Triplets take a break. The Just for Laughs 2010 Twins Parade on Saturday was twice the fun of a standard parade. (Is that enough of hack opening for you?) This is what I learned when I ventured to JFL’s TP for my friends at Asylum.

Held in Montreal, the event is comprised of more than 500 twins from such far-reaching locales as Australia, Nigeria, and America. (Though most of the pairs were from Quebec.) Residents were doing double-takes (more twin puns to come) as their French-Canadian streets filled with those who sprang from a single zygote that split and formed two embryos.

The theme for this year’s parade (the 13th annual celebration) was “Ballroom.” Each pair sported caricatures of themselves as they paraded down St. Catherine’s Street delighting the crowd of thousands by showing off their rare trait: a sibling doppelganger.

Here’s a joke. What’s the most popular fruit for Montreal’s Twins Parade? Answer: pairs. (I’m the wittiest man on earth!)

The sight of twins, after twins, after twins, after more twins, was as surreal as a Fellini film on pairs of mushrooms. In general, twins makes people happy in the same manner as an army of Santas bearing down and sporting gifts.

For the moment, all we wanted to do is permanently live in a world comprised of twins walking the streets. It makes people feel envious and slightly lonely that they too don’t have a twin.

The oldest pair of twins was over 100 years old — each! That’s a crazy 200 twin years combined.

Here’s a fun thing you could do after the Twins Parade. Run frantically into a bar and scream “Has anyone seen my twin? I’ve lost my twin!!” Then leave. A few minutes later return with a slightly different hairstyle and ask the room, “Was someone just in here looking for me?”

See the rest of my Twins Parade photos at Asylum.com>/strong>

There’s a strange health tug-of-war going on. Doctors are now telling us to get back into the sun for better health since a large majority of Americans are being deprived of natural vitamin D and other benefits associated with sunshine. Meanwhile, the cosmetic dermatology industry seems to be turning up the heat on their “stay out of the sun, wear sunscreen 24/7″ message.

Who’s a person to believe?

With balance and common sense seeming pretty obvious, it calls the question: What’s really behind the ’sunshine is killing us’ message that’s pouring out of dermatologists’ mouths, via the media, these days?

With the summer months upon us I wanted to find out firsthand what exactly the mantra is that dermatologists are telling patients. So I went undercover to several San Francisco dermatologists in order to see if there is legitimate concern about the sun-scare media hype. Are these doctors being sensible or going overboard when it comes to advice on sunscreen use and skin cancer prevention? Is the sky falling with dangerous UV rays or are we being induced into a media panic?

Let’s journey on into the heart of mole darkness and find out.

Dermatologist Appointment #1: Marina District

My first dermatology stop is in the posh San Francisco neighborhood near Union Street. With nothing to read but Botox literature, I’m made to wait in the pristine reception area for a good hour. This place feels more like a cosmetic spa than a doctor’s office. With all these pamphlets on wrinkle elimination, the dermatologists’ message seems to be centered on beauty rather than health issues. My excuse for wanting an appointment is to get my moles checked out. The message dermatologists constantly trumpet is that moles should be frequently checked for malignant melanoma. Except these are ordinary moles I’ve had my entire life.

Finally my name is called.

I’m then made to wait another 20 minutes in the examination room. The dermatologist finally comes in. I take off my shirt and point to my moles. She immediately determines that they don’t look cancerous. I press her by saying the mole under my arm is of concern because it rubs against my clothes. She takes a closer look:

(Listen to the appointment here.)

DERM: Now as far as this mole right here.

ME: Yeah, how about getting that chopped off?

(The dermatologist then explains the protocol.)

DERM: Because of the insurance we need to get approval. Because, we don’t want you to get a bill we want your insurance to pay for what they need to pay for. So that’s why we have to ask their permission. It usually takes a week to get their permission. Then we’ll ask you to come back here.

(She looks harder at my moles and concocts a plan.)

