The village idiot of Las Vegas wishes his friend Mad Max a happy new year.

Today's version of the phrase Mad Max is best used as a connotation to describe chaos, disorder and anarchy - Example: "The other day I read an article in the Las Vegas Sun about a guy who got pissed off at a friend of his for sleeping with his wife. The guy was so distraught that he ended up shooting his wife and the friend who slept with her."

The following is a brief excerpt of a conversation I had with a friend of mine from Kansas recently. His nickname is Mad Max. He is an anarchist in every sense of the word:

"What the fuck is wrong with you boy? Don't you know the collapse is coming? You are just another one of the fucking sheep!" One of these days I am going to stop calling him. The conversations tend to be the same - "Furthermore, you stupid prick! Have you started stockpiling all the necessities like I told you?" I have been listening to his anti government rhetoric for close to thirty years. Now that I think about it -- it's been thirty years plus.

A particular incident, when we were kids, stands out to me: He got a ticket for not having his dog fenced -- the next thing you know he's at the pound cursing and threatening the dog catcher -- "How the fuck is she hurting you?" - those were his exact words as he tore the ticket to shreds and threw it in her face, he then added -- "You better get my fucking dog before I get really pissed!" The gal, who was the dog catcher in town at the time, was so frightened by him (just like everyone else came to be) that she gave him back his dog and apologized for giving him a ticket. Looking back, I believe that was the exact moment his disdain for government was born.

"Now listen up moron! I believe the collapse is going to happen somewhere towards the middle of the new year. You would be best to get your stupid ass out of the west and back to Kansas.
I could use the help prepping," the rhetoric tends to grow old quickly. So I wish him a happy new year and tell him I must be on my way - his parting words to me -- "I bought another ten thousand rounds of ammo. You would be well served doing the same. Just remember, the shit house is going to catch fire real soon. Be fucking ready!"

The village idiot of Las Vegas gets some Christmas cheer from his friend Mad Max.

Today's version of the phrase Mad Max is best used as a connotation to describe chaos, disorder and anarchy -- Example: "A guy, who lives just down the street from me, got mad at his dealer for shorting him. He was so pissed that he pulled the dealer from his car and beat him an inch from his life."

Last night I called my friend Mad Max. He is an anarchist in every sense of the word. The following is a brief excerpt of our conversation:

"Shut your pie hole!" I yell rudely, "Every time we talk it is the same bullshit with you. The country isn't going to collapse! It's called change you fucking moron!" I was anticipating a little holiday cheer when I called. What was I thinking? -- "Listen moron," he yells emphatically, "You are going to be the first person to capitulate when the bastards we have running the show declare martial law. Goddammit boy! When are you going to fucking wake up?"

He's been anti establishment since the day he could walk -- "Listen asshole," I say forcefully, "You are one of those guys who gets up in the morning and takes marching orders from Fox News -- I agree with you that things are fucked up in the world, but come on...do you really think an outright collapse is coming?

He begins rattling off everything he can think of (immigration reform, Obama care, federal debt). You name it, he spurted it. "So what!" I say forcefully after his tirade, "What the fuck are you going to do about it?" -- I am pretty far out there, but Mad Max...he's fifty-fold farther. That's disturbing!

"Be a sheep! It's totally up to you," the fifth of Jack Daniel's he swallowed before my calling was beginning to hit overdrive, he then adds - "I will be ready for the collapse. My sources tell me it is imminent in 2015. That's when the new Congress takes office. All I can tell you son. It's coming!"

I can only take so much of his rhetoric, so I tell him I must be on my way and wish him Happy Holidays. His parting words - "You think I am fucking kidding about the state of our country. You think I am crazy. I want to tell you this before I go. When the shit house catches fire, and you have to run for cover. You are welcome to take cover with me. Don't be one of the sheep!"

A disturbing phone call.

"Hey Babe. How are you?" I thought it awkward Roxy would be calling. The other night she emphatically stated we were finished. Could it be she had a change of heart? I was praying for just that when I saw her number on Caller ID today --"Who is this?" - the voice on the other end of the line didn't sound like Roxy.

I check my Caller ID again to make sure I hadn't misread...sure enough it read Roxy. "Who is this?" I ask politely. "This is Chad," a husky voice says, "Why is your number on my girls phone? And why the hell did you say Babe when you answered?" 

Roxy's new boyfriend is named Chad. It didn't take long to put two and two together. He was suspicious, and checking her phone - "I am a friend of Roxy's," I say cautiously, "I call everyone Babe. It's no big deal." There was an awkward silence, and he says - "You fucked her. Didn't you?" I tell him I have no idea what he is talking about and how I must be on my way. Before I can hang up, he yells forcefully -- "She cried all last night! And won't tell me what is wrong," he then yells forcefully again, "You fucked her, didn't you? Man, if I ever see your ass, I am going to pound it!"

I tell him again I have no idea what he is talking about -- "Shut-up!" he yells forcefully yet again, "You had better pray I never see your ass. You hurt her! And that is unacceptable!" I tell him once again I have no idea what he is talking about. I then hang up.

This isn't the first time I've had a telephone conversation with one of Roxy's boyfriends (not at my behest). This poor bloke has no idea what he has gotten himself into. She has him twisted like a pretzel. I understand why he is upset. Men are willing to lay everything on the line for a breed of women like her...she is absolutely alluring!

The village idiot of Las Vegas gets some sad reality from Roxy.

"Jethro - I knew I shouldn't have slept with you again. Jesus, how is a guy who lives in some shit hole in North Las Vegas going to take care of a girl like me? Look, you know that I care for you. But we are never going to be together in the way you want. It is not going to happen!" I called Roxy last night - just to remind her how much I love her. Unfortunately for me, the old Roxy was back - "Furthermore, you know what kind of girl I am. God, as much as I can't stand being called a whore. That's what I am. It is my job to make guys fall in love with me.You need to let go. I have."

I know what kind of girl she is, believe me, I am not that naive. It's just that people change. I know I have. Why can't she? - "Roxy, I know I am a loser, but I am an adorable loser - you even said so. But you also said I had potential. Maybe if we were together you could bring it out," I want to be with her so bad that I will say anything to appease her.

I hear a deep sigh after my remark - and she says, "We make each other feel good when we're together. That's it! That's what I am good at! But to think we could be together all the time is ridiculous," she lets out another deep sigh, and adds, "Jethro, this time I mean it for real. I really do! I am never sleeping with you again. It is too intense. It's not good for either one of us!"

The village idiot of Las Vegas goes to Roxy's hotel room.

I have rolled it over and over in my head a thousand times. She has a hold on me that can't be broken. She's a drug...a very addictive drug.

"Where's Chad?" The text I received Thursday night said she would be in town Friday and wanted to meet around seven. It failed to mention anything about her new beau. "He got caught up at work and won't fly in until tomorrow morning," she tells me with a devilish grin as she guides me by the hand into the room.

Roxy is of the breed of women who instantly brings calm to a man. It's a trait she developed in the many years of her chosen profession. "Jethro," she says in her sultry voice, "Why don't you sit down and let me pour you a drink. Oh, by the way, thanks for scoring me the room. I appreciate it."

She pours the drink, sits next to me on the bed and says - "You look good. It looks like you have lost some weight," I smile and tell her I have been working out and eating healthier - she adds, "I can tell. You are starting to resemble the guy I fell for. Keep it up."

I tried keeping my emotions in check, but the moment proved too much - "Roxy, you are the most beautiful women I have ever seen. You already know how much I love you. I want to be with you more than anything," the conviction in my voice brought a blush to her tan cheeks and a pearly white smile to her face.

"Jethro," she says with a sigh, "Why do you have to say things like that to me? Don't you know what kind of girl I am?" - she gets up from the bed, faces me and adds, "Why do you have to be so fucking adorable?" She then unstraps the tangerine sundress she's wearing and wiggles it all the way to her feet.

Introspect was the last thing on my mind at this point - "Babe," I say as I grab her by the waist and toss her on the bed, "Let's save the psychobabble bullshit for another time."

"You want to see my piercing again," she giggles as I lift her hips from the bed and gently unravel her panties to her ankles...she kicks them off from there. I immediately began kissing her tan, tone stomach. Moments later my face is buried in her lady spot.

"Goddammit Jethro," she moans in ecstasy, "Why do you do this to me? God, this feels so fucking good," a few minutes pass and she purrs, "Are you going to fuck me again?" -- she has a sexy habit of asking the most obvious questions when we are together. It's an absolute turn on! This time I thought it would be funny to use a bit of reverse psychology - "No," I tell her as I crawl off the bed and began peeling my clothes off, "Not going to happen," she smiles after the crack and says, "I seriously doubt that."

I leap back onto the bed, position myself between her legs, grab her by the waist and gently ease her to me. "Goddammit Jethro," she moans in ecstasy yet again, "Tell me one thing before you get started. Are you going to put us being together in your blog again?" I say yes - she says, "Good, your blog sucks nowadays. Now you can give your friends something interesting to read about."

I stayed with her until the wee hours of the morning. We made love a number of times, showered together, ordered room service and talked about all the different things happening in our lives. It was phenomenal!

We are standing at the door, in each other's arms, as I am preparing to leave. I tell her once more how much I love her and how I would give anything to be with her. "Jethro," she cries, "Don't fucking say that! Don't ruin what we have!" - she nudges away from me, wipes tears from her eyes, opens the door and shows me out. "I will talk with you soon," were her parting words as the door closes in my face.

The village idiot of Las Vegas agrees to get Roxy and her new boyfriend a room again.

