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10/4/25 |
October THR Update |
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Greetings THR Listeners! As always I want to take a moment and thank everyone for their loyalty to THR and I hope everyone is still enjoying the daily/weekly tournaments. Please continue to bear with us as we continue to make changes to the site to give you the best user experience possible. There might be brief moments during the construction phase where things don't look right. In an effort to not shut down the site during "construction", many of the changes and tweaks are done live. If something doesnt look correct for a moment, we know as we are making changes live. We will continue to modify the product until we are happy with finished product. Once complete be ready for a kickoff broadcast! |
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BAD BEAT ENTERPRISES |
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Walter Loses it! A THR Poker Story
Walter, with his tie-dye shirt and a peace sign pendant dangling from his neck, was the grooviest hippy in the virtual poker scene. His online avatar, a bearded dude with round sunglasses, radiated chill vibes. He’d spent years cultivating a Zen approach to life—and poker—preaching “flow with the universe” to anyone who’d listen in the chat. But tonight, the universe was testing him.
In a low-stakes online poker game, Walter was up against “CardShark69,” a smug player with a shark emoji spamming the chat. Walter had been playing tight, folding junk hands, and building a decent stack. Then it happened. First hand, Walter’s pocket aces got cracked when CardShark69 caught a flush on the river with a measly 7-2 offsuit. Walter’s jaw tightened, but he typed, “Nice draw, man. Peace.” His mantra—stay cool, stay cosmic—held firm.
Breedy Wins! A THR Poker Story
Breedy leaned back in his creaky leather chair, a glass of bourbon sweating on the desk, Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Sweet Home Alabama” blaring through his speakers. His wife, (Name cannot be divulged doe to state law), banged on the office door, yelling about the noise, but Breedy just grinned, his eyes glued to the glowing poker table on his screen. The neighbors could complain all they wanted—tonight, he was in the zone, tearing through a no-limit hold’em tournament like a mustang through open plains.
He’d been grinding online poker for years, funding his whiskey habit and occasional trips to the racetrack with his winnings. Breedy wasn’t a pro, but he had a knack for reading players, even through a screen. Tonight’s final table was down to two: Breedy and some cocky hotshot named Asstrout, whose avatar was a smirking trout in sunglasses. Asstrout had been trash-talking in the chat all night, calling Breedy “old man” and “whiskey breath.” Breedy just sipped his bourbon and let his chips do the talking.