Dateline: a dark and lonely room — with dirty clothing strewn about like so much feces in the monkey house — somewhere in the maw of Las Vegas. So, here’s the three-day gambling tally: I have put up $150, and $119 of it has returned to me like a demented cocker spaniel. Tonight, my final night out here in the land of Japanese tourists and tanned porn notables, I will defiantly put up $200, as if announcing to the city that I’m hankering for a rectal exam. Stay tuned for the results.


I had a box of Kellogg’s Raisin Bran for breakfast and I shall now cry foul. Its promise of “two scoops!” is a baldface lie, unless the scoop they’re using equates to 0.875 of mine. I only got 1.75 scoops of raisins. I’ll sue.