"Look, Jethro," she says with her sultry voice over the telephone, "I will never ask you to score me a room again. It's just that Chad got a ticket for the fights Saturday night and he wants me to come to Las Vegas with him. I told him you would get us a room. So do what you do Jethro! And find us a room for the weekend!" - It's got to be her audacity that turns me on the most -- No, I know it is!

"Roxy, I told you last time I was never going to get a room for you and one of your boyfriends again. I made it perfectly clear...OK! Find your own room," it's awkward having the women you love ask to line out a hotel room for her and her boyfriend. Being the fool I am --I did it once, but not again...no more laughing stock of the neighborhood...no more!

"Look, Jethro," she says in her sultry voice again, "Why do you have to be so difficult? All I want you to do is call and get me a room. I have to tell you something, and maybe this might change your attitude. I miss you a little - Chad is great, but he is young. All he thinks about is sports and work. He doesn't have the experience you do. So maybe when Chad is at the fights, you could come over and we could...well, you know. But that won't happen if you don't get me a room!"

Sleeping with Roxy is bliss, pure bliss! So when the opportunity comes my way...I take advantage of it - "Look, I will get you a room for the weekend. When do you think we can hook up?" I ask excitedly. "Chad," she says coyly, "Is going to be at the fights Saturday night, and then he will probably go to a strip joint with his buddies. You can come over when he is gone. I promise you can play with my piercing again."

The village idiot of Las Vegas gets a room for Roxy and her new boyfriend.

"I told you I was coming to town this weekend, and you said, 'I will get you a room Roxy.' Those were your exact fucking words. Now I am going to be in town this weekend with Chad. And I am expecting the room you promised me!" Last time we talked I told her I would do what I could to find her a room. I promised her nothing and reminded her of such. "Jethro," she says firmly, "You are starting to piss me off. I have already told Chad I had a room hooked up for us. You need to get on the phone and call whoever it is, and get me a room!"

Let me back up a little and explain the situation better - Roxy has a new boyfriend and she wants me to get a room for the two of them. That's right! The women I love is requesting I get a room for her and her new beau. It's not right in so many aspects - "Look," I tell her, "I find it awkward you are asking me to do this.Why don't you find your own room?" -- she doesn't want to pay for it is the answer to that query,

"Jethro, you are starting to piss me off," she states firmly again, "I have done plenty for you, at no charge, keep in mind. You owe me! If I tell Chad I don't have a room for us. He is going to think I am a clown. You don't want to see that happen. Do you Jethro?" West coast girls have no shame! They are all the same. Anyways, I love her. So I agreed, like a fool, to call my Chinese friends and get a room for her (and her new boyfriend). Jesus, I am the biggest idiot in town.

The village idiot of Las Vegas sets at the negotiating table...

The online food ordering/delivery business is skyrocketing: In its simplest form it is a rather easy concept. A restaurant is placed on a well run website. The food is sold electronically and in turn the website is entitled a percentage of after tax sale. (20-25%) is the industry norm. My research shows today's technology and the application of it will increase exponentially and thus increase the probabilities of revenue as pertains to this field.

The other day my partner (Kam) and I met with a gentlemen, who runs a delivery/food ordering site, at a restaurant in Las Vegas. We gave him a pitch on how beneficial our talents would be for his site. After the glad handling was over - it was time for brass tacks - "Look, we have twenty restaurants we can deliver on a silver platter to you. They are well established in the area and currently not with any competing sites. Furthermore, we've spent an untold effort convincing them electronic coverage is the wave of the future, and they only go if we say so." I then look the gentlemen directly in the eyes and say - "What is in it for us if we deliver on our promise? What kind of revenue sharing agreement would we be looking at?"

After my question, he shuffles in his chair a bit and says - "We typically don't work with aggregator's, but I see what your talking about. I would be willing to give you a one time fee for each restaurant you bring to me. The fee would be one hundred and fifty dollars per restaurant." The key to success in a system like this is negotiating a percentage of sales for each restaurant you control - Example...a successful restaurant will do anywhere from ten to twenty orders a day on a well run site. If the average order is $30 (industry norm). You would be looking at ten to fifteen thousand a month - take 20-25% out of total revenue and you come up with $2000-$3000 as a figure to divvy. Keep in mind the numbers I am quoting is merely one good restauant. Imagine having twenty.

After his response to my query, you could hear a pin drop...literally. Before I could respond, Kam chimes in - "Let me make sure I heard you right. Did you say one hundred and fifty was all we would be entitled to if we hand deliver some gold to you?" he nods his head yes, "Do you think I would take a hundred and fifty dollars and in turn be inclined to hand you over all of these restaurants that we have spent years cultivating relationships with? You will make twenty times that amount in an average month!"

There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment and he says - "I have overhead. I have to pay for the insurance, I am going to provide the system and the driver. I think it is fair," his response was weak, and I told him such - "Look, I understand you have things to deal with. I get it. But the potential for what we are presenting is vast. Your overhead will be a mute point once things start rolling," I then ask him bluntly, "You're interested in putting these restaurants on your site - Right?" He nods his head in agreement, "In that case, we are going to take a slice of the revenue," I then add, in a matter of fact tone, "The hundred fifty bucks your quoting isn't even in the same stratosphere as to what we will do!"

He starts in on the overhead spill again and how he might be able to make it two hundred dollars per restaurant. I couldn't take anymore babble - so I say, "Look man, I know you are new to Las Vegas. And if you want to be the lone wolf...by all means go right ahead. But I can tell you this. No one is going to work with you at the number you are quoting!" He then tells me that is what he pays in Milwaukee. I remind him once again Las Vegas is not Milwaukee. He becomes annoyed by the statement, pushes his chair out from the table and prepares to leave, I say this as he is parting, "Hey man, if I am going to get fucked. It has to be by a blond with blue eyes and a wavy figure. Even a brunette or red head would do the trick. The last person I am going to get fucked by is some guy who just blew into town that I don't even know!"

The village idiot of Las Vegas strikes out again...

The other night I went to the SLS for a drink. It didn't take long to hone in on something. I was for sure she was interested:

"Maybe if you are not doing anything this weekend, we could hang out. Go see a movie or get something to eat. What do you say?" You don't know if you don't ask, that's what I've always been told. "This weekend isn't good for me," she says, "I have some friends coming to town and it just won't work...Sorry." I still feel a vibe, so I say - "Well, if this weekend doesn't work out, how about next weekend or some time during the week? My mother doesn't care if I stay out late on a school night. I am flexible."

She snickers a bit after the line, and says, "I am pretty sure I will be busy all week and next weekend as well...Sorry," - OK, now she has rebuffed my advances twice. Third times a charm - Right? Plus, I could still feel a vibe - "OK, well maybe not next weekend, but what about the weekend after that?" I say, "I'm pretty sure I can find time. Why don't you give me your number and I will call you than," she shrugs her shoulders, rolls her eyes and says, "Dude, you seem a little lax to catch on. So I am going to say this as politely as possible - I am not interested in going out with you at all! Not next week! Not two weeks from now! Not interested ever! Is that easy enough for you to understand?" -- she promptly finishes the twelve dollar drink I bought for her, tells me thanks, gets up from the table and walks away.

The village idiot of Las Vegas talks with Roxy for the first time in four months.

"It has been four months since I last heard your hillbilly voice Jethro. Why don't you ever listen to what I tell you? I don't want to hear or see you anymore. It's nothing personal, you are a good guy. But you just don't have it! So please! For the love of all things holy! Lose my number for good," I didn't know what to say, so I followed my heart - "Roxy, I am sorry if me calling makes you angry. That is not my intention at all. It's just that I love you and I had to tell you again. I don't know what else to say except I love you," I realize, and have for quite a while, she doesn't love me. But just because someone doesn't love you doesn't mean you can't love them. Does that sound too sappy?

"Jethro," she says bluntly, "I swear - you are the most persistent guy I have ever met. You don't know how to take no for an answer. If you weren't so fucking adorable I would be mad at you," I love it when she calls me adorable, it is a signal she is in a good mood, "Well, enough about that, what have you been doing the last four months," she asks. I give her the rundown, which wasn't much, and then ask the same of her.

"Jeff and I are no longer together, I am in a new relationship with a guy I met in La Hoya," she tells me. Jeff, her old boyfriend, is the biggest douche bag in San Diego. I was much relieved to hear her tell me she was rid of him. "Who's the new man?" I ask curiously. "He is a guy I met at the gym," was her response, "He's tall, dark and handsome. I believe I have finally met the man of my dreams Jethro," in a way it hurt for her to say that, but her being happy is more important than any jealousy issues I have. I then try prying a little more info about her new beau and she responds in a manner I have become accustom to - "Jethro, it is none of your business who I spend time with...OK!"

We chat a little more and then she says - "Chad and I are going to come to Las Vegas in a few weeks for the fights. He is a huge fight fan. Now that I have you hear. Do you think you could talk with your Chinese friends about scoring us a room," how many guys can honestly say the women they love has asked them to get her a room for her and her boyfriend? Probably more than I think. Anyways, I told her I would do what I could and she says this in parting - "Jethro, it really is good to hear your voice. I don't really mean it when I say I don't want to hear from you. We can definitely be friends, but the other stuff is long over. You need to find yourself another girl for that."

The village idiot of Las Vegas jumps on the Royal's bandwagon.

fair weather fan - is best defined as someone who is only interested in a team when it is doing well.
jump on the bandwagon - join a growing movement of someone or something, often in an opportunist way, when that movement is seen to become successful.

Source: Urban Dictionary {website}


I did not know the name of a single player on the Royal's roster until they made it into the playoffs. I haven't paid much attention to the Royals, or professional baseball for that matter, in twenty years - probably more! But now it is time for me to jump back on the bandwagon.

