It is the nature of the place, Las Vegas. With arid desert sprawling in all directions and a grand canyon in one of such magnificence it’s hard to fathom it was created in just one day, the area was discovered to be an oasis centuries ago by Spaniards traveling north from Tejas. The area has always been about survive and advance.
The Vegas of dumbfounding excess, the Vegas that turned the seven deadly sins into a design for glitzkrieg business success, that Vegas the world has come to know is but 50 years old.
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Each of us must have a quiet place, a safe and solemn refuge. A go-to spot where we can chill. Always, but especially in this summer of our discontent.
It should be handy, a room at home away from family tumult, or a sanctuary of sorts but a short stroll away, a getaway for decompression and contemplation.
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Like Lazarus before them, U of L’s improbable, unforeseeable resurrection continued last Saturday night. Nothing helps the faithful sleep better than dreams of smarmy Tom Crean, the smirk wiped off his face, stewing in his own bile.
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It’s a sign of exactly how big Super Bowl Sunday has become, this movement to make the day after a national holiday from work.
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Here’s one diehard’s opinion on the sad condition of his beloved U of L Cardinal hoopsters.
It is a dumbfounding state of affairs. This team is not without talent. Rick Pitino hasn’t suddenly lost his abundant coaching faculties. Young teams in such a desultory state at the beginning of conference play have made runs to the NCAA. Kansas did last season.
Yet so soon after a Final Four appearance, it’s hard to be optimistic about this campaign or the program.
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Look at what they’ve gone and done to the Downs.
Somewhere on high, Joseph Baldez caught a peek at what they have done to his handiwork. His head in his hands, he can’t look again.
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