Greetings from Las Vegas, Nevada – – specifically, the Bellagio Hotel, where I'll be spending the next three days speaking, mixing, and mingling.
I think someone forgot to tell the Bellagio that Las Vegas is having a slump. This place is a zoo, and the check-in procedure takes way longer than checking in at an airport. Here's a snapshot of the zoo in progress, and I've circled none other than Tom Sosnoff, off the in the distance, enjoying himself as much as I was.
Those who have read my blog for a while know I have this hang-up about authenticity, which is why – – sorry, America! – – I hate this town. Everything about it is fake. The buildings are fake (Eiffel Tower, Chrysler Building, etc.) The collagen-bloated lips are fake. The tits are fake. The smiles are fake. It's like a bull's paradise.
The most pathetic thing I have seen so far (and I've only been here a few minutes, so I'm sure there will be ample other opportunities) was this woman who had the whole schmear done to herself – – – thick, permanent eyeliner; dolled-up blonde hair; a skimpy bathing suit; huge, obviously fake breasts. And I'd say she was probably around 65 or so. ("The goggles! They do nothing!")
There's just no dignity here. Until now. Step aside, Vegas! Slope is in town! Now where's my Pinot?
