Osaka faces a challenge: What to do about the whales? No, there's nothing the International Whaling Commission can do and don't bother calling Greenpeace or Sea Shepherd, for catching these whales is a form of hunting far more difficult than firing harpoons into a leviathan.

In the gambling industry, "whales" generally refers to the high rollers. The top whales — the Moby Dicks, if you will — are the ones who blow into town on private jets, rent the top suites in the best hotels, run up a bar bill greater than the GDP of several developing nations, and shop until they drop at the plethora of Italian and French fashion houses near the casino. You can catch a glimpse of them in the roped-off VIP room, reeking of expensive cologne and dressed like George Clooney or Julia Roberts, sipping a glass of premium Champagne or a 1963 Warre vintage port and placing large amounts of money on a single bet.

Without whales, a casino can earn a reputation as being a dull backwater full of "sardines." You know the type — rubes in loud polyester clothing, traveling on a cheap package tour, and hoping they'll get lucky at the ¥100 slot machines and win enough money to visit a fancy restaurant, the kind where napkins are made of linen and the utensils are metal, not plastic.