Get Off My Desert Lawn!

Tag: Las Vegas

  • Full-Circle Failure Pt. 2

    After graduating, I admit I couldn’t take defeat. I still tried to be a screenwriter. I knew a few people in “the industry” but there’s something about the Hollywood type. Their style of arrogance annoys me.

    On a quick sidenote, I went to Universal Studios the last March and our tour guide said “the industry” and I almost puked.

    Then I felt bad because I saw myself in that tour guide 20 years ago.

    Fast forward to today. It has been roughly a month since I quit my job as an Assistant Cage Manager for a Las Vegas strip casino. It wasn’t a bad job. It was easy actually, and it paid well. The problem was, like most people, I worked for a group of idiots. The level of mismanagement was too much to take. Not surprisingly, these higher ups all knew each other and were friends.

    One can only stay on a sinking ship for so long. If I didn’t jump off when I did, I would have died. I am not going down with something I don’t believe in.

    I will say I learned an extremely valuable lesson. Casino work is very similar to Hollywood, which is very similar to USC.

    If I learned anything from USC, it’s that I don’t have the required attitude to be a Trojan. I don’t need to be in the alumni magazine showing off what great accomplishments I’ve achieved. Hell, I don’t even tell anyone I went to USC unless someone tries to show off first.

    Just to be clear I can’t speak for other schools at USC. I can only speak from my experience.

    Hollywood was no different than college. Yes, I wanted to break in, but I didn’t have the Hollywood attitude either. I wasn’t better than anyone else, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to degrade myself just to have a shot.

    It took me twenty-two years of casino work to realize I didn’t have the attitude to become a casino VP. My nose points level to the ground, not up in the air, and I don’t take pleasure in asking employees if they know who I am. It’s almost like becoming a VP means you got a gold sticker. Now it’s time to show it off.

    Life is funny because I could easily get on YouTube or any other social media platform and make videos on Vegas and what to do/not to do in a casino and probably have millions of views.

    But I reckon being an influencer would be the same as casino work.

    I don’t have the attitude for what would come with going viral. I know what I want now.

    I want to stay in the shadows and bet horses. I can succeed at that. I can make a lot of money at it, and I have the perfect attitude for it.

    I don’t care what anyone thinks about me. I can dress in clothes full of holes and still hit a six figure pick 6. I don’t have to show off what I’ve won because it doesn’t matter to anyone but me.

    Money comes and goes, just like fame and fortune. It sucks if I have a bad day at the track, and it can be very humbling. But there’s always tomorrow, and one good day is all it takes.

    The same can’t be said for falling out of the public eye. Hollywood stars, influencers, business executive can lose everything in the blink of an eye.

    For me, failing was the best thing that could happen to me. I can study races in my pajamas if I choose. I don’t though. I’m a professional.

    I wear work sweats.

    Failure – you don’t exist. Me – for the win

    Oh yeah, and fight on! 🙂

  • Full-Circle Failure Pt. 1

    I am not famous. I am not a billionaire. I am not a business executive. I am not an influencer.

    So what?

    I am my own man, who does what he wants, when he wants. Poor me.

    I recently received my quarterly copy of USC Trojan Family Magazine. It is a magazine put out for USC alumni to see how great their fellow Trojans are.

    One look at me, and it’s hard for a lot of people to believe me when I say I graduated from said school. I am not a stereotypical Trojan. Truth be told, I didn’t fit in when I went there. Just like today, I was the guy that didn’t fit the mold. They couldn’t kick me out because I was smart enough to get good grades (on my own), but I wasn’t exactly the guy you wanted to put front and center to show off the great things USC offered.

    The funny part is in high school I wanted to be a screenwriter. I worked my ass off to get accepted to USC. Getting accepted was one of the greatest moments of my life. Walking the beautiful campus gave me an extreme sense of pride.

    Like Hollywood though, I soon realized it was all a facade.

    My problem was I wanted to learn the craft of screenwriting. What I learned was everything was an audition. My first class was filled with connected kids. A few had film producer fathers. One was already a published author. I was impressed, as it should be.

    Until I read their work.

    I won’t get into details, but the funny part was at the end of the semester my professor called me into the office and told me she didn’t think I had what it took to be a writer. She gave me a B when I needed a B+ to advance to the next writing class.

    Failure – 1. Me – 0.