I need to say something in defense of my 'bandwagon, fair weather fan' ways. I do remember, vividly, the last the time the Royals were in the World Series and how crazy things got when they won it. I also have one more tidbit to share. I was at the very first World Series game played in Kansas City. And the Royals won. Unfortunately, they ended up losing to Philadelphia in six. Well, that's about all I got.

One last thing, and this is coming from my own personal point of view, the Royals will be even money or maybe plus five or so when the line breaks on the Series. If any of you out there in Royal land are interested in that kind of stuff, let me know. Go Royals!

The village idiot of Las Vegas chats about the state of the NFL with a homeless comedian.

"You think if Roger gets fired he will have to sleep outside with Mike and me?" My friend Bob is a funny guy, I would venture to guess he is the funniest homeless guy in SW Las Vegas. The Roger he was referring to is Roger Goodell...the commissioner of the National Football League. "Something tells me Roger is going to be alright if he loses his job," I tell him with a grin on my face, "I don't think you'll see him sleeping on a bench outside the library anytime soon, but than again...I'm not always right," the two of us have been running this gag/discussion on each other since the Ray Rice video became public. It has blown over since then, but at one time it looked like Goodell's job might be in jeopardy.

"What about Ray Rice?" my homeless comedian friend says, "Do you think he might be sleeping on the bench next to the one Mike sleeps on?" I start laughing again and say, "He'll be sleeping on the bench long before Goodell does. No one is going to want the women beater of the year on their team."

We share another laugh and then he gives me the rundown on a show Jim Brown had at the Hilton many years ago. (Bob has been around Las Vegas for fifty years. Surprisingly, he looks good for a seventy year old homeless guy). Anyways, he tells me how Jim Brown called O.J. Simpson a women beater back in the early eighties on his show. And in turn O.J. threatened to come to Las Vegas and whip his ass - "You know what Jim Brown said to his audience when he heard about the threat?" Bob is great at delivering punch lines, "He said, 'I may be forty six, but I will whip O.J's ass in a second. The only people he is capable of beating up are women."

We share a laugh or two more and then I tell him I must be on my way, he says this as I am parting - "If Roger does lose his job, and he tries to move in on the bench Mike sleeps on," there was a brief silence and then he began to shake his head and wag his finger, "Well, I can tell you something right now brother. We will have some problems. He will have to sleep on the bench where all the cats congregate at. Mike and I hold the prime real estate at the library," I start laughing even harder than before.

The village idiot of Las Vegas listens to a girl cuss out her fiancee at Subway.

"It's my goddamn birthday and you don't even have the fucking courtesy to spend it with me! Don't tell me you are setting on your stupid ass playing video games with all your loser friends. Don't fucking tell me that! It's my goddamn birthday you asshole!" Oh, young love, what a fantastic and volatile feeling. You know, I try not to butt into other people's business, but come on! This young lady, whom I'm guessing was all of twenty, maybe twenty one, was yelling like someone shot the pope. So, as you can imagine, it was hard to ignore when you are setting a booth over from her at Subway.

"It's my goddamn birthday and you are with your stupid idiot friends!" Just when I thought she couldn't get any louder or more belligerent...I thought wrong - "You fucking moron, you are supposed to spend my birthday with me and not your dope smoking loser friends. You stupid asshole! It's my goddamn birthday!" She falls silent for a moment and I hear the muttering of what I assume is her boyfriend on the other end of the phone. Moments later her face turns red in anger and she yells once again - "It's my goddamn birthday and you are with your loser friends. Fuck you!" At this point everyone in the place is staring at her...she could have cared less.

"It's my goddamn birthday," she yells yet again, "Why are you with your fucking loser friends when it's my goddamn birthday! Fuck off!" She finally hangs the phone up. After her fit of rage, I was for sure she was going to fly into a crying spell or something of that nature. Not the case at all - she calmly eats the rest of her sandwich, says a few things to herself and gets up to leave.

As I watch her leave, I start feeling sorry for her. It was obvious she was upset because someone she had feelings for forgot or didn't care it was her birthday (all of us have had an experience like that at one time or another). Anyways, I tell her happy birthday as she is walking out the door. It seemed like the right thing to do. (Here's where I think the story gets funny). Instead of smiling or saying thanks or anything of that nature, she looks at me with a blank stare and says - "I have to hear happy birthday from a complete stranger and my own goddamn fiancee won't even spend time with me on my own goddamn birthday!" She then walks out the door, gets in her car and drives away.

The village idiot of Las Vegas becomes tongue tied by an absolute stunner.

The other day I met a buddy of mine at a shop on the North Strip. After the meeting was over I ask if he had been to the SLS. (The SLS is the former Sahara hotel/casino. It was sold to a group out of Los Angeles. They put a ton of money in it and renamed it the SLS. It opened over Labor Day. I have no idea what SLS stands for). Anyways, he politely declines my invitation. I decide to take a look by myself.

I enter through a beer garden located on the strip, I then mosey through another set of doors which takes me directly into the Sports & Race Book. After that I encounter a brief walkway which in turn leads to the casino floor. I believe if you see one casino floor you have seen them all. The scenery hanging around the peripheral is makes a place special, and oh boy...the SLS had plenty of it!

A few minutes of aimless wondering and gawking pass and I find myself perched a little left of the entrance to the pool/day club. As I am standing there glancing out the windows admiring all the hard bodies, I feel a nudge to my side. I turn to my left and the most angelic thing I have ever seen is now standing directly in front of me.

Blond hair, blue eyes, tan skin, curves...Aphrodite in the flesh was now in the company of Jethro from Kansas...this kind of thing only happens in Las Vegas - I try muttering something to her, but my eyes over ran my ability to speak. All I could do was stare at her from feet to face (she was wearing a red bikini with a small cloak draped over her shoulders). "Dude, do you think you could step to the right so I can get my things," the voice of a real life angel was talking to me, I was dumbfounded, I couldn't move, I couldn't think - "Dude, my things," she says again in an angelic tone, "Could you please move," this time her voice had a hint of agitation. I finally snap out of the spell. "I'm sorry," is all I could mutter as I watch her bend down and pick up a summer bag that was located underneath the bench I was standing over.

Now, as she was kneeling down grabbing her bag, it looked as if her cantaloupe sized breasts were going to fall out her bikini top. They didn't, but it looked like it for a moment.

As I watch her exquisitely shaped backside walk away - she comes to a sudden halt, turns around and says with a purr - "Dude, didn't your mother ever tell you that it was impolite to stare? I swear, men are all the same," I smile and turn beat red after her comment. She winks and walks away. I was going to say something to her, but was unable to muster the nerve. That is unusual for me. It boiled down to the fact she was that breathtaking!

The village idiot of Las Vegas finds a piece of gold on the street.

"Finders keepers, losers weepers."

- An idiom meaning whoever finds something is entitled to keep it. Often shortened to - 'finders keepers.'


The other day I was sitting at a bus stop, all by my lonesome, when a phone starts ringing. At first I thought it was mine and then realized the sound was unfamiliar to me (different ring tone). I immediately get off the bench and start tracking the location of the sound. A moment later I find myself standing over a group of shrubs next to the bus stop bench. I pull them apart and take notice of what appears to be a tablet or large phone. I reach into the shrubs and grab the instrument.

At first glance it was obvious I had found something nice. I do a little digging on the Internet while waiting for the bus, and wouldn't you know...a Nexus 5G had just fallen into my lap. Turns out, and I don't know shit about phones, I was holding the latest and greatest version of the smart phone. It had a retail value, from what I researched, of four fifty plus. It's a hundred times more eloquent than the phone I currently use.

I start exploring the features and the overall speed of this monster and it is very impressive. 5G coverage versus the 3G shit coverage I have now. Five inch screen with all the Apps and features. There is no way in hell I would ever be able to afford a beast like this, but it was mine now!

As I'm sitting at the bus stop smiling - the phone rings again. I look down at the Caller ID and it reads, 'Dad.' After seeing this, a numbrer of thoughts began running through my head. You know how in the movies or cartoons where there is a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other? That's how it felt - "You found this phone on the street. Fair and square! If the shoe was on the other foot they would keep this phone and call it their own. Remember when you had your computer taken when you left it at a restaurant? This is just fair turnabout! Think about how long it has been since you've had anything nice! Look how nice it is," the words of the devil sitting on one shoulder were seducing to say the least. And then the angel on the opposite shoulder pipes up - "This phone doesn't belong to you! It probably belongs to a kid whose parents saved up money so they could give them something special. You need to recall the number that just called and tell them where you can give it back to them - Right now!"

I weighed the argument from both sides and then came to a conclusion: Fuck it, it is mine now. I will find a new SIM card and disable or get rid of any tracking software. What a find!

I am kidding - I called the number on Caller ID that read Dad. A guy about my age shows up thirty minutes later and I give the phone to him. He tells me his son had it stolen or lost the other day and they were for sure it was gone for good. He then shakes my hand and thanks me for being an honest person. As I watch him get in his car and drive off, I had one thought going through my mind - "What a phone!"

The village idiot of Las Vegas is reminded of his ex wife.

Yesterday, I was walking down the sidewalk minding my own business when all of a sudden I hear someone holler - "Go you stupid asshole!" I look to my right and witness a guy making a turn against traffic in his car, he was taking an exorbitant amount of time in doing so thus causing the guy behind him, who barked the insult, to be stuck in oncoming traffic. Fortunately traffic slows and he is able to complete the turn without any problem.

Call me sentimental, but watching this brought a smile to my face. My ex wife suffered from bouts of road rage when she lived in Las Vegas. And seeing the whole incident, however brief it was, reminded me of her.

The village idiot of Las Vegas and his homeless neighbor.

