Two weekends in Vegas in a row.  By row, I mean back-to-back,  I am not fighting with anyone, though on the second weekend I shared a room with Brad M, otherwise known as M-Sweet, who I  usually butt heads with.    “Two Hens in a Cockhouse” was how Rich put it, rather cannily.   Rich also said the was going to respond to my comments about his anti-drug stance, but he didn’t. Perhaps, I figure, because he is a man of limited articulation?   It's not like he'd even have to punctuate worth a damn, on these pages, but we’ll just assume that, until proven otherwise.  The topic came up again over dinner at Bobby Flays somewhat disappointing restaurant, Mesa, in Caesar’s palace.    Everything was good, but Southwestern influenced food isn’t served well by such spare presentation.  That’s the main issue, I think.

M-Sweet and I got along fine, in fact that second weekend went well from top to bottom.  A mild Bachelor Party, to be sure, but the party fractured each night  by  2 am, with  splinters mostly finding their way to bed. I spent the wee hours prowling around, living off strip views, obscure drink orders, and sleep deprivation.   Saturday night I ended up in a booth at a After Hours club called the Forty Duece with the proprietor, and a girl he was hitting on, whose fiancé was about to unexpectedly come calling.   The bouncer, who looked like Ving Rhames at 9/10^th scale,  watched everything unfold.  I couldn’t guarantee that I wouldn’t be the first person thrown out, on account of I didn’t have boobs and was otherwise unaffiliated.  I excused myself to go talk about the Pride fights with the Restroom Valet, and a guy I met in the steam room earlier in the evening.    Dude, it’s Vegas.

The previous weekend went well too. The wedding, without a hitch.  I didn’t go out at all then, looking forward to having breakfast with the Nieces every morning instead.   Thanksgiving is at Gina and Brian’s this year, which is something else to look forward too.

Finally, I should add that my first game of Ice Hockey went splendidly. The improvement I demonstrated with each successive line change was inspirational.  You ask  how can someone improve so much and still end up such an artist of suck?  Well, consider that I spend most of my second turn standing in front of my own goal trying to put my glove back on. I looked just like that guy in Saving Private Ryan, who was walking around the beachhead holding his own arm.   And that was an improvement over my first turn. So, you see, there is plenty of room for improvement.

So I picked up a copy of Stomp and Stammer and one of the letters to the editor complained about the increased age  and homogenization of the crowds at recent cracker concerts.

Seeing this letter hit me as if I had stumbled across the obituary of a long lost lover.   

Sure, I was first to drop out of the “I’m a bigger Cracker Fan than You” contest that Dave and Alex and I  had engaged in over the years, but on the other hand, I still sneak in a little drunken Cracker-soul-rocker into a playlist now and then.

Two things happened to them that explain their predicament, first, as StompAndStammer noted, they got old.  Second, their last Album Forever was bad.  It wasn’t horrible-cracker would never be that- but it was uninspired.  

I should say one more thing about that ‘getting old’ thing. One of the big criticisms of Cracker was that the were so ironic.  It’s a criticism that is hard to deflect, since arguing that ‘they do it on purpose’ doesn’t really work for Irony (It’s the self-awareness that makes Irony the pest that it is).  No, the best defense of the Irony Attack is that their concerts burned through the Irony like nose grease through beer-head.      Unfortunately, as they got older, those pure-rock moments got rarer and rarer.     The mosh pit was replaced with Polka circles far too often, and right on queue, they started touring with Camper Again. 

But the Stomp and Stammer guy said that their New Album, GreenLand,  is their best ever, so I just bought it and am listening as I type. Because I am a bigger fan than you.

I’m staying in a great hotel this week, you can drive right up to the front door!

But it’s Caesar’s this weekend.  I suspect I won’t have much in the way of pool time though, what with all the wedding festivities.

The Broncos look weak on Offense,  but I think they are going to turn that corner.   The fact that they moved the ball in the 4^th against Baltimore is a great sign, since never move well against Baltimore.   More importantly, no balls were batted down.   That is a terrific indicator of Bronco Health.      But the most important indicator is the development of the in-stride long ball.  Granted, Plummer didn’t hit anybody with it, but the simple fact that he is throwing that pass, bodes good things for Denver.  In the pass all deep balls were looping bombs that recievers would have to track down.  

I think Javon Walker  is going to make a big difference.

Our Defense looks stellar.  It appears to be outperforming its mediocre  DVOA (footballoutsiders.com) , but we shall see.     It looks to me like Coyer, our Defensive Coordinator,  agrees with  TMQ, and decided that Blitzing is passé.    I love it. In the past, if we didn’t get t the QB in under a second, we were going to get burned. Now it ends up with the ball being thrown out of bounds.

Which isn’t to say that Peyton won’t tear us apart again.

