ooh, Las Vegas, ain’t no place for a poor boy like me
ooh, Las Vegas, ain’t no place for a poor boy like me
every time I hit your crystal city
you know you’re gonna make a wreck out of me
well, the first time I lose I drink whiskey
second time I lose I drink gin
third time I lose I drink anything
’cause I think I’m gonna win
-G. Parsons

Well the spirited and traffic-stopping mrs tbogg and I are off to Las Vegas tomorrow to partake of it’s many vices with the exception of gambling (because we don’t) and drinking (because I don’t) so, when you really get down to it, Las Vegas is kind of wasted on me. But they’ve got sun and general debauchery which counts for a lot in my book. This will be the first time that the two of us have been to Las Vegas together in twenty-three years of marriage that didn’t include a soccer tournament and the early bedtimes and strict schedules that those entail. Woo-hoo, the sweet freedom of adulthood.

Except that I will also be attending YearlyKos with all of the other unhinged-America-hating-moonbats where we plot the overthrow of the established fundoreligiopatriarchalhegemony or, if not that, we’ll try to boot out a few apostates who suddenly stand up at dinner and whinge about how the party has left them while retreating under a hail of lightly-warmed sourdough rolls. Later well-meaning Birkenstocked progressives will be seen trying to explain to pit bosses that, in a truly equal America, everyone should be a winner. Security will then be alerted.

I will, of course, be blogging from there as the mood dictates, just don’t expect any expert analysis. Not that you would, considering the source.

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Yeah. Like I would tell you....