Tag Archives: drugs

What happens in Vegas may haunt you forever.

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

I personally hate that phrase, this despite the fact that there appears to be some truth to it. 

But let me posit the idea that perhaps your behavior should be kept under control so it doesn’t take an entire city, a modern day Sodom and Gamora to handle your shit. (Gamora or Gomorrah? One is the fabled vile city and the other is the hot green chick from Guardians of the Galaxy)

Although, you do have to admit that access to an entire city where you can cut loose and show your ass a bit definitely sounds like a stress reliever. 

Like a city version of a service dog that helps you “Keep calm”. (How about you just learn to deal with emotions instead of being hand held like half a tard all your adult life?)

Either way, I am in Vegas for the weekend. 

I like Vegas because of its honesty in declaring that it exists to take your money. (And if you think you don’t live in a city that is lying thru its teeth about how badly it wants your money, I have a land deal I would like you to invest in, dumbass.)

But I also love Vegas for the time honored activity of people watching.

For those of us who like to watch others, Vegas is a Mecca of sorts.

There are 5 types of people to see in Vegas. 

  1. The first is the Total Tourist. They take pictures of everything, see as many shows as they can and can tell you who is headlining at every casino. They are your safest of the Vegas people to be around.
  2. The second is the Party Tourist. At a minimum, they are drunk all the time. At their worst, they are on a vile cocktail of alcohol, chemicals and natural supplements that makes them a ticking time bomb, just waiting to explode. 
  3. Number three is the sly gambler. This guy always has a scheme to take the casino for big dollars. Its like watching an amateur going against a pro. The casinos have been rocking this game for half a century and rarely, if ever, lose. The casinos are a lot like a bear toying with a raccoon. Eventually it gets tired and smashes its living toy into the dirt. Many a sly gambler go home broke with a badly broken hand as a reminder to stay out of a particular establishment.
  4. Four is the regular local. They work for some component of the gambling establishment. These range from dealers, pit bosses, waiters/waitresses, security, clerks, cashiers, support and last but not least is the regular citizen. (Regular citizens live nearby, eat at the buffet and gamble a touch and they are SO not feeling your over the top party vibe.)
  5. Dark Vegas People. These are your drug dealers, human dealers, illegal fight club admissions and illegal high stakes gambling hosts. These are the guys to avoid like the plague. They are much more than you think and what you’re used to back home. (And they bury a lot of people out in the desert.)

All in all, you can have an amazing time in Vegas, as long as you realize that you: A. Are not “The MAN” and B. No, you don’t “Have this shit covered.”

Just keep your head down, have fun, be safe, and go home in one piece, a few dollars left, no STDs or one step ahead of a “Fixer” that wants to buy your girlfriend.

Now, be a good kid and go play.

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Posted by on January 26, 2020 in Uncategorized


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Working that shit 9 to 5

Lizzie is a working girl.

Correction, Lizzie WAS a working girl. (And if you are unsure of the meaning of the term “Working girl”, take a second and google it. Otherwise, a lot of this makes no sense.)

I was sitting in one of my favorite Starbucks near my house.

It’s one of the larger Starbucks. About a dozen small tables, and about another dozen barstool with a long shelf spots.

But the busiest section is a 15’ long chain of tables. Holds about 20 people and is always full.

I am at the big table and the crowd is perfect. 

A few odd personalities to write about, but everyone being quiet and doing their own thing.

And then Lizzie sat down. 

“My name is Lizzie.” She looked straight ahead as she spoke smiling. (Typically, when someone says anything beyond “Are you in line?” Or “Are you using that chair?”, there is usually a pitch for money not far behind.)

Lizzie was one a very pretty young lady. Emphasis on the word WAS. Life and it appears to be drugs have aged her fast. There is a tweaker vibe that surrounds her like one of those weighted blankets. Heavy, constricting.

No one said anything. 

“I used to do drugs and escort, but I don’t do any of that anymore. I am sober and trying to get my life together.”

And, no one said anything. (Basically the same protocol as a bear coming into camp but without the falling to the ground to play dead. We all just sat there, playing dead and avoiding eye contact.) 

She went on to tell all of us everything she is up to in her efforts to stay sober.

It suddenly occurred to me that Lizzie is full of shit and tweaking as we speak.

Finally, she wound down and got to the point. 

“Could you gentlemen spare a few dollars to help someone trying to do better?” (When I begin guessing, I am shockingly correct most of the time.)

As far as lines go, its a strong one. I haven’t seen this pitch before. (You could fill an old school set of encyclopedias with the amount of cheap pitch’s for money that are out there.)

I ponied up a couple of dollars, just in case karma is paying attention on a Saturday.

The guy next to me had been scowling the whole time and his scowl only deepened.

Finally, he sighed and reached into his wallet, pulling out a few bills. 

One of them that I could see was a twenty dollar bill. (Now I feel bad for giving just a few dollars.)

He held them up for Lizzie to see.

“My van is right outside.” (Now I don’t feel bad for giving just a few dollars.)

“Yeah, ok.” Lizzie smiled and pretty much bolted for the door, followed by her “John”.

Huh, go figure. 

The guy who had been sitting next to “John” reached into his jacket and pulled out a buzzing cell phone. 

“Hey Lonnie, what’s up?” Even quiet speech carries indoors.

