I think some of you won't be satisfied until Jose is paraded down the Strip** plastered in his i.d, juggling hands, with his Mum and a Notary Public (also bearing i.d) and a marching band in Portuguese national dress ..all of which are hooked up to lie detectors. Nah, some of you still won't believe it..
He's real. His story is real. He's a cool fella who happens to be good at poker. Seems some of you can't bloody stand that; I can only surmise that it is because it makes you feel a little **** about your own abilities and so it's easier to believe that this is an elaborate hoax than some teenager in Portugal is better than you and in a relatively short space of time. Envy is the ulcer of the soul people.
I have a confession.. I'm not pokery and I'm not the gambling type (unless you count the odd little wager on the Grand National, but that's a tradition where I come from). Anyone who knows me knows that yours truly offering to bet an unlimited sum of money on the existence of Jose is a perty big thing. But lets have at it cupcakes. I will have a pang of guilt taking money from people who are clearly terminally stupid but that will only last as long as it takes me to get to Harvey Nichols and clear the shoe department of its Louboutins.
So, take some cheese with your whine, put up or stfu.. and let people who are not such abject ****wits converse with the guy.
Linkies once again to blog and twitter.. just incase they got lost in maelstrom of muppetry..
http://twitter.com/girahpoker
http://girahpoker.blogspot.com/
** Note to Jose: In hot pink speedos