Contrary to repeated assertions by J.P. Morgan, it would appear that MGM Mirage is putting out promotional specials for Bellagio ... and very aggressively so. Note however, that Steve Wynn's masterpiece is maintaining its price point and Aria is the one having to come down to meet it.

Also, an unscientific survey of mid-week rates parallel to Aria's opening shows that what the CityCenter flagship is doing is sucking the air out of the rest of the Strip, especially other MGM properties. Even Wynn Las Vegas is down to $159/night that week (quotes were predicated on a three-night stay).

The absolute bargain was Downtown's Golden Gate ($12.71) and unless you count Hooters and fellow bottom-feeder Wild Wild West, the lowest on-Strip price was $21.21 at MGM's Circus Circus. The Sahara ($22.40) and Imperial Palace ($25) were close behind. They were ever-so-slightly outpriced by the Riviera ($27) and Tropicana ($29.33).

As for other properties in the lion's den: Excalibur ($31), Luxor ($48.37), New York-New York ($50), Monte Carlo ($58.62), the Green Monster (aka MGM Grand, $70), Mandalay Bay ($72.55), The Mirage ($76.50), THEhotel ($93.29), Vdara ($109) ... with only the Green Monster's Sky Lofts ($600) outpricing Aria.

So, MGM, are you sure this oligopoly business model is the way you want to go? I'm just askin'.

<crickets>

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Galaxy Theatres' multiplex at The Cannery has scrapped all its big-screen showings of Monday Night Football, it was announced today, one week into the NFL season. Perhaps the incessant jabbering of Jon Gruden sent patrons screaming out onto the casino floor.

"Historic Announcement" at Trop: New CEO Alex Yemenidjian has booked a press conference on Wednesday morning with a "Special Guest" who represents an "exciting new partnership" in the entertainment sphere. It's the worst-kept secret in Vegas that Mr. Special Guest is better known as blogger Chuck Monster's least-favorite Strip headliner, Wayne F. Newton.

Also, the Sahara is (finally!) pulling the plug on Larry Marshak's ersatz Platters/Coasters/Marvelettes revue. Alas, the last act in this shameful saga of exploitation has yet to play out. The Marshak troupe will actually move up the Strip food chain, to Planet Hollywood. However, its new home is the Wyrick Entertainment Complex, otherwise known as the "Venue of Death." If that doesn't kill the show, nothing will.

Well that's ... weird: The Las Vegas Sun's Brendan Buhler reports that waitresses at Monte Carlo's lounge within the Dragon Noodle Co. restaurant "are dressed as characters from Japanese animé cartoons, a hobby known as cosplay." This strikes Buhler as odd because the U.S. cosplay cosmos is dominated by teens and pre-teens, and is "geeky." (He said it, I didn't.) He likens it to a Miley Cyrus-themed nightclub, before noting that the uniforms resemble "schoolgirl outfits."

Which would explain a lot.

Eight isn't enough. Yet another GOP challenger enters the lists against Sen. "Hapless Harry" Reid (D-NV). Just FYI.

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In a decision that could have wide-ranging implications, Foxwoods Casino Resort and Mohegan Sun have been ordered to count (and pay taxes on) "free play" coupons as though they were revenue. This isn't a sock-it-to-the-players move like the one the Hawaii Legislature just pulled, taxing any money won at a casino (even if it's lost right back and then some). However, the ramifications for consumers if free-play coupons are targeted for taxation are discouraging. Play 'em while you've got 'em.

That stale "sleeping giant" analogy has been dusted off (and I use that verb advisedly) for some pimpery of the Sahara. On the glass half-full side, classy and romantic dinner spot House of Lords has been revived. It used to be a perfect place to take your Special Someone and hopefully will remain so. It's just off the main casino floor -- the most Moorish-themed part of the Sahara and the best "retro" experience to be had in town. (Almost everything else of newer vintage is bland grind-joint crud that needs to go.)

As for the empty half of the glass, that'd be the news that owner Sam Nazarian continues to go downmarket with a vengeance. Because nothing says "classic Vegas" like a tattoo parlor and a biker convention. Worse still, the tramp-stamp place will be in the otherwise elegant main lobby, with extended weekend tattoo-ing times ... since you never know when you want to do something you'll regret the rest of your life.

This "desert jewel rich with history and nostalgia" will continue that tradition with "a wet wife-beater contest, bikini tricycle races, a bourbon paired beef dinner with leatherwear fashion show, and an all-you-can-eat beer fest BBQ with one lucky rider winning a 2009 Harley Davidson Cross Bones bike." It's probably just a matter of time before Nazarian converts the big rear parking lot to a trailer park, too. That's Sam Nazarian for you: "class" with a capital "K."

