It’s an S&G Special Austerity Edition (i.e., no pictures) …
Three grand. That’s the value of a human life in Nevada. The Washingtonian who crashed his car into Laughlin‘s Edgewater casino, killing two and injuring seven, is out on $6,000 bail. One presumes that the tally weighing on his conscience is considerably greater than that. And to think that this tragedy might have been forestalled by a few iron pillars like the tasteful ones you see outside Fry’s Electronics or the “decorative” impediments that front any Target store. Whatever the Edgewater saved by having inadequate protection of its entrance will be as nothing compared to the cost of the litigation that will arise from this fiasco as certainly as night follows day.
Speaking of inevitabilities, that $5.5 billion balloon payment looming on MGM Mirage‘s debt schedule next year will have to be pushed back to mid-decade. Seriously, did either MGM or its lenders think it could meet that deadline when the loans were drawn up? This is the Mount Everest of non-surprising events.
On most days, Nevada’s phone-it-in governor, Jim Gibbons is good for a laugh. For instance, as when rattles off a laundry list of Northern Nevada attractions but lumps everything worth seeing south of Washoe County under “Las Vegas.” Or when he thinks it’s Casual Friday at the state capital (for once, the term “Twitpic” seems singularly apt). Or when he says Nevada will be a “premier leader.” (As opposed to a “rearguard leader”? A “middle-of-the-pack leader”?)
But there’s nothing funny about Midnight Jim’s latest austerity budget. Whether it’s skimping on medical gloves, further decimating services to the mentally ill or whacking 27 positions from the Nevada Gaming Control Board payroll (a 2010 agency staffed proportionally to 1990-sized casino industry), there are potentially disastrous consequences — think Hepatitis Crisis, the Sequel — to many of the items on Gibbons’ budgetary death list.
However, one of the worst cuts, the most odious, the most characteristic of what makes Midnight Jim not only despicable but unfit to hold office is his desire to raid the fund set aside for treating pathological gamblers, saving a relatively puny $1.8 million, (down from $2.5 million, five years ago). It took years of advocacy, especially in the face of one feckless Legislature after another, to get even this modest revenue stream — funded by taxes on slot machines — generated.
When it comes to problem gambling, the State of Nevada has long been in denial and now Gibbons proposes to take away what little it has been willing to commit to pathological gamblers and the people who treat them. (Child-protective services are also a target for Gibbons’ rapacity, further proof that no one is too small to be given the gubernatorial finger.) As dire the picture is for the arts, they’re getting off relatively easy.
Turning to the continued diminution of Nevada’s educational system, even if the worst-case scenario (see end of story) doesn’t come true, it’s still economic suicide, guaranteeing the state an undereducated, underqualified, uncompetitive workforce for years to come. That’s precisely not the prescription for achieving the economic diversification Midnight Jim claims to be pursuing. Then again, despite his pair of advanced degrees, pilot’s license and military decorations, I sometimes wonder if our governor could add two and two if you spotted him the “= 4.”
Gibbons’ former benefactors at MGM, by the way, is among those who should be lauded for doing what Nevada has largely failed to, in re pathological gambling. Harrah’s Entertainment has been raising awareness early and often, whether under the leadership of Philip Satre or Gary Loveman, and IGT has been a generous underwriter of problem-gambling programs. Heck, the state’s “fund” is paid for by the industry, too. Here’s hoping that gaming execs make some loud noises about those dollars being potentially stashed in a different state pocket than the one for which they were intended.
Air Newton. As though Michigan doesn’t have problems enough, a county airport is on the hook for 60 dimes after Wayne Newton abandoned an airplane there. It used to be a $2 million ride but, from the sound of things, it’s not worth the price of a Once Before You Go ticket anymore.
Post-Newton. What’s to become of the Tiffany Theatre when The Wayner rings down the curtain in April? That’s the subject of a spirited internal debate at the Tropicana, it seems. One can certainly understand the financial imperative in favor of ripping out the seating for a Luxor-style sardine-can arena (though, hopefully, with a less vertiginous rake to it). Besides, sitting in a booth that’s at right angles to the stage has some inherent drawbacks for the customer (like, Who gets the seats facing away from the action?).
However, there aren’t too many old-school Vegas showrooms left, especially since the demise of the Stardust‘s, which epitomized the pleasures and pitfalls of that type of venue. Besides, for those patrons willing to pay premium prices, they ought to get a little something extra in return … like elbow room.
Strictly for laughs. If the one and only Larry King were in Avatar, he’d look … pretty much the way he already does. This is one of those days we need a laugh, however cheaply they come.
