... and winners never — die?

There was a hearse parked in front of one of the crappy weekly apartment places on Sixth Street the other night — not one there on official business, although that wouldn't have been surprising. It was old, something from the 1970s, maybe, with the paint blasted off the hood by years of sunlight and frayed curtains in the back windows.

Still, the owner went the extra mile and got a vanity license plate.

Which was this: QUITTRS.

It really said that.

See: Redundant

The second one bothers me more because somebody paid a professional to make it. That means nobody involved took the time to say, "Uh, dude?"


Full disclosure: I've been walking past this sign almost every day for most of a year and only noticed the goof last week. So, overall, not a lot of attention to detail on this block.

Mr. Helpful

He had a smile on his face as he sat on the street corner, feasting on takeout noodles and laughing a henchman's laugh to himself.

As I walked by, he said, "How far is it to Memphis from here?"

"A long way," I said.

And he thanked me.

Not quite a civil rights struggle

Oh, the humanity:

When Todd Phillips looks to the future in Las Vegas, he says he sees a day when everyone, regardless of gender, will have to pay the same price to get into a nightclub.

That vision, he says, became clearer Monday when a decision was handed down by the Nevada Equal Rights Commission on a complaint he brought a year ago after his wife got a free gym membership and he didn't.

To paraphrase Office Space: Who the @#*! is this ass-clown?

The Las Vegas Athletic Club, our local chain of very fine megagyms, regularly runs a special in which ladies can join free. This wanker apparently has a problem with that. And because of his problem, now an entire sector of the economy is in a dither because of the NERC, in its wisdom, said the practice is discriminatory. So what does this do to ladies nights? What about our fancy nightclubs and "adult" pools, which charge different admission prices for men and women? There are lawsuits a-comin'.

Phillips ... said he thinks letting women into health clubs or nightclubs free is demeaning to them. It reinforces the idea, he said, that women do not earn as much money as men.

Actually, it reinforces the idea that these businesses want female customers. Because then they'll get more male customers, who will spend money trying to meet the female customers. (Also, according to LVAC, women are more diligent about paying their membership dues, so the club doesn't feel they have to get the money up front.)

Like I said — Ass. Clown. And he has a wife! Isn't your spouse supposed to let you know when you're being an ass-clown? That's one of the benefits of having a partner — there's someone who can pat you on the arm and say, "Take a deep breath, dear," and you'll actually listen to them!

Okay, two more things:

1. I joined LVAC and paid, I think, a $1 signup fee. (Phillips paid $10; his wife was free.) I think most gyms will waive the fee to get your business. They make far more on a membership than they would with a fee.

2. This has been covered in other states as well, but it was handled best by the Daily Show, which covered the well-known Colorado case:



Wankers.

Freakish

The last few days there have been strange formations in the sky. Fluffy, amorphous, ranging in color from bright white to dark gray. They block out the sun. And sometimes, when they're covering the sky, water falls out of thin air!

Yes, it's been that long since it rained.

So why aren't we all blind by now?

I was at the Fremont Street Experience with an out-of-town friend a little while ago, and she was highly amused at one of the light shows — the one with the bikini girls dressed as firefighters who are tugging on a fire hose, making it longer and longer. I just shrugged, but it made me think about how much of this stuff you're bombarded with living here — and it's not just the free porn all over the streets.

Take the "adult" pools at the various casino resorts, with their "European" or "Brazilian" (at the Rio) experiences. Translated, that means "bare titties." The pools are heavily, and sexily, advertised everywhere, and raise barely an eyebrow. The Pond at Green Valley Ranch has the best ad I've seen:


No, I haven't been, and I probably won't until I have washboard abs — which is to say, like, never. (And if it's skinny dipping, why does she have clothes on? Not that I mind the heels.)

Green Valley Ranch is actually out in the suburbs, so I'm a little surprised they've got the naughty pool. I'd just assumed those were reserved for the raunchier Strip-area properties. Sadly, the truth about these places looks a little bit more like what's delicately called a "sausage festival," at least according to this photo in a recent Las Vegas Weekly:


Not quite what I had in mind.

Thing is, this stuff is everywhere. Like, at the shuttered-for-now Lady Luck casino, there's this sign:



See? They'll be back soon. Which of course calls for a picture of a naked lady's back. Makes perfect sense.

But my favorite out-of-place, wacky, sex sells example is off the beaten path a little — it's in the industrial part of Main Street, a bit south of all the downtown lights:


Look, if I ever do need bail, it's going to be BECAUSE of a girl dressed as a slutty cop. Who's wearing heels.

Numerology

"Excuse me," the woman said, motioning me to stop. "Can you help me with something?"

Since I'd already slowed down and made eye contact, I figured I didn't have much of a choice. Besides, she looked like a tourist — purple flowery shirt, makeup spread with a frosting knife — and I figured she just wanted directions.

She did. Sort of.

"If I wanted to tell what bit me, a mouse or a rat, when I was sleeping, how would I do that?" she said. "Would I get a tetanus shot?"

You see, I'm not a doctor, but I look like one to strangers when I'm walking down the street.

"I have no idea," I said, grinning in spite of all my efforts not to. Then I strolled off.

"It cost me $600 at the hospital to ...." — do something. She was calling after me, but I was out of earshot quickly.

But ... wait a minute. $600? That's weird.

That's the amount this woman ranted about the other day as she complained about a jaywalking ticket. Then I get Random Mouse Lady, and of course in the next 10 days I'm expecting $600 from the federal government as President George "Winkerbean" Bush makes good on his second attempt to bribe people into believing the economy's okay.

Is it a warning? Beware of jaywalking, hospitals and mice? (And/or rats?) Is Bush going to jaywalk and end up in the hospital?

Is Cheney going to shoot someone in the face again, necessitating a tetanus shot?

Maybe it's just that I was raised on devil rock and any grouping of 666 gets my attention. But I'm a little confused on the math.

Do I use 600/600/600, which would be the power of the devil multiplied by 100? (Scary!)

Or do I use 1,800, which would be the power of the devil times 2.7? (Not so scary.)

Somehow, the decimal point makes Ol' Scratch less intimidating. HA!


OVERHEARD ON THE STREETS OF VEGAS: "I figured if I was down here, I'd remember where I was. I remember that beer."