Pay taxes, that is. Two Indiana racinos are pushing back against a tax rate that averages 38%. Considering that the two tracks -- one run by Cordish Gaming -- are the newbies on the Hoosier State scene, one could fairly ask them, "Didn't you know what you were getting into?" As the article notes, neither Harrah's Entertainment and Boyd Gaming -- both which recently heavily reinvested in Indiana -- aren't whining about their tax rates.

But the racinos have a point. In states where the number of casinos is artificially capped by the Legislature, solons become the custodians of the industry's economic future, like it or not. And it only stands to reason that if the market is going be diluted, tax relief is in order. Considering that same-store revenues in Indiana have been nothing but down since the racinos opened, some push-back on the tax front was probably inevitable.

Hell no, they won't either. Allow casinos in Penghu, that is. Voters on the Taiwanese island voted against gambling expansion there, putting the issue off-limits for three years. The notion of planting mega-million-dollar casinos in remote, hard-to-reach parts of Taiwan never made that much sense to S&G, but big industry players like Sheldon Adelson and Gary Loveman have kicked Taiwanese tires in the recent past.

Did Adelson and Steve Wynn mistime their leap into the Hong Kong stock market? One Wall Street Journal columnist thinks so. Bad timing isn't the exclusive province of the public sector, though: A Washington State tribe borrowed $375 million on the strength [sic] of revenue forecasts that proved grossly over-optimistic. Percentage-wise, neither Harrah's nor Station Casinos missed the mark this badly.

Bob Stupak, R.I.P. The penultimate Vegas maverick is gone, having spent much of the last decade as a recluse. One especially thorough obit contains a quote by former Klondike owner John Woodrum that ought to be engraved on Stupak's gravestone (or at the base of that now-vanished Stupak statue): "If ever there was a guy beyond the rim of reality, there was Bob. But somehow he made reality happen."

Just what we don't need. They're baaaaack. Never mind the smoking wreckage they've made of Harrah's and Station, private-equity firms are rooting amidst the flotsam, looking to extend their morbid clamp on the casino industry. Leading the pack is Leon Black's inaptly named Apollo Management. Both indirectly (Planet Hollywood by way of Harrah's) and directly (Cosmopolitan, Fontainebleau), Black is reported to be scarfing up what few independent properties remain, raising the prospect of a Total Rewards oligopoly stretching from just above CityCenter to the southern frontier of the The Mirage.

There are also a few bottom-feeders in play. Hooters hardly seems worth buying unless Onex Corp. wants to do a tear-down and extend the Tropicana Las Vegas eastward. Current ownership of the Riviera is tapped out but the place still has prospects as a fixer-upper (not something that fits with Apollo's sack-and-pillage business model). If non-bottom-feeder Green Valley Ranch is really on the bubble of insolvency, then Penn National Gaming ought to quit chasing F'bleau, and try to drive a wedge betwixt Station and its Greenspun family partners. Penn would stand to inherit a beautiful property with far fewer problems than Big Bleau.