The village idiot of Las Vegas meets China White.

I am planning a trip back to Kansas on February 9th. I am positive the Chiefs are going to win the super bowl and I am anticipating the 9th is the day the victory parade will be held. It is going to be so much fun. I can hardly wait:

Girls of Asian descent and raised in America are quite common in Las Vegas - I refer to them as China White's. Since moving to Colorado Springs I had not met one of them until the other night. She might have been the whitest of all the China White's I have met.

Her birth name is Sirum, or something like that. She says that everyone calls her "Sara." I met her at a bar in Manitou Springs. She was my waitress. She was a damn good waitress. Well, we struck up a conversation about what makes Manitou Springs so special - she tells me this - "I have been here for close to ten years and it's all the people that I enjoy most. It is a very ecclectic bunch in Manitou."

She is so pretty, not to mention quite a bit younger than me (I would guess twenty six) but, then again, you never know if you don't ask - so I say - "China White - How about you and me go out for a night on the town. I am new and could use a good tour guide." I didn't really call her China White, but I did ask her out. She smiles at me after the proposal and says - "I don't think so, but maybe I can bring you another beer?" As I prepare to leave I say one last thing before exiting - "China White, I hope to see you around. You remind me of the girls in Las Vegas." For some reason she didn't take the reference kind and thus gave me a dirty glare as I was walking out the door.

My roommate Fred is a manly man, both a scholar and a gentlemen. So whenever I have questions about certain things, I bend his ear - "The reason she didn't like you comparing her to a 'Vegas girl is simple. She thinks you are referring to her as easy or something of that nature." I tell Fred his statement is ludicrous and if she interpreted things that way then I do not need to be hanging around her any way.

The village idiot of Las Vegas and the marijuana eating deers.

My current abode in Colorado Springs sets nestled at 8000 feet in the mountains. It's a very nice place, I certainly have no reason to complain. Well, I take that back. I have found one reason to. All the fucking deer! Every where you turn there is a deer. You drive down the road, a deer. You look out your window, a deer. I think there are more deers in Colorado Springs than rats in the New York subways:

As all of us know - recreational marijuana is legal in the state of Colorado. So the other day I decide to visit one of the dope shops and purchase a small quantity for personal use. When I arrive home I promptly wrap the whole gram into a blunt wrap and step outside on the back porch to partake. As I am getting ready to light up the phone rings. I'd been waiting on a particular call so I decide to drop the joint on the grass and promptly walk inside to answer the phone. I would guess I was on the phone for thirty minutes, more or less. Any way, I walk outside and there are a couple of deers standing in the area where I had dropped my joint. I yell - "Get the fuck out of here!" My yell startles them and they bolt.

As I am walking up to the spot where I both dropped the joint and the deers were herded I get a sinking feeling in my stomach..."Those motherfuckers better not have done what I think they did. I swear I will shoot one of those bastards if they did." I arrive at the spot, look down, shake my head and think to myself - "Goddammit! You assholes!" Sure enough, one of the bastards munched my joint. After realizing it -  I look over at the pack (they were now standing thirty yards or so from me) and promptly flip them the bird. I then yell - "I hope you assholes enjoyed it!"

As I sit here putting the finishing touches on my post I think to myself - "I sure wish it was legal to shoot deers from the back porch. If it was I would stand outside all day and pick the bastards off. It isn't like there are a shortage of them."

The village idiot of Las Vegas whistles and waves at the feminazis in Colorado Springs.

Often times in my life when I noticed an attractive women walking down the sidewalk or driving by in her car I would whistle and wave at her. Sometimes they would choose to ignore me, but more often then not they would smile and wave back. I view such an act as harmless. You know - just a nice way to compliment a women. It's not like I am being vulgar or anything. Just a harmless whistle and wave as they are passing by. With that said...don't try the "wolf whistle" in Colorado Springs. The feminazis living here will treat you as if you have the plague:

A little while back I was driving through Garden of the Gods when I look to my left and notice two attractive women walking on one of the trails. It was just instinct to whistle and wave at them as I was driving by - harmless enough - you would think. I whistle and wave and both immediately give me the foulest look I have ever seen, and then one yells, "Get lost creep!" I have to admit I was taken aback by their reaction, but then I decided to chalk it up as a couple of dycks having a bad day.

Well, a week later I am driving down main street in Manitou Springs when I spot another couple beauties walking down the sidewalk. Out of habit, I whistle and wave at them. Instead of smiling and waving back, which I was fully expecting, both flip me the middle finger.

After the second incident I decide to get another manly mans opinion. So I told my friend Fred about what happens when you whistle and wave at women in Colorado Springs, he says, "Women don't appreciate when guys do that. They see it as threatening." I say, "Jesus, that has to be women in Colorado. I have whistled and waved at literally a thousand women in my lifetime and most have smiled and waved back. I never received such an icy reception from doing it until I came to Colorado."

As I sit here putting the finishing touches on the post a certain thought is going through my mind - "Are things so politically correct nowadays that a guy can't even whistle and wave at an attractive women without looking like a pariah. If that is the case...Jesus. What is the world coming to?"

The village idiot of Las Vegas talks Chiefs and a data base full of Mexicans with Junior.

juxtaposition - a literary technique in which two or more places, ideas, characters and their actions are placed side by side in a narrative or a poem for developing comparisons and contrasts:

"I am telling you that a white boy can get richer than Richie Rich if he is able to build an organic data base full of Mexican Americans - I know just the place where something like that can happen quickly!" I met with my friend Junior from Albuquerque last night. His wife, son and he were on there way from Albuquerque to Denver for a convention this weekend and they stopped by for the night in Colorado Springs where I am currently residing at my senior associate Fred's house.

"What are you going to sell them? Why would a bunch of Mexicans be interested in buying stuff from a fat white boy like you?" It's funny - Fred asked the same question when I ran my idea by him. "Look," I state assuredly, "I bring the juxtaposition to the area (North Las Vegas). That's a very critical part of making things grow in ideas like the one I am proposing."

Junior can sell shit in a shit storm. He is by far and away the best salesmen I have ever known. But he is still hesitant to agree - "I'm still not sure what you would sell to them if you actually had them," he tells me with a puzzling look on his face. I respond in kind - "Junior, we could sell every widget under the sun to them. It's not the product. It's having someone to actually sell the product to." He looks at me even more puzzling this time and says - "You have to have a product that people want. That's how you become successful."

We go back and forth on what is more important - product or data base. My belief is data base, because without it you have no one who will buy the product. His belief is product and then data base will follow. We agree to disagree and then change the subject to the Chiefs - "Jesus," I tell him with a frown, "How in the world do you lose a game that everyone in the world thought you were going to win?" He smiles, laughs and says - "Dude, don't you think they have brought you enough misery in your life. Maybe it's time to start rooting for another team." I tell him a statement like that is considered blasphemy in my eyes and one day they will make it to the Super Bowl. I just hope it happens before I die.

