Of course I was. Are you kidding me? I loved to play cards. Texas Hold 'em, that's my game, man. And the worst thing I coulda done was move to a place where there was a cardroom not fifteen minutes away from where I worked. So you basically knew where to find me any odd evening or weekend. I'd plop myself down there at the green felt, order me up a nice scotch and soda, and wait for those two aces to come flying my way. Hours. Hours and hours. I loved it.

Even studied up on the game, too. I've got famous books by famous people who you have absolutely no idea who they are. I know how to read hands. I know the proper starting hands and how to play them based on your position, both actual and virtual positions mind you. I know when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em. I can fool the foolers and bullshit the bullshitters and basically lay low and stay cool while the rest of the schlubs get hammered or wrung out, go on tilt, and start passing out their kids' college funds to anyone in the room. That's what it's all about, man.

Thing is, though, I never seemed to make any money. Oh, I'd come home up a rack or two on occasion and throw a little party for myself, but those racks never lasted long, and you began to learn the look on my face when, goddammit, I can't believe I caught another run of cold cards that lasted all friggin' night. They were pulling draws on me so bad that even Ripley woulda called you a nutcase if you told him.

So now, all of a sudden, I have a "gambling problem". Yeah, if I was coming home with little old ladies' gold jewelry and had Benjamins flapping in the breeze because my pockets were so stuffed I couldn't wedge 'em all the way in there, then we'd see how much of a "problem" I had. But no, he's down ten bucks again and he just can scrape back to get it, so he's got a serious addiction, and a major cause for galactic concern for his emotional well-being. Plus, he smells like an ashtray.

See, but then this miracle occurred, and I had to move away. Problem solved! Where'd I move? New Jersey! Uh oh, isn't that where Atlantic City lives? Well, yes it is, but you see, it's a two hour drive, and those stickers on my license plates are still expired, so the Donald won't be seeing much of me, knowing how hard it is to get me to go to the DMV. But I already talked about that, so never mind. I'll just hang out here in my apartment, get my ashtray smell on at the local dives, and eliminate about eleven of the twelve steps.

Woulda worked fine, too, except they got this newfangled contraption out there now called the "Internet". Let's you do damn near anything your fool heart desired. And there is no fooler heart on the planet than yours truly'ses.

You can play cards on the net, you say?

It was probably around the eighteenth straight hour I played one weekend, with the sun coming up on a beautiful Sunday morning outside my drawn blinds, with the lights off and a bottle of Glade at the ready to drown out the various odors that occur from sitting in one place for eighteen hours, that I looked up and realized that perhaps they were not so irresponsibly hasty with their irresponsible charges of irresponsibility.

After this hit me, I immediately deleted all the software, cashed out what meager "e-chips" I had remaining in my "e-account", waited for my "e-money" to be "e-delivered" to me by an "e-Mexican", looked in the mirror and admitted that I had a problem. And since that day, I haven't played once. Now I just shoot up. No, no, just kidding.

Now this little episode had one unforeseen consequence, that being that I actually started collecting some money in my bank account. What am I supposed to do with this, now?

"Make your money work for you!"

Ah, investing. The wise man's alternative to cards. People are making cash hand over fist and jumping from buildings in fits of joy over their newfound fortunes. This is definitely the right thing to do. The problem is, I think I'm coming into this game a little too late. I am the last person I know, including my five year old nephew who already has to ride the short bus, who knows next to dick about investing. I wouldn't know selling short from selling shorts. Somebody please help me.

Someone helped me, and basically said, "Put it in tech! And biotech! Ride the wave, man! Retire by dinnertime! Sit around in your underwear eating ice cream straight from the pint for the rest of your days! Tech! Biotech!" I am a very trusting soul. I put together a big, heaping, steaming bowl of cash and sent it in, tongue too dry to lick the stamp, fingers trembling too badly to affix it properly to the little square. It arrived at the brokerage last Wednesday. I went online Thursday to buy all my tech and my biotech.

I checked back on Friday to see how I did.

I used to play cards a lot. I used to play cards at least twenty hours a week, more often thirty or, on a good week, forty. And like I said, I had many more losing sessions than winning ones, and probably got a little too involved in that whole scene, and sometimes think back and wince about the good times that went bad, and the bad times that went worse, and the feeling of glancing down at my wallet and seeing nothing but imitation leather and empty photo sleeves. I feel genuinely bad about losing all that money.

I lost more on that first day of investing than I ever lost in a poker game. It's basically all gone. And I didn't get even any of the camaraderie, challenge, free drinks, or adrenaline rushes that were commonplace at the cardtable.

Oh yeah, this was a great idea! I mean, biotech?! What is this now, I'm betting on whether they figure out how to make beavers the size of humpback whales and clone Bob the mechanic at the Sunoco down the street fifty-five times? What kinda idiotic crap is that? And apparently as soon as people saw me getting on there and clicking my little "Buy!" buttons, they decided that computers and technology were really just a passing fad, and they better get out now before the crash and go back to starting fires with sticks and frolicking in the woods. Is that it? Thanks a lot, people! This eight-for-a-dollar oriental soup is really tasty! Here, have some!