モリー・ブルームの衝撃的な回顧録は、ディカプリオやアフレックといったハリウッドスターたちが数百万ドルを賭けていたハイステークス・ポーカーの秘密の世界を明らかにしています。アーロン・ソーキンによる映画化の前、ブルームは市場を動かすほどのゲームを支配していました。彼女が恐れることなく暴露した、トビー・マグワイアの衝撃的な振る舞いについて尋ねれば、それがわかるはずです。
モリーズ・ゲーム 私はこうして、ハリウッドの精鋭からウォール街の億万長者までを、闇のポーカーにのめり込ませたの要約をPDFまたはEPUBで無料でダウンロード。印刷やオフラインでいつでもお読みいただけます。
コロンビア大学卒業生が開発 | サンフランシスコ発
平均評価
7,840件以上のアプリ評価
BeFreedコミュニティ
正直、まだアプリを使いこなせていませんが、この数日使っただけで本当に感動しました… BeFreed は、今まで使ったどの学習アプリともレベルが違います。夢中になれるうえに集中力も実際に上がるので、スマホをだらだら見てしまう人にぴったりです！
@ladyInfinity
ちょうど 23 日前に BeFreed を購入して、それから毎日欠かさず使っています。仕事の流れと学習習慣に完全に溶け込みました。
@jayallen
正直なところ、このアプリは期待をすべて超えてきました。どんなテーマでも音声を生成してもらえて、その結果には驚かされます。私の専門は心理療法で、多分野にまたがる領域ですが、それでも回答はとても正確です。
@Raguipa
何よりありがたいのは、スマホをだらだら見る時間が減ったことです。探す時間が減って、吸収する時間が増えました。オーディオブック、ポッドキャスト、学習プランの組み合わせが素晴らしいです。
@colonyofcreatorsNGO
私は 24 年間、PhotoReading 加速学習のインストラクターをしています… 本と読書と学びが私の専門ですが、BeFreed は情報を消化しやすい形で届ける革新的なアプローチを見事に実現しています。
@BeFreed user
ただの本の要約アプリではありません。「ファン」スタイルを使ってみたら、従来のやり方よりずっと良い要約で、アイデアもつかみやすいです。これだけでも十分元が取れます。
@austinakon
このアプリが大好きです。数日使っただけで、聞くのが止まらなくなりました。始め方として最高です。
@jcrules328
本当に気に入っています。約 1 か月試していますが、まさに掘り出し物だと感じます。BeFreed で自分だけのテーマを作れるのが便利で、声も素晴らしく、ナレーションの選択肢は無限です。
@DanielCZ
役立つ情報やアイデアを 8〜15 分のポッドキャスト風音声にぎゅっとまとめて聞けるのが最高です。ポッドキャストは余計な話が多くて苦手でしたが、これは無駄を全部そぎ落としてくれます。
@BeFreed user
博士課程の仕上げの段階で、なじみのない資料を大量に読む必要があります… BeFreed ならプロンプトを入力するだけで、アプリが資料を探して音声ポッドキャストを作ってくれます。BeFreed のほうが NotebookLM よりも流れがスムーズだと感じます。
@Brad
朝食を作りながら、散歩しながら、通勤しながら聞くものを YouTube でよく探していましたが、BeFreed は広告も余計な話もなしで、もっと的を絞った聞き方をさせてくれます！
@BeFreed user
このプラットフォームの一番の魅力は、その万能さです。扱えないテーマは文字どおりひとつもありません。何を投げても応えてくれます… 制限がまったくないのに約束をきちんと果たしてくれる学習ツールには、なかなか出会えません。
@jayallen
BeFreed は素晴らしいです。使いやすいデザインのおかげで、操作に迷う時間が減り、学ぶ時間が増えました。オーディオブック、ポッドキャスト、学習プランの組み合わせは天才的で、毎日の習慣がすっかり変わりました。
@BeFreed user
最初はイタリア語でポッドキャストを作る方法を理解するのに少し時間がかかりましたが、わかった瞬間、最高でした！どんなテーマでも説明してもらえて、しかもとても賢く、うまく話してくれます！
@matteo77
BeFreed は毎日使うオーディオブックアプリになりました… 一番気に入っているのは、自分のテキストを入れると、外出先でも聞ける音声にしてくれるところです。
@kotanzu1
モリーズ・ゲーム 私はこうして、ハリウッドの精鋭からウォール街の億万長者までを、闇のポーカーにのめり込ませたの同じアイデアを、あなたに合う声・深さ・ペースで学べます。いつでも切り替えられます。
In 2013, armed federal agents stormed Molly Bloom's apartment at dawn, forcing her against the wall in handcuffs. The document they showed her began with the chilling words: "The United States of America v. Molly Bloom." How did a small-town Colorado girl with Olympic skiing aspirations become the target of an FBI raid? "Molly's Game" provides the extraordinary answer. This memoir rocketed to bestseller status and inspired Aaron Sorkin's Oscar-nominated film starring Jessica Chastain. Leonardo DiCaprio, Tobey Maguire, and Ben