Daniel "Jungleman" Cates hat nach den Anschuldigungen von Dan Bilzerian nun anwaltlichen Rat gesucht und entschuldigt sich in einer. Jungle Man Eau de Parfum Jungle Man Eau de Parfum – die Freiheit zum Abenteuer Der seit über 25 Jahren konstant erfolgreiche LR Duft begeistert durch. Details LR Jungle Man Eau de Parfum – Der Ikonenduft aus dem Hause LR. Die Stunde seiner Erschaffung schreibt bis heute Geschichte. Ein Duft, der sich.
LR Jungle Man Eau de ParfumJungle Man Eau de Parfum Jungle Man Eau de Parfum – die Freiheit zum Abenteuer Der seit über 25 Jahren konstant erfolgreiche LR Duft begeistert durch. Details LR Jungle Man Eau de Parfum – Der Ikonenduft aus dem Hause LR. Die Stunde seiner Erschaffung schreibt bis heute Geschichte. Ein Duft, der sich. Daniel "Jungleman" Cates hat nach den Anschuldigungen von Dan Bilzerian nun anwaltlichen Rat gesucht und entschuldigt sich in einer.
Jungleman Categories VideoJungleman An expedition sets out to darkest Africa to find the fabled City of the Dead, and must battle thick jungle, hostile natives, wild animals and a deadly epidemic. Plot Summary | Add Synopsis. Daniel Cates, also known as jungleman 12 or w00ki3z, is an American poker professional who was once considered to be one of the absolute best heads-up No-Limit Hold’Em players in the world. Born and raised in Bowie, Maryland, Cates started playing poker at age 15 with some high school friends during lunch where they used torn up paper as chips. Another year has passed with no real activity in the high-stakes challenge between Dan “Jungleman” Cates and Tom “durrrr” Dwan. Dwan has incurred hundreds of thousands of dollars in penalties, of which he's paid none, and according to Jungleman if things don't change soon he'll be forced to reveal aspects of Tom's personal situation he'd prefer to keep private. k Followers, Following, 53 Posts - See Instagram photos and videos from Daniel Cates (@junglemandanpoker). Renowned poker pro “Jungleman” Daniel Cates ’fessed up to an online cheating scandal that surfaced over the weekend, one which multimillionaire Bill Perkins claimed on Twitter would “make the Mike.
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Worth a look. Cates is, understandably, irked, as Doug Polk recaps the action. There is consensus that Jungleman Daniel Cates is an adept, talented, and successful player.
He apologized for Perkins getting caught in the crossfire of multiple pros ghosting recreational players. In his statement, Cates wrote that he holds himself to a high standard of ethics, but says he sometimes makes mistakes and apologized for his actions.
Although Cates admitted to deceiving his opponents, he denied one accusation. Social media icon Dan Bilzerian claimed on Twitter that he and Perkins both played in the same games against Taleb, who was being ghosted by Cates.
In March , they briefly feuded on Twitter. How Bilzerian obtained his wealth has long been a hot topic of discussion. He claims much of it came from crushing private games against celebrities and wealthy business people.
Cates will eventually face Phil Galfond in a future Galfond Challenge. No date has been set, but the two online poker legends recently played a mini Galfond Challenge , with Galfond winning.
Daniel Cates born November 14,  also known as jungleman12 or w00ki3z. Cates was born and raised in Bowie , Maryland, and began playing poker at the age of He has said that at first he was a big loser and even took a job at McDonald's in order to refuel his bankroll.
He spent much of his time playing Command and Conquer and had an uncontrollable obsession with video games.
As of April , the two had played 19, hands, and Cates was up over a million dollars. From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.
I said before that I did not want to complain and I am trying desperately to keep that commitment. However, I have also hoped with this blog to give my readers an accurate sense of my experience and thinking, and that requires me to present this brief list of some of the things other than the obvious — the crushing workouts that make life here tough for me:.
Ok — so the easy blog entry is done. My next blog entry will be about the spiritual and intellectual significance of what I am doing.
Those of you who know me well will know that I hate sports and could never be bothered to participate in a sport. What I am doing here is not sport.
