I know, I know. But I don’t make the rules, I just follow ’em.
Mike Weatherford
David Copperfield doesn’t need much advertising to fill 650 seats in the MGM Grand’s Hollywood Theatre. But the lack of ballyhoo means that only the bad news goes national.
The laughs return to Palace Station, where the enclosed lounge reverts to stand-up comedy after tabling a big expansion into a country nightclub.
Raise a glass to the twisted visionaries. It may be a long time before we see the likes of them again.
Entertainers sprinkling shows with holiday cheer.
It could be time for the “showroom shuffle,” a game of musical chairs that might see “Stomp Out Loud” replace the lamentable “Fuego Raw Talent” at the Sahara.
You can almost count theater gigs in dog years. “In our business, the average length of a run is six weeks,” says Derrick Trumbly.
Can Madonna fight Oscar De La Hoya? Why not? She’s cut, he’s cut up, and MGM Mirage shareholders would love to see these two MGM Grand Garden arena draws again in 2009.
Game shows on the Strip are a lot like news on the Internet: a match made in heaven, until you try to get someone to pay.
When Las Vegas comedians get together for lunch, they must talk about really funny stuff, right? Must be like the Algonquin Round Table, or at least the Friars Club when Uncle Miltie still was around.
Not too long ago, the director of “Criss Angel Believe” had some words of wisdom, which I now repurpose as a Thanksgiving-weekend family entertainment tip:
Entertainment has returned to the Silverton, but don’t get too used to where you find it.
If Donn Arden were alive he’d love this idea, love what we’re planning,” says Jerry Mitchell.
Going to see a hypnotist is a lot like buying a ticket for a football game. You know the rules, but not the outcome.