You can't play poker for money on the Internet but you can now play the ponies in Illinois via the Web. This is yet another example of legally enshrined hypocrisy under UIGEA, the parting gift of "Slick Billy" Frist and Jim Leach to the American people. (Speaking of Dr. Frist, M.D., if we must, he just sat like a bump on a log when Bill Maher stupidly railed against the swine-flu vaccine last week. Thanks, doc.)

Setting Sun? The incoming chief of the Mohegan tribe is saying the right things about the imminent need for diversification. Specifics, however, are few on the ground. Mohegan Sun, meanwhile, finds itself between several rocks and hard places: potential competition from Massachusetts and Long Island, $1 billion in debt, falling revenues and the economic inability to finish planned improvements. Depending on how quickly Massachusetts gets its act together, Mohegan's moment in the sun could soon pass.

You've heard of "pocket pool," now the Review-Journal's intrepid Howard Stutz reaches deep into the demimonde of PocketCasino, the new, portable sports-betting technology in play at Venetian/Palazzo. No word yet on whether excessive play causes blindness or hair growth on one's palms.

(Seriously, as a longtime skeptic of Cantor Gaming's portable-gambling applications, I have to say it looks like the Cantor boys have come up aces this time. As for handheld substitutes for table games, the jury is still out on that, four years after their legalization.)

Fontainebleau Las Vegas from Running Bull Productions on Vimeo.

Pennies for F'bleau. What's Fontainebleau worth? Jack shit, according to Penn National Gaming (aka, 15 cents on the dollar). In return, Penn is willing to accept a 10% return on investment ... provided it can bring the project in a no more than $1.5 billion (not counting the billions already spent and written off).

This remains an iffy proposition, in part because it's predicated on increased profitability at Penn's patchwork assemblage of casino properties. Those have to be welded into a Harrah's Entertainment-like loyalty program that drives visitors to Las Vegas. This is a huge "if," as Penn currently has no casinos in major destination markets, unless you stretch that to include recently singed Empress Joliet. Bringing customers to Vegas or even Atlantic City is terra icongnita for Penn.

To put it bluntly, Penn was a third-tier operator -- mainly of racinos -- that "married up" by taking over Argosy Gaming, the classiest of the riverboat operators. However, the Vegas market is notoriously unforgiving of new-to-town operators and Penn will have a very steep learning curve. Also, Penn is not associated with upscale properties, so F'bleau will either have to be repriced downward to reflect the Penn customer base or may need to offer promotional allowances up the ying-yang (more likely both).

If that weren't sufficient cause for concern, Penn's oft-brandished $1.5 billion (the breakup fee from an ill-advised and abortive LBO) is covering multiple bets. Penn is the primary mover behind a pro-casino ballot initiative in Ohio -- partly to protect its Hollywood Lawrenceburg investment just across the border in Indiana. It also recently bought out Cordish Gaming in hopes of getting piggybacked onto the Kansas Speedway casino license, should the Sunflower State's lottery board approve.

At least Penn is working on ways to trim the completion price of F'bleau. Costs to date -- and projected ROI -- being what they are, it behooves Penn CEO Peter Carlino to get this rampaging beast under some semblance of control.

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Only $14 million in cash (plus a $100 million equity infusion), according to The Donald. Bondholders say, we'll see your $115 million and raise you $100 million. The latter would recoup at least some -- but not very much -- of their $1.25 billion debt under their plan, while Das Trump would send them away virtually empty-handed. (Moral: When Donald Trump asks you for a loan, take a page from Nancy Reagan and Just Say No.)

The bondholders' assignment of a $75 million valuation to Trump Marina seems awfully optimistic for what is, in essence, a corpse that can't be sold. In essence, the real value proposition is resurgent Trump Taj Mahal, with the other two casinos scarcely better than throw-ins. The Marina is, if anything, an albatross around the company's neck. Still, given that CEO Mark Juliano is going to exceptional lengths to champion the Trumpster's bid, which is a big "screw you" to the debtholders, here's hoping Judge Judith H. Wizmur holds firm for a more responsible solution.