It is a fortification and a purification of the mind. And it is an act of penitence. Tune in and slog with me through the febrile machinations of a mind that works too much housed in a body that has, for so very long, worked too little.
Apocalypse Now is one of my all-time favorite movies. The script is so well-written and there are so many legendary performances.
It smells like…. My trip from Hong Kong to Sihanoukville was utterly uneventful and would have been easy even for a complete rookie traveler. My flight from Hong Kong was delayed by an hour and a half because of the rain about which, MUCH more comment to come.
It is the monsoon season. I struggle with adjectives about the rain — torrential, tremendous, pounding. I will start checking the thesaurus.
I stayed at the very last surviving Vietnam-era hotel in central Bangkok, the Miami Hotel established in — man, what good timing for the proprietors!
No one at the time they built the place could have imagined the great escalation of the war that was to come, bringing so many bookings!
This place has seen it all. While I was checking in, a young, hip-looking Japanese guy rushed in and asked the lady at the front desk if they offer hourly rates.
He had such a sense of urgency about him! They do evidently offer hourly rates but sadly for the amorous Japanese man, they were full up at the time.
Staying at the Miami Hotel, it is easy to imagine yourself like this click here for the video :. Tony Po was very talented at quickly recruiting, organizing and training anti-Communist local people in the jungle into an effective fighting force.
He has taken me to all of them and the weird thing is — they are like time capsules. Absolutely nothing seems to have changed since in these places.
Even some of the staff have probably been there since the war. Westmoreland ordered it done in — so the beer tastes vaguely of cabbage and rotten eggs.
Because Tony Po and all the other bad-asses went there! Many of them never went home after the war and have kept afloat all these years on a pension or disability check from the US Government.
One wonders if those important people have ever sat in a place like the Madrid or a VFW anywhere in the heartland to see the ancient anguish on their old drunken faces as they miserably suck on a cigarette and just stare.
It is a terrible thing to go to war. We Americans seem to have forgotten just how terrible it is to take 18 year old idiots and we are all idiots at that age and send them to a place where they will be broken in a way that they can never be made right again.
How I do love to talk! I dreamed as a young man to be able to talk one day about war and poverty. But my life has not turned out that way.
I mumble to myself but to little effect. If a man talks long enough and if he keeps on talking without allowing himself to become disagreeable or discouraged , he can persuade just about anyone of just about anything.
I believe this with all my heart. What an amazing feeling it must be to talk a nation out of a war. I should have liked so much to know what that feels like.
The rain brings the rot and the rot returns everything to mud so very quickly. Everything past is forgotten and the sweet dreams of the future so often come to nothing.
The only real thing is right now. Vingt reps. Minute et demi du repos entre les sets. Alors — vite — allez!
The bus driver was sitting around early waiting to leave as well and since I was the first passenger to arrive at the bay, we sat there together in amicable silence, occasionally slapping one another on the shoulder affectionately.
I love Thai people. When they are not actively exasperating me beyond all reason, their presence and kindness calms me down more than any other race of people on the planet.
There is so much I have hoped to learn from Thai people about elegant manners, and yet I continue to flail through life like a spastic rhinoceros, spreading anxiety, annoyance, fatigue and awkwardness everywhere I trample.
Because of the great virtue of my early start to me, getting up at absolutely reeks of virtue , I had plenty of time for the disorderly border crossing at Hat Lek in the middle of a torrential rain.
By the time I fronted up to the Immigration counter, I was soaked to the bone so when I handed my entry form to the border control agent, it was soaking wet and completely unreadable.
No problem! Just put it on the pile, stamp my passport and off with me. This kind of Asian Formalism always amuses me. We Westerners view the objective of a specified bureaucratic transaction as the effectuation of a definite result in the real world — like the collection of certain necessary information, or a security check, or the checking of identity.
So often in Asia, these bureaucratic procedures serve an almost purely ceremonial function. As long as Rama addresses Sita with the right posture and arm movements, then the action is perfected — who really knows or cares what he actually said or what she thought about it.