Affleck were among the A-listers who frequented Bloom's legendary poker games, where buy-ins reached $250,000. The Wall Street Journal called it "the most captivating depiction of the poker world since Rounders," while The New York Times praised Bloom's "unflinching look at the excesses of the rich and famous." Beyond the celebrity gossip lies a profound story of ambition, reinvention, and the high price of chasing the American dream.
Growing up in Loveland, Colorado, my life was defined by two contrasting parental influences. My psychologist father demanded perfection in academics and athletics, pushing us beyond normal limits with fiery intensity. My gentle mother nurtured our individuality and taught compassion. This duality shaped my childhood, where weekends meant competitive skiing and weekdays meant striving for straight As. At twelve, my world changed dramatically when severe scoliosis required emergency surgery. Doctors fused eleven vertebrae and attached metal rods to my spine, declaring my competitive sports career over. But I refused this sentence. After a year of lonely, painful recovery, I returned to skiing with fierce determination, eventually placing third overall in the U.S. national ski team-matching my brother Jeremy's achievement and shocking my father who had tried to discourage me. Despite this success, I felt perpetually inadequate next to my brothers' clear talents. Jeremy was a skiing prodigy and athletic star, while Jordan was an intellectual destined to become a surgeon. I performed well academically and athletically but lacked a standout talent. This drove me to constantly seek my father's approval, accepting his suggestion to become an attorney and studying political science in college while continuing to compete. The relentless pursuit of excellence came at a cost. Exhausted from constant pain and trying to prove myself, I eventually retired from skiing on my own terms. During study abroad in Greece, I discovered a wider world beyond seeking my father's approval. I fell in love with the Gypsies' free-spirited lifestyle, writing my honors thesis on nomadic peoples' legal treatment. This early life established the pattern that would follow me into adulthood: an unwavering determination to succeed against impossible odds, a willingness to endure pain for achievement, and a constant hunger for validation. These traits would serve me well in my next chapter-but they would also lead me down a dangerous path where ambition blurred ethical boundaries and success came with unexpected consequences.
