Hello readers,

It's been awhile since I've written.  When we last parted ways, Japan was fine, Gadhafi was adorable and Charlie Sheen was melting down.  Since that time a lot has changed.  I was in San Fran and now I'm in Los Angeles.  In between, I stayed in a hotel called Circus Circus.  It's where families go to die.  The lobby of the hotel looks like a cross between an airport, a deportation center, and the darkest nightmares in our collective brains.  They have installed a camera into the wall of the hotel (see below) that allows patrons to take photos of their muggings/rapes.  

I cannot express the sadness one feels after staying in Circus Circus.  I was waiting in line behind a family that can only be defined as a real-life version of the Klumps only with less tact.  They arrived at 9AM and had attempted to check in.  When told that check-in wasn't until 3PM, the mother Klump said, "That's fine!  I'm just happy to be in a building."  If I weren't surrounded by 1,000s of kids wetting themselves and me, I would have reflected on the sadness in a statement like that.  Instead, I ran to the elevators to escape the pandemonium. (see below).

(People remarked on how strange it was for the hotel to have a 13th floor. 
I reminded them that the entire hotel was bad luck, not just that floor. 
Their chances of being stabbed remained the same.)

I played two shows in Vegas -- one at the Riviera and the other at the Golden Nugget. One of the aspects of comedy that people rarely get a chance to see is what happens when you talk to the comics who give you time.  The host of the Riviera show took me aside and asked me softball questions like, "How long have you been doing comedy?" or "Where are you from?" before launching into a warning hidden in friendly language.

The guy put his arm around me and said, "Hey, Just so you know.  This is Vegas, not Boston.  So your Boston jokes won't play here. Okay?"

Then, the guy went on stage and did impressions of Buddy Hackett and Andrew Dice.  All they wanted to do was talk about rape.  He asked for requests.  Someone yelled about President Hu and he started yelling at the crowd.

After my set, he came up to me and said, "Hey, I really warmed them up for you.  Enjoy it."  I later saw that same guy in a pizzeria at Circus Circus -- he was sending back his pepperoni pizza because it had too much cheese on it.  He was sitting next to a blended family (black father, son and daughter; white mother and daughter) that was constantly bickering until the father stood up and yelled, "Stop it!  Can't we just have a nice dinner?!  Look where we are!"  It was like a sadder Clark Griswald.

The next show was at the Golden Nugget.  I had 15 minutes in front of a crowd that was there to see Country All-Stars.  Basically, you plunk down $40 and you get to see people dressed up like Reba McIntyre sing their hits.  Weird, but the booker and crew were cool; they treated us like kings.

The crowd, though, was 50 and over.  The worst aspect of the ppt stand-up is that there's no room for changing gears.  If they crowd is not into something, I have to push through the slides and we all sink together.  I did a joke and heard gasps from the crowd.  I knew it was going to be a long set. I got them back but there were times when I longed for the good times that awaited me in the lobby of Circus Circus.  At that point, I, too, would be happy to be in a building.