My uncle was a pit boss at the Sahara at Las Vegas in 1980, when my wife and I stayed there. He got us front row seats into Don Rickles' late night show. After picking on the black guy in the back, the Mexicans over on the right, he spotted my asian face and called me up on stage. He teased me about all the asian cliches and then told me he wanted his laundry brought to his room. I asked him how much starch he wanted on his sheets and he slapped me and told me he was the funny guy. He sent a bottle of champagne to our room.
RIP Mr. Rickles, loved you...