The thing about Denver is that we can be beaten by any team that has an extraordinary players.   We will beat ‘better’ teams, and we will beat inferior teams. But if you have a team based around one extraordinary feature, you can beat us.  Baltimore had Ray Lewis. The Colts have Manning.    The Patriots are complete team, and consequently lose to us because Denver handles balance extraordinarily well.  

So I was driving home during the fourth quarter of the rapidly spiraling UGA Game when Gregory called and convinced me to go, as-is, to a posh end-of-summer party up in the Sandy-Chastain area. 

The theme was “the Death of Summer” so everyone was supposed to wear black. I was wearing  the jeans and v-neck undershirt I had been wearing since 8 am.  The crowd was gathered around back, poolside, dancing to come-on-Eileen.  I found Gregory and borrowed his sportcoat,  transforming myself from Underwared  ruffian to ubiquitous jeans and wool-blazer guy, then found a corner to hide in.

I tried the trusted “I like what they have done with Garage” line on a couple of ladies who were sharing my corner, but they took it way too literally. We were, apparently in what once was a garage.  Just my luck. Then some guy interrupted our conversation asking the whereabouts of his tall and rich friend, who was with two nineteen year old girls.  Me and the  other wallflowers pointed south with quiet confidence, but Mike,  tripped up by our certainty,  pressed forward with his approach  telling us about all the places he had been (“You all ready said, New York”, I mumbled into my beer can).   When we finally overcame NY Mike's conversation, I needed a nap and  another drink, so I left the corner for wetter pastures.

Shortly after that the lid of the large beer cooler lifted one of the 19 year olds' skirts as I lifted it.  Entirely unintentional, that, though if I had to argue the alternative, I would protest that she did in fact look a lot  like Maryln Monroe.  Alas, since I had been looking beerward at the time I saw nothing.  I didn't even know what I had done until it got a quiet and I lookup up to see people alternating glances between me and her.  So now I had to chat it up with Mike and his entourage, in an attempt to de-perv myself.   This at least got Greg and Jessica off my back: Jessica was pestering me to hit on some people.  Greg  wanted me to talk to a tall Russian woman that he found attractive and  Jessica had taken to accosting any women I happened to glance at. If my gaze lingered at all, she would walk up and introduce herself, and then try to introduce me.   She did this to women who were  mid-conversation with other guys.    I started yearning for sunglasses,  to foil her plots and to further complete the black sport-coat look I had going on.   

Gregory and Jessica left soon after, taking his coat with them.  The Wallflowers commended my wardrobe improvement.  Friends of Mike called me names for wanting to leave early. The 19 years old shirked away as I approached to appologize. The Cougar Leader assured me, though I would have ripped out my tongue before giving her reason, that I wouldn’t last 20 minutes with her.  The Russians Ignored me.  The Brazialians, well, they were cool. "It's not every day that you get to talk to three Brazilian girls" they half-jested, after rescuing me from myself.

I left soon after, having fulfilled my promise to Greg and Jessica that I would talk to a couple people.  

Pimp my ride just put flat screens on the mud flaps of this dude's blazer.

This has to be portentous.

I have mixed emotions after reading this:

I met Bill Clinton once but he didn't really talk — he was hitting on my wife," Kutcher told Leno.

The 28-year-old Butterfly Effect actor — who celebrated his first wedding anniversary with Moore, 43, on Sunday — said Clinton completely ignored him as he chatted to Demi.

"I don't think he looked at me the whole time," Kutcher said.

"I was like the guy that wasn't there."

He weights 187 pounds, and can lift 469lb from the ground to over his head. See the latest Porno from Pyrros.

NOTE: That link is Safe For Work. I just couldn't resist the pun.

He's singing!!! !! ! ?

Here the new album by the official band of the WhiskeySlowdown, for free, here.

The second song is names after a horse names "Chips Ahoy". Big Head Todd wrote a song about a horse names "Wearing only flowers".  Coincidence?  Most Definately. 

Alex sends me weather news, indicating that the first snows have hit the slopes.  This is good news.      We have to take Dave on his Bachelor's ski trip. It's like a bachelor party, but with an empahsis on Poker and Stuffed Sheep.  Yee-Haw! ("He-HAWlways does that!")

Ed's in charge of planning.

I was in a pissy mood yesterday after getting to the airport 13 hours before my flight was supposed to leave, then getting caught in trafic on the way back home.  

 I've definately battling a bit of road rust.

Hey,  Staci D (B-rad's Staci) sent me a link to Ryan Adam's website, which features him rapping.  It's pretty awesome.  More proof that Ryan 'is back', is that he didn't release this as an album.

Oh yeah, The Hold Steady's new Album Boys and Girls in America comes out tommorrow. Some Boys and girls uploaded some sweet videos for you, if you follow that link.

UPDATE:  none of those videos where all that sweet.

And the Wonderful and talented Miss Possible is