DERM: This one, I’ll remove for you because you said it’s become irritated. If you want to get things removed for cosmetic reasons I don’t know if your insurance will balk at that. I think if we remove a couple of other spots because it’s irritated, you’re maybe worried about it, and I want to make sure its not skin cancer, they will pay for that. But I’ve had patients come in and remove seven moles at once, and they were all for cosmetic reasons, and the insurance said we’re not paying for any of that and she got a huge bill.

DERM: I think if we took off a couple of moles they wont say anything like that.

ME: So just a couple of moles?

DERM: Yeah. I think if we do a couple of moles I don’t think they’ll balk at that. So which moles do you want done? (She looks again at my non-skin-cancerous moles.)

The one here I’m going to say gets irritated sometimes on clothes. And when it gets irritated does it get itchy? You just kind of recognize that its there. I’ll just say it’s more sensitive. How about that?”

ME: If you can get my insurance to cover it that would be great.

DERM: So right here I’ll say that’s an irritated mole–the one on the front.

ME: I guess that’s irritating too.

DERM: I’ll say: rubs on backpack. So sensitive or itchy?”

ME: Let’s just go with itchy.

DERM: If it’s an irritant mole they will cover it.

Bingo! We go with irritant. Besides being advised that I should never go into the sun without wearing a visor, sunglasses, long sleeves and sunscreen (which needs to be reapplied obsessively every few hours), I can get my non-cancerous moles removed because they are an irritant. (A week later I find out that my insurance approved the removal of these two non-cancerous moles–I’m added to the reported melanoma statistics.)

It happens more often than you might think. A quick Google search shows that in the past years several dermatologists have been sent to prison for flat-out lying about skin cancer to their patients; slicing up healthy skin for insurance dollars. Do these cases show there’s money to be made in cutting off skin lesions and calling them cancer? Is this a factor why skin cancer numbers might seem overinflated? Do the numbers add up when you start digging?

A May 2010 study in the Journal of the National Cancer Institute listed melanoma as one of five cancers over-diagnosed by doctors. Though doctors are removing more and more skin lesions, researchers pointed out that melanoma mortality rates haven’t increased since 1975–with insurance companies paying for the procedures.

A 2009 British Journal of Dermatology report also concluded: that melanoma isn’t increasing in actual incidence, but merely in reported incidence. What the report found was doctors were simply reporting and removing more lesions that may not actually be cancerous.

Would this explain why the United States has just 4.5 percent of the world’s population but has 52 percent of the world’s melanomas when you compare the American Cancer Society’s numbers (68,720) with those from the World Health Organization (132,000 worldwide)? In contrast, both melanoma and non-melanoma skin cancer have been declining in Canada. A University of Alberta study this year showed that non-melanoma skin cancer incidence in Canada has been declining for a generation. Riddle me this: how is it possible the U.S. estimates more-than-triple while Canada’s real numbers are actually declining? Has the U.S. dermatology-induced media scare propagated more dermatologist visits in our for-profit health care system or are a larger number of Canadians simply staying inside to watch their beloved championship curling teams?

Regardless, by having just a few cosmetic moles chopped off, my dermatologist was able to fix it so my insurance company would foot the bill.

Read the rest of the story by clicking to the Huffington Post.

I’m going to venture into the Argentina rainforest with only a machete and a Speedo. This is my blessing; this is my curse. I’ll consist entirely on a diet of red ants and dreams. One man will enter (the rainforest) and one man will exit (the rainforest).

Or something like that.

Regardless of the Speedo, its time for a little jungle/waterfall excursion in the region of Iguaza, Located in the northern part of Argentina, along the border with Brazil and Paraguay, my friends at Say Hueque Tours set me good. Like surf and turf, I’m taking one of their most popular eco-travel expeditions. Be forewarned: Parque National Iguazu boasts 275 waterfalls. Let me say that again: 275 waterfalls. That’s practically one waterfall for everyone. (In a group of 275.) My point: there’re enough waterfalls to go around for everyone.

IGUAZU FALLS FACT: The 275 waterfalls traverse along 1.67 miles of the Iguazu River. Some of the individual falls are 269 feet in height. The spectacle of nature wonderment was featured in the film sequel, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. By the way, I hated that movie.

