The Ballad of Tommy LiPuma

These books always suck. A friend, or the writer himself, believes someone with a foothold in the music business once upon a time, even a household name, deserves to have their story written and the result is…unreadable. First and foremost because the author can’t write. And they don’t understand one of the great rules of writing, that sometimes you have to leave the best stuff out, because it doesn’t serve the story you’re telling. The authors are so busy cramming their tomes with stories and facts that the end result is unreadable, and readability is the key. You want readers, and if they’re turned off, your project is a failure. But at least once a week someone begs to send me their book, oftentimes self-published, believing if they just get a little publicity they’ll have a best-seller, and they can smile in satisfaction while they make a bit of money.

But these books always fail.

So they pile up in my house until there’s a day when I course through them, quickly, and put them in the discard pile. And today I had five. I allotted twenty minutes, that was more than enough, but I saved Ben Sidran’s book on Tommy LiPuma for last, because Ben had written me a personal note and Ralph Simon had told me about it on the phone. I just had to convince myself it sucked, and then toss it, justified in my non-read, no matter how close a friend Ralph is. We’re all overscheduled, we all have no time – to listen to someone’s album, to read their book, to watch their movie or TV show is a huge commitment. Usually their friends do and say how great it is, so you can read the few reviews online, and the creator can believe they were a victim of the system, when nothing could be further from the truth.

So, I’ve scheduled this twenty minutes because I’m expecting a delivery, and there’s not enough time to accomplish anything else.

So I started Ben Sidran’s Tommy LiPuma book at 1:15 in the afternoon, and I just finished it at 7:30 tonight. I could not put it down. I blew off everything else, I watched the day fade away, I was engrossed.

I used to hear from Tommy LiPuma all the time, and unlike most of the oldsters, he did not e-mail me to correct me, or to tell me I did not have the complete story, as if I can write an encyclopedia on every subject. Tommy was always friendly and accessible, and informative at the same time. He dealt with me like an equal, which is rare, the music business is one of hierarchy, people look down on you, even if their success happened long ago, they want to send the message that you do not deserve entrance into their club.

And Tommy lived longer than so many of his compatriots. He would weigh in with tidbits when they passed. And then, suddenly, Tommy passed too. He wasn’t supposed to. The longer you live, the longer you live. Statistically that’s true. Think about it. And I have honestly felt his absence in my inbox for the past couple of years, but not so much I was gonna read a bad book about him.

“The Ballad of Tommy LiPuma” is different from all the dreck. You see it’s a compendium of stories. That’s the essence of the entertainment business. Sure, there are some stars, but they can only be on stage an hour or two every night. And it’s a business of grifters and criminals…you need no CV to get into the music business, usually it’s a hindrance, it comes down to who you are.

And Tommy LiPuma was the son of an immigrant barber. Living in Cleveland, cutting hair himself, eventually going on the road to play with a band and getting burned out by the one nighters, deciding to go straight. But he could only cut hair one day, and then he got a job schlepping boxes in the warehouse of a record distributor. How did he get this job? Via the contacts he made as a barber. Right place, right time. Tommy cut hair at the epicenter of radio in Cleveland. And Tommy’s dad could not fathom this choice, making less than a barber shipping boxes, what kind of future was that?

Not the kind you get going to an Ivy League school, getting a graduate degree. you believe that education allows you to start…at least in the middle. But not in the music business, you’ve got to start at the bottom, pay your dues and earn your ascension. Working in the entertainment business is not a right, but a privilege, and to succeed you need to get along, know people and work your network, being good is not good enough.

So, eventually Tommy becomes a radio promotion man, first in L.A., then in New York, and then goes into publishing. You’ve got to do what’s in your heart, what you’re good at. Tommy tried to sell records, he was bad at it. He could do the promo gig, it’s just that he wanted to be closer to the music. And from publishing Tommy went into record production and there begins a storied career.

So, when you get together with music people, it’s all about their stories. Some are famous for it. Donald Tarlton has had me in stitches multiple times, talking about the night the Who got locked up in jail after a Montreal show. Donald got money from the mob, and when he went to bail them out, the members of the band had their hands on the bars and were singing “Don’t Fence Me In.” I’m not sure if that reads funny, but if you heard Donald tell it, the same way he told the story of his thirty minute disco at Expo 67, you’d never forget it. You see there are some facts, which you embellish, which you rearrange, and then you puff yourself up, pump the adrenaline, and do your best to be a great raconteur. Hell, Joe Smith was more famous as a toastmaster than as a record executive. Sure, I’m stretching the truth, but I can remember Joe telling me the story of “Workingman’s Dead”…he signed the band, he kept begging them to make one for ME, and they finally did.

