A Day of Celebration!

Happy OFFICIAL Nevada Day!

Can you believe it's been 142 years since we were admitted into the Union? I swear, it feels like it's only been 130.

I hope none of you get too caught up in the evil commercialism and forget the TRUE meaning of Nevada Day. And that, of course, is the fact that it takes a long time to drive from Vegas to Reno. I mean, c'mon, what is it? Like 11 hours? That's ridiculous. What will Gibbons or Titus do about that, huh?

That's what I'll be thinking about as I decorate my Nevada Day sagebrush, watch "King of Cars" on A&E, and sing Nevada Day classics such as: "Oh Little Town of Pahrump", "I Heard The Bells of Slot Machines", and "I saw Mommy Kissing Another Stripper".

And for you losers who use Nevada Day as an excuse to dress up in wacky costumes and go door to door asking for candy, I only ask that you at least take a moment of silence to think about all the brave quarters and dollar bills who sacrificed themselves so that you can live in a place with no state income tax.

May the Silver State be with you. Always.

Random thoughts from Reno (apologies to Thomas Sowell)...

Has anyone ever used the internet service at a hotel? I'm not talking about using their wireless connection for your laptop. I'm talking about those of us Neandertals who don't own a laptop and have to use the cordless keyboard provided which surfs the web via the hotel TV set. This thing sucks! It doesn't have a normal mousepad like a laptop. It just has a button. A very hard to control button. And look at this--I can't even hit "Enter" to make a new paragraph! Arrrrgh! Perhaps there is some way, but I can't take the chance to experiment since I've already accidentally closed a dozen websites and launched a few nuclear warheads (sorry Argentina). Other than that (this *would* be a swell time for a new paragraph), my trip to Reno has gone swimmingly. I have free vouchers to use the buffet for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but since I slept in until 2pm I didn't even make it in time for lunch. Who wants to set the alarm to eat? My stomach is going to have to growl loudly in the morning if it wants to be fed. And the dinner buffet closes at 9pm. 9pm! Is that what time they close in Vegas? I don't even know, but it's cramping my style. Who eats dinner before midnight? Only mogwai, I think. // Pretend I started a new paragraph. This is a horrible looking blog. I shouldn't even press "post". By the way, I've decided to go with the British and from now on, I will put my end quotation marks before the punctuation because it makes more sense. No more of "this." From now on, it's "this". Hurray for the English for choosing logic over tradition. James J. Kilpatrick and all the other "language mavens" can kiss my ass. // Speaking of language mavens, I recently received an email from Steven Pinker. Yes, THE Steven Pinker! I wrote to him to say that something in one of his books ("The Language Instinct") inspired me to write a comedy bit. I almost felt like I stole it, so I asked for his permission to use it. He said of course I could use it and he added that he was "honored". I don't even do the bit that often, but I guess now I'll *have* to do it if I ever perform for the Harvard psychology department. // I'm done now. This hotel internet costs $45,000 an hour and my hour is almost up.