Megalopolitan Life

We’d sooner eat our playbill than employ that overused phrase “Broadway caliber,” but we’re struggling to come up with a better description of this teeny troupe’s last season. With its letter-perfect production last August of Neil LaBute’s humorous morality play The Shape of Things, Nearly Naked set the bar impossibly high. By November, the five-year-old company had surpassed itself with its widely acclaimed take on Peter Shaffer’s postmodern sex-and-equine-imagery drama Equus. No other company, not even our biggest-budgeted Equity houses, came anywhere near Nearly Naked’s stylish productions and splendid choices, and we’re hoping they remain — to quote Jacqueline Susann, “undraped on the stage” — for a long time to come.

You’re looking for a gas mask and a taxidermied chipmunk and a ceramic candleholder shaped like a nun. Wal-Mart has failed you; even Osco doesn’t carry black candles. What to do? Race for Black Hearts, where it’s Halloween every day.

Open at the crack of noon Friday through Monday, this bizarre boutique is your one-stop shop for death-centric items, edge weapons, and forensic anthropology. Owner Vyle Raven-Greyv has crammed her 2,200-square-foot store with gas masks, lingerie, and original Wiccan art prints and statuary. Where else can you find an embalming table full of gravestone soap, a wall full of spiritual icons, and enough quasi-military fetish gear to outfit a kinky platoon? Nowhere but this Bazaar Noir, we assure you.

The smell of exhaust is in the air at Speedway, the Valley’s premier indoor kart racing facility. Residents who feel the need for speed can burn rubber on the 75,000-square-foot track — a challenge for seasoned racers and novices alike. The technical and four-wheel drift turns will test your skills and get your adrenaline racing. Professional timing equipment clocks your laps so you can gauge your progress.

This is a climate-controlled track, so the only heat at Speedway is the one you are competing in.

Charles Goyette is well-informed, a bit goofy and often irreverent, but that’s not why he made the final cut for this award. What made Goyette stand above the madding (and maddening) crowd that populates the Valley’s talk-show scene was his unexpected take on the war in Iraq. He was against it, no small deal in this neck of the woods, where rational political dissent is viewed by many as some kind of traitorous weakness that ought to be punished by banishment or death. Oddly, Goyette is a dyed-in-the-wool conservative who considers himself a standup Republican. Goyette’s once-loyal listeners called him every name as he steadfastly questioned the U.S. invasion of Hussein-land, including that nastiest of epithets — liberal! But he stayed the course through his own perilous fight, and for that we give him our own little medal of honor.

We already have our Valentine’s Day mapped out for next year. We’re going to rent the “Bomber Boudoir” and take our sweetie on a trip to the clouds. The BB is a private plane owned by a local doctor, and he takes couples on flights 1,000 feet above the Valley (hint: sunset is awesome). The plane is a funky propeller-driven Beech AT-11, and includes a bubble turret and a Plexiglas floor for earthly views. It also includes a fake machine gun, such fun for our guy. The flight is a bit expensive — $900 an hour (for up to six couples if we’re kinky), and includes champagne, roses, fruit and chocolates. For privacy, the pilot pulls a curtain to separate us from his cockpit. Hmm. Puts a whole new incentive into joining the mile-high club.

Readers’ Choice for Best Place to Pop the Question: South Mountain

In a time when most of our tax dollars go into things we can’t use (like corporate loopholes and kickbacks), the City of Gilbert has built what is by far the best rec center in metro Phoenix, and offers its use to all Valley residents for a fraction of what it costs to work out anywhere else. At only $2.50 a day for Gilbert residents, and $3.75 for others (there’s even a family rate), the 50,000-square-foot center boasts a climbing wall, four racquetball courts, a huge gym, family locker rooms, killer steam room and sauna, pool tables, aerobics rooms, and Ping-Pong. There are lessons in tae kwon do, aerobics, and hip-hop dance, kids’ movement classes, and summer camp programs of various types. And a fully supervised day care, also at a great rate.

But the crown jewel of the place is the elevated race track. Set inside the nicely air-conditioned building, about 30 feet above ground, the track looks out on a spectacularly huge window, providing a rather inspiring view as you work out.

Monthly, six month and annual passes are available, and Gilbert businesses can get a corporate discount.

