I Defeated the Angel of Death in a Hearts Game

At this time of year, I make a conscious effort to avoid driving. It's warm enough that I can bike, walk or even take a bus to wherever I need to be. Moreover, I recently lent my car to a friend whose car was totaled in an accident. But on Friday, I broke down and rented a car so I could compete in a Hearts tournament. It was in the secret underground lair of the Angel of Death, located somewhere in the western portion of Lehigh County.

His wife makes excellent turkey chili, by the way.

The Angel of Death hates comparisons to Lucifer or Satan. "I'm one of the good guys," he protests. He's still a bastard, but has a weakness. When not wielding his sickle, he's a sucker for a game of Hearts. He's even been known to travel to Las Vegas to participate in tournaments there. If your time is up and he comes knocking at your door, you might be able to delay the inevitable by challenging him to a game. I have to warn you, he is extremely competitive. But if he likes the way you play, you can buy some time. That's what I did. It's why I'm still kicking around at age 69, even though he says I'm "barely competent."

The Angel of Death is known by many names. In Revelations, he is one of the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse, and has the handle Thanatos. We call him the Grim Reaper; Jews call him Mal'ak Ha-mashḥit; Christians call him Michael; and Muslims refer to him as Azrael. They're all wrong. But if I tell you his real name, this blog entry will never be finished.

He's funny that way.

Death always has interesting companions at the card table. Bottom-feeding bloggers like myself are a bit low brow. His guests are usually a bit more illustrious. His card companions Friday night included none other than Miyamoto Musashi and the Holy Fool.

Now Musashi, author of the Dokkodo and Japan's greatest ever swordsman, has been dead for 375 years. He might have been Japan's greatest swordsman ever, but he sucks at Hearts. We all love his pithy statements in the middle of a hand that makes no sense.

"Do not pursue the taste of good food," he said as he gulped down about 30 kiffles.

"Do not regret what you have done," he'd say after attempting to shoot the moon and totally blowing it.

The Holy Fool is very much alive, and has never won a game. But he has the misfortune of being a truth-teller. He even tells his wife and children the truth about losing. He questions everything and ends up tripping himself up. Example. On Friday night, he let it slip that he had the Queen of Spades. he got stuck with it and never recovered.

We need holy fools who tell inconvenient truths about what is wrong in the world. There are far too few of them. But they suck at Hearts.

I told you the Angel of Death has a weakness for Hearts. He has another weakness, too. Sangria, especially if mixed with fruit. The strange thing is that, the more he imbibes, the better he gets. So my primary strategy is to keep it away from him. If he's ahead, he gets very cheerful and loves gloating at his less fortunate players. If he's losing, he analyzes every hand ad nauseam to discover what went wrong. He mistakenly insists Hearts is a game of skill.

On Friday, I managed to defeat Death in one game, and thus have been spared for a few weeks. He won the second, but will be analyzing his loss for the next few weeks.

I do not go there for the card play or even the food, though it's always delicious. I enjoy the conversation. It includes local and (sometimes) national politics, books, magazines and wonderful stories. We spend more time solving the problems of the world than we do playing cards.

The Angel of Death and Miyamoto Musashi, incidentally, are going to vote for Trump. They are far from enthusiastic about it, but there it is. The Holy Fool and I are going with Biden. We have our misgivings as well, but there it is.