Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Arguing numbers with conservatives

Almost nothing is more frustrating than listening to the Bush Administration's continuous barrage of baldfaced lies. But few realize just how insidious the Bushies are. I mean, there are the obvious lies and fabrications that we can all point to, but there are more hidden (and costly) bullshit stories that the public hasn't begun to think about.

Last fall, Jonathan Chait of The New Republic went after an old conservative standby: "Tax cuts increase revenues." A nerdy topic to be sure, but since all of us (at least those of us who came after the Baby Boom generation) are going to have to pay for the titanic mountains of debt the Boomers have racked up to pay for their Bush tax cuts, it's, well, kind of important.

Here's the article, and the comment board where I (chrisprend) got into a debate about numbers with a couple conservatives.

http://www.tnr.com/doc_posts.mhtml?i=w061023&s=chait102306

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Poker Guideline 1.0: "PLAY TIGHT..."

Playing "tight but aggressive" is a general strategy, which obviously makes it contingent on the circumstances of each particular hand you're in. But I believe tight-but-aggressive is the strongest default approach to each hand, and the best way to achieve the ultimate goal in poker: Maximizing your winnings when you have the best hand, and minimizing your losses when you don't. Today, I'd like to describe the "tight" half of that maxim, which is best summed up as:

"FOLD EARLY, FOLD OFTEN."

Like the song says, "You got to... know when to fold 'em." Playing tight means entering few hands. If you're staying in too many hands -- playing loose -- then you're foolishly bleeding money. If you're going to err on one side or the other, it's better to err on the side of tightness than looseness. Unfortunately for them, most people err on the latter side, and die a death by a thousand cuts -- or bets.

You must let this sink in: Folding is not a sign of weakness. It is, instead, a sign of wisdom. Folding is the most crucial decision you can make in the game of poker. And the earlier you fold, the better. Statistically, the more hands you stay out of, the lower your chances of losing money on a bad decision later in the hand.

Let's run through the crucial decision points in Texas Hold'em as an example. (For now, we'll only talk about whether you should stay in the hand. We'll get to calling and raising later.)

POCKET CARDS: Possibilities, Position, & Patience
1. Possibilities: The first crucial decision is what to do with your two hole cards. Generally, you should only stay in the hand if you're looking at: (1) a pair (the higher the better), (2) suited connectors (again, higher is better), or (3) a face-card/lower-card combination
(preferably suited and within striking distance of a straight). If you have one of these combinations, then consider staying in the hand. If you don't, then fold immediately.

Yet, having one of those three possibilities is not reason enough to stay in the hand. If someone else in the hand is betting big on their own hole cards, odds are that they have a high hand as well. If you see some big bets, then
you'd better have something really good to stay in. Unfortunately, most people refuse to fold in the face of big bets, simply because they've become wedded to what appears to be a good starting hand.

2. Position:
Location, location, location. Position matters a great deal in the first round of betting. If you're one of the last to bet in a hand, then you've already had a chance to watch to see how everyone else has bet, and you're in a position to fold if you've seen some big bets from others.

However, if you're among the first to act, then you're at a huge disadvantage. The first player to act hasn't seen anyone's bet yet. Imagine that you're first to act, and you call on a moderate hand, Jack-9 suited. You're opening yourself up to a situation where one of many players betting after you decides to raise big-time. Unless he's bluffing (unlikely, since he's seen you call and assumes you have at least something good), I'd put the him on a high pair, say, Queens. At that point, you could stay in and hope for a lucky Flop, but you'd be smart to fold.

Of course, you may be "smart" to fold at that point, but you're no genius -- because you should've folded in first position to begin with, and avoid losing the money you called with.

The point is, you should bet differently depending on your position at the table in each hand. For the hands where you're among the first to bet, you should play even more tightly.
If you're among the last to bet (particularly if you're the Dealer, Small Blind, or Big Blind), then you have the advantage, and you can play (slightly) more loosely -- and aggressively (which we'll get to tomorrow).