Ho: No! "I don't see major resorts opening for the next couple of years now," says Lawrence Ho. thereby raining pessimism on the expansion plans of Las Vegas Sands, Wynn Resorts and Galaxy Entertainment. The younger Ho also speculates upon the Chinese government's motivation for throttling, then somewhat relenting upon travel to Macao. Interesting tidbit: Marketwatch.com reports that "Venetian Sands" [sic] has cut its number of table games by 25%.

Nevada revenues in. And yeah, they suck. They're much less sucky than usual (-9%), showing an upward trend in baccarat plus two locals-oriented bright spots in the form of Aliante Station and M Resort. It's unclear, though, how much of the growth generated by the last two is new business vs. redistribution of dollars from elsewhere in the valley. The Sun's analysis is far more informative than that found in the R-J.

Wait 'til next year. That's the timeline for casinos in Massachusetts. Even though western Mass looks like slim pickings, lawmakers will probably have to put a casino there just to get the bill onto the floor.

Penn bid falls. Lenders to bankrupt Fontainebleau won a small victory or two, as the judge overseeing the case seems determined to keep lead developer Jeffrey Soffer as far from the disposition of F'bleau as possible. (Soffer is both a debtor and creditor on the project.)

F'bleau, for its part, revealed that Penn National Gaming's offer is now "substantially less" than $300 million, but would include money to replace the windows that are reportedly falling off the building. (One more reason not to build a Strip megaresort tower flush against the "pedestrian realm.")

Groundbreaking today for the long-awaited SugarHouse casino in Philadelphia, under the shadow of a stick-it-to-SugarHouse tax that's been proposed in the Lege. Table games, meanwhile, might be off the table in the face of a $200 million lawsuit. You see, non-racino casinos are allowed to have 5,000 slots (in return for a $50 million fee). Small "resort" casinos -- known as "Category 3" -- only have to $5 million and get 500 slots (accessible only to guests). That's proportional, obviously, and seems fair.

However ... lawmakers want to tilt the playing field by giving Category 3 casinos 30% as many slots as, say, Rivers Casino or SugarHouse, instead of 10% ... and open those games to the general public, not just guests. Of course, the state can't go to the one existing Category 3 casino and ask for another $10 million -- can it? Casino operators are also solidly behind the GOP position on table games: $10 million upfront plus a 12% tax. But, unless House Dems completely capitulate, the gaming bosses are unlikely to get what they want, at least where the tax rate is concerned.

Penn whiffs again. Although Penn Nat'l was supposed to be a bidder in the bankruptcy auction for the Lone Star Park racino, it evidently didn't get into the action and the track went to the Chickasaw Nation for $27 million. (A lot less than Harrah's Entertainment paid to get into Ohio.)

Which means that if/when gambling is legitimized in Texas, the Chickasaws will have a double advantage (parimutuel + tribal status), while Penn will be looking at yet another missed opportunity. Penn's corporate strategy is a baffling alternation of rashness and hyper-caution.

In other tribal news, much-criticized National Indian Gaming Commission Chairman Phil Hogen is gone, thank God, and with him his new, more-restrictive Class II rules. Hogen was justly pilloried for attempting a rollback of hard-won gains in what games tribes could offer. His new rules reflected Bush administration paternalism toward tribes and while they're officially postponed for a year, I think it's safe to say they're dead.* No wonder Rep. Dan Boren (D-OK) is smiling. Watch out for that doorknob, Mister (Ex-)Chairman.

(* It's probable the same thing would have happened under a President McCain, as either candidate would have brought a more enlightened attitude to D.C.-tribal relationships.)

Supporters of video gambling are starting to push back in Illinois, at least in rural, conservative McHenry County. So far it's been the urban areas where this expansion of gambling hasn't been gaining traction.