Each week, La Voz and Prensa Hispaña duke it out for Spanish-speaking readers. And nearly every week, the edgier, flashier La Voz comes out on top, often breaking stories of importance not only to the Hispanic community but the Anglo world as well. This year has been a particularly successful one for the three-year-old weekly. At the Arizona Press Club awards, Prensa was thoroughly trounced by reporters Juan Villa, Rosa Tequida and Mayela Trahin for stories on violence at the border, marijuana legalization and others. Tequida was also named Latina journalist of the year by the National Association of Hispanic Publications and the National Hispanic Press Foundation in September 2002.

We hope La Voz‘s recent sale to Gannett doesn’t mean it morphs into another “McPaper.”

Readers’ Choice for Best Spanish Language News Radio: KHOT-FM 105.9

Just when you thought the ride was over indeed, just when the ride should have been over the Arizona Diamondbacks once again provided Valley sports fans with a pleasant surprise: the overachieving, hard-charging “Baby-Backs.”

When they should have been losing with a stable of injured veterans, they once again found ways to win, this time with a stable of greenhorn minor leaguers who still look more likely bound for Williamsport than Cooperstown.

If you’ve noticed, the D-Backs are the only pro franchise in the Valley capable of pleasant surprises. While the Cardinals and Coyotes turn star prospects into jerkwad flameouts with felony records, the Diamondbacks turn no-name minor leaguers into lovable superstars.

Now, if we could just see that sort of personality and performance out of the rest of the Valley’s pro teams, we might someday be a legitimate four-sport town.

Until then, it’ll just continue to be the D-Backs and the occasional burst of Suns-shine.

Readers’ Choice: Arizona Diamondbacks

Who wouldn’t love a giant organ, especially when it comes with a pizza? Organ Stop Pizza in Mesa prides itself as home to a massive 5,000-pipe Wurlitzer, the largest Wurlitzer theater organ in the world. Built in 1927 and revamped and put to use again in 1975, the thing, powered by four huge turbine blowers, totally wails; musicians play everything from the Star Wars theme to “Phantom of the Opera.” Also, these guys deserve major credit for sticking to song themes. At the end of a patriotic medley, a giant American flag is unfurled behind the organ. Four console-controlled cat marionettes dance along to “Alley Cat.” And when the song “Part of Your World” from Disney’s The Little Mermaid is played, bubbles descend on the room.

What’s in a name? A lot, we learned, during last spring’s brouhaha over Squaw Peak. But what do our state leaders do if the offending symbol is actually part of a state building?

Not much, apparently.

There they are — swastikas — carved right into the façade of the Arizona State Office Building in downtown Phoenix, home to the state’s Department of Agriculture. As it turns out, the swastika — then called a “whirling log” — was a design element used in India, Tibet and Turkey long before Adolf Hitler hijacked it as the logo for his National Socialist Party — and, ultimately, a universal symbol of hatred.

Ancient Native Americans used the “whirling log” in their artwork as well, including Arizona’s Pima, Maricopa and Navajo, which is probably why it ended up as part of the Arizona State Office Building, erected in 1930.

But who thinks about whirling logs now? Not the Native Americans, who long ago signed a decree renouncing the use of the swastika on any artwork.

Guess it’s harder to get out that sandblaster than it is to blast dissenters on a committee in charge of naming mountains.

The Valley has many dedicated professionals who are very good at dealing with the public and the press. And we should know; the media are their biggest customers and often their biggest headaches. But the Phoenix PD’s Randy Force has taken the concept of public information to a new level. Three years ago, Force gave up a long-held post in homicide to become the department’s chief mouthpiece. He soon saw the value of working with the media (easier to get the department’s message out to the public) rather than fighting with the press (always bad headlines). So for the past two years, Force has taught media relations classes (which he devised) to rookie officers as well as to veteran supervisors. His PowerPoint presentation would make a First Amendment lawyer weep for joy. It starts with a lecture on the constitutional underpinnings of a free press and the importance of a free press to society, works through laws and court decisions on public information (such as access to crime scenes) and wraps up with a run-down of Arizona’s public records law, including the fact that even cops’ own personnel files are generally open to inspection. All of which is designed to encourage an open flow of information from a department that has often kept itself behind closed doors.

And besides, what a great name for a cop.

Thanks to a local league of punks, all the news punks need to know is advertised on a Web site. And it’s got so much information, we have to wonder how its creators even find time to punk (yes, it’s a verb, too). There’s punk mail, as in a chat room. There are punk classifieds and punk radio favorite recommendations. There’s news and gossip on hot featured bands, show reviews, venues, punk-approved ‘zines, even information on recording studios, and punk stores. Who’d a thunk?

