But it’s a dry civilizational collapse.
Last week I flew to Las Vegas to play in “The Main” - the signature event of the World Series of Poker, where players put down $10,000 to seek a first prize that this year is $12.1 million.
The tournament is still going, without me. I finished about 1600th of the 10,043 players, just short of the money line. (I didn’t spend $10,000, I won my way in for $430, so I didn’t feel so bad.)
Outside, the temperatures were close to 110, not that anyone at the tables would know. The Las Vegas Strip is among earth’s most engineered environments, a four-mile stretch of gambling palaces that keep the heat out and the money in. It is almost a shock to walk a few blocks from the Strip and see desert sand in the empty lots waiting to become hotels.
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