So the Millennial Arizona Republic is for sale. This is not big news to the Flash. The Republic has always been eager to be bought off.
Still, the tortured scribes on Van Buren are all atwitter about the apparent impending sale. News that Central Newspapers Incorporated, owner of the Republic and the Indianapolis Star, among others, was putting itself on the block sent CNI's stock soaring by some 70 percent last week.
The rumor mill has the Tribune Company, parent of the Chicago Tribune and recent acquirer (for $8 billion) of Times-Mirror (Los Angeles Times) as the favorite suitor.
McClatchy Newspapers (Sacramento Bee) and Gannett (USA Today) are also being bandied about as possible buyers.
Expect an announcement before Independence Day.
The Flash is rooting for CNI to stand pat, because then the task of ridiculing the Republic will remain easy as pie.
If it must be sold, the Flash will pull for Gannett, the largest newspaper group in the nation, because the Republic reads more like the execrable USA Today every day, anyway.
But donning the mantle of altruistic citizen for a moment (it makes me quake), the Flash must yearn for a Knight-Ridder (San Jose Mercury News, Philadelphia Inquirer), the New York Times Company or a McClatchy acquisition. The Tribune Company would be a big step up for Arizona, as well.
All of these companies' publications reflect a solid commitment to newsgathering and the kind of investigative reporting that unmasks the bad guys and provides succor to the downtrodden. They are thorough, well-written and well-edited.
These traits are unrecognizable in CNI publications.
Meanwhile, the Freedom Communications Group of Irvine, California, whose flagship newspaper is the Orange County Register, has been kicking the tires of the Thomson-owned East Valley Tribune.
CNI and Thomson are among the least respected news organizations in North America, so any new ownership at either the Republic or the East Valley Tribune would be a big plus for the Valley and for Arizona.
In any case, rest assured that the Flash will remain vigilant, dutifully chronicling the foibles of the daily set.
Sweetness and Lights
Overheard Sunday at the Ray Charles show at the Celebrity Theatre: A dude sashays up to an attractive woman on the patio and slurs, "I don't have a light. Could you give me one?"
The young woman seems unduly startled for a moment, then responds, "Well, why are you asking me?"
"To be honest, you're the best-looking woman out here."
The lady pauses, sizes up her interlocutor, then smiles and says, "Hey, why not? I'd be happy to give you a life."
Now it's the gent's turn to be befuddled.
"I said I needed a light," he says with an embarrassed chortle. "Not a life."
"Oh, sorry. I don't have a light. But, you know, that's really not a bad ice-breaker."
"Well, come to think of it, I could use a life, too."
The Flash wishes he could report that the two strolled off into the sunset together. Alas.
Master Charles, by the way, was, as always, a wonder to behold, screeching and squirming and hammering away at his keyboard like a man half his age. He did seem to be yodeling a couple of times, but, hey, the cat is 74. He even played "What'd I Say," a classic song with which he is notoriously stingy.
At one point he stopped playing to demand that the spotlight be taken off him. "I don't like the light on me," he told the crowd. He joked that it wouldn't bother him a bit to play in the dark.
The spotlight finally dimmed, but Charles raised his hands, palms up, just to make sure, before he resumed his performance.
Hey, why not put a black light on him?
Strum and Drang
The once-earnest Flash has passed through irony and is presently post-ironic, moving quickly toward neo-post-irony.
Meaning we grooved when the first rockers smashed guitars with rage and still grooved when a new generation smashed guitars for no good reason and no real loss because, duh, a cheeky smirk absolves all affectation.
Then, when the virgin smirk became cliché, a smirk at cheekiness was needed, then a smirk at the smirk at cheekiness, then least but certainly not last, the fourth-generation smirk that now graces the cheekiness of the Flash.
Anyway, because the Flash digs Dave Grohl, we're assuming he's passed the Flash and advanced to the fifth rung of post-ironic hell. Because otherwise what he did on a recent afternoon at the Best Buy store on Camelback looked like earnest lameness of the first water.
So the Foo Fighters are playing a 30-minute promotional gig to maybe 1,000 fans at Best Buy. It's an informal gig, acoustic guitars, frappuccinos, a backdrop of competitively priced dishwashers and a big yellow sign that read, "Some Places Are Known for Great Music." Afterward, the band members would autograph your CD as long as that CD had been purchased at Best Buy.
It was a cesspool of crass commercialism, but Grohl and his band were loose and playful and entertaining, and the audience was getting a lot of big-time rock 'n' roll on the cheap. No technical so far.
Then Grohl breaks a string on his acoustic guitar and someone yells out for him to "bust it." He looks around for support, finds a little and begins throttling the stage with the $1,000 Taylor guitar. Now visualize: Ex-Nirvana Rock Star at 2 p.m. under fluorescent lights busting a $1,000 acoustic guitar in front of a wall of dishwashers at Best Buy.
Ah, it wasn't the Foo Fighters, it was Rage Amidst the Machines.
To make matters Durst, Dave throws the guitar to some guys in the front row who, as they tear the guitar apart for souvenirs, nearly trample three toddlers sitting in strollers behind them. Both mom and Dave needed a good paddling.
Or, then again, maybe the Flash should lighten up. The fans loved it. And for all his rollicking, unpretentious three-chord good deeds, Dave should be allowed a few transgressions.
And perhaps the Flash is being a hypocrite. Indeed, no place on Earth makes the Flash long to bust things like the appliance section of Best Buy.
Master Debaters
Those CD1 candidates say the darnedest things! The race for the state's First Congressional District -- Matt Salmon is graciously vacating his seat, per a term limit pledge -- is about the only political game in town this summer, and the six contenders are proving to be quite an entertaining bunch.
Last week, at a debate sponsored by the Arizona Chamber of Commerce, Susan Bitter Smith -- the only chick in the race -- rose to make introductory remarks, and, in a flurry of brown-nosing, managed to tell the packed ballroom at the Phoenix Hyatt how much she'd enjoyed having "intercourse" with her opponents.
Earlier this year, after a similar (but much smaller) event sponsored by the Log Cabin Republicans, Echo magazine quoted candidate Bert Tollefson as complimenting the gay GOPers as an elite group ". . . in terms of finance, interior decorating and . . . drama."
Tollefson continued to exhibit his no-holds-barred, no-chance-of-winning campaign style at the Chamber debate, when he announced that, as the only candidate without small children, he was the only one who should be running for Congress.
"I'm sure the working moms in the crowd appreciated that one," quipped moderator Grant Woods.