Culture

Sometimes you take Las Vegas by storm.  From the moment you touch down you own the town.  Cocktail waitresses line up to flirt with you, parlays pop like Springtime blossoms, the maitre d shows you to your private table, and slot machines gush silver dollars as you walk past. But just as one-armed bandits with real levers to pull and a song of coins splashing into metal trays have been replaced by television screens that spit bar coded receipts, those golden days of panache and profit are sometimes trumped by stumbling, groaning defeat. Sometimes Vegas drags you through its streets. It pisses on your shoes, splatters mud on your suit, shreds your silk tie, and leaves you bedraggled, limp, and lifeless in the gutter as aspiring showgirls dig their stiletto heels into your supine body on their way to auditions.  Sometimes Las Vegas owns your sorry ass and all you can do is whimper and beg for mercy, knowing that none is coming.

timeshare.  After picking me up at the airport and grabbing dinner at The Bootlegger, which featured some good singing and a fantastic backup band, he drove me over to M, the ill-fated new casino built by the Marnell family on the far south end.  They spent over a billion dollars, opened it just as the national and local economies went belly-up, and were forced into bankruptcy within a few months.  A Pennsylvania racing and casino syndicate got it at auction for a song.  The places is fabulous.  Bill describes it as a boutique casino; with only 300 rooms, it caters to the local well-to-dos in nearby Henderson.  So much for that.  But here’s hoping the place makes it.  It’s simply gorgeous.  I can’t think of a nicer place in Vegas to throw away my money (PS I’m getting nothing for this plug). Tuesday— In LA for about 24 hours.  Left my hoodie on a seat at McCarran, goddamn it. Was a damn good hoodie.  Not the kind of crap Belichick wears.  

week and played a football game.  One of the state schools out in Oregon and some other school down in Alabama. Don’t right know where these kids all got the money to come together and meet to play a game of football, but these college kids usually got some money lyin’ about.  It’s why they’re college kids I suppose. Where’d you say it was? Arizona? Hmm, maybe they planned it around their winter break or something. Anyway, these students got together and played a football game, and that’s nice.  But the funny thing is, apparently they were all riled up about it being important for settling who’s the best. I find that kinda odd. I mean, there ain’t no great rivalry between the states of Oregon and Alabama, not so far as I know, so that can’t explain it. And after all, they’re just a bunch of students running around out there, so it’s not like they could be very good at it.

be hosting a playoff game.  To me, that’s like saying Rod Blagojevich really needed to get a better toupee.  Yeah, sure, whatever.  No.  Rod Blagojevich really needed to not be the goddamn governor of Illinois. Seattle shouldn’t be hosting a playoff game because of their sub-.500 record?  Wake up!  The Seattle Seahawks should not even be in the post-season.  They are losers. Losers. They lost more games than they won.  That makes them the opposite of winners.  That makes them certified losers.  And I don’t care if they get slaughtered by five touchdowns or go on to win the Super Bowl.  The bottom line is that they do not deserve the

It seems to me a tradition grounded in a mature acceptance of humanity’s shortcomings, of embracing failure while holding our heads high.  I’m proud of us for having the courage to know deep down that there’s no way in hell we’re losing 10 lbs. this year, yet at the same time mustering the poetry and grace to perform a ritual that says, Hell yeah, we’re gonna do it! Because it’s not about the naivete of doomed aspirations; it’s about the bold lies that give us hope and grant us dignity.