The village idiot of Las Vegas has a heart to heart with Junior.

I first met Junior when I moved to Albuquerque after graduating college. He was kind enough to give me a job and take me under his wing. I hold the highest regard for not only him, but his family as well:

"I am in a community now. That's what has been missing. But now I have it. And I am more than ready." There is not a more fit person than Junior to help execute an idea I have been pushing. I am one hundred percent convinced he is the guy. It is of the highest importance he understand my belief.

"I understand what you are saying, but it takes money. It's money that neither one of us have," he responds. I agree, it will take money to execute, but money is not what I am looking for from him. It's his expertise I crave - "Look," I say intently to him, "All I want you to do is come to North Las Vegas and look at what I am saying. If you don't see what I see, that's okay. But you must come look." We've had this talk before, and it was never right for him, but now things are changing. He is beginning to realize the potential in what I am saying.

"Okay, you've convinced me. Let me talk with Brenda and we will pencil in a time soon to come out and see you." I hold my hand over the phone as not to scream in his ear like a giddy school girl. I pump my fist a number of times in the air as if I had hit a game winning shot. I then compose myself and say - "Thank-you, when you see what I am saying. I guarantee you will understand."

The village idiot of Las Vegas stares at the most beautiful girl in town.

Calling her beautiful, or gorgeous - no... she's exotic, or alluring, or magnetic. Do you want to know the truth? I struggle for the correct words to describe her:

The most beautiful girl in Las Vegas came into the computer lab today. I'm too big of a coward to say anything to her, so I smile...she smiles back. I try not to stare as she stands at the front desk chattimg with her friend. The task proves impossible.

She has the most gorgeous profile - I tell myself as I admire her mocha skin, hourglass figure, pearly white smile and beautiful dark hair with blond highlights. It's as if Aphrodite in the flesh had put on a black miniskirt and walked into the computer lab.

I better stop staring because it would be awkward if she catches me - I now tell myself intently as I look back at the computer screen - the task proves too difficult - I have never seen such a heavenly site. she is breathtaking - I tell myself as I sneak another glance at her. I then immediately look down again in the hopes no one will catch me staring at her.

Dude! Stop staring at her. You know it is not polite. If she catches you it's going to weird her out - I try with all my might not to stop. Again, my efforts are fruitless - How come I can't have a girlfriend like that? She is so beautiful. I wish I wasn't such a big loser and then maybe I would have a chance with a girl like her - self loathing consumes my thoughts as I watch her smile and laugh with her friend at the front desk.

Moments later there conversation ends and she prepares to leave. Before she does she glances across the lab and catches me staring at her. My face turns red in embarrassment. She gives me a radiant smile and leaves. I thought I was going to melt.

The village idiot of Las Vegas talks to Junior.

My BFF Junior lives in Albuquerque. The two of us have been friends for twenty years - yesterday he decided to listen to my spiel about an approach I have for organic growth (data base creation). Below is an excerpt of our conversation:

"Look," I say intently, "I'm talking about taking our combined skills and directing them towards the good of a community. I finally have that community in North Las Vegas. Now listen carefully, I am saying unequivocally a fruitful data base of twenty thousand is here, and we can have it - I need your help!" He's been half listening and mostly laughing the whole time, just like everyone else...The time to laugh is over! "Look, you are the best salesman I have ever known," I state emphatically, "Hell, I pretty much learned everything I know from you. What I am proposing is an opportunity that comes once in a lifetime. Actually, once in a lifetime is too cliche. Properly stated it's an opportunity that comes around once in every ten lifetimes."

I am fanatically convinced they're twenty thousand ready and able subscribers/users to a blog or website within walking distance of where I live in North Las Vegas (think about that statement for a moment) - I reiterate it to him forcefully, he says, "That's a bold statement." It's not bold - it's true! I share this sentiment, again, forcefully, with him, he says - "How do you make money? What would you look to sell?" I name a few immediate examples and state - "It's not the product. That's where people get confused. It's having a connected database. If you accomplish that. You can sell anything of value to it."

The village idiot of Las Vegas gets a lump in his throat and a tear in his eye.

