Poker Can be Taxing

I guess you have read that President Bush wants to stimulate the economy by doing away with taxes on stock dividends. This would be terrific for billionaires like Barry Shulman, but wouldn't do much for struggling poker players. After all, very few poker players have stock portfolios. If your typical degenerate player ever managed to get his hands on some extra cash, he'd use the money constructively by moving up to bigger-limit games instead of wasting it on the stock market.

The irony of all of this is that poker players are the most ruinously taxed group in the country, and the ones most deserving of tax relief. I'm not just talking about taxes paid to the government, even though they do pay more than their share because all poker players are scrupulously honest in reporting their winnings. I'm talking about how they get taxed, or hit on, every step of the way when they're playing poker.

Consider this: First, of course, there's the cost of doing business in the form of collections on rakes. That's OK, because casinos can't be expected to operate for free. But on top of that, there's the small matter of toking, which sometimes puts a player in an uncomfortable situation. Say you're playing in a $4-$8 Omaha eight-or-better game in California. You and another player split a pot, make a profit of maybe $11 each, and then risk having the dealer put a curse on your descendants if each of you don't flip him a dollar toke.

This custom of tipping continues right down the line. You ask a server to bring you a bottle of water. You pay a buck for a little 8-ounce bottle, then tip another dollar to whomever brought it to you. That works out to more than $16 for each gallon of water, which is about what I pay for perfume for my sweetie. Then there are tips for valet parkers, food servers, floormen, chip runners, cashiers, brushes, porters, board sign-up people, and gift shop attendants, all of whom either have their hands out or are waving tip jars stuffed with decoy currency.

Despite all this, poker players don't enjoy any of the tax breaks of businessmen, who can deduct just about anything from mileage to food to hotels to equipment to the cost of having their cats groomed.

Therefore, as one of the most respected spokesmen in poker, second only to Oklahoma Johnny Hale, I decided to launch a crusade to obtain tax relief for poker players everywhere. I petitioned the IRS for a hearing, and in due course was granted an audience with one of its officials, a gentleman named Hector the Collector. As I walked into the Collector's office, I tried not to be intimidated by the collection of mounted heads he had on his wall - heads of taxpayers who had tried to protest their assessments.

"Hi," I said as engagingly as I could, "I represent poker players everywhere, and I … "

"Who sent you - Brent Carter?" he snapped. "We're tired of him pestering us to stop taxing tournament wins."

"No, no," I replied. "I'm here to petition for tax relief for day-to-day poker players."

"What sort of tax relief?" the Collector demanded.

"Well, like all the tips we players give to dealers. Why shouldn't they be tax-deductible?"

The Collector consulted a manual. "Section 12, subsection 12-A, Schedule C," he intoned. "All tips proven necessary to a legitimate business endeavor must be authenticated by a 1099 Miscellaneous Income form signed by the recipient."

"What!" I screamed. "You expect the dealer to fill out and sign a form every time I give him a 50-cent toke?"

"Fifty cents?" the Collector smirked. "Subsection 14-B dictates that for a gratuity to be recognized as a deduction, it must constitute a minimum of $5."

"What? I have to tip a dealer five bucks when I win a $12 pot? That won't work. How about if I just get to list dealers as my dependents?"

"On what basis, Mr. Shapiro?"

"Well, I'm dependent on them to deal me winners," I said, laughing at my own joke.

The Collector, obviously not amused, pointedly looked at his watch. "Now, if that will be all, I have an appointment with Steve Case to discuss his $750 million write-off at AOL."

"Not so fast!" I yelled. "I sometimes have to wait an hour to get online at AOL. Let him wait now." I pulled out a memo pad, on which I had written some notes. "What about deductions for poker players for things like mileage, and hotel bills, and food?"

"Well, according to Section … "

"Just give the bottom line," I said.

"Yes. Well, there are two criteria. For a poker player to be allowed said deductions, he must first prove his status as a professional gambler by showing that poker is the primary source of his income."

"It has to be," I said patiently. "Poker players don't have real jobs."

"The second criterion," he continued, "is that a player must show he has made a profit from gambling in three consecutive years in order to obtain professional status. Have you ever shown a profit three years in a row, Mr. Shapiro?" he asked, grinning at me like a hyena.

"Uh, well, I haven't lost that much," I answered evasively, quickly changing the subject. "How about poker-related medical expenses?"

"Such as?"

"Well, headache tablets, for example."

"Possibly, but only up to 3 percent of a poker player's winnings."

"If poker players won, they wouldn't need headache pills," I pointed out. "Look," I said, close to tears, "isn't there any kind of break at all that you can offer poker players?"

The Collector, perhaps trying to do the impossible and show that he was human, relented and offered a tiny concession. "Well, if a poker player fits into a certain category, we might possibly allow the costs of psychiatric counseling to be deducted."

"And which category is that?"

"If he plays crazy pineapple."