Leave it to the Japanese to create a serene oasis right in the middle of a desert metropolis. Situated at the south end of the Margaret T. Hance Park, this three-and-a-half-acre refuge is the perfect place for busy urbanites to slow down and contemplate simple beauties: a 12-foot waterfall, a rocky stream that flows into a koi-filled pond, a shore of carefully selected rocks from Arizona quarries, and stone lanterns and sculptures. (Landscape architects from Himeji, Japan, Phoenix’s sister city, incorporated native desert plants into the traditional design to help the garden withstand the extreme climate.) Even the garden’s official name, Ro Ho En, inspires a poetic mindset. Ro stands for “heron,” Himeji’s symbolic bird, which references the town’s spectacular White Heron Castle; Ho is Japanese for our own mythical winged creature; and En means “garden.” There’s also an on-site traditional teahouse, perfect for viewing the lovingly manicured scenery.

This is the place to get decked out in the latest NASCAR and racing gear while picking up precision models of your favorite race car. Billing itself as the full service racing collectibles retail store, Action has more gizmos with corporate logos than Richard Pettys jump suit. Dressed out in its new Tempe digs, Action features a complete line of precision scale-model stock cars, sales of which are restricted to members of the Racing Collectible Club of America. The individually numbered, die-cast stock car models are a hot item in the collectibles world, sometimes fetching big bucks among the faithful. The centerpiece of the store is a stock car driven by Dale Earnhardt in a NASCAR race. The car has cut-away panels over half the body, exposing the inner workings of the machine, including the $80,000 engine that employees fire up from time to time. But thats not the only car on display. A museum is integrated into the retail store, jammed with full-size cars including hot rods, a 57 Chevy, some vintage Mercurys, driver uniforms, shoes, helmets and other memorabilia. Gentlemen (and women), start your engines, and get on down to Action.

Talk about fashion-conscious. Home to a 972-piece Ethnic Dress Collection, the West Valley Art Museum is the best-dressed museum in the Southwest. Comprising costumes, textiles and ethnographic artworks from more than 75 countries, “The Golden Thread” collection got its start in 1985, when Sun City resident Dorothy Knop donated 356 pieces. (All are illustrated in her book Collections and Recollections: A Search for World Legacies of Ethnic Dress, available in the museum store.) Displayed items rotate periodically; currently, the focus falls on Asia, Africa and Latin America.

If fashion isn’t your passion, the museum — which originated as a satellite of the Phoenix Art Museum — is an arts destination in its own right, with nearly 3,000 works in all manner of media.

Although production of the feisty and subversive e-zine has been slow this year, Ladmo Park Chicano Chronicle’s recent return to cyber-activism is well-appreciated. The e-zine’s mission since its inception four years ago has been “to research, inform, advocate, promote, protect and expose by peaceful means in the best interest of Arizona’s Chicanos.” LPCC’s targets include anyone from former Arizona Republic columnist Ruben Navarrete to vigilante border militias, and attacks can be brutal. They’re designed to be in order to combat the complacency over social issues, political discrimination, and infuriating stereotypes that plague the Chicano community. “I want us to come out of our shells, stand up and say, Wait a minute, that was fucked up!'” says LPCC’s anonymous founder. LPCC’s feisty communiqués do just that.

Do we come here for the fresh-baked muffins — the carrot-ginger, corn-Cheddar and banana? No. Though the bakers pull the trays of treats from the oven and let them cool in a heady fog of aroma that makes us drool, we’re not their customers. The real guests are dogs, here to snack on those muffins and to grocery shop for Nature’s Variety foods, an all-natural line of raw foods (raw frozen bones, freeze-dried meats, dry kibble and dry roasted treats formulated to USDA standards). Yet we’re not suffering — this “Coffee Bar, Juice Bar and Dog Bar” also serves people-style raw juices, smoothies, caffeinated drinks, bagels and desserts. While Spot visits with his quadruped friends around a patio fountain centered by a bright red fire hydrant, we sip on Hair of the Dog, a stress-relieving combo of apple, carrot and ginger. It’s quite the place on weekends, when pets and their owners come in from the local dog park, visiting like moms and their babies. We love In the Raw. Our dogs love In the Rawwwwr.