Welcome to the Jungle. Dangling vines. That fresh rainforest smell. 250 species of butterflies. Guys calling me “Chico”. Crazy insects bite my legs. (I hope I don’t turn into a Marvel Comics superhero.) Our tour guide points out blue fruit that the indigenous people used to paint their faces. I’d welcome an unexpected blow dart to the neck. It wouldn’t be surprising (my fingers are crossed) to see a rat the size of a Doberman pincher scurry across the Argentina rainforest. The jungle is inhabited with loads of coatimundis. (Raccoon-like animals that have sort of an anteater’s nose.) Our guide informs: “These creatures bite and are everywhere.” The rainforest is also home to such inhabitants as tapers, sloths, pumas, and jaguars. (They mostly come out at dusk when the park closes.) This is one place where you’d punch someone in the throat if they ever said the words, “Drill, baby drill.” I crave to be greeted by the cast of Avatar? In fact, the rainforest is just like Avatar—and in 3-D as well. Welcome to Pandora!

This is my second expedition into the rainforest on the Say Hueque eco-tour. Yesterday I spent my time repelling down a cliff on the side of a raging river gorge. Excellent! That was preceded by zip-lining along a cable high over the tops of jungle trees—swinging like a mad monkey from a vine. Outstanding! (Zip-lining, by the way, will be the main mode of transportation in 2012.) Later we passed bananas, papayas and shanty structures with makeshift soccer posts in the center. Little kids from villages ran to the road and waved. A true Indiana Jones type of day. (Minus the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.)

Continuing our trek towards Iguazu Falls, we pass thick brush and an old abandoned hotel. Nature is winning the battle. Vines and plants grow up the walls and in between the cracks of the foundation. In the end, nature always wins the battle.

Our guide informs: “In the 1920’s, they used to walk through the jungle with big machetes to get to the falls while the ladies in long dresses would sit on the porches of the hotel and sip tea.”

Skip ahead to 2010. No machetes needed. We simply follow the signs through the rainforest and stay on the designated path in order to make our way to the falls.

“Toilet is the last tree. Shower is free,” says a man on the path moving in the opposite direction. What does this mean? Is he foreshadowing events to come?

And then comes the 275 waterfalls………..

Holy flippin’ crap! I’m a very jaded person but I’m simply blown away! This has got to be one of the most amazing sites I’ve seen outside of the original Star Wars trilogy. There’s waterfalls side-by-side with even more waterfalls. Some waterfalls are within waterfalls. They fall into yet another waterfall. Long waterfalls. Short waterfalls. Wide waterfalls. Skinny waterfalls. It’s purely waterfall mental. One waterfall would be enough to blow my mind, but with 275 waterfalls my head is ready to explode. Dramatic cliffs mix with the lush greens of the jungle rainforest. The reverberating sound of crashing water echoes throughout. A constant spray of light mist. Mix that with rainbows everywhere. Yes, refracting light transposed in the form of rainbows is added to the magical landscape. Unbelievable.

“Birds live in nests behind the falls,” our guide informs. “They float through the waterfalls to their nest and mate in the air—very fast.”

I feel like former first-lady Eleanor Roosevelt. When upon seeing Iguazu Falls, she exclaimed “Poor Niagara.” Indeed—the two aren’t even in the same league of waterfalls spectaculars. The most impressive waterfall is called the Devil’s Throat, or Garganta del Diablo. Marking the border with Brazil, this U-shaped beast has a 269-foot drop and comes crashing down like a cascade of abundant, freshly popped popcorn. Large clouds of mist rise from the scene. This is soooo much better than visiting San Francisco’s biggest tourist attraction: Alcatraz. Turning a corner in the rainforest, there’s yet another fortress of waterfalls with more rainbows hovering over the proceedings. Rainbows over rainbows. Falls over falls.

IGUAZU FALLS FACT: In July 2006 the drought made the falls completely dry. Our guide tells us: “You wouldn’t believe it, but it looked like the Grand Canyon.”