So, the intro to this book says it’s based on stories Tommy told Ben. Oh, there are biographical elements, but then every event, recording the Sandpipers (who knew they were originally the “Grads”?), forming Blue Thumb with Bob Krasnow, cutting “Breezin'” is told as if you were sitting at Martoni’s and Tommy sauntered in and sat down and told you what just happened. Most people are not famous, it’s these stories that are the highlight of their lives.

As for the origin story…

I guess people today don’t understand how those of yesteryear fell into the business. They loved music and they got an opportunity and they kept following that opportunity. Most got spit out, but some kept going and stayed in.

You can’t quantify music. No way. Just because a track reaches #1 we all know that does not mean it’s great. How do you create a great record, how do you capture that magic?

There are some tricks in this book, but I would not read it for that, in reality it’s history. Anybody who survives from the golden years, who is still working at a label today, will tell you it’s the same as it ever was, that today’s acts are just as good, and if you don’t think that way you’re an old fart. But that’s not what it says in this book. Tommy says when the bean counters came in, it was all over. Now it’s all about priorities, there is no artist development. People tell me all the time of the story of artist development on an act, and it’s always about ONE ALBUM! On Warner Brothers, they’d give you a chance to make four or five, to find yourself, to establish a base. Today, if you don’t hit right away, you’re done. And did you read Neil Shah’s story in the “Wall Street Journal” today?

“From Rihanna to Kanye West: Why Music’s Biggest Stars Aren’t Focused on Actual Music – Between fashion collabs, music-competition shows and selling rosé, artists are choosing to follow the money – and the money isn’t in albums”

Everybody on the inside knows this, they’ve known it for years, but when it’s printed in the financial paper of record…the investors know it, the same people who fund the music business (all three major labels are publicly traded, if not alone, as part of a larger conglomerate), and suddenly it’s common knowledge. Yes, we’ve been selling the emperor’s new clothes. Accept it.

And as this article proves, it’s all about the money. Acts will do anything for money, even play for dictators. Credibility is secondary to income and lifestyle. So, if you’re Tommy LiPuma who got into the business for the music, your stomach turns and you retire.

Actually, I think this article in the “Wall Street Journal” is a good thing. Maybe it can represent a turning point, getting back to the garden, making it about music, the most powerful elixir in life other than sex.

So, if you want to know how it used to be, read this book.

But the truth is most youngsters today don’t care, the only thing they want to know about the past is what to sample.

But if you were there, these stories will resonate, and you’ll learn new things. And unlike Clive’s book and movie and…this is not hagiography, it’s just the story of a life (and Tommy takes a swing at Clive too, he doesn’t respect the music “Mr. Music” is responsible for, other than Whitney Houston, he thinks it’s evanescent junk. But Clive is a master of promotion, and the dumb media plays along and we end up where we are today. Clive goes to the studio and his behavior makes Tommy wince.)

So “The Ballad of Tommy LiPuma” is readable. I can’t believe Ben remembered all these stories, but in the intro he says they were good friends. And it demonstrates how nobody from nowhere can make it in music by sheer will and desire…and a passion for the music. And the truth is all those high-paying jobs, especially on Wall Street, they’re essentially empty, there’s no nourishment of the soul, workers just take this cash to buy front row seats, to use their connections to get screeners, because it’s entertainment that rules this world.

And Tommy LiPuma knew how to create it. For every project he had a vision. And he cast his players accordingly. And he learned from Phil Spector to respect his players, and some of the best records were cut very quickly. Today they hammer these tracks trying to make them perfect, when the truth is you either catch lightning in a bottle, or you don’t, it’s just that simple.

My favorite story in the book is the recording of “Only You Know and I Know,” the opening cut on Dave Mason’s legendary “Alone Together.”

“But what really made the song happen was Jim Gordon’s drum part. ‘The rhythm pattern he came up with,’ says Tommy, “which was like a march, just opened the door to the song. When I heard it, even though it was just bass and drums (the initial recording), I knew I had the goods.'”

VOILA!

The record is fresh, timeless. Whenever I write about it people e-mail about the Delaney & Bonnie version, which came out first, which of course I own, demonstrating their “knowledge.” But it’s not about knowledge, it’s about FEEL, it’s something elusive, which is why even though you know the stats, you cannot work in the music business, why trained musicians usually fail in popular music.

