Saturday, June 25, 2011
Since my last trek to the desert a wild thrill ride has been installed high above the street level on Fremont Street in downtown Las Vegas.
Nightly, tourists -and locals alike - are plunking down big bucks (day passes are 50 smackeroos) to hop on a high-wire contraption (about 850 feet in length) to slide the-light-fantastic at 30 mph underneath a $70 million video screen as ecstatic friends and family cheer 'em on from the packed street level below.
“They’re like rock stars!” one excited regular blurted out to all within earshot one heady night, when the conversation turned to the subject of the ballsy-nerve of the adventure-seekers.
And, pity the poor devil who happens to be standing directly beneath an intoxicated dude, when he unexpectedly spills his guts after a bout of motion sickness suddenly sets in.
Great photo opportunity, though!
See 'ya there!
When a local news outlet (Fox Channel 5) reported yesterday afternoon that a recent poll determined that Caucasian babies (ages one to three) were a minority in the country, a cry went up around the country from American-born Citizens!
One friend moaned:
"If we're a minority (white folks) in this country twenty years from now, I'm packing up lock-stock-and-barrel and relocating to Europe. It's 'Lily White' in Switzerland and Holland, isn't it?" he wondered aloud to all within earshot.
Obviously, there is a reason for the trend.
Young intelligent (educated) white couples tend to be keen on planned parenthood and are not generally inclined to "dump" babies at whim at taxpayer's expense.
There is a likelihood - too - that Anglo-Saxon sweethearts quit their childbearing efforts once two children (preferably one boy and one girl) are born into the family unit.
Call it the "nuclear family" for want of a better term!
It is also wholly possible that orphans of all racial persuasion (adopted by altruistic parents) account for a percentage of the numbers.
"There is a solution to the dilemma," I chuckled to my pal (if only to boost his morale and put an end to his blues).
"White couples need to start matching the offspring of - Blacks, Latinos, and Asians - baby for baby."
"It's a workable goal, Caucasions are capable of achieving," I underscored in an afterthought (in case their was any doubt in his mind).
For example, when there was a uproar over the illegal flow of immigrants from Mexico, the border was later secured and laws put into place to curb the alarming threatening trend.
Likewise, when the problem of illegal workers reared its ugly head, E Verify was introduced to ensure applicants were legally in the U.S. (and entitled to work).
Because of bold, brave, direct action - fewer illegals have been crossing the border - and seeking gainful employment in the United States.
A "BABY DRIVE" has the potential to accomplish a "white" end scenario, in my estimation.
Providing healthy young white couples start hitting the sack with one thought in mind, of course!
A revolutionary idea?
Like any other race, white folks need to protect their culture from extinction, too.
And, take whatever action is required, to mantain the status quo.
Gladiator prepares to circumcise Caesar's Warrior!
(and toss the foreskin to the dogs)
On the tonight show last night, Jay Leno joked that hunky Aussie Actor - Russell Crowe - confided in an interview that he is opposed to "circumcision".
"Well, he's an actor. They're against any "cuts" in the editing room," Leno chortled.
The audience roared from below the footlights!
My thoughts on the subject were posted a couple of days ago in response to a measure to be placed on a San Francisco Ballot in November which seeks to ban "circumcision" in the picturesque Bay by the sea.
Leno "cut" or "uncut"?
Friday, June 24, 2011
I was munching on a salad day-before-last at one of the local eateries when one of my dazzling crowns popped off mid-chew.
Before I was wise to the fact, I swallowed the little sucker right down.
Folks around the desert oasis may have noticed that I have been particularly tight-lipped until this morning.
For good reason!
I was making a concerted effort to hide the unsightly up-front gap which was a blight upon my "looks".
Vanity be thy name, eh?
I bemoaned the loss to a pal.
"Crowns are expensive, 'ya know?"
In fact, depending on the dental work required to correct the problem, the costs could be astronomical.
"I may have to spend up to a thousand bucks to have a new crown installed," I wailed.
"Well, there is one solution to the problem," my buddy cackled wickedly.
"The tooth will pass through your digestive tract and end up in your next bowel movement," he noted matter-of-fact.
Was he suggesting that I sift through my sh** to retreive the little devil?
Would I ever stoop to such drastic measures?
Let's put it this way.
Today, the crown is secured firmly in place.
You figure it out!
