Hellmuth Further Proves He Has No Shame

Phil Hellmuth–it’s a name synonymous with many things: incessant whining, hate rants about Europeans, berating people by saying they can’t “spell the word poker”, segments during ESPN poker coverage doing shirtless yoga, and unrelenting, shameless self-promotion. He is clearly a man who knows no bounds, and earlier this week, reaffirmed the he was the same predictably absurd ol’ Hellmuth.

As the years go by at the World Series of Poker (WSOP) Main Event, it seems as though Hellmuth keeps trying to constantly hurdle a bar of embarrassment he both sets on himself and is too stubborn to realize is even there with progressively grandiose and morbidly self-absorbed entrances through the Rio’s front door.  On a graph of dignity over time, Hellmuth looks like a plummeting stock for humanity’s pride. Let’s take a look back at a timeline of Phil’s Main Event arrivals that would turn itself into a noose and kick out the chair if it had the chance.

• 2006 — Hellmuth shows up two hours late, giving people false hopes that he may actually not show up at all. The nine other people at his table are the real winners here, enjoying laughter and three-bets for two hours in his absence before the weight of his soul-crushing ego came and pissed on their parades.
• 2007 — Hellmuth attempts to arrive in his site-sponsored race car, only to hilariously crash it in the Rio parking lot and have his marvelous arrival postponed by two hours. He would later arrive in a limo, meeting up with 11 models for his entrance, one for each WSOP bracelet the “Poker Brat” has won throughout the years. But if all those models were with Phil, who was working the lunch shift at the Sapphire Gentleman’s Club?
• 2008 — How do you top crashing a race car? You dress up as General Patton, less the virtue and respect. The 11 stars on his fatigues represent his bracelets and 11 reasons why veterans in Iraq would rather have Hellmuth shielding them from insurgent gun fire than flak jackets.
• 2009 — So you wake up out of bed a year later, army greens hanging in your closet. You give your ad wizards a call and you reach what conclusion? The only way to beat disgracing the Armed Forces is to defecate on history books. Brought to the red carpet on the shoulders of four beefy men in Halloween-grade Roman costumes and dressed as Julius Caesar surrounded by tens of scantly clad women dressed in low-cut “period attire”, Phil makes way to his seat with drums and trumpets playing. Where’s Brutus when you need him?
• 2010 — So what diabolically ego-fluffing way does Hellmuth choose to enter at the turn of the decade? See for yourself below. SPOILER ALERT: Your hands will be holding your head as it shakes from left to right.