People & Places

Though nobody knows her real name, "Cake Lady," as downtowners have affectionately dubbed her, continues to contribute to central Phoenix lore. In short, there's a woman about town who occasionally shows up at gatherings (a music performance, an art exhibit) looking for free stuff, especially cake. The consensus is that she reads New Times (a smart woman, indeed) and then calls ahead to inquire about the possibility of free goodies. She's been spotted only a couple of times, including years ago at a birthday party at the now-defunct Paper Heart, where she briefly showed up, then dashed out the door with a bunch of cake to go. Hey, Cake Lady, share some next time!

Yes, you're reading that right. No, we're not heat-addled.

Summer in Phoenix rules.

We first noticed this seeming contraction one day several years ago when all the traffic on Indian School Road dried up. Poof! It was like a scene from I Am Legend or Vanilla Sky. And it made us ponder the other positives of a season in which temps can hit the 120s in the shade and you can get a third-degree burn on your butt just by getting in your car.

The sunsets. The storms. The long light of evenings. The short lines at our favorite hangs. The full-moon hikes. The abundant parking at Piestewa Peak. The pool parties. The misters. The cheap resort rates. The free Sunday-afternoon films at the Phoenix Art Museum.

More than specific pleasures, though, our late-blooming appreciation of Phoenix summer has to do with the sense of inclusion we feel from Memorial Day through late September. For 120-odd days, it's our town — not the fifth-largest city in America. It feels like a community.

It's hot, but it's home.

It was weird, right? This year, summer didn't really start 'til July. Sure, we had a hot day here and there, but any true Phoenician knows to brace for the heat starting in, oh, March. Not so in 2009, and June was particularly balmy. If you don't believe us, check out the stats: We haven't had this many days under 100 in the month of June (only 13!) since 1927. Which only made July the cruelest month — when, as if on cue, the temperature soared.

Here at New Times, we know maps. We've spent countless hours trying to assemble them for our own various purposes. That's why we have such an appreciation for the Small Wonders map, published by Local First Arizona, designed to promote local businesses in both central/downtown Phoenix and Tempe. Consider this our thank you note for the labor of love it took to create these fold-out, easy-to-use, eye-pleasing guides to our favorite stuff in the city. It was surely no small feat to produce them.

Depending on whom you ask, the year-old Metro light rail may or may not be the most over-hyped project in Phoenix history. But no matter what you think of the billion-dollar (and counting!) project, you have to admit the view of the Phoenix skyline from the bridge going over Tempe Town Lake is pretty amazing, especially at dusk. From the confines of the always overpacked or nearly empty train car, you get a glimpse of Phoenix at its best. The downtown towers reach ever higher, their steady ascent seemingly fueled by the mysterious desert waters around you, but they never quite catch their backdrop, South Mountain. As the copper-colored star fades into the purplish haze of an Arizona sunset, even the most curmudgeonly rail-hater has to be impressed by the beautiful scene framed through the windows of this ambitious transportation project.

We are so over Mill Avenue. We are so over Mill, in fact, that we're even done complaining about it. These days, we're just feeling a little sad over what are becoming such distant memories of the heyday of Arizona State's main drag — just about the only spot in metropolitan Phoenix that ever had hope of hopping.

In the past year, things got even worse. Tempe Marketplace sucked pretty much what was left of the retail off Mill. Even Coffee Plantation bailed. Now, it's mostly a lot of empty storefronts and buildings a, testament to the worst of the failed local economy.

But don't call code on the patient quite yet. Just recently, we've started hearing word that things might finally turn around on Mill. The new director of Downtown Tempe Community Inc., Nancy Hormann, is rumored to be a real live wire (in a good way) and MADCAP Theaters (www.madcaptheaters.com) has moved into the old Harkins movie house at Centerpoint, planning to turn it into alternative performance spaces. Then we heard that Tempe finally has its own farmers market, Market on Mill (www.marketonmill.org).

At this rate, Mill Avenue might just get there. And that would have us dancing in the streets.

Driving in the Valley is usually pretty bo-ring, with its straight streets and backdrop of baby-puke-colored strip malls. That's why we're all about cruising the Loop 202, not only for its connectedness to the East Valley and Southeast Valley, but because of something normally not found in the States: roundabouts. We especially like to get our Euro on at the two circular structures at the McKellips Road interchange in Mesa. The traffic calmers are also located at Brown Road and University Drive, but the two on eastbound McKellips win, hands-down, due to kick-butt views of the Superstition Mountains, Four Peaks, and Red Mountain.

In a city built on a grid, it's no surprise that one of the few major stretches of twisty, kooky street is the best block in town. The winding road that is Seventh Avenue between Indian School and Camelback practically foretold this neighborhood's quirky style and severe case of The Funk. When city assessors were scoping out Phoenix and drawing lines that would become streets, a miscalculation created what came to be endearingly dubbed "the curve." Now home to a slew of restaurants, bars, vintage shops, music stores, and a pet shop named The Pampered Parrot, this block boasts some of the best shopping in central Phoenix. Unlike other parts of town, where older buildings are so yesterday, here they're celebrated, restored, and renamed to reflect their history. Like the Wagon Wheel building, which houses Melrose Pharmacy; Copper Star Coffee, where patrons fill up on caffeine instead of gas; or Exposed Gallery, where you'll find art hanging in what was once a giant vault. Melrose on Seventh always seems to have something going on, and that's why it is, indeed, the best stretch around.

