It was chaos, it was horrific, it was like 9/11 … only with no casualties … and lots of porn.

Driving west on Sahara, we noticed a cascade of leaflets blowing down the street like some kind of freak storm.

When we got in the midst of it, we were surrounded by paper boobies and bethonged butts.

I didn’t pull out my camera nearly quickly enough, because most of the densely flowing porn was well behind us by the time I got it out, but I did catch a small portion of it.

What kind of monster, what kind of criminal mastermind could have pulled off this horrific event?

As we got closer to the scene of the crime, it was apparent what had happened.

A titty terrorist had struck the twin porn racks with some kind of blunt object, releasing all of the fresh porn it contained onto the mean streets of Sahara Ave.

We will not forget Porn 11.

As a nation it is time for reflection.

We have to ask ourselves … how do we protect our porn in the future, and keep it safe from evildoers?

Collectively, we need to make sure that when we come to Las Vegas, we will know what number to dial to have hot Asian sluts delivered directly to our room.

As American citizens, we most show these porn terrorists that they have not won, and that business as usual will carry on.

My fellow Americans. On this sad day when those who wish to do us ill would strike our most treasured asset … porn … I ask you to join with me to send a clear message that they will not win.

If you love America (and we all do) come to Las Vegas immediately, and rent a whore.

They can take our porn, but they will never shake our resolve to bang women for money.

I thank you, and your country thanks you.

People kind of dug Part 1, so today I made one going in the other direction.

I recorded this at about noon today (5 hours ago), so it’s about as current to the state of Las Vegas as you are likely to get online.

I’m still experimenting with various video packages, and I captioned some things along the way. Please bear with the marginal quality. Once I settle on something, I can smooth these things out a bit.

I didn’t label everything, because everyone pretty much knows what everything is … but I did throw some text in there this time.

And you get Guns N’ Roses again.

Don’t bitch to me about getting GNR. This was a live recording from Las Vegas (if you make it to the end, that will become apparent) in 1993 with the original lineup, and it’s about 6 minutes long, which fit the running time of the video. It also continues the theme from Part 1.

If you hate Axl, hit “mute”, and blast the tunes of your choice. Pretty much anything works for this stuff.

I’m sorry, I still outright refuse to choreograph anything to Elvis or Sinatra.

I’ll use the Backstreet Boys first.

The swinging martini days are far too cliche’ for my tastes, but feel free to play Frank on your own computer while watching the video.

I also slowed it down a tiny bit for the people who got sick watching the first one, but I didn’t slow it down too much. Nobody wants to watch a 30 minute ride down The Strip.

It would be far easier to just slap them up there as-is, and takes a bit of effort to speed them up, but I didn’t want to subject you to “Stuck In Traffic: The Movie”.

As for Las Vegas as a whole this weekend …

Again, it was not crowded.

I’m not trying to beat a dead horse, just making the observation. People that aren’t here kind of want to know what’s going down.

Most towns would be thrilled with even our current crowds, and there were plenty of people around, but nothing like summer weekends past.

There is also some decent footage of the City Center construction up close at about the 4 minute mark of the video for those who are interested.

I hope you had a good weekend.

If you are into these things, hit “play” above.

Enjoy.

Another week, another two dozen questions about the “$20 trick”.

This supposed “trick” is the thing of such lore, it is so popular … that there are entire websites and forums devoted to the very topic.

I always avoid answering the question, and I generally stay out of the threads altogether about the topic.

Why?

Because I don’t want to insult people and kill the fun of this little endeavor.

However, now I think the point has come where someone needs to state the obvious.

Sadly, that responsibility usually falls on me.

I’m going to let you all in on a little secret. There is no such thing as the $20 trick!!!

It’s like “tricking” the cocktail waitress into bringing your drinks faster by tipping her more.

There is no “trick” to it whatsoever.

Since the dawn of mankind, people have paid other people to do shit. The more they paid them, the more shit they’d do.

When did that become a “trick”?

