to go in the can. I'm hoping that I can do another three before Sunday -- that is as long as I limit my distractions. Hopefully I can begin work on a few fun creative projects next week -- which will happen as soon as I finish off the rest of my work and clear out the inbox. So close... I can see the light.

On a good note, I'm back into a steady groove writing wise, which is amazing for me because I can get into a rhythm where I'm cranking out two different writing sessions a day. The majority of the work has been no-poker writing although I've been in an hour or so a day on something for freelance clients. And these are solid prolonged sessions. I'd be lucky if could squeeze in a half a section during a day -- bit I'm committed to enjoy my trip to Vegas and back home for Christmas with as less work stress as possible.

My desire is to unplug completely for a month. I have a gut feeling that I would rite better without the distractions. Maybe I'll have the balls and pull it off in January?

$1.38

By Pauly
Los Angeles, CA

I read books in phases and clusters. Most recently, it's either been non-stop book reading or nothing at all. When I'm devouring books in LA, that often coincides with positive writing streaks. It's no secret that I find inspiration in books, and at the same time, I often write better when I'm reading well written material. I suppose my brain is a sponge that adheres to the "you are what you eat" school of thought, but in this case, "you write what you read."

Sometimes, the internet gets most of my reading time, which I often compare to fast food reading mainly because my diet is blogs and some media outlets (mostly meta-sites with lots of link dumps). Even the most long-form pieces of journalism on the net clock in at a few thousand words, which is hardly a hearty meal compared to what you can devour when you pick up a book.

When I'm on the road and traveling (especially spending lots of down time in airports), I might be able to knock off a couple of books a week, but because I'm mobile, I'm not writing as much. But the road is also where I pick up new books or discuss books with people I meet along the way. I always write down book recommendations. I don't always act upon those, but that list comes in handy when I'm in search of new material. About once a month, I create a pile and stack four or five books on top of each other on the desk in my office. Those will be the "books of the month" and my reading list. On average, I'll finish three out of the five. I'll lose interest in one very quickly, and the last one is often one of those books that I pick up, put down pick up again, and put down again -- but for some reason -- I don't go back to it because when the new month comes around, I have a new pile of books.

Once a year, I'll create a pile of start-stop books -- books that I started to read and stopped, but I really want to finish. Sometimes, it takes effort to plug through to the end of the book that has been slowing you down. Otherwise,, you have to be an expert skimmer.

Christmas is always a good time of year for me because I'm the recipient of a lot of books along with giftcards to Amazon and Barnes & Noble. My reading pile every January includes a dozen titles, and nothing is a better start to the new year, then delving into a stack of new books.

Nicky has been voraciously reading the last two months -- exclusively on her iPad. The Kindle app is good, but it bothers her eyes, and now she's looking into picking up a real Kindle. I'm not that jazzed about e-books. I've warmed up to them after I realized that e-copies of Lost Vegas were in high demand. I was sorta surprised when e-book sales eclipsed print copies shortly before Thanksgiving. But once Black Friday and Cyber Monday hit -- print sales took a healthy bounce upward and regained the top spot.

I'm a luddite when it comes to books. I want to read a physical copy. I want to turn the pages. I want to have a proper book mark. I want to be able to flip back and forth if I want.

I also get off on buying used books. I'm not a bargain hunter mainly because I don't buy too much stuff. Most of my disposable income goes toward traveling, music/entertainment, and funding my own art. However, I'm an avid book hunter. I'm partial to the smell of mildew from books stashed away in someone's basement. I think that stems from parts of my childhood when my mother was an avid flea market attendee at Yonker's Raceway, so while she browsed for different items, I found myself digging through splintery wooden crates filled with used books for as little as a penny (presumably those books were found in an attic somewhere or inherited from a dead relative).

When I lived in NYC, I used to stop at street vendors and inspect every book in their collection. I've bought a few gems on the street for $5 and $6 over the years. When I was completely broke, I used to spend a full day inside Strand bookstore off Union Square and find a secluded aisle and read books that I was too cheap to buy. When I really got into poker and wanted to improve my game, I devoured different poker and strategy books (with aided my poker education -- for free) at different Barnes & Noble throughout the city.

Late nights, I get a rush hunting for bargains online for less than $2 through Amazon's used book sellers. The big scam involves shipping. Well, not much a scam, but how those sellers really make money is over-charging anywhere from $3 to $4 for shipping and then go the cheap route at the post office and send it media mail. So a $2 book is really $5 plus -- but the only downside is that it might take up to two weeks for the book to arrive, but I don't care too much about that because I'm excited to get any book for under $5. I recently picked up Scandals of '51, a book about the 1951 college basketball point shaving scandals for $1.38. I read the first four chapters and already got my money's worth.

In May of 2010, I became a member of Amazon.com's Prime Shipping club, which offers up their members free two-day shipping for an annual flat fee of $79. My buddy Ryan said that it was the best deal on the interwebs if I devoured books and DVDs as much as he did. I decided to give it a whirl and I definitely made out in that deal by the beginning of the summer. I also found myself shopping for non-book items (like household items such as fly traps and plumbing tape) on Amazon because I got free shipping.

But, maybe I'm not the one who is taking advantage of Amazon? For one, they get discounted shipping from the big boys, so what they would normally charge me is an inflated price to begin with. At the same time, I noticed one slight problem -- the Prime shipping affected the amount of used books that I buy because Amazon offers up new copies of books at super-deep discounts.

For example, I wanted Brief Interviews with Hideous Men, a collection of essays from David Foster Wallace. Used copies were going for like $6. I don't get free shipping on third-party sellers, so that book would cost me around $9. For an extra $1.25, I can get a brand spanking new copy on Amazon (and get it delivered in two days).

Maybe that's the catch? I found myself opting for the upsale on more than one instance. I need to do a better job at tracking those transactions in 2011, because I'd really like to see how much extra money Amazon got out of me over the long run.

But for now, I'm more than satisfied with their Prime service, especially with Christmas three weeks or so away.