David Mckee's Stiffs & Georges - Pets

Goliath, computer nerd; Lowden Trek: The Wrath of Reid

Tue, 20 Oct 2009 15:09:00 -0700

As some may recall, the saga of Goliath, the LVA rescue kitten, had a happy ending. Not only has he found a new, loving home but the hyperactive little fellow (whose new owners renamed him "Murderface") has developed an interest in technology:

"Robin said he’s obsessed with the computer — he’ll shimmy up her leg or the back of the chair, then either perch on her shoulder or sit in front of the monitor and bat at the cursor on screen."

Since my two cats only acknowledge computers to the extent of sitting either A) on the mouse pad or B) in front of the screen, effectively blocking it, Goliath would appear to be part of that younger, techno-savvy generation.

Sue Lowden = Klingons? The senatorial candidacy of Archon Corp. Treasurer Sue Lowden is evidently being taken quite seriously by Sen. Harry Reid. So much so that Reid's office has threatened to "vaporize" Lowden, prompting some musings on the proper response to phaser fire. If Reid wanted to do Nevadans a service, shouldn't he instead vaporize Lowden's Pioneer Gambling Hall, a grind joint that's been likened to the barren, depressing, post-2004 Vegas Club downtown?

Story of the Year

Thu, 08 Oct 2009 17:14:00 -0700

I want the movie rights to this. 'Nuff said.

We're #1! For an overdue change, Nevada leads the nation in a good category (first item). And, if you scroll waaaaaaaaaaaay to the bottom, there's an interesting bit about and airfare-and-room deal from Wynn Resorts. (Way to bury it, R-J.)

Update: The Sun has a better report in re Wynn. I shoulda known.

Many thanks ...

Tue, 08 Sep 2009 11:06:00 -0700

... to everyone who wrote in and overwhelmed us with messages of condolence regarding the late Shadow. Time doesn't permit writing individual replies to each and every one of you, although you have touched my heart deeply. So thanks go out to Steve Kallis (and I would imagine the Humane Society thanks you, too), Jeff in OKC, Jason the poolman, Richard Abowitz, arm53, detroit1051, Frank P., William Heckel (check out his Web site), Jinx (ditto), Aaron, Jim and smudger.

The apartment still seems very empty without Shadow's graceful -- if sometimes surprisingly obstreperous -- presence. Her brother, Mr. Bit, needs a lot of comforting. Fasolt is pretty much the same as ever.

Eventually the painful memories will recede and the good ones will take their place. Right now it's difficult to visualize Shadow other than as I last saw her, lying on the veterinarian's table, emaciated and misshapen, with her stomach bloated by the tumor. Her eyes seemed to say, "Let me go," but you're never adequately prepared for when they bring her back with a catheter sticking from her forearm, let alone for when you have to tell the vet it's OK to administer the lethal injection.

However, Shadow was in the extremely ethical hands of Mountain Vista Animal Hospital, one of Las Vegas' greatest assets. They could have strung me along with false hope and thereby milked my bank account dry, but they were most candid about the gravity of the situation. Thanks to them, Shadow's suffering was relatively brief. I hope I'm so fortunate when it's my turn to shuffle off this mortal coil.

In the meantime, it's a little difficult to give a rat's patootie about what's happening in the casino industry. I'm sure you understand why.

Besides ... the fallout from last week's blog meltdown continues to descend. Our linking capabilities are temporarily kaput and the photo library has vanished. Hence the somewhat gray and bare-bones look of S&G these days. Darn, and I have this great screencap of Edward Quartermain looking for all the world like Sheldon Adelson ...

Shadow, 1993-2009

Sat, 05 Sep 2009 15:53:00 -0700

Jennifer & I just said goodbye to a faithful friend of 13 years, Shadow. A slim, sleek Norwegian Forest Cat, she came into my life on a fine autumn afternoon in 1996. I was still recovering from a broken engagement and, while taking a walk, came across a yard sale being conducted by a woman who was moving to Brazil. There, up for sale, was a beautiful blue-gray cat who was the spitting image of Buddy, my ex-fiancée's adorable Norwegian (who I missed far more than I did my ex).

