Showing posts with label Las Vegas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Las Vegas. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Vegas, Baby


Remember all those whacked out Dungeons and Dragons dudes who used to beat you up in high school?

Well, those harmless little cuties went on to college, where they graduated to fighting each other with cardboard swords covered in tinfoil on the Quad. After college, the mighty diehards among them carried the torch all the way to Ye Olde Renaissance Faire.

Those few, fortunate rogues chosen by the very Gods above, who eventually found these hilarious affairs tortuously tame, advanced further still, to the penultimate step--killing people with "a medieval-style battle ax."

Viz:

LAS VEGAS — Sonia Lisset Castro said she pleaded for her life and that of her baby but the stranger attacking them with a medieval-style battle ax on a residential street only mocked her and kept hacking.

"I was saying in English, 'Please, please leave me alone!' But he wouldn't listen to me," Castro testified through tears and a Spanish translator Monday about the Feb. 11 attack that left her 4-month-old son, Damien, dead.

"Every time he would hit me, he would laugh out loud," she said. "I was begging him to let me go, and he was mocking me."

Castro peeled back a gauzy white scarf to show a Las Vegas judge the scars on the right side of her head where surgeons reattached her face and jaw. She said her right eye was irreparably damaged.

Montague is facing one charge of murder with a deadly weapon and three charges of attempted murder with a deadly weapon.

He is accused of stabbing his profoundly disabled sister-in-law at least 20 times in their home, then bursting outside and randomly attacking Castro as she walked past on the street with her son in a stroller. His sister-in-law, 36-year-old Monica O'Dazier, was treated at a hospital and released.

Montague told police he had no memory of the attacks, and defense lawyer Norm Reed has characterized his client as delusional and paranoid. But neither Reed nor defense lawyer Andrea Luem has sought to have Montague declared mentally unfit for trial.

A neighbor who dialed 911 as she witnessed the attack from her home also identified Montague as the assailant. Teresa Garner testified Monday that after Montague ran back inside his home, she went to Castro's aid near the curb and the overturned stroller.

"I saw the baby lying in the street, dead," sobbed Garner, a 52-year-old disabled former hotel worker. "I saw the mother, her face was completely gone ... bleeding profusely."

Garner said she later suffered an emotional breakdown and spent seven days in psychiatric care. She said she continues to take several prescription anti-anxiety medications daily. After appearing to fall asleep for a few moments during questioning by Luem, she said the medications make her drowsy.

On the 911 call, which was played for the judge, Garner is heard shrieking, "Oh my God! Her face is split open where he hit her with the hatchet!"

Police have said the ax had been hanging on a wall in Montague's home before he used it in the attack.

Montague's wife, Erricca Montague, testified that Harold Montague spent several sleepless nights pacing the floor, wasn't eating well, and appeared dehydrated the day of the attack.

Harold Montague had served since 2004 as the primary caregiver for O'Dazier, who Erricca Montague said has cerebral palsy and mental retardation, suffers seizures and can walk only a few steps with assistance.

Under questioning by Luem, Erricca Montague said her husband has smoked pot but never took other drugs or drank alcohol. She testified she didn't feel her husband was a danger to her, their three children or her disabled sister.

(courtesy Huffington Post)

One would hope that had fair young Harold realized the final step was 'execution by obese former high-school football players poured into correctional-facility uniforms' he would have humbly duct-taped his weapon back onto the otherwise-blank wall above his Playstation/masturbation chair and played with something for a while instead.

Even if it could have been colored as cowardice, it would have been a much more fruitful way to take his mind off how dreadfully boring his life is these days (ie, every day since he was born).

But we all know those guys were never actually very smart, so, you know, here we are...sitting in a chair somewhere, wishing his mother would have had an abortion all those years ago...

_

Friday, January 15, 2010

Magic...at the speed of McDonald's!


Since we all know a magician never tells his secrets--lest he be cast out of The Alliance and universally shunned--I guess it's up to me to spoil a couple for ya.

But first, a little backstory...