『モリーズ・ゲーム 私はこうして、ハリウッドの精鋭からウォール街の億万長者までを、闇のポーカーにのめり込ませた』の要約の一語一語が音声に合わせてリアルタイムでハイライトされ、自然に読み進められます。
My entry into Hollywood's elite circles began unexpectedly when Reardon Green nearly hit me with his Mercedes outside Boulevard restaurant. I was hired on the spot and thrown into a sink-or-swim environment where celebrities lounged on suede ottomans and leather banquettes. Without training, I made myself useful clearing plates and refilling drinks, observing the fascinating dynamics between the three owners: Reardon (the brilliant, volatile brains), Cam (the trust-fund money), and Sam (the charming schmoozer). "You're the worst fucking waitress we've ever seen," Reardon told me bluntly one day. But he followed with a surprising offer to work for their real estate development fund. Working for Reardon was baptism by fire-he'd demand impossible restaurant reservations at the last minute and berate me when I failed. Once he exploded when I brought "poor people bagels" from Pink Dot instead of the proper ones from Greenblatt's. Despite his cruelty, I studied him obsessively. Reardon was a master negotiator who could convince brilliant people to make terrible decisions. He gave me a Wall Street-style education few women receive-teaching me to operate under pressure, analyze deals, and recognize opportunity. His business lessons were short on detail though: "Take care of the company" while they partied for weeks, or "take care of the escrow" without explaining what an escrow was. To supplement my basic salary, I took a cocktail waitress job at Shelter, where the uniform was a skimpy faux-animal pelt with fur trim and a clip-on mohawk. Despite looking like "a slutty rooster," I made more in one night than in a week at my day job. Working sober at clubs gave me an education in Hollywood politics while the cash allowed me to upgrade my wardrobe. Over time, I became the assistant who could do anything-from securing impossible restaurant reservations to managing escrow accounts. I developed a repertoire of techniques, like pretending I'd made a reservation months ago when calling restaurants, adding tears if necessary. When the guys included me in their celebrations, pouring me Macallan 18, I desperately wanted to belong despite the scotch tasting like gasoline. This period taught me crucial lessons about power, influence, and Hollywood's unspoken rules-knowledge that would prove invaluable when I later created my own empire built on understanding the psychology of wealthy, powerful men.
Reardon summoned me one Friday afternoon with unexpected news: we'd be hosting a poker game at the Viper Room the following Tuesday. My assignment was to invite an A-list of Hollywood celebrities including Tobey Maguire and Leonardo DiCaprio, telling them to bring $10,000 cash for buy-ins. I spent the weekend researching poker terminology and obsessing over text messages to these celebrities. To my surprise, they all responded immediately with "I'm in." On game day, I set up the dingy Viper Room basement with flowers and candles while the dealer, Diego, prepared the table. When the players arrived-Todd Phillips, Bruce Parker, Bob Safai, Phillip Whitford, Houston Curtis, Tobey, Leo, Steve Brill, and Dylan Sellers-I nervously introduced myself, collected their buy-ins, and served drinks. I felt like Alice tumbling down a rabbit hole as I counted $100,000 in cash. During the game, I learned to stay quiet when players were in a hand. I observed these powerful men discussing Hollywood, real estate, and business while I served drinks. At Reardon's suggestion, the players tipped me $3,000 total as they left. The poker game quickly became the most coveted invitation in Los Angeles. Our player roster expanded to include celebrities like John Asher (Jenny McCarthy's ex), Irv Gotti of Murder Inc, director Nick Cassavetes, and Houston Rockets owner Leslie Alexander. I observed fascinating social dynamics as newcomers joined-regulars often hazed them, unless they were celebrities or billionaires. When Reardon later fired me over Christmas and tried to take away the game, I made a strategic move. I called Phillip Whitford, a powerful player who'd become a friend, who immediately offered to host the game at his house without Reardon. To my shock, when the players were given a choice, they unanimously chose me over Reardon. The game was now mine. That night, I realized why I'd endured Reardon's abuse and degrading service jobs. I wanted a big life, a grand adventure, and this was my opportunity. Like Alice in Wonderland, I knew I could never go back to who I was before.