As it turned out, Shadow also had an obstreperous brother, Bit (later promoted to Mr. Bit). Although I was only looking for one cat, I didn't have the heart to break brother and sister up, and took both. Shadow was well named, as she was invisible in darkness -- causing her to get tripped over and stepped on far more times than I'd care to admit -- and had the alarming habit of diving at your feet, an accident waiting to happen.

Unlike her brother, Shadow took to her new living situation at once. The only problem was the resultant friction between senior cat Fasolt and Shadow, which would never be resolved. They'd spend the next 13 years spatting. A couple of years after Shadow and Mr. Bit joined our family, job prospects in Minneapolis had dried up but multiple opportunities presented themselves in Las Vegas. So, in January 1999, my brother Vincent drove Shadow and Mr. Bit cross-country, while I flew Fasolt to Las Vegas. The climate seemed to agree with them -- to say nothing of the profusion of juicy birds who dwelt nearby. Mr. Bit did, however, take several days to emerge from his hiding place in the kitchen cupboard.

Fast-forward a decade, and Shadow was showing signs of decrepitude and weight loss. (She was always lighter than air, but still ... ) Her movements became stiffer, her lethargy more pronounced and she became reclusive. At first, I chalked this up to advancing age but eventually, she gave up on using the litter box, too. A number of medical tests failed to detect anything wrong.

As late as last Tuesday, Shadow was running about the apartment, having an episode of the 'nighttime crazies.' But, by Friday her belly was alarmingly bloated while the rest of her was emaciated and rail-thin. A visit to the vet brought the dreaded news: Shadow had a buildup of fluid in her abdomen and, beneath that, a tumor. Even a best-case scenario involving surgery and chemotherapy would only buy her a few more months on Earth. She was whimpering from the pain and the spark of her personality was all but extinguished.

We said our farewells as the last moments of Shadow's life ebbed away. Many tears were shed. Her body is gone, soon to be cremated, but her spirit will live in our hearts and minds and souls forever, for she is part of us in a way that death cannot sunder. Still ... I will miss feeling her sleeping across my feet or knees when I'm sick in bed ... chasing the dot of the laser pointer ... sliding across the linoleum in pursuit of a runaway twist-tie ... yelling at me when her dinner wasn't promptly served ... sulking if her water did not have ice cubes in it, per her preference ... dipping her right paw in aforesaid water and licking it off (making the water dirty for everyone else, but little did she care) ... burrowing her forehead into my wrist as though to say "Thank you," when dinner was served ... reclining regally in the nearest patch of sun ... and, perhaps most of all, "helping" her Daddy work by curling up in his lap at the computer desk.

At least once, I came back to find her sitting on the keyboard, as though to say, "No more Internet, Dad!"

Thanks for reminding me of what is important, Shadow. We will never stop missing you.

Goliath finds a home

Mon, 24 Aug 2009 16:38:00 -0700

Goliath sneaks up on erstwhile housemate Piglet.

After a week of foster parenting, we were able to find a good, loving home for Goliath (although it near to broke our hearts to see him go). His new family is set to spoil him rotten and looked like kids on Christmas morning when they finally saw his bandit-masked face. They'd already bought a "kitty condo" and toys for him, and word is that he's become comfortably ensconced in his new abode in nothing flat. The only adjustment problem may be that Goliath's idea of "playtime" is 2 a.m., something with which mere humans may have difficulty coping.

(According to our blogging software, this is officially the 1,500th S&G posting. Who'da thunk it'd ever go the distance?)

Abraca - OMFG!

Fri, 21 Aug 2009 11:53:00 -0700

Scarlett, Princess of Magic has settled into her new revue, Scarlett and her Seductive Ladies of Magic, which finally gives me a reason to encourage people to visit the Riviera. The video below is taken from Scartlett's family-friendly V Theater show (long since closed) but many of the same tricks are reprised, on a bigger scale -- and with far less clothing. Her instance, the one-piece has devolved into a 'barely there' red bikini. Make sure your pacemaker is in working order.