I could never put my finger on it. Why I could never burn out on “Only You Know and I Know,” what made it so endearing, to the point every time I hear it it seems brand new, today I found the missing link, now I can see the whole picture, it’s the DRUMS! And Tommy goes on to say the drums are the one thing you’ve got to get right, you can wipe everything else, replace it, but if the drum track is not right, your recording will never be right.

“‘Cause you know, that I mean what I say”

And what I say is if you’re the audience for this book, you’ll dig it.
I’ll let you decide whether it was written for you.

Harlan Coben’s latest book, “The Boy From The Woods,” entered the “New York Times” best seller chart at #1 in April. His breakthrough, “Tell No One,” was made into a Top Ten-listed film, and presently Coben has four successful series on Netflix: “The Five,” “Safe,” “The Stranger” and “The Woods.” Listen as Coben lays down the truth of the writing life, and the long hard road to getting film and television projects into production. Despite spending his days writing, Coben is a great conversationalist whose words are laden with insight. Listen.

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What a show!

I screamed so loud Felice was more scared by me than what was on the screen!

Like I said, I base my viewing on recommendations. In this case Jim Urie recommended “The Twelve,” and then just a couple of days later, so did Bob Pfeifer. Did I trust them?

I wasn’t sure, so I went on RottenTomatoes and found…nothing.

This is kinda like the worldwide #1s, especially the hits in the U.K., not crossing over to the U.S. They’re hiding in plain sight, there’s even a playlist on Spotify, but so many records don’t make the transition. It’s curious. If anything it proves there’s no longer any spontaneous combustion, nothing is so good that it blows itself up. It needs focus. Maybe by a label, with its publicity, marketing and promotion departments, maybe social media, with communities spreading the word.

But I heard nothing about “The Twelve.”

It’s Belgian. For all I know there could be a dubbed version, but I always employ subtitles, dubbing makes a show unbelievable, and you soon start to believe the actors are speaking in English anyway. Don’t ask me to explain it, they’re obviously speaking a foreign language, but you’d expect to run into them on the street and have them speak perfect English, with no accent.

So, the “Twelve” are the jury. Yup, it’s one of those shows, what will the jury decide.

But that’s not what makes it so interesting, it’s the characters.

Of course we want to know who committed the crimes. And you’re constantly changing your opinion, but…

For me the star was Arnold. A juror. His wife died and he can’t get over it. He tries to be nice to people and they reject him. His coworkers make fun of him, as do his neighbors. You feel so bad for him. There are so many people like this in real life, especially elders. What they don’t tell you is as you age you will have fewer friends. You won’t hang out at bars, you’ll find it’s hard to get somebody out of their house. And if you’re single, or your significant other dies, or you break up, you’re totally screwed. If you’re lucky, you’ll have people who will allow you to be the fifth wheel, if not…you’re alone, with only words and pictures to keep you company. Of course you can go online and try to find someone new, but even if you have the gumption, to get rejected at this age, to relive high school, to relive your adolescent anxieties, you’ll too often find people just like you…hurt, damaged, looking for someone to save them. I know from experience, in the nineties I had a free subscription to AOL, I lived online, it consumed my life the rest of the decade. And you could meet people in chat rooms, or on Love@AOL, or when the web gained momentum, Match.com, to which I still have a free lifetime subscription, if I could ever remember the login and password. It’s bad enough navigating these issues when you’re young, you’ve got context, you see people every day in school, you’ve got commitments, your whole day is scheduled, but when you get old, you’re lucky if you even have a job, and you can join the social groups but what you’ll find is…members are much younger than you are, and you get sick of being labeled the oldster, or they’re the same age or older than you, and half-dead already.

And then there’s Delphine. With her jealous husband. Is it them, or is it you? I had a possessive girlfriend. I’ve never cheated on anybody in my life, I’m loyal, I’m committed, but she was not only jealous of other women, but my time. But there were positives, and you’re always weighing whether it’s worth the sacrifice, you’ve been together so long, they know all about you, can you handle the breakup?

That’s another thing they don’t tell you, how hard breakups are. The only person who really gets you you can’t talk to anymore. And even if your friends listen at first, they burn out, they don’t want to hear it anymore.

