The MGM Grand Fucking Deal.

For some reason I figured that it would be super fucking sweet to shoot the casino’s facade through trees. This is obviously because I have a congenital birth defect.

Being originally from the Reno area (Gardnerville and Dayton in particular, but I lived and worked in Neon Babylon for a spell), the Big House as it’s known today by casino workers, Grand Sierra Resort (or Grand Smokescreen Ripoff, whichever) was the biggest and most opulent club in the area. It was originally built as the MGM Grand in the late 70s and subsequently changed owners more times than some people change underwear (yeah I’m talkin’ about me here) and is now part-owned by a couple of hillbillies from Motley Crue (or at least was, until they realized that the property, much like a boat, was a big hole in the water into which you dump your money).

So being around a big giant resort casino that had fuckin’ lions inside wasn’t a big damn deal. We’d go in, have buffet, play laser tag and gawk at the lions. Big whoop right?

But to some people, well, to some people lions in a casino is a BIG HUGE COLLOSSAL FUCKING DEAL HOLY SHIT THERE ARE LIONS HERE !!!


Have you ever been to a zoo? Sure you have, everybody has. That’s like the sole reason to go to San Francisco. That and making out with hippy chicks in the rain when you say you have a bit of green on you and you’d be happy to engage in a bit of quid-pro-quo. Lions, especially semi-domesticated show lions are without a doubt the most boring critters on the face of the planet – and I spend most of my time around humans.

Do you own a cat? If no, do you have a family member who owns a cat? Sure you do, we’re all related to some crazy old lady that has more cats than you’ve ever owned cars and her house reeks of ammonia and skanky old canned tuna. Cats, in case you haven’t noticed, aren’t exactly the most energetic or entertaining of pets. Especially the bigger, older ones. Sure, kittens bounce around and chase sproingy around on strings (or in our case, lasers attached to the ends of firearms) but once they get older and bigger, they pretty much just lay around all the time.

One of the great philosophers of our times posited that “[cats] should be technically classified a liquid.” They just lay around in a pool on the ground or chair or windowsill. If they weren’t contained by a thin, impermeable skin, they’d just leak out all over the place and stain the carpet. Moreso, I mean.

So, flash forward to today and here we are back at the old MGM Grand’s older brother, the Vegas property and lo and behold, there’s the lion enclosure. And as expected with big old overfed domesticated kitties, what are they doing but…

Just fucking lying there in a puddle of fur and whiskers.

Hippos, being the most dangerous mammals on the planet and responsible for about as many human deaths as the malaria bug, are entertaining as hell at the zoo. They’re active during the day, they’re constantly moving around and doing shit. They waddle and wade, they open their huge mouths and bear their grisly, sharpened, man-spearing tusks. They wag their ears and then wave their tails around and spray piss on the gawkers. The hippo enclosure is a Gallagher show, just without all his pretension of being a heady, intellectualist comedian who just happens to bang on shit with a mallet. You will get wet.

Lions on the other hand just laze around. I could stay at home and watch a cat lie on the ground.

But yet here people come, from miles around to stand and stare and gape and gawk at the fucking lions. Pointshoot digital cameras and iPhones raised, the big cats live in a world where the only sound they hear is the electronic clicky-clack of cameraphones snapping a still.

“I just don’t see what the big deal is how could Siegfried and/or Roy been taken apart by one of those boring old things? Maybe it’s just because he’s a bit of a sissy and you know how those types are, right?”

Maybe I am jaded to the point where the King of the Jungle just doesn’t excite? No that cannot possibly be, I sat through The Ghost and the Darkness with a nonstop boner and not just because of Michael Douglas’ chiseled jawline. Lions are rad fucking animals – when left in their natural environment. When they’re placed in an enclosure and hand fed to the point where they just forget how to chase down and devour a gazelle (or slow-running beflipflopped biped) and allowed to sleep in to their heart’s content, well at that point there’s no magic. They may as well be the animatrons at the Rainforest Cafe for all the lively and lifelike they are.

But for urban dwellers for whom the furthest they’ve been away from a Starbucks is the center of the Oakland Bay Bridge, the lion enclosure is pure, raw, unadulterated jungle excitement. Pathetic. Disgusting.

These poor lions live in a world where a half inch of Lexan plastic separates them from the easiest meal they’ll ever catch. Maybe that’s why they sleep in, tortured by the fact that an entire paradise buffet exists outside this upended mason jar in which they live, but they’re unable to get to it, the grisly satisfaction of claws digging into personflesh lies tantalizingly, agonizingly out of reach.


2 Responses to “The MGM Grand Fucking Deal.”

  1. Jenn Says:

    I tend to hate zoos for the same reason. However I haven’t been to the zoo since I was a little kid (I thought it was depressing to see caged animals) I’m sure they are more habitat-like these days… but just the ‘for human entertainment’ suxs in my book. I’d much rather watch some national geographic special on wild animals in their habitats.

    “They wag their ears and then wave their tails around and spray piss on the gawkers.” awesome quote

  2. cięcie laserem Says:

    cięcie laserem…

    […]The MGM Grand Fucking Deal. « Vegas Sucks[…]…

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