With the game now mine, I analyzed what made it successful. My poker empire wasn't traditional gambling; it was about escapism for wealthy players with the gambling gene. I identified four key principles: keep players comfortable, bring in new blood, make myself irreplaceable, and remember it's always about money. I elevated the experience by moving from the seedy Viper Room basement to luxury hotel suites at the Peninsula, Four Seasons, and Beverly Hills Hotel. I added massage therapists, gourmet food, and beautiful women to create an atmosphere of exclusivity and indulgence. The stakes soared higher in the luxurious setting, with players sometimes losing $300,000 in just three hours. As my income exploded, I gradually upgraded my life-taking over Reardon's lease on his S-class Mercedes and moving into my own apartment on the twentieth floor of a fancy building on Sunset. I negotiated a cash deal for six months' rent upfront and furnished it beautifully. I invested in my appearance with expensive clothes, trainers, facials, and salon visits, while also cultivating my mind through French lessons, art studies, and books on business and strategy. The most fascinating character in my poker world was Tobey Maguire-brilliant at poker but often cruel. During one game, he held out a $1,000 chip as if to tip me, but suddenly pulled it back, demanding I "bark like a seal" for it. With the entire table watching, he insisted I debase myself for the money. Despite my burning embarrassment, I refused. Though I knew it wasn't strategically smart to challenge him, I needed to maintain the other players' respect. My relationship with Drew McCourt, son of the Dodgers' owners, added complexity to my life. Going to baseball games with Drew's family was nothing like my childhood experiences. Instead of jeans and junk food in the nosebleeds, with the McCourts I sat by the dugout dressed impeccably, entertaining VIPs. I was constantly torn between my public life with Drew and my underground poker empire. The arrival of Brad Ruderman changed everything. Introduced as a successful fund manager and serious gambler, Brad played terribly, losing buy-in after buy-in until he was down high six figures. When he left to get a check, I assumed he'd disappear, but he returned with payment in full and eagerly asked to play again. His check cleared immediately, beginning what I called "the era of Bad Brad." Little did I know this terrible poker player would later become central to my downfall.
Despite my spectacular success, trouble was brewing. Tobey had begun openly complaining about how much Diego and I were making, suggesting the game needed "restructuring" to cap my earnings. Then came the devastating blow-Arthur Grossman wanted to host the game at his newly built $85 million mansion, without me present. When Tobey called at 2 AM to confirm my fears, I knew I was "fucked"-Arthur was taking over my game permanently. The players apologetically explained they couldn't pass up playing with someone who lost millions at the table. After a month of Tuesdays watching my game continue without me, I realized it was time to fold. Los Angeles had become a city of ghosts for me-Drew, the game, and the friends I'd traded for my new life were all gone. I decided to move to New York City, drawn by rumors of a game five times larger than mine in LA. My only contact was Kenneth Redding, a Wall Street tycoon who had once crushed my game for over a million dollars. When I called him suggesting I take over the "burden" of organizing the New York game, he was receptive but cautious. On my final night in LA, I attended the legendary New York game, dressed in a blazer and glasses to appear more CEO-like than party girl. I was escorted through a gorgeous Park Avenue townhouse belonging to a Wall Street titan, only to find myself in a small, unfinished basement. Surprisingly, these masters of the financial universe-men who could fund Hollywood movies with a check-were playing with cheap chips on a makeshift table with mismatched chairs. The players were a who's who of finance: Kenneth, a powerful Wall Street figure; Easton Brandt, a self-made billionaire hedge fund owner; Keith Finkle, a legendary trader; Helly Nahmad, a playboy art collector from a family worth billions; and several Russians. I watched in amazement as Kenneth calmly lost a $4 million hand without the theatrics I'd grown accustomed to in LA. This was a gentleman's game, seemingly untouched by the economic crisis affecting the rest of the world. I knew immediately that I could transform it with aesthetic details, beautiful women, and most importantly, by bringing in new players with deep pockets.