The last time someone took us on a car-dinner date, we were 15, and it involved window service at a roller skating waitress-service hamburger shop. Well, these days, we’re substantially older, and our tastes are substantially ritzier. The only vehicle vittles we’ll be munching on are the ones in the opulent package offered by Cuisine Limousine. The evening starts with settling into a state-of-the-art luxury stretch from Jackson Limousines (provider of vehicles for such big shots as Colin Powell, Bill Gates, Michael Jordan, Billy Joel and Bill Cosby). Then, we’re driven to a private spot atop Camelback Mountain, where a table is set for us with fresh exotic flowers, china, silver, crystal and votive candles. Our dinner is catered by Vincent’s on Camelback, and includes our choice from a lengthy lists of appetizers, entrees, desserts, and wine or champagne. After our romantic dinner, our private limousine whisks us away to another tunnel of love, the gondola boat ride on the lake at the Hyatt Regency at Gainey Ranch in Scottsdale. The 4- to 12-hour package costs $495, but that does include gratuity, and just get a gander at some of these eats. Our favorite menu: lobster with leeks, cucumbers and lemon dressing, plus monkfish with apples and tomatoes in a calvados cream; or potato waffle with smoked salmon and cream of chives à la Daniel, plus rack of lamb with mustard and garlic. So long, soggy French fries dripping on the dashboard!

Our barker hates to park it. His energy is endless, he absolutely adores other dogs, and on weekends, when we want to take a nap, he wants to run, run, run with his buddies. So it’s been a godsend for us both that the City of Scottsdale recently wised up and deemed Horizon Park a permanent Off-Leash Bark Park. Since bestowing the honors, the city has installed drinking water, and maintains a lovely fenced lawn with shade trees, benches and tables, lighting, a rest room and phones. We can let our doggy do his thing (so many butts to sniff, legs to lift) from sunrise until 10:30 p.m. Does he love it? We know he does, finally coming back to us with wagging tail, shiny bright eyes, panting tongue hanging crazily out the side of his mouth, and that sure sign of doggy-delight delirium — his head covered in spit from the attentions of his new furry friends. We love it, too. Because when we get home, our little Cujo wants to crash just as much as we do.

If you’re stuck with relatives or friends in town, especially in the warmer months, it’s tough to find inexpensive and “unique to Phoenix” things to do that don’t include shopping. But this gem of a museum, dedicated (yes, we’re serious) to the American buffalo, is nestled in the strip mall at the southeast corner of Scottsdale Road and Shea Boulevard. Hardly a stuffy museum, the Buffalo Museum of America is more than just paintings and drawings of buffalo (though there are many of those). We’re actually not sure what the exact mission of the place is, we just really like it. There are taxidermied buffalo and wax figures of Wild West legends like Jesse James (you can take photos with them to send to family and friends who don’t believe you). Glass cases house Gemmie E. Baker’s amazing personal collection of Wild West memorabilia. The Buffalo Bill Room has some of Bill’s personal possessions, including one of his original hunting rifles. The best part by far is the animatronic buffalo families, and the prop buffalo that co-starred with Kevin Costner in Dances With Wolves. There is, of course, a gift shop, with all the usual suspects, but this is a place you won’t get tired of going to, if nothing else just to watch your friends experience it for the first time.

Readers’ Choice for Best Tourist Trap: Rawhide Western Town

The records office used to be in a tiny basement room in the county courthouse building at First Avenue and Jefferson. So if you needed, say, a copy of your divorce file, you had to circle the block a few times for an open parking space, then find the basement office, then brave the gridlock of lawyers, paralegals and others in the small room just to get to the counter to request a file.

My, how things have changed. A couple years ago, the records office moved to spacious quarters in the bottom of a parking garage at Sixth Avenue and Jackson. Now it’s no problem finding an empty parking space, and the office itself is thoughtfully designed and laid out to accommodate people who may need to be there a while and need a place to spread out some paperwork. There are more than two dozen desks and several large round tables scattered throughout the room, so privacy is not an issue. A nice touch is the kid-size tables for those patrons who have to bring small children with them. There are numerous computer terminals for looking up case numbers. Rows of couches fill the room so waiting is comfortable (even though the wait seems shorter these days and the counter clerks more plentiful). Magazine racks full of recent copies of a range of publications stand on one wall. Our favorite element: clean public rest rooms at the back of the main room. Now that’s public service.

Having a dog is like having a kid. We need to drive him to the vet, to the doggy park, to the groomer, and on trips out of town (he likes vacations to the forest and the beach). We have to drive to the pet store for kibble and toys. It gets time-consuming. So Fetch Doggie Store has come up with a great solution — official driver’s licenses for Fido. The application reassures us that there’s no written test, though there is a warning that “some pets should not drive” (we’re thinking our hamster; it’s hard for his little feet to reach the pedals). All we do is e-mail or snail mail a photo of our pet, and the company sends back a realistic-looking laminated ID, designed for our state (Arizona in this case). It lists our furry friend’s birthdate, sex, height, weight, hair color, eye color and class (K9). There’s the people-size wallet version, a smaller one that clips to his collar like an ID tag, a key chain, and even one that fits into a tiny wallet for Rover to carry around his neck. Now, when we tell our pup to fetch, he grabs the car keys, and comes back with anything he can fit in the trunk of his shiny new convertible automobile.