If you doubt that Phoenix has come a long way, baby, check out this winner. Montebello and 19th Avenue used to be a dusty spot overlooking a sketchy mall with boarded-up businesses and a parking lot with more potholes than asphalt. Now, it's prime people-watching for the thousands who park and ride on Metro light rail every day. Naysayers who thought the light rail was little more than an urban pipe dream need look no further. Hipsters, bike riders, and suburban families line up en masse to board the trains. This park-and-ride spot is so successful that it's caused management of the new SuperTarget to post reminders that their parking lot is for shoppers, not mass transit riders. A public-transit success in this city? From this well-kept and furiously busy corner, you can watch it happen.

Though we'd love to give this category's award to a gorgeous Art Deco plaza or turn-of-the-century Gothic building, we're learning to embrace the realities of our fair city — which often means new construction. The developers of Mesa's Dana Park ventured beyond the modern cookie-cutter plan to create a new breed of strip mall that resembles an upscale Main Street. Yes, you'll find a host of chain stores here, such as Ann Taylor Loft and Apple, but there's also a handful of small businesses, including an ice cream parlor and two adorable children's boutiques. We admit we mainly come to Dana Park for the larger stores' clearance sections. The plaza isn't as busy as Scottsdale Fashion Square, so the clearance section at the Dana Park Anthropologie is bigger and better, not having been picked over. With fountains, a palatial white exterior, and shimmering ceiling-to-floor curtains flanking one retailer's grand entranceway, you can almost forget Dana Park is a strip mall. Almost.

Fans of old houses and cool architecture have grown accustomed to two types of home tours: those hosted by downtown's historic neighborhoods, like Encanto Palmcroft and F.Q. Story, and those private affairs hosted by snooty-boots homeowners who want to show off the glass-and-cement masterpiece they've just dropped onto the desert of north Scotts­dale. And then there's the annual Modern Phoenix Expo and Home Tour, which used to be one of the city's best-kept secrets but sold out this year in a matter of days and is now considered the hot ticket among Mid-Century aficionados. That's because instead of throwing open the doors to one lovely old neighborhood, the MoPhos provide a walking tour of a half-dozen or so modern homes in the Uptown Phoenix and Arcadia neighborhoods, including structures designed by Ralph Haver, Al Beadle, Calvin Straub, and Ned Sawyer, to name a few.

And they don't stop there. The tour, which typically takes place in April, includes an expo that gives participants an interactive view into restored Mid-Century homes, and at which local architects and experts discuss the importance of documenting the Valley's endangered pool of world-class Mid-Century Modern architecture. No wonder the event is now so popular. Make your reservation for next year now.

In the realm of central Phoenix historic districts, Del Norte Place is flanked by some heavy hitters: Encanto-Palmcroft, Willo, Roosevelt, and F.Q. Story. But this little sleeper of a neighborhood, dating to the 1920s, is an idyllic place. Its broad, tree-lined streets and carefully manicured lawns make you feel you're somewhere else, like Mayberry. People hang out on their front porches and kids ride their bikes and play in the street. The architecture varies from English Cottage to California ranch, with front porches rather than monster garages.

Spend any time here and it's evident that this is a tight-knit neighborhood. The well-organized Del Norte Place Neighborhood Association is all about being, well, neighborly. They organize neighborhood yard sales and get together for summer BBQs, holiday parties, and Easter egg hunts. Now, who's got the apple pie?

Mormons are proficient at lots of things — Jell-O salads and genealogy, to name just two. If you've ever had an interest in learning about your family tree, they can help you get started, no matter what your religion (or lack thereof). The Mesa Regional Family History Center is affiliated with the Mormon Church but is open to the general public. It's free and chock-full of useful classes, workshops, online tutorials, and research help. One of the highlights is the Hispanic training section, with programs in Spanish and English. With their hands-on workshops and assistance in navigating Internet genealogy sites, the volunteers at the Mesa Regional Family History Center know their stuff. They can help you plan your search and get you started. Registration required for some classes.

Historically speaking, Phoenix is a young town. There are no Medieval castles or Colonial courthouses, and most of the historic properties that do exist here have fallen into disrepair or been long forgotten. That's why we were thrilled to see the city invest two years and over $5 million in the restoration of Steele Indian School Park's Memorial Hall, which stood vacant since the '90s. Built in 1922, the gorgeous brick building features Mission Revival-style architecture, arched windows, and huge interior ballrooms originally used for school assemblies. Much of the building's original character remains, from exterior bricks bearing the names of former students to the refinished hardwood floors. The city isn't a Grinch with the newly prettified space either — Memorial Hall is open for tours, private parties, and the 350-seat theater rents to local dance companies.

Old buildings are torn down all too often in our neck of the woods. It's sad to watch bits of our history razed, especially when what appears in its place is often boring, ugly, or even worse, part of a corporate chain with an outlet on every corner. That's what makes PaisleyTown, the quaint village of outbuildings behind Grand Avenue's Paisley Violin, so special. These brightly colored little houses have quite a past. Constructed during World War II to house Italian and German prisoners of war, they've made their way to a quickly developing part of downtown. Loaded onto trucks and moved from their former home at 19th Avenue and McDowell Road, the cottages underwent the mother of all refurbs and fought their way through a year's worth of red tape to emerge all shiny and new. Even better, they've come full circle in their purpose. Instead of housing POWs, they now house emerging businesses. A hair salon, a gallery, a designer, and a vintage clothing store are but a few of the establishments giving new life to old buildings with a bellicose past.

