Poker Articles

Marijuana Slim
By Dave Cinch
(All Rights Reserved)

As best I can, I'm gonna try to describe for you this player in our home game that I dubbed "Marijuana Slim." He was a case. Just imagine the tightest player you have ever seen in your life, and you'll be about halfway to how tight this guy was. He was so tight he needed a grease job on his elbow to ante up.

His nickname, for obvious reasons, came from his frequent "cigarette" breaks while playing. He rolled his own with that wacky stuff, in an attempt to relax his incredibly uptight personality. It didn't work, but it wasn't from lack of trying. He used to smoke two or three pounds a day of the "imported good stuff" (he called it). He practically chain-smoked the stuff. He'd get higher than those guys in the Cheech and Chong movies who passed their reefer right out the window to the patrolman that had just pulled them over, just trying to be nice. How high is that? Too damn high to be on top of your game playing poker. Nevertheless, Slim, who was a purely mathematical/percentage/edge-type player, would regularly insist he had played "flawlessly" after a session. We'd all get a kick out of his glowing self-appraisals; he was so damn serious and sure about it.

But when you try to play like he did - strictly the nuts, that is - there's like a pressure cooker building up inside of you every time you take a beat. So it was with Marijuana Slim, whose kettle was on "whistle" from the first day I knowed him. It's vicious to always be in there with a group one hand taking beats, and never be in there on a lark just gambling, putting the beat on the other guy. There's a cumulative effect to that, which is the reason nut players tilt so badly.

Slim was a fulltime Reno player for a while in the '80's, but got 86'ed for misbehavior. I'm telling you it was easier to just let this guy have the pot than to draw out on him, he was so hotheaded. He got thrown out of Harrah's $5-$15 Hold'em game for tearing up his glasses, slinging them against a slot machine, and then slugging holes in the bathroom wall - all over a kicker beat. He may be the only $5-$15 poker player who ever made the infamous "Griffin Book" as an "undesirable" customer. Such honors are usually reserved for extremely dangerous (to the casino) characters.

I used to eagerly await "Slim's" occasional late-night visits to our apartment. He always had a buzz on something and never hesitated, while in his inebriated state, to ramble on and on unceasingly about life, poker, politics, world events… anything at all. He was absolutely one of the most opinionated people on earth, and with a buzz on, he would let it fly. It was funny to hear. He knew everything - like a lot of poker players do - and made no apology for it.

He never even knocked on the door when he arrived at our townhouse late at night. He would just barge in with his standard "Hold the applause" line (meaning "No need to cheer for his guest appearance," I guess), as he made a beeline straight for the refrigerator and a cold brew. I didn't drink myself, but my older brother (himself an indescribably bad poker player) used to keep some imported cold ones in the fridge for just such occasions. We knew when Marijuana Slim was kicked back on our couch with a steady supply of brews, rolling up a few stogies and coming down from another night of beats, the next three hours were going to be a gripping philosophy session. I would have gladly paid admission; it was that good. If I happened to be upstairs asleep when I heard him come in, I would always get up and go down to the living room so I wouldn't miss it. I was a young player (about 22 at the time), and was eager to soak up some wisdom from an older, established player such as Slim (which is exactly what he was, only with a few peccadilloes). He was an archetype of a gaming subculture personality-type I would come to identify and theorize about (thank you very much), in that he didn't have an inch of gamble to him, but was capitalizing on the suckers who were laden with it from head to toe. He saw himself as the prohibitive favorite in all poker lineups, so it really set him off when the maniacs got the best of him. It got to what poker writers would call his "ego," and, as such, was a serious threat to his emotional stability.

Sometime in the late 1980's he disappeared on us. By that I don't mean he quit coming around to the game, I mean he changed his identity and completely disappeared. He went missing. No one has heard from him since over a decade ago, at which time he was openly planning his disappearance, but we just didn't believe he'd really do it. I realize now that if a man needs to start over in life, he's got the right. That's in the U.S. Constitution I think, or maybe an amendment in the Bill of Rights, gamblers version. Said amendment, therein and hereby, as described, which we prize and cherish and hold dear, is what gives a man the prerogative right to use every angle he deems necessary to wiggle out of trouble, thereby exercising his liberties in the pursuit of happiness. (Or something like that. You know, legal-speak.)

In other words, if you're out there gambling and angle-shooting, and life paints you into a corner, you just start a new life - like Marijuana Slim did. Cancel all previous accounts, go on the lam, and start over with a clean slate. It's a legit move.

Like his namesake "Amarillo," Marijuana Slim cut a memorable path through the gaming world. He may not be quite as heralded as his Texas counterpart, but that doesn't mean he isn't memorable. He's gone, but not forgotten. Every time I see a player who won't put a cracker in the pot without a "Group 1 Triple-A" hand and who flies into rages over beats, I remember the unforgettable character that introduced me to serious poker - good old Marijuana Slim. I would roll one up in memory of him right now, but I don't touch the stuff. Okay I tried it once, but I didn't inhale. I got so high I was throwing potato chips in the pot and taking bites out of my poker chips by mistake. I can't afford that, so I swore off the stuff. But since I didn't inhale, at least I know I still got a shot to be President some day. I wouldn't use the Oval Office for all the sundrious purposes that Clinton did, but we'd have some great poker games in there. First and foremost - damn near before my inauguration - I'd offer a full pardon to Marijuana Slim and send him an engraved invitation to the First Poker Game. He'd get total amnesty for everything he did before he disappeared, and everything he might have done since. When we bellied up, we'd be gambling, and he'd be waiting for the nuts. Just like old times.