On the heels of tossing a chic soiree for an elite circle of pals on the roof of her beach-front condo, "Mean Girls" star - Lindsay Lohan - saw her world careen out-of-control once again.
Before a snitch could utter up "probation violation"- a bench-warmer presiding over Lindsay's complex legal proceedings - was inclined to haul the starlet's pretty a** back into court for downing a few drinkie-poohs while under house arrest.
Once in court, however, Lindsay's astute lawyer pointed out that when the terms for the "house arrest" were approved there wasn't any stipulation that the troubled addict refrain from tossing back a shot or two (to ease the pain now-and-then).
The Judge ended up with egg on her face!
As one of the kids on TMZ would quip.
"Was that scrambled or fertilized?"
Subsequently, the testy Judicial Officer was forced to shift gears and issue a spanking-new directive so there would be no bones about the issues in the future.
In no uncertain terms, the Jurist (obviously on the rag in view of her bitchy demeanour yesterday) hammered home the obvious.
Although Ms. Lohan was able to roam freely within the confines of her comfy lodgings at the beach, she was - in essence - still in "jail".
With this in mind - and in view of Lindsay's flagrant disregard for the sanctity of the Judicial System - the Judge proceeded to ban all parties in the future.
In a bold-faced effort to accomplish this end, the Judge imposed a restriction on guests.
Currently, Ms. Lohan is only allowed to invite one guest to her home whenever there is a need for companionship.
The hanging Judge stopped short of taking her allowance away, I expect.
By the way, if you're a fan - rooting for Ms. Lohan - you've obviously been marking the days of her incarceration (!) on the calendar.
Lohan has a scant few days to remain sober, clean, and humble as a church mouse.
Will Lohan be celebrating her freedom with a night out on-the-town?
News at 11!
Amid a storm of controversy, North America's largest electronic dance "Rave" is about to kick-off today at the Las Vegas Motor Speedway on the outskirts of town.
Local Officials said it was a "go" yesterday morning after assuring concerned citizens (opposed to the trendy tribal celebration) that high-security measures were in place.
But, later in the afternoon, the promoters were forced to revamp their procedures in the wake of the disturbing news that there had been a second death at a rave in Dallas last year which was cause for additional concern.
Today, Law Enforcement Officials are confident that the "Electric Daisy Carnival" will go off without a hitch - and that over the next three rollicking fun-loving days - the festival will be a positive upbeat musical experience with no tragic incidents on the horizon.
For starters, the age limit for attendance was raised from 16 years of age to 18.
ID will be checked and verified at the gate to ensure no underage electronic music fans slip through.
All ticket-holders will also be subjected to a thorough body-search.
An inside source also whispered in my ear that a posse of undercover narcotic's agents will be filtering through the crowd to monitor drug sales - with the ultimate aim - of preventing potential overdoses.
The drug of choice, of course, is ecstasy.
The illegal substance triggers a surge of serotonin in the body (nick-named the "Happiness Hormone") which results in a surge of euphoria and mind-boggling well-being - at which point - the individual experiences a heightened-sensitivity in respect to their five senses.
"Everyone gets real touchy-feely on the dance floor," one teen fessed up jubilantly to one reporter quizzing attendees at the front entrance.
Ecstasy addicts are easy to spot in the crowd because they usually suck on baby pacifiers to prevent the teeth from grinding (a side reaction to the drug which may become a nasty habit difficult to curb until the teeth literally fall out!).
The much-ballyhooed musical extravaganza is sponsored by INSOMNIAC (go figure!) and runs from sun-up to sun-down over the weekend.
About 150 musical artists are slated to perform at the trendy "can't miss" social event of the year.
In addition to wild dancing throughout the night, ticket-holders are sure to hop on a myriad of carnival rides to add to the weekend thrills.
See 'ya there!
Thursday, June 23, 2011
The other evening I was cruising through the Casino floor at the MGM Grand - when I spied a gang of tipsy teenage boys gathered around the animal compound - crooning Capella.
"In the Jungle, the mighty Jungle, the Lion Sleeps tonight!"
How GLEE of 'em!
But, they had nothing on the posse of drunken lads traipsing down the strip at about 3 a.m. belting out at the top of their lungs (in tribute to Elvis?).
It's going to be a sizzling hot summer in the exotic desert oasis in many respects.
News at 11!
Close your eyes.
Now, open up your mouth wide, and take a bite of this morsel of food I am offering up.