The Penske Racing Team has been awarded the most wins in the history of racing. So what do you do when you’ve done everything? Build an 8,000-square-foot museum, of course.

At Penske Racing Museum, diehard fans can experience some action in two full-size simulators, on a custom-designed racetrack, or on the off-road course. Then check out the 16 championship winning cars on display, including the 1984 Indy winner, the Pennzoil No. 6 car. Peruse the plethora of memorabilia or view the video wall.

The Penske Racing Museum had the rabid race fan in mind, and it shows at this utopia for speed machines.

Aside from the experimental, no-budget “microcinema” events that have popped up in downtown art spaces, the best chance Valley cinema lovers have of seeing the edgiest indie films is at this jewel box of a theater, tucked in the shadow of Scottsdale Fashion Square. While some competition has cropped up recently, it’s mostly from within the Harkins chain. (In particular, the Harkins Valley Art comes in a close second, with some decidedly non-mainstream features.) And as far as international titles are concerned, Camelview is frequently the only destination in the Valley to showcase the latest flicks from foreign shores.

Readers’ Choice for Best Movie Theater: Harkins Ciné Capri

Craig’s List is a free Internet bulletin board system where you can buy, sell and trade just about everything, as well as cruise personal ads, find a job, or enter into one of many community discussion forums. Created in San Francisco in 1995, Craig’s List came to Phoenix in May 2003 and has steadily built up its listings. Although still relatively sparse when compared to those cities in which Craig’s List is better established, it is an easy, anonymous, free way to post bulletin board listings. Users reply through the Craig’s List’s anonymous e-mail system to postings, and the poster can choose to make contact or not. There are no ads, and no charge for most ads (the exception being employers who pay a small fee to post job listings).

And sometimes it’s funny, such as this ad from July: “Now hiring 6-10 smaller carny types to drive/ride in modified tiny’ Volkswagen beetle for grand finale of traveling road show. Experience necessary: Ability to manipulate small handles under duress. Resistance to fire is a plus. Similar roadshows are now igniting finale performers. Ability to dodge potentially dangerous projectiles. Must get along with others and pack animals. Excellent communication skills. Benefits: Travel and experience the West Valley!”

There’s also an active singles area, including a kinky “casual encounters” board and “missed connections” in which you can post a note to that handsome stranger you wish you had spoken to at the bar last weekend.

Noted baseball architects Ellerbe Beckett designed this beautiful facility that serves as home to the Milwaukee Brewers. Built in 1998, and originally planned to house two spring training teams, the Maryvale park is not Bank One Ballpark, and that’s why we love it. Sure, you can’t see regular-season major league play, but when a game is on in this no-frills park, you’ll see why we love it. There’s no fancy-schmancy country club seating, or waiters to bring you drinks. This is the kind of park where people come to watch baseball, not talk on their cell phones and network. The stadium has more than enough seats to handle the volume of patrons it gets, without feeling like its cavernous sisters in Peoria and Mesa. Its partial roof offers shade to a large part of the stands, which provides comfort without ruining the “outdoor” feel of watching the game. The grounds are impeccable, there is ample parking, and its bright blue seats are actually pretty comfortable for molded plastic. The concession areas are well-placed, offering a variety of standard fare at different locations so that not a lot of walking is necessary to get your hot dog and beer, and smaller vendors set up booths of more unique items at the end of the walkways, out of the way of traffic patterns. The lawn seats in the outfield are set up on a steep incline, allowing even those in the cheap seats a great view.

The British-born Binder threw the state Legislature into a tizzy last spring when she elected to take her long-planned vacation during the final days of a contentious debate on the budget. Binder already had balked at draconian cuts urged by Republican leadership, and her departure forced the Rs to compromise with Governor Janet Napolitano’s proposal.

We love her for that. And we love her because she is one of the few legislators who isn’t afraid to depart from party line and do what she believes is in the best interest of her constituents. Her independence has triggered absurd reactions from other Republican leaders like pinhead House majority leader Eddie Farnsworth, who refused to move any of Binder’s bills to the House floor for a vote.