The village idiot of Las Vegas comes across an unchained Killer.

Back in the days of my youth a family that lived a few houses up from me had a doberman pinscher named Killer. He was always tethered to a tree with a chain and whenever my buddies or I walked by we made it a habit to tease him. I knew in the back of my head I would be in deep trouble if I ever came across Killer unchained:

I remember it like it was yesterday - I was taking my usual short cut home from the ball fields, which entailed walking by Killer's house. His usual resting spot was under the tree he was chained to and I felt something was wrong when I didn't see him there. I take a few more steps and then, much to my chagrin, there he is, staring directly at me...unchained.

It was a moment in time that some would consider suspended. Maybe that's not the best way to say it. Let's just put it in laymen terms - "I was so scared I almost soiled myself." I was now standing a few feet away from the biggest, meanest, angriest dog I had ever seen and he was holding a grudge against me - I did what anyone in my predicament would do - I ran for my life. 

As I am sprinting home I could literally feel Killer's nose buried in my ass. I was for sure he was going to take a big bite out of it. He chased me right to my doorstep. Thankfully - I made it out of the incident unscathed. 

Decades have pasted since I last saw Killer but I still think about him. I now realize why. He was a mighty beast that spent his whole life on a chain - but the one time he was off - he let me know just how powerful and scary he really is.

The village idiot of Las Vegas quotes Donald Trump; talks Groupon beginnings; pitches his plan about twenty thousand Mexicans and how to scale and sees the most beautiful girl in Las Vegas.

"It's that sucking sound. It's the sound of money and jobs being sucked out of the country. It's the sound of the life being sucked out of America."

"The leaders of China and Mexico are so much smarter and more cunning than ours. Don't get me wrong, I have a lot of Chinese and Mexican friends. I have made a lot of money off the both of them."

Donald Trump

Groupon was founded in the fall of 2008. The website hinges on a process called Collective Buying Power. CBP is best defined as taking a large, fertile data base and butting it up against a relevant product or service:

Groupon started as a site called The Point in downtown Chicago. The original premise was to get people to act on civic issues. Example: If there was graffiti on a wall or a pot hole in the road.instead of a few people reporting it, the site procured numerous people to act. Well, enter the collapse of 2008 and the data base was shifted to a consumer format (Groupon was created) - the data base of twenty thousand was shifted from The Point to Groupon and the rest is history.

Now that you have a brief history of Groupon I will put things as concisely as I can. There is a Spanish Groupon to be had in North Las Vegas. My extensive efforts and research tell me such. The section of North Las Vegas I've been canvassing the last eight months possesses all the traits and characteristics to make such a claim viable. It has the cohesiveness, sense of community, crowd, fervor, businesses and urban setting...all in bushels.

The only thing missing from the equation is a community blogger (me). See, there is no one like me in North Las Vegas! No one even close! I have a very deep knowledge of how things will come together. It is imperative a person be able to sell the site and communicate the message. My career in sales and marketing coupled with impeccable blogging and communication skills make me the ideal choice to spearhead such a venture.

Twenty thousand consumers to a data base - It can be done! I know how things work! One last thing, if CBP is done correctly in the beginning, the ability to scale becomes massive. One more last thing - if anyone is naive enough to believe Hispanics won't bode well as a market, they should reconsider - Census numbers quote one and a half trillion in consumer spending by the Hispanic population in 2015. I anticipate the number to grow exponentially (as long as Donald Trump doesn't decide to deport all of them:)

One more last thing, the most beautiful girl in Las Vegas walked into the computer lab today. I try my best not to stare. But the task proved impossible. She was really dolled up today. As usual it is a heavenly sight.

Donald Trump; beautiful women; Asians and Hispanics. The village idiot of Las Vegas talks about them all.

I walk into the library today and she is standing at the front desk chatting with her friend Joe. It's been a while since I saw her up close. Well, I lost my library card last week and was in need of a new one so I hand Joe my ID and he begins the process of replacing it. Now I am standing a few feet away from her while I wait - I decide to say something to her - "How are things going today?" I ask sheepishly. She looks up from the pamphlet she is reading and gives me a look of disgust and then looks back down. The action doesn't faze me. After all, I am accustom to such looks from women, especially beautiful women. Nonetheless - she is a heavenly sight.

"I tell you what boy. Donald Trump has awoken the silent majority in this country. He is saying it just like your grandpa said it a long time ago." I called a friend from Kansas over the weekend...our discussion turned to politics quickly - "Do you know what I really like about him? And I have been saying and practicing the same thing for the longest time. Why can't Americans figure out a way to make money off the Chinese and Mexicans? They're sucking all the money and jobs out of the country and no one is doing a goddamn thing to try an make money off of them." We chat a bit more about politics and he says - "I would really like to see someone get in there who will get the economy humming again. Someone who will not scare private investment away. Trump has the talk, but does he have the walk?"

Both of us agree Trump winning the presidency is a long shot, but what if it actually happens. What would the country look like? I add my two cents - "Like I said earlier - He is encouraging entrepreneurs to devise ways to make money off the Chinese and Mexicans. He is encouraging a global economy. All the other candidates combined haven't mentioned a thing about it. If they have it didn't resonate with me. Trump's statements do!"

He asks me about the girl at city hall (the one I mention in the first paragraph) and if I thought I had chance - "No," is my answer. I then remind him of a number of ideas I have worked on through the years - "People don't realize how ingrained I am in the Asian community of Las Vegas. Do you remember when I blogged about having ten restaurants signed up for electronic coverage in Chinatown? When I had those ten contracts in my hand I was literally holding a million dollars. At the time I was unable to find the necessary group to help take the plan to completion. People weren't paying attention then. But hey, look what Trump is saying - And now I have established a great relationship with a number of people in North Las Vegas. If given the support I will spearhead the effort to get twenty thousand Hispanic consumers to a data base. They are there brother. It can be done! I promise you that."

As we are wrapping up our conversation he says something poetic to me - "Jeez, you would think a guy would get tired of trying. Don't get me wrong. I love your blog. It's just that everything you blog about is self deprecating. I mean it's always about how women hate you, or some homeless person you met, or how you're broke, or something of that nature. But you never get deterred. It's like your oblivious to things." I thank him for his patronage to the blog and say - "The Chinese and the Mexicans and all the things that could come from it are hard for people to understand unless they come out and see it first hand. It's real...it's very real! I have all the connections and experience to make it work. The thing I lack is adequate resources. I can tell you this with certainty brother. I will never give up! I am too close! It is too big! I am butted up next to it and no one but me knows how to make it work! One last thing - I should send a donation to Trump's campaign. He is solely responsible for reawakening people to my beliefs!"