A repeal of UIGEA continues to gain ground in the House of Representatives, even if it got pulled off the floor in the Senate. (Thanks for nothing, Harry Reid.) The money quote, literally, is a reference to an amendment Rep. Jim McDermott (D-WA) which would would specify that "corporate taxes owed on regulated Internet gambling activities are collected, as they currently are from the land-based casino industry." [emphasis added]

If that means what it implies, it would remove the spectre of industry-wide federal gambling taxation from the discussion and leave taxation to the states. If not, then the nose of the federal casino-tax camel is still sticking through the legislative tent. And you know where that leads.

We've seen a nationwide gaming tax get shot down during the Clinton administration but there are desperate times, obviously. Republicans like Mike Huckabee and Rep. Steve King (R-IA) have been looking to sock it to casinos at the federal level for some years now, so I fear it could have bipartisan support, should such a debate come to pass.

It's playoff time. A tired, flat-footed Minnesota Twins squad looked positively dreaful last night, flailing at outside pitches from C.C. Sabathia (if you couldn't reach that slider in the first inning, your arms aren't going to be any longer in the seventh, son). Cliff Lee made short work of the Colorado Rockies (besides, Jim Tracy can't win in the postseason), the St. Louis Cardinals look set to continue their tradition of postseason underperformance and my Anaheim Angels are forever reduced to a quivering heap of Jello in playoff games against the Boston Red Sox. Why am I having visions of brooms? 

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Any well-furnished casino that doesn't try to monetize its fine appointments is missing a revenue opportunity. However, it's one thing to covet the lovely furnishings of, say, the Sky Lofts at MGM Grand. It's quite another to check into a hotel room in a struggling Nevada market (hint: think blood-red aluminum siding) and see the following:

"Take A Little Something Home With You"

... followed by a list of prices for virtually everything that isn't nailed down. At the high end, you could pay $175 for a bed spread or $100 for a phone, while hand towels ($10), washcloths and pillow cases ($5) occupied the bargain end of the spectrum.

In between, you could drop $45 for a Lilliputian coffee maker or $25 for the TV remote. Since the TV was not for sale and remotes tend to be brand- and model-specific, you wonder who'd be fool enough to spring for that last item.

Not only is Casino X clearly desperate for anything on which it can turn a buck, it also has rather inflated ideas of the value of its appurtances. I can see paying $175 for an Encore bedspread, but Steve Wynn doesn't operate out in the sticks, if you get my drift. Oh, and Casino X might want to think about staffing up its players' club and check-in windows, if the length of the lines at both is a telling metric.

Harrahs' new BMOC. The incoming president of Harrah's Entertainment's Flamingo-centered bloc of casinos departs Indiana to rave reviews. Philanthropic, community-oriented and socially aware, Rick Mazer sounds like just what the doctor ordered for Vegas -- to say nothing of being someone upon whom we should keep close tabs.

Justice delayed. Employees of Station Casinos who may (or may not) have been short-changed in their paychecks, will just have to bloody well wait for their day in court, if Clark County District Court grants Station's request for "breathing room." Station is pleading hardship due to its current bankruptcy. Since the company has no one but itself to blame for being in Chapter 11, it's difficult to muster sympathy. But perhaps the judge will be of a more forgiving nature.

Don Marrandino's first coup. The newly installed boss of Harrah's Atlantic City casino quartet inks a new labor pact with Unite-Here. That was a piece of cake. Now, about those dealer-contract talks with the UAW ...

Meanwhile, back in Gary Loveman's 'hood ... You know those on-again, off-again Massachusetts casinos? Well, they're "off." Again. Not that there's any reason to rush, especially as the repeated delays lend additional borrowed time to struggling Foxwoods Resort Casino and Mohegan Sun.

