Date: 08\/17\/2012<\/p>\n
Vegas is packed with people who play it safe in life, then blow all their hard-earned cash into the mouths of machines that light up like a lover\u2019s eyes, mid-climax. Then there\u2019s the sound of Vegas: all that beeping and squealing, bizarrely resembling orgasm after mechanical orgasm. As long as you keep caressing those sensitive slots with money shots, it never stops.<\/p>\n
Vegas-style gambling is a Weapon of Mass Seduction. Personally, I prefer to place my bets on my own relatively high-risk work and play: my amazing 20-year marriage that most folks said wouldn\u2019t last, my unconventional sex therapy practice, my uncategorizable show and my belief in ethical hedonism and the Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure. The odds of winning the kind of \u201cgames\u201d I like to play are riskier than black jack, and the path to victory is a minefield littered with losers, lovers, foes and friends who trip your every step. But the joy is in the playing\u2014in doing it, as the great gambler Sinatra sang, \u201cMy Way.\u201d And every so often, if you play long, hard and \u201cmy way\u201d enough, with a little help from Lady Luck, you might win.<\/p>\n
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