Jim Tressel is not on vacation yet, but this is pretty much what it will look like.
Las Vegas. 10:17 a.m., yesterday.
Cooler: You, uh...need me to go over there, boss?
Pitboss: I dunno. I kind of want to see if he can keep going at this pace. I've never seen anything like it.
Cooler: He's a machine. Barkley passed out an hour ago.
Pitboss: Yeah. We woke him up with a cognac enema. That always perks him up.
Cooler: I'll head over there if you want--
Pitboss: Nah. You don't stand in the way of a storm like this.
Stunning Floozy 1: Daddy, you want me to blow on the dice?
Tressel: Oh, yeah baby. Whore germs got me this pile of chips, and they'll make it bigger.
Stunning Floozy 1: You're mean!
Tressel: Roll them bones, baby, and we'll see what else gets bigger.
She rolls the dice.
Dealer: Another seven! I've never seen anything like this!
Waitress: Need something from the bar, sir?
Tressel: Another Panty-dropper, please.
Waitress; But that's your 38th, sir.
Tressel: Do you see my panties on the floor?
Tressel: Then keep bringing 'em. Then we'll see what we can do about yours.
To be continued.