There's some incredibly perfunctory toplessness from two assistants/dancers but it's Scarlett who brings the sexy -- and how! If this doesn't work out, she'd make a formidable contestant on Dancing with the Stars, too. I'm no great judge of magic but Scarlett is definitely the most hot-cha Strip headliner not named Marie Osmond. In a classy gesture, Scarlett's former presenter, David Saxe, was at the Riv last night amidst the well-wishers.

As for the Riv itself, corner-cutting is omnipresent, sometimes amusingly so. The post-Scarlett cocktail party featured but a lone plate of bruschetta and some cheese cubes. When they were (quickly) gone, they were gone. The Riv is just hanging on by its fingernails, even if it's not fallen off the cliff yet.

Amazed. It looks like an open-ended run is assured for this afternoon comedy show, highlighted by guitar-playing impressionist Mark Rayburn. (After you've seen him, you'll never take Gordie Brown seriously again.) Tickets are just a wee bit steep for a 2:30 p.m. show, but this is a winner, much better than certain comedy shows which I've seen and/or reviewed recently. I can't recommend it too highly. My more extended impressions of Amazed and Scartlett are due for publication in the near future.

Buffet bulletin. No word yet on whether MGM Grand, Luxor, Excalibur or Stratosphere are reining in their all-day buffet specials. Ben Bernanke's confidence notwithstanding, optimism in Vegas should be tempered with caution ... and price increases probably should not even be contemplated until those downward-trending visitation numbers start heading up for a change. One needn't be an economist to see that Nevada's recovery, when it happens, will be slow in coming.

The juice behind the juice. Could the speedy restoration of Privé's liquor license, following some cosmetic changes in management, have had another motive? Like maybe a precipitate dropoff in Planet Hollywood foot traffic? Xania Woodman reports, you decide.

Goliath gets a clean bill of health.

Goliath adopted? There's a glimmer of hope that little Goliath may soon find a new home. Why then am I so melancholy?

Goliath, by request

Wed, 19 Aug 2009 12:35:00 -0700

For those of you have been asking about Goliath, here he is during last Friday's visit to Mountain Vista Animal Hospital:

At the time, he was understandably shy and a little bit frightened ...

... but on Monday he abruptly emerged from his shell and became quite gregarious. He's settling into foster-home life. Rascal, the resident male, has taken a paternal interest in Goliath and they've playing Hide & Seek, as well as curling up together. I do miss having Goliath around the office, though.

Goliath awaits

Tue, 18 Aug 2009 13:32:00 -0700

A reader asks: "Doth thou humble Fasolt not feel intruded upon? Or does he reside at home whilst you work?"

The latter. Fasolt's sheer preponderance, not to mention his total aversion to the litter box, militate against taking him anywhere. However, he loves people and used to "assist" me at Casino Executive Magazine on select occasions. He's also got the good people at Mountain Vista Animal Hospital (one of Vegas' greatest treasures) eating out of his paw. He gets a hero's welcome every time he boards there.

Goliath, meanwhile, has found a foster home, which means he will not be a pleasant distraction at work. The "Colony Capital strikes (out) again" post was written with tiny Goliath asleep on my right knee. In two weeks, he should be ready for adoption, although we'd like to make sure he's going to a good home. At a mere 7-8 weeks, he's far better disciplined than some of my adult cats.

Blogging and cats ...

Mon, 17 Aug 2009 15:30:00 -0700

... do not mix well, as you can see:

Goliath, the one-pound, two-ounce kitten we rescued from the I-15 "on" ramp by Caesars Palace, is climbing all over Yr. Humble Blogger -- as shown -- and, more to the point, all over my computer keyboard.

Goliath has not, however, so much as paused on Joel Stein's controversial Time cover story ("Welcome to Fabulous Less Vegas"), thereby proving Rita Mae Brown's adage that a page upon which a cat will not deign to sit is probably not worth reading anyway. Goliath's reign as LVA kitten-is-residence will be brief; a foster home has been arranged, pending his eventual adoption.

