High On Poker

“Where do Dwarf Blogs go when they die?”

“What do you mean, honey?”, I asked Dominick, the little orphan that Big Brother Little Brother set me up with. We were on our usual jaunt to the local malt shoppe, so I was surprised by the unusually serious question.

I stopped in my tracks, and crouched down to look lil’ Dommie in the eyes. “Buck up, champ! What did you hear?”

“Tommy at the orphanage (that’s where lil Dommie lives) said that Iggy was packing up Guinness and Poker.” For any of you who are not here because of the incestuous readership base of poker blogs, Iggy, a dwarf with a rascally sense of humor and a penchant for frothy dark Irish beers (and probably frothy dark Irish women) has gone by the title Blogfather. His posts, of the uber (i.e., extremely long) variety, would waste countless hours across the nation as his readers poured through his various links, quotes, and newbie blogger pimpage.

“Dommie, everyone knows that Tommy is a shit-eating dildo of a liar. You know that, don’t you?” Dommie nodded as he sniffed his nose. “Remember when Tommy told you that online poker was illegal and we’d all lose our money? See, he lied there right.” Dommie nodded again and seemed to perk up. “How about the time when he told you that there was no god? I proved to you without a doubt that god existed, didn’t I?” (That story, in which I actually proved the very existence of our Lord, the Creator, will have to wait for another time). Dommie’s frown slowly lost shape. A smile formed on his little bastard-orphaned lips.

“There you go, Dommie! That’s the right attitude!” “But Jason?”, Dommie asked (he didn’t know my real name, cause I don’t trust ugly bastard orphans), “what happens to blogs when they die?”

I chuckled a bit, mostly because I was thinking of a joke in my head. I straightened up, ruffled Dommie’s trailer-park trash hair, and said, “Silly goose! Blogs don’t die, they multiply! Besides, you little ‘tard, once a blogger always a blogger. Even if that impish freak of a blogger did decide to shut down his blog, he’d live on in mind and spirit.”

“Gee, Jason, that makes sense. I guess Tommy is a goofy douschebag liar.”

“Now, Dommie, that’s no way to talk.” Hahahahaha! After our long chat, I desperately needed a smoke. “Sorry kid, but we are going to have to cut this short for today. Let’s get you back to the orphanage and into your cage.”

On the ride back, as Dommie ran next to my car (I wouldn’t let him in, as I suspected he had fleas), he asked, “But Jason, what happens when Iggy’s blog does end?” “Don’t worry about that kid. It won’t be erased. It’ll just be moved to a poker blogging farm upstate where it will have plenty of room to run free and play with other poker blogs.” “Really, Jason!? Is it true?!” “No you goofy bastard, now try to keep up, I wanna catch the early showing of Borat.”