And twelve step programs… What does it take for people to jump the rails? I just read a fantastic book. On one hand I’m loath to recommend it, because it’s short stories, and they leave you hanging, as if the typesetter forgot the ending. You turn the page and…there’s a new story, how could this be? But the writing is great. Reading it made me aware that anybody can publish a book, but very few can write. Yes, people can lay out facts, even plot, but to have the words cut like butter, to create images in the reader’s mind, to make the reader eager to read, to forget everything else in their life while they’re consuming, that’s really difficult. The book is called “Cool for America”:

Cool for America: Stories

It’s very easy to read, but it’s not for casual readers. If you just want information, this book is not for you. If you need everything tied up in a bow, this book is not for you. But if you’ve got more questions than answers, if you think about your choices, read it. The stories are about millennials. Not all of them are bankers, techies, living life in the fast lane, at least financially. Many went to college and are drifting, waiting for the world to reveal itself. And a lot of moral issues come up in “Cool for America,” if the person is married…and do you stay clean and do you take a flyer?

And you think you know people by their exterior, even by what they say and do, but the truth is you don’t really know them at all.

And people can be mean. And their priorities can be screwed up. And as a parent, to what degree should you get involved in your children’s choices. When I was growing up, our parents knew little, but if you crossed the line there’d be hell to pay. Today, parents know everything about their kids, they’re their best friends, make me puke, but they want to control them all the while. I went to college and my parents didn’t care what I took, if I passed it was cool, same deal with law school. As far as telling me what courses to take, I was on my own.

And then there are the people who just cannot accept the inherent flaws of others, the baked-in stuff, that cannot be changed. It’s screwing up their life. But if you can’t accept others…

And then there’s the issue of borderline personality disorder. Where they put you on a pedestal, and then tear you down and leave you when you least expect it. That’s an element of this show, and I lived it in my real life, I’m not sure if I’ve recovered yet, it messes up your sense of trust.

And does everybody lie on the stand these days? Do the police manipulate evidence? It seems the richer you are, the less you’re beholden to the rules. The regular folk have a sense of honor, at least more of them.

And then there’s the tell-tale heart, yup, right out of Edgar Allan Poe. Can you commit a crime and get away with it and live with yourself? Can you cope, can you put one foot in front of another? Maybe only psychopaths and sociopaths can do this.

But at first “The Twelve” was not a recommendable show. It just seemed like a genre series. But as the episodes unspooled, the characters became three-dimensional, their identities came clear. The defense attorney bugged me, but over time I came to love him.

And very little is definitive, certainly when it comes to legal issues. The truth may just not be revealed, you’re gonna have to live with the fact that…you might get it wrong. I’m not eager to put someone in jail for thirty years without the evidence being perfectly clear, and as I just said, it’s usually not.

So, as the episodes unfold, you see people’s flaws, their situations come clear to the point where you switch sympathies. And I don’t think every jury would have this many issues, but maybe I just haven’t lived enough, maybe I just don’t know people.

And in this Covid-19 era… It’s like “Groundhog Day,” every day is the same. I’m lucky enough to be busy business-wise, but there are no concerts, no meetings, no get-togethers, and it can become oppressive. And people my age fall into two categories. One, those on complete lockdown, who don’t want to see anybody. Two, those who say they’re quarantining, but really are not, you question them and you find they’ve been to restaurants, they flew on planes, they took vacations, but they’re healthy and they can’t understand why you won’t loosen up. Then you read about people, even young people, who feel this way and then…Covid-19 bites them in the ass.

So, when I find a show I can get into, and most I cannot, it’s the highlight of my night. I don’t see it as entertainment, but life. It’s always strange when you see the same characters playing different roles, you thought you had them nailed and then you do not, like Thierry Godard, who is radically different in “Spiral” than “A French Village.”

And “The Twelve” is not as good as either of them, it’s not in the same league. But the more I watched it, the more I realized it was a cut above most of the dreck people tell me to watch.

So…kinda like with “Cool for America,” you’re on your own. If you’re not willing to commit to “The Twelve,” don’t even bother, because unless you watch it to the end, you probably won’t respect it.

I’m just pissed it’s over.

The Twelve

The trailer at the above link is DUBBED! It horrified me, because the Flemish voices sound nothing like this. If you don’t know how to turn on subtitles, watch this video:

How To | Subtitles & Audio | Netflix

“The Biggest Bluff: How I Learned to Pay Attention, Master Myself, and Win”

If you play poker, you must own this book. If not…there are a lot of psychological lessons which you’ll find interesting, although they tend to interrupt the narrative of the book. Also, if you don’t play poker, or are a newbie, at the end there is a glossary that will help you out, not that you need to know everything to understand the story.

