Show ends at 3 in the afternoon, packing materials delivered at 7. Guess who’s playing the part of Larry in Shipping. Lovely.

I should go over to Caesar’s and play some cards, but eff me if my feets don’t feel like they’re about to fall off. Booze first, then we’ll see.

This is the lowest amount of boozin’-n-gamblin’ I’ve ever done in Vegas. Business will do that to you. I’m having a hard time deciding what I like most, too, and that’s challenging my mental image of myself.

Day Zero: great day of setup; everything works flawlessly.
(Lose $100 playing blackjack with partners)
Day One: laptop disaster strikes; backup laptop unlicensed; scramble; tap-dance; hoarse; trade-show foot.
(Lose $60 playing video poker while discussing ‘what now?’ plans)
(Win $30 playing normal 1/2 NLHE at the low-energy Flamingo poker room (with brown felt on the tables))

Whee.

Las Vegas is the last place on earth where you will pay $150 for a hotel room and you don’t get one of those dinky coffee makers to make your initial morning go-juice. Fine…if they insist, I’ll go downstairs and scare the customers with my Don King bedhead. No skin off my nose.

I love, love, love this version. Since I’m headed thataway, why not?

75% of my nights out there will be school nights, and I can no longer do the three hours of sleep thing and still function, so it won’t be easy to squeeze in poker. But I’ve got Friday night to look forward to, with an afternoon departure.

So is there a mid-year WPBT? Built around the WSOP? Somebody say yes, please.

Good, nay, great news on cell-phone talkers:
Update: FCC ready to continue cell phone ban on flights

Just the thought of sitting next to some ditzy teenager with a rap song for a ringtone, or a hausfrau catching up on the coffeeklatch goings-on, or Mr. Uber-Important, over a two-hour flight makes me feel bloody. And I’m a big fan of cellphones.

Now, if they want to turn data only on, that I’m cool with, though I suspect I’d get half as bloody with the little dings and chimes and bleeps of text messages. And, of course, if the operators get their most fervent wishes, we’ll have mobile entertainment to deal with…just imagine the dipstick next to you chortling his way through whatever garbage he would normally be sucking down at home. Here’s some mobile entertainment for you: it’s light, portable, unobtrusive, serially sharable, has very low power requirements, practically no RF emissions, and is rock-solid proven technology:

This is called a “book”

Rick Moran:

The netnuts are in their anti-Rovian dream state again, believing like Dorothy that if they click their heels together three times wearing the magic shoes and wish hard enough, Evil Karl will exit the White House in chains. This, too, will make for some great springtime entertainment. Nothing like watching the left have their heads explode when once again, Evil Karl escapes their clutches.

Seriously, the netnuts’ frothing over Karl Rove is some of the funniest stuff on the political interwebs. Even at the height of his dark powers, former Satanic Puppet-master James Carville inspired, not hatred, but respect here in my drowsy, dusty corner of Jebusland. Was that really only ten years ago? Were Righties so spitting mad over him? Anyhoo…

Wayne The Train is always a crazy night, but I’m most happy for the TSC kids to see them playing Hollywoodland. So, heads up, SoCal peeps…hie thee on to Safari Sam’s for a West Texas treat.

Via Herself…

The new old house, soon to be a home, is, even though it’s 1 mile from two major freeways, is very tree-y…the contractor who did a lot of the remodeling told me I have 80 trees in my little half-acre alone (I’ll take his word for it.) Just now, I saw a very large hawk land briefly in the tree outside my window, then he was gone before I could get up to look at him a little closer.

This would explain the sad little piles of dove feathers I keep finding in the yard.

I’m going to be in Vegas next week doing business. It’s the biggest show of the year, and it’s my latest attempt to get good’s product launch. I’m staying at the Flamingo. If any of my little poker buddies still read this intertube clogger, and you’re going to be around poker Mecca, let me know…I’d love to buy you a drink and not talk business.

I’m going to stay over one extra night at the overpriced Strip hotel, too. Someone give me some hints where to waste my precious time and dollars on cardz. That would be No Limit Hold ‘Em, not HORSE, or triple-draw lowball, or any such insider crap. I like a live game…a bunch of douchebag 20somethings and random Asians in sunglasses trying to stare me down is not interesting. I got enough of that in Dallas. Unless they’re really tell-rich douchebag 20somethings and random Asians, drawing at that inside straight.

What am I saying? I’ll be thrilled to be anywhere in the vicinity of live, legal poker. Those 7am breakfast meetings are gonna be bitch.

If only all American Idol fans would starve themselves to death. The average IQ of the world would go up by at least 25 points.
– Vaughn, at Jessica’s Well

This is what I call a good lunch:

5. Atkin’s Special
Double meat, double cheese, grilled hotdog,
chili, lettuce, tomato, pickle, onion $4.99

Wish more places would do this…

“But it raises some eyebrows, so I thought it best that I resign and not put them in that position.”

– The creator of the anti-Hillary fake Apple ad lookalike (from, ironically in my opinion, 1984)

Gosh, ya think? We were talking about this on the way to lunch, and the first words out of my mouth was that the guy would be outed, and sooner rather than later. Even I, with my humongous brain, did not think it would be this afternoon.

Personally, I’ve accepted that it’s going to brain-damaging to pay any serious, analytical attention to the machinations of these egomaniacal freaks and their followers.

Funny stuff from ex-doorwalker Cole (there’s nothing that approaches the hate of a scorned lover):

A lot of things can be said about this scandal, but the notion that the Democrats might come out looking the worst is a particularly silly one (we’ll chalk it up to wishful thinking).

How does one tell one shit-stained wretch from another one? I imagine you have to look really close.

First sentence of the supporting blockquote from a NYT article that no one will ever read kinda did make me giggle:

United States attorneys have a long history of being insulated from politics.

Fortunately for me, I’ve known a few US Attorneys, and they’re about as “insulated” as that shed in the backyard where you stow your post-hole digger. To hear them tell it from their own mouths, that is…not for a story in a newspaper. Every election is fretting time — serious career blues. Same thing holds true, down through all the various sizes of government teats, too.

Based on my two-person poll, America thinks this: they’re freaking enormously respected lawyers, and they’ll most likely die on beds that Louis XIV would envy. Their great-grandkids will be wiping their…hands with silk kitchen towels. Ideally, I hope for better, but jeez louise, America is no danger from a bag full of cashiered government lawyers. Change the sheets, lady, and go back to sleep.

I just don’t see this happening in a place that hasn’t embraced property rights. ALL property rights.

I hope the feeling’s mutual, because I sure do love dogs.

I briefly entertain getting me a dog, but past results indicate that my future performance is not guaranteed. As soon as I settle on one, I’ll be hying off to India or Siberia or Pennsylvania. Dogs are a reason I want to retire, so I can spend the time with them that they deserve.

That feeling of getting the first PO…

Meantime, I’m either aiding and abetting, or utterly destroying, the career of a budding young bidnessman — I hired a neighborhood kid to mow the lawn. He’s working awfully damn hard…I think this might be his first one — his mama’s been by twice to check on him. I’m going to tip him good, try to encourage him to follow the path of evil Capitalism.

I might have me a couple of pops tonight. I might have had a couple already.