How can one enhance their spectacular Iguazu Falls experience? By taking a boat ride on the River Rio Iguazu that ventures under the fricken’ falls. It’s a must! While most of my fellow tour crew has purchased makeshift plastic raincoats, I decide to rough without water protection. (Will I regret this later by having wet underwear?) The bottom line: when riding a small boat under a cascading waterfall everyone is going to get drenched. Putting on my lifejacket, I notice a sign by the boats that mentions in Spanish: No Personas con Problemas de Columna. (I sure hope that doesn’t apply to me.) With thrill-seekers in place, our motorboat embarks full steam directly towards one of the 275 waterfalls. It’s pretty darn massive. The waterfall sprays the entire crew with the pressure of a really good hotel shower. Oh my god!  I’m laughing uncontrollably like a child. This is better than any Disneyland water ride. Shrieks of laughter. Sprays of water. Whooshing of the falls. Our boat then makes a massive U-turn. And it’s………right back into the waterfall once again. Flippin’ hell! There’s another rainbow. There’s Brazil. There’s me laughing like a little kid. After the journey, I walk around the rest of the afternoon with wet underwear. (Something I haven’t done since that one really wild backyard barbeque back in 2003.)

A perfect end of the day is back at La Aldea De La Selva Lodge. The place is an incredible feat of landscape architecture that mixes first class accommodation with the isolated feeling like you are tucked away in the middle of the jungle. Lush green trees and vegetation engulf the comfortable lodges amongst a tranquil sound of tropical silence. For dinner I opt not to have the delicious local fish wrapped in banana leaves (there will be another day), and instead have the largest, thickest Argentinean steak they have along with a glass of their reddest wine. Then I reflect on the Taj Mahal of waterfalls.

Click here to find out more about the Say Hueque Iguazu Falls tour

While the World Series of Poker (WSOP) heats up in Las Vegas, earlier this month, at the Latin American Poker Tour (LAPT) in Lima Peru, I encountered players who embraced a completely different flair for the game than their North American counterparts.

“The Latin American style is more experimental, more passive and 100% more emotional,” explained Brazilian poker queen Maria Mayrinck. “Latin blood is hot and people–myself included—still have a hard time separating the ‘technical’ aspect from the ‘emotional’ aspect. In time this will change. It’s only because it’s still such a young sport in Latin countries.” Poker is traditionally not a part of Latin culture—it’s a new sport but growing fast. “I’d say the main difference is the North American style of play is much more technical and cold.” Mayrinck reasoned,  “North American players are more used to playing live poker being they’ve done so since they were little, since poker is a part of their culture.”

With blinds raised to $2,000-$4,000, players throw in chips with fiery passion. The LAPT is lively and emotional; full of eccentric characters and much gesturing at tables. After winning a big hand, players occasionally jump out of their chairs and yell things like “Whammo!” Actual cheering erupts from railbirds. Players run over to greet fans. Applause. Passionate screams in Spanish. A group of fans wave a Columbian flag. They chant: “Columbia! Columbia! Columbia!” Hugging. Kissing. High fives.

“Latin American poker is like a soccer match. You celebrate every pot you win, like every goal you score. It’s still new and exciting,” Mayrinck informed. “Latins are very emotional and loud when they are cheering for the fellow countrymen. When there is a Brazilian at a final table, even if it’s someone you’ve never met, you instantly consider him a part of your family and root for him accordingly.”

One disadvantage Spanish speaking players have is that the poker language is primarily in English: online tutorials, research sites, Internet tournaments, etc.

“All the math background that North Americans have, the Latin Americans don’t have really,” said Angel Guillen—the second Mexican in history to ever win a WSOP bracelet. “We’re still in the process to understand that technique of the game. Only the good players have it and not the general players.” Guillen feels the more successful Latin players are those who get a chance to gain experience by playing in the international tournament circuit. “In Latin America you develop a feeling for players—reading body language, knowing when someone is bluffing, knowing when they are holding a good hand,” he said, then  explained about his compatriots’ strengths. “Latin Americans are all warm, kind people. When playing poker at tables you feel how they are changing their temperament—you know when a guy is angry or emotional. You perceive emotion around the table.”

