Vegas, Baby, Vegas.
Apparently there ARE other things to do in Vegas besides play poker and ogle the fake breasts of women who believe that Lucite "goes with everything" and can rattle off the operational hours of Beach Bum Tans by heart.
Namely ... celebrate your 2nd amendment freedoms by shooting the crap out of paper targets. I picked one that looked like a white rapist/mugger/grandmother-beater, but you had an option of various other villains as well (like Osama, Saddam ... uh ... basically, a bunch of turbaned dudes).
Anyway, it seemed like more fun than getting skin cancer and/or blinking back tears of boredom watching card games. That is, of course, until I actually had to shoot the damn thing. I've never been so freaked out in my life; every time the guy next to me would fire his (very live) gun, I'd jump about eight feet in the air. And when I shot my own, I teared up a little. Something about the power to actually annihilate animals/people/small children just does that to me.
Anyway, below see photographic evidence of my foray into Red-States-Win mode. I actually shot with a Glock, but I thought that posing with an ... whatever this enormous killing machine is called below ... would look much more Die Hard-esque.
And yeah, I was the only one in the store wearing a pink "Puppy Love" tee. Shocking, right?