Vegasing

Trying to get back into blogging and what a more horrific place to restart it than in the wonderful world of Las Vegas.

The setting? No longer that Busted Flush santuary somewhere between Margaritaville and the Mississippi. Not drinking and writingto you from a cabana like sanctum. Oh no, no New Orleans here (except the spew they try to sell at you at Harrah's here. No, I am writing an internet television deep in the bowels of the Flamingo Hotel, currently owned by Caesar's Palace across the Street. Locked away escapingthe desert heat (yes sorry to say this is still considered a desert) in a hotel room.

But am I having fun?

I am not sure exactly who has fun here but there seems to be two types that prefer this contrived oasis of capitalist pleasure.

One is what Travis McGee would call,the sun bunnies. Beautiful people buying beautiful things without any beautiful taste. Those that are Aztecs at heart and allow their bodies to be eventually prematurely aged, like cannibalist beef jerky YUM. I laugh at the lovely ladies, the 20 or even late 20 something crowd that think they can drink forever and not gain an ounce as long as you mix the liquor with Red Bull. Eventually the slush will begin to collectlike goo around the thighs and stomach. Nothing more attractive in a thong.

The other side are those people that have decided to enjoy life after years of struggle, to save nothing for a rainy day (and you know its going to downpour on social security realsoon, thanks to the Reps I can see the clouds forming even on this porch), and refuse to leave one unearned red scent to the kids or their suburban spawn. These I call the leather necks, the old ones that have a pirate mentality and spend just as fast as they win. I may laugh at them, sitting their with another pention checked forwarded to mighty Casino Caesar, but they are always the ones in the win photos on the slots.

So am I having fun, sure, if this is civilization than I am Nero.

Oh and could you hand me that fiddle?