A commentator yesterday compared our fancy new theatre to a strip club. Hmmm. I’m no architectural critic, but, if we have a strip club than we need some strippers.

It’s a tossup which is sexier — the way Viva Las Vegas exposes her body, or the way she exposes her mind. Both are pretty damn impressive. With her wicked sense of humor and the sharpened skills of her pen, Las Vegas defies the notion that all strippers are bubbleheaded twits. At night, the graduate of Williams College in Massachusetts sheds her clothes at Magic Garden; by day, she edits the local sex-trade publication Exotic; and in between, she slaves away on her book detailing her life as an exotic dancer. Her “I Y Las Vegas” column in Exotic dispenses words of wisdom to other dancers, while waxing philosophic about life and the universe.

This seems to be the column in question. Written by an Eph? We report, you decide.

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