For those of you who skipped the last paragraph due to its sepia tone (or already knowing all that stuff, my darling Vegas posters), I'll summarize: Steve Wynn was like a badass Vegas version of Caleb Nichol. The other thing I found out is that this whole dumb idea of Tim and Tom even opening a club outside of the Strip was actually started by Wynn, with the Golden Nugget itself. Vegas had gotten tacky and excessive, and he decided to bring class back into it, probably talking the late seventies equivalent of that "tiki lounge old-school elegance vibe" talk, by making the Nugget all ritzy and shit and buying Sinatra to sing there and all this stuff. Which is nice, because it means Tim and Tom have about one and a third less thumbs up their collective ass than I thought, since it has been done before. Steve Wynn would have been like, "I hear you, brother," if he heard Tim talking about the volcanoes and the pirate ships. So now when we're in the Steve Wynn suite at the Golden Nugget, respect. Of course, R.I.C.O. and S.U.A.V.E. don't see it my way, and they're totally dining out on the Nugget's dime and not giving the Steve Wynn suite its props. I'm totally naming my house the Steve Wynn Suite. Wearing bathrobes and with the goofy music of old men at play, they eat and eat and talk with their mouths full. They laugh about the management's attempts to make them gamble, imitating Tim: "Johnny, ya gotta leave, ya gotta go, ya gotta blah blah blah," they laugh. "That's funny." And it is. They're so cute!