LETTERS

Hey Benjamen,

What's up with the chick's right shoe on the cover? Is it supposed to be falling off? Looks kinda lame. In fact, every cover you do is lame.

Those individuals who have been receiving citations for various violations within the City of Las Vegas have been given the opportunity to perform community service and work their debt (fine) off at $5 an hour (less than minimum wage). Two community service workers that I spoke with told me that they're routinely subjected to rudeness and disrespect from the personnel at the Work Program Facility. They even hinted that favoritism is being shown when it comes to assigning jobs. One worker, who feels that she was a victim of this type of bias, told me that she was subjected to doing laundry at a local animal shelter where she had to wash endless piles of animal bedding that were completely covered with nasty, smelly dog feces and urine, which she did not enjoy doing one bit, especially, making only $5 an hour.

Another worker told me that she was forced to clean up human puke from around a casino in the Downtown area, and the putrid, rancid smell of it made her nauseated and despondent.

I feel that the city should increase the hourly pay scale for community service workers such as these two women, and give them job assignments that are equally and fairly assigned; after all, slave labor was banned in 1865 by the Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution of the United States of America, and it governs the treatment of community service workers in the City of Las Vegas, Nevada, as well.

Can you let me know where Brendan Bowyer of the Royal Irish Show Band is preforming during the weeks of November 16-December 6.

In his election-eve video message delivered to the Arab network al-Jazeera, terrorist chieftain Osama bin Laden brazenly depicted himself as the leader of a pan-Muslim "nation" and as an avenger of historic wrongs (whether real or fabricated) committed by the West. He gloated that it "has not been difficult to deal with the Bush administration," that it has been "easy for us to provoke and bait this administration," and that he and his comrades are "continuing this policy in bleeding America to the point of bankruptcy. ... And so it has appeared to some analysts and diplomats that the White House and us are playing on the same team ... even if the intentions differ."

Bin Laden laced his address with other provocative remarks, perhaps the most significant of which was a comment about "lectures at the Royal Institute of International Affairs" (RIIA). The RIIA is the British equivalent of the U.S. Council on Foreign Relations. My impression of the videotaped message is that bin Laden, far from being "marginalized" as President Bush insisted in early 2002, is healthy, well-informed, secure, canny and more dangerous than ever.

A recent Digital Tony column on the 40 Deuce burlesque prompted this impassioned response:

To quote you:

... 40 Deuce is a throwback to a sexy burlesque past. It looks like the type of back-alley strip joint Frank Sinatra and his cronies might've frequented ...

Yeah, until they heard the crass, raucous and ill-fitting beat of gangsta hip-hop in between shows ...

I can see the ghosts of Frank, Dean, Sammy Joey, and Peter without hesitation taking it under the arches as soon as they get an earful of "music" that has no place in what's supposed to be a purist retro joint. Let those tunes stay buried in the places that are best suited to that demographic, e.g. Bikinis, Rain, Body English, etc., etc. Enough already!

It's too bad—the place has so much potential. From its stellar LA-based reputation that fueled the pre-grand-opening hype, Forty Deuce billed itself as a classy, upscale, old-world joint, and captured our avid attention—and then blows it all by carelessly using a easy-out enticement that will attract what those of us who truly appreciate its intended purity are trying to be removed from.

It appears that the pop culture phenomenon best described by one popular nightclub's manager as "upscale hip-hop" (boy, if that isn't an oxymoron), has, once again, and with much dissapointment, infiltrated what should strive to stand in a class by itself instead of selling out to the masses in terms of the DJ's Top 40 venue. Example: You walk up to the velvet ropes and are cordially greeted by an obviously hand-picked, immaculate doorman and classy female host who VIP-usher you to the main entrance, at which point another doorman, equally well-dressed, nods his head in acceptance of your presence by opening the door to the joint, and suddenly you're enveloped with a blast of old-school charm, feeling the intimacy of a compact but lavish venue, and expect to be entertained as well as see and be seen amongst your fellow A-listers—or so you'd think. You enjoy a good 20 minutes or so of female burlesque and outstanding sax solos, and feel quite confident you're at the epicenter of Vegas hip and cool. As you're ordering a round of drinks, you're abruptly aurally assaulted and thrown in the opposite direction with the lyrics "... move, bitch, get out the way, get out the way ..." Whatthef**k?! See my point?

Please tell Ivan Kane to whack that DJ yesterday—or save the bullets and shovels and simply just change the DJ's music venue! I'd like Forty Deuce to have a chance to shine on its own merits as a class act for those of us who really know what real class, Vegas glam and burlesque is (or was) all about ...