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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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Murder and itchy teeth.

Some situations remind you exactly why waterboarding was created.

There is nothing more annoying than a grown-up talking baby-talk.

And the extreme level of my annoyance and itchy molars has nothing to do with not having had my coffee yet.

At least I think it doesn’t.

Maybe.

But when a grown man begins whispering baby-talk into his iPhone, in line at Starbucks, ahead of me, I begin to realize what the inventor of the taser had in mind, someone in massive pain, shitting themselves, with no permanent damage.

At least, that is what this moment makes me hope he envisioned.

“No-no-no-no, I wuv yu tu muchie.”

This was said out loud, where other adults could hear it.

Are you fucking kidding me?

And just to put a little stank on this sin, HE HELD UP HIS FINGER TO HAVE THE CASHIER WAIT WHILE HE SAID IT!

I don’t care what consenting adults do in the privacy of their own home, but don’t get between me and my coffee.

I will pull a “Java Coyote” on you and chew thru your arm to get to my coffee.

This seems extreme, but I made my peace with random heinous acts in the name of addiction a long time ago.

I finally got my order in and because I just get a house drip, they give it to me immediately instead of making me wait for the barrista to make it, so I don’t have to wait like the proles at the end of the counter.

I am peacefully cream and sugaring my fix when it starts back up.

“No-no-no-no yu gots to hung up first, sweetie-weetie”

He dropped his voice a touch out of some sort of sense of decency.

Maybe his parents are still alive or something. (And not that he is afraid to embarrass them, but that they will feel they have to do the right thing and put him down, like an honor killing or something.)

I am not one for the silent praying for a random gang beating in a Starbucks, but I realize that I have been doing just that for the last 5 minutes.

And the reality of it all is that his crime is not that huge in the grand scheme of things, but it hits a nerve that is lodged deep in my cerebral cortex. (That part of the brain that controls rage and swampass)

And sometimes you have to go with your instincts.

Primordial man had a reason for seeing the guy that lived in the cave next door, recognizing the beginnings of the pox and beating him to death at the water hole to protect the safety of the community.

I am ok with that.

Same thing here.

Unfortunately, there is a societal taboo about murder as a method of correcting annoying behavior.

Go figure.

Fine, have it your way, society.

But I know I am not alone on this one.

There will come a time that the percentage of cringing swampass will get high enough that some sort of atrocity at a major coffee house chain somewhere.

Part blog, part prophet.

Discuss.

 

 
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Posted by on March 18, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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Its better to look good than to feel good.

Murder can be sexy.

Fur is loudly screamed about by animal rights activists as being murder.

Mainly because it is.

But so is eating meat, and according to scientists – eating vegetables, and just about anything else we do to stay alive on this planet. (Studies have shown that vegetable matter emits an electrical pulse when plucked from vine or main plant, much akin to a scream. So vegetarians and vegans are filthy murderers like the rest of us.)

But here is part of the problem, fur is just so damn sexy.

Here is a test:

Doesn’t matter if you are a man or woman, just do this.

Imagine a celebrity that you find sexually attractive.

Now imagine them naked, in a seductive pose.

Its hot, right? Works for you?

Now imagine them wrapped in snow white fur.

Just got a little hotter in here, right?

That is why it will never go away entirely.

It has been on the decline for a few years, but I just read an article that shows that fur dealers are showing a huge increase in demand.

Thank god.

Perhaps the day will come that I can go to a steakhouse and be served an 18oz ribeye by a buxom waitress clad only in a floor length mink. (As far as masturbatory fantasies go, this one is a half notch above staying after class to help the playboy substitute teacher “Clap the erasers”.)

Maybe not, but it is still intriguing.

But what led us here?

Lizzy.

Lizzy is a twenty something airhead from an affluent side of the beach cities.

Her friend, who’s name is unknown at this time, comes from the same hood.

And the only reason I know Lizzy’s name?

Because her friend keeps repeating it.

The friend, let’s call her Whiny for lack of anything better, was already in the beach area Starbucks when Lizzy arrived.

Whiny has been sipping a $10 incredibly difficult coffee drink and texting like it will cure cancer since she arrived.

(I was here when she arrived. I am always here, I am not sure I ever leave.)

Lizzy came in wearing a beautiful outfit that nicely showed off her figure.

And a white mink shrug.

The fur took a beautiful girl and cranked her up into bombshell.

Whiny’s first, second, third and fourth comments:

“Lizzy?!?!” (When she saw the shrug)

“Lizzy!” (When Lizzy asked if she liked it.)

“Lizzy!!!” (When Lizzy snuggled her cheek into the fur and said it was real)

“Lizzy!” (With a condemning and envious head shake as she ran her hand along the fur.)

I have often mentioned that I have a hard time imagining a girl young enough that I might have fathered her to be sexually attractive to me. It is an intellectual thing. My mind shuts down the primal reaction.

But, Lizzy in white mink? Primal has tied up intellectual in the basement and will let him out only after the orgy is over.

That is pretty sexist, misogynistic and a few other things, but it is what it is.

One of the biggest mistakes of modern society is that we try to ignore that we are animals at the top of the food chain, and there is primal baggage that comes with that rise to power.

We are a picky bunch of Omnivores. (Look it up.)

We need to accept that existence causes an even balance of pluses and minuses.

Quit hammering one group because the deaths they cause are not as bad as, in you opinion, the deaths you cause. (Deny that one all day if you like, if you’re being honest, you are agreeing. Disagreement only means you’re dumb.)

Keep in mind, as I say this, a waitress just brought me my ham and eggs.

Not the best choice for a strict vegetarian, but what are you gonna do?

 

 
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Posted by on January 22, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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