Remember Sapna's Chillout Café at the downtown Phoenix Public Market? We do, because we'd actually wait in line there to taste an icy Grenada and some takeaway tahini-infused hummus. Now we go to Bragg's Pie Factory Building on Grand for the same tasty bites, but also because we love the funny, wedge-shaped interior of this groovy old structure. Owner Ana Borrajo has created a casual menu based in popular street foods from around the world, and she serves it up in a slice-of-pie-shaped glass enclosure, one of Phoenix's last examples of Streamline Moderne architecture. The Wi-Fi is free and the ambiance is unlike anyplace else. Glossy white walls hung with bright-colored Indian saris, smooth white cafe tables, leggy black chairs, and shiny stained-concrete floors all combine in a cozy slice of the past that's worth at least a peek.

No offense intended, but this place looks like a giant wedding cake. That is to say, a wedding cake frosted in yellow that's been bedazzled and covered in paste jewels. A wedding cake for a drag queen, maybe. Whatever you call it, the Islamic Mosque in Tempe is a favorite among locals who love unusual architecture. The Mosque, established just north of ASU's campus in 1984, is modeled after the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem. Its eight-sided structure features a minaret and a gold dome, which is something one doesn't see every day in Southwest cities. We love its glittery façade and its multi-textured exterior walls, which appear to have been hand-painted in a way that makes them appear almost tattooed. Check it out — and tell them Allah sent you.

We're in love with the downtown post office, plain and simple. It speaks to our fondness for old architecture, with its wide stone steps leading up to the front door, over which a giant lantern sways in front of an elaborate glass-and-grillwork doorway framed by concrete columns on either side. Inside we can't help but ooh and ahh over old (and rather cheesy) Southwestern-themed murals, commissioned in 1938 by the Fine Arts Section of the Treasury Department and painted by La Verne Black and Oscar E. Berninghaus. We usually make a beeline for the rows of ancient P.O. boxes, with their coppery metal doors, oversize keyholes, and little glass windows etched with gold and red numbers in an old-timey font. Built between 1932 and 1936, the two-story structure's maiden name is The Phoenix Federal Building, as its construction was part of a massive federal program undertaken in an attempt to forestall the Great Depression. The gorgeous Spanish Colonial Revival building, which opened to the public in 1936 and housed the city's main post office for more than 30 years, is the only federal building from the period still standing here. But even if it were surrounded by dozens of others, we'd still love the old P.O. the best. Arizona State University occupies much of the building now. Given ASU's bad track record with historic buildings, we plan to keep a close eye on one of our favorite Phoenix landmarks.

It's a Phoenix thing: There are a lot of buildings here that just aren't what they once were. Our personal fave is Breuners. Oops, we mean the Scottsdale Post Office on Scottsdale Road just north of McDowell. Not long after Breuners went belly-up in 2007, the post office moved in and turned this former furniture store into a place where one can buy stamps or send a box of cookies to one's aunt in Pennsylvania. And, because Phoenix architecture is just weird enough that it's entirely likely that someone may very well have designed a postal station fronted with glass showroom panels and giant display windows, it works. The former Breuners' long, low, peaked façade and big, ugly wrought-iron chandelier over the door are perfect for a south Scottsdale public building. It's enough to make you go out of your way just to buy a shipping carton.

Arizona's best Roald Dahl-style "Great Glass Elevator" is at the Hyatt Regency in downtown Phoenix. It whooshes you skyward to the 24th floor, the home of the revolving Compass Restaurant. As you shoot up, it's fun to lean forward and place your forehead against the glass, giving yourself just a drop of vertigo. At the top, if you're feeling flush, grab a cocktail or bite to eat at the restaurant, which rotates slowly atop the hotel, giving you one of the coolest views of the Valley. Otherwise, just stand around like a looky-loo for a few minutes, and then enjoy the elevator ride back down again.

Can't afford that vacation to Italy you've been dreaming of? Us, either. But do you have enough gas money to get to Gilbert? If so, you're in luck. But be sure to guzzle something on the way, so you have a reason to use the loo.

Each of the five stalls at Liberty Market — restaurateur Joe Johnston's latest brainchild — reflects a different scene. There's an Italian adventure, complete with Vespa logos and streaming opera music. And there's a real men's room, with photos of hot rods and hot chicks, punk rock on the stereo, and (sorry, ladies) just a urinal. But wait, there's more. Behind door number three is an ocean motif. Don't think of it as a toilet. Think of it as an undersea getaway, with blue tile and a sea anemone light fixture. Another bathroom is built for the chef in each of us. The walls are lined with handwritten recipes and photos of Liberty Market chef David Traina doing what he does best. Don't forget to look up or you'll miss the whisks hanging from the ceiling.

The inclusion of an iPod-ready adapter for an in-room stereo is a hotel convenience not to be underestimated. Taking your iPod to the lobby bar and subjecting guests to your favorite Japanese tracks during Aloft's weekly DJ nights is added value we just can't put a price tag on. That's why we're up for staying at Aloft even though we live a skip away. Owned and crafted by W Hotels, Aloft packs enough swank to make this budget boutique hotel seem more like a Scottsdale club with beds than a motel near ASU. Amenities include a sweet pool, fire pits, and milk and cookies on demand. Have we found Heaven?

