Thoughts on the World Series of Poker 2005

Tuesday nights are my church night, when I kneel at the altar of the World Series of Poker. Two solid hours of the WSOP Main Event are on ESPN now. And after last night they are down to the final 27 players. Greg Raymer, last year's champion, is still in it (not to spoil it, but the tournament was a few months ago and Raymer doesn't repeat). It's fun. Equally fun is this McSweeney's list:

Poker Terminology I Feel I Could Get Away With Saying If I Ever Played a Tournament.

BY ANDY SUTHERLAND
- - - -
He's holding Babraham Lincolns.

Caught in a flytrap.

Lay it down on "The Tarpits."

Short-weeding the double-down avocado splitter.

Deuce trips.

So I pull trash from the flop, and end up sinking the Titanic.

Laboratory rats to the left, and I know the guy on the right has a suicide johnny—nothing else to do but drop the transmission.

He was short-stacked, so I raised with nothing but a bumpy melinda and a bullet.

Crunking the small blind.

So a Madeleine Albright pops up on Fourth Street.

After his raise, I know he's sporting two mustaches, and I can see one otter swimming the river on the flop.

I've got leaky quads, and I call, after he bulldozes the pit with half his gold towers.

I fold.