"Tina Sparkle," flanked by Donny Osmond (evidently still in his pajamas) and Marie, who's looking damn fine from here.

It's old news that Donny Osmond is going to be on the next season of Dancing with the Stars, but I hadn't known he was going to be paired with Aussie Kym Johnson. The latter is known to my Better Half and I as "Tina Sparkle" (it's a Strictly Ballroom thing), which would make for great DWTS levity next season, except ...

... for the soul-crushing news that the gorgeous and talented Cheryl Burke has been twinned with the repulsive (and potentially prison-bound) Tom DeLay, one of "Casino Jack" Abramoff's band of Beltway scoundrels. (Was scum-tastic sleazemeister Rod Blagojevich not available?) Bad luck for Cheryl, good news for DeLay because Ms. Burke could be matched with a tree stump and get aforesaid stump into the final three. If she could carry a woodpile like Cristian de la Fuente to the finale, DeLay should be easy lifting. It looks like he's got the requisite arboreal quality.

Does Criss Angel have compromising photos of high-ranking MGM Mirage executives? The company's "branding" him now, evidently having convinced itself that Believe is beyond wonderful ... and never mind that 11-year-old O regularly outdistances Believe in ticket sales by several country miles. Having sunk $85 million into this Cirque du Soleil turkey, MGM is evidently going to stick with it until the last dancing rabbit is hung.

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After fairly flying out of the gate, M Resort has hit the wall. Unfortunately, CEO Anthony Marnell III's response to economic adversity has been to sweat the value propositions. Not only is M fretting about card counters (hands down, the silliest preoccupation in the casino industry), it's yanking full-pay video poker machines.

“We are in business to have an edge and these games are nearly break-even,” Marnell tells Liz Benston. Give him points for candor ... but if you didn't want players to have a 50-50 shot, you should never have installed the machines in the first place, fella. This reeks of bait-and-switch. The video poker community is tightly knit; word of this stuff gets arounds fast and will undoubtedly redound to Marnell's disadvantage.

Another thing that might be working against Marnell are M's distinctly underwhelming coupon offers -- far inferior to those from Station Casinos, for one. The Significant Other and I tend to forward our M "offers" straight into the WPB (waste paper basket). I'd also respectfully dissent with Benston re M's casino design: It's a throwback to the old "disorientation" days. For ease of navigation, M's not a patch on Eastside Cannery, to say nothing of Wynn Las Vegas. Heck, even the venerable Sahara isn't the rat maze that is M's gambling floor.

When "whales" attack. Indicted high roller Terrance K. Watanabe is taking on Nevada's casino-debt-collection machine and his lawyer is making some interesting legal arguments. Basically, he's contending that markers are loans, not checks (as longstanding Nevada precedent would have it). Should this argument prevail at trial, it could have far-reaching consequences.

Since markers could no longer be booked as income, Nevada would no longer be able to tax uncollected markers, as it currently does. Since enforcement of the debt is funded by assessing a 10% penalty on the debtor, Clark County couldn't afford to go after delinquent whales, either. And casinos themselves might have to think even harder before (in effect) lending money to players like Watanabe who, his attorney says, accounted for a fifth of The Rio's and Caesars Palace's casino revenue in a two-year period.

Hoist on its petard. In his latest Las Vegas Business Press column, Dr. David G. Schwartz explains how the consolidation mania of the 1990s (spurred by manic Wall Street analysts) came back to bite the casino industry in its ass when times were tough. So tell us, Nevada Gaming Commission, why was it such a good idea to have an oligopoly on the Strip (and in Lake Tahoe ... and ... )?

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Hot off the wire from Harrah's Entertainment: "The visionary force behind Club Fuego, ND, has opted to close the nightclub in order to pursue future projects in other formats. The closure is effective today [June 15]."

Durr: Friends don't let friends become Europoseurs

This mouthful of fulsome flattery requires a bit of translation. "ND" is the pretentious moniker chosen by Nicole Durr. The German impresario garnered a small but fawning following during her latest Vegas stint. She also was credited with conception, creation, writing, direction, producing, musical conception, co-composition, costume design, co-choreography, co-program design and photography for Raw Talent Live.

The latter was a mercifully short-lived Cirque du Soleil wannabe that ran at the Sahara and looked like what you'd get if you let Franco Dragone run riot with a budget of $17.95. Centering upon "The Laptop of Life" (don't ask), this incomprehensible mishmash -- I believe the operative German word is Scheisse -- featured among its dramatis personae one "Miss Conscience Guilt," who presumably was dropping in from The Land of Babelfish.

Not only did Raw Talent Live have the miniscule distinction of being the single worst Vegas show I have ever seen, it was memorable in another respect: It used prerecorded applause. Either that or the theater was full of invisible people the night I saw Raw Talent, because there were probably fewer spectators than cast members.