    As luck, or fate, would have it, I somehow ended up at Hollywood Park for their Friday night race program with my cousin. Hollywood Park was a thoroughbred racetrack that is now So-Fi Stadium. My cousin had just bought a book on beating the races and wanted to try it out. When we left, he had profited something like $7. I lost like $20.

    Failure – 2. Me – 0.

    Being the competitive jerk I am, I scoured multiple bookstores and bought every book on horseracing I could find. It wasn’t long before I wasn’t even going to class. I was at the track most days. I did show up to class on important days, like tests and report days. In the end, I graduated.

    Failure – 2. Me – 1.

    One hilarious note, or slap to my face, was the commencement speakers were George Lucas and Steven Spielberg.

    Draw. Failure – 2. Me – 1.

  • E-Death

    This topic is a big deal in Las Vegas. It seems a young person, anyone from a child to young adult, is getting killed almost every day. The cause? An e-bike or an e-scooter.

    It’s gotten to the point where I don’t even have to read the articles anymore. I see “e-bike” and already know what’s coming next.

    If I turn on the news, it’s the same thing. Only the news will go out and talk to an officer. They will then explain the importance of safety.

    Safety?

    How do you talk to someone who refuses to listen?

    Unfortunately, we live in a time where everyone can be seen, and everyone wants to. Everything is me, me, me. The world revolves around me and no one else.

    I’ve seen multiple kids on e-bikes and e-scooters ignore traffic and dart across streets without any regard for their own safety.

    When I was a kid, I had a ten-speed bicycle and one time I sped across my residential street and almost got hit by a car. That scared me enough to slow down and look both ways from that point on.

    While it’s easy for me to think ‘these kids need to get hit so they learn their lesson,’ the truth is I can’t because they have motors. All I had to propel myself were my legs.

    Should we make kids go to driver’s ed? Take a test? Get a license?

    It’s easy to say yes, but everything is always easier said than done.

    Tons of people that pass their driver’s test don’t drive the same way after their picture is taken. Myself included.

    Every Gen-X’er will tell you they did stupid shit as a kid, and a teenager, and a young adult. We were lucky though because whether we were alone, or with our friends, when we learned a lesson, we were able to walk away from it.

    Today, everything is automated to “make life easier.”

    That’s true. Today, you don’t need to learn.

    You live or you die.

  • The Invisible Tip Jar

    I went to the Pantera concert last night (8/29) here in Vegas. Great show. Side note – I was extremely impressed with Amon Amarth. In all my years I had never had a chance to see them. I liked them so much I actually bought a shirt after the show, and I never buy an opening act’s shirt.

    Which brings me to my annoyance.

    Tipping has gotten out of hand as everyone knows. Being from Vegas I understand tipping helps, and by no means am I a cheap tipper. Most times I tend to overdo it.

    BUT

    This was the second time this has happened. The first one being the Ghost show a few weeks ago.

    Last night I bought 4 shirts at $40 a piece, along with a poster and tote bag. $200 plus tax. My total bill was $278, as I was told.

    In years past, the shirt guy would turn his iPad around to show me the itemized receipt, then I would be offered a screen to ask if I would like to leave a tip.

    Now, there’s nothing shown. It’s take it or leave it, you’re holding up the line.

    Like I said, the same thing happened at Ghost. A little more – $280 – but only three shirts and a tote.

    What is one supposed to do? Wait in a Disneyland type line of people, then question everything at the end of the transaction?

    I’m all for tipping, but as far as I could see, neither place had a sign that said “Whatever percentage will be added to each transaction.”

    I’m just supposed to assume that the concert shirt tax rate in Clark County is now 50%?

    That’s how they get you to not question anything. Show was great. You’re pumped up. You want that $40 shirt.

    $100 please.

    No problem. Here’s my card.

  • Satan Has Sold Out

    I went to see the band Ghost this past weekend. For the uninitiated, Ghost is a metal band that used to pretend to worship the devil. I say used to because they are a far cry from their past.

    The lead singer used to dress up in Pope garb, complete with a skull mask. It was extremely creepy and cool at the same time. it was unique and scared a lot of people.

    Flash forward 11 years since I first saw them at the House of Blues in Las Vegas, and the “ritual” as the concert is called, had become a Broadway play.

    I have never seen a singer have so many costume changes in a “metal” concert in my life. No more Pope wear. Now it is glittery lounge jackets and a half mask that looks like he’s getting ready for Mardi Gras.

