Hey, Mike! What’s That?

May 21st, 2007  |  Published in etc, pictures and photography  |  1 Comment

Glad you asked!

Sadly, I do not know the answer and am too lazy to look it up, so I’ll tell you what I’ve named it. It’s The Wall of Asses at Mandalay Bay. Probably it’d be more accurately named “The Wall of Boobs and Asses at Mandalay Bay,” but boooooob doesn’t have the punch of ass.

Ass! Ass! Ass!

Feel that staccato punch? Rat-a-tat-tat!

The Wall of Asses!

I have isolated a number of behaviors you can engage in while passing the Wall of Ass:

  1. You can ignore it. Most popular by far. There’s a 20-foot-tall wall with illuminated asses and boobies buried in it, arranged to imply some sort of creepy “graveyards layered over graveyards” setup, so I better ignore it.

  2. You can look at it but offer no comment at all. Not many people go this way. Most people taking this option seem sort of furtive. Wouldn’t do to linger overlong on the Wall of Asses, lest you get made as a leering perv, or someone from Choice 3:

  3. You can stand in front of it giggling, then have your picture taken in front of it. That triggered a few incidences of reaction 4:

  4. You can stand off to the side sneering at the people giggling at the perfectly normal 20-foot-tall wall with illuminated asses and boobies embedded in it. Yokels! Haven’t they ever seen this sort of art in whatever benighted little Iowa burg they’ve driven here from?

  5. You can sit quietly on a bench-like rock thoughtfully placed across the way from the Wall of Asses and take pictures from the hip with a carefully neutral look on your face, so’s not to invite judgement from the sophisticates who know better than to think anything at all of a twenty-foot-tall wall of illuminated boobs and asses.

Back to the burial motif … ugh … creepy.

Like someone dismembered a bunch of people (or perhaps like someone liberated a bunch of asses and boobies from their bodies) and stuck them in the dirt with those little “Japanese garden” solar-powered walkway lights you can get at Home Depot.

I don’t have the time or energy to try to turn this into some kind of “See!? That’s what’s wrong with Vegas!” thing, because that’s not what’s wrong with Vegas. If all this place had to answer for was gratuitous and vulgar ass art tucked into the less well travelled corridors connecting its conference centers and food courts, nobody would want to come here. And there’d be something wrong with every mid-size metropolis that ever coughed up money to some hack with a yen for stainless steel cubes or curiously deformed and jagged implications of winged creatures.

“Hey, man! What are you making?”

“Oh, it’s just a public sculpture of some gangly waterfowl made out of rusty rebar … and children.”

“Huh. That’s neat … the children … their lips are pulled back from their teeth in what appears to be severe pain … or maybe they’re baring their teeth at the giant rebar birds? And their teeth are very well defined, I might add.”

“Thanks.”

“What do you call it?”

“The City Builds a Monument to Its Sadness.”

“Cool.”

So anyhow … “Las Vegas: Day Two” or whatever alternate title you’d prefer.

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  1. Today’s Sign of the (Impending) Apocalypse » nerdmeyr & K says:

    June 1st, 2008 at 1:00 pm (#)

    […] As Mike says, “I don’t have the time or energy to try to turn this into some kind of “See!? That ” Indeed, I would add, Vegas is the bravely pointed weeping-opening-above-the-skin of our […]

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