Donald Trump and the Mexicans in North Las Vegas.

Tortilla Flats - an often coined nickname for heavily populated Hispanic areas. Steinbeck is often credited with making the term a popular part of the English vernacular in his book of the same name.

Watching Donald Trump's presidential run has been comical. It's like watching excellent improv every time he gets behind the mic. How else should it be described? Most of the stuff he spews goes in one ear and out the other, but there is one thing I have taken offence to. Actually - taking offence to it is a bit of stretch. Let's just say I don't believe it. Not for one bloody minute:

"I lead in the polls of Hispanic voters in Nevada," he spouts on Fox News. "What fucking poll? I don't believe that for a minute you douche bag," I yell back at the television. See, anyone who believes Donald Trump will carry the Hispanic vote in a general election is living in fantasy land. And the claims he is popular with Hispanics in Nevada - I am hear to tell everyone who will listen...it's bullshit.

Why am I so sure the Donald's proclamation is false? I live in Tortilla Flats. It doesn't get anymore Mexican! So yesterday I decide to take an informal poll of a few of its residents (nothing scientific). Any way, I asked the guy who works at the convenience store what he thought of Donald Trump. He laughed and said - "He's funny, but I won't vote for him." I then ask if any of his friends would vote for him - "Not anyone I know," is his response.

After exiting the convenience store I walk across the parking lot and ask a man and women who were getting ready to enter the laundromat the same question - "He's funny but I we won't vote for him," is the answer from both. I then ask if any of their family or friends plan to. Both give a resounding - "No." I repeat the question to twenty or so different people (all Hispanics) and everyone answers similar - "He's funny, but I won't vote for him."

The poll he keeps referencing is complete and utter bullshit. Anyone who believes his proclamation about winning the Hispanic vote in a general election needs to get back on their medication. Let's put it this way...If Donald Trump gets elected president and carries the Hispanic vote I will run naked down Las Vegas Blvd.

The village idiot of Las Vegas and his Roxy issue.

"Now listen carefully Jethro. The answer to your question is not no...it's fuck no!" - I was hoping for better results when I called last night. The hope was she would consider giving me another chance. Once again my hopes were dashed - "Listen idiot, I am very busy and you are interrupting me. I don't have time for bull shit right now." No matter her disposition I am one hundred percent convinced Roxy is the girl for me - I tell her such for the hundredth time - "Look Jethro," she says with an irritating voice, "I have a new boyfriend now. A real man, a man who knows how to take care of a women like me. Something you are incapable of doing."

I get it - she deserves better than me. The thing she is discounting is the upside I possess - I reiterate the belief, she says - "Jethro, don't give me any bull shit about how you are going to get a bunch of Mexicans in a data base or all the Chinese restaurants you signed up. No one gives a fuck! You are just too stupid to realize it."

The underlying problem in our relationship boils down to a lack of vision on her part. - "Babe," I say as I ready myself to tell her my belief once again - but before I am able to bring my thoughts to words - she pipes - "How many fucking times do I have to tell you? Don't call me Babe!" - I apologize for the breach of etiquette and then say - "Roxy, all I want to do is make you happy. I want to take care of you. I am positive one of these days I will have money running out my ass. When it happens I will give you everything! All I ask is you be patient."

After the statement I hear her murmur something on the other end of the line, she then says crisply - "Look, why don't you go chase every Mexican in North Las Vegas around and see if you can get them to a data base. If that doesn't work, and it won't! Then you should take your stupid ass back to Chinatown and see if the China man is interested in your idea. Oh, that's right, you struck out there as well."

A friend of mine asked why I keep pursuing Roxy - "She is sort of a bitch dude," is an abbreviated way in how he describes her: His comments caused some deep thoughts with me - I love her. That much is obvious. But beyond that, and this will sound very bizarre to most, it's just the nastier and more standoffish she is towards me - the more I crave her. I know. I have some serious issues.

The village idiot of Las Vegas updates Fred on the dope game in North Las Vegas.

"Fred - it's official. The first medical marijuana dispensary in Nevada opened for business last week. It opened in Sparks, which is a suburb of Reno." - I have been keeping an associate from Colorado updated on the Mary Jane business in North Las Vegas the last few months - "How did that happen if the licensed cultivation outfits are still unable to sell their goodies to the dispensaries," he asks curiously.

"Where there is a will there is a way Fred," I tell him emphatically - Actually, there is a loophole in the law that allows medical marijuana cardholders to donate weed they have grown privately to dispensaries. The product will not last long, but hey, it's a start.

"When do you think medical marijuana will be full boat in Nevada," he asks intently - "I'm not sure," is my response, I then add - "I would guess it won't be long. After all, North Las Vegas funded it's last quarter of government with fees it collected by issuing cultivation and dispensary licenses for marijuana. If you think about that, and then realize not a single joint has been sold at a dispensary in the NLV. Well, it makes you wonder. There can't be that much more red tape to cut through." - I would think so, but who knows for sure - on the red tape that is.

"What are the projections for revenue again. I know they're humongous," - The thing I admire most about Fred - he doesn't care about all the bull shit that comes along with the game. He wants brass tacks - "Fred," I say forcefully, "You have seen first hand all the tax revenue the dope game generates in Colorado. Jesus, tax revenue was north of two hundred fifty million in the first year of legalization. Now just imagine one and a half times that in Nevada when it is legalized across the board." - "That's a lot of fucking money," is his candid response.

The village idiot of Las Vegas muses about his life.

My Uncle Ned said something foretelling to me a long time ago in front of the whole family at a Thanksgiving dinner - "Do you want to know something dummy? The reason you keep getting dumped is because the girls you date get to know you after a while and realize how big of a loser you are." The years have passed and good ol' Uncle Ned's statement still rings true to this very day.

I met the most stunning girl ever at North Las Vegas city hall. If you use a baseball analogy to sum up our relationship, it would resemble this - She is an all-star batting clean up for the first place Royal's. I am the guy in the parking lot trying his best to scrounge up a ticket to get in the ballpark.

All is not lost on self pity today. It's humorous how a smile can come to my face by reminiscing about the days of my youth - Madison, Kansas had its fare share of clowns when I was growing up. But one clown in particular stands out from the rest. He was a lad by the name of Org. Watching him play video games at the snack shop will forever be etched into my memory - "Bleep you Mario! You bleeping bleepsucker!" It didn't matter if he was playing Donkey Kong, Galaga, Defender, Centipede or pinball. Org brought a ratcheted intensity to any video game in front of him. One day I was watching him play Asteroids and he was knocked off the game - he yells - "You kamikaze bleepsucker," at the top of his lungs and then punches the screen causing it to crack. It is still one of the funniest things I have ever seen.

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.

The village idiot of Las Vegas considers a new path for his blog.

