So Let's Do Lunch, Mr. Nixon
Raena Honan's a self-described conservative Christian Republican who counts among her most-treasured possessions a photograph of herself flanked by U.S. Senator Jon Kyl and House Speaker Newt Gingrich. So why can't she get an audience with Mr. Rightward Republican himself, Governor J. Fife Symington III?

One word: tact. Lack thereof, The Flash means.
Last week, Honan, legislative director for the Grand Canyon chapter of the Sierra Club, complained she had been trying for the last two and a half years to set up a meeting with Symington to discuss environmental legislation. Then, she says, just when she thought she had a meeting arranged, for some darn reason the governor's environmental policy adviser, John Kelly, told her she wasn't welcome at the Gov's office.

Could the turndown have something to do with this quote, given by Honan to the Phoenix Gazette last month for an article on Fife's stance toward fish and game regulators: "It's starting to feel like 1986 all over again"?

Can anyone pronounce power-grabbing? Mecham? Impeachment?
Even while she complains the governor has frozen her out, Honan insists she isn't sorry for her comments. In fact, she sent a letter to the Fifester recently, urging his staff to reconsider. Part of her plea:

"Really, Governor Symington, I'm a nice person and easy to get along with. In fact, I make a point of speaking with people who may oppose my views, because I learn something from them, and we invariably find some common ground--well, most of the time anyway."

Art of the Deal
Last week, zillionaire Spam-man Geordie Hormel filed suit after discovering that he'd paid $2.2 million for an art collection that (he contends) included a bunch of forgeries, faux Utrillos among them. In the list of named defendants were three Paradise Valley art dealers. Two of them, Michael Burns and Jerre Lynn Wick, have been in the vicinity of "art" before. In 1992, Burns and Wick "helped" former Oakland A's pitcher Brian Kingman find an appraiser for a Picasso painting that turned out to be a stolen forgery. The appraiser turned out to be an FBI agent. Kingman went to jail. Burns and Wick went back to work. The Flash doesn't know whether any of these people have visited optometrists recently.

Naked Truth
Acquanetta, the Valley's resident B-movie queen of the Forties, is still fuming. A nude photo, allegedly of her, appears in the latest issue of Celebrity Sleuth, a skin mag that reprints racy photos of actresses, shot long before they hit it big. The publication ran an old pic of a topless starlet behind Venetian blinds; the model was identified as a pre-Tarzan and the Leopard Woman Acqua. After examining the evidence, the lady in question insists Sleuth is clueless. "That's not me. Oh, God, no!" the well-preserved 73-year-old says. "My body doesn't look like that! That's a woman who has hanging breasts. Even to this day, I don't have hanging breasts, for God's sake!"

Case clothed.


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