A fiscal conservative with a social conscience, Binder has been one of the few voices in the state pressing for reforms to stop the coerced underage polygamous marriages practiced by a fundamentalist Mormon cult in Colorado City. Her courage and high principles are matched by her polite demeanor that seems to have more weight with that classy British accent.

Readers’ Choice: Janet Napolitano

For fans of all things light-giving, Modern Lighting is the only place to shop. This Phoenix mainstay is as much a gallery of great lamps of all eras as it is a shining shrine that proves how illuminating art can be. It also proves that Seinfeld’s Soup Nazi has nothing on Phoenix, where surly shopkeepers like Peter Alper (known in collector circles as “The Lamp Nazi”) are as likely to snap your head off as offer to sell you a parchment shade. We’ve shopped here for years, albeit cautiously, because no matter how big we smile, no matter how politely we ask questions, our Mr. Alper (who’s a genius at rewiring lamps and reupholstering old, torn shades) always sneers us at. During our last visit, we pointed to a fine-looking floor lamp and asked, “Do you know the price of this lamp?” to which Herr Alper replied, “Yes, I do. I know the price of everything in the store.” And then proceeded to ignore us for the remainder of our visit. Another time we asked if a particular lamp was antique or a reproduction, and were treated to an astonishing display of eye rolling and the reply, “I am closing in seven minutes.” And it’s not just us; we’ve asked around and discovered that Mr. Alper’s nasty temperament is as legendary as his remarkable selection of vintage goosenecks. But we don’t mind. In fact, we kind of like it — as long as Modern Lighting continues its bright homage to the wonderful lightness of being.

The Loser Line is arguably the cleverest bit of radio in the Valley, brought to you by the DJ duo of Kid and Ruben S who handle this too-short segment of the morning show perfectly. The premise is simple. Girls can call the station and get a phone number to give to guys — total losers, of course — who hit on them at clubs, in class, at the gym, wherever those annoying encounters take place. Guys call the number thinking they’re calling the girl. Instead, the message machine is really at the radio station and their incredibly fumbling attempts to get laid are broadcast to thousands of listeners. Some morons call over and over, some are drunk, some are simply pathetic. All are hilarious. (“I’ve called you five times. How come you never call back? You’re so hot. Please. Call me. Okay? I looovvve you.”) We looovvve the calls from the girlfriends/wives who find the number in their man’s pocket. (“You bitch. Don’t even think he’s going to call you. I’ll kick your ass.”) Funny, too, was the high school principal who thought he was calling a student’s house to discuss problems at school with her parents. Or the woman who gave the number to her gynecologist who called — twice — with test results (“It’s very urgent that you call us right away”). Great stuff! Even if you have to tune in at 7 a.m. when the Loser Line airs.

As if the northwest section of Grand Avenue isn’t scary enough after dark, there’s that giant Mr. Lucky’s vintage marquee that’s been putting the “yeeeeeeee” in “yee-haw” for coulrophobiacs (that’s clown fearers to you) since the mid-’60s. For the mime dreaders, jack-in-the-box shunners and people who just plain freak out at the sight of Bozo, imagine cowering in the neon of a maniacally jeering jester springing some 40 feet high, balancing “COCKTAILS” and “DANCING” from each hand as if they were “HATE” and “FEAR” tattooed on his knuckles. By now you’ve guessed that we’d rather ride the live rodeo bulls you find every weekend at Mr. Lucky’s than get a closer look at that marquee to see who’s playing Saturday night. No, that would mean feeling Lucky the Clown’s creepy peepers peering down into our souls, rightly sizing us up as pintsize wussies who can’t even relax at a children’s party if there’s a juggler with drawn-on tears. Inside, Mr. Lucky’s has real living, breathing clowns doing face painting, but even those white faces pale compared to the outdoor giant.

In its two prolific years of existence, this performance space/art gallery/espresso bar has graced downtown Phoenix with a wonderfully weird, unpredictable lineup of free or cheap entertainment and cultural happenings, making it a magnet for local creative types. On any given night of the week, Paper Heart might be hosting punk bands, experimental groups or singer-songwriters, improv comedy, spoken word, tango lessons, film screenings or performance art. Every few months, the place usually throws a bash with a bit of all of the above. First Friday events are fun, too, with live music to complement paintings or photography by local artists adorning the gallery walls.

From its retro angular roof to its neon lights, Christown Lanes looks like a throwback to bowling’s 1950s heyday. But once inside, the 48 shining synthetic lanes designed to enhance the “hook and spin” bowler’s game boldly proclaim that Christown is still at the forefront of the Valley’s bowling renaissance.