This is going to sound bizarre, but if I was to walk around for thirty minutes to an hour or so in Las Vegas and not encounter at least one homeless person, man, I would honestly swear the to you the universe was off kilter or Mad Max was around the corner. It would be a strange feeling for me...a very strange feeling.

An old homeless lady lives, maybe, a hundred and fifty feet from my door step. I walk by her everyday. She hangs out, with her cart, in a little park area across the street. It closes at dusk. After that she moves across the street to a small sidewalk bench and sets up camp.

Whenever I pass by her it is always the same. I'll nod and she will nod back, or vice versa. Never once have we spoken a word to one another, until last night - "Could you get me some ice for my cooler?" There was a soothing sound in the tone of her voice, reminiscent of my grandmothers. I'd always imagined her tone would be gruff. I was mistaken.

My refrigerator has an automatic ice maker that is prone to overflowing - So I told her to give me a minute and I would return. A minute passes and I show with a whole tray of ice. She opens her cooler and I dump it in. She says thanks and turns the other way in her chair. I thought about making small talk and then decided to pass and head back home.

This afternoon I walked past her on my way to the bus stop. I was going to say something, but before I could she gave me the nod and look away. That's been our standard greeting since our first encounter. I don't want to do anything to upset the equilibrium the two of us share, so I reciprocated the gesture and walked past.

The village idiot of Las Vegas spends the weekend with old friends from Kansas.

Thirty plus years is a long time to still be falling for the same gag, but that's what happens when you are stupid: "Check this out!" I turn my head quickly as the tone of the request in my old friends voice indicated brevity, and wouldn't you know, I now found my nose an inch away from his ass. "You like that, don't you boy," were his exact words as he promptly rips a fart.

After hearing something of this nature most people would be offended by such crude behavior. But in all actuality the effect was different for me. It gave me that fifteen or sixteen again feeling; chumming around with all my pals, telling lies and doing all the things kids like to do. It was a good feeling...it was a hell of a good feeling. (I hope no one thinks after reading this that I enjoy a guy farting in my face):

One of my oldest friends was in town with a big contingent of his family to celebrate a number of birthdays. They rented a party house a mile or so from the strip. He called Saturday and instructed me to get my ass over there. Next thing you know I was knocking on the door. His sister, whom I had never met, answers the door. She was so pretty and sweet. As I am walking in - a familiar face comes in view. It was a friend of mine from Face Book whom I had never actually met in real life (small world). We introduce ourselves and chat briefly. A few moments pass and my old friend walks around the corner with his beautiful wife in tow. When I see his dumb, smiling face - I immediately start feeling thirty years younger.

"Let's go sit in the pool and drink some beers," his idea sounded solid to me. We walk outside, pull our shirts and shoes off, wade into the shallow end, crack a few beers and then start playing - "Do you remember when?"

"Remember that time when Joe Bob took that girl home from the bar. I swear that moron was so drunk he didn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. Or what about that time he scored a touchdown for the other team," the more we drank, the funnier the stories became. It was like being in a time machine. After two and a half days of nonstop fun it was time for everyone to depart. I sure hope they come back again soon. It was a blast!

I could go on about all the fun I had this weekend with my friend and his family, but I'm not. I want to tell them one thing before I end the post..."The warmth and generosity everyone showed me was phenomenal. I appreciated it more than words can describe...Thank you!"

The village idiot of Las Vegas discusses sex and politics with a working girl.

"Do you mind if I take a seat?" There were fifteen empty benches she could choose from, but for some reason - which I would discover soon, she picked the one I was sitting at.

She was dark, not just a little dark. It was midnight dark. Her body was succulent... it was obvious by the way the summer dress she was wearing clung to it - "How are you?" I say sheepishly. If it was conversation she wanted, it was conversation she would have. "I am fine," she says with a glowing, ivory white smile. "May I ask a favor from you?" she says in a sexy manner. I nod yes, "May I borrow your phone? Mine is dead and I want to call my friend to come pick me up."

As I hand my phone to her, she asks, "What is your name?" I give her my alias, "Andy Gallegos, and what is yours?" I ask in return. She smiles and says, "Sabrina," she then uses the phone and hands it back. I then inquire on what she does for a living, and without hesitation she says - "I dance at Hustler's and entertain on the side." I loved her gall. She was trolling for new customers and wasn't a bit bashful about it. "How long have you been in town?" I ask inquisitively. "I moved from San Francisco a few months ago. I knew I could make a lot more money here than there. Plus, it is so much cheaper to live in Las Vegas," was her response to my query.

The best attribute for women who choose the world's oldest profession as a livelihood is to make sure their marks are at ease. And she had me at ease quickly, very quickly - "Maybe you and I could work something out?" She says with a smile. Truth be told, she is way out of my price range. Shit, a ham sandwich is out of my range. I then say this - "Honey, if only I had the spare scratch. We would go back to my place right now. Unfortunately, you are looking at the poorest guy in town. But if you ever need a practice dummy. I could be that guy!" She laughs and says - "You are such a cutie, and funny. But it's a business. So no freebies."

We chat a little more about the weather and then I say, "I sincerely believe that some time down the road prostitution will be legal everywhere. It has been happening forever. I don't see why it isn't legal now. I guarantee the government can use the tax revenue. Why not regulate and tax it?" After my remark, she smiles and says, "I agree with you one hundred percent. The country would be out of the hole tomorrow if 'whoring' was taxed. I would pay it if it kept me out of trouble." A girl after my heart, Libertarian was written all over her.

We chat a bit longer and then she says, "I have to go now honey, my ride is waiting for me," she hands me a business card with her contact information on it. "If you ever come across any 'fun money.' Give me a call and I will show you the time of your life," were her parting words. Watching her walk off was a treat. Her legs were layered with muscles, her waste was thin and her rear end...oh man. Every step she took her ass would swing back and forth like a ducks. It was as if she had a pendulum in it or something of that nature.

The village idiot of Las Vegas reads the best story ever.

If you walk out the door to my apartment; take a hundred steps to the sidewalk, walk another one hundred fifty or two hundred feet west, turn north, walk a block and a half and then look to your east. You will find a Montessori school. This particular school is designed for the K-4 crowd.

"Hey mister, you want to read this story about my mommy? The teacher gave me two smiley faces." As I was walking by the school on my way to the bus stop, the cutest little bugger I have ever seen accosts me. "It's a really good story mister. You can read it if you want." Initially, I told him no thanks and started to walk past. And then I saw a big frown suddenly appear on his precious little face. It was evident he wanted to show off his efforts. So I obliged him. "Let me see it buddy. I would love to read it," I tell him.

He hands a folded piece of paper to me and says - "All my friends and my teacher like it." I unfold the paper and began to read his story. It went something like this:

"My mommy is the best mommy in the world. She loves me more than all the puppies in the world. My mommy is the prettiest girl in the whole wide world. My mommy likes chocolate ice cream like me. My mommy took me to Disneyland. Even though my mommy and daddy live together no more. She still loves me. She said my daddy loves me too. My mommy got me some new shoes so I could play baseball like my hero Bryce Harper. My mommy tells me that she loves me with all her heart. I love my mommy with all my heart too."

I finish reading the little buggers story and hand it back to him. "That is the best story I have ever read. You are so nice to share it with me," I tell him. He then looks at me and says, "Thanks mister, you are nice. The next story I write is going to be about my dog Lacy. I love her next after my mommy." I tell him to keep up the good work and walk off.

As I sit here putting the finishing touches on my post, I wish I had a time machine so I could go back and tell that little bugger how much I appreciate him and his story. He made an old, broken down, daydreaming bum feel really good for a moment. I am extremely grateful to him for that.

The village idiot of Las Vegas witnesses a baptism.

 

 

 

"Will you please come to a couple of baptisms on Saturday? I know you will find it very uplifting. Besides, it's going to be my first one's. I got to have a fellow Kansan witness it." A few months ago I met a Mormon missionary from Kansas - Wichita to be exact. His name is Elder Wilkes. I still find it a bit strange addressing someone who I am twice as old - Elder. Anyways, a couple of other young missionaries and he have been counseling me the past few months. It has been very nice to have a young friend from Kansas in Las Vegas to talk with. Wichita State basketball is a big topic of our conversation. He completed a year of school there before leaving for his mission. Saturday was a big day for him and I have never actually witnessed a live baptism - "I wouldn't miss it for the world," I tell him.

 

"Wearing all white makes me look like a painter or like a work in an institution." As I am sitting at the temple waiting for the baptism's to begin, Elder Wilkes walks out of a room wearing what I would refer to as a onesie. In all seriousness, they are required to wear a traditional white frock for the ceremony. "Please tell me that you are not going to wear that when you go on dates," I jokingly state. He then tells me has a pink one for dates. A few minutes pass and the family of five he was scheduled to baptize walk into the room wearing garb similar to his. "It is almost time. Wish me luck," he then enters the baptismal water.

 

One by one they parade into the water and Elder Wilkes washes their sins away. It was a very moving moment for everyone in the room - me included. After the ceremony I am chatting with him and he politely says this to me - "Rob, one of these days it is going to be your turn. Once you are baptized and except the gospel into your life, all your transgressions will be washed away. And all those dreams you tell me about will begin to come true." A religious man I am not or never have been, but this kid and his buddies are beginning to sway me. I still have trepidations about things and told him such, "Elder Wilkes, I am proud of you for your work. And I know your parents and everyone else is proud of you as well." The youth of the Mormon church are truly uplifting to be around. "But the problem buddy," I add right before I am leaving, "I am seriously concerned the serene baptismal waters will begin to boil if I dare set foot in them."

 

 

 

 



The village idiot of Las Vegas swears he will strangle someone on the bus one day.

