Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Number Crunching (1 of 4)

Just got off the 6-max, $0.50/$1.00 limit hold ’em tables. Was playing one on PokerStars, the other on Full Tilt Poker. I played exactly 100 hands -- 50 on each site. Ended up ahead $4.70 on Full Tilt, and just $1.45 ahead on Stars. Was as much as $12 down on FTP, and as much as $9 or so ahead on Stars, before settling back to where I ended up -- a total of $5.15 gain for the 100 hands I played.

Is this typical? A post over on Simon’s Poker Blog a couple of months ago got me interested in this “standard deviation” business and so I’ve been diggin’ around, trying to figure out what to make of it. As Simon tells us, if you use Poker Tracker you can click on the “More Detail” button under “Session Notes” (in the ring game stats) and you’ll see your “standard deviation” neatly calculated for you. Should this number be meaningful?

Since the beginning of the year, I have played around 80,000 hands of 6-max, $0.50/$1.00 limit hold ’em. Only about half of ’em are here in my database, unfortunately, as I suffered a computer meltdown in the early summer and lost a few months’ worth of stats. Those of you who use Poker Tracker, avoid Shamus’s misfortune and backup your databases on a disc or external drive! It’s only a matter of copying a few .mdb files -- click here to read Pat’s instructions about backing up your data.

For the 36,000 or so hands (of the 6-max limit game) that I currently have in my database, I see that I currently enjoy a win rate of just over 2.5 BB/100 hands. (Here, BB = “big bets,” not big blinds, so we’re talking about $2.50/100 hands.) Now I know that rate has fluctuated between 2 and 3 during the entire run, but for the most part the rate has hung around the 2.5 mark pretty much throughout. I also know that before the crash, I had just about the same rate for the 50,000-odd hands I had in there before. (Reading around I see that 2 BB/100 hands is generally considered a decent rate for micro/low limit games, so I’m doing okay there, I suppose.)

Poker Tracker tells me my current “standard deviation” when playing this particular game at this particular limit is just a hair under 18 BB/100 hands. (That’s about where I was before the crash, also.) If understand it correctly, my “standard deviation” indicates the likelihood that I will in fact win my “average” 2.5 BB in the next 100 hands I play. (Please, if anyone knows better about any of this stuff, correct me mercilessly.)

Of course, I usually don’t earn exactly $2.50 for every 100 hands. Sometimes I earn $5.15 (like today). Sometimes I lose $12. Sometimes I win $20. Having a standard deviation of 18 BB/100 means that I will usually (but not always) land in a range anywhere from 20.5 BB up to 16.5 BB down. In other words, the number indicates the degree of “variance” I should expect when playing this particular game. In fact -- as my old statistics textbook explains -- “variance” is precisely the square of “standard deviation,” so these two terms are directly related to one another.

Now if I had literally made or lost no more than 2 or 3 BB for every 100 hands I played, my statistical deviation would have been much lower. But I didn’t. Obviously my wins and losses during those individual 100-hand segments were much greater, and thus my standard deviation is 18 BB/100. From reading around, I see that my number here isn’t necessarily that unusual. (Keep in mind I am playing 6-max games, where one tends to experience more variance than at full tables.) I could be wrong, but I’d venture to guess that my win rate (2.5 BB/100 hands) and my standard deviation (18 BB/100 hands) are both fairly typical for moderately successful players who spend most of their time at this limit.

The more hands a person has played, the more representative stats like win rates and standard deviations become. There is a lot of disagreement about how many hands constitutes a meaningful sample, but for the sake of argument I’m going to assume that my 80,000-hand sample is enough to ensure that these numbers mean something.

I thought I’d use the next three posts to “think out loud” and explain (to myself and to anyone else who is interested and who might help me) what these numbers -- my win rate, my standard deviation, the number of hands I’ve played -- might help me as I try to assess myself as a player. Here are the questions I thought I’d try to answer over the next three posts:

(1) How might I use these stats to predict how my next 100 hands (of 6-max, $0.50/$1.00 limit hold ’em) will go?

(2) How might I use these stats to determine what kind of bankroll is suitable for me to be playing this particular game at this particular limit?

(3) How might I use these stats to help decide whether or not it might be time for me to make the move (seriously, not just occasionally as I am doing now) to a higher limit game?