"Did you know North Las Vegas used a substantial amount of the fees they've collected from growers and dispensaries to fund last quarter's government? And not one dispensary has opened yet." Yesterday, Dan and I were discussing all the new money that would flow into the Las Vegas valley once marijuana dispensaries officially open.

"Wait, let me get this straight," he says, "The dispensaries are already playing a big role in funding local government and not one of them is open for business yet. Whew, just imagine the money that will roll in once they actually open and start selling the product."

"Dan," I say with a hint of enthusiasm, "How do you think guys like us can get in on the marijuana game? Projections put the business, in just Nevada alone, at two billion dollars in it's third year. There is so much fucking money to be made. And the great thing about is we are in the nascent stage."

"I have a suggestion for you," he smiles and adds, "Why don't you gear your blog towards the marijuana game in Nevada? Think about it, if local government is being funded with fees from the industry and like you said - 'Not a single joint has been sold from a dispensary yet.' Well, you should think about shifting the focus of your blog to the marijuana hurricane that's fixing to hit Las Vegas. Think about all the money that will be up for grabs," he then adds, much to my pleasure, "Come on dude! You're the village idiot. No one knows the streets and the game better than the village idiot. It would be a perfect fit for you!"

As I set here putting the finishing touches on my blog I can't help but think about what Dan said. He was right, no one knows more about what's going on in Las Vegas than me...actually I should rephrase the statement to read - "Very few no more than me about what's going on in Las Vegas." 

  

What's going on with the marijuana game in Las Vegas?

"Oh my my, oh hell yes. Honey put on that party dress. Buy me a drink, sing me a song. Take me as I come cuz' I can't stay long...Last dance with Mary Jane one more time to kill the pain."

Mary Jane's Last Dance - Tom Petty

From everything I hear and read it sounds as if the medical marijuana business is going to hit like a ton of bricks in the Las Vegas valley soon. The question being: How soon?

"This is the address listed in the county register. I don't see anything that resembles a dispensary." Jayball is hooked up with a group of growers who are looking to make a splash in the Mary Jane business - so the other day both of us rode around town checking out listed dispensary locations. We found no hint of any dispensaries, or dispensaries being built.

"How come all these places are empty? Isn't Mary Jane season just around the corner?" He shrugs and says - "That's what my guys are telling me. Last week I spent six hours shoveling horse shit at a warehouse in Henderson. My partners and I are getting ready for the inaugural grow cycle." I ask how long a grow cycle takes, he says - "Two to six months depending on different factors." I then ask if he thought dispensary owners were waiting until grow season begins before they started building out their dispensaries - He didn't know.

"It's probably more red tape holding up the process. You know how bureaucracy works," I tell him - he says - "Yeah, you are probably right, but the the thing I find perplexing is there are twenty six dispensaries that are suppose to be coming online in the next two to six months. And right now I don't see a hint of one in the areas I have checked."

"You know what is going to happen. I can see it right now Jayball. Whatever red tape that is holding up the dispensaries will be resolved soon," I then add, "Mary Jane will hit like a hurricane, all at once, and extremely fucking hard...I bet that's how it all begins in Las Vegas."

The village idiot of Las Vegas discovers the identities of his roommates imaginary girlfriends.

"Last night Ronda and I wrestled naked on the living room floor and then we jumped in the shower together. She likes a nice shower after we, well you know, after we fornicate." A roommate of mine at the dump truck I call home is named Keith. Turns out one of his imaginary girlfriends is Ronda Rousey.

"Keith," I say with a wide smile, "I think Ronda is stepping out on you. I read online that she was dating some guy from the UFC. She went to some awards show with him." We both enjoy a hearty laugh after the comment and he says - "That bitch! She said I was her one and only. I knew I couldn't trust her. No worries though, I will have my other girlfriend come over tonight instead." I ask who that might be, he says - "Oh you know her quite well. It is the lovely Jenna Jameson."

The village idiot of Las Vegas tells Fred why he loves the NLV so much.

"Fred - you know why I like North Las Vegas so much?" - "Why," he says -  I say, "I know something big is in the works for me in North town. It is changing here. And the people who are most adaptable to the change are the ones who will thrive."

Fred says, "When are you going to capture what you have been chasing? You've been at it a long time."

"It's a different breed up here," I tell him. "People are a ton more open in North town than anywhere else I have been. Besides, they need me and I need them." Fred rolls his eyes after my statement and says, "Saying something like that makes you sound really bizarre. Actually, it makes you sound obsessive." I shrug my shoulders and add, "I know I come off as a bit obsessive, but North Las Vegas is the place for me."

The village idiot of Las Vegas updates his friend Fred about the marijuana business in Las Vegas.

"I'm in love with Mary Jane. I'm not the only one. If Mary wants to play around, I let her have her fun. She's not the kind of girl that you can just tie down. She likes to spread her love and turn your head around. Do you love me Mary Jane?"

Mary Jane - Rick James

"What do you hear about the marijuana business in Las Vegas?" - Fred was requesting more information about a budding, no pun intended, business in Nevada - "It looks like the medical dispensaries are going to start popping up left and right in the next three to six months," I tell him - I then add, "They solved the pesticide problem that was holding up grow season - Mary Jane is just around the corner."

We chat about the weather for a few minutes and he says - "When do you think it will be fully legalized?" I answer, "My sources tell me they will be following the Colorado model, meaning, a vote for legalization will be on the ballot in 2016. Everyone expects it to pass. Give it a year in regulation and come January 1st, 2018 (first day of legalization) the Las Vegas valley will be one big cloud of marijuana smoke."

One of the things I admire most about Fred is his nose for the dollar - "What are some of the projections you are hearing. Is it going to be anything like the money Colorado makes?" - I say with emphasis - "Fred, the higher up are stating 1.5 to 2 billion in taxable revenue two or three years into legalization. You know it is going to get taxed at 20% to 30%. I'm not great at math, but I can still figure it out...four to six hundred million dollars in new tax revenue!"

We chat about the weather again for a few minutes and he says - "It sounds like businesses are going to start printing money real soon." When he wants to he can be very perceptive - I answer - "Yes sir, the indicators are all pointing that way." I then close with, "There is one thing that is totally indisputable about the whole marijuana game." Fred asks- "What?" - I say firmly, "The state is beyond broke! It needs new taxable revenue any way it can get it. Besides, people are going to use marijuana irregardless of whether it is legal or not...so you might as well legalize and tax it.

The village idiot of Las Vegas leaves a bottle of Coors Light for his favorite drunk in North Las Vegas - Eddie.

"At least he's not lying in the middle of the sidewalk like usual," I thought to myself as I walk by his passed out ass again. Eddie, my favorite drunk in North Las Vegas, is lying on what appeared to be fresh cut grass with a nice shade tree overhang - you could see the slobber coming from his mouth as he let out soft snoring sounds. Since he wasn't lying in the middle of the sidewalk, as I usually find him, I decide to leave him be.

