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About a half hour ago, just after 5:00, a member of the production staff whispered to me the following state secret: “Mike Matusow will soon be entering the game.”

Gus, apparently, is leaving in a few minutes. He’s been uncharacteristically quiet with his chips today.

He hasn’t gotten up yet, so maybe there will be a bunch of action in his last few hands.

But Matusow is here, entering with his characteristic blunder, insults, and predictions. He’s wearing a giant orange short-sleeved button-down shirt and he looks good. He tells me his weight is just under 200, but he wants to get back down to 185. “My girlfriend told me she thought I looked too thin.” But he looks healthy: short-haired, clean-shaven, the guy holding poker in the palm of his hand.

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