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Frederick and Greenspun are STILL -- STILL!!! -- so figgin' clueless that they reveal more about themselves then they know in their columns.

Sherm's the nerdy idiot who truly thinks his bathroom wall stuff is funny; Brian's the smarmy rich son who rarely misses a chance to gush obsessively about his family and friends.

Meanwhile, readers (especially fairly new residents) scratch their heads at both men's emabarrasing ramblings.

Both of these guys are vestiges of Las Vegas past -- provincial, and small time. And, far too far away from retirement.

Oh, if we only had real newspapers in this town.

bmt is right on the money. Vegas continues to spill over its banks with growth, yet we wonder why we're treated like a second-rate burg when our primary industry specializes in booze, boobs and gambling. It's what we do best, yet we scratch our heads -- and Oscar, his big red nose -- wondering why the major professional sports leagues pooh-pooh us. Wondering why no one takes us seriously. As our stolen car rate skyrockets and our kids' scholastic achievements plummet. As the plantations on the Strip tell the hired help not to join in a historic protest against Draconian immigration laws -- as a show of strength, supposedly -- but in reality, so as not to deprive tourists of their free Miller Lites while playing the slots. As the line between haves and have-nots not only becomes increasingly defined, but quite literally rises from the desert floor and separates us behind gated walls and in ultra-chic high rise condos. And let's not even get started on G-sting, Neonopolis, the Criminal Justice Center or the Monorail. Just to name a few.

We have this chip on our shoulder which paradoxcially, we wear like a naughty badge of honor. So while we want to be taken seriously as a growing, supposedly thriving metro area and get the respect we believe we have justly earned, we continue to flaunt our wink-wink reputation. "We're a real city, we're becoming increasingly sophisticated -- so come on over, drink, get laid and have a good time." Into that mix we add the thoroughly asinine musings of Messrs. Frederick and Greenspun, and it makes me wonder: If the outside world doesn't take us seriously as we'd like, how can we expect those of us who live here to take us seriously? No wonder the Sun's circulation went in the toilet and the R-J's lags embarassingly far behind the rate of growth. (Could be we're all smarter than either "publisher" wants to let on.)

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