3. Patience: It's crucial to be patient. Too many players get impatient after they find themselves getting shitty hole cards a dozen times in a row, and so they decide to bet on their thirteenth shitty hand, and then wind up losing. You must be patient, and wait for the good cards to come to you. Everyone's luck evens out in the long-run.

THE FLOP: Draws & Sunk Costs
The Flop is where folding becomes really important, because five of the seven cards you'll have to make a hand have now been dealt. In other words, more than 70 percent of the cards are on the table, either in your pocket or on the board.
At this point, if you don't "have it" -- either a good hand or a really solid draw -- then get out. Now. Otherwise, statistics are working against you.

1. If You're on a Draw:
If you're on a draw, and already have four of the five cards you need to make a good hand -- say, a straight or flush -- there certainly is a strong temptation to stay in for the Turn. However, you should still strongly consider folding right now, on the Flop, particularly if: (1) someone is betting big at this point, (2) you can see some potentially good hands on the board, and/or (3) there are still a lot of players in the hand.

If someone is betting big, then they probably found what they were looking for on the Flop -- especially if you can see some powerful possibilities on the board (say, three suited cards).
You'd better be damn sure that you run through all the possibilities in those Flop cards that might help your opponents. And if there are a lot of players calling or raising, that simply increases the chances that one or more of them "connected" with something powerful on the Flop. Bad news for you, unless you've connected too.

And, before you decide to chase a draw,
keep this in mind: Statistically, the odds are low that what you're trying to draw toward will pan out.

2. If You flopped a Real Hand: Obviously there is an even stronger temptation to stay in the hand if connected, but the same considerations detailed above apply. If someone else is betting big, and there are cards on the table that could make up a hand that can beat what you're sitting on, then strongly consider folding.

3. Sunk Costs: The Flop is where many people make the classic, irrational, money-losing decision: "Well, I've already put so much money in the pot, I might as well stay in now." They believe they're pot-committed, so they call a bet that they shouldn't, simply because the believe they've already "invested" so much in the hand.

Bullshit. Stop and think. If you bought a lot of Enron stock, and then lost your shirt when the scandal broke, do you honestly believe that buying more Enron stock will help you get your money back?

The answer is Yes only if you believe that Enron's stock will rise again in the future. The same reasoning applies to poker. What you've already put into the pot is irrelevant to whether you should continue to put money into the pot. The money you've already bet is GONE -- sunk. You can't win it back unless you win the hand.

And that's the question: Are your odds of winning the hand greater than the amount that you're being asked to call relative to the pot? If Yes, then stay in. If No, then get out. Adding more losses to the pot won't help you get your money back, and hoping that the Turn or River will turn out the one card you might need to win is a fool's hope -- one that only materializes, on average, 7 percent of the time.

THE TURN & RIVER:
Late Folds & Bad Beats
1. Late Folds: The simple fact is, if you're folding on the Turn or River card, then in most circumstances, you're folding much too late. You're playing too loose.
In general, you should only be folding on the Turn or River if you coasted through the Flop cheaply, and then didn't reach what you were drawing for on the Turn/River, and then someone starts betting big. Get out, and don't lose any more money.

2. Bad Beats: Of course, there are situations where you Flopped a great hand (say, a straight), rightly stayed in for the Turn, and then all the sudden a the Turn cards reveals a more powerful hand possible for your opponent (say, a flush). And then, your opponent starts betting big, indicating that he does, in fact, have the flush. Tomorrow, I'll talk about how to reduce the chances of that happening, but for right now, it's probably a good idea to go ahead and fold -- assuming that you really believe that your opponent actually has the flush. Just remember to ignore sunk costs, chalk it up to a bad beat, and move on.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

"You got to know when to hold 'em..."

There are a thousand books out there on "how to win at poker." All (well, most) of them are very useful in different ways. But as with all things, you aren't going to get good at poker by reading about it. You have to actually do it. And then do it again, and again, and again.