A number of buses in Las Vegas are double decked. So if someone annoys you on one level - move to the next. Today a drunk homeless guy gets on the bus and sets next to me. He immediately starts acting belligerent. I get up and move to another part of the lower level. As I'm setting in my new spot I still hear him - but I am OK -- he was far enough away to tune out.

A few stops pass and a guy, who I am guessing weighed four bills, gets on the bus. I watch him walk to the back of the bus where I am seated. He then looks at me and says - "Scoot over," I sigh and move over so he can set down. The next thing you know his girth pins me up against the window like a squashed bug. I politely excuse myself from the situation and decide to take my chances on the second level.

I walk up the stairs and take a seat at the very front of the upper deck. I am setting there enjoying the serenity and all of a sudden I hear two kids behind me talking about a girl in their class that they want to have sex with. It was an amusing conversation for a moment and then it turned crude, so I get up and move again - this time to the back of the top level. I am about ready to take a new seat when a guy says - "Dude, you don't want to set there. Someone threw up." Sure enough - I look down and there is a pile of barf right where I am going to sit. I can't take it anymore so I push the stop button and get off at the next stop!

I got off the bus just in time - I sincerely felt I was going to choke someone. Any way, I am standing at the bus stop deciding if I should walk the rest of the way to my destination or wait for a new bus. Before I am even given the chance to cool down, the scariest looking bitch I have ever seen approaches me and says - "Mister - do you have five dollars I can borrow? My boyfriend and I got into a fight and he kicked me out of the car. I want to get a bus pass so I can get to my sisters." I didn't say a word! I just turned and started walking in the direction of my destination!

The village idiot of Las Vegas receives a brand new video from Roxy.

"Give me a call." The text message from Roxy was simple enough, so I did just that. "Jethro, I am coming to Las Vegas over the Fourth of July. I want you to talk with your Chinese friends and have them get me a room at the Cosmopolitan." Jethro do this! Jethro do that! When I say jump Jethro, you say - "How high?"  Whatever her majesty wants; her majesty gets...at least from me anyways.

"I will do my best to accommodate the request," I tell her. I then ask her this - "Are you still running with that clown? Have you dumped him yet? If you're bringing that asshole with you, forget about it! You guys can find your own room." Roxy pushes me around. And for the most part I put up very little resistance; but I draw the line when it comes to certain things. And I wanted her to understand. "Jethro," she says, "Jeff is going to Santa Barbara with his golf whores over the Fourth. So I am coming out to Las Vegas alone." The two of them must have an arrangement. I have never asked; but I get the feeling.

We chat a few minutes longer and then I ask this - "Can you and I spend some time together like we did last time you came to town? I try not to think about you, but it is hard. I miss you." Every time I think the two of us are through - she always shows again. "Jethro, I have missed you as well," she says, "Jeff is too busy with all his other stuff. He doesn't pay any attention to me. I know you will give me all the attention I long for. Besides, it is time for you to give the reader's of your blog some new material,,,Mr. Kiss & Tell."

She was in town a couple months ago and I shared our exploits on the blog...that's why she calls me Mr. Kiss & Tell. At first I wasn't sure if she would be angry about it or not. Turns out my writing about us being intimate is a humongous turn on for her. Most girls would be angry if they knew I was blabbing all over the Internet about their sexual prowess to all my friends...Roxy is not most girls. We chat for a little while longer and then I ask if she will send me a video or picture of her. I haven't seen her in a long time and I thought it would be nice to have little reminder. She tells me that I will see the real thing in a few weeks and I should be patient. I beg and she finally caves.

A few minutes after my request a video message on SnapChat appears. I open it up and she is standing in front of a mirror wearing nothing but a robe. She then says, "Jethro, I am looking forward to seeing you again. Last time we were together you fucked my legs off. And I know you will do it again. Here is a little something to hold you over." She then drops her robe and reveals her naked, yoga firm, tan body. She spins around slowly a few times for me, and then says, "Jethro, I want to show you one last thing before I go. I bought a new stud for my piercing." The camera zooms in between her legs and shows up close what she is referring to. My eyes were ready to pop out of my head - "I will see you soon enough," were her parting words.

P.S. I hate you SnapChat!

The village idiot of Las Vegas gets woken up at six in the morning by his boss Jayball.

"Jethro, I am taking you to breakfast, I will be there in ten minutes. Have your ass ready!" It was six o'clock in the morning, a Sunday morning, when Jayball called and woke me from a deep sleep. "There are a couple of races I want you to ship out to people. Like I said, be ready in ten minutes." I crawl out of bed, use the restroom, brush my teeth, get dressed and then - just like clockwork - my phone begins buzzing. "I am outside, hurry up!" The message read.

"Damn Jayball, when did you start wearing ladies perfume? It smells like a brothel in here. Were you with that broad from the Yard House again?" I ask. The smell of women's perfume in his car was overwhelming. As he is getting ready to answer my query, his phone starts ringing - "Hold on for a second Jethro - 'Hi babe, no I had to cut out for a bit. I had some work to take care of. I am with Jethro. You know him. He's that hillbilly from Kansas you met a while back. I will be back there in a little while. Do you want me to bring you some breakfast?" He then hangs the phone up.

"Who was that?" I ask. Jayball has more women in his stable than Carter has liver pills. How he keeps them straight is a mystery to me. "Do you remember Veronica?" he says. I remember her quite vividly. She is hard to forget. Veronica is a stripper at Sapphire's. Her body looks as if it were carved of stone. "She came over last night after work," he adds, "I wasn't expecting her, she just showed up. I have been up all night doing you know what hillbilly. Anyways, that is beside the point. I have some races I want you to send out to people." It is times like these when I realize just how dedicated he is to his craft. Think about this for a second. He has a women that bears a striking semblance to Aphrodite herself; lying in his bed, waiting for him, wanting him. And all this clown can think about is horse racing.

"Don't you ever take a day off from the races? Jesus, there is a Playboy centerfold lying in your bed as we sit here and speak. What the hell is wrong with you!" I say emphatically, "If a girl like Veronica was lying in my bed. The last damn thing on my mind would be horse racing!" Not Jayball, his clock runs different from everyone else, and he told me such - "Jethro, first of all, there will never be a girl like Veronica lying in your bed. And second, I will take all the time I need. No matter how long it takes, she will be there when I get back. Now get a pen and write these races down. I want them shipped out to the data base ASAP!"

The village idiot of Las Vegas sees a pair of pink lace panties.

"Jethro, open up the glove box and take a look at what I have inside." I was riding with my boss Jayball down to the race book at the Red Rock to redeem a couple of his winning tickets when he made the request. I follow his instructions, and a pair of pink lace panties fall onto the floor. At first glance I wasn't sure what they were so I pick them up for further examination. It became obvious rather quickly...Jayball had scored once again.

"Who do these belong to?' I ask. He grins and says, "Remember the girl I was firing on at the Yard House Saturday? I called her and we met for drinks last night at the Lahaina. We throw a few back and then she invites me to her place. I don't have to fill in the blanks for you hillbilly. You know what happened. I kept her panties as a souvenir." Jayball does more stabbing than Jack the Ripper. He is in possession of a pantie collection that would make Victoria's Secret jealous. Some times I think he might be losing a step or two in his old age; but then I have to think again. "Jayball - I can tell you this with all sincerity, There are a million guys in this world who would give their left nut to see one tenth of the action you see. Me being one of them." After my remark, he shrugs his shoulders - as if to say - "No big deal."

Jayball has become so adapt to a study stream of quality trim, in my opinion, he takes it for granted. "When are you going to hook up with her again? Do you think she could bring one of her friends for me?" I ask. He immediately starts shaking his head after my query and says, "I don't know when I will see her again. And to answer your second question Jethro - the women I run around with and their friends are way out of your league. No chance of being hooked up with one of her friends." I let out a sigh of disappointment after his remark. I wasn't mad, he was telling the truth. Jayball only fraternizes with 10's. My scale, at this point, only measures in the four to five range.

As were pulling into the parking lot of the Red Rock, he tells me this, "Jethro, you are doing an excellent job of working the list I gave you. I want you to make sure people understand my company is the best in the business when it comes to horse racing. We pick the most winners consistently and offer the best rebates anywhere!" You would think his life is all (wine, women, song and dance) by the way I tell it. Truth be told, his greatest passion is horse racing. He has made an ample living at it for the last twenty five years. He was kind enough to hire me on with the goal of expanding his customer base. I am doing everything in my power to achieve the prerogatives set for me.

The Yard House.

"How old are you? I would guess twenty two, maybe twenty three." Without question, J-ball is the smoothest operator I have ever known. "Bartender, whatever this young lady is having stick it on my tab." The Vegas mama standing next to him at the bar was getting ready to buy her own drink when he decides to intervene. "Thank you for the compliment and the drink. My name is Claire," she then sticks her hand out to him. Most guys would sheepishly shake it and maybe, if their lucky, get a thirty second chat out of her...J-ball is not most guys!

Without a moments hesitation, he takes her hand and gently kisses it. "Anytime beautiful," he says. I was watching it all unfold from the bar stool next to him. After he kisses her hand - he asks if she would care to join us - "I would love to join you but I am meeting someone here in a few minutes," she tells him with a wide smile. He responds by kissing her hand again and saying, "Maybe he won't show and you can join us." After his remark her tan face blushes and she says, "Why don't I give you my number and we can go out for a drink some other time?" Without breaking stride or releasing her hand, he summons the bartender to bring him a pen. She writes her number down on a napkin and kisses it. "I will call you soon," he tells her. Most would think the encounter to be over...it wasn't. The two of them spend, I would guess, fifteen to twenty seconds staring at each other before she leaves, no words - just stares.

