If I were prone to Trumpian flights of conspiracy fantasy, my paranoia would have been off the charts on Thursday night.

Goodman looks like a man born to be mayor of Las Vegas. His desk and floor-to-ceiling shelves are packed with memorabilia of the town, from life-sized showgirls to mayoral poker chips. It's public office, as designed by TGI Fridays.

With budgets cut to the bone, many museums are falling under, and many schools can't afford such fripperies as museum field trips. I don't know why the loss of a Liberace museum would make me sad, but it does.

Criss Angel's show is a disgrace and he should be ashamed of himself.

32 nights in 32 hotels; the finish line is so close I can almost bite it. Just one night still to go, at the Mandarin Oriental, and my month-and-a-bit in Las Vegas will be over.

There's probably no other city on earth in which a man wanting to stay an entire month would constitute headline news. How has 33 days in Las Vegas changed my opinion of the city?