By Brendan Buhler (contact)

Fri, Jan 11, 2008 (2 a.m.)

Welcome to Nevada, national political campaigns.

For months now we have told you Las Vegas is a normal place with normal people, a fine place for a presidential caucus, duly representative of Middle America and the West.

And that’s true, absolutely, mostly.

Now that you’re here, however, it’s time for full disclosure.

Tonight no fewer than eight camera-phone-infested nightclubs will have parties led by stars of the pay-per-view screen, if you know what we mean. You could get a group picture with Girls Gone Wild at Rain or shake hands with Ron “The Hedgehog” Jeremy at Rumjungle.

If you’d like to get an A for planning, take your candidate to the Adult Entertainment Expo today for a photo op with the guy who’s going to try to break the world record for time spent hanging by meat hooks. (He thinks four through the skin are enough to suspend him for six hours. The record in a relatively small field is eight hooks for five hours and 40 minutes. Fond memories, Richard Harris.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You political types were supposed to be in New Hampshire while we hosted the annual adult entertainment convention. But then New Hampshire changed the date of its primary, which sent you scurrying prematurely to Las Vegas, a town where “hope” and “change” usually refer to silicone implants.

Speaking of which, stay out of strip clubs.

Yes, it’s true their owners are often friendly to politicians and their needs, especially financial, but beware. They’ll totally rat you out. If you don’t believe us, just ask a few alumni of the Clark County Commission. Visiting hours at the federal prison camp in Englewood, Colo., are 8:30 to 10:30 a.m. weekdays and 11:30 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. Saturdays, Sundays and holidays.

Another friendly warning: Watch out for wild animals. While you’re out hunting supporters door-to-door, keep in mind that many Nevadans enjoy owning toothy leopards and chimps capable of ripping off your arms. So canvasser beware, unless you want to compete for Best Political Obituary Ever.

Now this isn’t as exotic as a mauling, but you should know that a red light is to Nevada drivers what a red cape is to Spanish bulls. When you see this happen, don’t get angry. Many among us regard running red lights as a precious freedom. If you want to prove to us you’re in touch with our Western issues, the magic words are “Three seconds late is close enough.”

So what else does lil’ ol’ Vegas have to offer a national campaign? How about a chance to show the world your candidate is a regular Joe or Jane Sixpack?

It’s easy: Get him or her photographed walking down Fremont Street drinking a 3-foot-tall piña colada.

It’s what the rest of America does here all year long.

Just think of us as Iowa plus.