Just drove in to Las Vegas, and, boy R my wheels tired!

{rimshot}

It's good to be here at the Hopi Room of the Oxnard Hotel and Casino. Using my 2000 series NASA endorsed spyscope to check out the wax jobs on the bikini-clad babes lounging around the pool is a much more reliable form of self abuse than it is home at my apartment in Seattle. Yes. I used to live in Albuquergue. But, dammit, TQR is Washington-based, and I don't want to be too far from the office when the shit hits, you know my fellows?

I wonder what the troops are doing, by the by? Has the Terminal finally heated up to a nice red hot condition? Who is being chewed up and spitted out: H3K or the Bull? My money's on the machine, if you must know. It's intellect is sharper than the horn, or brute force, that is, any day. But, I could be wrong. Well, I've got to run. There is a Keno tournament in half an hour and I've got to get there early to reserve my seat, get my complimentary fruit cocktail. Let me just sidle over here to the window for one last perusal. ... Ahh, yes, darling, you could be mine, were it not for the patch of red pubic hair sneaking down your inner thigh. A shame. It is. A quick shower, and I'll be set.