It is cold, tastes like cardboard, and causes you to gag when you attempt to chew on it.
What is it?
The worst pizza in Las Vegas being served up at Sbarro daily at the Monte Carlo Hotel.
Something tells me those Latino Chefs should leave the pizza-making to the Italians!
Avoid this eatery like the plague, or suffer the trots during your brief stay in the desert oasis, just betcha.
I expect that if I utter up five little words - "The Thunder From Down Under" - the image of disgraced Congressman Anthony Weiner will spring to mind.
Weiner's weener is overcooked news (the last time I scanned local & national news clips).
Of course, I am spouting off at-the-mouth about a posse of sexy stud muffins - tanned and ripped - who are causing quite a few hearts to go pitter-patter at the Excalibur nightly on the Vegas strip.
If you're into the hulking male physique, or a bit of sensual bumping-and-grinding up-close and personal, then you'll want to trot over to the cool air-conditioned theatre to catch their high-energy romp which was touted as the "Best Male Stripper Review" of 2009!
Just betcha, the erotic display of half-naked Spartans, rugged Cowboys, and ennobling Knights (in shining Armour), will be enough to take your breath away.
And, prompt a posse of fans of male burlesque to dash up to the stage ringside, with the express aim of stuffing a fistful of dollars down their sexy whitie-tighties (and copping a feel while they're at it?).
Whether it is a night out on-the-town with the girls, or a prowl in "Sin City" to scout for a date, you won't be disappointed.
See 'ya there!
Well, I have to report on these landmark events, now don't I?
Get along little doggie!
A big flap over "to cut" or "not to cut" has caused erupted into a huge uproar in San Francisco in recent days.
Of course, I am referring to the unkindest cut of all, circumcision!
The controversy arose when a posse of well-meaning self-styled sex-perts launched an initiative on the November ballot in the upcoming election to ban the procedure (often conducted within hours of the screaming baby's birth).
In a knee-jerk reaction, opponents filed a lawsuit on the grounds that the measure is anti-Semitic, a threat to the religious freedom of Jews and Muslims, and an infringement on parental and medical rights.
Attorneys for the plaintiffs also argue that current law prohibits local Government from restricting medical procedures.
The SFMGM bill is necessary to "protect all infants and children in San Francisco from pain and harm caused by forced genital cutting (and damage ranging from excruciating pain, nerve destruction, loss of normal, natural, and functional tissue, infection, disfigurement, and sometimes death," according to supporters.
After all, I have first-hand knowledge when it comes to the issue of circumcision.
Because I was born in Canada in the fifties, I was not circumcised.
In retrospect, I count by blessings!
Frankly, I feel sorry for males who were forced to go under the knife without their permission.
In fact, a handful of male friends who were circumcised as children, have confided that they feel they have suffered a loss of sexual satisfaction in their adult life because of the barbaric practice routinely performed in North America.
Personally, I can't imagine how dudes "get off" without a foreskin!
When uncircumcised males manipulate their skin up-and-down over the head of the penis - the sensual pleasure is so great - that they just about go through the roof in a moment of sheer ecstasy.
In contrast, male buddies have moaned that if they don't use a little lube - not only will they chaff the skin on the end of their precious cock - but it is doubtful they will be able to blow their load!
Uncircumcised guys are lucky a hatchet man didn't snip their foreskin off at birth!
Just think about it.
It should be obvious to any fool - that if a male trots around all day with the "bare" head of his penis rubbing against his underwear or slacks - that it's bound to get "desensitized".
In contrast, an "uncut" dude's cock remains protected 24/7 to his erotic advantage.
For example, once the skin rolls back, the head of the penis is so sensitive to touch that it quivers with excitement.
Blow-jobs are phenomenal, believe me!
Years ago, I was strolling down a street in West Hollywood, when a rep for a local talk show invited me to be a part of the televsion audience.
As it turned out, circumcision was the topic of discussion.
A couple of guests on the panel swore up-and-down - that because they were circumcised at birth - they weren't experiencing all the sexual pleasure their uncut counterparts were.
"I was butchered," one lamented to all within earshot.
Understandably, when I stood up and gushed about how sexually satisfying my life was with foreskin, the audience was "sold".
The general consensus in the studio that day?
"Leave a kid's damn penis alone!"
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Now that the Sahara Hotel has shuttered its windows and doors, and the liquidation sale is in full swing, there is a lot of scuttlebutt floating around about the outcome of the prime real estate situated at Sahara Boulevard and the Las Vegas strip.