Oh yes, I know, much like taking Dean Martin or Paradise instead of Las Vegas Boulevard … the $20 “trick” is supposed to be one of those little things that signal to others that you are oh so “Vegasy”.

However, much like shouting “Vegas, Baby!”, regaling people with tales of the “$20 trick” will now also reserve you a pristine spot in the Vegas Douchehole Hall of Fame.

Do you really think you are “tricking” the desk people? Do you really think they are that damn stupid? Do you really think it is your little secret?

Do you really think the hotel owners don’t know about it? Do you think the supervisors don’t know about it? Do you think the other tourists in line don’t know about it?

REALLY???

I have to tell you, these people didn’t just fall off of the crapwagon yesterday. They’ve seen and heard all of the nonsense.

And what is the “slipping a bill” all about anyway? You think the casino cameras are that antiquated? Do you think they have a resolution of 20 x 40 pixels? Do you think they are using these things?

The self-delusion that one is participating in a covert activity by using a $20 bill to get a better room borders on the pathologically insane.

If it makes you feel like a big shot, fine … but why not just go all the way? Palm the thing in one hand, hold a martini in the other, bobble your head a bit, and say “Thanks Dollface, get a little something nice for yourself.”

Maybe brush her on the chin with your fist and wink while you say it.

I mean, if you are going to be a poser, don’t half ass it … douche it up!

But it is not necessary.

If you must pre-pay, slap that thing on the counter and say “What will this get me?”

Wave a flag, do a little dance, it doesn’t matter.

The clerks know they are being bribed. It’s part of the job. It’s not a super-secret wink and nod between you and the clerk, I swear. They don’t cross their heart, hope to die, and stick a needle in their eye in a sworn secrecy pact.

Instead, they go in the break room and say “I made $200 today from the wannabe CIA operatives.”

This is not espionage, and you haven’t tricked anyone but yourself.

If you book a regular room, and you get put in a suite, it’s not like nobody but you and the clerk know.

There is no way for the clerk to “discreetly” award an upgrade just for you without the boss knowing.  They have these things called “computers” now, and “reservation systems” and the beancounters know who paid what for which room. It’s all electronic now.

It’s not like the clerk booked the room on her personal laptop, and then took the laptop home.

The several hundred people who have access to the reservation system are fully aware of what transpired.

While people like to think they got away with something special due to a clever “trick”, the fact is that everyone from the maid to the CEO knows that you got a bribe upgrade. They just don’t care, because one would have been sitting empty anyway.  They aren’t going to bump someone from a reserved suite down to  standard room because you flaunted a $20 bill in their face.

“Sorry, Sir, the suite you booked is no longer available … some cheapskate slipped me a $20 bill, and I just couldn’t resist.  You’ll be sleeping in the parking garage tonight.”

If anything, you will sometimes get a lessor upgrade, because the clerk already knows what they are getting, and the incentive is gone. If you think it’s awkward slipping the bill … try asking for it back when they “upgrade” you five steps closer to the elevator. Sure, the clerks appreciate the side money, but they really do think you are a buffoon because of the way you go about it.  And you are.

Have I ever used the “$20 trick”?

Not only no, but hell no!

I do not under any circumstances slip a $20 bill under my driver’s license like some nimrod from Connecticut nervously trying to score crack on 138th Street in The Bronx.

Have I gotten room upgrades?

Yes, almost every time.

“Gee, Rex, how is it that you get room upgrades without pulling a folded up $20 bill out of your ass crack?”

I’ll tell you how, but you have to promise not to tell anyone else, because this is my little “trick”, and since I perfected it, you can’t use it.

Ready?

Here it is …. I speak to the clerks.

Yeah, I kid you not, I just stroll right up and talk to them.

Novel idea, no?

Clerk: “Good evening”

Me: “Yeah let me ask you something, I know I booked the cheapskate room, but how much will I need to bribe you for a better room, or a strip view on a high floor?”

Clerk: (usually laughing a bit) “Let me see what is available.”

I have never been quoted a price unless it is an official upgrade on the books.

