What is Las Vegas?

 

God help me, but I went there again.  As I make this confession I'm inspired to ask myself--and you by implication--why did I do so?  That would seem to be a question which must be asked of any person who isn't a gambler and isn't even mildly interested in gambling, like myself.  An argument can be made that only those who enjoy gambling should go there.

Las Vegas is a city, yes.  It has many of the characteristics of one, in any case.  But it isn't a city in any normal sense.  It isn't a place where someone lives.  It's a place someone goes to; it's a destination.  There's an expectation that one doesn't stay in Vegas indefinitely.  There's a sense that people who go there will leave, when enough is, as they say, enough.

It's reminiscent of Disneyworld, I would say, though it isn't nearly as ubiquitously branded and isn't owned by a single entity omnipotent in its own domain.  Perhaps it was when it was largely a Mob operation.  Now, though, it isn't though one can see that the powers operating MGM and others have begun to expand their sway over what were once rival hotels and casinos.  But Vegas intends, at least, to provide an appearance of variety lacking in places like Disneyworld.  Self-contained miniatures of Rome, Venice, Paris and other places are on display and open for business, and they succeed in appearing distinct from one another, though not necessarily by accurately copying the real places they purport to be.  They're the same in having casinos, however.

Their mimicry of actual places can be vulgar, it must be said.  But the vulgarity is amusing and even striking.  Caesar's Palace delights me in a strange way, as its vast faux Roman buildings, fountains and forums reminds us of what was vulgar in ancient Rome itself, when the mob was being placated and narcissists and madmen like Nero and Caligula were emperors and devoted themselves to their own glorification.  I don't follow Henry James in thinking that Roman structures were vulgar merely because they were large, however.  Spectacles were important in ancient Rome, and bread and circuses were among the few things available for those not rich and powerful to enjoy without cost.  James was never much concerned with anyone among the "common herd." Vegas is like Rome as it provides spectacles of all kinds and is itself a kind of spectacle.

There's something very American about it.  Other cities and places around the world are rendered into places which can be enjoyed by Americans at a single location, without any of the unfamiliar and disturbing aspects Americans encounter when leaving America (foreign ways, looks, language and currency).

It's not a place which will impress Puritans or Progressives.  It will more likely concern them.  But the delights provided are typically American and are not such as to cause too much concern.  Good food, good drink, good shows, some sex of a kind and in an amount which will not shock Middle-Americans, and money to be made.

It's an American Dream.

A Vulgar Time

"Vulgar" is a word with a very broad meaning.  It has Latin origins, and in those origins denotes a mob or common folk.  It can mean unsophisticated, crude, offensive, undeveloped, ostentatious, excessive, and ordinary.  A most useful adjective..

Thucydides complains that "so little pains do the vulgar take in the investigation of truth, accepting readily the first story that comes to hand."  The word "vulgar" as it appears in that complaint has several of the meanings noted, and the complaint itself seems particularly apt to our time.

The picture above is of a part of the Las Vegas strip, and was taken by your charming and delightful old Uncle Ciceronianus during a visit to that ridiculous but amusing place into which have been dumped absurd facsimiles of an Egyptian pyramid, the Eiffel Tower, a Roman arena, a statute of the Emperor Augustus and much more.  Personally, I can't think of it as offensive though I'm sure some do.  But it's certainly vulgar in various ways and so graces this post.  Its vulgarity is of a piece with our time, as excess and ostentation abound among those who've made vast sums of money, from the commonest entertainer to sport stars (also entertainers, when you think of it) and those who manipulate our politics or are politicians, most especially our supremely vulgar president.

As for offensiveness and crudity, they're clearly on display everywhere.  Those characteristics are typical of what passes as public debate in our Great Republic.  We seem eager to offend when offering an opinion or responding to one, or to a person or event.  We even find it offensive to have to do so.  We're particularly incensed by anyone who thinks differently than we do or looks different from us, and feel free if not compelled to say so.  We resent the very idea that we should not speak our mind in the most offensive manner possible.  Thus the current contempt for "political correctness."

Thucydides' complaint is strikingly applicable to our time, I would say.  There is no effort to investigate whether something is or is not true, and acceptance of the first thing we hear, or read, is commonplace among us--provided, of course, that it's agreeable to us.  How else would it be possible for people to believe what they believe, for people to do what they do, here in God's favorite country?