However, in response to queries, the owners have remained tight-lipped.
Personally, I have been tinkering with the idea of a water-themed amusement park!
After all, a roller-coaster is already on the property and ready to rev up once again.
In addition, a monorail in place to transport tourists to the site in the event my vision pans out.
A few years ago, when I was performing in a live stage production of "Ghostbusters" at a country fair back east, the cast and I headed off to splash about in the wading pools when the curtain fell each day - and scream bloody-murder - as we excitedly flew down a myriad of water slides for weeks on end.
Talk about a cool and refreshing respite from the sizzling hot mid-day sun!
What say U?
News at 11!
One of the best-kept secrets in Las Vegas is the soothing Tea Lounge situated next to the Sky Lobby in the Mandarin Oriental on the 23rd floor of the exquisite luxury Hotel.
Once the elevator doors are whisked open, guests are knocked-out by a breathtaking panoramic view of the exotic desert oasis resort, for starters.
The chic upscale nook is not only a cozy environ - but the perfect respite from the throbbing frenzied heartbeat of the glitzy strip below - for sure.
According to my sources, the aesthetic tea room has become a magnet for a handful of guests who prefer to multi-task on their laptops, while they sip on exotic blends of tea, savor a tasty dessert, and meditate on the glorious skyline beyond the ever-popular spanking-new City Center.
One pet peeve, however!
Although management has posted an over-sized menu at the front entrance, the staff have failed to itemize the charges, for some inexplicable reason.
Perhaps an old axiom rings true.
If you have to ask the cost, maybe you can't afford it?
Or, are the charges so exorbitant, that the prices have been held back to prevent potential customers from being scared off before electing to be seated comfortably inside?
In my estimation, there is a practical (deceitful?) reason behind it.
Once a person is settled in for their afternoon treat, it is doubtful they'll exit in a huff, if the bill-of-fare is too expensive.
Who wants to embarrass themselves in front of a posse of prying guests (or be considered cheap) after all?
A bather like myself pines for a tub like this to relax in!
On Saturday, June 25th, Cadillac is hosting an eclectic soiree sure to be the jazzy upscale event of the season!
Locals, and tourists alike, are invited by the staff at Los Angeles Magazine to attend a smorgasbord of culinary delights, cooking demos, and scrumptious food sampling from a handful of reputable high-quality restaurants catering to elite clienteles in the Los Angeles vicinity.
Celebrity Chefs will be whipping up their specialties and include the likes of Alberto Bini, Alejandra Schrader, Ali Mookhi, Anthony Jacquet, and Debbie Lee.
For an invite to a chi-chi VIP cocktail par-tay when the sun sets in the west later in the evening, just test drive a Cadillac at the Grove during the hours of 11 a.m. - 7 p.m.
See 'ya there!
In some cultures, a Shaman is either a "witch doctor" or a prophet (or both).
Essentially a "healer", he (or she) is often chosen by a spirit guide (or given a sign) -and thereafter - is initiated into the realms of the Shamans to perform their miracles.
During a trance state - often induced by way of the beating of the ceremonial drum and sacred chanting - the witch doctor is guided by the spirits.
Usually, the Shaman works on behalf of a member of the tribe, and attempts to effect a healing.
For those who are troubled by disturbing dreams - especially in these uncertain economic times - the Shaman recommends that the individual craft (or purchase) a Dream Catcher to ward off negative influences.
According to Plains Indian Chiefs, a dream catcher should be hung by the window or at the head of the subject's bed.
Bad dreams that float from evil sources get caught in the web at the center of the dream catcher which is also decorated with feathers, lucky beads, and powerful symbols deep-rooted in the ancient culture.
The good dreams work their way through an opening at the center of the intricate mystical web, rest on the feather like a dew drop, then evaporate to become one with the Great Spirit in the morning sun.
Plenty of that in the Desert Oasis, eh?
The prayer beads on the symbolic Dream Catcher trap all the evil nightmares that are left on the web, and thereafter, burn 'em up.
An incident at the Bellagio Hotel & Casino yesterday afternoon prompted me to enlist the aid of Mr. Manners to pen an essay on proper etiquette when it comes to tipping in glitzy Las Vegas (or elsewhere for that matter).
Normally, when a patron gambles on the Casino floor - at the slots or at a gaming table - cocktails, soft drinks, water, even beer - are on the house.
