title: Hunting Fish: A Cross-Country Search for America's Worst Poker Players
author:  Jay Greenspan 
description: Greenspan, the editor of <i>Winning Internet Poker for Dummies</i>, narrates a three-month odyssey in which he hopes to win enough money to take on the power players at California's Commerce Casino. This is partly a technical book, replete with Greenspan's exhaustive musings on how to play particular hands (which will be arcane and tedious to nonplayers) and partly a sophisticated insider's exploration of the dynamics of the poker world. Greenspan theorizes, for instance, that this world is a "giant inverted pyramid" where "the richest and most skilled reside at the bottom." It's to those pros, the Doyle Brunsons and Phil Iveys of the world, that the money ultimately falls. A surrogate for the millions of Americans who fantasize about becoming professional poker players, Greenspan ends up debunking the myth that it's an easy lifestyle, pointing to the long hours, the stress of high stakes poker, and the dysfunctional personalities that inhabit the poker world. Accordingly, despite concluding that he is good enough to play professionally, Greenspan decides the poker life isn't for him. Readers will applaud the good sense of this able and likable writer. <i>(Aug.)</i> <br />Copyright  Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
zlib_text: 
  
  
  # Booked for Murder
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  by
  
  
  
  
  
  C. M. Sutter
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chapter 2
  
  
  That night was Steve’s turn to host the poker party. The five of us had been
  best friends for damn near twenty years, ever since we’d attended college
  together. But now, we all had busy lives, and although it was painfully
  obvious that we didn’t get together as often as we wanted, we took turns
  hosting our poker night every few months. In March, it would be at my house,
  and if our cold Chicago winters blew in some bad weather, everyone would stay
  put until the next day. It had been like that for years, with no end in sight.
  
  
  “Damn it, McCord, are you on a lucky streak or something?” Joe Zimdars, the
  crime fiction author in our group—and the one who drove the farthest, from
  Pleasant Prairie, Wisconsin—grumbled as he checked the time. “I’m heading out
  at midnight. That gives me another few hands to recoup my money.”
  
  
  We laughed at his optimism. Joe was the worst poker player I’d ever known. He
  never ca