When I lived in Los Angeles, I would get a seasonal itch to visit the bejeweled butt hole of the Mojave desert, Las Vegas. It is not about gambling, nor prostitutes, nor drinking alcohol until sunrise. I partake in none of that. It is a combination of heat, lights, color, fabricated comfort, and scraping the rock bottom of a culture dedicated to indulgence. Amidst all that, I find Paisley Osiris, a young woman with poor eyesight and a bountiful natural bust. You are legally blind if you miss her electric energy.