Before I do, though, I think I’ll head back to the tables for another hundred or two. Not sure yet what these stats are going to tell me, but I am pretty sure they ain’t gonna tell me math is more fun than poker.

Photo: “Chinese Abacus,” Dave Fischer. CC BY-SA 3.0.


Monday, November 27, 2006

Something from Nothing

Had one of those relatively rare low limit hands yesterday where I not only ran a successful bluff (winning a medium-sized pot), but did so from early position against multiple players. A very fortunate hand, as it turned out. I was dealt QcKs in the small blind. One player limped, then there was a raise in late position. I called, as did the big blind and limper. So four of us saw the flop come 3cTc6c.

The table checked around to the preflop raiser who bet. Knew I was behind, but I raised anyway to see if I might chase one or both of the others out (and to see what I was up against across the table). Unfortunately both called, as did the preflop raiser. The turn brought the Ts, and I bet out again, representing trips. This time two of the remaining three players called. By now I was hoping the flush would not come. When the river brought the 6d, I took a chance and bet again. The first player quickly folded, and the preflop raiser lingered a moment (wondering if his ace would play, no doubt) before folding as well.

More fortunate than skillful, really. We all likely held overcards, and the one who took the lead ended up taking the pot. As it happened, being in early position probably was preferable.

Winning a pot with the worst hand is, of course, one of the undeniable delights of poker. Doing so illustrates in miniature what is really a fundamental pleasure of the game, namely, the chance it affords for one occasionally to feel as though he or she is getting “something from nothing.” One could argue that taking any sort of profit from the table, even a single pot, gives one a taste of that highly-tempting “romance of personal liberty” Al Alvarez writes about in The Biggest Game in Town. Alvarez, of course, is speaking of those high stakes players whose entire lives are examples of being able to “survive spectacularly well outside the system.” But even the low limit punter gets to understand -- in relative terms -- the momentary joy of feeling as though one has duped the universe (for once) into letting him or her have the best of it.

Speaking of making something from nothing, I have finally decided what I am going to do with that windfall of tournament dollars I talked about winning several posts back. Having won one of those PokerStars FPP satellites to the Sunday Million (36 players, 375 FPP to play, Turbo NLH), I found myself with 215 “T$” and what I considered three options: sell the T$ for cash, take a shot at the Sunday Million, or use the funds to play smaller buy-in tourneys.

I much appreciated the feedback I received when discussing my options here a couple of weeks ago. I also posted the dilemma as a poll question over on the Card Clubs Network Forums and got some genuinely thoughtful responses there as well (for which I was grateful). In the end, I decided on the latter option -- to use the winnings to fund entries into smaller buy-in tourneys.

I seriously considered trying the big one, then realized I simply wasn’t prepared to do so. Looking over my last couple of months of play, I noticed I’m playing tourneys (MTTs & SNGs) less than once per week. Seemed reasonable to wait until I had a bit more tourney experience under my belt so as to increase my chances should I ever decide to play the Sunday Million.

I also came close simply to selling my funds to Pocket Fives. (I even put in the request, but cancelled it an hour later.) Finally I decided I liked the idea of being able to “freeroll” my way through some tourneys as a way to gain experience (and perhaps some extra cabbage, too). Have been eyeing those $25K guarantees that run every night (the $5.00+rebuy tourneys) that seem to offer a decent prize pool for the investment. Anyone have any other favorite tourneys they play (in the $5-$20 range)?

So here I am again . . . in early postion, with a fairly decent holding. Might win, might lose. Getting something from nothing, either way . . . .


Saturday, November 25, 2006

Poker Review: Casino Royale

'Casino Royale' (dir. Martin Campbell, 2006)Got a call yesterday from Vera Valmore (introduced a few posts back) who wanted to see Casino Royale. Neither of us is such a big James Bond fan, though I suspect Vera might have been at least somewhat intrigued by all of those images of a shirtless and brooding Daniel Craig wading off the coast of the Bahamas. And I knew there was supposed to be some poker in there somewhere. So we went.