In an effort to keep this Esperanto-flavored flub afloat, it was renamed Fuego Raw Talent Live, then just Fuego. But adding or subtracting words from the marquee provided no solution to an addle-pated concept.

That lesson went unlearnt when Ms. Durr set up shop over at The Rio. Posters on the property gaseously proclaimed: "ND's Fuego • The Club • Evolution of Nightlife." Now, if Steve Wynn were to announce that henceforth he was to be addressed and mentioned exclusively as "SW," and marketed his new property as "SW's Encore • The Resort • Evolution of Las Vegas" ... well, we'd all think El Steve had jumped the shark, to put it politely.

Before long, "Fuego" was doused and the Rio room became "ND's The Club." (Judging by its use of "Club Fuego," Harrah's Entertainment was as confused by the name-of-the-week as anyone.) All of which presumes that there's some brand equity in those two initials. Honestly, does anyone not on the Las Vegas Weekly's nightclub beat lie awake nights, tormented by the question, "What, oh what will ND do next?"

Durr earned herself a place in the Vegas history books when she helped spirit 50 Cuban artists to freedom. But of late she's drunk rather too deeply of her own bathwater. The ensuing cult of personality will not be missed.

OK, Durr is "develop[ing] the various elements of the brand." Guy Laliberté is being sent into outer space (meaning he's got 10 weeks to kick his nicotine addiction). So when will Christian Audigier take the hint?

Farewell to a legend. Europeans -- as opposed to transplanted Europoseurs -- remembered and revered saxophonist Sam Butera even after many in Vegas had forgotten him. Amidst the ongoing fuss over the demise of Danny Gans, the departure of Louis Prima's legendary sideman might have gone unnoticed were it not largely for the dedicated reportage of Cult Vegas author Mike Weatherford. Opportunties to hear Butera in Vegas were, in the past decade, few and fleeting ... but I wish I hadn't passed them up. That'll be something I regret.

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Last Sunday's Las Vegas Review-Journal carried an interview with new Tropicana Las Vegas President Ron Thacker. It delicately sidesteps potentially uncomfortable questions about the plug-pulling on Folies Bergere or the brevity of Thacker's tenure at Fontainebleau. His fondness for Who Moved My Cheese? earned him some reader derision. I found it a refreshing change from those execs who routinely cite Thomas Friedman's The World is Flat (presumably in search of clues on how to outsource the casino industry to Bangalore).

Thacker is a third-generation casino manager and a well-traveled operator. This should stand both him and the Trop in good stead after the clownish bumbling of hapless Columbia Sussex. He also evinces a longstanding affection for the property, which is a quality any executive there ought to possess. So that's another point in Thacker's favor and he's right that nostalgia is the main selling point down there. With the exception of parts of the Sahara, there's no property that says "old Vegas" (in a Rat Pack sense) quite like the Trop.

But when he says, "We're going to put some money back into the property with the infrastructure itself. Bring it up to the standards our customers expect and our employees expect," you have to wonder if he's read Tropicana Entertainment CEO Scott Butera's business plan. It earmarks $8.4 million for renovations and maintenance this year (that'll get you 1/30th of thrifty Eastside Cannery and about an 80th of Aliante Station) and an average of $5.2 million for each year afterward.

That's not much more than is set aside for MontBleu, up in Lake Tahoe and a small fraction of what Butera proposes to spend on the Tropicana Atlantic City. Then again, in order to do the latter, he'd have to persuade the New Jersey Casino Control Commission to let him have it back and ... well ... you know.

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Now I know that Penn National is all a-flush with cash these days and CEO Peter Carlino is probably feeling bullish. Still, in a recent visit to Vegas to assess possible casino acquisitions, he's alleged to have acted like he just fell off the turnip truck.

According to Steve Wynn -- in the course of scotching a rumor that he might buy up some MGM Mirage property -- Carlino made the company an offer for Bellagio. Carlino must think that J. Terrence Lanni is an awfully desperate man. Why else would MGM part with its most powerful revenue driver on the Strip, a casino that is regularly in Majestic Research's top three when it comes to game usage (over-simply, sheer preponderance of players)?

Carlino made news by publicly dissing the Tropicana as a potential buy, saying "There's better stuff" to be had. Agreed. But, unless Wynn either misheard or is making mischief, Carlino seems to have veered far off the other side of the road. There's definitely some low-hanging fruit out there: The Rio, Riviera (plus debt), Cosmopolitan (ditto), maybe even the Sahara. Why he thinks MGM would part with its most valuable asset beggars the imagination.

(Wynn's hypothesis that MGM might peddle its Atlantic City land and perhaps its half-share of Borgata makes far more sense, especially with the question of Pansy Ho's suitability still hanging fire in New Jersey. And Penn has shown interest in two other A.C. sites already.)