Years ago, I spent almost an entire month in Las Vegas, living at the Mandalay Bay Resort and working a huge conference for McDonald's. There were so many restaurant managers coming to town for it they had to be divided into East Coast, Central States, and West Coast (+Australia) sections, and after a week of set-up and rehearsals, we had to repeat the same 3-day conference three times (Wed-Fri, Wed-Fri, Wed-Fri).


One of the entertainers involved in the show was noted Las Vegas magician Rick Thomas. Here is the sell on Mr. Thomas, courtesy of The Sahara's website:
Witness the most intriguing and innovative grand illusions in the world with a style unlike any other magical entertainer. Rick Thomas' show is unmatched as he weaves magic, music, dance and exotic animals into a seamless spectacle. Crowned Stage Magician of the Year at the World Magic Awards, Thomas is described as a triumph of personality and presentation. Majestic is the word that best describes the Bengal Tigers in Rick Thomas' Production. Rick's passion for the wild is demonstrated throughout the wonderful effects in which these animals appear...and vanish! Without doubt, the tiger is one of the most beautiful, regal and intriguing animals in the world. It is magic within itself to be working with these fabulous cats and Rick Thomas is one of the privileged few. Experience this premiere (sic) show at a magical price. This show is a riveting visual delight! An extraordinary Las Vegas entertainment value.
Aside from the atrocious writing, he sounds pretty impressive, eh? Well, let me tell you, from a behind-the-scenes perspective, he was nothing short of laughable.

Each week, his crew required that we provide them with a forklift, a roll of black cloth, and two identical motorcycles. I was curious, so I paid particular attention as to how these would be used.


The forklift was draped in black cloth and used to make Rick Thomas' assistant levitate. That's the secret behind the levitation trick--sorry, illusion--a forklift covered in black cloth, lit just right. That's it. The forklift goes up, a hand is waved above and below her and people clap; it comes down, Mr. Thomas steps onto the forklift, and then he magically levitates them both at the same time!

Yeah. Wow. Hard.

His big trick was even funnier. The rubes in the audience watched Rick Thomas dance around onstage like Gob Bluth at his worst, drive a Harley into a large cage, levitate the cage, cover it with a magic black cloth, and then...the cloth dropped and the cage was empty! Then Mr. Thomas suddenly appeared in the back of the room! Riding the motorcycle!

In reality, the second motorcycle was conspicuously hidden beneath a black cloth by the rear doors the entire time and, during the stupid 'dancing' segment, a helmeted Rick Thomas slyly spun out behind a curtain and was immediately replaced by a totally-different-looking-in-every-way-imaginable 'body double' in matching leather jacket and helmet.

Mr. Thomas then ran through the access hallways around the enormous ballroom, climbed onto the second motorcycle, revved it repeatedly, turned on the headlight, and NOBODY NOTICED until a camera revealed him riding down the aisle from the back of the room.

During the first week's performance, he ran up onstage, victorious, and uttered the following line between frenzied gasps for air:
"Magic...at...the...speed...of McDonald's!"
When it came time for his show during the second and third weeks, we had to supply a golf cart and driver, so that Mr. Thomas could be rocketed down the long access corridor in style. Oddly, he was still out of breath whenever he got to the stage and delivered the same stupid line...


So, the next time you wonder how those magicians do it, stop thinking it's something super complicated--apparently, an audience is so easily duped all you need is another person in the same clothes, a second motorcycle, a forklift, crafty lighting, and some black cloth.

A goddamn hocus-pocus travesty...unlike this, which is hilarious and somewhat related:



_

Friday, August 7, 2009

If Only Nora Ephron Was Gay


And for some reason followed 24/7 by a vigilant camera crew--I would have loved to watch footage of her hitting on her own sister in a Las Vegas mall.

While I'm wishing for things, can we also eliminate Michael, You've Got Mail, and Bewitched from the cinematic consciousness?

Thank you, Jeebus.

_

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

We Regret to Inform You There WILL Be Redundancies...


How much longer until the phrase 'disgraced Republican' becomes redundant?