About forty years ago, Casino Royale was filmed as a one-off, messily-constructed, occasionally-funny spoof starring David Niven, Peter Sellers, and a young Woody Allen. The new version takes the same Ian Fleming novel as source material, reformulating it as a new story set in the present. As the first novel in Fleming’s series (published in 1953), Casino Royale introduces the character of Bond, telling how he first became a double-0 agent and relating his first adventure. Fleming's story has Bond tangling with a character named Le Chiffre (literally, “the number”), an agent for a Russian intelligence agency called SMERSH. Guilty of having lost SMERSH funds through a failed private venture (to start a chain of brothels), Le Chiffre must try to win back the money in a high-stakes baccarat game to take place at the Casino Royale in France. (Yeah, sure.) Enter Bond, an expert player, to compete against Le Chiffre in an effort to spoil the villain’s plan to avoid being killed for his transgression.

The new film updates the story by linking Le Chiffre to an unnamed terrorist organization operating in the summer of 2006. Here he’s managed to squander over $100 million of the terrorists’ money in a failed investment scheme. (Indeed, Bond’s own heroic thwarting of an act of terrorism causes Le Chiffre’s investment to fail.) Characterized as a “mathematical genius” and expert poker player, Le Chiffre identifies a high-stakes hold ’em game in Montenegro as the place to recup his losses. (Yeah, sure.) Incidentally, the actor who plays Le Chiffre, a Dane named Mads Mikkelsen, does have a vaguely Hellmuthian purse of the lips about him. And, of course, Bond -- “the best poker player in the Service” -- will be there as well.

I’m not as versed in Bond trivia as are the fanatics, but I have seen a few of the earlier entries starring Connery and Moore. (I must admit I never bothered to catch any of the later Dalton or Brosnan flicks.) This new Casino Royale was certainly more violent than the earlier films, something Ms. Valmore did not appreciate very much. The chase scenes (there had to have been four or five lengthy ones) went well with the medium-sized popcorn I was munching on as I watched, though as I think about it today both are probably equally memorable. The new film also seemed much less witty than the earlier films. Clearly the filmmakers’ placed a premium here on action, not dialogue. Not so much of Bond’s usual verbal sparring with villainous types here, nor even that many double entendres with the ladies. No, it appears those at the helm decided early on always to “cut to the chase” whenever possible.

Perhaps as a result of this emphasis on action, the filmmakers’ handling of the poker-playing sequences betrays an obvious impatience. There are a couple of very brief scenes involving poker that appear early in the film -- one each for Le Chiffre and Bond, establishing both as successful players. The big game at Montenegro (why Montenegro?) does take up a large portion of the film’s middle section, although even there it seems whenever play gets going the film can’t wait to get away from the table. Indeed, the game is interrupted not once but twice with lengthy (and brutal) action sequences. The first has Bond killing two terrorists during a scheduled break; the second involves an assassination attempt on the hero himself (needless to say, he survives).

The hands dramatized during this scene all include the (expected) unlikely showdowns between full houses and/or quads and/or straight flushes. Just like on the teevee, every hand shown culminates with an all-in. I suppose I could complain about these things, but to do so seems like it would miss the point. Rather, the relative lack of table talk during these sequences was -- for me -- the bigger letdown here. These guys say practically nothing at the table; it's as if the scriptwriters don’t have a clue about what poker players say to each other while playing. The filmmakers really missed an opportunity during the poker scenes (1) to build suspense and (2) to invigorate the script. Can’t believe I’m saying it, but even ESPN’s wayward Tilt series did a much better job using poker to build tension and interest in its otherwise silly plot.

(One other gripe . . . where’s the casino? We only really see the private room where the big game takes place -- it could well be in any randomly-chosen five-star European hotel. Why pass up the chance to offer more sensory-stimulating delights, especially in this kind of picture?)

A lot of folks are fawning over this here “rebooting” of the Bond franchise. Michael Phillips, James Berardinelli, Peter Travers . . . they’re all sayin’ 3½ out of 4 stars. Perhaps they’re all comparing this film to the more recent entries -- and/or to faded memories of the older ones. Personally -- and not just for poker-related reasons -- I didn’t think it was all that.

