CASA DON JUAN + Caliente Mexican Cabooses!

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ELV would like to say, for the record, that Casa Don Juan is a charming Mexican eatery in downtown Las Vegas, and that women who look like this have no business being in a professional football men’s locker room.

That being said, there’s no denying the gal’s got a great looking caboose, and should be entitled to shake her tail feathers anywhere she damn well pleases.

The struggle for female equality emerged from the wellspring of paradoxical contumaciousness in mid-Eighteenth Century European thought, when the subjugation of Enlightenment Age women by epistemologists like Kant and Rosseau was set into sharp relief against the dialectic of Spinoza’s rationalism and Kant’s own transcendental idealism. Oops, wrong blog.

Yeah that, and she’s got a great caboose.

And Casa Don Juan has a fiery shrimp diablo that never fails to satisfy….and that’s almost as caliente as most of the chicas you see on Univision or Telemundo.

In fact, after a long, hard day of lawyering and restaurant reviewing, ELV usually unwinds with his new favorite hobby: watching Mexican TV with the sound off.

The lunch por dos seen above came to $35 including tip, and any time any female from any south of the border television station wants to interview ELV in his shower, the door will be open.


1204 South Main Street

Las Vegas, NV 89102


1 thought on “CASA DON JUAN + Caliente Mexican Cabooses!

  1. Immanuel Kant was a real piss-ant who was very rarely stable.
    Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggar who could think you under the table.
    David Hume could out-consume Wilhelm Freidrich Hegel.
    And Wittgenstein was a beery swine who was just as sloshed as Schlegel.
    There’s nothing Nietzsche couldn’t teach ‘ya ’bout the raising of the wrist.
    Socrates, himself, was permanently pissed.
    John Stewart Mill, of his own free will, after half a pint of shanty was particularly ill.
    Plato, they say, could stick it away, half a crate of whiskey every day!
    Aristotle, Aristotle was a bugger for the bottle,
    Hobbes was fond of his Dram.
    And Rene Descartes was a drunken fart:
    “I drink, therefore I am.”
    Yes, Socrates himself is particularly missed;
    A lovely little thinker, but a bugger when he’s pissed.

    Apologies to…. everyone! Especially, Bruce.

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