Editorial

Good morning, fellow Las Vegan amigos! Why morning you might ask? Well, this moment marks a new beginning in the history of Las Vegas. A new day has broken, and a new era is upon us.

"Jack, we know you're dead," you're probably thinking to yourself. You don't know nothing 'bout Jack Binion kid!

I am alive, and I'll be here to offer you advice and wisdom as an old-timer who knew when to hold or fold, cut and run at the right time.

Ah, the glory days.

I rode out on top, and no one is going to drag me down. No one touches Jack Binion.
So, what's to make of the recent mess on the Strip?

Let's think about it for a little while. Just a couple years ago, gaming stocks were untouchable just like my face. MGM Mirage stock was trading for nearly a hundred bucks a share.

These days, I could practically buy the Bellagio for the dough I've got buried in a nice plot right off Sahara, and I could finish wiping my butt with those worthless Las Vegas Sands stock certificates.
So, what's the fuss?

Why've these new suits imported from some basement in Wall Street run their company ass first into the ground? Listen, kids, it's because they've lost their roots. They don't know nothing.

Las Vegas is about gambling.

Guess what? It's not about running a Club Med for washed up, old bastards and yuppie kids. It's not about turning every corner of your casino into some queer, Miami club scene.

It's not about plugging in another tired old bunch of French circus clowns hopped up on meth, jumping around like a bunch of cats on a hot tin roof. And hey, it's not about building an entire new center of the city!

Vegas is about gambling. Pure and simple.

Knock down the clubs, cut off the fancy chefs' fingers, plow over the VIP lounges, and put in some more blackjack tables. Slap the face of every smart aleck, 20-something kid who walks in the door. Tell 'em Jack said so. And if they got a problem with that, they can come talk to me. I'll burn 'em.

Jack Binion