An hour or so later I walk by him again and he is still sawing logs. Well, this time, I decide to help my good friend out - See -- I had a six pack of Coors Light and I know he will be thirsty when he awakens...so I left a cold bottle for him (at his feet) to drink once he does awake - I'm positive he'll appreciate the gesture.

The village idiot of Las Vegas talks about guerrilla marketing and hyper local markets in Hispanic neighborhoods with Councilman Barron.

Before you are allowed to go to the council offices on the ninth floor at North Las Vegas city hall you must first check in at the information desk in the lobby:

"I have a meeting with Councilman Barron at four," I tell the security guard setting at the station. You would think saying something so routine would be easy, it wasn't - See, the most beautiful girl in Las Vegas was setting maybe four feet from me on the other side of the reception desk. I was going to say something to her but she looked occupied - "Okay...you can get on the elevator now," the guard tells me after calling the council's office. I sneak one last peek at her before getting on the elevator...she is a heavenly site to say the least.

I walk into Councilman Barron's office on the ninth floor and am greeted immediately, he asks if I would like a bottle of water - I say yes, he walks around the corner and moments later returns with it. "How have you been doing Mr. Astle? Please have a seat." The councilman has an easygoing manor about him...it makes things comfortable - he then asks what he can do for me. I start with my diatribe.

"Councilman Barron, thank you for seeing me. I want to follow up on something we talked about previously. I have been researching more about Hispanic tendencies and purchasing power and I am here to say there are all sorts of opportunities to be had if my research proves correct and things are attacked correctly." He asks what I mean by attacked correctly, I say - "I propose a small guerrilla marketing team be established under my direction." He asks what I mean by guerrilla marketing, I say - "Guerrilla marketing has its roots in guerrilla warfare - think of it as going to war and relying on creativity and connections versus big budget spending."

We talk a few minutes about the weather and then the conversation turns to the good people at Hartke Park - "Councilman," I say with all the conviction in the world, "Hartke Park and all the people who go there would make an excellent jumping off point for what I am proposing." He says, "What do you mean by that?" I say, "They're so many people in the target market who are down there at one time, I would strive to throw a lasso over the place," I then take a deep gulp and add, "Basically I want to make them laugh! If that happens? Good Lord councilman - the sky would be the limit!"

The village idiot of Las Vegas watches his favorite China man flip out.

Yesterday a couple of roommates and I were setting in the living room of the dump truck I call home watching the basketball game when our crazy China man landlord appeared. The following is a brief excerpt of the event:

"How many times I tell you? I not hear to air condition all of North Las Vegas! Close door!" My landlord is a crazy Asian fellow by the name of Bruce Lee (I kid you not that is his real name). Any way, the thing that angers him most is when he catches the doors or windows open in one of his houses when the air conditioning is running. And that just so happened to be the case.

"Bruce," I tell him sarcastically, "It smells like a sewage pit in this shit hole. I was just airing it out. Besides you have the AC set at 80! I don't even think it has kicked on yet." He wasn't appreciative of my response and told me such - "It not house that stink! You are smelly motherfucker. Why don't you go jump in pool at recreation center and you smell better!"

"No reason to act like an asshole about it," I tell him as I close the door - "Chill out China man," I add as I set back down on the couch and continue watching the game. I thought it was over. But turns out his aggravation was headed to another level. "You not pay bill for AC! How many times I tell you guys to close door when AC running? I think some time you the one who don't understand English."

After his rant he walks through the living room and towards the porch - I then hear him shriek again - "Fuck! Shit! fuck! Are you people deaf? Back door open too! How many times I tell people to close fucking door. I not interested in air conditioning all of North Las Vegas. I swear house full of morons here." He then walks through the living room again; opens the front door to leave; slams door shut upon his exit; yells something inaudible and gets in his car and leaves.

The village idiot of Las Vegas and the beautiful day in his neighborhood.

"This neighborhood isn't so bad. So what if you see crackheads and working girls walking up and down the street. They don't bother me and I don't bother them," my sister called yesterday to inquire about my whereabouts. She'd been informed I was living in a rough area of Las Vegas. The truth being I see the area I call home as a Garden of Eden. I would never ever use the word rough to describe it.

"Fred said it was scary when he came to visit you. He also said the house you live in was way worse than how you described. Do you ever hear gunshots in your neighborhood?" My friend Fred was in town last week and I gave him a tour of my neighborhood. He didn't say it, but I know he found it a cultural shock - "Look," I tell my sister, "If Fred was to spend a little time in the area it would grow on him like it has grown on me. And to answer your question about gunshots, yeah, I hear them every once in a while, but as long as they ain't firing them at me. Why should I care?"

We chat a little more about the weather and then she says - "It sounds like you're the only white guy around your place. Doesn't that make you nervous," the first thirty five years of my life were spent in a predominantly white neighborhoods in Kansas -- which was fine. The problem being, and I hate to sound cliche - we ain't in Kansas anymore - "Look," I say again to my sister, "There is a thousand more times to grow for a guy like me in the eight blocks or so I roam in North Las Vegas than I would ever find in the whole state of Kansas. That's the way I see it. I have decided to live or die with what North Las Vegas is willing to give me."

The village idiot of Las Vegas drinks some beers with a yard full of Mexicans.

"He's a real nowhere man, sitting in his nowhere land, making all his nowhere plans for nobody. Doesn't have a point of view, knows not where he's going to. Isn't he a bit like you and me. Nowhere man please listen, you don't know what you're missing."

Nowhere man - The Beatles


Yesterday I was walking home from the library when I came across a crowd of young Latino males drinking beer in the yard of a house on the corner of McDaniel & Stanley. I smile, nod and proceed on my way. All of sudden I hear one say - "Gringo, do you want a beer?"

My first inclination is he was talking to someone else, but then I realize I am the only gringo within a mile radius. I don't want to come off as rude, so I say - "A cold cerveza sounds good." I walk around the fence and enter through the driveway. One of them yells - "Heads up!" He tosses me a cold bottle of Modelo. I open it and take a hefty swallow, I then say - "Gracias Senor," he says - "De nada." There was an awkward silence and then another quips - "I always see you walking around the neighborhood. What's your deal?" I tell him I live in a dump truck a few blocks over and don't have a car. So my only means of transportation is Fred & Barney.

"Fred & Barney - what's that?" He didn't get the Flintstones reference. I explain to him it's an Anglo reference for someone who doesn't have a car and their only mode of transportation is by foot. "I get it now," he snickers, "The cartoon." Everyone shares a hearty laugh and then another guy says - "Why does a white boy like you live down here with all us Mexicans...are you crazy?" I tell him how much I like the neighborhood and all the potential I see in it, he says - "What kind of potential do you see in a place like this?" 

