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Lead Story, February 6, 2001 New depths of self destruction were reached in a presumably enjoyable game at Chowhound's last night. 4 different tequilas, 2 scotches, and at least 5 brands of beer were consumed by the table of 9 players. "I figure if I throw enough booze at these guys someone's bound to lose big", said Mark as he mixed another extra-strong margarita for Koneo. The Chowhound's strategy would have paid off if he had simply stuck to the tequila. Lymons got into the scotch and things quickly spiraled downward from there. Hank was a fifty dollar loser. Doc G's knee surgery got about $43.50 further away from reality, but he did get a complimentary chipectomy. Edict partied like it was 1979. And Dano made the kind of rapid exit that only a heavy loser would make. Only Koneo, who partook of virtually all of the evenings recreationals, came out a clear winner. "Ken was so fucked-up that his mind became completely unencumbered by thought. He just played at a higher level...literally. I mean, once you bypass his brain, Ken can be a pretty smart guy," said one prognosticator. Of course, he'd better invest in some lipstick and kneepads if he plans to continue with this strategy. And by the way, he still misdealt a hand. Though I'm sure there were other interesting details to last night's game I'll be damned if I can remember them. And perhaps that is for the best. Koneo pens: 'Ode To The Alternates' Click to read.
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