We weren’t bad kids in my youth, but we were inescapably identified by the adages that most people in middle-20th-century Las Vegas led their lives by: birds of a feather and guilt by association.
There are only two kinds of people: those who wear purses and those who don’t. The former are called women.
Because of vanity and machismo, men don’t carry purses. The rare men who need to tote their earthly belongings use briefcases, backpacks and attache cases.
Clearly upset that the Adams State Grizzlies had scored another touchdown and were starting to rub it in, Art Abreu, a tight-ends coach and play-by-play sportscaster for the Highlands Cowboys, asked on the air why such demonstrations are tolerated.
Partly by accident, partly by design, a few days ago, I went penniless with my wife on a flight to Seattle for a six-day visit with our son Stan. I vowed to handle all my business on plastic. I didn’t even take a checkbook, given that fewer and fewer places even accept checks anymore. One person bounces a $10 check at a local restaurant and everybody else suffers.