Waves were made in July when local artist/designer/anti-establishment thinker Joey Grether pumped out a local currency called Phx Bux. The small metal tokens are worth a dollar each and accepted by more than 20 independent businesses. The idea is to keep the money moving locally and draw the attention of consumers who may be tired of shopping at malls and eating at chain restaurants. The coins themselves are a work of art. Designed by Chadwick Rueling jewelry, the square token features an outstretched palm, signifying the reliance on artists' hands for their creations and the helping hands of our arts community. Trouble is, Phx Bux got so popular so fast that folks started hoarding the coins and making them into jewelry. Within the first month, we were hard-pressed to get more than one at a time from any of the businesses that still had any, making it pretty clear that demand for this currency is high.

Finally, you no longer have to be rich to feel educated and fancy, thanks to a nifty invention, courtesy of the Valley's library systems and museums, called the Culture Pass. If you're a library cardholder, you can walk into one of six Valley libraries and choose one of 13 Valley museums to visit — gratis. You will get a slip, and then you head to your destination before the slip expires. It's as easy as that. Looks like the best things in life really can be free.

Now, now. Before you get too excited, we'd like to note that though the Phoenix Art Museum does offer free entry once a week, you are encouraged to make a small donation. So don't be a total freeloader. At least shovel out the change you found under your couch cushions to drop in the box as you take your date (poor girl) to the free night. From 3 to 9 p.m. on Wednesdays, you'll get way more than what you pay for with the opportunity to see the Valley's largest museum and a lineup worthy of major name-dropping. The museum's permanent collection includes works by Frida Kahlo, Georgia O'Keeffe, James Turrell, Claude Monet, Diego Rivera, Grandma Moses, and Chuck Close in more than 20,000 square feet, enough room to also include works by artists you haven't even heard of yet. Add the convenience of the light rail and it's a no-brainer, folks.

Get your culture free in downtown Scottsdale. Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art offers free entry every Thursday from 10 a.m. to 8 p.m. (Donations are accepted.) Situated in the Scottsdale Civic Center next to some of the city's hottest spots, including AZ88 and the Mondrian, the museum is one of our favorite stops for contemporary art shows. With just a handful of galleries, the museum is totally doable in an hour or two, and your butt won't hurt from all the standing and walking you do at larger museums. You'll have time and cash for cocktails afterward.

Every few months, the Glendale Community College Percussion Ensemble holds free concerts in the school's cozy and acoustically awesome auditorium. The programs, which take place a few times each semester, are more experimental in scope (think John Cage and Steve Reich), and sometimes stray away from the classical idiom altogether — one gig featured the music of Mr. Bungle, Frank Zappa, and Billy Joel. But no matter what your ears are accustomed to, the group will certainly satisfy in some way. It is one of the largest and best community college programs for percussion music in the country.

Can't afford a night at Symphony Hall? Don't fret, because you can catch Phoenix Symphony musicians performing in intimate venues for only a 10-spot. Concerts, which take place every few months, are performed at various downtown art spaces. This rules, because there's always an awesome art backdrop for the music. The majority of the compositions — which are programmed by the unflappable Mark Dix, a violist with the Phoenix Symphony — cater toward those who love the classical classics, such as Bartók and Bach. The series does mix in contemporary numbers here and there — including the you-totally-missed-out-if-you-weren't-there interpretation of George Crumb's Black Angels for electric string quartet at the Icehouse, which featured amplified instruments for the first time in the series' 10-year history.

Times are tough, and nobody knows this as well as your local theater companies. Actors Theatre of Phoenix, one of only a handful of professional troupes in the state, wants not only to stay in business, but wants us to be able to afford to see its often marvelous productions at the Herberger Theater Center as well. Toward that end, it's offering season ticket holders a Flex Pass, good for four admissions to any weeknight or Sunday performance of an Actors Theatre show. For about $150, playgoers can enjoy an entire season of professionally produced plays and musicals. What's more, the passes can be used in any combination, at any time, for any of the company's shows (except for A Christmas Carol, which the company presents each December). This must be why they're called flex passes, right?

One of the reasons we make this place home is the fact that we can be outside at night in November and not freeze our butts off. Not only that — we can watch movies under the stars! Biltmore Fashion Park has a complimentary film series, which runs from October through December. Featuring classic titles and holiday favorites, the series is free and open to the public. All films are screened on Friday evenings at 7:30. Grab a blanket or some lawn chairs, pop some popcorn, and get there early to reserve your spot on the grass. Our favorite part is when audience members collectively recite dialogue from well-loved scenes.

We love this little theater for its cheap movies, and even more for the free bonus we get when we walk in the door. Dollar-theater lobbies are often some of the sketchier places you'll find in suburban strip malls, filled with broken arcade games and dirtbag teenagers. Not Pollack Tempe Cinemas. Local real estate tycoon Michael Pollack decided to pull out all the stops when he redesigned the lobby of this little theater, outfitting it with a Chuck E. Cheese-style animatronic band, statues of celebrities, and a wax museum of former presidents (Nixon through Clinton) that'll leave you wondering why anyone pays more than $3 for entry to Madame Tussauds. Hell, there are even chandeliers hanging above the impressive collection of Hollywood memorabilia. The next time you're interested in seeing Paul Blart: Mall Cop for the fifth time, drop by Pollack, and plan to have enough time to get your picture taken with the über-creepy Jimmy Carter statue.

There is nothing quite like the feel-good moment of biting into a homemade cupcake, unless it's knowing your sugar rush went to a worthy cause. Bake for Hope organizes weeklong bake sales, with 100 percent of the proceeds going to breast cancer charities. The Phoenix chapter, with only two months of organization this year, sponsored seven sales and raised more than $3,000, catapulting itself to the top slot for sales nationwide. Impressive, considering most items sold for a buck. During this year's local sales — held the week before Mother's Day — we scarfed up "Elvis" cupcakes (peanut butter/chocolate/banana), Bundt cakes, savory herb biscuits, gourmet brownies, and every flavor of cookie imaginable. As the local organizer of Bake for Hope, Julie Zagars, tells buyers, "If it's for charity, that removes all the calories."

