Red Bull Crap

Scottsdale is ground zero for $30,000 millionaires. Shiny shirts, spray-on man tans, fake Rolexes, and credit-card debt higher than their spiky, gelled hairdos. These late-night leisure zombies have also infected Tempe and Arcadia, and rumor has it that they'll stop at nothing in pursuit of fake boobs, nose jobs, and any drink that's mixed with Red Bull.

After much research, we found a chink in their armor, a type of Kryptonite that will stop these faux-fiends in their Kenneth Cole-shod tracks. Every Thursday night, renegade-country DJ Dana spins for fans of the real deal, not some mandal-wearin' city slickers, because anti-Nashville classic-country greats are sure to drive away the creatures in droves.