Kitty rescue at Caesars; Stingy Station

Fri, 14 Aug 2009 13:43:00 -0700

As we were driving to LVA HQ this morning, we spotted a disoriented-looking little cat running through the Flamingo Rd./I-15 interchange, across from Caesars Palace. We were in a quandary about what to do until it turned and started ambling down the I-15 "on" ramp, heading straight for certain death. I ran down the ramp after it (the kitty's a fast little bugger), scooped it up in one hand and ...

Well, what to do? I am now the custodian of a small, tuxedo-patterned kitten who may be carrying God knows what infections. It's too docile to be a feral cat but it's definitely going to need a new residence. So if anybody reading this can lend a helping hand to a homeless kitty, contact me at dmckee@huntingtonpress.com. I could just plop the wee bairn out in the LVA parking lot, along with our resident strays, but they're all massive and it would be a very Darwinian situation, I fear.

Cheesparing at Station: The formidable Jean Scott has news of some recent and untoward developments at Station Casinos, as the bankrupt company resorts to new "economy" measures. While the Fertitta clan sinks approximately $90 million into Orange County mansions, they're recouping the cost of their poor business decisions out of their customers' hides.

Random observations: Last night, we celebrated my Better Half's birthday, partly at Cadillac Ranch, which seems to have an identity crisis. Its menu is slightly countrified (in a C&W sense), its walls are covered with photos of Baby Boomer rock stars (think Steven Tyler) and the video feed is heavy on hip-hop. Go figure. The root beer float is very good, though. At 10:30, as though by prearranged signal, an incoming tide of douchebags flooded the joint and we split ...

... the classy southern façade of Mandarin Oriental has now been marred by a building wrap, high up on one corner. It's small by building-wrap standards, managing to both spoil the view and look like a timid half-measure ...

... speaking of building wraps, Criss F. Angel has long since been evicted from the eastern façade of Luxor. A new wrap was placed on the northeast corner of Luxor's ancillary hotel, but it's also smallish and -- due to way the hotel's buttresses jut forward -- hard to see if you're driving into Vegas from the south. Then again, if I were MGM Mirage, I'd probably want to downplay with association with the widely ridiculed Mr. Angel, too.

Fasolt

Thu, 30 Jul 2009 16:13:00 -0700

As I write this, LVA mascot Mojo is sunning herself on my office balcony (and doing #2, I fear), turning my mind to the animal kingdom. S&G readers are sometimes so kind as to ask after the health of my gargantuan Maine Coon cat, Fasolt, who briefly went missing last winter while the Significant Other and I were engrossed in an episode of The L Word.

I'm happy to report that Fasolt is in fine fettle, although sufficiently arthritic as to require "pet steps" (pictured) to get onto the bed. He continues to tolerate his stepbrother, Mr. Bit, and to spat with his stepsister, Shadow. He's also growing more neurotic with age, to the point where avoids the litter box like the plague. Some stopgap solutions have been devised, through trial and error, but the occasional father-son chat about "inappropriate elimination" still has to be conducted.

When it's dinner time, he sits (sometimes) patiently at my right knee, awaiting the table scraps that are his due as Senior Cat in Residence. He also likes to "watch" TV with me and, if I'm working at home, he's usually just to right of my desk chair or -- more problematically -- in my lap. And if he feels there's been too much Internet surfing, Fasolt sits on the mouse pad to put a stop to it.

What's this to do with gambling ... well, nothing. But in my not-impartial opinion, Fasolt's native smarts exceed those of certain gaming-sector CEOs.

Moulin Rouge: Whoops!

Tue, 07 Jul 2009 14:27:00 -0700

The Moulin Rouge development that will never be.

Oh dear, oh dear. Seems like the City of Las Vegas unwittingly obstructed its own arson probe into the demise of the Moulin Rouge when it allowed the property to be immediately demolished. Sloppily, the actual tearing-down was farmed out to the property's former owners, who happened to have a demolition contractor on site during the blaze.

