(New York Post)
The Primm family is making a desperate public plea to save the gambling resorts at the California-Nevada border, which are scheduled to close. The properties sit on one of the most trafficked stretches of highway in the American West.
Listen. I have pulled into Primm on a 108 degree afternoon after four hours of California traffic and immediately put twenty dollars in a slot machine while still wearing sunglasses. That is not a man with a gambling problem. That is a man who understands ceremony.
And now the whole thing is apparently dying.
The Primm family is out here making desperate pleas to save those border casinos and I do not think the general public understands the gravity of what we are about to lose. This is not some regional strip mall closing. This is the last outpost before the desert swallows you whole. This is the place where you stop, refuel, watch a guy in a tank top lose three hundred dollars on video poker at 11am, and feel genuinely good about your life choices.
Primm is not glamorous. Not even close. That is the entire point.
Vegas has the Bellagio. Primm has a rollercoaster that looks like it was assembled in 1994 and never inspected. It is perfect. It is American. Losing it would be a genuine cultural crime that nobody will treat like a genuine cultural crime, which is somehow the most on-brand ending imaginable.
Godspeed, Primm. You smelled like cigarettes and gas station hot dogs and I loved every second of it.
