Ah yes, the Green Lantern. If I'm not mistaken that is the one tawdry (but fun) brothel that is on the city's official "Tour of Ely" (pronounced Eeeee leeee) where they shuffle in groups of blue-haired retired women and their husbands to gaze at the mural painted on the four walls of the bar. As the story goes, a miner who had supposedly spent part of his callow youth studying painting in with the lost generation, circa 1920's Paris, painted the murals of street walkers, a la francais, beckoning under street lamps in foggy back alleys. If you look at the various renditions of working women you see they all have the same familiar face; that of a working gal with whom the still lost alcoholic mural painter was smitten at the time, as he tried to paint off his drinking debts. Yes, such is the lurid oral (pun intended) tradition of the Wild and Woolly West. And the Green Lantern (no relation to the comic book) is only one block from the local high school. Yes, Nebada, the last vestige of real civlization in 'Mericuh.
Mr. Els, your knowledge of "My Own Private Nevada" impresses me. :wink:
Sadly, none of those whore houses are "off the grid", though.