The fire's cause remains speculative and no finding of arson has been made -- and now perhaps never will. But the city's decision not only looks overhasty, it was (at the very least) cavalier to entrust it to dispossessed Moulin Rouge Development Corp. and not new owner Olympic Coast Development. The latter's prexy, John Hoss, told the Las Vegas Sun he found the chain of events "a little odd" and "a weird coincidence." Since Hoss is only trying to corral a $100,000 insurance claim, the city could get stuck with an asbestos-removal tab as high as $1.1 million.

Can they screw this up any further? Is the Pope Catholic?

F'bleau-minus. The bankrupt resort's developer, Jeffrey Soffer, proposes some unspecified corner-cutting to get the project back on budget. ("On budget" being a very relative term where Fontainebleau is concerned.) Combine this with the allegedly secret "Enhanced" costs for F'bleau's highly touted amenities and the moral of the story is that what you see on the Web site or in the design renderings has a tenuous relationship to what you'll actually get.

At least Soffer is offering to chip in some equity, unlike former investor James Packer, who scuttled away from F'bleau the moment the chips were down.

Gator on the loose. One of Las Vegas' larger parks got a lot more interesting yesterday when a 42-inch-long alligator turned up. Instead of entrusting the spunky fellow to a local zoo or perhaps one of our local casino-based wildlife habitats, the Wildlife Dept. killed him. Bastards. I hope they never get their mitts on our beloved Mojo ...

Mojo, the monarch of Huntington Press.

Speaking of James Packer ... griefs are arriving in battalions (thanks, Mr. Shakespeare) for City of Dreams. In terms of mass-market business, Venetian Macao is eating City of Dreams' lunch. "Despite 41,000 people walking through City of Dreams every day since it opened in the first week of June, most of the visitors were just admiring the decor instead of sitting down at its tables for a game of baccarat," reports The Age.

Not only is one analyst projecting a 15% earnings shortfall for Melco Crown Entertainment, another has tripled his loss-per-share projection. J.P. Morgan is also revising its 2010 cash-flow projections on the $2.1 billion megaresort to 13% ROI, down from 17%. (That's still a better return on investment than you can get on the Las Vegas Strip.)

Did Steve Wynn take Packer to the cleaners when sold him 37% of a casino concession for $1 billion? Wynn had a chance to size up Packer and deemed him not yet ready for the big leagues. Score another one for El Steve.

Case Bets: Our LVA mascot; Menopause; Mob museum

Thu, 18 Jun 2009 15:19:00 -0700

Woe betide anyone who dares to plunder LVA HQ, for we are under the protection of a fierce -- but beautiful -- watch iguana. Mojo, as she is named, is at this moment sunning herself on the balcony of my office. The photo above shows Mojo in her customary habitat: a massive iguana "condo" that takes up nearly half of one of the downstairs offices.

As cushy as her lifestyle may be, Mojo occasionally gets cabin fever and either rampages around the research department or attacks her "evil twin" in the mirror. Watch your head if you're coming in the front door; Mojo recently leapt off the second-floor balcony in pursuit of (we presume) some fat, juicy pigeons and suffered no injury whatsoever. She's one tough little hombre.

Menopause The Musical: I don't mean it pejoratively when I say that if you like this sort of thing, then this is the sort of thing you'll like. Either you get the joke(s) or you don't. It's that simple.

Oscar Goodman's pet project, the so-called "Mob museum" just got whacked, albeit not fatally ... we think.

Case Bets: Fasolt, etc.

Thu, 12 Mar 2009 15:17:00 -0700

A reader has asked how Fasolt got his name. I'm to blame for that, because he was called "Marble" when I met him. He was living in a foster home in Minneapolis, after a woman had thrown out her boyfriend and his cat, but not before her bratty kids has smeared bubble gum in his (the cat's, that is) fur. "Marble" was a logical reference to his coloration but it's also cold, smooth and impersonal ... in short, nothing like the friendly and gently inquisitive -- albeit huge -- cat to whom I was introduced.

Fifty bucks later (the best $50 I ever spent), the mega-kitty was mine but the name had to go. Casting about for inspiration, my mind fell upon Fasolt, the soft-hearted giant from Richard Wagner's opera Das Rheingold. In it, Fasolt has a surly brother, Fafner, who clubs him to death in an argument over some gold. Fasolt, to his credit, only had eyes for the goddess of spring, Freia, but once the brothers are persuaded to take mere money instead, they're at each other's throats in nothing flat. (Allegory much?)