『モリーズ・ゲーム 私はこうして、ハリウッドの精鋭からウォール街の億万長者までを、闇のポーカーにのめり込ませた』の要約の一語一語が音声に合わせてリアルタイムでハイライトされ、自然に読み進められます。
I activated my network, recruiting wealthy connections and building a team of beautiful, intelligent women who could help me infiltrate New York's elite gambling circles. My team was impressive: Sunny, my blonde dealer who preferred poker tables to Hollywood fame; Lola, a beautiful Long Island native and skilled player; Julia, a gorgeous Asian math genius; Caroline, a multilingual diplomat's daughter; Kendall, an all-American masseuse; Rider, skilled at gathering intelligence; Tiffany, my seductress friend from LA; and "Little," my tall blonde model assistant who handled organization. We quickly became notorious in Manhattan. Within a month, I was running the big game (rotating between the Four Seasons and Plaza) plus two smaller games from my chic Manhattan apartment. My doormen were initially confused by the parade of men and beautiful women twice weekly until generous tips bought their understanding. I elevated the New York game just as I had in LA-moving it from a dingy basement to luxury hotel suites, adding beautiful women, massage therapists, and gourmet food. The stakes soared even higher, with players sometimes betting millions on a single hand. I discovered a fascinating new clientele in wealthy Russians. They respected me, loved luxury, spent money effortlessly, and never pried into each other's business affairs. I became particularly close with Alex, a mysterious, sophisticated leader among them. With Russians, Wall Street executives, athletes and celebrities, my big game was better than ever. My relationship with Eugene, a professional gambler who became my partner and lover, added another layer of complexity. While this arrangement benefited my business, Eugene became addicted to gambling, playing for days straight and running up debts. Our relationship was intense-we used gambling and our obsession with each other to fill the voids in our lives. Through a wealthy friend's lead, I met Glen Reynolds-young, rich and reckless. When he finally showed up to my experimental smaller-stakes game, his aggressive Long Island trader persona both offended and attracted me. After several Red Bulls with vodka, Glen drove the stakes higher, losing $100,000 as other players sensed blood. The game transformed from friendly to predatory, with players joining when they heard Glen was bleeding money. When Glen lost everything and then contested part of his debt, I leveraged my understanding of his psychology-inviting him to dinner with beautiful girls and portraying myself as someone he could help. Two weeks later, he paid the full amount and became one of my most valuable players. I was now at the pinnacle of my success-running multiple high-stakes games across New York, dating Glen, and making more money than I'd ever imagined. But as I would soon discover, the higher you climb, the harder you fall.
Summer brought renewed hope as I rented another Hamptons mansion and rebuilt my roster. Though making money again, I felt weary of constant betrayals and the loneliness of my position. Even while collecting $50,000 in cash one night in Ibiza, I felt empty watching the hedonistic party scene. Back in New York, my driver Silas unexpectedly offered to connect me with "friends" who ran hedge-fund games in Jersey. When I met them at the Four Seasons, they turned out to be two imposing men straight out of "Goodfellas"-Nicky and Vinny. Their "partnership" offer was actually a thinly veiled threat: give them a piece of my business for "protection." I explained that involving them would actually drive away my legitimate clients, but they insisted this was "how it works" in New York. After going back and forth in circles, I offered to think about it and suggested we could talk in a couple days. Later, Nicky called asking for help to do something different with his life, and I agreed to meet after the holidays. But soon I became busy with other problems-a bounced $250,000 check and Kenneth slow-paying me half a million. Returning to Colorado for Christmas felt like visiting another planet. The pristine snow, neighbors greeting me by name, and baristas genuinely asking about my day contrasted sharply with my New York life. Despite my success, I felt like an outsider in my family. My brothers were thriving-Jordan at Harvard's residency program with a new family, Jeremy launching a successful tech company and philanthropy work after his sports career. At dinner, after too much wine, my feelings of inadequacy erupted. I boasted about my money, celebrity connections, and lifestyle, only to be met with my brother Jordan's pointed question: "Is this really the life you want?" Angry and embarrassed, I fled upstairs, booked a flight back to New York, and left without proper goodbyes. Back in New York, my optimism was shattered when a man forced his way into my apartment, held me at gunpoint, and demanded my money. After taking my cash and family jewelry, he revealed he'd been sent by the men from the Four Seasons. He brutally beat me, threatening my family if I went to the police. When I regained consciousness, I was alone and terrified, with no one to call. My relief was short-lived when I received a subpoena regarding Brad Ruderman, a notoriously bad player from my LA games who had been running a Ponzi scheme. Brad had lost $5.3 million in my games while running a $45 million Ponzi scheme. Now he was claiming I had lured him into gambling addiction that led to his crimes.