That said, in my experience there are three simple rules for long-term poker success. Well, maybe they're more what you'd call guidelines than actual rules. After all, there are no absolutes.

Anyway, I'd like to lay out these three useful "guidelines" over the next three days. Not that I'm some kind of poker expert, but I've been generally successful at this game, and I though I'd share my insights in a forum that is shorter and more accessible than a poker book.

I should mention that this poker advice is not meant for serious, experienced players. But it is also not meant for people who have no idea how to play poker. I'm not writing a "poker rules guide." My posts, instead, are intended for those who have a basic understanding of the game, but haven't found a consistent measure of success at winning.

Monday, August 20, 2007

We Are (Almost) All Dilettantes

Research indicates that a person requires at least 10,000 hours of practice before developing a true expertise in a given activity. This pattern appears to be applicable to just about any activity, including sports, games, music... hell, maybe even our jobs.

Ten thousand hours is the equivalent of one hour per day for more than 27 years. Or, it's 3 hours per day for 9 years. And even if you dedicate an entire 40-hour workweek to an activity, it would still take you nearly 5 years to become a master.

That's why it's bullshit that Luke Skywalker basically became a Jedi in what appeared to be the space of one week.

Anyway, I suspect there may be some variance due to innate ability -- a person who has a natural talent for something may accomplish in, say, 8,000 hours what the average person might take 10,000 hours to accomplish -- but overall the implications are staggering. Essentially, this means that most of us do not excel in what we do. I've tried to look in the mirror at this, using my own "interests" that I listed in my blog profile. The results confirm it. I'm a dabbler:

Films: If you believe watching a larger number of films helps you develop some sort of "expertise" in film-watching and critical assessment of films, then I have a long way to go. On Netflix, I've rated more than 2,000 films. Assuming 2 hours per movie, I've watched 4,000 hours of films (not counting repeat viewings) -- and that's just watching films; I've spent comparatively little time actually analyzing them. Nowhere near being a real film critic.

Poker: This is tougher to estimate, so I whipped out the calculator. Adding up my current poker night (4 hrs x 26 games x 6 yrs = 624 hours), my high school lunchroom game (.6 hrs x 5 days per week x 35 wks x 2 yrs = 210), random games throughout college, law school, business school, work, and Vegas trips (3 hrs x 10 games/year x 14 yrs = 420), and finally, online play (3 hrs x 52 wks x 4 yrs = 624), my total is about 1,878 hours. Huh. Not sure how I keep winning. ;)

Baseball: I'm not sure I want to touch this. Watching baseball? Yeah, I might be an expert. Playing? I think the results would be too embarrassing to contemplate.

Wine: Sadly, I haven't spent 10,000 hours tasting wine, no matter how liberally you count the three years I spent in law school.

Politics: Since that's my job, I suppose you could count my number of work hours. Counting all the extra campaign hours, I've racked up about 9,000. Only problem is that "politics" is too broad and includes too many separate activities to assume that I'm anywhere near becoming an expert in any one of those activities.

Unless you're accounting for the fact that, more than anything else, the nature of the job lends itself to developing an expertise in dealing with idiocy. If that's the case, I have a fucking Ph.D.

Thursday, August 16, 2007

Let Wild Hogs Lie

Huh. I was randomly perusing Netflix last night, and I noticed something that's pretty telling: The abominable, career-handicapping Wild Hogs has an average member rating of 4.0 stars (out of 5). In contrast, an intelligent comedy like Sideways has a rating of only 3.4 stars.

And the Member Reviews are even worse, with Sideways apparently on the receiving end of a non-consensual rear-entry offensive, while reviewers saw fit to shower Wild Hogs with sunshine and puppies.

OK, so, let's say Sideways isn't your cup of tea? Reasonable people can certainly disagree.