"I know a couple of guys back in Kansas who really knew how to swoon the ladies. But I have to be honest with you J-ball. They couldn't carry your jock." Watching him spin his charm on females is akin to watching Larry Bird shoot a basketball; or George Brett swing a baseball bat. It's truly a thing of beauty and grace. I told him such, and he says this - "Jethro, I want you to watch and learn. Who knows? One of these days your hillbilly ass might be able to pull off the same feats." We both look at each other after his statement and start laughing, he then says - "I seriously doubt it."

As we are leaving Yard House a beautiful girl in a short skirt and silk blouse is entering. He looks at me and says, "Check this broad out!" She hears his comment and looks at him with a wide smile. I thought he was being a little abrupt. But the subject of his compliment felt otherwise. She then says, "Hi, how are you?" Instead of reciprocating the greeting, he decides to pull the staring routine. Ten seconds or so pass and he turns and walks away...leaving the Madonna he was staring down gawking. As we are strolling to the car, I say - "Goddamn Jayball, you could have gotten another number! Jesus, that girl was gorgeous. Why didn't you make a move?" He looks at me; shrugs his shoulders; laughs; puts his sunglasses on; spits the toothpick out of his mouth and says - "Jethro, I have a stack of numbers at home I would venture to guess is at least two inches thick. Every once in a while I have to say no."

The village idiot of Las Vegas gets orders from his new boss.

"Now listen asshole - whatever you are doing, drop it and get the reports out! Is that clear enough for you?" My boss Jayball is not a guy who minces words. "While you're at it...get a goddamn haircut! It looks like you stuck your finger in an electrical socket. You look like the guy from the movie Young Einstein. I can't remember his name right now; but you look like him!'

Jayball would not be caught dead with a hair out of place or a wrinkle in his clothes. He is metro sexual. I told him such and his reply was classic Jayball. "Look, Jethro - there is a right way to do things, and a wrong way to do things. At Betmakerpro we do things the right way. Right after you send the reports out I want you to call these guys," he then throws a couple of call sheets on my lap. "Tell them we will match or beat any rebate they are receiving from other sites. When I get back from my massage - they better be signed up."

The village idiot of Las Vegas gets a new pair of shoes.

"Here, take these shoes and put them on right now. Throw the ones you're wearing in the dumpster. You can't get in my car dressed like that." My boss Jayball was taking me to dinner yesterday for my birthday; but before I was allowed in his car, I was forced to adjust my wardrobe. "While you're at it take the shirt off you're wearing and throw it in the trash too. And those sweats and whatever shorts you're wearing underneath them can go as well. You look like you dress yourself out of a garbage can."

I was now standing in the parking lot of my apartment complex with nothing but a pair of socks on. I wasn't wearing any underwear. "Here, put this stuff on," he then hands me a new shirt, shorts and a pair of silk sweats. Everything fit like a glove. "Let me take a look at you," he says, "Now that's what I am talking about. You don't look like a homeless guy anymore. You can get in the car now."

The village idiot of Las Vegas visits a whore house.

Up until a few days ago I can honestly say I had only been to 'a house of ill repute,' as my mother so eloquently called them, one time. It was on a family trip to London a long time ago. My cousin and I were partying in the SOHO district and somehow or another we found ourselves there. It's a funny story; but one that will have to be told on another occasion. Well, fast forward twenty some years and sixty some pounds and wouldn't you know - I was back - in a 'house of ill repute' that is.

My friend Norris called me the other night and told me his brother was in town. "He's down at the strip partying all night and he left me his rental car. Let's take a cruise up to the whore house in Pahrump." At first I denied his request, and then he started begging, "Please - I know a girl up there and I want to see her. I am way too drunk to be driving that far. Come on, you're not doing anything. Just drive me up there. You can sit at the bar for an hour or so while I do my thing and will head back. I will owe you one." He was right - I wasn't doing anything - so I agreed. Besides, I was curious. How many guys can say they have been to an actual whore house?

He shows up twenty minutes later. I take the driver's seat, and after an hour and a half trip. We find ourselves pulling into the parking lot of the world famous Chicken Ranch in Pahrump, Nevada:

We walk in and the madam shows us to the bar/lounge area. It must have been a slow night because it was just Norris, me and another guy. I take a seat at the bar and Norris seats himself on one of the leather couches in the lounge. "The girls will be out shortly," the madam tells us. Five to ten minutes pass and then five girls walk into the lounge. One of them approaches me at the bar and asks me to buy her a drink. I had exactly twelve dollars in my pocket and her drink took ten of it. She then asks my name. I give her my alias - "Jack Gallegos," I then ask her name, "Star," she tells me. Turns out she wasn't much into small talk. "What are you looking for Jack?" I tell her this, "I want to go around the world, the whole enchilada baby!" I had two dollars in my pocket, so anything past that was going to be out of my price range.

"The works will cost you twelve hundred. I promise it will be the best time you ever had." Unfortunately, she was $1198 more than I could afford. So I politely declined the offer and she took her ten dollar drink elsewhere. Five minutes or so passes and another girl approaches me. "What's your name sugar?" I tell her Jack Gallegos, "Jack, my name is Willow, would you like to have a good time with me?" she says. I ask her what an around the world will cost. She was a little more cost friendly than Star, "Baby - I will show you the time of your life for eleven hundred." Even with the price reduction, Willow was slightly more than I could afford. So I politely declined the offer. After Willow leaves my side, not a single girl approaches me again. I'm surmising the girls at the world famous Chicken Ranch are mighty adept at spotting a tire kicker.

I hadn't seen my friend for an hour or so and then he reappears from a hallway area in the south corner of the lounge. He was carrying the widest grin I have ever seen on a man. "You ready to head out?" he asks. I nod and out the door we go. I was planning on asking him how things went on our ride home; but he passes out before I get the chance.

As I am staring at the at the lonely stretch of highway through the windshield of my friends brother's rental car and listening to him snore, I begin thinking to myself - "Most men would find it incomprehensible that I found myself bored to death at a whore house. What man in his right mind would believe such a thing? The simple fact of the matter - if you venture into 'a house of ill repute' without any money - you might as well consider yourself a leper on a deserted island."

 

The village idiot of Las Vegas folds his new roommates underwear.

I came home last night from a friends and decided to tackle the stack of laundry in my basket. I grabbed the detergent and walked into the laundry room of my apartment. I open up the washing machine door and find a load of my roommates laundry. I then check the dryer and it has a load of his laundry as well. No big deal, I take the load out of the dryer and place it on the couch. I then take the load in the washer and move it to the dryer. I throw my load in the washer and problem solved. After his load was done in the dryer, I take it out and place it on top of the previous load. Well, as I am sitting there waiting for my clothes to finish drying. I can't stop staring at the disorganized heap of clothes on the couch. So I fold them.

This morning I was fixing breakfast when I hear my roommates voice behind me say, "Good morning." It startled me at first and then I smiled and told him the same. He then says this, "Thanks for folding my clothes last night, but next time would you just leave them there and I will get them. I have something about other people touching my underwear." My new roommate is all of twenty two years of age. The first thing I thought when he told me that was, "Jesus kid - I have been folding laundry for longer than you have been alive. And as far as I know, I have never given anyone cooties or been bitten by a piece of underwear; not a men's pair anyways." I thought about telling him to 'grow up.' And then I changed my mind. Truth is I didn't care enough to comment. It was just annoying to look at all his clothes heaped on the couch. Next time I will throw them in a closet so I don't have to view them.

The village idiot of Las Vegas calls Roxy 'his girl' and gets told otherwise.

"Hey, I have a song that I want to dedicate to you. I believe it is very fitting for the two of us," I then started singing My Girl by the Temptations. It's a little joke the two of us have going when I say things of that nature. I think it is funny, she does not -"I am not your fucking girl! How many times do I have to tell you that? I swear Jethro - one of these days I am going to reach through the fucking phone and strangle your stupid ass! Do you understand me?" I love goading her, so when she got a all nasty with me, I told her this, "Shut-up, everyone knows you're my girl. There's no use denying it."


After my comment she starts laughing and says, "Jethro, I have to admit something about you," whenever she tells me she has to 'admit something about me,' I brace for an insult. "If you really think that I am your girl, Jesus, you are the dumbest asshole in the world. Look, moron, Jeff and I are back together. You want to hear something funny? I told him that I slept with you while I was in Las Vegas. He went with his buddies to Palm Springs the same weekend and I was jealous. So I came and saw you. You know what he said after I told him about us?" Oh boy, here comes another insult, but hey, I am the one who called her - "He said, 'If you are going to fuck another guy with the intentions of making me jealous. Please don't embarrass yourself again with a moron like you.' You know what Jethro - I agree with him completely."

The village idiot of Las Vegas talks about Mad Max to a young Mormon from Wichita.

Today's version of the phrase Mad Max is best used as a connotation to describe chaos, disorder and anarchy. Example: "The other day I was reading an article in the Las Vegas Sun. The article told the details of a drug deal gone sour in North Las Vegas. Apparently, the buyer wanted to buy a kilo or so of coke and started to argue about the price with the seller. The seller became angry about the argument and pulled out his gun and went Mad Max on the potential buyer."

