i used to play poker, now i play social media

"Raise," I say, splashing the pot with six $0.50 green chips like I’m Matt fuckin Damon in the classic film Rounders, “three bucks.” // S1E9

This is Episode 9 of Season One: I’m Not? The Best, a multi-month deep dive into the ideas of competition, comparison, testing and achievement. I’ve updated the list of all the episodes - including last week’s two Thanksgiving special episodes here.

an actual photo taken of me doing poker

"Raise," I say, splashing the pot with six $0.50 green chips like I’m Matt fuckin Damon in the classic film Rounders, “three bucks.”

I’m holding Big Slick suited (Ace-King of hearts) in the pocket — a powerhouse hand but only if you play it right. Besides pocket rockets — two Aces — or cowboys — two Kings — it’s probably the third best hand in the game. It’s also a hand that can turn to dogshit if you let everyone limp in for a free flop and catch an inside straight or flush with some bullshit hand like 2/7 offsuit aka The Dumps aka the worst hand in the game.

So, I raise. Three bucks. 

Nate folds. Matt folds. Eric calls. Brad folds. The other Brad folds. Michael calls. 

And there we go. Now we’ve got a good o'l’ fashioned three-way heading into the flop. Me, Michael, and Eric.

“Burn em and turn em” Nate says, burning the top card on the deck - placing it face down to ensure no one is cheating as is customary in no-limit Texas Hold ‘Em — and then showing us the flop, three communal cards that anyone can combine with their hand to make the best five-card hand possible.

Please god do me right I promise I won’t watch any porn for a week if you just take care of me this hand please.  

Ace of clubs, seven of hearts, three of clubs. 

God is a pair of aces. Unless Michael or Eric are holding pocket sevens or threes which would give them three of a kind, I’ve got the best hand possible. 

Quietly we sit at the pool table in Scott’s basement, the only sound made is the rhythmic shuffling of chips, a skill we’ve had plenty of time to perfect during the endless Friday, Saturday, and sometimes Sunday nights spent playing poker.

We’re fifteen and sixteen years old, and poker is our passion. 

In first position, I decide to slow play it and ‘check.’ If they’ve got the triplets, they’ll probably slow play too. If not, I’m guessing they bluff big and try to steal the pot. 

Michael checks. 

Eric lifts the corners of his hand as if he doesn’t know what it is, some grade A bullshit if you ask me. He thinks a minute, shuffling the chips between his fingers. 

“Raise,” he says, “Five,” and before he can even finish, I’m shoving all my chips into the pot, a smile on my face like I just invented scrambled eggs.

“All in.”

Michael folds fast and it’s back on Eric who stands up and takes off his Patriots hat. He’s got more chips than me but not by much, so calling my raise - about $45 - would mean basically going all in himself. 

“I don’t think he’s got it.” he says. 

“NO help” Nate says, reminding everyone of the rule we made up for some reason that people can’t help each other with these decisions.

“Call.” Eric says and flips his cards - three of spades, nine of diamonds.

Fuck yes I’ve got him beat what the hell was he doing calling my pre-flop raise with a 3/9 the dude is insane. 

“Burn and turn” says Nate, revealing the turn - a King of spades.

God is two pairs - aces and kings - the big boys, the American Airlines + King Kong powerhouse that can’t be beat I’ve basically won the only thing.

Eric’s got two outs — the three of clubs or the three of diamonds — which make his odds of winning 4.2%, a fact I know from watching hundreds of hours of World Series of Poker on ESPN.

“Burn em and turn em and here comes the river” says Nate.

Nate burns.

Nate turns.

And the breath I’d been holding tight in my chest drops through my stomach.

A three of fucking hearts which gives fucking Eric a fucking three of a kind - triple threes - which somehow beats my Ace King two-pair?!

God is a fucking liar savage traitor this isn’t fair this is bullshit this isn’t right fuck what the hell that was my hand.

Losing when you are ‘supposed’ to win is called a bad beat. 

Back then, I did not take bad beats well. I still don’t.

the internetherland

A couple weeks ago, I published an anti-technology screed that can be summarized as: ‘social media and the internet and technology are really bad for us actually’ 

As we say in doctor tools school, the post struck a nerve. Comments and emails didn’t pour in, but they certainly drizzled – people seemed relieved to share that they, too, did not love their relationship with the smartphone social web industrial complex (SSWIC).

Something about these admissions felt…new? uncommon? Of note.

And that’s because I think they are actually pretty rare. While we love talking about how WE are all addicted to our phones and social media is a hellscape and how the teens are in trouble, there is a dearth - a dearth! - of people going balls in and saying simply, ‘yea I have a problem.’ 

Especially in person. 

When telling friends about my ‘going offline challenge’ which, spoiler alert, I suck at actually sticking to, I find myself struggling to bring it up.

