Word: pokerful
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...tried three times in my life to learn poker. Harvard is not the kind of place where poker thrives—as much as we sometimes try to pretend...
...third time was this past summer, when I worked with teenagers at a day camp. Kyle, the only kid who seemed at all impressed that when I wasn’t being a camp counselor I was going to Harvard, kept challenging me to play poker. The games were low-key and I was able to fake my way through it—no betting, we would essentially just draw five cards each and compare our hands, and while I was able to save face in front of my sole admirer, I still didn’t really know...
Apparently, the thrice-weekly 4 a.m. trips Vito Giuliani Mussolini ’04 has been making to Foxwoods have finally paid dividends—Mussolini cleaned house at a poker tournament in Leverett over the weekend. But he found himself in the hole again later on that same evening after losing a beer chugging contest to Myst, a dancer at a Chinatown strip club, and then losing a double-or-nothing arm-wrestling contest with Trinity, Myst’s on-stage companion. The night took another turn for the worse when a drunken Mussolini inadvertently tipped the bathroom...
When I put my fire irons, poker, brush and screen into storage in late May, I had no idea that they would be totally useless this fall. In his final administrative days, former Dean of the College Harry R. Lewis ’68 robbed us of the privilege to build a cozy wood fire on a cold winter evening...
...audible, so immediate, so dark and deep. Rarely, before or since, has a voice also shown the grit to express, endure and outlive that misery. His songs played like confessions on a deathbed or death row, but he delivered them with the plangent stoicism of a world-class poker player dealt a bum hand...