GQ profiles what is likely the top-grossing nightclub in the world, Marquee in Las Vegas. It sounds awful to me, but at the same time, I’ve never held “a bottle between [my] legs and in great thrusting motions [sprayed] a $1,000 magnum of Dom PÃ©rignon while below [me] women opened their mouths to receive [my] gilded French ejaculate.” I don’t know. I guess I’d try it once.
Part of the branding concept at Marquee is: Overwhelm the guest. And when we walked into that main room, we were indeed overwhelmed. Like it physically drew the air from our lungs and then replaced it with something that felt and tasted like vaporized Red Bull. The room had no visible ceiling. It was a clamshelly cavern of a place that glowed reddish and pulsed, with a dance floor at its focal point, layers of bottle-service tables perched around it, and a forty-foot LED screen above the DJ stage. The sound system cost $1.5 million and was built to rock a space as big as Madison Square Garden. Facing the speaker arrays was like walking into a strong headwind.
As a bonus, here’s a profile of the guy from Tampa who says he invented the lap dance.
Jon Ronson went out and profiled 5 people who have an income separated by a multiple of about 5. He spoke with someone making $200 a week, $900 a week, $5K a week, $25K a week, $125K a week, and $625K a week. Surprisingly, only the person making $625K a week was angry about the politics surrounding income inequality. Worth a read. The person making $125K a week thinks more needs to be done.
There’s something unusual about Nick. For a multimillionaire, he doesn’t have your average multimillionaire view. In fact, he’s come to believe that the system he benefits so richly from is built on nonsenseâ€”specifically, the idea that “the markets are perfectly efflcient and allocate benefits and burdens perfectly efflciently, based on talent and merit. So by that definition, the rich deserve to be rich and the poor deserve to be poor. We believe this because we have an almost insanely powerful need to self-justify.”
Wells Tower spent a week with porn star James Deen, and the resulting profile is interesting and full of flowery descriptions.
“There’s no more ambient prurience than you’d find at an ad shoot for Windex.”
“He is not the traditional porno man, no overbulked squat-thruster spray-broasted from the Darque Tan booth.”
“That Deen’s very ordinariness is somehow a virtue in the industry is, one could argue, a symptom of pornography’s journey from unsanitary movie theaters and paper-windowed bookstores to every computer screen the free world over.”
Here’s GQ taking a whack at the ‘dumbing down of Hollywood‘ genre of articles. I’m pretty sure that I’ve seen this type of paragraph to describe what movies are coming out, and the GQ article has TWO of them!
With that in mind, let’s look ahead to what’s on the menu for this year: four adaptations of comic books. One prequel to an adaptation of a comic book. One sequel to a sequel to a movie based on a toy. One sequel to a sequel to a sequel to a movie based on an amusement-park ride. One prequel to a remake. Two sequels to cartoons. One sequel to a comedy. An adaptation of a children’s book. An adaptation of a Saturday-morning cartoon. One sequel with a 4 in the title. Two sequels with a 5 in the title. One sequel that, if it were inclined to use numbers, would have to have a 7 1/2 in the title.
In modern Hollywood, it usually takes two years, not one, for an idea to make its way through the alimentary canal of the system and onto multiplex screens, so we should really be looking at summer 2012 to see the fruit of Nolan’s success. So here’s what’s on tap two summers from now: an adaptation of a comic book. A reboot of an adaptation of a comic book. A sequel to a sequel to an adaptation of a comic book. A sequel to a reboot of an adaptation of a TV show. A sequel to a sequel to a reboot of an adaptation of a comic book. A sequel to a cartoon. A sequel to a sequel to a cartoon. A sequel to a sequel to a sequel to a cartoon. A sequel to a sequel to a sequel to a sequel to a movie based on a young-adult novel.
Brian Burke is a big name in NHL. His son’s recent death in car accident, soon after coming out, has turned him in to a very powerful advocate for gay athletes:
Mostly, though, he doesn’t want to believe he’s the worst possible person for the job that Brendan started, but he knows it’s true. He’s built a career on not blowing sunshine up his own ass and pretending he’s good at something he’s not. He knows that everything he needs now, to carry this water for Brendan, he doesn’t have. Brendan had it, the poise and natural charm, the easy passage between two worlds. Brendan was perfect for the job. Brendan went first. Now he has to go second.