A weekend in Vegas Q: You wanna know what the most interesting thing about the month of February is? A: Absolutely nothing. OK, sure, the Aquarian/Pisces firmament is bejeweled with such dazzlers as Valentine’s Day, Groundhog Day, Presidents Day, Chinese New Year’s, Ayn Rand Day and, of course, who among us could possibly forget National Baked Alaska Day?
Oh, man, how the revelry has petered out. Unless one can afford to jet down to Rio for Carnivale, there ain’t nothin’ left worth upchucking against a sodium lamppost for, unless one wants to count piss-poor Mardi Gras faking its usual February maleficence as frolicsome fun.
Face it, fellas: Winter’s gone weary; spring hasn’t sprung. Our New Year’s resolutions are now about as pure as yesterday’s driven slush, and, with prissy, puritanical Lent suddenly looming monolithically before us, just what’s there left to do except dress up like steampunk freaks and toss good money at bad.
Indeed, cherished readers, boredom can be quite expensive! Case in point: Dear Howard here just returned from a world-class, weekend losing streak in Las Vegas.