I see her at McDonald's panhandling - I put my head down in hope she will not ask for anything. The gesture works. She passes by without saying a word. Thirty minutes later I exit McDonald's and walk across the parking lot to 7-11:

"Mister, do you have a few dollars you can spare? I want to get a hamburger," I had successfully avoided her at McDonald's, but now she had me cornered at the entrance of 7-11. I look to her and say - "You know what? I have five dollars and some change. I am going to use three fifty of it. I will buy you something with whatever is left." - I decide to make the decision for her - "Do you like Snickers? I will have enough for one," she looks at me with sad eyes and says - "I like Snickers." I walk into the store and moments later return.

"Here you go," I say as I hand it to her."Thank-you mister. I appreciate it," she replies kindly. What happens next will forever be etched into my memory. Without a moments hesitation she unwraps the candy bar and annihilates it. Her action reminds me of a cartoon character devouring a submarine sandwich, but not funny...not at all. I stand next to her until she finishes. I then ask a series of questions - "What's your name? How old are you? Where are your parents?" - she answers - "My name is Cecilia. I am fourteen. My mom is in jail right now." Hearing the answers to the questions causes my heart to sink.

"Cecilia, are you thirsty?" - she says yes. I walk back into 7-11 and buy a can of soda. When I return she is gone. "She couldn't have gone far," I think to myself as I circle the perimeter of the store in search of her...I was right. I find her standing next to the store dumpster with whom I would come to find out later is her younger sister. There are a few sacks stuffed with clothes setting next to them. "There you are," I say as I hand the can of soda to her. She thanks me. I then look at her sister. There is an awkward silence and I ask if she would like a can of soda as well, she nods yes. I walk back into the 7-11 and buy another soda, moments later I return and give it to her. "Are you girls living on the street?" There is an awkward silence yet again and Cecilia says cautiously - "Yes, but our aunt is coming from California Saturday to pick us up."

I ask if they had thought about checking into a shelter until their aunt picks them up, Cecilia answers - "I don't want to do that because they will split us up. We just have to be patient until Saturday. Our aunt will get us then." - I refuse to judge - so I wish them luck and head on my way.

I'm a fairly macho guy. I haven't shed a tear in I don't know how long. But I'll be honest - seeing these two standing next to a dumpster knowing they are living in the street and just how vulnerable they actually were. Well, it brought a lump to my throat and a tear to my eye. What did they do to deserve this?

The village idiot of Las Vegas is convinced his ex wife shot a place up in North Las Vegas.

"Where the fuck are you?" - I say to her in a direct tone - "I don't appreciate it when you direct vulgar language at me," she responds. "Sorry," I say sheepishly, "It's just that you really fucked up this time. Did you really have to use an AR-15 to shoot the place up? Jesus, every cop in North Las Vegas is looking for you."

Last week someone used an AR-15 to shoot up a house on Star Manor during a drive by. After hearing the news I immediately called my ex wife to inquire about her whereabouts. "Why is it every time someone gets shot, or a place gets shot up, you always call me? Last week I was in Texas," she then bellows angrily, "It wasn't me!"

I don't believe her and tell her such - "Look, don't give me anymore bullshit. I know it is you. The suspect description is the same over and over again. A middle age lady driving an Explorer with a party color toy poodle sitting in the passenger seat. It can't be a coincidence anymore. I refuse to believe that!" I then ask when she got an AR-15 - "None of your goddamn business," she replies forcefully...she then ends the call by saying - "Look, I am getting ready to take Pepper for a walk. This conversation is over!"

The village idiot of Las Vegas and the Donald Trump piñata.

Quinceanera - celebration of a girl's fifteenth birthday in parts of Latin America and elsewhere in communities of Latin Americans. The birthday is celebrated differently from any others in that it marks the girls transition from childhood to womanhood.

Source *Wikipedia*

As most of us know Donald Trump made some incendiary remarks about Mexicans a few weeks ago. Now, it's not that I am mad about it. After all, I live in America and people are entitled to their opinions (whether I want to hear them or not). Any way, if I was Donald Trump, I would definitely steer clear of the south side of North Las Vegas:

Yesterday I was walking down Owens when I came across a quinceanera at the corner of Owens & McDaniel's. They're fairly routine happenings in the neighborhood. Who knows - one of these days I may get invited to one. Any way, as I am walking by I notice a large group of people gathered around a young lady who was blindfolded. She has a wooden baseball bat in her hands and is swinging it violently at a Donald Trump piñata tethered to a long piece of rope being pulled up and down by a man standing on the roof. It is a comical site.