As the blinds increase to $1500-$3,000, the top LAPT players make their way towards the final table. When all in, players stand up in front of their large, colorful fortresses of chips—as if in a sign of respect to the god of chips. “Vamos! Vamos!! Yah! Yah!” Players  jump up and punch their fists in the air when they win.  Much joy. Much emotion. A celebration of life.

So what’s the most emotional thing Angel Guillen has ever done during a tournament? With a sly smile, he said, “I’ve thrown a chair in the air when I won a $10k pot.”

Now that truly isn’t being shy about holding back your emotions when it comes to a major poker victory, taking home one sweet pot, and celebrating life.

There was no excuse needed. It made perfect  sense; Argentina is a meat-lovers paradise. The country  has the world’s highest consumption rate of beef.  The delicious meat offered in Argentina would be enough to make a San Francisco vegetarian’s head literally explode; the country ’s huge delicious steaks particularly melt in your mouth. Yes, don’t cry for meaty Argentina!

Where do you even begin with an Argentinean meat-eating Odyssey? Do you start with Entrana, Falda,  Higado, or Matambre and Mollejas?

Wanting to become a meat-eating connoisseur, I took the Say Hueque meat eating tour of Buenos Aires. The first stop was a restaurant in the funky bohemian neighborhood of  Palermo Viejo. I fell in love with this area of Buenos Aires from the start. With its quirky shops, arty bars, cool galleries, and trendy restaurants, I immediately felt like I found my home away from home in Argentina.

The restaurant for our first meat excursion: La Escondida.

What a hell of a great place for chomping down some Argentinean beef. This steakhouse had an amazing ambiance with high ceilings, an open-air space , and was splattering with delightful colorful walls.

Also: Meat! Meat! Meat!

Dining in Argentina is a vegetarian’s worst nightmare. My gracious host, Rafael, knew the full skinny on Argentinean meat as we dined on chorizo (spicy sausage), chinchulines (crispy intestines) for starters. For the main dish we added to the mix Bife de lomo (very tender filet), Bife de Chorizo (a ribe-eye type steak), and a Matambre de cerdo (grilled pork flank steak). All I could say was “meat-tastic!” More steak!

Our steaks prepared in rare fashion, or as our waitress joked, “Still mooing.” As I indulged in the chinchulines, I would have to say that was the best crispy intestines I have ever eaten.

As we gorged ourselves with even more meat, Rafael explained the troubles vegetarians have when they travel to Argentina: ”It’s a problem. There’s not a lot of options,” he said as I helped myself to more delicious Matambre de cerdo.

Sure, La Escondida also offered an ornate salad bar, with fresh fruits and vegetables (except no meat to place on top of it), but the choices are different in remote regions of Argentina–such as when vegetarian travelers take Say Hueque’s tour of Patagonia and ask for non-meat culinary offerings. “The guides will look at them funny. ‘Are you okay? What’s wrong with you? Why don’t you want meat?’ They will try and take their  temperature to see if they are okay.” Rafael joked, adding, ”It’s not normal for a typical Argentina family to have fish.”

Later that evening I had yet another fantastic Argentina meat eating experience at El Viejo Almacen’s dinner and tango show. What a truly incredible place to eat meat! Tango is the blues of Argentina. Within the frame of an old colonial style mansion,  set in an elegant dining room, I had  yet another huge Argentinean steak (Bife de chorizo) the size of a baby’s head.

El Viejo Almacen is also hosts Buenos Aires’ most famous tango show. This has got to be one of the most romantic spots I’ve been. Except I went on my own and sort of felt like the lone creepy guy. The  maroon jacketed waiter went around snapping photos of all the couples enjoying their wonderful meals. When he got to me, he had another waiter jump into the shot and shake my hand–not as romantic as I’d like it to be.

Regardless, the tango show kicked some serious tango butt while I enjoyed fine red Argentinean wine. The stylish, traditional  tango dancers moved with pure precision. Unbelievable, as as the male dancers flung their partners through the air while the orchestra played the most emotional music in the world. A special tango shout out to the accordion player and violinist.

