"I saw her today at the reception ..." The pure, wistful opening bars of the Stones float across the Las Vegas South Point Arena, a vast indoor oval, with banks of seats around a floor, a walkway above, all of them slowly filling with people, from a dozen doors. There are pictures of horses all around and ads for stuff featuring pictures of horses, and it suddenly becomes clear that it's an actual goddamn arena, where they have actual horse shows. Triumphalism or what? On the riser, the square bank of TV screens hanging from the roof, there's the simple red and blue logo: TRUMP -- MAKING AMERICA GREAT AGAIN, surrounded by stars.
"You can't always get whaaaat you want ..." sings the man who got everything, over the crowd assembling to see a man who has everything. Billy Joel follows "Uptown girrrrrrrl, she's been living in her white-bread worrrrrrrrld" and then Elton, "Holy closure, Tony Danza" and then some more Stones. Still people are filing in, the lines snaking back from the door. It's been going more than an hour, and most of us spent an hour in the queue to get in. There was a queue to get into the queue, all the way back into the casino, people in Trump regalia among the poker slots and one-dollar crap tables. Truth be told, it was a little hard to pick between them.