Alright then, let me hit you with some knowledge: In the estimation of the average film rater, Wild Hogs is also superior to real comedies like Annie Hall (3.6), Groundhog Day (3.8), The Producers (3.5), A Fish Called Wanda (3.8), and Ghostbusters (3.8).

Now does that make a damn bit of sense?

Actually, maybe it does. All in all, I'd say this state of affairs is probably a pretty good proxy for the capabilities of the average filmgoer in a country that elected George W. Bush.

Twice.

Of course, I realize that I'm making a ridiculous argument, and I'm sure some of my own Netflix ratings might register a "Huh?" But we're not talking about only one person's ratings here. We're looking at the average of thousands of ratings. Hopefully as more people see Wild Hogs (my condolences in advance), the 4-star rating will drop. Until then, you have to admit this is worth at least a mild "wtf?"

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Vandelay Industries

I think it would be hilarious to really flesh out George Costanza's résumé -- especially the tortured explanations of how he got fired from each job, particularly Pendant -- and then actually submit it to a bunch of employers and see what the responses are.

Imagine what his cover letter would say. I'd write it, but I think I've already spent a little too much time working on this.


George L. Costanza

c/o Frank Costanza

7 Vandelay Blvd

Queens, NY 10152

Career Goal: To found my own architectural firm.


EXPERIENCE

Krueger Industrial Smoothing: Vice President, 1997-1998

Serenity Now Computers: Salesman, 1997

Play Now: Disability Bathroom Supervisor, 1997

New York Yankees: Assistant to the Traveling Secretary, 1994-1997

De Granmont Brassieres, Inc.: Sales Representative, 20 mins., 1993

New York Modeling Agency: Hand Model, one week, 1993

NBC: Writer, 1992-1993

Pendant Publishing: Reader, 1991

Sid’s Parking Service: Car Parking Facilitator, one week, 1991

Rick Barr Properties: Real Estate Agent, 1989-1991


EDUCATION

Queens College: B.S. in Accounting, 1986

Summer Job, 1984: Dairy Queen – Soft Serve Machine Operator.

Summer Job, 1985: Fat Camp – Waiter.

Culinary Couture

One of my friends started a food blog. Well, not just food. More like food+self deprecating humor. Check it out: http://culinarycouture.wordpress.com. She's hilarious.

The Iliad for Dummies

Troy
*****

Wow. What can I say? One might say that this film serves as The Complete Idiot’s Guide to the Iliad, but that would be an insult to idiots everywhere. I say that both as an accused idiot, and as a huge fan of quasi-historical epics. I loved Gladiator, Spartacus, Ben-Hur, and Braveheart. But Troy was an abomination. Bad directing, mediocre acting, and a horrible screenplay. Someone should have petitioned Wolfgang Petersen to go out on a high note and stop making movies after the nearly-perfect Das Boot.

The writing. My God, man, the writing. Try to imagine if a line like this one were found in Braveheart: (Helen, to Paris) “Last night was a mistake.” Dialogue like that makes me give serious thought as to whether the writing staff of Sex and the City teleported back to the 10th Century B.C. And, since the movie did well in the theaters, it appeared to have worked. Unfortunately, it also seemed to have signaled the death-knell of the historical epic, as viewers of the vomit-inducing Alexander can also attest.

Avoid seeing this film at all costs.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Forrest Dump

Forrest Gump
*****

There is a great scene in The X-Files when Cancer Man, dejected after receiving some bad news, decrees that “Life is like a box of chocolates. It’s a cheap, thoughtless, perfunctory gift that nobody ever asks for. Unreturnable because all you ever get back is another box of chocolates, so you’re stuck with this unidentifiable whipped mint crap that you mindlessly wolf down when there’s nothing left to eat. Sure, once in a while there’s a peanut butter cup or an English toffee, but they’re gone too fast and the taste is fleeting. So you end up with up with nothing but broken bits with hardened jelly and teeth-shattering nuts. If you’re desperate enough to eat that, all you have left is an empty box filled with useless brown paper wrappers.”

