It has become the ultimate cliche, a swollen self-parody of itself. But it's still the ultimate Hall of Fame male bonding place. That's why we went in June. And in July. And now in August. And we'll be back again.
And maybe in a few years we'll be sitting at that Saturday buffet talking about our wives, kids, and mortgages, but at least we'll still be laughing and busting each other's chops like always.
Vegas, baby.
Vegas.
