Through the summer, the museum is offering rotating Yin Fridays and Yang Fridays. The mama’s-boy Yins feature organic-tea sipping, yogi/yogini visits, and similar wimpy stuff. We comparatively manly Yangs get to sample cocktails and hors d’oeuvres, groove to live jazz, and participate in what SMoCA calls “art chatter.” Buddha bless!…

If you’re like us, you loathe and despise the captive-audience price-gouging that goes on at sports arenas. Five or six bucks for a dog? Eight or nine for a brew? Hell, you’ll only shell out $5 for a sixer and another buck for the wiener at the neighborhood Circle K…

There’s naive art and there are naive subjects. Artist Terry Thompson mines the latter with his architecturally precise depictions of vintage roadside landmarks such as motels and diners. The paintings will cause twinges in those harboring memories of a simpler time, because his works are hyper-realistic representations of an America…

Comedian Brian Posehn is the ultimate schlemiel done good. He’s carved out a nice niche by playing a bunch of nobodies in scores of contemporary TV shows and movies. There’s not the remotest chance you’ll remember him in any of these, but here’s a partial list of his credits: The…

Scottsdale fashion is high. Phoenix couture is low and funky and cool – an unlikely mix of street/eclectic, hobo/boho, and mid-century moderne. One of our favorite purveyors of the anti-runway aesthetic is Rachel Richards’ Bunky Boutique, which flaunts the work of indie and national labels such as Kidrobot, Angela Johnson,…

It’s highly likely that Rob Reiner used the theatrical-metal band Iron Maiden as a working template for This Is Spinal Tap. But as cartoonish as these volume-to-11 Brits can be, the Maiden’s also been known to break the mold it helped create with stray shrapnel like 1984’s “Rime of the…

We dodge religion like vampires shrink from garlic toast, and it’d take a Supreme Being-size miracle to lure us back. Jesus Christ, here’s one now! The Son of God Himself is scheduled to appear at 8 and 11:30 a.m. Sunday, May 25, at Scottsdale’s City of Grace, 9610 East Cactus…

We dodge religion like vampires shrink from garlic toast, and it’d take a Supreme Being-size miracle to lure us back. Jesus Christ, here’s one now! The Son of God Himself is scheduled to appear at 8 and 11:30 a.m. Sunday, May 25, at Scottsdale’s City of Grace, 9610 East Cactus…

The ’70s get a bad rap – not. The decade was as hokey and bubbleheaded as it appears in hindsight, a microburst of smiley-face delusion lodged between the dashed dreams of the ’60s and the grim reaping of Reagan’s “Morning in America.” Whoa, self-dude. Relaaaax. Go chill with people wearing…

Every generation or so, the universe slips off its axis and Detroit catches a break. Right now, Motown’s livin’ large with the success of the Detroit Tigers, Pistons, and Red Wings. (Lions? We said the universe slipped, not ended.) But when the Tigers dropped their first seven games of the…

Gilligan’s Island made Sherwood Schwartz’s other major contribution to society, The Brady Bunch, look like Shakespeare. It was foul. Worse, it was nonsensical. What the hell were a movie star, a brilliant professor, and a millionaire (and his wife!) doing on a mangy scow like the Minnow, anyhow? Mary Ann,…

As you know – because you’re a New Times reader and we’re New Times – we’re not the sort to glad-hand politicians. If we were clinging to the lip of a crevasse and forced to pick a pol to save our life, we’d just let go. If choosing death wasn’t…

Many contend that retired athletes ride the sports-memorabilia gravy train for the payola. We say they’re bored. Let’s take former NFL star William “The Refrigerator” Perry, since he’s handy. The Fridge was never the smartest appliance in the showroom, but an above-average talent propelled him to the phat land of…

Charlie Hill’s career hasn’t been Earth-shattering. Oh, the standup comic’s had his moments: stray gigs on Letterman and Leno, one-offs on The Richard Pryor Show, Moesha, Roseanne, The Bionic Woman. Mostly, though, this son of the Iroquois Nation has spent his professional life in the middling gray area that separates…

Heed our command, insignificant humans: Attend Pagan Fest USA or we lords of Asgard shall smite thee with our mighty gavel, Mjolnir! The thundering Norse beasts we have selected to pummel your puny Midgard include Finnish “Viking metal” bands Ensiferum and Turisas, Switzerland’s Eluveitie, Germany’s Suidakra, and the terrifying Tyr…

If Peter Pan owned a gallery, it would be Trunk Space, that Neverland on Grand. Our dauntless Lost Kids strike again on with their SuperFun Activity Challenge!, featuring the unveiling of artist books “inspired by those thick, cheaply made coloring books from days of yore,” says Trunk’s Wendy – er,…

One review of the flick She’s Got It – which opens the Celebrating Israel at 60 Film Festival – used the descriptors “goofy,” “adorable,” and “hijinks ensue.” These are not notions typically associated with Israel, that shy, studious nation that grew up to work for Mossad, but Yankul “Jacob” Goldwasser…

Anyone who’s survived a few Phoenix summers recognizes that there’s a subtle linguistic thing going on with the phrase “under the stars.” Many arts groups fall back on it this time of year, but no one’s trying to fool you. They’re just doing the semantic shuffle to tempt you from…

The 2007 New York Mets suffered a magnificent collapse. It was one of the greatest in baseball history, even loftier, in many minds, than that of the 1969 Chicago Cubs, who squandered a 9.5-game lead to . . . the New York Mets. While those Amazin’ Mets won the ’69…

We’ve always figured that near-fame must be infinitely better than the thing itself. If you can be eternally on the verge, like country-rockin’ Cross Canadian Ragweed, man, you’re livin’ the dream. But these smokin’ Okies aren’t long for the intimate kind of gig they’ll play at Martini Ranch so squeeze…

A geodesic dome is the only structure made by man that strengthens proportionately to each increase in size. The geo’s also considered one of the most stable forms of construction, and it’s pretty cool-looking, to boot – think Epcot Center, Expo 67, Silent Running. So why aren’t we all lounging…

No demolition-derby promoter ever went broke underestimating the desire of the American public to witness vehicular carnage. It’s innate. We’re a country on the move, the car is our god, ain’t no way you cuttin’ in on me, muthafucka. That unchained aggression defines the demo-derby experience and our collective birthright…