There are a ton of geeks around these days, so this one was tough to narrow down, but when you've got a group whose sole reason for existence is an 11-episode TV series that was axed in 2002, well, maybe it's not so tough after all.

These do-gooder space cases reside in a place called the Whedonverse — named for Joss Whedon, creator of the TV hit Buffy the Vampire Slayer and, more to the point, the character-based sci-fi oater Firefly. The original run of Firefly was butchered by Fox (the network ran the episodes out of sequence) and then unceremoniously canceled, but its fanatical followers, called Browncoats after the lead character's signature duster, have kept its memory alive via good deeds.

Arizona's Browncoats chapter meets monthly for "shindigs" at Bookman's (see www.bookmans.com/events) and also hosts regular Firefly-related charitable events.

If you only knew the charitable contributions of the dark side of the force, you'd know precisely why we've picked the Dune Sea Garrison as the best nerds with a cause. The garrison is the Arizona chapter of the 501st Legion, a worldwide organization of Star Wars costume makers who use their movie-accurate bad-guy outfits to walk for multiple sclerosis or bring smiles to Star Wars fans in children's hospitals. Locally, Dune Sea stormtroopers have been popping up at Phoenix Children's Hospital, Challenger Learning Center, and Tucson's UMC hospital. Maybe the Empire isn't all bad.

About a decade ago, a veteran Phoenix sports medicine doc named Paul Steingard started this laudable volunteer program hoping to save the lives of young athletes who, unknowingly, are at risk for sudden cardiac arrest and other potentially dangerous medical conditions. This year, more than 2,000 students — eighth grade through community college — went through the free TOPS screenings, held on a Saturday at a Phoenix high school. The screenings include comprehensive cardiac and other testing, conducted by a cool group of docs, nurses and other healthcare types — physical therapists, physician and nursing assistants, and a slew of osteopathic medical students. The TOPS program quietly has become a must-do for young athletes of all stripes. For this, we thank them.

Found yourself thinking, "I need help"? Thought so. That's why we love Fresh Start Women's Foundation. Located in downtown Phoenix, the Jewell McFarland Lewis Fresh Start Women's Resource Center was the first comprehensive self-help center for women in the country. The center is designed for women 18 and older, and with $5 workshops on everything from crisis budgeting, family law support services, career services, getting in touch with loss and grief, blended families, and inner-beauty boot camps, there is something for everyone — no matter where you are in life. Start by attending Fresh Start 101 (no charge), which offers an overview of how to access and utilize services to meet your needs.

Escape from Cubicle Nation. It's a great name and a great sentiment. And it's just what Pamela Slim helps her clients do everyday — and she does it all from her living room in Mesa.

A certified life coach who trained with Martha Beck (of Oprah fame) and a specialist in business and community development, Pam Slim is a bona fide entrepreneur. She has traveled the world, worked with some of the biggest companies around, started her own business, and helped countless others to start theirs. Six years ago, she indeed in Mesa, got married (to a Navajo man who owns a construction business), and had two children. Settle down she did not.

Instead, this self-made wonder woman transitioned her consulting business, Ganas (that's Spanish for "drive"), to the Web with a blog that has gained an international following, www.escapefromcubiclenation.com, and she wrote a book by the same name. Now, she is, once again, traveling the globe, teaching workshops and giving speeches to anyone who wants to figure out how to escape from their cubicle and start their own business. For hundred of clients, Slim has made the phrase "don't quit your day job" sound like a joke.

Usually the word "ambassador" conjures up images of overpaid, overindulged, three-piece-suit-wearing foreign dignitaries who don't have to pay their parking tickets. In downtown Phoenix, it means friendly folks who will answer questions, show you around, and even walk you to your car. Dressed in orange shirts brighter than a hunting vest, they're like urban Boy Scouts who are always prepared and looking to do a good deed. Need to find parking? No problem. They'll help you find an available lot. Can't find a restaurant open after a game? No worries, they'll show you where to go. Can't figure out where to find a cocktail? That's an easy one. On bikes loaded down with maps, fliers, directories, and even bottled water, Copper Square Ambassadors make getting lost an adventure. Who knows what they'll help you find?

While big chunks of downtown Phoenix are developing spaces for mega-corporations and ultra-spendy lofts, it seems there's nary a hope left for the entrepreneur who wants to get a business off the ground. That's why we love .anti_space. Located on the corner of Fourth Street and McKinley, this L-shaped conclave is helping the little guy grow his vision and climb the counterculture corporate ladder. With rents that are manageable and just enough space to get an aspiring tycoon started, .anti_space is the spot that's launched a load of indie businesses — all packed with hipster cred — including Pravus Gallery, Mint Vintage Clothing, Conspire, and Butter Toast. It's called progress, baby. .anti_space is proof positive that there's still a place for small-business owners to get established and then make room for the next generation.

Now that Melrose on Seventh has emerged as the 'Who's Who' of CenPho shopping districts, what better way to solidify your status as a killer 'hood than a street festival? And when it comes to neighborhood street festivals, no one does it better than Melrose on Seventh. Recently celebrating its eighth year, this annual festival keeps getting bigger and better. Nowadays, the entire swath of Seventh Avenue between Indian School and Camelback is closed off to make room for the 10,000 or so people who pack the street to join the party. Quirky vendors, food, and, of course, cotton candy are all present and accounted for in the area known as "the curve." Car fans line up to peep the sleek, metal machines in a classic car show, a nod to the street's old-school flair and venerable neighborhood business, Chester's Garage. Kiddies, too, are in the mix as crafts and events were added just for them. We can't forget the bands, either, as the main stage rocks into the night. We can't think of a better way for a neighborhood to signal that it's arrived.