The night I had an epic game planned with international high-rollers, I received an anonymous warning call: "Don't go to your game tonight." Dismissing it as a competitor's intimidation tactic, I dressed in my white silk dress, nude stilettos, silver fox coat and vintage Dior diamonds. As I waited for the elevator, my phone buzzed with a text from Peter: "The FBI is here!! 20 or so. They are looking for you." Frozen in shock, I rushed back to my apartment, grabbed my purse, a hastily packed suitcase, and Lucy before fleeing. Looking back at the glowing EMPIRE sign on my building, I somehow knew I'd never return. I fled to Colorado after narrowly avoiding arrest, my bank accounts seized with negative balances of $9,999,999.00. The government wanted me to inform on organized crime, but remembering my attacker's threats against my mother, I refused. I sold my possessions, gave up my apartment, and moved home to learn how to live quietly in nature, wrestling with depression and relief in equal measure. Two years after my world collapsed, I moved back to LA into a modest apartment. Though most "friends" disappeared when the money did, I still had a few quality relationships. One morning while walking Lucy, I unexpectedly ran into Eugene, who had also moved to LA and was living just blocks away. He greeted me warmly with "Zilla!" and a tight hug. We reminisced about our past, and when I apologized for how I'd treated him, he replied, "I'll always love you, Zil, and I forgave you a long time ago. You are the strongest, prettiest girl I know, with the smallest feet and little wings." At 5 AM, my phone rang. An FBI agent demanded I come out immediately or they'd break down my door. Twenty agents with assault weapons arrested me. They handcuffed me, made me change clothes under supervision, and transported me downtown in shackles. In the holding facility, I saw Eugene and other familiar faces-all arrested in the same operation. The indictment named thirty-four defendants in an alleged criminal conspiracy involving Russian organized crime and a $100 million bookmaking operation run from Trump Tower. I was the only woman. Released on $100,000 bail, I later appeared in court to plead not guilty. The experience was surreal-my mother unknowingly sat beside Eugene's distraught mother while defendants in suits, tracksuits and prison uniforms filled the courtroom. I faced five to ten years. After a heartbreaking year, I decided not to fight the charges-I couldn't afford the legal battle with no guarantee of justice. On December 12, 2013, I accepted the charges and became a convicted felon awaiting sentencing.
Despite everything, I would choose the same path again. I had a grand adventure where I learned to believe in myself, though I also became reckless and hurt people. The lessons I learned, both in success and failure, taught me I can use everything I've experienced to do something that matters. An old poker pro's words came back to me: "Poker will break your heart... Poker is the game of life." During a trek to Machu Picchu, I reflected on my former life presiding over decadent penthouses where kings played with their empires-yet when the last card was dealt, nothing remained of the glory, no monuments to victory, just silence as if it had never happened at all. My story exposes the dark underbelly of wealth and power in America-how the ultrarich gamble not just with money but with lives and livelihoods. I witnessed firsthand how addiction manifests among those who seemingly have everything, and how the pursuit of more can become an insatiable hunger that consumes everything in its path. Yet my journey also reveals something profound about resilience and reinvention. From a small-town girl with a damaged spine to the queen of high-stakes poker to a convicted felon, each transformation required courage, adaptability, and an unwavering belief in my own capacity to rise again. The same determination that pushed me back onto the ski slopes after doctors said I would never compete again helped me build an empire from nothing-twice-and would ultimately help me rebuild my life after everything came crashing down. In poker terms, as long as you have a chip and a chair, you're still in the game. And I'm still playing, just with different stakes and a much clearer understanding of what truly matters.
“23日間、毎日使い続けています。今では日課の一部です。”
jayallen
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