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"Lost in Lost Vegas\n       Anyone who spends any time with Chicken John is compelled to accept certain laws of serendipity -- \"Something will happen,\" \"Someone will show up with a thing,\" \"Sometimes the keys just fit,\" \"Chaos provides,\" \"Sham-a Lam-a\" -- so I was not altogether surprised that the very mention of his upcoming event, \"Lost Vegas,\" brought into my life a deluge of gambling, Rat Pack, and showgirl detritus. Not surprised that, after I helped remove the ace of spades from a case of 112 poker decks, I was seated on a commuter flight next to a woman dripping in ace-of-spades paraphernalia who proposed luck might be a flulike germ; not surprised that every time someone mentioned \"Lost Vegas\" on the road a Las Vegas bumper sticker cruised by; not surprised that a white-haired sprite at a garage sale pushed two feather boas into my hand for that \"showgirl moment\"; not surprised that, after noticing a billboard for a card room in San Bruno, I met a serious-faced old drunk who rattled off the attributes of nearly 50 such gambling establishments in the Bay Area; not surprised that Ron Hawking rolled into town from Chicago, with a show dedicated to Frank Sinatra; not surprised that the quote-of-the-week referred to chance as \"the pseudonym of God when He did not want to sign.\""^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://archives.sfweekly.com/sanfrancisco/night-crawler/Content?oid=2136584>