Nothing says spring like a couple of nikku-filled onigiri and a little taiko. Can't understand us? Don't turn on the subtitles, just head to Matsuri for a couple of meat-filled rice balls and a little Japanese drumming. This downtown Phoenix festival celebrates other aspects of Japan, like the humble bento (lunch box) and karaoke (singing like a drunken cow in public). There are also regular tea ceremonies and plenty of Nippon swag to snatch, from kimonos to manga comic books. So cast aside your Godzilla-inspired notions of Japan and gain some culture, gaijin (foreigner).

Perfect spring and fall weather make Arizona an ideal location for music festivals. There's none better than McDowell Mountain Music Festival. Like any other festival, this smallish hippie gathering at WestWorld in Scottsdale draws acts we love (The Flaming Lips) and acts we're not so crazy about (Hasidic reggae star Matisyahu). But no matter who's playing, it's always a great environment. The staff is friendly, the grass on WestWorld's polo grounds (the same sort of setting used for Coachella in California) is soft enough to warrant slipping off your sandals, and the food and drinks are reasonably priced. The New Age-y vendor area is actually an enjoyable diversion, filled with hippie artisans instead of over-tanned girls promoting liquor. Oh, and unlike most other "festivals" in town, there's actually on-site camping available! Music lovers should pencil this festival in for the last weekend of April, even before they know who's playing.

We're not sure why anyone in their right mind would try to go up against Queen Creek's most glamorous farmer's wife, Carrie Schnepf, but some politicians and neighbors did just that earlier this year. Schnepf and her husband, Mark, said they needed to host more concerts in their old cotton fields to keep their family-owned plot, Schnepf Farms, afloat in tough times for agri-tourism. The farm, which is also a peach orchard and pumpkin patch, has been hosting such events since 1994: first, Country Thunder; then, Edgefest. Neighbors — claiming to be upset about the traffic, the noise, and the profane lyrics of rock 'n' roll — decided to oppose the plan, setting up a showdown with Carrie and Mark (who, ironically, is a former mayor of Queen Creek). Attempting to keep the peace, the Schnepfs offered a compromise of only 12 days of concerts a year, earlier end times, and more fencing to keep concertgoers from trespassing, which some of their neighbors still refused. Nevertheless, in a victory we'd like to think Kevin Bacon would approve of, Queen Creek's Town Council unanimously approved the plan.

Not only did former Phoenix Suns star Charles Barkley blow through a stop sign on his way to a blowjob, he actually bragged about the jobber's skills to the cop who pulled him over. Then Barkley supposedly told an employee at the police station that he would tattoo the employee's name on his ass if he could get out of the DUI. Classic. After failing a field sobriety test and pleading guilty to drunk driving, Barkley served a breezy 36 hours in jail and was dubbed a "model inmate" by Sheriff Joe Arpaio. It seems Barkley can't get properly "served" no matter how hard he tries.

Here's a dollar figure we'd like to throw out atcha: $6,700. It's the estimated average cost in Arizona these days for getting nailed with a first-time DUI conviction, including a slew of fines, court fees, and payouts to the insurance man. (Ouch!) And now, we've got a substantially lower monetary amount for you: $55, which is the average price of having an employee of Zingo Arizona drive your drunk ass (as well as your car) home safely. A quicker alternative to most cab companies, which tend to get pretty slammed around last call, Zingo's drivers are available from 8 p.m. until 2 a.m., Tuesdays through Saturdays, to ride their portable scooters to drinkeries throughout the East Valley (other areas require an additional fee). Pick-ups are $25 and include the first three miles free, with $3 per mile thereafter (most of their trips are 10 miles or less). Sounds better than forking over a mint to the man or cooling your heels in Tent City, doesn't it, huh? Yeah, we knew you'd agree.

The police department in this tiny (but still growing, even now) town in the far West Valley used to have a reputation among other law enforcement agencies as notably inept, way behind the times, and even, gasp, corrupt. And that was even before the Maricopa County Sheriff's Office contracted to do a lot of the work inside town limits. (That agreement, which ended in 2007, was an expensive mess.) But in late 2007, retired Phoenix assistant police chief Dave Frasier assumed the mantle as El Mirage police chief and brought along two other respected Phoenix police veterans, Bill Louis and Jerry Laird. Their difficult mission: remake a police agency mired (on a good day) in mediocrity. Seems to us that El Mirage is a much safer community these days and, judging by what our prosecutor pals tell us, the department's criminal investigations are light years more professional than they were in the pre-Frasier days. For this, we give thanks.

In other parts of the country, and even the Valley, getting up close and personal with the mayor is limited to pictures in the paper, scathing editorials, and the occasional segment on the nightly news. Thanks to Mayor Phil Gordon's love of coffee and downtown Phoenix — and not to mention the fact that he's one chatty guy — you're invited to join him in a roving monthly coffee klatch. The caffeinated movable feast never sits still, just like the man himself, and we have it on good authority that he often picks up the tab. We're sure this event is enough to give fits to Gordon's staff, since the early-morning mayoral rendezvous tends to lend itself to the kind of informal banter you just won't hear anyplace else. Can you blame the mayor for going off script that early, and before at least one cup of joe? Sure, there's the requisite party pitch about downtown development or the "state of downtown," but insiders know to stick around for the no-holds-barred question-and-answer sessions at the end. If you're cultivating a career in politics, stay around for the meet-and-greet, and create your own photo-op. More than one mover or shaker has realized his or her political ambition here, but it's not all politics. Sometimes you just need a cup of coffee, and if the mayor's buying, it's pretty hard to resist.

