Light and hearty observations from a fat and ugly guy. Home of hackneyed drivel and ersatz-existentialist effluence. Choleric biliousness a specialty, since 1958.

Vuck Vegas

Jeez, do I hate Las Vegas. One week here! Accck.
I don't gamble, I can't stand golf, I hate effing floor shows, and I don't screw hookers. What's left, you ask?

Not a blessed thing.

Save getting to people watch some of the most disgusting, decrepit, grotesque excuses for human beings--all God's children, mind you, but still--as they waddle around the 25 cent slot machines hoping to be able to, once home in Helena or Houston or Hellhole, brag on how they strode up to that one armed bandit and dammit, they beat the house!

Assholes.

As a rule, people suck, but especially here, in the Devil's playground. There's likely not a more horrifying collection of wasted protoplasm walking the earth than those I saw just moments ago out in the hot sun on the strip taking up the entire sidewalk whilst debating thus: "Should we go across the street to the Mirage? Or should we go up the street to the Frontier?". Back and forth, when it's all the bloody same! Everything is identical, except for the stupid fake "themes" the hotels perpetrate on visitors. Every place has roulette and blackjack and fat overflowing over the shorts slagheap twats from Omaha wandering around just, um, unsure about whether or not they can REALLY AFFORD to waste $5 on on the nickel slots. Help me make a choice, Vanna, I don't know what to do!!!!

So you've got a bunch of.....farmers....hanging around this city-cum-amusement park for autistic douchebags. As if that's not enough, these Nevadans then just gotta pile it on. A truth: Wisconsin has NOTHING on Vegas when it comes to cheese. All varieties, stinking it up right here on Las Vegas Boulevard. Example: there's a hotel designed to look like...New York! Complete with the Statue of Liberty! There are even scheduled muggings nightly at 10 in their recreation of Central Park! But that's not all--no, not by a long shot. Seems that many of the people who stay in this hotel are.....wait for it.....New Yorkers! That's right. They fly 5 hours to pay $250 a night to stay in a place that's EXACTLY LIKE HOME. I kid you not.

Want more? Ok: extra proof the world is coming to an end: I can choose to go see Celine Dion tonight....or, maybe I'll take in a rousing new Broadway comedy set to the music of Freddy Mercury. Celine Dion is, well, Canadian, and I hated Queen before ol' Freddy kicked over from too much spam in the can (look it up and then you'll figure it out). Why in the world I'd pay $50 or more to see a sorry imitation of what I didn't like in the first place is a mystery only Vegas-ites can solve for me. We will rock you indeed.

So maybe I'll just stay in my hotel room, rocking back and forth.

More ruminations later. But the headline says it all: Vuck Vegas. Oh, lest I forget: buff my scrotum.

posted by Nigel St.John Regina Smegmatica Howle-Raines @ 7:29 PM