MGM spokesman Alan Feldman is cagey, though, keeping alive the prospect that Bellagio might be had (perhaps by someone with the initials K.K.) for the right price. But I've got to believe it would take an offer as exuberant as the one El-Ad Properties made for the New Frontier before MGM Mirage would pawn its crown jewel to a rival operator.

And don't forget Downtown: Carlino is welcome to buy out slothful Tamares Group any time he likes.

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Dave Surratt's review of Point Break Live ("a deadening waste of time") goes a long way toward explaining the show's ignominious four-performance run.

Just another day at the office at Huntington Press.

Further up the Strip, the new production show at the Sahara, Raw Talent Live (above), sounds lametastic on paper. (I ask you: "The Laptop of Life"? It gives me visions of eternally computer-clutching Dr. Rodney McKay on Stargate Atlantis.) However ... the buzz coming out of preview performances -- see "Comments" -- is mighty heady, far better than what's being said about Cirque du Soleil's troubled Believe, down at Luxor.

Since Criss Angel is apparently having difficulty carrying a stage show and problems have befallen Cher, maybe the two shows could be merged, with Cher taking over the singing duties from Angel. It would give Cirque access to a much better title song ...

(And, no, I'm not being serious.)

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According to local entertainment scribe Mike Weatherford, the new ownership at the Sahara is trying to re-up with promoter Larry Marshak's ersatz Platters/Coasters/Marvelettes act. Thanks to the byzantine histories of these groups and their ever-rotating membership, sufficient loopholes have existed for Marshak to peddle a variety of impostor bands hither and yon.

The groups whose identities Marshak counterfeits have the common root of being ones whose members were largely anonymous to the public and were comprised of African Americans and a time when the latter were second-class citizens, with little means of recourse. The impostor act at the Sahara perpetuates a shameful history of exploitation. Current casino owner Sam Nazarian has a chance to either break with this sharecropper business or become complicit in it. Deplorably, it looks like he's opting for Door #2.

Chip off the old block. If you go to www.billyung.com, you'll find the son of Columbia Sussex CEO William J. Yung III striking out on his own, starting with an Osage Beach, Missouri resort. My favorite page is this one. No, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it? Maybe the Web site designers were too busy puffing around Columbia Sussex HQ on the elder Yung's miniature choo-choo train (see end of story).

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Once I'd read that Trump Plaza had gone to automated no-dealer poker, my first thought was, "What becomes of the 'rake'?" Not to worry: The machines have taken care of it. Or, as Casino Manager Anthony Spagno was kind enough to explain, "As the case with a dealer, the rake is deducted from the pot at certain intervals during each hand with a maximum of $3.00. Time raked games are deducted from the players table stakes according to the rake schedule."

Automated poker is catching on at Trump Plaza in part, I suspect, because there was no poker there previously and because, according to the article, it provides a user-friendly 'bunny slope' upon which to get acclimated to the game.

These Poker Tek tables have yet to be approved in Nevada, where I'm sure they'll produce an interesting schism. Obviously, no self-respecting poker room on the Strip would install them, but they'd probably do well out on the floor amongst the casual players, even more so than Rapid Roulette, for instance.

And I can definitely see PokerPro muscling into the low-budget Vegas casinos and maybe even some mid-market ones. For instance, you could plunk them down in the poker "room" at Suncoast (really just a random corner of the casino floor) and I doubt anyone would notice the difference.

June's Bad Service Award goes to the bartender at the Sahara's NASCAR Cafe. I killed time there with a soda while some friends and family went roller-coaster-riding. The bartender was surly, took forever (on a very slow Saturday night) and my $2.95 Coke came in a thimble. No tip for that schmuck.

Why is it that casinos are usually willing to pay higher taxes when virtually every other business is only too eager to shirk its civic responsibility? The latest group of gambling halls to pony up are the East Baton Rouge riverboats. Most generous, at least in theory (because it haven't built its riverboat yet) is Pinnacle Entertainment, offering 4.5% of revenues outright, according to JP Morgan.

More complicated formulas apply to the two extant vessels. Columbia Sussex's Belle of Baton Rouge will pay 2% if revenues are less than $73.6 million, but -- if that benchmark is achieved -- it pays a split rate of 3.5% on the first $73.6 million and an extra percent on anything more. Penn National's Hollywood Casino Baton Rouge subscribes to an identical formula, save that the magic number for Penn is $100 million, not $73.6 million (which seems to be a nice way of saying that Penn is trouncing Columbia Sussex. What a surprise.)

The new tax rates supplant $2.50/head boarding fees formerly in place in East Baton Rouge Parish.

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