Tag Archives: the venetian


Foreword by Stan Lerner: determined to not leave Las Vegas before writing a work of some literary merit I contacted Rob Goldstein, the President of The Venetian and Palazzo resorts, and asked if he could facilitate my seeing the Phantom Of The Opera and Jersey Boys. So impressive were these two shows, that I felt it necessary to divide my effort and write not one, but two separate blogs. The first blog of this diptych depiction of Sin City at its holiest is posted both on downtownster and blogsincity as the “Phantom Of The Opera – And I”. I’ll mention here that while I’ve received no reaction from the The Venetian with respect to this blog—many readers have commented that it is perhaps the most beautiful piece I’ve ever written. Well, now as I contemplate how to continue our story I have something to live up to I suppose.

 Last read from “The Phantom Of The Opera—And I”:

The dark figure with his face half-masked approached—The Phantom Of The Opera. To clarify, I am not speaking of the brilliant, Tony Award winner, previously seen on the most elaborate of stages. I speak now of the actual Phantom Of The Opera, risen from his chamber.

Seated next to me he said these words, “The lover of The Phantom Of The Writers, you are?”

“I am,” I responded, solemnly.

“A tragic state of being you’ve accepted—to be loyal,” his voice lowered to a whisper, “yes to be loyal to the giver of your talent and to not be seduced by those who love you for what is not yours.”

“I can’t live without what I’ve been given, so I am a slave to the giver…”

We sat in silence for some moments—waiting. Because there is a moment every day when there is pure truth in all-of-the world.

“Why does a man as handsome as yourself wear a mask?” I asked The Phantom Of The Opera who is perhaps the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes on.

A tear ran down his cheek, not for himself, but for I. “For the same reason, you great writer cannot look into a mirror. I wear the mask to hide not my face, but the ugliness that dwells in my heart…”

Our story continues:


The words of the phantom reverberated in parts of my soul that previous to our encounter I had not fathomed existed. Oh the complexity of the soul and the vexations it suffers. Why must I yearn for greatness? Why must I want for others to share my passion? Surely not from an evil, perplexed heart. You see it is indeed this goodness that continuously births the passion that feeds the darkness—and thus the infinite, alpha helix of my pained existence.

“There is another show, great writer, that you must see,” said The Phantom Of The Opera to I.

“No, this was enough. Should I see anything less it would diminish the euphoria I will forever experience when I think of the theatre, thanks to you.”

The masked face tilted towards I and slightly down, as the phantom is a few inches taller than my six-foot-one frame. “You won’t be disappointed. True there is no other performance that can equal my pageantry and my love of the feminine voice is universally known—still there is another voice in our time from the angels.” Pointing north towards the Palazzo. “And there is yet another question you must answer for yourself.”

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The awful question was with us now. “Why does the world resist that which would change it and make it better?” Continue reading THE JERSEY BOYS


It had been a long day of wine tasting at the Hilton, literally more than a thousand wines to choose from. And there was Billy O’ Rourke’s new tequila served by hot girls via cold ice luge—you get the picture. So later as I sat at the Circle Bar at the Hard Rock Hotel one can easily understand why I might be content to sit and watch Fedor knock out yet another MMA opponent. I can’t wait to see Brock Lesnar and Fedor come to blows, my money will be on Fedor who doesn’t bother with product endorsements, although his right hand might just be the cure for Brock’s foot in the mouth disorder. Anyway, I just wanted to sit, drink (more) and watch the fight.

“I have no interest in watching MMA, let’s roll to Hofbrauhaus and drink some beer and…” said my buddy Isaiah, an exec. at The Venetian.

“You go, I’m watching the fight. I’ll come over when it’s done.”

So I’m talking to Ken the dentist visiting from San Diego to my left when a kid, by kid I mean 22-year-old, pulls up next to me in the seat Isaiah had just vacated. I was hoping for someone of the female variety, obviously, but he seemed decent enough. I was slightly alarmed that he ordered a beer rather than a real drink, like Ken and I, but I reminded myself that the youth of today, well let’s face it, they’re little girls when it comes to vice. Anyway, I included him in the fight conversation with Ken and unlike my buddy Isaiah he did indeed have an interest in some good old ass kicking.

“So what is there to do around here,” he asked.

“This is Vegas, what is there not to do?” I responded. “You’re not from around here are you?”

“I’m from Sweden, I’ve been here for four hours…”

“You’ve never been to Vegas before?” He shook his head. And that’s when I notice two average looking young girls eyeing me, they had “college kids playing hooker in Vegas” written all over them—so I waved them over. I figure that I don’t really give as much money as I should to charity, but I make up for it by helping kids like these two get through school. And since I was feeling particularly philanthropic I nodded toward my new friend from Sweden, thinking that he might like to get a proper start in Vegas.

“So do you want to go up to your room and get naked, the four of us?” asked part time college hooker number one. Continue reading DISCOVERING PLEASURES AT TREASURES


Why in the middle of writing a script, “Downtown Oliver Brown”, I would hop into James’ Hummer and road trip to Vegas I don’t know. I miss the “Road To Nowhere”, gypsy, just irresponsible, need change of scenery, all of the above—whatever, I’m in Vegas.

So why not a travel blog? This qualifies as work. But what to blog about? I called the Wynn PR department, no spa reviews on such short notice, I was notified. Too bad because I could have used a day at the spa to go along with not writing. Of course I jest! Somewhere around Barstow, James decided we’d be staying at Palazzo. And I’ve never written about this still new hotel…UNTIL NOW!

Now my regular readers know that the style of my writing varies upon my mood, the full moon, cash or lack there of, and on and on….Admittedly, I’m in peculiar mood today, so let’s call this, yet another innovation to the craft of writing, my fast and loose style. Frankly, this could be dangerous to anyone or anything that falls or in this case, past tense, fell into my bull’s eye…So watch out Palazzo!

Actually, I’ve strolled through the Palazzo a few times since it first opened and to be fair, I held off writing about the new addition to The Venetian because it opened its retail in phases and in general I garnered that it opened a bit sooner than optimum—and in a terrible economy. But there’s been plenty of time to get it together so…

 Next Day—Tired In A Good Way From Vegas

I liked the Palazzo. Continue reading PALAZZO