Chris Tingom knows coffee like a veteran barista knows "the shakes." Lucky for us, he's got a steady photo hand, despite all of his caffeine consumption. Tingom brews Arizona's ultimate coffee blog day in and day out: Arizona Coffee. Tingom delicately balances news posts about coffee openings and closings with full-flavored analysis, written with a level of detail and research usually reserved for medical journals. We're especially fond of his "Latte Art Throwdown" coverage. Checking out Tingom's photos is almost like drinking the real thing.

Heather Lauer wasn't always into porcine belly meat. As the author/blogger told a correspondent for www.mrbaconpants.com last May, her infatuation with the heart-stopping delight began in the summer of 2005, when the then-partner at a D.C. consulting firm and her brothers got drunk, tipsily lit on the subject of bacon, and came up with the appellation "Best Meat Ever."

"The next day, when I was sober, I still thought it was a good idea — perhaps the first time that has ever happened after a night of drinking," says Lauer, who now splits time between Arizona and her native Idaho. "I fired up blogger.com and thus began baconunwrapped.com."

Four years later, riding the crest of the social-networking wave, her blog about the doings of "Bacon Nation" is going strong, and her first book, Bacon: A Love Story — A Salty Survey of Everybody's Favorite Meat, garnered a largely favorable response when it was released in May '09.

Though she took up bacon idolatry as a joke, Lauer's serious as a heart attack about her mission: detailing America's fascination with the crispy breakfast staple. Both the blog and the book are chock-full of recipes, gossip, history, and high-on-the-hog arcana, and the site is brimming with tweets and posts along the lines of "Bacon Wrapped Tater Tots," "Diet Coke with Bacon," "Bacon Candy Bar," and "Baconvision: Jim Gaffigan on Bacon."

As hard as it is to believe, waxing rhapsodic about bacon doesn't pay the bills, so Lauer focuses on cured pork strips when she gets off her day job at Tribe Effect, a socially conscious public-affairs consulting firm that she co-founded.

But for her long, black mane and the constant chirping, buzzing, and tweeting of her social-networking accoutrements, you could mistake good-time girl Raven Valdes for a film noir minx. With her exotic dress and carriage, she seems out of another time. The irony, of course, is that she's the very definition of her linked-in age.

The 50-year-old divorced mother of a 10-year-old son has been throwing professionally engineered parties in the Valley since 2004. Thanks to their creative themes and Valdes' innate knack(s) for marketing and detail work — not to mention her 10,000-plus-member database — Raven's dialed-in events draw nightlife crowds that are half the native Texan's age, though her target demo tends more toward business-casual folks in their 30s and 40s. And Raven herself is a core attraction; she personally hosts each gathering, and you'll find her at the center of things, holding court in the eye of the storm.

Her staples are business mixers, happy hours, and charitable events, but several times a year, Raven lets down her jet-black hair and unleashes something massive, like her annual Red Light District Costume Ball at the Wrigley Mansion. Last May's edition featured music by Nineball and DJ Old School, a costume contest, celebrity MCs Amber M. and Amber B. of the Bad Girls Club, and pole-dancing lessons courtesy of the PussyCats Pole Dance Company.

Sound like fun? In classic Valdes style, it was hellacious merriment disguised as a fundraiser for domestic-violence shelters.

That's so Raven.

What? You haven't heard about meetup.com? Let us introduce you. Meet Up is all over the country, including Phoenix — a free Web site where people with all kinds of interests can hook up. We don't mean that kind of hook-up, though we suppose a few love connections have been made this way. The rules are a bit complicated — you'd do best by checking the site, www.meetup.com. But the most important thing you need to know is that Meet Up is about finding people with similar interests — like crafts, or sushi. Or wine.

The Arizona WineBats, run by Aaron Leeming, is a group of 642 (and counting) wine lovers from across the Valley. Leeming and some assistant organizers scour the local wine scene, finding deals on tastings and wine-related social events with the goal of arranging "blind" taste contests. Guess the variety of wine, win a prize. You'll have to pay to drink, but the prices are nominal, the company's good and the wine's sure to be even better.

By now you've heard of Meet Up. And you've probably heard of Twitter, another social-networking site that allows you to . . . Well, so far, all we can see is that it allows you to waste time at work when you've exhausted your options on Facebook. But have you ever heard of a tweet-up? Believe it or not, we had trouble choosing the best in town — there are several regular events, a hybrid knock-off of a meet-up for Twitter users curious to see the people they're tweeting with.

Created by Twitter user and local social media expert @Evo_Terra, a.k.a. Travis Unwin, "East Valley Friday Nights" is designed to give anyone looking for a good time a place to meet new people — away from the keyboard. EVFNs have gone down at such places at Roka Akor in Scottsdale and (at the end of every month) Whole Foods in Chandler, where the bar staff triples to account for the 40- to 60-person crowd. Often, venues hosting EVFN will offer incentives to attend such as extended happy hours. Search for "#evfn" to join in the fun. If you're not on Twitter, visit www.phoenixfridaynight.com for details.