"Almost," a voice yells from the crowd as she takes another erratic swing - the Donald pinata bobs up and down a few more times and the girl swings and misses again and again. And then the crowd yells in unison - "Now!" This time the girl's violent swing connects squarely thus causing it to rip three quarters apart. The crowd goes into a wild cheer as she slips her blindfold off.

The girl is now standing next to the piñata as it hangs by a thread. The crowd is still cheering - she turns to them and gives a precocious look - and then, at the top of her lungs, yells - "Viva La Mexico!" And with one last violent swing strikes the pinata thus causing the untethered part to travel fifteen to twenty feet in the air. I found something strange about the whole incident. There was nothing in it. I thought piñatas were suppose to have candy in them.

The village idiot of Las Vegas goes over like a lead balloon.

North Las Vegas holds its city council meetings on the first and third Wednesday of each month. At the end of each meeting a public forum is held for all the people who have non agenda issues they wish to share. The rules allow three minutes mic time. Viewership for my blog has been stale of late - So I decide to exercise my three minutes and read a blog post in front of the council:

"Bob Astle, or it's Rob excuse me," the mayor called my number. It was time for me to do the thing I do best in this world...be an idiot. "Mayor, council members, it is good to see everyone again. I was in front of the council a few months ago sharing some ideas and I would like to share a post from my blog." I then begin reading before anyone is able to respond. Besides, I only have three minutes. It was going to take every bit of it.

As I approach the half way point of the reading I glance up to see the reaction of the council. A few are smiling. Seeing it gives me a jolt of confidence. I finish the post at two minutes fifty-five seconds. I look up and wait for a response. The mayor says something humorous. I thank him and the council for their time. I then take my seat. After the meeting adjourns I spend a few minutes politicking and then head for the door.

"I heard all about last night," an unidentified source at city hall informed me the next day that my blog reading had gone over like a lead balloon at the council meeting. I ask why, the source says - "Council meetings are for city business. It's not an open mic night." I inform him the rules state I am allowed three minutes, he says - "I understand, but what does reading your blog in front of the city council accomplish?" I answer - "Look, I know there wasn't much to be gained from the post I read last night. But if you look at a number of ideas I blog about. Some would fit North Las Vegas very well." My source then adds - "Whatever you do, just don't read your blog in front of the council again. I would hate to see you escorted out of the place. I have seen that too many times." We both laugh after the statement and I promise I won't pull the stunt again.

As I sit here putting the finishing touches on the post I think about all the opportunities I see in North Las Vegas. If I get the right people to pay attention to what I am preaching the results will be fruitful. Oh well - the village idiot is just getting warmed up.

Go to the 1:21:15 mark of video if you wish to watch the blog reading:

The village idiot of Las Vegas has a brief encounter with his favorite drunk in town.

The other day I was walking north on McDaniel's en route to the library when I come across my favorite drunk in North Las Vegas...Eddie:

"Goddammit, what are you doing boy?" I yell at him as I am ten yards away. At first he didn't recognize me, and then I come into focus - "Birthday boy," he yells. Last time the two of us met I instructed him to get his drunk, passed out ass off the sidewalk. It was also my birthday, and I didn't appreciate seeing a sorry sight like him on my birthday - "Goddammit Eddie! I haven't seen you in a while. It's good to know you are still alive." I have developed a certain affinity for a number of street people in North Las Vegas. I'm pretty sure it's because they serve as good subjects to humanize in my blog.

Now I am standing directly in front of him. I shake his hand, his hand shake is soft, his hands are trembling and cold - "Eddie, are you okay?" I ask. He says in a slur - "I will be okay once I get my medicine in me. I'm just on my way to the store." I decide enough with the niceties and thus tell him to be careful. I then resume my trek to the library.

The village idiot of Las Vegas gives reasons why he loves McDonald's.