    I understand the old mask had to be extremely hard to wear, but the cool part about it was, as a Pope, Tobias Forge didn’t have to move around. He could simply use his hands in a religious manner. Now, he jumps around on stage and dances and shakes his butt. He also sings songs that sound like he stole them from the Bee-Gees.

    All in the name of Satan?

    I should have known I was in for something unexpected when I saw the type of crowd Ghost attracts now. No more “look at this guy. He looks like he sacrifices animals on the weekend.”

    Now it looks like Comic Con.

    The best part of the entire show was waiting in line for an hour because phones were not allowed. They have to get locked up in a pouch you can wear around your neck or shoulder. You then have to wait after the show so they can unlock it for you.

    It was a complete mess to say the least.

    I reiterate it was the best part because I now see why they don’t want anyone to film the show. While I am not a devil worshipper, I felt so bad for those that do. Watching T.F prance around on stage to rainbow lighting, I could only shake my head and think to myself

    Is this what the devil has become?

  • WAY-to-MO

    Yesterday, while stopped at Rancho and Sahara, I noticed a self-driving car to my right. What’s so exciting about that you ask?

    Absolutely nothing.

    What was exciting was the truck behind it.

    The Waymo car wanted to turn right onto Sahara but had the red light. Obviously, its programming said it wasn’t safe to turn yet. For most drivers it was obviously safe. I looked. There weren’t any cars coming. Still, the car didn’t move.

    Enter the truck moron.

    I’ll spare him the dignity of not describing him, but needless to say I don’t think they guy has ever read a word in his life.

    If anyone has ever seen a Waymo car before but DRIVERLESS CAR and CAR MAKES SUDDEN STOPS are plastered all over the back of the car.

    So, why would you honk at it?

    Not just once, but multiple times.

    As soon as we got the green light, the honker peeled away from the Waymo car and sped off. I couldn’t help but think that this scholar is one of those guys that weaves in and out of traffic only to meet everyone he’s passed at the same red light.

    Everyone should know that the quickest distance between two points is a straight line, not a high-speed crab walk.

    That’s something you learn in school.

    I’m starting to think that when you get pulled over, the cop should ask for license, registration, and diploma.

    Then again, driving should be fun, and we could all use a good laugh every now and then.

    Thank you Waymo!

  • Brain Dead

    I went to the Weird Al concert this past weekend. I’ve never seen him perform before. While he is extremely entertaining, there was a part of the show where I had to stop and wonder.

    Not wonder about what song he was making fun of, or why I had never gone to one of his shows before. I had to wonder about me.

    When it was time to sing FAT (Michael Jackson’s BAD), Weird Al came out in a fat suit complete with a fat mask. If you’ve seen DODGEBALL, Weird Al’s face looked exactly like Ben Stiller at the end of the movie, when he’s eating chicken.

    Since coming on to the music scene, Weird Al has always been a symbol of harmless fun. While I don’t follow his career closely, I’ve never seen or heard him say anything disparaging about anyone. I don’t even know what political party he sides with.

    So, what’s the problem? Is it that Weird Al was in an outfit that was four times his body size, singing about fat people?

    No.

    The problem was that as soon as he came on stage, I thought OH SHIT.

    Twenty, thirty years ago I would have been laughing my ass of at his theatrics. Instead, all I could think of was how many people he was going to piss off.

    That’s when I realized I was brain dead.

    Millennials, Gen Z, the woke, cancel culture, stupidity, whatever you want to call it, has obviously embedded itself in my brain. As much as I make fun of those groups, they have a tight grip on my head.

    While I should be amazed at how skillful Weird Al is in a fat suit, I’m looking around the audience to see if anyone is shaking their head.

    I felt like I had lost the battle.

    The funny part is I didn’t feel bad for me. I felt bad for Weird Al.

    While I hope to God I’m wrong, I know there will be many more who watch the song the way I did. No one is ever alone in their thinking. All I can do is hope no one says anything because that’s when the trouble starts.

    Unfortunately, someone, somewhere will.

    It’s a shame we can’t just enjoy comedy for what it is. Or anything for that matter. What pisses me off the most is that subconsciously I’ve allowed the stupidity to take control of my brain.

    Has my independent thinking gone by the wayside?

    Am I brain dead?