Californication:The STD To Kill Nevada
(from the September 20th, 2007 edition of the Las Vegas Penny Press)
Dear Fred:
I know you expect these well thought out opinion pieces from me to fill
some space in your paper each week. Well, this week it’s a little hard.
Sadly, I’m truly sick of Las Vegas.
Well, scratch that. I’m not sick of the city. There’s still a big part of me
that likes the “feel” of being in this city. A couple of winters ago I spent
a weekend in one of the old Vintage Queen rooms down at the El Cortez.
It was a trip. When I came down the winding staircase from those second
floor rooms and into the casino I kept expecting to see Dan Dailey and
Ginger Rogers at the tables.
No, it’s not the town I’ve come to hate. It’s the people.
Las Vegas seems to be a sicko magnet. For all the nice people I’ve
met here, I’ve met a dozen people that I wouldn’t spit on if they were on
fire. [The preceding line was sanitized for your protection.] I’ve had more
people con me, scam me, deceive me, play me, and totally rip me off in the
eight years I’ve lived here than the rest of my 52 years combined!
It seems like everyone that I talk to wants to be somewhere else. The
town isn’t good enough for them. They all have attitudes. They can’t smile,
they can’t be happy.
Monday Morning I had to go up to Bubba Brown’s school for the first
day of his school year. I know, everyone else started school two weeks ago.
He’s on a track that starts late. Parents usually are all happy to see each
other, to say hi and friendly. They seem to be so clannish here, almost like
being in high school again. Afterwards, I rode my bike to the post office
with the intent of being very friendly and smiling at everyone. Of the 30
people I saw, only six answered me when I said “Good Morning”. The rest
looked at me with expressions that screamed, “Go shoot yourself.” [The
preceding line was sanitized for your protection.]
And the panhandlers.
I wouldn’t be this upset except I see the same ones trying to get change
for food in the Flamingo Wash drinking beer and smoking cigarettes and
doing God knows whatever else.
See, I know that this town is a melting pot. I know that people come
here from all over the nation − and the world − to work and play here.
I use to have issues with the tourists.
Not anymore.
The people that live here are far and away much more annoying.
They want Las Vegas to be “just like home”. It’s too hot, it’s not family
friendly enough, it’s too open, it’s too much like the Wild West.
Then go home! Oh, that’s right. There aren’t any good jobs there, are
there? That’s why you came here.
So go ahead, kill the economy here with the same over-regulated, overbuilt,
over-priced, business-unfriendly environment that California is in.
Kill the golden goose.
And enjoy your recession.
I suspect that by 2008, Fred, I’ll be heading back to a smaller town in
Northern Nevada. Someplace where you can feel a lot safer being out at 11
o’clock at night anywhere in town.
Someplace where there’s less concern about “Rights”, and more concern
about “Responsibility”...
Someplace where a family of four making $50,000 a year can afford
more than a crackerbox apartment; where real houses with real yards aren’t
a quarter of a million dollars.
If it was just me, Fred, I’d stay. The glitz, the glamour, the atmosphere,
it still appeals to me. But it’s not just me. Between Bubba Brown, his mom,
and our forthcoming new arrival, it’s just not right.
We’ve lived in small towns before. We understand the dynamic of living
there for 30 years and still being the “new” people in town. We can live
with that.
Living with the negative vibes that the people that I keep encountering,
I can’t live with.
There’s something that an old friend of ours once said, Fred. Lee Pete
told me shortly after I arrived that I would have enjoyed this town, but I
“missed” it. I keep thinking that he’s right.
Moving outstate has a lot of the appeal of old Vegas. Sure, I’ll have to
drive to Reno or Vegas for any shows, but there are plenty of casinos and
gaming to keep me busy, I hear the food’s really good. Plus there’s something
up north that we don’t have here. Something not permitted in this
county. I doubt that Dolly Parton’s running any of them, though... [The
preceding line was sanitized for your protection.]
Thanks for the catharsis, Fred. I figured if anyone would understand,
you would.
So what are you going to run in my column space this week?
