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I went Downtown twice today.

Once to hang out with a buddy in his room at the Golden Gate, and again to check out the first day ever of the new Downtown Farmer’s Market.

It was nice and quiet on Fremont this morning, and on my way home I plugged a quick $5 into a nickel slot at Binion’s, then walked away five dollars lighter.

It’s a slot machine, what are you going to do?  Curse yourself for not playing proper strategy?

The slot giveth, and the slot taketh away.  Today it did the latter.

After my morning meeting, I headed back Downtown again this afternoon for the Farmer’s Market.  Technically, the market doesn’t start until next Friday … this was just a dry run with a handful of vendors.

I’ve always been a fan of Farmer’s Markets.  I’ve always gone to them in whatever city I lived, and I always wished that Central Las Vegas would have one.  I finally got my wish.  I will no doubt do a large amount of shopping here, and I am looking forward to the larger version next week.

“Rex, we’re tourists.  We don’t give a damn about your Farmer’s Market.  We have those in our town”.

Fair enough.

I will not bore you with the details of what I ate and bought.  I will say that it was good, and I encourage every local within the sound of my Internet voice to come down and support the market to ensure its continued existence.   It will also get more folks over to Fremont East, and perhaps spur some more activity in the eastern corridor.

The food notwithstanding, what I enjoyed most about the afternoon was the minor camaraderie that occurs whenever we get any kind of event going Downtown.  I’ve already gone over in fine detail about how Las Vegas is an outright weird place, and here again the Farmer’s Market did not disappoint in helping to showcase that.

As a matter of fact, I made a new friend:

Now, people’s natural inclination when they watch this video will be that I am making fun of this guy or holding him up to ridicule.  I am not.  I like this guy.  If I see him, I will talk to him again.  He saw my camera, and chased me across Fremont to ask me to take a picture of him.  He was aware that I was rolling the whole time.

I made the movie because it is a fun little “slice of Downtown Vegas life”, and I figured it may give someone a smile or brighten up someone’s day.  I also post it to illustrate that the majority of our street population are people with hopes, dreams, and quirks just like you and I.

“But, Rex, people like this are obviously crazy and need help!  They are a danger to themselves!”

If you really want to save people, stand outside pharmacies and fast food joints as one suburban SUV after another picks up their Prozac and heads to the McDonald’s drive-thru.  Those folks are a bigger danger to themselves than this guy will ever be.

“But, but, he’s clearly delusional!”

Fair enough.

Is the guy really going to Memphis to be a star?  Probably not.

But the candidate that you actively campaigned for doesn’t really care about you, Paris Hilton doesn’t really matter, and there is no invisible guy in the sky watching you take a dump.  Oh yeah, he isn’t helping your Alma Mater score touchdowns either.

86% of Americans actively believe in people/things for which there is absolutely no empirical evidence.  We fight wars because our imaginary friends are superior to the imaginary friends of others.

Some people truly believe that New York City is going to be underwater in ten years because their neighbor drives a jeep and leaves his TV on all night.

That fact is … everyone reading this is delusional.  You and everyone you know.  We all are.  Each and every one of us is batshit crazy in our own way.  You can deny it all you want, but I completely guarantee that you, personally, are nuts.

It is very common for me to stop and talk to our “street” population. If they are not violent and are not actively trying to kill me, I often stop to hear what they have to say.  Even if it is a simple request for “spare change”.  Sometimes I get into discussions with them.

I don’t consider them crazy. I consider them human. The majority of my neighbors would be considered clinically insane by DSM IV standards, but I submit that they are not.  They just see things differently.

In “our world” handing out $1.7 Billion to private banks and allowing state-run, publicly traded monopolies to charge whatever they want makes perfect sense.  It is considered “normal” in America to plop your ass in front of a TV, watch American Idol, and repeatedly bang away at your cellphone to vote for these rigged singing contests.

It is perfectly “normal” for people to gather around a large screen and root for “their team”.  What do you get if “your” team wins?  Not a damn thing.

Every Sunday, tens of millions of Americans gather in large buildings and worship a guy who’s mother was inseminated by an invisible ghost and who later arose from the dead … yet refuses to reveal himself as some kind of “faith test”.

And most people find this to be perfectly sane behavior.

Face it, the “average” American is just as delusional as any street person will ever be.  I could make a valid and logistically sound argument that we are more delusional.

For better or worse, I am as close to this guy as I am some pencil pusher rocking a 9 to 5. Hell, in ten years, I’ll probably be this guy.

Also, you may or may not agree … but the guy actually does have a good voice.  I’m not lying.  If it was between this guy, Shitney Spears, and any boy band ever created … I would plunk down the cash for this guy’s CD.  Put some instruments behind him, add a small amount of reverb, and you have a legitimate tune.  Most of the people who will point and laugh at this guy probably have no discernible talent of their own, and my new homey probably doesn’t care anyway.

While I may poke good-natured fun at street folks, as I do absolutely everyone, you will probably never hear me seriously refer to them in derogatory terms.  Most of them are just as worthy of your time as is any random person in a suit that you encounter … such as timeshare drones.

As a matter of fact, I actively encourage you all to interact with some of our local street folks the next time you are in town.  Of course, don’t endanger yourself.  Do so in a group and when it is well-lit, but if you see some guy dressed in funny clothing or holding a bizarre sign … by all means … stop and talk to him.

You might just be glad you did.

Last but not least, don’t pay this guy $10 to park.  It’s a scam.  The El Cortez lets you park free to attend the Farmer’s Market.

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