I explain a few ideas I'm having, he wasn't catching on, but it's okay. The ideas I have are much easier to understand if they are in action versus me explaining. I then notice one of them is wearing a Lebron Jame's jersey. I ask if he thinks the Cavaliers are going to win the title, he says - "The king and his court vato! They are going to take it all. They better win I have them at +240 to win it all." He pulls a betting ticket from his pocket, kisses it and says - "Traer mi Lebron!" I think, but I'm not for sure, the English equivalent is 'Bring it home Lebron.'

I drink a few more beers and then tell them I must be on my way. As I am getting ready to walk away one of them says - "I get what you are talking about now. Your idea that is. You want to get rich off the back of a million Mexicans. You know that we spend money and you want to get in on the action homie." I look at him and say, "Yeah, pretty much. I don't know if I would say it like that. My research says there is limitless potential in the Latino market as pertains to their purchasing power. Especially when you talk about online goods and services. That is a better way to say it." I thank them again for the beers and the hospitality and continue my trek home.

The village idiot of Las Vegas goes to a North Las Vegas city council meeting with his senior associate Fred.

"Get ready to see the most beautiful girl in all of Las Vegas," a senior associate of mine (Fred) was in town and we were attending Wednesday's North Las Vegas city council meeting. "Don't stare," I tell him, "We don't want to weird her out." As were passing I wave, she waves back - Fred says, "You weren't kidding - she is gorgeous." I tell Fred how much I would like to ask her out, he quips sarcastically, "Good luck with that."

As we're setting in the lobby waiting to enter the meeting a group of people gather around next to us. They are wearing buttons that read -TNR. Fred asks what it stands for. I had no idea so I ask a lady next to us who is wearing a button, she says, "TNR stands for trap, neuter and release." The acronym was making reference to all the feral cats who call North Las Vegas home.

Five minutes or so pass and we enter the auditorium where the council meeting is being held. I immediately look for Councilman Barron (he's the gentlemen I soft pitched a few ideas to recently). He is extremely busy but I manage to introduce Fred to him...albeit it was a brief introduction.

We take our seats and right before the meeting is set to start a lady behind us says - "Tonight is when they are granting a number of licenses for marijuana cultivation. I am here to address my concerns. My business is located next to a proposed grow facility. I have a number of safety concerns." I ask her concerns - she says, "What if someone is freaking out and wants a lid (slang for an ounce of marijuana) and comes into my business by mistake?" I reassure her that she will be alright and if someone should stumble into her place by accident she should just point them in the right direction - I close our conversation with - "Complain all you want. It will fall on deaf ears. There's no stopping the marijuana gold rush."

After twenty minutes or so of attendance Fred and I decide we've had all the fun we can handle. As we are walking to the car, I turn to him and say - "Judging by the agenda of tonights meeting it looks like a few people are fixin' to get in the marijuana business." Fred looks at me, shakes his head and says - "Yes sir, it sure appears that way."

The village idiot of Las Vegas gets a birthday present from his favorite drunken bum..

Today was a glorious day in North Las Vegas, not to mention it was my birthday as well. To tell the truth most of the day was uneventful, no stripper jumping out of a cake or antics of that nature. However, something interesting did occur...I ran into my favorite drunk in North Las Vegas - Eddie.

"Not again," I thought to myself as I spot him in the distance. A few weeks ago I found him passed out on the sidewalk. Initially, I was going to step over him and continue on my trek and then I thought about my civic duty, so I awoke him and pointed him to the park. He could sleep there and no one would care. Plus he would prove much less of an eyesore to the community.

As I am approaching him for the second time while he is passed out on the sidewalk my initial thought again was to step over him and head on my way, and then my sense of civic duty kicks in once again - "Goddammit! Why do you have to pass out on the sidewalk?" I yell as I kick the soul of his shoes. "Do you know how bad it makes the neighborhood look to have some guy passed out where everyone can see him? Why don't you go to the fucking park like I told you last time?"

My rant wakes him from his drunken stupor. He proceeds to wipe his eyes; scratch his head; and then says in a slur - "Sorry man, it just hit me. I've been warned about it. I just can't help myself." I roll my eyes and say, "Today is my birthday and the last thing I want to see is a guy passed out in the middle of the sidewalk. Come on! Have some pride! Kids walk by here all the time!" I then extend my hand down to him, he grabs hold and I pull him to his feet - "Go pass out where no one can see you," I say as I prepare to walk away.

I should have left good enough alone, but idiots like me never do - "Look," he murmurs as I am twenty or so paces from him, "If it's your birthday let me buy you a beer." The last thing he needed was another beer, but since he was offering and it's my birthday - I say - "Yeah man, what the hell. I could use a beer." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wrinkled five dollar bill and instructs me to go into the CVS and buy a couple Mickey's. I do such and five minutes later return.

"Thanks, I appreciate it," I say to him as I twist the top off and take a huge swallow. He then says in his drunken slur - "Thanks for waking me. It's time for me to go home." He turns and began to stumble his way home I presume, I head in the opposite direction. A few moments pass and he yells - "Happy birthday dude," I raise my beer to him in thanks without stopping, turning around or saying a word.

The village idiot of Las Vegas is given no chance by Jayball.

"Take your forefinger and your thumb and join them at the tip. What does it make?" Riggs is a living legend in Las Vegas - Me? Not so much...but still one must stay positive. "Riggs," I say with scant confidence in my tone, "You never know. It could happen."

The reason for the disagreement is because I told him I could get the J.Lo lookalike at North Las Vegas city hall to go out with me. He said the statement was the most ludicrous thing he had ever heard - "Look," he says again, "Do it for me. Come On! Take the tip of your forefinger and the tip of your thumb and press them together. What does it make?" I try to interrupt and he continues, "What does it make Jethro? It makes a fucking zero! That's how much chance you have with a women like that."

I know he is right, but goddammit there's always that slim chance she might say yes...stranger things have happened. Right? - "Jayball," I say again...this time with even less confidence, "She is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. I can't get her off my mind. If she would go out with me I would feel like I was the luckiest guy in North Las Vegas. I am going to ask her out and see what happens."

After my declaration he mumbles on about how I am going to look like a fool when she says no and how he tried to save me from the embarrassment, he then adds, one more time - "Seriously Jethro, take the tip of your forefinger and the tip of your thumb and press them together. What does it make? It makes a zero! That's how much chance you have of her going out with you," he then hangs up without saying bye.

The village idiot of Las Vegas and the million Hispanics in his neighborhood.

Definitions of organic growth differ depending on who you ask or what the situation is. I have been mulling over an organic growth strategy aimed at the Latino market in North Las Vegas:

"Dan, how many people do you think are out there playing and watching soccer?" - I was setting on the bleachers at Hartke Park in North Las Vegas with my BFF - Dan the man - we were surrounded by scores of people ...all of them Hispanic. "I don't know," he says, "But one thing is for certain there are a lot of them."

