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On Las Vegas

This town is engineered by greed and psychology. The confusing, smoky and temperature-controlled rooms are entwined with mesmerizing sounds that have arms. Arms you cannot see but if you get close enough, encircle and infiltrate your head and whisper sweet but empty promises in that tiniest part of your brain known as "hope." While "hope" is being fondled and caressed, your back pocket is getting raped. Another arm magically presents something cool and refreshing to numb your nerves. Dizzying lights in front of you cast a spell, giving "hope" one defenseless blow after another.

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Every human weakness, insecurity and pitiful self-indulgent behavior is not only welcome, but exploited and celebrated in this completely artificial, land of make-believe desert town. It's a place where many a man have lost more than their bank accounts. Once you have lost your soul and dignity, the only one left to care about your money is the owner of the next energy-wasting hotel with a parking lot as large as the polar ice cap it will eventually melt.