by We literally rang in the new year a few minutes after my last post, as the cathedral bells chimed like billy-o. A few people set off fireworks from their gardens but the streets were empty; there was an 11pm curfew. Shortly afterwards, the eleven-year-old boy I teach sent me a lovely text to wish me a happy new year.
I saw this coronavirus logo today. I thought it was clever and effective:
This new Covid variant is more transmissible, so the threshold for herd immunity will be higher. We all need to take the vaccine – it’s that simple – but scarily many people will refuse. I saw some eye-popping figures from a survey in France. Last week the woman in Maramureș said she wouldn’t be taking the vaccine, that it’s bad to wear a mask unless you know you’re infectious (?!?!), and that the virus is harmless unless you’re already very sick beforehand and it doesn’t kill anyone who wouldn’t have died soon anyway. Sorry, but that isn’t true. “My English isn’t very good. I don’t think you understand what I’m saying.” No, you’ve got your points across perfectly well. It’s just that you’re talking utter dangerous bollocks. And she’s training to be a nurse, would you believe. My hope is that when people that the vaccine isn’t causing severe side effects, they’ll eventually fall in line and take it themselves.
The renowned music-and-poker guy I mentioned yesterday goes by the name of Steve Albini. He seems a thoroughly good guy. I wouldn’t mind being him, I think. Another good guy is a friend from Wellington who I thought might have blipped off the radar for good, but it was a real pleasure when he replied to my Christmas email. I hope we can stay in touch.
I visited the mall very briefly yesterday. Part of the reason I don’t like modern malls (Covid or not) is their slickness. I realise I don’t do slick. For instance, just before Christmas I watched a live online broadcast of the “great conjunction” of Jupiter and Saturn, where the two planets merged in the same line of sight. The commentator was Italian, and his English was rudimentary, but he had a passion for astronomy that came across more fully because of his imperfect English. (Some things I prefer to be slick. Public transport. Online banking and payments. In fact all service industries in general. But otherwise I’m happy for things to be more imperfect and authentic.)
I looked at some of my stats from last night’s badugi tournament. I won 23 out of 43 showdowns, a little over half, but I went just 3-from-11 when we got heads-up. The heads-up part lasted all of 31 hands; I could have sworn it was longer. On Wednesday I played my craziest hand ever at the micro badugi cash tables, crazier than any of the tens of thousands of hands I played back in the day. There were two maniacs at the table, betting and raising until the first three streets were capped. With my hand I had no choice but to come along for a very bumpy ride. I could hardly believe it when the nine of diamonds I spiked on the last draw was enough to give me the $24 six-way pot. When you’re running a small bankroll, a hand like that can make an outsized difference.