Even though I woke up in the morning with a bit of a beef-over (kind of like a meat hangover), I made my last stop on the Say Hueque’s meat tour, which was a journey to the legendary Cafe Tortoni . Founded in 1858, I certainly  had to eat some meat at the the oldest coffee shop in Argentina. This impressive joint had the flavor of a Parissiense cafe at its highest level. One of the most impressive jazz clubs I’ve seen was set in the basement as well. With a very rich history, Cafe Tortoni has been visited  through the years by intellectuals, politicians and artists. What better way to conclude my trip to Buenos Aires with their traditional Argentina picada meat platter. Meat-rific!

One can’t help but to fall in love with not only Buenos Aires, but also all the culinary delights that are concocted with their fine beef and meats. Ahoy meaty!

Click here to find  out more about Say Hueque’s meat lover’s tour.

The Latin American Poker Tour (LAPT) was held earlier this month in Lima Peru at the Atlantic City Casino in the beautiful district of Miraflores.

After four days of play, Team PokerStars Pro Jose “Nacho” Barbero became the first person to clinch two LAPT championships. He walked away (not really walked because he had to play a hell of a lot of games) with $250,000 in prize pool money. Viva la Nacho!

During the past year, I’ve covered a lot of big PokerStars tournaments at various locations all over the globe. But I have to say the LAPT was one of my favorites due to the style of play, the attitude of the fans and players, the chatter at the tables, the emotions when a big hand is won, etc..

Tournament poker is also about big personalities. At the LAPT, the personalities are even bigger. The South American culture brings a more flamboyant mix to the poker tables that adds another layer of entertainment to the game than you usually see at tournaments in the U.S.

For example, the World Series of Poker (WSOP) is going on as we speak in Las Vegas. With North American players, you are guaranteed to find a sea of players who look a hell of a lot like this:

On the North American poker circuit, it’s largely a sea of clones in the gray hoodies and sunglasses who play at the tables and look a lot like the Unabomber. But at the LAPT there is more of a sense of flair and style; not to mention individual personalities that shines through the stacked colored chips.

Sure you get guys wearing hoodies, but they seem to pull it off better–looking like a part of Che’s rebel forces:

Some players took the rebel-force-look even further and adopted a poker playing persona that resembled one leading a small revolution in Bolivia. Viva la Poker!

Hoodie-wearing also had a unique twist at the LAPT. Like this player from Costa Rica as an example; the hoodie accessory looks more like he’s ready for a trek in the rainforest rather than a flip of the river card. Stylish!

And of course you get loads guys in sunglasses. The unique South American style can easily incorporate the poker visor and sunglasses all in one look–and make it work.

Maybe its all about having style and flair? Some LAPT players could players pull of the poker playing sunglasses-look and come across looking like a cool Latin pop star.

One of my favorite looks at the LAPT came from this Argentinean player. With a constant huge stack of chips in front of him, he made his way up the tournament ladder while draped in the flag of Argentina.

With a flag signed by all his friends for good luck, he looked like the Superman of Argentina.

“What’s that written on his flag?” I asked his friend about a particular signature written in Spanish that read “la uva”.
“It means grape,” he explained. “It’s something very easy to squash. (Pause.) “It’s ironic.”

Though held in Lima Peru, the LAPT still attracted players from all over the world. The player with the best look was the sole entrant from Russia. He spent the entire tournament wearing a T-shirt with Vladimir Putin blazoned on the front:

But what really made me really fall in love with this guy was his choice of horse and cat figurines that he put on top of cards for good luck during every hand.

“Why did you switch from the cat to the horse?” I asked.
“The horse wasn’t working so well,” was his deadpan reply.

Of course, there was one face on the scene new to the LAPT. Yes, I ripped up the tables in Lima as I made my way to a 2nd place finish in the LAPT media tournament with my sly Texas Hold ‘Em proclivities. (And no, I didn’t see Joran van der Sloot at my table!)

(

And the enthusiastic LAPT fans simply loved it. (If you truly believe this is a shot of them watching me play poker.)