The "lubricating" drinks are not only geared to elevate a guest into a happy-go-lucky mood - but also - offered up with the hope that the gambler may be more inclined to part with a bit of cash in favor of the cashier's gate, too.
Just try to secure a drinkie-pooh from a tired old cocktail waitress if it appears you are not a whale about to drop a truckload of cash at the tables - or at a minimum - fritter away a fistful of bucks on the one-armed bandit scattered about the dazzling premises.
In view of the foregoing, I have a tipping structure that I follow - whenever I zip into my favorite Casino - to plug a handful of coins into the inviting 3-D slots strategically-placed about the floor of the Hotel environs.
If the waitress delivers up a lone beer - or a glass of quality white wine - I usually tip a buck (provided I haven't been forced to wait a half-an-hour-or-so to quench my thirst once I have stepped inside the establishment to take a respite from the sizzling-hot afternoon desert sun).
If I ordered an exotic cocktail, the stages get higher, and I generally toss at least two dollar bills on the tray (with a smile and a thank you very much).
But, when it comes to soft drinks or regular water, I usually pass on a tip for good reason.
For example, if I sit at the slots for a couple of hours - and consume four or five cokes - I'll end up frittering away a fiver at least.
In these tough economic times?
No way, Jose!
Especially if the handful of sodas (?) consist mostly of packed ice, water, and a dollop of syrup.
What they offer up at Bellagio (and elsewhere on the glitzy Vegas strip) is not even real coke, folks!
Judging by the response I get from a large percentage of the waitresses on duty, my tip structure is acceptable, because it is reasonable and practical (bottom line).
In fact, more often-than-not, a server is inclined to respond to my take on tipping in a respectful manner.
"If you need anything else, just wave me down," they usually stress with sincerity in their voice.
So, you can imagine how surprised I was yesterday afternoon when an uncouth waitress proceeded to linger at my side (after she plunked the coke down) in a diabolical bold-faced effort to intimidate - and ultimately - coerce some moolah out of me.
As a rule, a well-brought-up waitress -with a modicum of good manners - usually cruises up, slips soda down, then drifts off in the event coin of the realm is not offered up.
No big deal for someone with class!
In contrast, the shocking behaviour of the hag at the Bellagio - was not only inappropriate - but underscored poor breeding and a total lack of etiquette.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
On the weekend I was channel-surfing when I stumbled upon a Josh Groban special marking a PBS 10th Anniversary broadcasting live! in Las Vegas.
At first blush, it was obvious the concert was a sly (deceitful) effort by Groban's handlers to stir up the passions of the pop vocalist's die-hard fans - and ultimately - jazz up his sagging image on the concert circuit around the country.
For instance, the editors weaved together a fast-paced montage of short clips geared towards seducing the viewing audience.
In a nutshell, the slick images were intended to manipulate and jolt the emotions - and pull at the heart strings - in the final analysis.
As a result, music-lovers - and fans alike - were unable to discern what had just washed over them.
Oh yes, there were shots of Groban - moaning mournfully, reaching out to the audience tenderly, wiggling a little butt - you name it.
Josh solos on drums!
Josh tickles the ivories!
Granted, when Mr. Groban warbled signature tunes such as - "You Raise me Up" - he was right on the "money".
His strong masculine voice appeals, after all.
In contrast, when he took a musical risk with original interpretations of established standards, the outcome was usually an abysmal failure.
When he crooned in Spanish, it was laughable, too.
At one point, Groban appeared for all-the-world like a nice little Jewish kid, dressed-up and at-the-ready to attend a Bar Mitzvah.
But somehow - by a quirk of fate - the warbler managed to end up on a concert stage instead (stripped bare and naked to the world).
In a prior critique last year, I opined that Josh Groban lacked the "presence" and "stature" to hold his own in such a setting with world-class musicians at his beck-and-call.
To his credit, this time out, Josh surrounded himself (in a few entertaining segments) with a handful of his contemporaries that succeeded in boot-strapping him up.
But clearly, as a solo "concert" act, he sucks!
The last time I spied Britney Spears poolside in the desert oasis was a couple of years ago when I attended the local film festival - CineVegas - at a handful of venues around town.
I was interviewing celebs on the red carpet when I happened to strike up a rapport with a couple of the local paparazzi who plied me with juicy inside tidbits about Ms. Spears.