So you’ve got a Ph.D. psychologist, Maria Konnikova, whose family is down on its luck, who decides to learn and play poker in order to write a book. She reaches out to Erik Seidel, a majordomo in the poker world, and he mentors her and…

She wins money.

Proving that all you amateur poker players out there have something to learn. I’d like to tell you about Konnikova’s victories, but I don’t want to ruin the book. Suffice to say there are the math whizzes, but they don’t necessarily win.

Konnikova focuses on poker, Texas Hold’em, because it’s the closest representation of regular life you can find. In chess, you can see everything, whereas in life, you never can. And in Texas Hold’em, the sky’s the limit, you can bet as much as you want, begging the question…are you sure about that? Come on, you’re spewing facts all day long, but if someone came along and said they’d bet 100k on it, would you be so convinced?

So the first lesson Seidel gives is…

“Less certainty. More inquiry.”

He says this over and over again. That the game, the world, runs on information, and you want to gather as much as you can before you make a decision.

This was my father’s mantra…ASK QUESTIONS!

Most of us, males especially, are worried about image, how we’ll look. That’s another thing covered in this book, if you’re worried about others’ perception, if they’ll laugh at you, chide you, you’re already a loser. That’s one of the reasons Jason Flom is so successful, he’ll ask anybody anything, he doesn’t always profess to know, while so many elite players are afraid to say this, to their detriment.

So there are lessons about fakers, and bullies.

Konnikova is playing at the Golden Nugget, or maybe it’s Planet Hollywood, and a guy says he’s a newbie and knows nothing. A sham, he ends up taking everybody’s money. Welcome to the real world, where you may not see this person ever again, where the factual rules aren’t broken but the emotional ones are, but there’s no court for emotional transgressions.

Seidel insists Konnikova start online. And when she ultimately goes to Vegas, to play in the secondary market. The big swinging dicks play at the Aria, you want to be prepared, not that everybody at the table at the Aria is. You see, they’re distracted. Checking their phone, missing minor, yet critical, information.

The tells.

Konnikova says there are none. She thinks she can read people, but she finds out she’s completely wrong, not to trust her instincts. She ultimately goes to the experts, scientists who’ve studied the game, and learns that the only tell is in people’s hands! In other words, you’re confident you know what a person is thinking based on their attire, their head movements, but you’re totally wrong.

As for paying attention 24/7, it’s the little things that pay dividends down the road. You see how someone acted previously, even if you weren’t in on every hand.

And don’t play every hand. Sure, there are some who are legendary aggressors who win, but most don’t. You’ve got to choose your moment.

And beware of bullies. This truly resonated with me, especially in Hollywood. There are gonna be people who put you down and have you questioning yourself, that’s their game, you put your tail between your legs and fold. You’ve got to be strong in your opinion, you’ve got to stand your ground, the bullies are not going to like it, but it’s the only way you’re going to win.

And if you can’t stand the heat, stay out of the fire.

The first time Konnikova is in the World Series, she ends up catatonic in the bathroom. This is what those who’ve never competed at an elite level don’t know. That skill is one thing, being able to demonstrate it when it counts, keeping yourself steady and together, is oh-so-hard.

But the biggest lesson is…

Konnikova has an incredible hand. But after going all in, she’s loses to someone who has the only cards that could beat her. And Konnikova goes to the Aria, to tell Seidel her story, and he immediately holds up his hand and says…I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT!

Don’t we live for our stories, how we got unjustifiably screwed? But the truth is there’s always chance, there are no guarantees, sometimes you’re gonna give it your best effort, based on the best information available, and you’re still gonna lose. The key is not to dwell on that, but to continue to march forward, keep your equilibrium and soldier on. That’s so difficult. To keep an even keel. To not focus on the losses. But you need to acquire this skill to survive not only in poker, but in life. You lose your job…happens to everyone. Just start looking for another one!

Here are some quotes:

“I’ve let them get to me. I didn’t want to be pushed around – but I wasn’t comfortable doing the pushing around, either. And the result is this mess of a hand. I’m hopeless at this game. And apparently, I’m hopeless at life. A gutless female who wants to be liked more than she wants to win. Maybe I don’t want to go to Vegas, after all. Maybe the WSOP (World Series of Poker) is better off without me.”