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A reader drew my attention to this:

Or as the official Harrah's Entertainment press release reads:

"There have been more than 100 major conservation projects across Harrah's properties, from installing energy efficient indoor and outdoor lighting to reducing water consumption by hundreds of millions of gallons every year. In the past six years, the company has spent $60 million on energy conservation projects alone, averting more than 230 million pounds of carbon dioxide emissions annually ... Harrah's is the only major casino entertainment company to join EPA's Climate Leaders and Waste Wise programs, and the only company in the industry to win an EPA Environmental Quality Award."

Congratulations. Here's wishing that other casino companies follow Harrah's lead vis-a-vis Team Earth and other energy-saving, sustainable-development initiatives. However ...

... $10 million a year for energy conservation isn't even "a blimp on the radar" when it comes to Harrah's gargantuan annual budget. Heck, it's less than 2/3 of CEO Gary Loveman's compensation package for 2008 alone. Also, the message rings just a teensy bit hollow when it's delivered by a CEO who not only insists on living in Massachusetts -- and can become quite belligerent when the subject is raised -- but must therefore commute to and from Harrah's HQ by transcontinental jet. Kinda undercuts that energy-conservation thing, y'know.

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Bondholders of Station Casinos must have an infinite capacity for suffering. Either that or CEO Frank Fertitta III is such a virtuosic Pied Piper that they'll follow him anywhere. It's difficult to rationally explain why they're letting a superior offer from Boyd Gaming collect dust, opting instead for the umpteenth forbearance in six months.

Among the drawbacks to the "prepackaged bankruptcy" that Station is languidly pursuing are that it would leave current Station leadership in place, to say nothing of its enablers at Colony Capital. Also, once Colony's share of the promised $244 million in new equity is subtracted, what the Fertitta clan kicks in is likely to be chicken feed -- at least when compared to the half-billion clams various and sundry family members took out of the company during its catastrophic LBO.

S&G never, ever advocates violence ... but if Station's debtors are getting antsy, we'd completely understand if they took a cue from the Stewie Griffin collection method:

For "fake moustaches," mentally substitute "dog tracks in Massachusetts."

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So Station Casinos is kicking the tires of dog-racing tracks in Massachusetts (as is Boyd Gaming)? Greyhound races will soon -- but not soon enough -- be illegal in Massachusetts, although the Bay State Lege just gave them a two-year reprieve. So it's a life-or-death priority for those tracks that lawmakers baptize some racinos in Massachusetts, stat.

Boyd, at least, has access to the requisite financing. But what's Station doing poking around the Eastern Seaboard? There are two ways of looking at it. One: How can Station justify spending money in Massachusetts when it can't afford to make its existing creditors whole? Or: Station's Vegas-centric business model has contributed to the deep hole in which the company finds itself and any geographic diversification is welcome.

That's not to imply that one perspective cancels out the other, especially when Station needs every revenue stream it can tap ...

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My apologies for leaving regular readers high and dry on Thursday. I was KO'd by a viral infection of some sort. Between that and a couple of doses of Zicam, I spent most of the day drifting in and out of sleep. Amazingly, I managed to stay awake through the early part of a Dodgers/Padres game in which neither starting pitcher could find the strike zone with two hands and a flashlight (the first two innings took an hour to play), only to doze off as things became -- moderately -- interesting and each team overcame its aversion to scoring runs.

Wednesday's report on Sheldon Adelson's surprise appearance in Austin, prompted this reader reaction, posted here because it was devoured by LVA's Comment-Eating Server: Regarding Texas and Casino Gaming: IMO the reason North Texas and Oklahoma are so closely linked is because Texas  has strong beer and strong porn, and Oklahoma has Casino Gaming, and both sides are more OK with it than they want to admit.

Having taken note of Adelson's Texas peregrination, the Las Vegas Review-Journal said to Las Vegas Sands, in effect, "Show me the money!" (Adelson is promising to spend $2 billion-plus on a Dallas-area casino.) The company's response was that its current troubles "wouldn't impair its ability to invest in Texas, in large part because even if gambling is legalized there licenses wouldn't be up for grabs until at least March 2011."

