You see, unlike those who have sung its pomo praises, I actually lived there 365 days from one birthday to the next. It's a fucking suburban hellhole. Or to put it another way, I don't see Robert Venturi moving to Vegas because it's so groooooovy. And yet it is only the forms which are interchangeable in the most banal fashion. Perhaps looking at a picture of one may be equivalent to looking at a picture of another, but the experience of being there is not.
Architecture is amazing easy and almost impossible to convey on film.
But I still hate the experience of living in Vegas. The mornings after the nights before on the butt-ugliest stretch of the Mojave known to man. Fascinating to visit, but after 2.5 days you feel like you're serving out a sentence, unless you've got it really bad for games of pseudo-chance. Vegas just takes the religious elements of gambling and reduces them to consumerism. It's another fucking carney ride, 3-card monte routine.