Fasolt, the giant, as portrayed in the Bayreuth Festival's 1980 revival of Das Rheingold.

Since Fasolt is the only character in the Ring of the Nibelung whose morality doesn't come into question at some point, he made a perfect namesake for my new feline friend. It's been the despair of veterinarians, who always misprononounce his name "fasOLT," but they've come to love him so much, I no longer mind. He lives with two Norwegian Forest Cats, Shadow and Mr. Bit, so that's a lot of plus-sized felines lumbering around my little pied-a-terre.

Magic's a Drag: I was persuaded to see it last night and, yes, it is indeed a drag. How anyone can justify $50 a ticket for such a cheaptastic show is beyond me -- especially when you can now get into Cirque du Soleil's Love for as little as $60.

Dix Nix Snix: Some gay-bar hanky-panky (third item) will cost Snick's $50K and a sex-, er, six-month loss of its slot route, unless the Nevada Gaming Commission overrules an already lenient settlement. Moral: Sex and slots don't mix.

Actually ... I can think of some off-color variants of that lesson, but I'll spare you.

Quote of the Day

Tue, 10 Mar 2009 12:09:00 -0700

"Kinda makes the colossal collapse of the Strip seem insignificant, for a moment, doesn't it?" -- from a kind-hearted reader's e-mail regarding the disappearance of my oldest cat and best friend, Fasolt.

On a personal note

Mon, 09 Mar 2009 11:20:00 -0700

My biggest, oldest, friendliest cat, Fasolt, went missing last night. The 17-year-old Maine Coon cat evidently slipped out a loose screen window when no one was looking. Several searches have proven fruitless. Since 1995, he's been my closest and most faithful friend, and he rode in the cabin with me on that fateful Jan. 7, 1999 flight that brought me to Las Vegas to begin a new chapter -- more like a book -- in my life. No stowing in the baggage hold for my best pal!

Anyway, if I seem MIA today or soon thereafter, now you know why.

Mont-blew it; more E-Can; Trump struggling

Fri, 05 Sep 2008 13:45:00 -0700

"Montbleu screwed our pooch." That's the conclusion of Chuck Monster, who chronicles a bait-and-switch at the former Caesars Tahoe. It's now part of the prospering casino fleet that is Columbia Sussex and its "pet friendly" package turned out to be more like "pet indifferent." After withholding it for a full year, in hopes of a partial refund that materialized, Chuck has finally released a Montbleu-by-blow account.

New casino overseer Scott Butera may be promising a new, improved Tropicana Entertainment but, from what Chuck says, it's still ColSux as usual for the time being. At least the incident gave him excuse to post numerous photos of Montbleu being inspected by a totally adorable pug named Maxine, who is certain to steal your heart.

E-Can makes the rounds. The reviews of Eastside Cannery keep rolling in. There's a Compton/Dancer critique of its gambling value (good). Steve Friess went a while back and was mildly amused/bemused. For his part, Chuck Monster deconstructs its decor. Our new issue of Las Vegas Advisor contains a lengthy appraisal by Anthony Curtis.

Trumped. Perhaps the single most interesting fact in Chuck's review is buried way down at the end and it's this: On an upcoming weekend, when E-Can is commanding $129/night ($1 less than Circus Circus), rooms at Trump International are going for $163/night -- $38/night less than Excalibur. Yes, Excalibur! (And $346/night less than Wynn Las Vegas.) Can you say "bomb"? I thought you could.

America's biggest celebrity

Thu, 31 Jul 2008 12:57:00 -0700

Sen. John McCain's presidential campaign rolled out a unique tactic this week: complaining that McCain's opponent is more popular and famous. I suppose you could call it "out of the box" thinking, though it seems a tad whiny to me.

(McCain's ad about Hispanic-Americans shows a far nobler side and is notable for its sobriety and lack of flash. It also takes some cojones to run it, given the virulent anti-Latino sentiment that infects much of the GOP "base" (in multiple senses of the word), especially here in Nevada.