All in all the LAPT is something to truly experience for any fan of the poker circuit. Grab a Pisco Sour and chow down on Ceviche and let the chips stack up.

Joran van der Sloot may or may not be responsible for the disappearance of Natalee Holloway in Aruba. But when it comes to purchasing a copy of People magazine at the supermarket checkout stand, the esteemed publication has firmly decided the blond American is the ticket (note huge cover photo), rather than ethnic Latino woman (note very small photo in the corner).

Just a little rule of thumb to remember when selling magazine copies: if you are going to be a crime victim, make sure you are blond and all-American if you want to grace the cover of magazines.

Thanks People!

Earlier this week in Buenos Aires you could tell World Cup fever was heating up because authorities in Johannesburg were already sending football hooligans back to their respective countries.

“Ten hooligans have been sent back to Argentina for inciting violence,” explained Alejandro–my driver for the travel company Say Hueque. “They arrived at the airport shouting and trying to beat up journalists. They’re very aggressive,” he added about the country’s barras bravas-the organized group renowned for football-related violence. “They’re angry with South Africa. They’re angry with Argentina.”

To avoid having this journalist beaten up, I was brought to the Buenos Aires airport four hours before my flight departed. Unlike, say, The Raider Nation, the Argentinean football hooligans are real thugs. Besides disrupting matches the barras bravas are also known to carry out muscle dirty work for local shady politicians. According to the police, out of the ten Argentinean hooligans that were deported from J’burg, at least two were group leaders and another was out on bail for murder–you know as in “murder”.

“It’s nothing we are proud about,” Alejandro remarked, who plans to watch the Argentina matches in very non-hooligan fashion: with his 90-year-old dad and a fine bottle of wine.

Though there was no loutish behavior from barras bravas at the Buenos Aires airport, I did note a large amount of delicious sandwiches de miga sold at the kiosk.

Maradona-one of the greatest football players of all time and head coach of the Argentina national team-denied last week links to hooligans following reports that a group of barras bravas had traveled with the team to South Africa.

Far from a perfect human being, Maradona is one of the true rock stars of football-literally. In his heyday, he was suspended from football for 15 months after failing a drug test. On an Argentinean talk show, the legendary football player–who rivaled Pele in stature–once said, “Without cocaine I would have been a really good player.” (Ironic laugh inserted here.)

“It’s very emotional with Maradona,” explained my friend Rafael-who runs Say Hueque. “He gave us the World Cup. He’s intense. He hates big powers–he works for the people. He’s dirty. He even insulted the Pope.” (Pause.) He’s very honest.”

The people of Argentina love Maradona. La Boca is a funky Buenos Aires neighborhood that retains a strong European flavor; dotted with colorful houses constructed of corrugated iron. Many of its early settlers where from the Italian city of Genoa.

La Boca is also the residence of Maradona’s home football stadium. When the Say Hueque crew took me to the Boca Junior’s Stadium (also known as “La Bombonera”) there was actually a man who makes his living as a Maradona impersonator. For ten pesos you could get your picture taken with the Maradona doppelganger–clearly, having the worldwide Maradona impersonator market cornered. Yes, the man looked just like Maradona–if Maradona ate one empanada too many. (At least he wore the same Argentina jersey.) I guess the real Maradona also looks like he ate one empanada too many these days. By the way, the Boca Junior stadium is one amazing architectural feat of football splendor that fits 61,000 fans who cheer on the home team.

“The word ‘Maradona’ has saved me so many times,” Rafael confessed. “I’ve been in small towns in Morocco where they want to rob you. I’ll say I’m from Argentina and say the word ‘Maradona’. Their whole attitude changes–it’s the key word. (Pause.) Of course they can still rob you.” He then added, “Maradona and the Pope–they are the most famous people on earth.”

In the United States we tend to forget the global impact that “soccer” has on the rest of the world. Even in the most remote part of Iguazu-in the northern region of Argentina along the Brazilian border-I jogged past the tiniest Guaraní village. Though lacking in basic amenities, there would still be a makeshift set of goals set up on a dirt field-all needed is a ball and a pair of feet to play the greatest game on earth.

