Cross-species metamorphosis

This could only happen in Lost Wages, right?

Vegas is despicable because it’s a place where ants become grasshoppers. You know the parable: the ant works all summer while the grasshopper screws off. When it’s time for winter, the ant has food and the grasshopper has none. Most of us would like to believe that we are the ants of the parable, not the grasshoppers. We drive used cars, we have a budget, we plan and invest and scrimp and save. Then we accompany a friend to Vegas to celebrate his second marriage and we leave $5,000 poorer. Nobody ever brings anything home from that city. Your bags and your wallet lose weight; the flight home occurs in a sort of subdued greyscale haze.

You may recall the tale of the chap who arrived in Vegas in a $2,000 econobox and departed in a $40,000 bus.

I don’t think of myself as sufficiently abstemious for proper anthood, but I have a great deal of trouble imagining myself as a grasshopper.



  1. fillyjonk »

    3 November 2016 · 10:52 am

    If there’s a yarn shop somewhere in the town, I could probably manage to bring something home from Vegas. (I hate gambling and probably would spend five minutes on the penny slots before going “Meh, I’m done, for the rest of my life.”)

    I also think of the local casino, and the student of mine who commented of the Native population that runs it: “We took their land. Now they are winning it back from us, acre by acre.”

  2. CGHill »

    3 November 2016 · 3:08 pm

    A perfunctory Binging of “las vegas yarn shop” produced five immediate results, only one of which was Hobby Lobby.

    This name did elicit a smile.

  3. fillyjonk »

    3 November 2016 · 5:02 pm

    Yeah, that one looks like a proper yarn shop. (Unlike Hobby Lobby)

  4. In The Mailbox: 11.03.16 : The Other McCain »

    3 November 2016 · 8:36 pm

    […] Dustbury: Cross-Species Metamorphosis […]

  5. McG »

    4 November 2016 · 7:50 am

    I can’t see myself wanting to go to Las Vegas unless I had to attend some event or other — a contingency not anticipated on any grounds I can imagine — and if I did and had time to waste, attractions other than gambling certainly abound these days.

    It’s not even as if I’d have to go all that way to gamble, and my gambling system is, once my designated gambling fund is depleted, I’m done — unless I’m winning, in which case I only risk what I’ve won, or (if I’ve been doing really well) some portion of the winnings.

    As a rule it makes for a fairly brief visit to the slots, but ohhhhh, the exceptions!

    Problem gamblers appeal to the law of averages when losing, and to its opposite (“I’m on a roll!”) when winning. That’s why no one except Donald Trump has ever gone bankrupt as a casino owner.

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