I then ask if he thought if all the people in the park were assimilated to America, he says, "Probably not all of them, but I would guess a majority. More like ninety percent, most of the first generation, and definitely all of the second." Dan the man has called North Las Vegas home for the better part of thirty years. He is familiar with all the ins and outs of the town.

"Do you think this crowd (Hispanics) would be apt to listen to an idea I have?" I then add, "The basis of it would be attention grabbing with the underlying intention of driving them to a website or collecting their information in a database." He scratches his head and says - "What do you mean? Are you talking about trying to sell them something? What would be the benefit of doing it?"

"Dan," I say with conviction, "If you are going to hit a lick nowadays, especially in the online world, the number one requirement is having a database. There's a ton of room in the Hispanic market. They are projected to account for over a trillion dollars in spending in 2015. I am positive I can give them something they like, or at least pay attention to."

"What do you have in mind?" he says. "Think about this for a moment," I say with a sense of surety, "If I were to aim a blog, or a product, or a service, or even some sort of reality show format at them. That would be getting in at the ground floor, and that is where you want to be!"

The village idiot of Las Vegas watches Jayball finesse his way to another date.

"Jethro, I am going to ask our waitress for her number," Saturday night Jayball and I were watching the fights at Twin Peaks, he then adds - "Do you want to know something else? I have a thing for redheads." Jules, the waitress, had flowing red hair, a rippled stomach, gorgeous facial features and just about everything a heterosexual man finds appealing.

She walks up to our table and asks if we need another round. Jayball, being the living legend he is, says - "You know something sweetheart. I think you are very nice. And since I don't see a ring on your finger I have a question for you," he then reaches out, grabs her hand and adds, "Why don't the two of us go to dinner at Pierro's next week?"

Most women are unable to resist his charm, not all, but most - she smiles and says, "I work every night next week so I'm sorry, I won't be able to do it," she then asks again if we need another round - he says - "Have you ever been to Pierro's?" -- She smiles and says, "No," he quips, "Now is your chance."

What happens next is why I hold him in such high regard: "Well," she smiles and adds, "Since it is Pierro's and I have always wanted to go there. Wednesday evening will work for me." Most men would clear their schedule in a heartbeat if a women like this succumbed to them - I know I would! But not Jayball - "I'm sorry sweetie but Wednesday is the one night I can't make it. I have some friends from Santa Barbara coming to town. What about lunch Thursday?"

She says no initially; then she agrees; then he tells her no; then he offers up an alternative time. For a split second I thought he was going to lose it. But one thing I have learned in all the time I have been around him...living legends rarely lose it. "Thursday for lunch it is," she says, "Hears my number. It's now time for me to go back to work."

"Goddammit Jayball!" I tell him as we are walking to his car, "I thought you were going to blow it. She says no and then yes and then you say no and she says yes again...unbelievable!" What I view as mighty he sees as mundane - "Look, Jethro, it's not that big of deal. I could see by the way she was smiling when I asked that she was interested. She was just playing hard to get...that never works with me."

The village idiot of Las Vegas tells Jayball he will find out more about a gal who works at North Las Vegas city hall.

Jayball calls yesterday and before I can say hi, he says - "Jethro, I was down at North Las Vegas city hall again and I saw her," whenever he is minus a women in his life that's all I hear about. I ask him to clarify which her he is referring to (a number of attractive women work at city hall) - "You know who I am talking about," he says in a giddy tone - "The J.Lo lookalike...the one who works at the reception desk"

I don't understand him nowadays - he has the money, he has the look, he has the charm...he basically has it all. Why does he need me to act as his go between? I ask him such, he says -"She is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen Jethro. Most of the time I wouldn't need your help, but for some reason or another I get tongue tied when I see her. I know it is hard to believe - but even the best need help."

Jayball is a living legend in Las Vegas. I can't very well say no to a living legend - "Jayball, I will probably see her today. I will do my best to find out what her deal is," I then say sheepishly, "But, you know, it isn't that easy for me to talk to her about you. What if I wanted to ask her out myself? Did you ever think about that?"

Jayball is an asshole sometimes (he says he is just being real) -  "Okay Jethro, let's think about this for a minute. Let's say you ask her out and by some miracle she agrees. First of all you don't have any wheels. So what will you do? Pick her up on the bus," he lets out a roar of laughter and adds, "Furthermore, you are flat busted! Are you going to ask her to pay for dinner?" - he then lets out another roar of laughter - "Look, I'm not trying to be an asshole about it" he says between his giggling, "It's just that you need to be realistic about things. We both know you have no chance whatsoever with a women like that."

The village idiot of Las Vegas shares an idea with his councilman.

"You know what would be a really good idea councilman," last week I found myself setting in Councilman Barron's office (District 1 - North Las Vegas). I was describing to him what a plausible organic growth strategy could consist of  - "Councilman, what do you think of something like this?" - I then describe to him how beneficial it would prove if a large Latino crowd living in his district is somehow aggregated to a database  - I then add - "No one is paying any attention to the young Latino crowd, at least no one I can see. If someone is able to give them something they find useful - I am positive things will prove beneficial."

Councilman Barron asks - "I'm not following you. Explain it a little more to me," - the councilman is a native son of North Las Vegas. It is obvious he cares deeply about his district and all the constituents who call it home - I do my best to answer his question concisely - "Have you heard the Groupon story?" I ask, he says no - I say - "Groupon started as a call to action site, meaning it's original intention was not to make money - more community service oriented," I then add, "They had so many organic users," he interrupts and tells me to clarify what I mean by an organic user - "No problem," I tell him, "An organic user is someone who comes to your site or blog not because they want to buy a product or service, not in the beginning any way. They are there because you can provide them with something unique, or beneficial, or something they enjoy. Once they become accustom is when your best chance of monetizing occurs - Groupon had twenty thousand of them in the beginning. I feel strongly there are that many or more in North Las Vegas."

The councilman scratches his head after the statement and says - "I don't doubt that Hispanics could make a vital target market. It's just - how are you going to get them to pay attention? I'm not catching that part." I hit him with the reality show format I've been pushing for a while now - I then add - "I have been writing and blogging long enough. I am confident I will be able to produce enough script and non script material to make things interesting." We chat a little more about the weather and then he tells me he has another appointment scheduled in five minutes - I shake his hand, tell him I will chat with him again soon...and out the door I go.

The village idiot of Las Vegas agrees to a request from Roxy.

"Roxy, I love you more than anything in the whole world. I would give anything to be with you. I want you so bad." - I was professing my love to her yet again - this time it was in a room at Caesar's Palace last Friday - "Jethro, I don't know why I keep doing this. Girls like me cost a helluva of a lot more than you'll ever have. Any way, let's get it over with," she stands up from the bed and in one fluid motion strips to her bra and panties- "You have to do the rest dummy," she adds.