So is Sands promising to have its financial house in order 23 months from now? We'll take that as a "Yes." (Don't forget that Adelson is also courting Massachusetts legislators in hopes of landing a casino deal in his native state.)

The Dallas Morning News, to its credit, did a little number crunching and -- at the end of its story -- poked a big hole in the revenue projections being made by Texas casino proponents. In essence, they're promising 3X-4.5X the amount of casino-tax lucre that Nevada pulls in, with only double the tax rate and a tiny fraction as many casinos. Uh-huh.

Then again, the poster boy for a Lone Star casino industry is the man who once crowed, "We could build 10 Las Vegas Strips over here [in Asia], there’s so much demand!" How's that working out?

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Not long ago, the Boston Globe sent a reporter to the Strip and this is some of what Matt Viser saw, from a story in Tuesday's edition ...

At 8:30 on Wednesday night at the Venetian, 18 of 36 card tables had not a single gambler sitting at it, leaving dealers with little to do. Inside the Palace Court Slots in Caesars Palace, there were two gamblers at about 100 machines.

At the Bellagio, where "Karma Chameleon" played lightly over the speakers, entire rows were empty, which some gamblers insist is because the casinos are stingy.

"I've never seen the slots so tight," said Roy Morey, 71, a retiree from Tucson who for the first time in 10 years wasn't planning to spring for show tickets. "Normally I'd gamble until 11 at night. Now we're finishing at 8 and going back to the room. We're just not winning."

One group of tourists walked along Las Vegas Boulevard last week lugging a bag of pretzels and five boxes of cereal from CVS back to their hotel, so they wouldn't have to eat out as much.

The guy standing outside Caesars Palace handing out passes to "exclusive" nightclubs has noticed the downturn: Tim Rusling used to make $5,000 a month working three days a week, and now he's making half the pay for twice the work. He said he also has lowered his standards, and he's handing the free passes to marginally attractive people he would have previously ignored.

When "marginally attractive" people are allowed into Strip nightclubs, you know true desperation has set into Sin City.

The jumping-off point for the story is Massachusett's on-again/off-again/on-again flirtation with casino gambling. Sheldon Adelson makes some noises about a megaresort where the Massachusetts Turnpike meets I-495. But who's he kidding? Not even himself. He concedes: "Will we do a slot parlor? Yeah. But we don't think that's in the best interest of the state of Massachusetts."

At least it's in the best interest of Las Vegas Sands ... which might be lucky if it can afford merely a slot parlor right now, bleeding money as it is in every direction. Remember, Adelson can't even finish his Sands Bethlehem project, which will enjoy a quintessentially Adelsonian soft opening in May, with the rest of it coming online Lord knows when.

"One has to wonder whether or not Massachusetts has let this train pass them by," says MGM Mirage's Alan Feldman on the Bay State's failed try at casino legalization last year. He may well be right, but that's far more of a reflection on the implosion of hyper-leveraged gaming corporations than on Massachusetts.

To put in another way, had suitors LV Sands and Harrah's Entertainment obtained the casino concessions they were pursuing a year ago, what are the odds those projects would have been shelved or outright canceled by now? It's a metaphysical certainty.

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Amidst all this fuss and furor over the leak of a month-old speech by Las Vegas Sands President William Weidner, we've been missing the real story. Or so it seems after a lightbulb belatedly flickered in my noggin last night.

The story isn't what Weidner said. It's who leaked it? And: Why now? The speech was given five weeks ago and its subject -- the presidential election -- is a long-moot point. But the interregnum has been rife with intrigue at Las Vegas Sands, whose corporate proceedings are starting to take on the appearance of a Guelph/Ghibelline throwdown in Olde Venice or what Weidner himself called "a junkyard dog fight."