WYATT COX
A rambling catharsis by Wyatt is better than any diatribe from your usual
liberal poltroon. You can read more at rant.wyattcox.net
Dear Fred:
I know you expect these well thought out opinion pieces from me to fill
some space in your paper each week. Well, this week it’s a little hard.
Sadly, I’m truly sick of Las Vegas.
Well, scratch that. I’m not sick of the city. There’s still a big part of me
that likes the “feel” of being in this city. A couple of winters ago I spent
a weekend in one of the old Vintage Queen rooms down at the El Cortez.
It was a trip. When I came down the winding staircase from those second
floor rooms and into the casino I kept expecting to see Dan Dailey and
Ginger Rogers at the tables.
No, it’s not the town I’ve come to hate. It’s the people.
Las Vegas seems to be a sicko magnet. For all the nice people I’ve
met here, I’ve met a dozen people that I wouldn’t spit on if they were on
fire. [The preceding line was sanitized for your protection.] I’ve had more
people con me, scam me, deceive me, play me, and totally rip me off in the
eight years I’ve lived here than the rest of my 52 years combined!
It seems like everyone that I talk to wants to be somewhere else. The
town isn’t good enough for them. They all have attitudes. They can’t smile,
they can’t be happy.
Monday Morning I had to go up to Bubba Brown’s school for the first
day of his school year. I know, everyone else started school two weeks ago.
He’s on a track that starts late. Parents usually are all happy to see each
other, to say hi and friendly. They seem to be so clannish here, almost like
being in high school again. Afterwards, I rode my bike to the post office
with the intent of being very friendly and smiling at everyone. Of the 30
people I saw, only six answered me when I said “Good Morning”. The rest
looked at me with expressions that screamed, “Go shoot yourself.” [The
preceding line was sanitized for your protection.]
And the panhandlers.
I wouldn’t be this upset except I see the same ones trying to get change
for food in the Flamingo Wash drinking beer and smoking cigarettes and
doing God knows whatever else.
See, I know that this town is a melting pot. I know that people come
here from all over the nation − and the world − to work and play here.
I use to have issues with the tourists.
Not anymore.
The people that live here are far and away much more annoying.
They want Las Vegas to be “just like home”. It’s too hot, it’s not family
friendly enough, it’s too open, it’s too much like the Wild West.
Then go home! Oh, that’s right. There aren’t any good jobs there, are
there? That’s why you came here.
So go ahead, kill the economy here with the same over-regulated, overbuilt,
over-priced, business-unfriendly environment that California is in.
Kill the golden goose.
And enjoy your recession.
I suspect that by 2008, Fred, I’ll be heading back to a smaller town in
Northern Nevada. Someplace where you can feel a lot safer being out at 11
o’clock at night anywhere in town.
Someplace where there’s less concern about “Rights”, and more concern
about “Responsibility”...
Someplace where a family of four making $50,000 a year can afford
more than a crackerbox apartment; where real houses with real yards aren’t
a quarter of a million dollars.
If it was just me, Fred, I’d stay. The glitz, the glamour, the atmosphere,
it still appeals to me. But it’s not just me. Between Bubba Brown, his mom,
and our forthcoming new arrival, it’s just not right.
We’ve lived in small towns before. We understand the dynamic of living
there for 30 years and still being the “new” people in town. We can live
with that.
Living with the negative vibes that the people that I keep encountering,
I can’t live with.
There’s something that an old friend of ours once said, Fred. Lee Pete
told me shortly after I arrived that I would have enjoyed this town, but I
“missed” it. I keep thinking that he’s right.
Moving outstate has a lot of the appeal of old Vegas. Sure, I’ll have to
drive to Reno or Vegas for any shows, but there are plenty of casinos and
gaming to keep me busy, I hear the food’s really good. Plus there’s something
up north that we don’t have here. Something not permitted in this
county. I doubt that Dolly Parton’s running any of them, though... [The
preceding line was sanitized for your protection.]
Thanks for the catharsis, Fred. I figured if anyone would understand,
you would.
So what are you going to run in my column space this week?
WYATT COX
A rambling catharsis by Wyatt is better than any diatribe from your usual
liberal poltroon. You can read more at rant.wyattcox.net
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