The ultra-clean alley sports new carpet, spotless rest rooms and a snack bar. Even better: non-smoking lanes. But there is also plenty of room for getting rowdy at the pool tables in The Legends nightclub featuring karaoke on Friday nights.

The lanes host regional Professional Bowlers Association tournaments and the popular Strike Force Tour, and have leagues for kids to seniors. It’s rock ‘n’ roll time on Friday and Saturday at 10:30 p.m. when black lights and strobes enshroud the lanes for Extreme Bowling ($14 for two and a half hours, including shoes). Reservations are recommended.

The friendly staff is always ready to help, including providing bargain-priced personal lessons. Ask for desk attendant Jeremy McElliot, who has a half-dozen perfect 300 games to his credit.

There are not many things more annoying than being hit on at a shooting range, or being offered help shooting “that cute little gun.” This is why we love the Ben Avery Shooting Facility’s Annie Oakley Sure Shots program, and the Thursday “ladies’ night.” Created to provide a safe atmosphere for women to learn about and practice shooting firearms, the group was founded to provide instruction and mentoring for women, by women. Thursday night is always free for women. The facility, run by the Arizona Game and Fish Department, has a highly trained staff, safety officers, ear and eye protection, free ammunition, and a variety of firearms in a range of calibers. It even has complimentary gun locks. Membership in the club is also free. No knowledge or possession of firearms is necessary, and you can progress at whatever pace is most comfortable for you. Whether you’re an experienced shooter or have never held a gun in your life, this is the place to go if you want to learn more, or just practice in a testosterone-light zone.

With fresh white walls, great lighting and a dramatically high ceiling, this cavernous warehouse turned gallery space not only does justice to the intriguing art on display, but also to the downtown pretty things who turn up in droves on First Fridays to check out the work as well as each other. Any given month, monOrchid might also be hosting a hip local band or DJ, a fashion show, or even film screenings, giving the whole place a kind of dynamic vibe that you would imagine came out of Andy Warhol’s Factory — if only it had cropped up in the middle of the desert, not downtown Manhattan.

Mill Avenue is the heart of downtown Tempe, and there’s no better place to see the pulse of living than this urban strip. Arizona State University brings college kids in proximity, but it’s also a popular spot for cruising and hanging out. The voyeur within us likes to sit back and watch the eclectic mix of teens, the young hippies selling hemp products with their dogs, punks with dyed hair spiked with egg whites, motorcycle gangs gawking at each other’s crotch rockets, and even suburban families who have stumbled onto the scene. With such an array of characters, it is like watching a Fellini movie. Now that’s what we call entertainment, and it’s free.

Rather than killing us softly with your song, why not swing into this store and set yourself up for private, in-home karaoke humiliation. A mere $67.99 scores the most basic setup, but — as Britney is well aware — the more money one invests in equipment, the better one sounds. Fancier systems carry options such as a digital key controller that adjusts the singer’s range, and microphones that regulate bass and treble levels. After ringing up headphones, wireless mikes, amplifiers, lighting gear and a specially built karaoke chair, it’s time to name the tunes: country, cock rock, rap, Spanish, oldies, Broadway, gospel or children’s. If Velvet Elvis: Songs of the King and Sing Like Celine Dion, volumes 1 through 4, don’t rock your boat, pick up a copy of Kiss This, and belt out “Lick It Up” at your next Tupperware party. Don’t forget the tambourine, maracas and disco ball.

Why did the Phoenix Baptist Hospital patient cross Bethany Home Road? To get to the Recovery Room. No joke. After enduring a hospital stay with $23 gelatin cups and flavorless IV drips, dischargees will liken this tavern’s food specials to deep-fried manna from heaven. Free chili from noon to 5 p.m. on Sundays, 99-cent quarter-pound burgers during NFL games, and a daily dollar lunch special: From 11 a.m. to 3 p.m., buy any beverage and get a hamburger, cheeseburger, chicken sandwich or dos tacos for 99 cents. (All the better to fill out that hospital gown during your next bypass.) Plus, hospital workers who flash an ID badge score their second drink for a quarter. We can’t resist saying it: It’s a health of a deal.

It seems that the traditional places to pick up men or women have become tired. That ultimate classic, the bar, has become stale and it tends to carry a Cheers quality to it — you know, “Everyone knows your . . . name.” The second is a shot in the dark and scary: the personals. How many horror stories have you heard? Rest stops require driving, and, let’s face it, not much to choose from. So, where does a single stand? At Bally Total Fitness, of course. This has become a mecca for beefcake of all varieties. Mmm, we’re talking USDA prime cut meat here. There is plenty to choose from, and the simple fact is that if they are at the gym they must care about getting physical. There’s equipment, but who are we fooling? More important, there’s plenty of scenery to motivate you through that workout. So, boys and girls, pump some iron and if the stars align, find that elusive catch.