It feels pathetic. Useless, somehow, like yes i'm addicted you're addicted, the climate’s fucked, and the internet is one giant psyop advertising campaign powered by affiliate links - tell me something I don’t know? Breaking news this is not – we are already broken, the battle is lost so stfu but hey can we talk about AI and how bad it is did you see what happened on yesterday’s daytime sOpen operAI¹  - that lil guy Altman is back in at the company and a bunch of people are mad while others? They’re glad.  

In other words: we become righteous cynics. And god what an amazing thing to be! I certainly can’t. So you’re saying I can feel superior AND helpless to its effects thus forcing - forcing! - me to keep on doing the dumb bad shit I already want to do but don’t want to do but can’t stop myself from doing?

This is how we treat any hyperobject that’s too big to fully understand but too important to not comment on. Gun violence, climate change, Kanye West – there's nothing that can be done, so we employ the helpless yet smug tone of “Well, that’s climate change for ya.”

I knew about the internet being bad before it was cool

Also, it feels like a loser old man yelling at the screen cliche ass thing to say, and there is nothing - nothing! - worse than sounding stupid. "Look, I know things are bad and the planet burns and people keep shooting up schools but god damn it to hell if I'm gonna sound like an idiot at the company's happy hour NO FUCKIN WAY."

And so we say nothing and the bad stuff keeps badding. 

Plus, I tell myself, I’ve known about this shit for a while. I was an early adopter of all this technology and I knew early how bad it was for us, I tell people like I’m talking about an underground band I loved before they got famous. "Oh, y'all are *now* realizing that tech is addictive? Yea, I've known since 2015…have I done anything about it? … No. But that’s because I don’t need to - I’m immune to all their tricks,” I’d say, pointing at my little brain, ”because I already know about them.”  

Again, creating superiority and distance while absolving me from actually making any change because change is impossible so fuck it how could I even try. 

So let me say with all the cliche my little french insides can muster: social media is bad for us. The screens and the tech are bad for us. We'd be better off without them. 

Besides the cliche-ness, it also just sounds...lame. Like ugh who invited 'womp womp wally' to the party? 

Well, not to be all womp womp wally, but y’all it is BAD. Look around, we’re all here in this digital panopticon of our own making, bound by convenience and content, sure, but most importantly, by possibility. 

All in

Let us return briefly to the teenagers playing poker on a pool table in Scott’s basement. They are playing a tournament with buybacks, so Alex - the young man who lost it all on a bad beat worse than just about any in WSOP (World Series of Poker) history - buys back in with another $10. 

Alex is playing ‘on tilt’ - this means he’s playing like a fucking moron lunatic seeking revenge on the people who killed his family. 

Alex folds the first hand, and the second. On the third, he goes All In. 

He is bluffing with a whole lotta nothing 7/10 off suit. Michael calls and shows pocket Kings. 

Alex loses, so Alex buys back in. 

Alex doesn’t have the cash but come on guys he’s good for it. 

Alex grabs another Fresca from the fridge that’s also in the basement. He snacks on some Smartfood popcorn right outta the bag and he goes all in on the first hand come on god where are you he needs you now, god. 

He believes he is ‘due’ for a win because he’s lost so much. Not just due but overdue for a winner but he loses again. 

He buys in again, down now $50. He is embarrassed but he cannot stop the world has become tilted and he cannot see straight but he knows this should not be happening to him he’s good enough to win he just needs to show it he just needs to buy back in he just needs one more go. 

Pot committed 

Social media is a lot like poker. Except instead of playing with chips that represent money, we play with likes that represent worth. 

And oh how sweet that worth can be. 

There’s a term in poker - pot committed - that refers to when you’ve put so much money into a hand that you might as well see it through on the off chance you’ll catch a lucky break and win. 

Besides being a perfect way to describe my past relationship with weed, this also captures what’s happened to us all with the internet. 

We’re pot committed. 

How could we not be? 

Allow me to explain.

the last currency

There’s a passage I love from Jarett Kobek’s i hate the internet (a book I was recommended by someone who reads BAT - I can't find the original rec so if you're reading this plz comment so i can thank you cuz the book is fire). Kobekposits that money is no longer a currency that anyone is striving for - the only currency left is fame: 

IT WAS THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY.

It was the Internet.

Fame was everything.

Traditional money had been debased by mass production. Traditional money had ceased to be about an exchange of humiliation for food and shelter. Traditional money had become the equivalent of a fantasy world in which different hunks of vampiric plastic made emphatic arguments about why they should cross the threshold of your home.

There was nothing left to buy. Fame was everything because traditional money had failed.

Fame was everything because fame was the world’s last valid currency.

I’d isn’t that money has failed or doesn’t matter, but that fame seems to be the only currency by which someone can achieve any social mobility. You’re more or less stuck in the financial class that you were born into, but when it comes to fame - anything is possible. 

And possibility - as my psychiatrist explained to me in yet another one of his pithy bangers - is what addicts seek when they gamble. It isn’t about the result.

It’s the space before the result. 