But our time is vastly different from that of Thucydides in that what comes to hand, for us, is so much, and comes to all of us so easily and constantly due to our technology.  We've begun to learn that there are those who take advantage of that technology to provide us with falsities which appeal to us and by which we're manipulated, but being vulgar may take no real notice this is the case in so many instances.  We think what we think and why shouldn't we?  What right has anyone to tell us otherwise?

Those who are offensive readily take offense, and when offended they're crude in their response.  So we revile those we disagree with rather than respond to them.  Our response to those we disagree with consist of ad hominems and nothing more.

What comes after vulgarity?

Encountering Las Vegas

I had avoided Las Vegas a long time.  Virtually everyone I know has been there at one time or another, and have returned to it.  But it held no attraction for me.  I have no interest in gambling; it seems unreasonable to engage in a pastime which is ultimately for the benefit of the house.  The shows seemed for the most part indifferent at best.  The stars who perform there are not favorites of mine. 

But it was inevitable, I suppose, that I would get there.  Now I can say, when asked (and I am, often enough) that I have indeed been to Vegas.

Some of those who've felt it necessary to explain their enjoyment of the place claim that it is an excellent venue in which to watch people.  Perhaps it is, if that is what is to be done.  But I think people in Chicago and New York are more interesting if one wants to observe.  Watching people in Vegas is much like watching people in Disneyworld.  Of course, it's often claimed that Las Vegas is a kind of adult Disneyworld, or an adult theme park.  Circus Circus, festooned with creepy clowns, plays into that I suppose.  The clowns are a mistake, I think.  Their very presence would keep me from staying there or even visiting it.  It would be difficult for me to retain any kind of self-respect in such a place.

I was there but a short time, and could not see all that's there to see, but I must admit that what I saw was overwhelming.  The extravagance inspires something approaching awe.  How, one asks oneself, and why, did we human beings create such a place?  The size of the resorts with their casinos is most imposing, indeed sometimes staggering.  I didn't visit them all, but wandered about the Wynn, the Bellagio, the Venetian, the Mirage, and Caesar's Palace.  I remembered Henry James' comment when viewing Roman ruins, something to the effect that people who could build nothing small were as unimpressive as those who could build nothing large.  Henry was something of a schlemiel, I think, but size does weigh on the soul after a time.

Perhaps appropriately, the most extravagant, excessive resort I saw was Caesar's Palace.  The place is colossal, filled with stores, restaurants, bars, faux Roman statuary, fountains, symbols, not to mention the casino.  I couldn't help but wonder if the planners of the resort had Nero's Golden House in mind when it was built.  It wouldn't be surprising if that emperor, who pretended to be an artist though mocked by the Arbiter of Elegance, Petronius, built his Domus Aurea to be much the same kind of place.  Replicas of the famous statue of Augustus are everywhere.  One large replica stands at the entrance from the Strip.  The first Roman emperor seems to be gesturing serenely to the large mock hot air balloon emblazoned with the word "Paris" across the way.  It stands next to the mock Eiffel Tower, which in turn is next to the mock Arc de Triomphe on which the visage of Gordon Ramsey is displayed.

The carnival-type barkers who accost you along the strip are annoying, especially those trying to hand you cards on which young women in skimpy outfits appear.  Somewhat more surprising to see was the gentleman laying on the sidewalk, surrounded by yellow-uniformed police on bicycles.  I hope it wasn't a heart attack, and that he was merely flat out drunk.

Las Vegas is, in fact, a very good place to eat and drink, as it is possible to do so quite well, and I confess I enjoy doing both well.  The buffets the big hotels put on are famous, and I attended one which had such a variety of food in such abundance that it would make Trimalchio cringe with shame.

What I feel about Las Vegas is that it is a ridiculous place, truly absurd, but there is a kind of magnificence to its absurdity.  Absurdity can be amusing when it isn't taken seriously.  It's as if a group of people got together and decided to create a vast joke-city exhibiting the most excessive caricatures of famous landmarks and art humanity has constructed and crafted over thousands of years, where people could gather to laugh at the joke while eating good food and drinking good booze.  No doubt this speaks to the decadent in me, but I liked it.  And yes, like a tipsy MacArthur, I shall return to laugh again.