If they can do something without triggering a house charge, then I tip them accordingly.

If they can move me from the 4th floor to the 8th floor, but the room is otherwise identical, I give them five bucks. It’s not worth an extra $20, and we both know it. Or if it is not something I am interested in, I just say “ahh, never mind, I’ll just keep what I have”, and they understand. There is no unnecessary awkwardness.

If they move me to a suite, I give them a reasonable tip depending on the quality of the property and type of suite.

The point is, you don’t need to go through all of that “trick” nonsense. You don’t need to wonder if you are going to get your money’s worth by slipping a twenty under your license.

I tell the clerks that I intend to bribe them by tipping them for an upgrade. I don’t insult their intelligence. And they all seem to be intuitive enough to know that the better the upgrade, the better the tip.

It is oh … so … much easier than the weird mis-communication dance that most tourists are taught to do … almost always by other tourists who honestly think there is some kind of skill to the endeavor.

There isn’t.

What are my results using my own method I call the “honesty trick”?

I almost always get an upgrade. When I mention the word “bribe” the clerks usually lighten up and chuckle, and then simply tell me they will see what they can do for me. I swear they respect you ten times more if you just cut the bullshit, and tell them what your goal is. If you have a price limit, state it. “I can only bribe you twenty bucks for the upgrade, so make sure it is something that we will both be happy with for that price.”

Just speak to the people. It’s not illegal to bribe a hotel clerk. They aren’t government officials. If they can do something, they will, if they can’t, they won’t.

Period.

Now, if you really want a sweet upgrade, always, and I mean always as for the “VegasRex upgrade”.

You’ll thank me later.

Let’s face reality. Las Vegas is knee-deep in shit.

The Governor of Nevada addressed us on local TV this week, and informed us that we are in the worst shape we have ever been since the inception of the State of Nevada.

Sweet!

I’m watching history being made.

He said that the decline in tourism is hurting us on all levels, especially our “schools”.

You heard right. You are actually harming our children by not gambling more.

I personally believe the children are our future. Teach them well and let them lead the way. Show them all the beauty they posses inside. Give them a sense of pride to make it easier. Let the children’s laughter remind us how we used to be.

At least that’s my opinion.

If you really cared about the future of our nation, you would come out here and get blind stinking drunk, bang some whores, and gamble until you had nothing left.

Little Johnny needs to read, and if you leave Vegas a winner, or don’t come at all, then you are condoning illiteracy.

Frankly, I don’t know how you can sleep at night.

Anyway …

The national economy is in the toilet, airlines are cutting flights to Vegas across the board (up to half), room rates are falling, and people are spending less when they get here.

Layoffs are happening, and jobs are scarce, if not non-existent.

My regular cab driver told me that he’s making 30%-40% less this year than the same time last year.

But wait, there’s more …

As we get further into the quagmire, morale is suffering, and service is getting worse.

Make no mistake about it. Las Vegas hates you.

Clerks and waiters act like they are doing you a fat, fucking favor by doing their job, and there is general contempt for the tourist to be found everywhere. Hell, we drop your ass 15 floors in elevators for our own personal amusement now.

Employees have been put on notice that potential layoffs are hanging over their heads, and being that there is certainly no upward mobility left, what’s the point in trying?

To stem the cash hemorrhage, properties are tightening up, or nickel and diming the customer to death.

Hell, if you’re not playing max coin, you may not even get a beverage.

And these actions turn off the customer in return.

It’s a vicious cycle.

But wait, there’s even more!

Just as current hotel room rates are falling in response to waning demand, a bunch of new properties are scheduled to add a large influx of rooms to the current supply in the near future.

It’s going to be more fun than watching a pig roll in shit to see how they manage this supply/demand imbalance.

But all is not lost. The LVCVA (the folks who brought you “Your Vegas Is Showing”) thinks they have found a solution.

And that solution is … Foreigners!

Because we are domestically beyond hope, Vegas is going to start targeting the overseas market much more heavily, in the hopes that they will bail the city out.