Six months ago, nobody in Phoenix — make that nobody in Major League Baseball — knew the first thing about Brandon Webb.

And while Phoenix has yet to realize what a rare gem he is, the rest of the country has jumped on the B-train. Brandon Webb is one of the country’s few legitimate rookie pitching phenoms, and he couldn’t have arrived at a better time for the Arizona Diamondbacks.

With Randy Johnson and Curt Schilling nearing the end of their careers, Webb has given D-Backs fans a new beginning. He is the future, the national poster boy of the emerging Baby-Backs.

The 2.45 ERA as of mid-August. Sixteen quality starts out of 18. Arguably the most wicked sinker in all of baseball. This from a low-round draft choice who just happened to do what thousands of others fail to do: refine spectacularly a raw and wild talent.

Now the D-Backs and their fans have the best of all worlds: a genial, fan-friendly star whose stay should be measured in decades, not months. Thanks, Brandon, for making the future look bright for baseball in the Valley.

Readers’ Choice: Luis Gonzalez

Contrary to popular belief, downtown Phoenix isn’t the only place to see what up-and-coming Valley creative types are up to. In fact, right in the midst of Scottsdale’s prestigious gallery row lies Art One, a cutting-edge art space showcasing the work of talented student artists from area colleges and universities, as well as local artists just beginning to make names for themselves. While its location might leave you scratching your head at first, it actually makes perfect sense: When Art One’s artists graduate to the next level in their careers, they only need to cross the street to get to some of the Southwest’s most established art dealers. This gallery is also remarkably accessible, not only to unknown artists, but to patrons as well. Prices hover in the two- to three-digit range.

Since it opened less than a year ago, Perihelion has brought the Phoenix art scene to a whole new level. Sure, we already had plenty of spaces for experimental work, and Scottsdale long ago covered the bases on upscale art establishments. But when Perihelion owners Amy Young and Doug Grant came back to the Valley after living in New York City, they brought along an aesthetic that defines some of the hippest galleries in the country, and oozes off the pages of Robert Williams’ Juxtapoz magazine: lowbrow art. With a tongue-in-cheek take on pop culture, and an often dark edge to boot, it’s got street cred. The gallery also offers Phoenix’s best selection of weird reads, with occult titles and plenty of underground art books.

We rarely answer the costly call of movie snacks, but at Madstone, we make concessions. Boasting biscotti, imported chocolate and an espresso bar, this theater of seduction offers the substantial (turkey and Brie on sourdough) and the sweet (fresh-baked carrot cake, brownies and lemon bars from a nearby bakery). Now that we’ve feasted on Madstone’s soft, hot pretzels, mere Milk Duds will never do. Stuffed with marinara sauce and sprinkled with Parmesan, the pizza pretzel is perfect with a bottle of New Belgium Sunshine Wheat or even a glass of Pinot Grigio. And while snackers can shake up their popcorn with special seasonings — chocolate-marshmallow, white Cheddar or Parmesan-garlic — we feel no need. This corn is bathed in real butter, a rare find in the cinematic sector.

Readers’ Choice: Harkins Theatres

“I’ve been fired from every job I’ve had and I’ll be fired from this one too,” Phoenix’s best in-your-face television reporter says with obvious pride.

Eschewing cell phones, pagers, and, most incredibly, computers, Watkiss relies instead on his quick wit and the timely thrust of his microphone into the faces of often reluctant newsmakers.

Watkiss, with the strong support of news producer Dennis O’Neil, consistently delivers solid reporting on an amazing array of topics ranging from murders (the O.J. Simpson case) to personalities (Liz Taylor) to the sexual abuse of underage girls at the hands of Mormon fundamentalists. Watkiss doesn’t mind going solo on stories, carrying his personal $5,000 video camera and doubling up as reporter and videographer in a pinch.

A Stanford grad who studied anthropology before earning his master’s in journalism from Columbia University, Watkiss developed a thick skin working eight years as a general assignment reporter for A Current Affair.

Maybe that’s why Watkiss is impervious to the insults, jostling and nasty comments frequently tossed his way as he cuts through the crap and delivers red meat to viewers craving some real news.

Readers’ Choice for Best TV Newscaster: Kent Dana