The immediate outcome was the formation of a committe to mediate between Sheldon Adelson and his underlings, who were experiencing "a loss of confidence" in his dogal leadership. But, in addition to being on the opposite end of a tug of war with Adelson, Weidner also called for "more financial brainpower," which cannot have sat well with his aging boss, who has shown more than a little entrepreneurial brilliance in his lifetime.

If Weidner and Adelson are, as the Las Vegas Review-Journal reported, at daggers drawn, it might explain how a copy of Weidner's Anti-Defamation League speech found its way into pundit-at-large Jon Ralston's mailbox. Perhaps a pro-Adelson faction leaked it. Ralston regularly tweaks Adelson as "Gondolier Numero Uno" ... but if Adelson wanted to slip a shiv between the ribs of his in-house rival, Weidner, what better way of delivering the knife thrust than via Ralston, who has print, TV and Internet at his command and who's to go-to guy for political commentary on all things Nevadan?

Even on paper, the Weidner speech comes across as an angry, even inflammatory screed and it has the potential to seriously damage Weidner's chances of emerging as the post-Adelson public face of Las Vegas Sands. One of the Adelson's coveted markets is his home state of Massachusetts. Its governor, Deval Patrick, is a close friend of President-elect Barack Obama. How kindly will Patrick look upon receiving as emissary an Adelson lieutenant who subtly (and not so subtly) sought to draw links between the rise of Obama and that of Nazism? Weidner is now radioactive in the Bay State -- and possibly elsewhere, assuming Sands continues to pull out of its nosedive.

Weidner has done the seemingly impossible: Make Adelson look cuddly and reasonable by comparison. Which is why I don't think a speech mostly consisting of Internet cut-and-pastes and sweeping generalizations made its way into Ralston's hands by happenstance.

A few other, more innocuous possibilities suggest themselves. If the speech was simply meant to be read aloud, why is it replete with 24 (sometimes errant) footnotes? Perhaps, given the dimensions of Weidner's ego, he had it printed for dissemination to legions of like-minded fanboys.

Or maybe he intended to have it published somewhere. Except for local vanity press Liberty Watch, I can't think of a conservative magazine desperate enough to print a piece so emotive and lacking in intellectual rigor, something the Weekly Standard or National Review would spike without a moment's hesitation. I used to edit Chuck Muth's columns for the Las Vegas Business Press. A Muth fan I am not but, both as a historian and polemicist, Weidner isn't fit to carry Muth's laptop.

Back into the dark ages. Just when Las Vegas was pulling itself out of its 'cultural wasteland' status, comes a recession to knock us several years backward. The loss of Libby Lumpkin is particularly regrettable. For instance, she recently coaxed casino executives like Fontainebleau's Glenn Schaeffer and MGM Mirage CEO Jim Murren to lend parts of their art collections to the Las Vegas Art Museum. The result was a stimulating display of contemporary art. Frank Fertitta III likes to collect images of money, while younger brother Lorenzo's darker, more eclectic taste suggests that he's kind of messed-up ... but in a good way.

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Allow me to clarify.

The annual Global Gaming Expo is a great and good thing, bringing together industry members, vendors and academics from the four corners of the globe. You see the newest -- and oftimes the strangest -- products on offer. Many are all the more tantalizing for not having received regulatory approval -- placing them tantalizingly out of reach. I'll confess to a childlike fondness for the huge table game with the dome under which plastic horsies go 'round and 'round in a sort of mock Kentucky Derby. Silly, yes, and an absolutely pointless wager, but G2E doesn't stint on oddball entertainment value.

The sheer amount of brainpower that is directed into that outwardly frivolous activity known as "gambling" is an awesome sight to behold, especially when crammed into the Las Vegas Convention Center.