All the world wide web’s a stage 

In his essay, Burn Down The Stage,

Michael Dean

one of my new favorite writers and also friends who I strongly urge nay demand that you all subscribe to asap, likens the experience of being on social media to that of being a contestant on American Idol:

The name “American” Idol is very revealing. Underneath this talent show was a new premise that was unexpected: democratic fame. You have both the right to be famous and the civic duty to vote on the fame of others. The stage became accessible and interactive.

…

The key innovation of American Idol is dangling fame on an open stage. By enabling 1% of users to radically succeed (the talent), you get the 99% hooked on the game, and that is the customer base. Whether the spectators secretly hope for fame themselves one day, want to experience the ascent of fame vicariously, or, convulse at the whole concept, it’s hard to look away.

And look away we could not. We, the artists of the creator age, the content creators who saw how every day, all around us, people were winning American Internet Idol and becoming famous in the process. 

Let’s all be like origami and fold

My obsession with poker faded but that craving of possibility has only intensified. It’s that craving, I believe, that drives me to keep downloading new notes and task apps and LOVE the process of downloading them - looking at the splash page, hitting download, signing up - maybe something amazing will happen. 

So too with every post we make online. 

And, if the only game in town is fame, we’re too hooked on that possibility to get out. Maybe this only applies to people like me who are ‘creators’ but I don’t think so. Because everyone harbors a dream of something happening. Who among us doesn’t think they have a book in them, or an album of sick beats if they were just given some time to record, or maybe a successful etsy business for handwoven hats that say “BAT HAT” on them to promote the Both Are True international brand. 

the rules of the game

Unlike poker, the rules of the internet are not clear. They are more like a slot machine – intermittent rewards based on who the fuck knows what. In “Ten Arguments for Deleting Your Social Media Accounts Right Now” (also rec’d by someone thank you), Jaron Lanier broke my mind with:

When an algorithm is feeding experiences to a person, it turns out that the randomness that lubricates algorithmic adaptation can also feed human addiction. The algorithm is trying to capture the perfect parameters for manipulating a brain, while the brain, in order to seek out deeper meaning, is changing in response to the algorithm’s experiments…Because the stimuli from the algorithm don’t mean anything, because they genuinely are random, the brain isn’t adapting to anything real, but to a fiction. That process—of becoming hooked on an elusive mirage—is addiction. As the algorithm tries to escape a rut, the human mind becomes stuck in one.

I’d never thought of it that way before — that part of my obsession with these platforms is because I want to win the game by figuring out it’s rules. For someone who likes hard puzzles, this was like a ten thousand piece jigsaw of an all white painting. Plus the pieces kept changing shape and some of them would say awful things about me for no reason.

your turn

We are all dreamers, and the internet has let us dream. Maybe something amazing will happen, we think to ourselves, and not incorrectly. A tweet goes viral and bam, you’ve got yourself a book deal. A LinkedIn post leads to a dream job. A viral photo and it’s ten word caption on IG captures the angst of a generation and you’re now THE voice of that generation by which I mean you have a podcast. 

Notice the formula here – virality leads to financial success that’s more or less stable. But to celebrate these wins is to celebrate a GoFundMe for someone’s knee surgery: by cheering  that is to say an anomaly that differs so greatly from the norm that it engenders in us a celebration.  

For the rest of us, the lack of the dream becomes its own nightmare that perpetuated itself with every scream into the void and every scroll into the doom, always with the nearby proof points that success was happening, just look around, so if it isn’t happening for you, that’s your fucking fault. Take a class make a content schedule NETWORK because here on the world wide worth stock exchange, anyone can be a winner. Even you. 

So whaddya say - another day of playing on tilt because you’re too pot committed? Or are you ready to fold and go outside and feed the ducks?

---

ready to take that $35 leap?

For you to become a paid subscriber using this mega sick deal that honestly I should be put in jail for no trial no nothing just throw me right into the slammer for “dishin out deals that are too damn good.”

Next year, the deal will be way worse by an entire USD dollar. This is the only time it’ll be $35. Act now.

what some recent paid bat heads had to say about why they switched over to paid:

comments

1. anyone here play poker? wanna get an online game going omg this is how it begins but seriously a BAThead poker game actually sounds dope lmk

2. if you decided to become a paid subscriber today, sound off in the comments let’s create a moment and a movement a momevent (guh)

3. for anyone trying to be online less, how’s it going?

5. were you also obsessed with the film Rounders specifically when J-Malkovitch says ‘pay that man his maney he beat me, strait up”

6. Good thanksgiving etc? what’s next for you?

7. How are people feeling about the sOpen operAI joke - its one of those where it just feels like the words HAD to go together but they dont really ya know?

1. Alex you cannot in good faith publish this joke its not worth it the amount of mental horsepower (a lot) needed to understand it relative to how funny it is (not that funny) is obscene and offensive. you will not come back from such a sizable blunder in this lifetime