Sen. John Ensign (R-NV)--a conservative Christian--not only recently admitted taking a mistress, but also that his rich casino-mogul dad paid $96,000 to help her and her family through "a difficult time."

To add insult to injury, the mistress was not only a former coworker, but a family friend. So was her husband. So, presumably, were their two innocent children.

You might remember Sen. Ensign (Hypocrite-NV) from his public outrage at Clinton's infidelities. Hmmm...well-done all around, Super Prick!

_

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Mamma Mia!


Gotta love it when a professionally-designed (and heinously ugly) poster for a multi-million-dollar movie* misspells an actress' name.

I didn't have to check imdb.com to see that her name really is ChriStine Baranski.
But I did.
And it is.

And she's scary looking, by the way.
And needs a new P.R. rep...

In other news, Mamma Mia--despite its inherent shittiness--will always have a special place in my heart.

Why? Because when I lived (for a month) at the Mandalay Bay Resort & Casino in beautiful Las Vegas, Nevada, I used to wake up every morning to the pungent smell of burning tobacco and the equally-pungent tunes of the promo for the Mamma Mia musical.

As if being hungover, underslept, and living in Vegas wasn't enough to make me want to jump out the window already...

The musical--based on, and incorporating, the tunes of ABBA, if you can believe it--was playing in a dedicated theater within the hotel and, therefore, one channel on our TV was devoted entirely to playing a promo for it in a continuous, unending, eternal, infinite loop.

My roommate would watch this channel for hours on end, seeing how long he could stand it; his tolerance was at the same time impressive and criminal.

And so, to Chainsaw Chuck Morton in Chicago--I know you been waitin' for this joint to drop for a long minute now, my man. Here you go--eat it up. You don't even wanna know the strings I had to pull to get this milk dud made...



*Believe it or not, this movie somehow cost $65 million to make, according to several websites I checked, including this one. Wow. Were the crew's water bottles made of solid gold?

_

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Las Vegas, T.I. pool


It's about 140 degrees by the pool right now. But it somehow feels good, soothing, cleansing. I like it. The imminent dive into the water will be equally and oppositely enjoyed. The Yin & Yang of a desert oasis. A vodka lemonade on ice could save my life right now.

It did. And now I'm thirsting for another. Isn't that always how it goes?

I wonder if the management at T.I. chose the sickly-tangerine color of their towels as a precaution against theft, or if they're just stupid. Either way, as I scan the watering hole to soak it all in, locate beautiful girls in bikinis, etc, I can't help but feel it's the late '60s, early '70s--something about those tangerine blotches permeating the view, as well as the vague '60s vibe the mere idea of Vegas conjures in my head. The brazen excess of Baby Boomer America, the 'desert air' health theories that prompted locust-like migration to the Sun Belt, and the tolerated corporate crookery, nee Mafia crookery, that lords over the city as a hurricane lords over its volatile eye. But I like the '60s. Well, the idea of the '60s, music and other products of the '60s, etc, seeing as I wasn't even a twinkle in the universe's eye when the decade drew to a close.

Bill and I are supposed to start work on a treatment for a movie we want to write, so of course we got high and lazy and distracted and soon-to-be-drunk. We'll see what materializes when he gets back from his expedition to retrieve magazines and cigarettes from our room. Not promising.

I just got a yard of vodka lemonade because Bill asked for 'big ones.' My mouth might be permanently puckered after today. I also might be as red as a lobster. I might never leave. I could look for lounge-singer openings down on Fremont Street. That'd be the life. "I sing at the Lucky Leprechaun, Tuesday and Wednesdays, from 11am to 1pm. Kill me!"

Our waitress' skin reminds me achingly of caramel. Bill's buying two Fosters Oilcans right now, to have two chances at winning a cabana full of Fosters tomorrow. I guess it'd be cool if we win, and it's not like we can lose.

Speaking of, I lost $80 at roulette last night. That usually doesn't happen. Tonight better be...better.

(From the Vault---6/2/07)