Small Comfort

As I just wrote to an editor: “I’m feeling a little better but I’m not out of the woods yet. I knew there was a reason I’ve always hated camping.”

Want to know what else I hate today? “Texas Hold ‘Em.” Not the game. I don’t give a shit about the game. I’m just appalled by the phrase itself. All I can think of when I hear it is George Bush groping his own crotch. The very sound of the words induces existential nausea. Maybe next we can have a game called “Texas Knead ‘Em.” Or just “Lubbock ‘Em, Bitch!”

Isn’t the mind an amusing little toy?

3 Responses to “Small Comfort”

  1. Bart Lidofsky Says:

    20-30 years ago, the I used to play a lot of poker with my friends (nickel-dime-quarter, three raise limit; $40 was a big win or loss for the evening, and $10 either way was more typical). We played “dealer’s choice”, and I used to choose Hold’em a lot. TV has succeeded, in a year or so, in something that a decade of playing couldn’t: made me thoroughly bored with the game.

    Now, for you, I would suggest “Red Dog”. Makes for a lousy game but a great short story (it was used a few times on TV in the 1960’s, but I don’t recall it being used since an episode of ALIAS SMITH & JONES).

  2. Rachel I. Says:


    I really could’ve lived a long, healthy life without that mental image.

  3. Jason Says:

    That phrase sounds like an okie euphomism for rape. Or even a codeword for the KKK. “Now boy, we gonna have to teach you a little game we honest white folk call Texas Hold ‘Em…”