When the Argentina team left for the airport to travel to South Africa, the entire city came to a standstill as citizens arrived in droves to wish them good luck. Every inch of this wonderful city you could feel football pulsating through its veins.During the matches, the streets of Buenos Aires will be deserted as everyone will be glued to their televisions cheering on their beloved team.

“It’s important for our social pride to be in the World Cup,” Rafael concluded. “It’s really an important part of the culture. If Argentina wins it will really change the social humor and psyche of the country.”

Check out Say Hueque Maradona tours here.

So I arrived in Lima Peru for my moonlighting job as a poker journalist covering the Latin American Poker Tour (LAPT). The minute I got off the plane I heard on the news that Joran Van der Sloot, the suspect in the Natalee Holloway case was involved in the slaying of 21 year-old Stephany Flores of Lima.

The two met at the Atlantic City Casino–where the LAPT was being held–and were captured together on security video. This was mere hours before I headed to the casino.

I asked the guy in charge of LAPT registration if Van der Sloot was registered as a player in the tournament. He said there was no record–Van der Sloot was merely a “railbird” as they say in poker slang–standing elbow-to-elbow with the other spectators.

The Hotel TAC in Miraflores, where the murder took place, was an eerie sight–mere blocks from where I was staying.
Though the sign beamed OPEN, newspaper covered the windows preventing anyone from looking in.

The local Lima news brigade was camped outside the hotel trying to get comments from people, who were being questioned by the police, as they exited. Concerned hotel employees occasionally ducked their head outside the newspaper covered door–it’s not good for business to be known as the murder hotel.

“We’re trying to look for the police video,” informed a local reporter. Despite the fact that the news stated that Van der Sloot and Flores were noted going alone to his hotel room, the reporter mentioned, “They are looking for another guy who was with him who they saw on the hotel security video.” The reporter then proceeded to try and get a comment from a scared, tearful woman vacating the premises, while the police coroner also brushed them aside.

Just like in the States, the true victims of these sad, oversaturated news stories get lost in the sensationalistic headlines. It’s disturbing how one could go from amongst the railbirds as poker fan at one of the best tournaments in the world to sociopathic killer as quick as the flip of a river card.

This intrepid writer spent his Memorial Day weekend covering the 2010 Masturbate-a-thon put on by the Center for Sex and Culture for Asylum. Much like a Walk-a-thon, the purpose of the Masturbate-a-thon is for participants to get people to sponsor them per orgasm ($20 per money-shot), go for the longevity record, and promote different ways of thinking about sexuality. In case you’re wondering, the female record is 6 hours. (Much lube was involved.) Like dominating the hot dog eating competition, Japan also boosts the male record holder, who arrived a coach in striped matching yellow jumpsuits. Masanubu Sato popped out at an impressive 9 hours 58 seconds.

Though it was a bright, sunny Sunday afternoon, in a large dark room scattered with pillows a gathering of almost entirely naked men who were slapping the salami, adjustin’ the sundial, buffing the banana, etc….(you get the point )with expressions on their faces like they were in a bus waiting room.

The room was segregate with voyeurs in the bleachers and a special area for “performers”. At the start a nervous energy was afoot as complete strangers laid side-by-side spanking the monkey. Just watch so you don’t accidentally back into anything.

Another $20 raised by these two participants who finished in sync. Correct me if I’m wrong but isn’t that George Lucas on the right? (He’s a Star Wars doppelganger with a huge nutsack.) Earlier I could have sworn I saw Andy Dick going for the gold.

When people have been masturbating a couple of hours you need a bit of food. I think I’ll back away from the chips and salsa and the rest of the shared finger food. This is particularly not advisable after the ejaculation distance competition. (Both male and female.)

In the Masturbation-a-thon raised roughly around $10,000 for the Center for Sex and Culture as over 250 people passed through the doors.

As Woody Allen said, “Don’t knock masturbation, it’s sex with someone I love.”

See the entire masturbation-a-thon photo story at Asylum.