Even I Saw Elvis

Today is Elvis' birthday so it gives me a legitimate excuse to disconnect my arthritic hips to the beat of "Viva Las Vegas", not surprisingly my all time favorite Presley song. In the early 1970s I led a quasi-debauched snake eyes existence, as all future television executives invariably do, and morphed in and out of Vegas more often than the New Jersey mob. The boy from Tupelo, Mississippi was still several years away from his morbidly fascinating appearance as the beached Hindenberg. I saw him six times in two years at the Hilton where he always gave a sweat filled, wild eyed, swivel-hipping, karate chopping, kick assing performance.

But when I truly want to reminisce about my life in Vegas during the 1970s, I close the windows, draw the blinds and relax with my fiber bars and warm milk and play ever so softly this rendition of "Viva Las Vegas.