But the McCain people have it all wrong. America's heftiest celebrity is 44-pound stray cat Princess Chunk, the heaviest domestic pussycat in the world. This exemplar of avoirdupois is already scheduled to appear on Good Morning America and Live with Regis and Kelly. Surely the Today show is chomping at the bit to get in on the action. News of the giant feline has made headlines at least as far as Australia -- although I seriously doubt that an American cat-caregiver would say, "how do you lose a 20-kilo cat?" (Journalistic license, mayhap?)

Even Princess (né Captain) Chunk's gender is a source of confusion, so we may to settle on plain old "Chunk." Or "Powder," its given name. And, in a "ripped from the headlines" touch worth of Law & Order, it turns out that Chunk/Powder is just the latest victim of the nationwide foreclosure crisis. Powder's elderly owner found herself out on the street and turned the poor -- if portly -- kitty loose, which is why it was found lumbering about Voorhees, N.J., which sure is getting its 15 minutes of fame.

Anyway, it looks like the behemoth feline will soon find a new home -- and if he/she/it doesn't, maybe Mandalay Bay can give it a comfy domicile. Chunk/Powder might even outdraw that other big bruiser, the Komodo Dragon.

Honey, I shrank Lake Las Vegas

Wed, 30 Jul 2008 12:57:00 -0700

Saying that a potentially ruptured pipe could drain Lake Las Vegas and turn it into one big-ass mud puddle in the desert conjures up quite an image. It's also effective rhetoric if you're trying to stampede the bankruptcy court into approving a $127 million loan, no questions asked (or at least answered). If asked to make a bet, I'd place my wager with the Nevada state engineer who puts the chances of a big sucking sound at Lake Las Vegas "way out there." (The big sucking sound that is the resort community's financial future is another matter entirely.)

And, if it does happen, the first thought that sprang to my mind was the same one that Steve Friess had, namely that the A-list likes of Celine Dion and Natalie Gulbis won't be any too thrilled "to live around a big, smelly pit full of stuff that reckless boaters have been pitching overboard for years." Heck, I tried wading out there recently and the lake water is pretty dodgy as it is.

Lake LV is starting to look like the second coming of The Resort at Summerlin, which some may remember as Swiss Casinos' vastly overbudgeted venture into the suburban Vegas market. (Its casino is now managed by the Cannery Resorts folks.) Problems like excessive cost and executive hubris aside, R@S failed in large part because it tried to create a market out of thin air: Palm Springs-style golf vacations which would involve coming to Vegas but staying well away from the Strip. As a business model, it didn't live up the hype.

I've held off saying this for a long time, but Lake LV displays some of the same symptoms. It's too close to the Strip to qualify as a getaway and yet far enough away to make it a real hassle if you want to stay out there and yet still experience Sin City at its finest. (The jury's still out on whether similar factors will dampen Red Rock Resort's high-end aspirations, making it "just" an extremely swanky locals casino with fantastic meeting facilities.)

Not to put too fine a point on it: It's a pain in the ass to get to Lake LV and some of that appears to be literally by design. Its landscaping and narrow, winding approach connote exclusivity, as does much else there (like the flighty retail offerings). You half-expect snipers hidden in the rocks to pick off vehicles deemed insufficiently chi-chi. So the local market is unlikely to embrace or even have much use for it. After all, you'd have to be a mighty hardcore player to drive all the way out to Casino MonteLago (above) when it entails bypassing numerous gambling options, including Fiesta Henderson, to get there.

Palms Springs is Palm Springs in large part because it is isolated. You couldn't achieve something like that, say, just 17 miles outside of San Diego. Same with Lake LV, R@S, etc. Being simultaneously of and yet slightly away from Las Vegas isn't working out so far. Lake LV wants to be a tourist magnet and a hideout for the super-rich, but having it both ways is proving a tightrope act without a net -- or maybe just without a lake, if that pipe doesn't hold.