You can only win if you want to, if you’re willing to do what it takes, go on offense. You cannot win in life playing defense all the time, no way. And in a man’s world, you cannot win by being demure and avoiding confrontation, you’ve got to have a backbone, stand up for what you believe in, what’s right. Furthermore, the cascade of negatives can truly put you in a frame of mind where you can never win.

Oh yeah, one of the worst things that can happen is you win early, thinking it was your skill as opposed to your luck. So many times early winners fade away, because they didn’t focus on the development of the skills they need to survive.

“And you learn best when you’re playing every day.”

That’s how I got to be a great skier, going each and every day, whether it was raining, snowing or ten below zero. Forget the 10,000 hours I needed to achieve that skill, it’s the 1% that makes all the difference. So when you’re in a tight situation, you survive. Like skiing in France on a cat track in the shade, with no one in sight, and coming around a corner and finding sheer ice interspersed with dirt and rocks. To the right, a wall, to the left, a drop-off, and I’m going so fast there’s no way I could stop, so…I just let the skis run, even though this put me in a situation where I was out of control…I just kept my cool and figured somewhere down the line the terrain would change and I could save myself, and I did.

It’s about the fine edge, that’s what makes the difference between a winner and a loser. Oh sure, a weekend warrior can ride the tram at Big Sky, and maybe even survive on the double blacks. But if things go wrong… But if you’ve skied every day, you can recover from a mistake.

And if you’re not passionate about the pursuit to begin with…GIVE UP, or make peace with the fact you’re an amateur.

“In an age of constant distraction and never-ending connectivity, we may be so busy we miss the signals that tell us to swerve before we’re in the bad beat’s path.”

I’m into my iPhone, I love the digital age, but if you’re not focused on what’s important, you’re gonna lose. No distractions during the game, antenna wide open, receiving signals. Furthermore, most people don’t want to get in this zone, because they still might lose, they’d rather laugh and consider themselves an amateur, saying they could win if they wanted to, when the truth is they can’t.

“But here’s where something of the Dunning-Kruger effect creeps in. Yes, that one. The one that shows that the less competent you are in an area, the more likely you are to overestimate your degree of competence. That the less you know about a topic, the more you think you know – as long as you know just enough to start feeling a bit fluent in its vocabulary.”

This happens to me all the time, people confront me with their truth when I know it’s false. I used to correct them, now I never do, because they can’t handle it, they usually just double-down on the falsehood.

Life is like an onion, you keep peeling back the layers. The winners get all the way to the nub, the losers peel back the first skin and think they know everything. Never take the first source as gospel. Keep questioning. It drives my compatriots mad, if it’s important to me I’ll research and ask the same damn questions over and over again, to see if I get the same response, I want to find out how sure the person is in their conviction.

“First dates are about dazzle. You play each hand, even when you’d rather fold and crawl back home admitting defeat.”

First, you must take the risk, if you do not play, you cannot win, but you will never win every time, be prepared for rejection. And when you’re trying to make a good impression, you can’t lay back, the opposite of poker. You’ve got to be aggressive, lay it all out there, even if you’re wincing inside, unsure if you’re winning or losing.

“You can’t control what will happen, so it makes no sense to try to guess at it. Chance is just chance: it is neither good nor bad nor personal.”

In other words, you can give it your best and still lose. And you’ve just got to accept this and move on.

I’d love to tell you “The Biggest Bluff” is an easy read. But the narrative is interrupted by the psychology, as if Konnikova was proving to her publisher she was delivering on her pitch. I found the narrative more interesting than the lessons. More story, less insight. But just when you get bogged down in the lessons, Konnikova goes back to the narrative.

You can make millions in poker, but don’t expect any respect:

“And he (Dan Harrington) tells me that those views may never change, no matter what I do. He recalls the moment he told his mother he won the World Series of Poker. ‘Well, what do you think, Mom? I won a million dollars. I’m world champion of poker!’ he remembers telling her. And she replies, ‘Oh, that’s great Danny. You know we have a cousin Pádraig Harrington. He’s a golfer, and he just won eighty thousand dollars in the Spanish Open.’ Dan persists. ‘Mom, I won a million dollars. I’m world champion.’ And she has one answer. ‘Listen, Danny, he’s doing well on the European tour.'”

I’ve got no patience for poker. Cards are not my thing. But having read this book I’m certainly convinced that winning is no accident, that it takes skill.

And if you truly want to fix your problems, go into therapy. But for some insight into how the world works, there’s no better instruction manual than this book.