I would say - without question - I have frequented McDonald's a hundred times more than any of its rivals combined. I hold a certain affinity toward Mickey D's. We go back a long ways...so for me to even think about going somewhere else for lunch, not to mention the wifi...the thought is almost blasphemous:

"Do you have to be bilingual to work here?" My neighborhood McDonald's is located at the corner of Eastern & Owens. I was there today and asked my friend Pedro about job requirements - "No man," he replies, "If there is any crossover you pick it up quickly." Pedro refers to me as one of his favorite regulars. He is such a nice young man - I would guess twenty two at tops.

This particular McDonald's is running a counter top up sell campaign for apple pies, which means any time you order they suggest an apple pie with it. I always tell him no before I order, thus saving him the trouble of asking me at the end - Any way, today I decided to test his acuity.

"Give me a cheeseburger, chicken fingers and a coke," I leave out my usual denial of apple pies at the first to see if he is paying attention...he is - "Umm...isn't there something else you forgot to say?" he says amusingly. "That's it," I say with a smile. He adds - with a smile of his own - "What about the apple pies?."

I've listened to him make the suggestion a hundred times, and always declined ...today would be different, I would finally have the apple pies - "Do you want to know something Pedro? Today I want you to throw in some apple pies." He then yells, "Two apple pies." - Two minutes later he announces my number and I devour the fare. After that, I begin to work on my blog.

The village idiot of Las Vegas witnesses a second coming.

As I was walking back from Starbucks yesterday I couldn't help but think how much I will miss Clyde. Earlier in the day Keith and I scraped his lifeless body from the side of the road. The thought of not seeing my butterscotch colored feline friend camped out at the door or by the garbage cans was going to be a disappointment indeed. But in the end I chalked up his demise to a certain peril feral cats in North Las Vegas face constantly...being run over.

It can't be - I thought to myself as I cross the dirt patch that is the front yard of the shit hole I call home. Jesus, he has risen from the dead - was my next thought as I take witness of the one and only 'Clyde the Glide' setting on the very trash can I had thrown his lifeless body into nary four hours earlier.

"It's a miracle Clyde. You're alive!" I yell as I approach and try to pet him - The sudden movement scares him and he runs off. I run into the house and give Keith the miraculous news, he says, - "I had my suspicions when we scraped him up from the street. That cats hair wasn't as thick as Clyde's. But besides that they were an identical match."

No miracle, no second coming, no pet cemetery...it was a case of mistaken identity on my part. See, Clyde has a twin brother named 'Clyde's brother." I rarely see him. Turns out he was the victim and Clyde was no worse for the wear. The news that he was alive and well was a beautiful ending to what has otherwise been a terrible week.

The village idiot of Las Vegas loses a friend today.

"I'm pretty sure Clyde met his maker last night." - Keith - a roommate at the dump truck I call home had sad news for me this morning. "Please tell me he didn't get run over," I say in a somber tone.

Clyde was the feral cat who shared everyone's affections. He was born a year and a half to two years ago. He was the gatekeeper. Unfortunately, he met the violent end I always feared he would.

"The poor bastard," I tell Keith as we scrape him off the side of the road and place his lifeless body into a trash bag - We call animal control but they are unable to come until tomorrow....RIP Clyde

The village idiot of Las Vegas gets dumped by Roxy.

"Jethro, you remind me of this loser boyfriend I had in high school. He was always talking about how he was going to be a big rock star and how I was going to be his girl and all this bullshit that never happened. The only difference between him and you is he was seventeen and hot while you are forty five and look like a refrigerator with a head on it. I am too fucking old nowadays to fall for anymore of this shit." I called Roxy last night because I felt she owed me an explanation about her behavior over the Fourth of July weekend - Be careful what you ask for.

"You want to know something else moron?" I try interrupting but the tactic only enrages her further. "Don't fucking interrupt me why I am talking asshole!" she yells intently, "That's another thing I despise about you. You have no manners whatsoever. Don't ever interrupt me why I am talking Jethro! Do you understand?" I tell her I am sorry and sheepishly ask if I can talk - "Make it fast dip shit. I am getting real fucking tired of this conversation," she replies.