Scandal-ridden Brit was suffering from the blues when she jetted in to town for a respite from it all that week.
"Britney is hunkered down in a Condo upstairs," one of the professional snoops confided in me.
"She's a good friend of the Hotel owner, George Maloof," he underscored, as an afterthought.
I was quite familiar with the scuttlebutt.
Ms. Spear's musical persona was in the dumper and rumors abounded that Maloof was going to sign her to a contract with the specific aim of raising up her wobbling career like a Phoenix from the ashes.
The two outgoing down-to-earth dudes were hanging out downstairs anxious to get a "money shot" before she skipped town.
"Good luck," I chuckled, as I headed off to a chic soiree I was invited to on the pool deck.
Shortly after I sauntered in, there was as definite buzz in the air.
Although Britney made a quiet entrance into the par-tay through a side-door, the news swept through the upscale party guests quicker than the speed of lightning, that the scandal-ridden Pop Queen was in their midst!
I reported on the event at the time.
By the way, I couldn't resist strolling by the vicinity where she was holding court, to get a gander myself.
Britney and I actually exchanged glances!
Now, her handlers have announced that Britney will be attending the Grand Opening of Nikki Beach at the newly-renovated Tropicana Hotel on the weekend, after she performs live! on stage in a much-anticipated Las Vegas concert. (which I expect will be a sell-out).
No doubt, long queues will form at the glittering Hotel on that celebrated evening, when the young DIVA makes her grand entrance into the frenzied swirl of Las Vegas social life!
See 'ya there!
Monday, June 20, 2011
Folks were up-in-arms bright-and-early this morning when they spied a small terrier locked inside a SUV with all the windows closed tight as-a-drum!
Because the driver parked in the shade outside a retail outlet, I expect they imagined that there was no need to crack the windows a tad to ensure their lovable pup was able to breath safely inside while they were off doing errands.
Even out of direct sunlight, the interior of a vehicle may quickly soar to unbearable deadly temperatures.
Get smart, animal owners!
Otherise, concerned citizens may be petitioning to have those family pets turned over to individuals who are capable (and intelligent enough) to properly care for a pet.
Desert Heat deadly for pets left alone in vehicles!
If you were cruising down the Vegas strip on Thursday, you probably caught sight of a throng of tourists and locals alike, perspiring profusely in the sweltering heat in a line that snaked down the street for blocks on end.
The folks were not anxious to snap up tickets for an upcoming headlining act.
On the contrary, die-hard souvenir-seekers were waiting patiently - sometimes upwards of three grueling hours - to gain entrance to a liquidation sale held at the Sahara Hotel which I reported on a couple of days ago.
As I noted in my previous report, the Sahara closed its doors to the public in May and is now in the process of clearing out the inventory - in some cases - at rock-bottom prices.
And, nostalgia buffs - a few practical types, too - are out to snap up a few collectibles if only for old time's sake.
After all, the Sahara Hotel was once a former haunt of the infamous "rat pack".
Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin - and a gang of swinging wannabees - once flocked to the glittering showcase in the heyday of Vegas when the "mob" ruled.
On Thursday, potential buyers paid $10.00 a pop
Within hours, beaming shoppers were later spied hauling out their spoils, with a smug look of satisfaction on their beaming faces tanned to perfection by the desert sun.
What was up for grabs?
Novel Camel Lamps - which once rested on night-stands in every suite in the once-chic Hotel - sold briskly 150 smackeroos.
Publicity stills of - Dean Martin, Elvis Presley, and the Beatles - were snapped up quickly, too.
"Even if the item is nailed down, it's for sale," one liquidator presiding over the event underscored in the event there were any doubts.
Meanwhile, items that could be dropped in a pocket or slipped into a take-home bag, were flying out of the Hotel left, right, and center.
For instance, lone poker chips were plucked up for two bucks, while single dinner plates were being wrapped up for five dollars a piece.
A King-size mattress - free of bed bugs, I hope - sold for $325.00.
The purchaser must have had a struggle wrestling that find out the front door, eh?
At press time, still dozens of little treasures were available on site, this week.
By the way, the liquidators have noted that there they will no longer be charging a fee into the fifth day of the sale, so budget-minded folks may want to bear that fact in mind.
The gargantuan sale continues for the next sixty days - when it is expected - that all the desirable primo items will have finally been snatched up and carried off to the four corners of the world.
Happy treasure hunting, eh?