LATEST ADDITIONS

The beast is now in the careful, capable hands of our copy editor, Richard Lehnert. I sent it to him last night, only six days after I began creating this latest collection of “Recommended Components” blurbs&#151the last six months of equipment reports, follow-ups, and column coverage distilled into 150-word gems. Six months squished into six days: less time than it took to create the universe.

It looks sort of pretty, doesn't it?

Imagine how much prettier it would be if it were real. Imagine again how much prettier it would be if those bridges and roads and towers weren't there at all.

Every time I stepped from the slow elevator and onto the casino floor at Harrah's, where Stereophile's editors spent their sleepless nights, my hatred for Las Vegas was revitalized. This was like some kind of bad joke, some kind of post-modern torture. Oh, god, I am still here. I would turn right and see the same flashing lights, the same low ceilings, the same people who had been there the night before, still sitting, still smoking, still hoping, still staring blank-faced into spinning screens of cherries, spades, and jokers, and I would wonder why.

Why? Most people who visit Las Vegas seem to be looking for money, sex, drugs, or simple escape. Why are we here?