I drop to my knees in front of her and put my hands on her curvy waist. I then stare directly at her crotch and began laughing - "Yep, that about sums things up," I say. She was wearing a pair of white cotton panties and the word - Slut - was stitched in red letters across the crotch area. 

She was oblivious to the humor at first and then remembers she is wearing them - "Yeah - I agree Jethro... that sums me up," she then adds, "Any girl who would sleep with you has to be an absolute slut, or blind." I laugh at the slight and without further adieu grab her panties on each hip and roll them to her ankles - she steps out one foot at a time. 

After we finish she asks if I am going to put us being together in my blog again - "Babe, you know I am. Why do you ask?" - she says, "Jethro, I want you to put this in your blog. And I want you to say it just like this - verbatim...promise." I agree - she spurts - "The only reason I sleep with your fat, broke, lazy, stupid, worthless ass is simple. Your writing is a turn on for me. It gives me a sense of adventure that I don't get from normal guys."

The village idiot of Las Vegas kowtows to another of Roxy's requests.

"Jethro, call the China man and have him line out a room for me this weekend. I will be in town Friday around four - tell him I need it until Monday." No hello, no I miss you, no nothing - just get me a room boy...it was Roxy being Roxy.

Jayball says Roxy is selfish and I should put my foot down with her - so I tell her in a sheepish tone - "Jayball says you are using me and I should stop kowtowing to your every request," I then add, "Look, you were rude to me last time we talked and I want you to apologize. That's the only way I will get a room for you - I am waiting."

After my demand the line goes silent for a moment, she then says in a forceful tone - "Jethro, you had better have a room for me Friday. If I get to town and you don't have anything for me - you are going to be in a lot of trouble!" She then states that only people who are wrong apologize - "Is that clear enough for you to understand? Do you need to write it down? Room! Friday through Monday Jethro! Have it ready for me! One last thing dummy - your friend Jayball is the biggest dip shit in Las Vegas," she then hangs the phone up without saying bye.

The village idiot of Las Vegas calls his ex wife after hearing about a double homicide in North Las Vegas.

The peace in North Las Vegas was interrupted last night by a double homicide near Losse & Craig. Whenever I hear such news I immediately think of my ex wife and her road rage and the gun she kept in her glove box:

"Are you in town?" I ask. "No," she says - "Why do you ask? Did someone get shot again?" - Every time I call she acts like nothing is wrong...I'm not fooled! - I go on to inform her about the latest double homicide in North Las Vegas - her response - "Well, you know, shit happens." I demand to know her whereabouts last night, she says - "Topeka, Kansas," I then ask - "Do you have anyone who can serve as an alibi for you?" - she says, "Pepper {toy poodle}, but she can't talk." 

It's all fun and games to her, but I'm not laughing - "Listen," I tell her in a frantic tone, "An eyewitness said the shooter was a middle age lady driving an Explorer with a party color toy poodle setting in the passenger seat. It's not a coincidence anymore," I then take a deep breath and add, "Your description has been implicated in a number of unsolved homicides in North Las Vegas. I promise I won't rat you out. Just tell me it is you and I will leave it alone!"

She laughs after the implication and says - "I told you this already, but now I am going to repeat it very slowly - 'My last day with the State of Kansas is June 3rd. I will not be anywhere near North Las Vegas until then. I can guarantee you one thing, whomever it is playing cowboy in the NLV? Well, it isn't me...not yet any way," she then hangs the phone up without saying bye. 

The village idiot of Las Vegas promises Jayball he will find out more about a gal who works at city hall.

"Just wasn't working out Jethro...you know how shit goes," turns out Jayball and his stripper girlfriend of the last six months decided to split the sheets. Now that he is single again - women of Las Vegas - watch out!

"Jethro, I was down at North Las Vegas city hall the other day and saw the most attractive lady," whenever Jayball is without a gal - which is very minimal - I tend to hear about it nonstop. A few weeks ago I told him about all the women who work at city hall. I figured he was too busy to pay it any mind, once again, I figured wrong - "She had the most beautiful body I have ever seen, her figure was hour glass, her eyes were dark green," he then takes a deep breath and adds, "I told you how much I like girls with green eyes Jethro." - Jayball has certain specifications that he likes to see in women - nowadays he is into the exotic look with mocha skin. But honestly, it is impossible to keep track...he's been with so many.

"Jethro, you are going to find out who that girl is for me - okay?" - Jayball is a living legend in Las Vegas. I can't tell a tell a living legend no, so I ask - "Tell me a little bit more about her," he says, "She was wearing a black skirt and white blouse," he then proclaims,  "It was love at first site - I just want you to find out who she is and tell her that I want to take her out. That's all you have to do Jethro...I will owe you one."

I tell him I am pretty sure he is describing Maggie - she works on one of the upper floors at city hall - I reassure him that I am on the job - I then ask what else he has been doing - "Nothing brother, just getting my crib back to the old bachelor ways," he then hangs the phone up without saying bye.

The village idiot of Las Vegas gets asked about a J. Lo lookalike at North Las Vegas city hall.

Jayball called me the other day and before I could even say hello - he says: "Jethro - I walked into city hall a few weeks ago and the very first thing I see is the most beautiful women I have ever laid eyes on setting at the receptionist desk - she was absolutely stunning." I knew right away whom he was referring to - "That's Gwendolyn," I tell him. He then says, "I was looking for the place to pay my friends water bill so I walk up to her and ask." - Watch out women of Las Vegas - whenever Jayball sees a women he is attracted to...that's all I hear about.

He then adds - "I have to tell you something Jethro, my eyes nearly popped out my of head - she had the most beautiful brown eyes...and her smile, oh goodness. It was breathtaking...Jethro, you have to find out what her story is. I can't get her off my mind." - Jayball is a living legend in Las Vegas. I have seen him with a countless number of beautiful women, very seldom do I hear him go on about a girl like this...I think she put a spell on him.

I thought he was going to give it a rest for a minute - I thought wrong -"You want to know something else Jethro?" - he then adds, "I mean this sincerely. I thought I was talking to Jennifer Lopez in the flesh. She was so gorgeous!" - He tells me for the fourth time - "You have to find out what her story is for me!" It is hard to say no to a living legend so I agree to find out what I can - I then say - "Jayball, you know how I get tongue tied around beautiful women. I'm not very good at things like this. I don't want to look like a fool. What should I say to her?"

Jayball is never without an answer - "Jethro - this is all you have to tell her, 'A buddy of yours saw her a few weeks ago and he was wondering if she would be interested in meeting up for some sushi and drinks. Ask her if she has a friend to bring along and that way there will be four of us. Come on Jethro - I will owe you one!"