You see, there are some countries left on earth that still have a currency.

Gasoline isn’t really $4.00/gallon.

Our dollar is just worth fifty cents now.

All Hail The Federal Fucking Reserve. (Go ahead and spend it, we’ll print more!)

Since the inception of the Federal Reserve Act in 1913, the U.S. dollar is now worth 4.6 cents.

Way to go, guys!

If the country hadn’t handed our entire financial system over to your privately-owned expertise, we might have monetary problems.

Perish the thought.

If currency devaluation (they like to call it “inflation” because most Americans think bigger is better) continues at the same rate as it has since the Federal Reserve Act, and petroleum demand remains constant … in 90 short years, gasoline will be in excess of $80.00/gallon.

That’s about $1,600 to fill the tank of a Ford Windstar.

It seems like a long time, but a person born today could conceivably see that happen in their lifetime.

Holy shit, I sound like Ross Perot.

The point is, Las Vegas is now targeting pinko communists (because they have health care) from England, France, Australia, Canada, hell we don’t give a damn as long as they have money.

If anyone from overseas is reading this. Consider this a personal plea to save my city.

Bring your funny accents and weird customs. They are welcome here!

Except for soccer. Please leave that behind. Soccer rates just behind “genocide” on the list of crimes against humanity, and we must stop its spread at all costs.

As the self-appointed official Ambassador of Las Vegas, I would like to be the first to extend a hearty welcome to our new socialist (because they have health care) overlords!

There was a fairly positive response to my previous choreography of the Bellagio Fountains. However, it was very much a US-centric fountain show inasmuch as it only addressed racial slurs and gang violence. We Americans really do think that we are the center of the universe, and it was inconsiderate to my fascist (because they have health care) readers.

This time, I have collaborated (unofficially) with the Bellagio to offer a completely new show with a much more International flavor … I mean “flavour”.

Therefore, without further ado, I present the official Las Vegas welcome to our communist (because they have health care) tourists from Great Britain:

It’s my Birthday. I’m officially “old”. And not in the cutesy “he, he, I just turned 29 and I am old now” kind of way. More like “Holy shit, I really am old because I am well past the halfway point of my life expectancy, and statistically, the majority of my life IS over.”

As a matter of fact, I walked down the street this morning and a mound of dirt shouted to me “Damn motherfucker, you’re old! I ain’t never gonna be as old as your old ass.”

I have already had the discussion with people that tell me that age is “only a number”.

While I appreciate their attempt at fomenting a positive outlook on the subject, the fact is that they are woefully incorrect.

Old people like myself feel the need to lie to ourselves.

The average life expectancy for US males is 75 years versus 81 years for females. So much for the “women’s health crisis” nonsense that the morning shows cram down our lemming throats nearly every day.

But I digress …

The point is that statistically, at 40, the majority of our lives are behind us. We are not going to live again as long as we already have. And the latter part will be fraught with all kinds of health problems we could never dream of: lessening mobility, deteriorating mental sharpness, diabetes, coronary artery disease, cancer, limp dicks, sagging ballsacks, growing prostates, ear hair, you name it.

By natural design, it is going to be a living hell … which, as we fight to survive and make the best of, and regardless of what we do or how we handle it … still ends in one way, and only one way.

Death.

So while it is “just a number” … so is the winning lottery ticket. Or the amount on your mortgage.

The “number” still has meaning and repercussions.

In our case, it represents that we are growing ever more precariously close to the ultimate dirt nap.

On the bright side, there usually is some kind of cake involved on the day itself.

Thank goodness there is no age limit for creating self-indulgent, bullshit websites with your name gratuitously stamped in the URL like a desperate attention whore … and proceeding to write lengthy diatribes about yourself like anyone remotely cares.

I don’t feel like posting any “Vegasy” shit today. I’m going out to buy some Depends undergarments, arthritis cream, and Viagra so I can continue to keep the livestock happy.

Send presents or go to hell.

Thank you.