I have passed through so many Thai security checks where the guard makes a ritualistic gesture of shining his flashlight in my bag for 3 seconds and then waves me on.
The place I am entering is prestigious because they have uniformed guards with white gloves who perform security checks.
From the border I hired a truck and made it to Koh Kong in a little over an hour. I feel a little ashamed of the description I gave of the town in a previous posting, which was based on accounts I read online.
From what I saw of Koh Kong, it is a perfectly normal down-at-the heels Cambodian town with very normal people just struggling to make a living.
The town is so sleepy that I was barely able to find a meal, in fact. The Apex Hotel is really quite nice if you find yourself in a town like this for the night.
Since my hotel restaurant was not slinging hash that night, I had to go out on the town foraging. I staggered in, soaked, to find three old, drunk, chain-smoking Britons sitting around what was, 30 years ago, probably quite a lovely handmade rattan table with matching chairs.
It was the only furniture in the room. Until somebody dies. They all stopped talking, cigarettes hovering motionless above ashtrays, peering into my sodden face hoping perhaps to coax any news of the world from the interloper.
But they said not a word. Old, drunk, smoky Yorkshire in the middle of nowhere Cambodia. Freaking hilarious. I laughed out loud. All the old men just stared, not sure at all what to make of the laughing American fool.
Could you do that? And beer. I chose… the pizza! And it was damn good if you can possibly believe it. I sat there with those old men for three hours.
Two of them were easily won over but the third was the surly, silent type one finds a lot of old broken expats in Asian bars who would rather be left alone.
And you should generally leave them alone! But since I was sitting at the very same table with the guy, I made it my mission to open him up.
The one thing the guy cares about in life — the ONE thing — is smoking cigarettes. Unfortunately, I am a man who knows a fair bit about smoking cigarettes.
The last guy was the funniest of the three. Funny in a desperately sad way. But then again, he was probably wrecked on vodka when he wrote that and surely figured that mentioning alcohol was needlessly obvious.
Approaching 80 and one of those guys who can be absolutely obliterated drunk but still keep himself more or less perfectly composed, he spoke the most beautiful Received Pronunciation.
He was evidently on a very modest pension and told me quite frankly that he chose to live in Koh Kong because it was, as nearly as he could figure, the very cheapest place in the world to live.
One wonders how he might have gone from Eton or Harrow, thence to Oxford or Cambridge and after that — what kind of extraordinarily poor choices or bad luck left this poor man shakily knocking the ash off his off-brand Cambodian cigarette into a crappy plastic ashtray in a Koh Kong warehouse during the monsoon?
Some advice, dear reader, never ask a question like that. I used to when I was younger. Come to think of it, one might ask the same sort of question of me, although my diction is not nearly so elegant.
The three British gents actually seemed sorry to see me go three or four beers later as I launched myself back out into the brown waters.
I awoke early the next morning after a reasonably pleasant sleep, caught a tuk-tuk to the bus station and left by for Sihanoukville.
The Cambodian tuk-tuks are different from the Thai ones, mainly in that they have plastic covers all around to protect the passengers from the rain:.
Tune in next time when we will meet Pierre, the remorseless Frenchman who runs the Fitness Resort, Sihanoukville.
The romance of train travel has always appealed to me. Everything about train travel is exciting. I like train stations. I like the way such a big, long trip starts out so slowly and uneventfully unlike screaming down a runway.
I like the emotional confusion of starting a big train trip — waving sadly from the train window at someone left behind on the platform and then turning excited thoughts to the adventure ahead as the friend fades into the distance.
I sleep better on a train than anywhere else on earth. This adventure and this blog are underwritten by the aesthetic geniuses at Asia Gem Connection , a Bangkok-based custom jeweler — purveyors of the highest quality precious stones, straight from the cutter, set in hand-made settings according to your preferences.
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We did take a train from Melbourne to Sydney a few years ago — and I enjoyed it a lot — but it was totally bland and civilized.
One of my favorite memories in all my life is standing at 2am in the open doorway between two carriages, smoking a cigarette and staring out as the jungle hurtles by.