Penitentiary Station. Did you know that inmates at the Nevada State Prison (the former site of the Warm Springs Hotel) used to be allowed to gamble? It's true (see sidebar). Then some spoilsport went and outlawed it in 1967.

Now, it seems to me that with the state facing a revenue crunch and a governor who'd rather close prisons than raise taxes, that our lawmakers have been overlooking an opportunity: Bring back the craps games in the Big House! Heck, throw in some slots while you're at it. Make the holds real tight, too, because it's not like your customer base can take its business elsewhere.

Besides, it might shut up all those soreheads who write to the newspaper to complain that prisoners get paid to make license plates, etc., instead of being used as slave labor or as fodder for medical experiments. Convicts' wages would just be going right back into the state treasury -- after United Coin or whomever takes its cut, of course. Maybe it'd be the business opportunity that snaps slot-route operator Herbst Gaming out of its doldrums. Why, it's a state/private sector win-win!

And I thought my cats were heavy. You could put my threesome on the scale together and they'd still be outweighed by 44-lb. Princess Chunk, found "waddling around" Voorhees, N.J., last weekend. Sounds like some feral cats -- well, one anyway -- have been eating even better than ones who have a predictable source of food and three squares a day.

Equal time for dogs

Wed, 20 Feb 2008 16:28:00 -0700

Given the groundswell of interest in the misadventures of Chubby, our would-be office cat, and Mojo, our fearsome 'watch lizard,' I've been asking around about other Huntington Press critters. Bethany Coffey, our marketing guru sans pareil, offers this contribution about her dog Flocki.

"He’s a four-year-old German Wirehaired Pointer mix (mixed with what, I couldn’t guess, he may even be a purebred for all I know). I adopted him last October from the Adopt A Rescue Pet organization. They save dogs from being put down at the other shelters and then pay to have them boarded in private facilities. A very good organization.

"While his breeding says he’s a bird dog, he hasn’t been clued in himself. He’s never even noticed a bird, though they’re all over the place in the park near our house. Additionally, he has webbed feet for swimming but is afraid of the water. He does point -- at his food dish when he wants it filled. Also at anything that remotely resembles a toy that might be thrown for a fun game of catch (or keep-away if he’s feeling ornery).

"When I adopted him he weighed in at 48 pounds and was told by one of his caretakers that he’d gotten very depressed since he’d been put in the kennels and wasn’t eating much. His mood has picked up, apparently, because he now tips the scales at a very healthy 70 pounds. He’s no purse puppy, but he doesn’t know it. He loves to crawl on my lap while I’m at the dining room table or on the couch.

"And if I weren’t afraid that Flocki would eat Chubby, I’d take her home myself."

In other news, City Life teases my next report.

Too.Damn.Funny (and other topics)

Tue, 19 Feb 2008 11:08:00 -0700

If you're already maxed-out with rocker will.i.am's "Yes We Can," then you have to check out this mock Time-Life compilation, "Barack With You." It manages to work in Bill Haley & The Comets, Simon & Garfunkel (the original S&G), The B-52s and LL Cool J. It's good for more than a few laughs to start the day.

Say what you like about the casino industry, it's lifted quite a few people out of poverty, and brought jobs and tourism to formerly blighted areas. Which is a good thing when you consider the toxic effects of poverty and its ability to drag down future generations.

Which is why Las Vegas, New Orleans, Atlantic City, Gary, Biloxi and other casino-fueled metropolises, in addition to good-paying jobs, need good schools to go with them. And why it's again important to note that the votes that pushed Pinnacle Entertainment's Riviere project in East Baton Rouge over the top came from predominantly black precincts, not white-dominated ones. They knew a good thing when they saw it.

Chubby, Huntington Press' unofficial cat-in-residence is going to have to remain an outdoor kitty, sad to report. The beautiful, if rather stout, feral feline took to our researchers like a duck to water. Sadly, she also took an inordinate amount of interest in Mojo, our fierce resident iguana. Chubby kept trying to bust into Mojo's three-story domain and it was a situation that was unlikely to end well for either of them. So if you see Chubby hanging around outside HP HQ, give her some TLC and assure her it was nothing personal, just business.