“Naw, just me, Kennie is in his van screwing Lizzie again.” (Switching gears, “John” is now Kennie.)

Lonnie must have asked about Kennie.

“Nope, they always get high after, he’s useless for the rest of the day.”

More conversation I can’t hear.

“I’m leaving here, I’ll meet you there.”

With that, he was up and out the door. Maybe not as quickly as Lizzie abandoned her sobriety and rejoined the working class, but fast enough.

I heard on the news that the economy is booming and people are going back to work.

In more ways than one.


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Posted by on December 29, 2019 in Uncategorized


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That flash of brilliance

There is a really dumb theory that truly creative minds gravitate to drug use.

This little treasure of ignorance is always spouted off by someone who uses it to defend their idol.

Jimmy Hendrix, John Belushi and Kurt Cobain are the 3 sacred cows they like to trot out.

But here is the key.

I have never, ever, heard this theory trotted out by anyone who: A. Had an advanced degree. And B: Has a successful career.

You will never see all three of those together. Just saying.

But, this whole argument leads me to the little scene going on in front of me.

Using the argument from the sentences about, 2 of the most creative men ever to walk the planet are sitting on the patio of a Starbucks.

And these two genuses stink like someone dipped them in shit.

But the shining brilliance makes that ungodly BO bearable.

And what is the subject of our little think tanks roundtable today?

“If Bill Gates drops a $100 bill, he will lose money if he takes the time to stop and pick it up.”

Its like being in the presence of Stephen Hawking if he was being gang raped by Einstein.

(Personally, there is no way Einstein could maintain an erection with that kind of BO. Can’t be done.)

I know I am setting myself up for a bunch of whiny emails from the social justice warriors who will throw out the same tired catch phrases. “Walk a mile in his shoes, you don’t know what has gone on in his life… blah blah frickin blah.”

First of all, I would not be caught dead in those shoes.

Second of all the logic is something teenagers would come up with.

And slow teens at that.

I have never smoked meth or blown a dealer in an alleyway, but I am more than a little sure I would not like it.

Moving on.

The thing that keeps bringing me back to these two is that there is a specific spot that Bill would need to be dropping Franklins.

Creative genius number one has repeatedly smacked the same spot on the ground.

“Right here, right Fuxxxxx here.” Smack! “If Bill Gates dropped a $100 right here, he wouldn’t pick it up, couldn’t pick it up, he would lose money just doing it!”

And it wasn’t even an argument, they were agreeing with each other for the better part of an hour.

And here is the take away from this entire meth-fueled Algonquin Round-table:

Sometimes creative people do drugs.

And sometimes, smelly dipshits do drugs.

And it probably isn’t a good idea for either one.

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Posted by on March 25, 2016 in Uncategorized


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Meth heads, natures little clowns.

There comes a point in every man’s life where he has to take a second and figure out if he is a douche or not.

Some of you are wrinkling your nose right now and your lips are compressed into a disapproving line.

But, I have given it several minutes of thought and rewritten that line 3 times before I arrived at douche.

It fits and its funny (To me), therefore, its what we in the business call Golden.

To be a douche or not a douche, that is the question.

And a good one at that.

There are two young men sitting at the next table who are pondering that very issue.

They are not phrasing it that way, but that is the question.

Here is what they are deciding:

One of them is selling what sounds like a crappy car to a friend of his.

And the guy at the table, who sounds like a friend of the other guy who is buying the car, wants to buy the same car.

To them, it may be a simple thing. Just sell it to the friend at the table, instead of the other guy. Simple.

Not so.

Here is where the douche thing comes in.

This is a part of those formative years, where a man finds out about what kind of man his is going to be, step by step, and this is one of those steps.

You may think this is minor, but what is at stake is this guys word, and how it will be viewed by himself and those around him for the rest of his life.

If you squint your eyes and take the blurry view, this is an epic scene of the formation of morality going on at the next table.

Of course if you take the straight on, clear as day view of this, its two punk kids conspiring to burn some jagoff they know.

View it how you will.

There is always the chance that this will mean nothing in the long run.

Maybe. Maybe not. However, for the sake of the blog, lets say it does.

Depending on what this unwashed weasel decides to do, could set in motion a whole series of events that will last until he is dead and buried.

If I were just to judge by the slack look on his face, the friend that is not here is about to get screwed out of a car.

This could lead to a hostile situation at school, turns out the burned car buyer has a huge cousin that goes to the same school. Big kid, a little slow, love cats and has a talent for beating the shit out of people.

So the car seller starts ditching school to avoid the looming ass whooping that is waiting for him at the hands of the modern day Lenny. (Steinbeck)

And that leads to his being expelled for excessive absences. His parents will find out too late to do anything.

He goes to work at some no name burger joint near downtown, because that is the only place that will hire him without the HS diploma.

It pays minimum wage, but the assistant manager always has good weed, so it works out.

His big brake comes when the cashier is deported and he gets to move up, but on the same night, the assistant manager tells him how he can make big money, driving a van back from Mexico.

By the time he gets out of prison, he is 40 years old. (That speech was stolen wholesale from John Cusak in The Sure Thing. Well worth the plagiarism.)

And, his partner in crime is going to be the little dipshit at the table with him right now.

And their drug of choice for all of these little misadventures?


Meth heads, natures little clowns.

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Posted by on January 27, 2014 in Uncategorized


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