The conference tracks are an embarrassment of riches (especially when a speaker makes a particularly egregious faux pas). It's Sophie's Choice to the fourth power to have to select between panels sometimes. Heck, most times. And if there are any detractors of Native American casinos out there, if you subtracted the tribal attendance from G2E and many other industry conferences, they'd either be A) much smaller, B) ghost towns or C) defunct.

Then there's the yearly "State of the Industry" panel, which more recently has been "The Gary & Terry Show," with American Gaming Association President Frank J. Fahrenkopf serving questions to Harrah's Entertainment CEO Gary Loveman and MGM Mirage CEO J. Terrence Lanni. Except that Lanni canceled his 2008 appearance a short while back -- a harbinger of his resignation? IGT CEO T.J. Matthews will also be there, which should be, uh, interesting, especially with Loveman having launched a pogrom against "Wheel of Fortune" and other participation games.

However, there will be "added value" in the form of Ernest Stevens Jr., the Fahrenkopf of tribal gaming, taking his rightful place amidst the panel -- another sign that we've moved past the days when companies like Circus Circus Enterprises actively tried to suppress tribal gaming in neighboring states. (Speaking of Fahrenkopf, he had a cameo in this week's Frontline biography of GOP dirty trickster Lee Atwater, the man who brought you Willie Horton. It included a scene of Atwater spewing bile while Fahrenkopf stood at his left elbow. Whaddya wanna bet FJF wishes he could "disappear" that footage.)

Loveman gets all huffy if you challenge him about stuff (like why he lives in Massachusetts), so that can add to the fun. He's also very difficult to understand sometimes, because he's got the strange habit of swiveling his head constantly from left to right while answering questions, meaning that the microphone ... catches ... roughly ... every ... other ... word.

And yet ...

G2E is an ordeal. It's the Bataan Death March of the casino industry, as we haul ourselves from one end of the exhibit floor (which seems to extend beyond the curvature of the Earth) and back again, then repeat the exercise. Noise, crowds and the relentless pounding of one's feet on thinly-covered cement; it all takes a toll, especially for someone like myself who suffers from the triple whammy of fibromyalgia, osteoarthritis and recurring back trouble. The reams of paperwork one has to plough through beforehand can also drive you to despair.

In short, G2E is not for the faint of heart nor the frail of constitution. With that in mind, I offer 10 survival tips.

• The F&B Pavilion is your friend. Make liberal use of it, especially any free booze you can snag.

• The most important booth is not IGT's but rather the one where they sell the massaging insoles. I bought a pair last year and they were life savers.

• Chair massages. 'Nuff said.

• Sit down. As often as possible. You may not want to get up again, but duty calls.

• Cell phones. Set them on LOUD (as in jet-engine loud). In G2E, no one can hear your phone ring.

• Tchotchkes. The fewer you pick up, the better. The same goes for goodie bags. They'll just weigh you down and make your job harder. Travel light. Except for ...

• Business cards. Pack as many as you think you'll need. Then double it. At minimum.

• Downloadable slots. First, see if you can spot them (last year's bunch were indescribably bland). Then have a drink for every time somebody tells you they're "one year away" from deployment. Sort of like handheld gambling devices. (Remember them? They were The Next Big Thing ... three years ago.) For extra fun, use the term "vaporware" around the Cantor Gaming booth and see what kind of looks you draw.

• Don't play the slots unless you can get a sales rep to set them so they immediately trigger a bonus round. Otherwise you can waste a lot of time. Why they're not set to the bonus round as a matter of course remains a mystery.

• Fowl play. Remember the tic-tac-toe-playing chicken from Atlantic City? See if he has a booth this year. Then try to beat him. If you can, you're a true Master of the Universe 'cause that chicken's got game.

Get buzzed at the Trop. LVA just conducted a poll on casino smells, particularly the sort of piped-in aromas you'll encounter at The Palazzo. Which prompted a reader to ask, "So……  That moldy marijuana smell at the Tropicana is pumped in????? Interesting……"

Well, it'd be one way to get people to want to eat at that buffet.

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