Ian Fleming's 'Casino Royale' (1953)Vera wasn’t too keen on the film, either. She’d probably hate the novel even more, as the film does tend to tone down the rampant misogyny one finds there. Now that I think about it, Fleming’s novel shares a lot of similarities with lower-tier hard-boiled fiction. The hero and plot particularly remind me of Mickey Spillane’s Mike Hammer stories. Aside from the international setting, Casino Royale bears many similarities to Spillane’s debut, I, the Jury (first published in 1947). Both feature hypermasculine heroes as protagonists. Both go way overboard with the graphic depiction of violence. Both have the hero fall head over heels for a woman who turns out to have double-crossed him (proving, of course, that women are evil). And both conclude with the hero confirming his “alpha-male”-status with hand-waving dismissals that the deaths of their respective femme fatales have any significance. When asked about killing his fiancée, Mike Hammer coolly replies “It was easy.” When the subject of his lover is brought up to Bond, he simply notes (in a line that does appear in the film) “The bitch is dead.”

The Cincinnati Kid it ain’t, then. (I plan to write something here about the 1965 Norman Jewison film -- the best poker movie I have ever seen -- in the not-too-distant future. Perhaps I’ll start collecting a few more of these “poker reviews” to post . . . .) All told, Casino Royale is a slightly more entertaining linkage of poker and terrorism than that put forth by certain members of Congress over the last few months. But that’s about all the film has going for it, I’m afraid. (Aside from that hunky Daniel Craig, or so some tell me . . . )

Images: Casino Royale (film, 2006); Casino Royale (novel, 1953), Ian Fleming; Amazon.

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Thursday, November 23, 2006

First Impressions; or, A Tale Told By an Idiot

A happy holiday to all. Among other things, I remain thankful that I’m still playing poker online. There was a day or two back there -- back at the beginning of October -- when I genuinely believed it was all over. Still kickin’, though, and so yesterday sat down for some o’ the usual 6-max $0.50/$1.00 limit.

Went over to Absolute Poker, where I’ve done well since accepting that $50 startup roll from PokerSourceOnline a month ago. Have already been able to cash some from there. Additionally, I’ve nearly finished clearing the $50 sign-up bonus as well (just one more $10 increment to go there), so all in all I have to say playing on the site has been rewarding.

I took my seat and waited for the blind to come around. I didn’t recognize any of the other five players -- not unusual, as there are probably only a dozen or so with whom I’ve played over there multiple times. First hand comes and I’m dealt 9s3s in the BB. Two players limp, the SB completes, and I check. The flop comes 8d8s4s and all four of us check. The turn is the Ts, giving me the flush, so I bet. Two of the remaining players call. The river I don’t like at all -- the 4c. Stubbornly I bet out, heedless of the likely possibility there’s a boat sailing around the table somewhere. One player raises and the other calls, so I have to call it down. Indeed, I’m beaten by the player who had chosen to limp in with TcTd. (The other caller had the case ten for a crummy pair.)

I lose $3.50 on the hand -- probably could’ve lost more, especially considering I was out of position. Then comes hand no. 2, and in the SB I’m dealt two more spades -- 5s4s. This time the entire table limps in -- the perfect scenario, really, for my suited connectors -- so I complete and all six of us watch the flop come down: 3hAs5c.

I am guilty at times of being overly anxious to fight for pots when first starting a session. Sometimes such willingness to gamble early works out, and I find myself up a bit without even having to showdown a hand. Other times I get knocked down a peg or three, and thus I’m working uphill from the get-go. A lot of times these first few hands seem to dictate fairly accurately how a session will go, actually. If I’m up a few bucks after the first round or two, I generally will walk away with more. If I’m down early, I sometimes get it back but often I’ll stay down until I decide to move on to greener pastures.

The phenomenon is affected, I believe, by the power of first impressions. If you sit down and donk off several big bets in a hurry, others (if they’re paying attention, which at these limits isn’t always the case) smell blood and start coming after you. If you have your wits about you -- and a bit of poker savvy -- you can take advantage when others appear to be underestimating your play. Of course, the cards usually have to cooperate as well (particularly in limit).

Anyhow, back to the hand. I’ve flopped middle pair (no kicker), an inside straight draw, and a backdoor flusher. And I’ve got five players to act behind me. Sometimes given this set of circumstances I’ll get wild and create some action, especially if I’m just sitting down at a table like this. But here I decided to be cautious and just checked. I’d probably be staying in the hand, barring multiple reraises. The next two players also checked, then NoBidder bet. The cutoff folded and the button called.