It doesn't take a Nobel Laureate to spot a young Mormon serving his two year mission in Las Vegas. They're the ones wearing shirt and tie and peddling a bike through the crazy streets of Las Vegas in a hundred and twenty degree weather. An ambitious bunch they are. Well, the other day I had the pleasure of meeting one of them:

"Are you from Wichita?" The golden Wichita State basketball shirt is what prompted me to ask the question. "I sure am. NW Wichita to be exact. I have been in Las Vegas the last eight months serving my mission. Are you from around those parts?" he replied. I then told him how my family hailed mostly from around Hutchinson and Haven and how I grew up around the Emporia area, "I know Wichita very well. I used to live there for a little while," I added. We shook hands and then I asked him why he wasn't in a shirt and tie - the traditional garb for young Mormons out spreading the word. "What do you think of Las Vegas?" I added as well. "I was helping an elderly lady with yard work, so I went with a more casual look. Las Vegas is a lot different from Wichita. A lot more people out here could use god's help." was his reply. We chatted a bit more and then I asked his age. "Nineteen, sir," he stated. 

Las Vegas, being so close to Utah, has a healthy supply of Mormons. I've had the privilege of meeting a number of them. Some I like, others, not so much. But, it would be damn near impossible not to like my new friend. He had the vim and vigor of a young man. Which left me a long time ago. "I would like to ask you something," I said - he looked straight at me and replied, "Go right ahead sir." - his youthful tone was proving infectious - "What do you think the country will look like in ten years or so? Do you think things will be better or worse than they are now?" Without the slightest hesitation, he looked at me and said, "Worse, much worse! Everyone my age knows the hole were in and the debt that is being accumulated. And they expect my generation to pay it back. Fat chance with that!"

My new friend was funny, not just a little, very funny. The Midwest in him was obvious as we continued our conversation. I then asked if he thought things could go 'Mad Max' in the country. He wasn't sure what I meant by the statement so I gave him a better description - "Have you ever seen any of the Mad Max movies with Mel Gibson?" he shook his head no. "They show what a post-apocalyptic world will look like. Anyways, Mel Gibson plays the character Mad Max," my new friend was smiling and laughing as I went on with the description, "I have a friend of mine who I grew up with. I call him 'Mad Max' because he is positive we are headed that way," I concluded.

As I sit here writing the last paragraph for this post, for the life of me, I cannot remember my young friends name. So I have come up with a solution for now. I will call him The Road Warrior. If you ever see this young fella - Road Warrior is the last thing you would think - but, until I can remember his name and since he got a big chuckle out of my prognosis, well, I am going to refer to him as that for the time being.

The village idiot of Las Vegas has a frivolous chat with a Mormon friend of his.

I got in a rather heated argument with a friend a while back. He stated the best looking women in Las Vegas were originally from Utah. I told him he needed to quit smoking whatever he was smoking and the best looking women in Las Vegas were originally from California. Well, it just s
o happened that I ran into him the other day at Walgreen's. We immediately resumed our previous discussion:

"The thing is with California girls - it's beach time year round. They have to take off their clothes at any given time of the year. So it keeps them motivated to stay in shape. I have a friend from Cali and I can tell you this. She would never be caught with an inch of fat on her or a hair out of place, and all her friends are the same." A number of other reasons crossed my mind. But the conversation was of such a frivolous nature, that basically, it wasn't worth the effort.

Nevertheless, my friend had to have his say - "Look, I can see why you think California girls are it. They're nice, but what you have to take into account when you look at a girl from Utah is her breeding lines. Mormons breed extremely well. It's a custom that goes back damn near two hundred years. Think about it for a minute. When was the last time you saw an ugly Mormon?"

As we were leaving the store and about to head our separate ways, he added this - "Why don't you come to church with me some time and I will show you up close and personal what I am talking about." I notified him I was Catholic and thus attending a Mormon church would be sacrilege. He laughed and said, "Alright, I was just trying to prove my point. They're are a ton of them at church, and they are all looking for a man."z

The village idiot of Las Vegas shows off his movie knowledge to a yoga pants wearing babe.

"I remember when Leonardo DiCaprio played the homeless kid in Growing Pains. I knew way back then he would be a big star." Girls in yoga pants are my absolute favorite thing in the world and fortunately for me SW Las Vegas provides a myriad of them - "Did you know that Leo was originally slated to play Dirk Diggler in Boogie Night's? But he ended up passing so he could do Titanic." It was a great feeling sharing movie knowledge with my new yoga pants wearing friend. I first noticed her standing in front of me at the Red Box returning a copy of The Wolf of Wall Street.

"You sure know a lot about Leonardo DiCaprio," she says. I took her response as a sign that she was eager to hear more. "Did you know that Leo is a Scorpio?" I tell her with a wide smile. "No, I didn't know that either, but thanks for telling me," she answers with a grin of her own. My new friend was young and smoking hot (I would guess early 20's). At this point I was feeling it imperative to show off more of my knowledge, so I added this, "My sister says I have a man crush on Mark Wahlberg. Did you know I am the unofficial president of the Mark Wahlberg fan club in Las Vegas? Did you know he was in the Funky Bunch before he became a movie star?"

She looks at me and smiles again (I was beginning to feel a vibe between the two of us). So when I noticed her reading the description of Indiana Jones & The Crystal Skull on the Red Box, I added another tidbit. "Did you know that Tom Selleck was originally slated to play Indiana Jones? But was unable to get out of his contract on Magnum P.I." She fluttered her eyes and smiled at me once again (the vibe I was feeling had now gone into overdrive). I started to say something else, but before I could get the second word out - she tells me this in an irritated tone - "Look dude, this is my space," she then sticks her arm directly out in front of her, points her forefinger and draws an imaginary circle around her."You are invading my space. It's nice to know you are such a movie aficionado. But please!" She then draws another imaginary circle around her, "Don't come into my space uninvited!"

The village idiot of Las Vegas gets dumped by Roxy again.

A few weeks had gone by since Roxy and I last talked. She had instructed me not to bother her because she was busy with work in La Hoya. Anyways, I received a phone call last night and when I looked down to check my caller ID - it was her - "How are things going?" I say. Before I can utter another word, she says, "Jethro, tell me you're not living on the streets again. I just finished reading one of your stupid blog posts and you indicated you were on the streets. Is that true?"

I then explained to her how I got caught in the in-between and had to move out of my apartment earlier than anticipated and how it was taking longer than I had hoped to find a new place - "No big deal. I will be in a new spot soon," I conclude. She wasn't happy about things and let me know it in no uncertain terms, "Jethro, I thought your days of being a homeless fucking bum were over! How is it that you can get me free rooms at the hottest, most expensive place in Las Vegas one week and than your stupid ass is living on the streets the next?" I interupt and begin explaining my situation again. Unfortunately, she wasn't listening - "Shut the fuck up when I am talking to you!" She yells. "You want to know something dumb shit? It was one thing when you blogged about the two of us being together to all your friends. 'That's just Jethro being Jethro,' I told myself. But now you are living on the streets again. And to top it all off you are blogging about some dream sequence you're having with some fantasy slut. Do you know how stupid you look?"

I tried once again to explain the situation, but was only able to get five words out before she flared up again, "I told you to shut the fuck up when I am talking to you! You are a thoughtless bastard! I, being the fool that I am, thought there was a future for the two of us. Jesus, how stupid can a girl be? You want to know something else asshole? When I was driving to work today I saw a homeless guy standing on the corner panhandling. I immediately thought of you. It made my stomach turn thinking -'God, you slept with a guy just like the one on the corner.' - I want you to get this through to that stupid head of yours! And I mean it this time! You and I are history!"

She then cools for a moment and I tell her this - "I am sorry. I didn't think it was a big deal. I promise it's just a temporary thing - Please don't dump me. As for the girl in the fantasy sequence, I was having some fun. Don't take things so serious." It turned out no amount of begging or apologizing was going to change her mind. "Jethro," she says in an irreverent tone, "I have known all sorts of people in my life. But I am telling you, without a doubt. You are the weirdest freak I have ever met in my life!"

The village idiot of Las Vegas runs into a living ghost.

One quarter, three dimes, two nickels and ten pennies. On second thought maybe it was two quarters, one dime, one nickel and ten pennies. Thinking back I can't remember the exact order. One thing is for sure, the amount I handed the clerk at the corner convenience store was equal to seventy five cents - the amount it takes to refill a 32 ounce cup with soda.

"You will find more nutritional value in snorting an eighth of an ounce of cocaine than you will find in drinking one can of soda." Those were the words of an old trainer friend of mine - but nonetheless, I was having an outrageous caffeine and sugar fit. So in the end, despite all my mental objections, I succumbed to it:

It was like being a kid again as I stood next to the soda fountain. Refilling the cup and gulping down a quarter of it and refilling it again. I repeated the process twice and then I paid the clerk. It was now time for me to step back out into the Las Vegas sunshine. What I was about to see would leave an everlasting impression on me.

"May I have a drink of your soda?" Las Vegas is full of meth heads; but the gal who had just asked me for a drink of my soda. How do I say this? She takes the cake! It was the hollow eyes and the sunken cheek bones or perhaps it was the Medussa hair and the rotted teeth. Seeing such a wretched looking creature in the flesh was absolutely gut wrenching. She looked beyond death warmed over. At the time it felt as if I were staring into the eyes of a witch and she would put a curse on me if I didn't accommodate the request. "Here, you can have the rest of it. I drank a bunch when I was in the store." I suddenly remembered how bad soda was for me and handed it over to my her. Somehow, I got the feeling she didn't care how bad soda is for people.

"Do you have a phone I could borrow? I want to call my girlfriend and see if she will come get me." That was her second question. At first I told her I didn't have any minutes left, which was untrue. The truth is I've turned into a clean freak the last six months or so and the thought of her scaly, scabby, slimy, filthy hands touching my phone was more than I could digest. And then I told myself not to be such a selfish prick - "I tell you what," I said "Give me the number and I will dial it for you. I will then put it on speaker phone and hold it close so you can hear and talk." Her friend answers and she tells her this - "Sheila, I have been outdoors for the last week and am crashing hard. Will you please come get me?" Her friend tells her that she will be there in an hour and not to go anywhere. She tells me thanks and I tell her she is welcome and with that said I put all the distance in the world between the two of us...She was that creepy and nasty!

