Three Kings

People love to chat about royalty.  Thus, I will opt to do the same.

Batting first: King James a.k.a. LeBron James.

King James

You can’t deny the man’s talent, but he has unjustifiably spent his entire NBA career basking in a seemingly impeccable media image.  Alas, the “King” has finally exposed his dark side, first by disregarding all notions of sportsmanship by not shaking his opponents’ hands upon losing in the conference finals then supposedly confiscating a video of him being dunked on by a college sophomore.

Someone tell the NBA’s supposed golden-child to show some class.  Everyone fails at some point, LeBron.  It is the natural order of life.  People will fall short, people will get dunked on, and people will lose games.  Jordan even made a commercial to flaunt his failure.  Over the past few years, I’ve contracted diabetes from all the overly positive media portrayals of LeBron and it’s time people see the “King” for what he really is.  He may be the best player in the league but people need to stop trying to paint him as this flawless immortal delivered to the NBA by God.

Second up: the King of Pop a.k.a Michael Jackson.

King Of Pop

For the greater part of my early high school years, I idolized this man, making a concentrated effort to watch the “You Rock My World” video over and over while imitating his dance moves during basketball practice.  But aside from that brief window of time where I was merely an uncoordinated Chinese kid desperately learning how to dance, I’ve known MJ in a mostly negative light for the majority of my life.

Admittedly, a childhood obsession with the Captain EO show at Disneyland was as close as I got to really knowing Michael Jackson in his prime, so my ability to form my own opinions of the man is shoddy.  Thus, I question why I’ve had a predominantly negative impression of Michael during my lifetime, as it was only upon his passing did I finally hear people and the media alike speak positively of him.  If he was as great of a person and as great of an entertainer as people have been saying, then such praise and admiration should not have come posthumously.  It shouldn’t have taken his death for people to finally voice their appreciation for Michael and his work.

Lastly: the King Of Spades, which serves no purpose for any actual discussion but simply acts as a figurehead for much more grand discourse involving my ponderings on the city of Las Vegas.

Las Vegas: Wherein Resides The King Of Spades

This past weekend marked my SIXTH trip to Vegas since turning 21, a number I don’t think I came close to hitting in the years prior.  Vegas was once a city that I idolized for its buffets.  The narrow scope of my childhood psyche didn’t see beyond the mound of cocktail shrimp and crab legs at the Bellagio.  There were no craps tables, there was no Tao or XS, and there was no yard-long margarita.  Just buffets.

Unfortunately, the age of 21 has taken the blinders off, allowing Vegas to evolve into a sinful playground of expensive, guilty pleasures.  With that said, I’ve decided that rather than resist it, I’ll settle for embracing Sin City for what it is and continue to excessively make my way there for the next 5-10 years.  After that time, hopefully this blog will still be around for me to voice about how I’ve outgrown Vegas or my 30 year old salary will be sufficient enough to support even more extravagant outings.  Either way, I’ll be satisfied.

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