I called, of course. There was $4.00 in the pot, so I’m getting a healthy 8-to-1 to call. And I’m reasonably sure I have 6 solid outs (4 twos and 2 fives), which even if I’m only sticking around for the turn is around 7-to-1 to hit.

The turn was the 5h, giving me trips. I checked, NoBidder bet, the button called, and I check-raised. “I love getting turned,” typed an unhappy NoBidder in the chat box as he folded. (Probably had an ace -- or maybe a draw -- I thought; smart fold.) The button called. The river was the Tc, I bet another dollar, and the button called again. My trips were good, as he mucked his (very) modest 2d3d. The total pot was $10.95, with my profit being $6.95.

“Way to go betting mid pair,” NoBidder quickly typed. I paused a beat, then responded with a sarcastic “ty.” “That’s why u r an idiot,” he fired back.

Talk about first impressions. Two whole hands and at least one player has conclusively determined my status as a mental midget. Got me! Been living a lie all these years, desperately trying to conceal my handicap to all those with whom I am forced to interact on a daily basis. A nightmare, really. Imagine living every waking moment paralyzed by the agonizing fear such a truth about yourself might be suddenly, unexpectedly revealed to all. Kind of like trying to play limit poker without ever once showing down a hand.

Took me about three seconds to compose my response: “(yawn)”

NoBidder and I tangled again a couple of times over the next few rounds -- no titanic battles, though. My first impression of him -- as a whiner without much appreciation for pot odds -- turned out to be only partially correct. I ultimately decided NoBidder did have a decent idea how to play his own hands, although he repeatedly demonstrated an unthinking predilection to censure how others played theirs. Turning his attention away from me, he soon jumped on two others at our table (one of whom gamely fought back in a tediously-long chatbox clash) before he finally left.

Been a while since I’ve been called an idiot at the tables. (Not that I haven’t deserved it, mind you.) For some perverse reason, I felt compelled to document the occasion. Reminded me of the first time I ever received such a dressing-down, way way back at the penny tables playing Pot Limit Omaha. I’d somewhat recklessly chased down a flush to beat my opponent’s straight -- taking down a whopping two bucks or so -- and was truly surprised when my chips I’d won were accompanied by a wild torrent of abuse from across the table. As a relatively new player -- and brand new to the real money tables -- I felt terrible, like I’d genuinely breached some sort of poker etiquette (unknown to me) by the way I’d played the hand. Got over it, of course. (Though I wonder if all those hit by such random verbal shrapnel do.)

I realized soon enough that such moaning -- though it happens frequently enough -- ain’t necessarily typical. Nor all that meaningful, really. Kind of a rite of passage to learn to endure such heat, I guess. Not unlike something Amy Calistri brought up recently (referring to getting flamed on poker forums) in a post on her excellent blog, Aimlessly Chasing Amy. (If you haven't read her blog, check it out.)

Glad my first response to what the UIGEA’s passage meant was inaccurate as well . . . . Truth be told, first impressions have the ability to make idiots of us all.


Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Reading Iggy Is Fundamental

Reading Iggy Is FundamentalSome days you can do no wrong. You hold quads and your opponent keeps reraising you. For example, on Sunday, I played a total of 45 minutes and scooped a nifty $33.90 ($0.50/$1.00, 6-max). Every draw seemed to hit. Top pair always held up. Big hands were invariably paid off. Even trash hands checked in the blinds seemed consistently to connect with the board in profitable ways.

Other days you can do no right. You flop a set while your opponent flops the nut straight. For example, yesterday I played about three hours total and dropped $20.15. Lost with KK when 93-offsuit made two pair on the turn. Lost with AA when T7-off filled his inside straight on the river. Every draw seemed to miss. Top pair never held up. Big hands were regularly met with table folds. And so forth.

Yesterday’s slide was softened somewhat by the news that our friend Iggy has been reborn over at PokerWorks, a site that collects about a half-dozen poker blogs, including ones by Michael Craig (author of The Professor, the Banker, and the Suicide King), Linda Geenen (a professional dealer at the Bellagio), and professional player Tony Guoga (“Tony G”). Iggy’s “Guinness and Poker” will continue to operate, although it appears that the serious uberpostin’ will now primarily occur at his new location, IGGY at PokerWorks. His debut post for the new site is already up, so go check it out.