I haven't shared a village idiot thought of the day in a long time. I was told by people smarter than me the segment was becoming stale. Well, for this particular post I am going to bring it back. "A lady like the one I just described is going to be lucky if she lives another month. Someone will probably find her lying dead in the gutter. It is sad."

The village idiot of Las Vegas tells the story of a princess, a noblemen and four of a kind.

"I think I'm going down to the well tonight, I'm gonna drink till I get my fill. And I hope when I get old I don't sit around thinking about it, but I probably will. Yeah, just sitting back, trying to recapture a little of the glory of. Well time slips away leaves you with nothing mister. But boring stories of.

Bruce Springsteen - Glory Days

The other day I called my friend Chad or sir Chadwick as I often referred to him when we were young. I wished him a joyful Easter. He thanked me for the sentiment and returned it. Without hesitation, as is the case most times we talk, we began reminiscing about his exploits from back in the day. "Sir Chadwick, my favorite story of yours is when you pulled off the four of a kind with the Tolstoy sisters." I said. The Tolstoy sisters were four sisters from college; Kitty, Dolly, Veronica and the irreproachable princess Anna.

The first three sisters; Kitty, Dolly and Veronica were all fair hair maidens of quality Kansas stock. In the end, the three of them were easily ensnared in sir Chadwick's web of charm. "Three out of four is mighty impressive," my comrades and I would tell him. Most everyone believed a four of a kind was near impossible. Most everyone that is except sir Chadwick.

As legend tells it, princess Anna became upset with the prince she was dating at the time. So one night she decided to descend from her castle and mix with the commoners. She was feeling particularly frisky and just so happened to show up at a gathering that sir Chadwick and I were attending: Could it have been the long flowing blond hair and the sensuous blue eyes? Or perhaps it was the statuesque figure and the cover girl face? One thing was an absolute certainty to me as I watched her strut up to the both of us. It was as if Aphrodite in the flesh were standing directly in front of us.

"You're the boy my sisters talk about so much.... The legendary Lothario sir Chadwick, Yes?" The princess was very deliberate in her approach. Whatever she wanted, she took! "I am princess," he replied. Sir Chadwick carried an air of confidence that most men could only wish for. And it was coming in extremely handy at this moment. "My sisters have informed me that you are quite skilled at the art of pleasuring a women. Should I believe that as true?" said the princess. At this point you could cut the sexual tension between the two of them with a butter knife. "I am princess," Chadwick replied. "Would you care to find out firsthand my lady?"

After his quip, the princess promptly grabs him by the arm and swiftly leads him away from the soiree. An hour or so passes and sir Chadwick returns. He walks directly up to me and smiles. I ask if it really happened and if so, how was it? He looks at me and says, "A gentlemen never tells," he then adds this to the conversation. "Give me a dip of your Skoal. I have to get the taste out of my mouth." I ask, "What taste is that?" He looks at me with a wry smile and says, "You know, that taste. Oh, on second thought - look who I am talking to - you have no idea about what I am talking about." He then gives me a playful slap to the head and walks off with the widest smile I have ever seen on a man.

The village idiot of Las Vegas plays to his macabre side.

A week or so ago I read an article about a gal in Las Vegas and her blind date. Both were shot and killed by her ex husband. The ex then turned the gun on himself. Below is a fictional third party retelling of the story:

"Goddamn, I got to be the luckiest guy in town. Man this girl is so hot, Vegas mama's are very nice. Jeez, only in Las Vegas could a loser like me find a girl this fucking hot. Hopefully, she will let me fuck her," his thoughts were narrow as he watched her slurp down a third martini. "Jerry, do you want to come back to my place? My mom is watching the kids for the weekend," his name was actually Larry, but he wasn't about to fuss over the small stuff. "Yes Ma'am and check please," Larry hadn't had sex in a long time. That streak was about to end, or so he thought.

A number of thoughts ran through his head as she pawed at him on the ride home. "Should I stop and get some condoms? Should I get a bottle of booze? I should have popped a Viagra," in the end he told himself to relax. "Jerry, turn here," Vegas mama purrs, "my condo is right down the street. I am going to show you the time of your life," she adds as she buries her tongue in his ear.

They are now both standing at her front door, she is fumbling in her purse, searching for the keys, and then it was like he appeared out of no where - "Bitch, what did I tell you about fucking other guys! You're such a fucking slut! Who is this jerk-off?" The baby daddy was now standing directly behind them, and he was angry, very angry! "Oh shit, that's my ex. You better get out of here," she tells Larry in a panicked tone. She then turns to her ex and starts yelling,  "I have a fucking restraining order against you! You're not supposed to be here! I am going to call the cops!"

Vegas mama and her ex were nose to nose arguing and then it happened...just like that - "You're such a fucking whore? You don't love me anymore. Well fuck you!" The baby daddy pulls a gun from his waistband and promptly shoots Vegas mama a number of times at point blank range. Larry not Jerry, thinking this is all a nightmare, begins to pinch himself. "God let me wake up from this! This can't be happening! She doesn't even know my name!" Unfortunately things would prove to be all too real in the end. After shooting Vegas mama the ex calmly walks up to Larry; points the gun directly at his head and says - "You picked the wrong girl to fuck buddy. If I can't have her no one else can."

I wonder how Larry's conversation with Saint Peter went. I can sort of picture it. "What comes of you Larry? Why do you stand at the gates and request entrance?" Hopefully I don't have this talk with Saint Peter for a long time, but Larry's time was now. "Saint Peter, I messed up and got involved with a Vegas girl. That's why I stand before you now." Saint Peter shakes his head as if to indicate he has heard the story many times before and says. "Oh you poor soul." he then swings the pearly gates wide open, "We have a special section cordoned off in heaven for all of you Las Vegas idiots. Just follow the signs."

The village idiot of Las Vegas gets to see Roxy's garb for the day.

Roxy told me right before she left town last week that I needed to leave her alone for a while and that she would call me when she had the time. That was over a week ago and I was curious to see what she was doing, so I called her yesterday - "Jethro, what did I tell you? I specifically told you that I would call you when I had a chance. You were not to bother me." - I told her that I missed her and I just wanted to see what she was doing, she says this, "Jethro, I am in the middle of something, My friend is going to open up a bar and restaurant in La Hoya and she has hired me to help consult. I am really busy, so I don't have time for you right now. I will be back in Las Vegas one of these days and then I will call - 'My Jethro from Kansas." My Jethro from Kansas is her pet name for me and whenever she calls me that I can't help but get worked up.

Before she hangs up I ask her this, "What are you wearing?" She sighed and said - "Jethro, I don't have time for this." - I told her it was no big deal, I just wanted to know what she was wearing. She says, "Jethro, you are so adorable, I am wearing a black skirt with hose and a white blouse....OK, bye now." I immediately formed a mental picture of Roxy and her luscious body, and what it must look like in the outfit she was wearing. "Wait, don't hang up yet," I said. "What kind of panties are you wearing? And what color is your bra?" I hear her mumble something to someone - like she was ordering coffee or doing something of that nature - after that she says. "Jethro, do you still have the Snapchat application on your phone?" I told her that I most certainly did. She then tells me that she will send me something in an hour or so.

An hour or so passes and I still have not received anything from her. So I send her a text. A few minutes later I receive a text message back from her that states - "Thirty more minutes, I am in the middle of something." - Thirty minutes go by and still nothing. I thought about sending her another text, but, you know, I don't want to look too pathetic. And just when I am ready to forget about things, my phone starts beeping. "You have a video message," is what it read in Snapchat.

I open up the file and the first thing I see is Roxy standing there in the outfit she described to me earlier, she then says. "Hi Jethro, how do you like this skirt? I bought it while I was in Las Vegas. The blouse I have had for a while. Anyways, you wanted to see what I was wearing and now you have seen it....Bye." - God she is beautiful - I thought the show was over and then I hear her say, "Jethro, I hope you are still there, because I have something else I want to show you. It's what you really want to see." She then drops her skirt and reveals a pair of pink lace panties, "Oh yeah, you also wanted to know the color of my bra." She now pulls her blouse off and reveals a pink lace bra, "They're matching. What do you think Jethro?" She blows a kiss into the camera and the video ends.

The village idiot of Las Vegas shares some recent feedback about his blog

The last few blog posts have been, what's a good word? Risque is what comes to mind. I guess that's the word? Anyways, I received some recent feedback about the posts from friends and family and I thought I would share it.


"Total trash, what are you trying to do? Become a porno writer. Your friend Roxy sounds like a slut and you look like a moron writing about things of such nature. I hope the rest of the family doesn't read it. You should be ashamed of yourself!"

- Cousin Sally


"How much more of this Roxy bullshit do I have to listen to. Boring! That's all I have to say about it. Oh, one last thing brain surgeon. I am not going to read this shit anymore!"

- Uncle Ned


"Hell yes, I loved it! My favorite part is when you said 'I took what appeared to be a diamond stud and the body part it was attached to and put it in my mouth.' Any fucking guy, as long as he's not a homo, can picture that. Keep up the good work!"

 - Mad Max


"I didn't like it a whole lot. It wasn't one of your better efforts."

- Ex wife


"Do you think you could get Roxy to hook me up with some of her friends?"

- Jayball


"So what does Roxy look like down there? Does she keep it trimmed? Does she keep it shaved? What's the deal?"

- Anonymous


"Jethro, don't you know it's a breach of etiquette to kiss and tell?"

- Roxy