Although that probably doesn’t reflect a healthy outlook on life, it does accurately describe the films released in 1994. There were a few “peanut butter cups”--gems like The Shawshank Redemption, Pulp Fiction, and Clerks--but most of the movies that year were best described as “unidentifiable crap that you mindlessly wolf down when there’s nothing left to watch.”

As it is, that phrase perfectly describes Forrest Gump. Forrest Gump is the film equivalent of a lobotomy.

Never has such a mindless film won the Oscar for Best Picture. The silly smiley face that the title character “invented” is a perfect metaphor for the film. As movies go, it was mildly entertaining, and Tom Hanks’ acting was good as always, but what was the point? That if we just stopped thinking about things, the world would become a better place?

But more than the movie’s hackneyed appeal to simplicity, I think Forrest Gump was so popular because of lingering Baby Boomer nostalgia for “the good ole days”--which, in case you weren’t paying attention, weren’t so good. The major social issues of the time, particularly Vietnam, Civil Rights, and the sexual revolution are painted with such meaningless and euphemistic strokes that you get the feeling the '60s were just bland feel-good years of no real significance.

The liberation of women is dealt a particularly nasty blow. The one character who pushed back against the film's onslaught of right wing values was Jenny, played by Robin Wright Penn. But what happens to her? Oh, well, we have to give her HIV. The liberated woman must be punished.

That Forrest Gump beat Shawshank and Pulp Fiction--two of the best movies of the decade, let alone of 1994--for Best Picture is a Hollywood travesty. It's shamefully ironic that a film with such a great soundtrack would so closely approximate an on-screen rendering of Muzak.

Monday, August 13, 2007

Chicago: All Sizzle. No Steak.

Chicago
*****
Chicago is an insult both to its audience and to the original play. The problem is not that the movie emphasizes style over substance. The best style-over-substance films transcend their genre. The Kill Bill films, for example, served as an homage to samurai flicks (and to the westerns that borrowed from them), and, through expert directing, acting, and dialogue, transcended them.

But Chicago was an homage to nothing. Or rather, an homage to itself. The film was a commercial for its own Oscar marketing campaign.

Chicago was made for one purpose only: to win Best Picture (read: make a ton of money) for its studio. Chicago swooped-in at the end of the year and immediately began billing itself in advertisements and trailers as an Oscar contender. The movie seemed to be released in December for the sole purpose of creating enough momentum to win best picture; if it had been released at the beginning of the year, rather than the end, it probably wouldn’t have won. The film itself looks dazzling on the big screen, and was sure to dazzle audiences. And that all that dazzle did a wonderful thing for the producers--and a terrible thing to audiences: It covered-up the stench of reality. Fundamentally, this is a terrible movie.

Am I supposed to be amazed by the fact that Catherine Zeta Jones & Co. can sing? Sing, they can, but does that make the film deserving of a Best Picture nod? That’s a different question. Overall, the film’s acting, directing, and screenwriting were mediocre at best. Rob Marshall’s rules seemed to be: (1) film on one soundstage with three sets; (2) paint all scenes completely black in order to hide any depth; and (3) use three white lights and three red lights. Such techniques were branded by many as “dazzling” and “innovative.”

They were neither. He might as well have just filmed the theatrical play being performed, and packaged that as the film. The producers clearly worked up an intentional “buzz” campaign, in the hopes that all the dazzle and buzz would carry it through to the Oscars. It seems to have worked. But Chicago has no purpose. It accomplished nothing, in terms of entertainment value or art.

I did not see the film on the big screen; I saw it for the first time on DVD. And I believe that allowed me to see the film for what it truly was: A failure, cloaked in protection of a brilliant marketing campaign. Chicago should never have been made.

There's nothing more fun than...

slamming an awful movie. Or better yet, slamming a crappy movie that everybody seems to love. To wit, my next post.