Iggy played this one craftily, of course. Whereas most of us thought he was tossing his cards in the muck, he was in fact slowrolling. Still, all of those praises appearing in those many prematurely-composed eulogies over the last week-and-a-half were well-deserved. (Go back to G & P to find links to several of them, including Up For Poker’s hilarious video tribute to Ignatious -- worthy of Errol Morris.)

Iggy’s “commonplace book” style of blogging -- he mostly compiles and presents what others have written and said about poker (rather than solely document his own experiences) -- not only benefits those of us looking to learn more about the game (and/or how other folks view and interpret their existence on this mostly absurd globule), but readily provides all sorts of opportunities to connect with like-minded others. Like a lot of online players, I have no “home game” at present and so greatly appreciate being able to participate in various communities via this here interweb thingy. Iggy’s uberposts facilitate that sort of exchange of ideas -- as do others’ blogs, the forums, the podcasts, and the like.

Think I’ll stop writing for now and go read a bit. That’s the other thing Iggy’s blog has done -- encouraged us all to shut down our own little presses and read once in a while. Sure it can be enjoyable, constructive, even energizing to write about one’s own ups and downs. But it also helps to hush up now and then and listen for a change.

Image: RIF logo (adapted).


Thursday, November 02, 2006


This week marks six months’ worth of “Hard-Boiled Poker.” This also happens to be my one hundredth post, which seems something worth observing. At three months I took an “An Existential Pause” to reflect on what the hell I thought I might be up to here. Thought I’d try something similar today. Don’t know how far I’ll get. But for some reason I’m willing to make the attempt.

In his last Idler essay (published in 1760), Samuel Johnson wrote about how humans are compelled to recognize milestones, to make mental notes that we’ve concluded a certain “stage” in our lives and are moving on to something new. He also points out how each time we reach the end of this or that phase in our existence, our thoughts invariably drift over to the big End with a capital “E” (what Raymond Chandler/Philip Marlowe wistfully refer to as “the big sleep”). As Johnson explains, “Succession is not perceived but by variation; he that lives today as he lived yesterday, and expects that, as the present day is, such will be the morrow, easily conceives time as running in a circle and returning to itself. The uncertainty of our duration is impressed commonly by dissimilitude of condition; it is only by finding life changeable that we are reminded of its shortness.”

Milestones force a kind of instant sobriety upon those who notice them. Happens at the poker table all the time. To me, anyway. I know, I know . . . too much fretting over how much one is up or down at any given moment in a particular session is negative EV. But I can’t help it. (And I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one constantly marking how far up or down he or she is.) To be honest, I just about always know -- to the nickel -- precisely how much I’m ahead or stuck. Therefore I am usually keenly aware of the various benchmarks (upwards and downwards) I am passing through as I play.

I usually don’t go very long without reminding myself of the big picture, either. I’ve written about record-keeping before . . . I’m a bit maniacal about it, to be honest. Speaking of milestones, according to my little poker diary I’m just about a week away from the two-year anniversary of having made my first cash deposit into an online poker site. I also happen to be hovering around one of those satisfyingly-round numbers in terms of career winnings this week. I look forward to reaching that number . . . and moving comfortably past it. But I know that once I do that brief moment of exhilaration will be quickly replaced by that old familiar languor -- that sense of idling that inspired the name of Johnson’s essayist.

So the money is good. As is the competition, the thrill of risk, the intellectual stimulation, and even the simple pleasure of engaging with the world in a not unmeaningful way. That’s poker (as they say).

That’s also the poker blog, I suppose. Has to be. Like record-keeping, the blog helps document certain stages in the life of a poker player. At times the blog even helps foster the sense that he might actually be getting somewhere and not simply “running in a circle.” Or endlessly pushing that stone up the mountain like Sisyphus, only to have it roll back down again. Albert Camus describes Sisyphus as one who has, despite evidence to the contrary, somehow managed to create meaning from his plight. Rather than believe the godless world is “sterile or futile,” he knows that “each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night-filled mountain, in itself forms a world.”

Camus goes so far as to conclude we “must imagine Sisyphus as happy.” I think he’s right. As grave as such milestones might make us feel, they also go a long way toward helping us with the old problem of “meaning-making.” And that makes us happy for a while. And encourages us to keep going.

And so I will.

Image: Milestones (1958), Miles Davis.


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