I explain how I have been under a lot of pressure lately and reiterate how much I love and miss her...she interrupts before I can finish. I politely remind her I don't like being interrupted as well...she bellows - "Look, moron, I will interrupt you anytime I feel like it. Besides, you have nothing worthwhile to say. Now I am going to say this one last time. Lose my fucking number!" I sadly agree and then add in haste, "Don't call or text me about getting you a room when you come to town anymore. I will not do it." She sighs angrily after the declaration and pipes - "Don't you worry about it asshole. My days of being your whore are over!"

The Kendall Jenner of Northtown.

"Can you help me remember how to smile? Make it somehow seem worthwhile. How on Earth did I get so jaded? Life's mysteries seem so faded. I can go where no one else can go. I know what no one else knows. Here I am just a drownin' in the rain - with a ticket for a runaway train.

Run Away Train - Soul Asylum

"She looks hungry Dan. I'm going to give her one of my cookies." - Both of us were standing inside the 7-11 on the corner of Eastern & Owens when I look out the window and see my favorite barrio girl in North Las Vegas - Chamilla - standing at the bus stop:

"Hi sweetie," I say as I approach her and ask if she wants the second M&M cookie from my two pack. She smiles, says yes and thanks me for the gesture. As I watch her devour the cookie I can't help but worry about her. See, Chamilla is a five foot tall, one hundred pound, nineteen year old, runaway at fifteen, working girl who has called the streets home for the better part of four years.

"Have you been staying out of trouble? More importantly have you been keeping yourself safe?" - I ask as she crumples up the cookie wrapper and throws it in the trash bin. "You have got to be the nicest guy I have ever met," she says and then adds, "You are always so nice to me. I want you to know I appreciate you looking out for me."

I know a thing or two about street people. Most are resilient...Chamilla is no exception, but still I worry about her roaming the barrio streets. If anything ever happens to my dainty friend I would feel terrible - I've told Dan such and he harbors the same feelings, but both of us agree she is a product of her environment and pray she will live long enough to out grow it.

The bus shows and it is time for Dan and I to tell our young, wayward friend goodbye. As she enters the bus, I say again - "Please watch yourself out here. They're lots of devious people who will take advantage of you given the opportunity." She smiles at me and says - "You really are the nicest guy I know. Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself." I watch her take her seat on the bus and seconds later it leaves - "I hope I don't hear about her being dead one of these days," Dan comments as we watch the bus drive away. I nod in agreement.

The village idiot of Las Vegas runs into a psycho in the bathroom at the North Las Vegas library.

The library is, give or take, a mile from my front door. Today I made the trek there in the midday heat. I arrive and need to use the restroom. I enter and both stalls are occupied. I wait a few moments and a gentlemen in a wheel chair exits one:

"Why are you standing in my way?" - Just another asshole in North Las Vegas - I think to myself as I get out of his path. Actually, I thought, like most people, he was going to wash his hands after doing his business. That's why I chose the particular spot to stand. I tell him such, apologize and get out of his path.

"What's it any of your business whether I wash my hands or not?" - I hear his deep voice say to me as I close the stall door. I respond by saying it wasn't any of my business and apologize again for whatever slight he was feeling.

"I will wash my hands whenever I want. It's none of your business," he yells as I am setting on the throne. I don't know what to say so I say nothing in the hopes he will leave...he doesn't. "Do you want to know something?" Again I say nothing in the hopes he will leave. He then pipes - this time with greater force - "Hey - I am talking to you." I decide to indulge him and thus say - "What do want? I am trying to use the restroom." - He responds by calling me an idiot, not just once but a number of times - Here is where the story would become bizarre for most, but not me. After all, I am the village idiot of Las Vegas. I laugh at his gesture and tell him he should check out my blog. The statement confuses him; or at least shuts him up - because he didn't say anything after it.

I walk out of the bathroom and into the computer room. He's there. He gives me a mad dog look like he wants to fight or something of that nature. I shrug it off. Besides, what am I going to do? Fight a guy who is in a wheelchair. Any way, a few minutes later security shows and inquires about the incident (someone had called them). I give my side of the story and a written statement about it (this wasn't the first time he has hassled someone). Subseqently, the cops show twenty minutes later and 86 the asshole...End of story.

The village idiot of Las Vegas gets tossed from Roxy's hotel room.

