Thom Forbes

How many times have we heard Art proclaim, "Desperate times call for desperate measures"?

Usually, that means that we are doomed to a game of Black and Red or something equally "tedious," as Prof. Pete would have it. But, on a scale of Armageddon (1) to losing a game to the BoSox (10), let's face it, even the worst of Art's games are only about a 7 — in the realm of one of Dr. Foxman's fabled root canals.

Well, this time Art really outdid himself. 

First, he concocted a ruse about attending a play at Boscobel with his family. "Much Ado About Oid," I think he said it was. 

Then he spent all day Wednesday donning theatrical makeup and practicing his barbs, canards and tall tales of casino triumphs. He looked up phrases like "the river" (which he initially confused with "up the river") and "the nuts," which he initially confused with ... well, let your lack of imagination be your guide.

Finally,  he donned a polo shirt and jeans, slipped into some high-heeled boots, and lightly trimmed his temples. By the time he arrived at Jason's, the transformation was complete. Art was Carl.

I don't know how many of you he managed to fool, but I knew it was Art from the very first deal (above). The real Carl after all, would NEVER, as Johnny X used to say, "show skirt."

And did you notice how many times "Carl" petulantly folded on the deal? 

And how much he didn't win, but didn't really lose?

I have every reason to believe that Art will lose his ruse and be out of costume at Mike B's tomorrow night.