"Jesus, you just keep getting fatter. I thought the summer was a time when people lost weight. Obviously, that's not the case with you." Roxy was in town for the Fourth. And unfortunately for me she brought her vitriol with her - "Roxy," I tell her as I suck my gut in, "I have actually dropped a few pounds since we last saw each other." She laughs after the comment and says - "You sure can't tell." We chat a few minutes about the weather and then she says - "Jethro, are you rich yet?" I sheepishly tell her, "No." She smirks and adds, "Why am I not surprised by your answer?"

We move to the sofa and spend a few minutes necking. I try, unsuccessfully, to stick my hand in her shorts. I ask what the problem is...she spurts - "Jethro, why is it that every time you get me a room you automatically think you get to fuck me? I've told you on a number of occasions you are getting something for nothing while every other guy pays for it." I've heard this song & dance from her before so I answer with my standard reply - "It's because you like it when I write about the two of us being together. Come on, you've told me that a number of times," I then jokingly add, "My million dollar tongue has a lot to do with it as well."

I then try again, without success, to stick my hand down her pants...after being rejected a second time, I say -"What is the problem Babe? Is it that time of the month or something?" She snaps back - "No it's not that time of month dip shit. You're the fucking problem Jethro! You and your stupid fucking blog! Why don't you get the fuck out of here. I don't want to listen to anymore of your bullshit! I mean it leave!"

I get up from the couch after her tirade and laugh, she says - "Are you fucking deaf? You and your bullshit! Now get out of here!" For a minute I thought she was playing the drama queen role and then came to realize quickly (after she threw her shoe at me) she wasn't kidding. "Okay," I tell her as I put my shoes on, "I'm going to take a walk and I will be back in a while. Hopefully you will have cooled down by then." I walk to the door to leave, look back at her and ask again what her problem is - she quips once again, "You are my fucking problem! Leave me alone!"

I walk the strip for a few hours in hopes it would be enough time for her to cool down. I then send a text asking if she had calmed down, she replies - "Fuck off." I then decide enough is enough and thus begin my trek back to the friendly confines of North Las Vegas.

The village idiot of Las Vegas watches the strangest argument ever.

There are two sisters with down syndrome who I always see at the library. One of them, without fail, will always ask me for two dollars so they can take the bus. Sometimes I give it to them:

The other day I was sitting in the library's lobby surfing the Internet when I notice the two of them three tables over. And then the strangest thing happens - they start arguing. "I have a boyfriend and he come over anytime he want. You not my boss," the first says. "Mom say you not suppose to have boys in apartment. I tell her and boy not come over," the second replies. It goes silent for a moment and then the one with the boyfriend slams her fist on the table and says - "I put a wig on him and sneak him in. You too dumb to know."

I clear my throat as a hint to let them know they are being too loud and should keep it down. They understand the gesture. It's what happens next that I found both bizarre and funny:

One sister writes a note and gives it the other, she then sticks her tongue out. The other writes something back, mumbles something incomprehensible, sticks her middle finger in the air and pushes it to her sisters forehead. The first sister tries, unsuccessfully, to grab the finger. A few moments pass and the second sister who had the finger to the first sisters forehead writes another note and passes it to her.

"I tell mom you said that," she says after reading the note, "You are bad and you will be in trouble!" She gets up from the table, calls their mother and then begins to walk around in circles - "Mom - Delores saying bad things about me. She write nasty thing as well." I could hear their mothers response on the other end of the line...it wasn't pleasant - "What did I fucking tell you! You two are acting like assholes again! I am so sick of this bullshit! Do you understand?" -  she replies in a solemn voice - "Yes mother."

Any way, I presumed the argument was over. It wasn't - "You get me in trouble with mother. You bad and I tell her about boyfriend." Without hesitation the second sister gets up from the table and begins to walk in circles like the first. She then calls their mother - "What did I tell Delores? I said you two had better start fucking behaving. Don't fucking call me again why I am working! Do you understand?" - the second sister responds as the first - "Yes mother."

After their comeuppance they both sit at the table in silence and pass notes back and forth to each other for, what I would guess, thirty minutes. Then their mother arrives. The glare she gave both was chilling -  "Let's go," she pipes as she snaps her fingers at them. The two get up from their chairs and sheepishly follow her out the library.