When we got a press release last summer stating that a self-proclaimed "superfan" of P.F. Chang's China Bistro was about to go on a seven-state road trip in order to eat at as many different (and yet exactly the same) restaurants as possible — all for the sheer joy that Mongolian Beef brings him — we were a little skeptical. To say the least. The kicker was that this fan was going to document every noodly, rice-filled, or fried meal of his trip on Twitter. C'mon. Would you have bought that? But the biggest surprise came when we met said superfan, Adam Aponte, at the send-off party Chang's threw for him (and as many members of the press as they could muster). He was completely serious. He really loves P.F. Chang's. As it turned out, what had really taken place was not an event of extreme marketing genius, but an event of extreme marketing luck — taken to shameless, tweet-filled measures, of course. But we can't blame you, P.F. Chang's marketing team, for taking advantage of a crazy fan and a new social-networking tool for publicity purposes. For, indeed, Mr. Aponte had written you an e-mail explaining his love and dedication to your mu shu chicken and lettuce wraps (which just happened to mention his upcoming road trip). And we have to admit you were really quite generous (in return for the continual tweets): At least you comped his meals!

Though he's since sissied out, changing his handle from "JoeArpaio" to "FauxSheriffJoe" and adding a clear disclaimer explaining that he's "satirizing" our sheriff (who twitters under RealSheriffJoe —or at least, someone on his staff does), for a while JoeArpaio seemed to have some people fooled. Then a local TV station killed the joke, sorting out the whole matter in a light-hearted piece. Still, tweets like, "The common taco? Just a cheap knockoff of a hot dog. Don't be fooled into thinking it tastes better because it's 'different,'" are at least better than the trite slogans posted by the real deal, whose most interesting post so far was a parting shot at beloved Mesa Police Chief George Gascón, who left to take over San Francisco's department: "Bye [sic] the way, i woudl [sic] like to wish the new San Francisco chief of police luck. I think this is a good move for both cities . . ."

Everyone seems to complain about Phoenix's lack of natives and abundance of out-of-state transplants. And though we love this city, that mix can lead to a shallow sense of history. What a shame. Prideful nostalgia is a crucial ingredient for a sense of place. But in our modern world, the Internet can give us anything we lack, and the tweeter @azhistory knows this. Add it to your Twitter list and you'll be treated to a healthy peppering of (what else?) AZ history. Through YouTube slideshows of old photographs, links to articles, and announcements of new books, you'll be an Arizona native in no time. Or, at least, you'll probably know more history than anyone really born here.

It wasn't as ill-advised as blabbing about her sex life — or noting something euphemistically suggestive like "Christa is higher than a kite." But Phoenix Mayor Phil Gordon's soon-to-be-ex-wife, Christa Severns, certainly touched off a firestorm when she posted this on Facebook last spring: "Christa Severns is thinking of changing careers and taking up lobbying the city of Phoenix. Hell, everybody else does. I can write a fabulous RFP."

The update was immediately assumed to be a dig at her ex's sister, Gail Gordon, who works as a lobbyist and whose team had been hired by the winning bidder for the airport Sky Train project. The Arizona Republic reported on the comment, reportedly without even contacting anyone it was quoting — and that angered at least one state public information officer to the point that he de-friended his reporter "friends." (Yes, the fallout did remind us of junior high schoolers getting their notes intercepted in the hallway.)

For her part, Severns, communications director for SCF Arizona, handled it with grace; we've heard she's agreed to be a guest speaker in at least one journalism class this fall. And she taught us all a valuable lesson in Media Ethics 101: Reporters are your friends only until they can use you for some really juicy copy. Sorry!

In the current hyper-digital age of instantaneous tweets and Facebook status updates blasting out the latest news and gossip 24/7, it seems downright Luddite to use something as lo-fi as a bulletin board to get the lowdown on downtown Phoenix culture. Such is the case with the bulletin board on Fifth Street in front of the Tumbleweed Center's Drop-In Gallery, as we regularly check out its colorful cornucopia of Xeroxed fliers, silk-screened posters, handbills, and other DIY ephemera for the latest events and announcements. Erected last fall by the community-minded cats at the gallery (which features works by homeless artists), the cylindrical-shaped board has clued us in on upcoming indie and punk gigs, future gallery exhibitions, local bicycle co-ops, and a nearby organic garden. (There's often also info on chemtrails, UFOs, and other tinfoil-hat topics.) A few hand-written missives are also occasionally pinned up, including one hastily written note asking God, "Why hast thow [sic] forsaken me?" Dunno, but thanks for asking.

Imagine this: You need answers. But you're not sitting in front of a computer or within reach of an iPhone. Never fear, telephone reference is here. Forget Google, and Wikipedia — at the Phoenix Public Library telephone reference desk, real people are ready to answer your calls and give you useful information. Picture the Katharine Hepburn movie Desk Set, in which Ms. Hepburn plays Bunny Watson, the head of the well-run research department at the Federal Broadcasting Company. Bunny's world is full of reference books and chatty banter, and the filmic predecessor to PPL's Telephone Reference department. Need to know the population of Vatican City, or the year Wade Boggs was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame? Telephone reference is only a call away. Oh, sure, the librarian on the other end of the phone might do a Google search to answer your question, but isn't it nice to know you can still pick up a phone and speak to a human being? One note: The staff cannot give medical advice.

Art crimes move from the street and into a legal art space during this yearly exhibit. Curated by graffiti and gallery artist Mad­One, the show showcases adhesive art as well as one-of-a-kind screen prints by urban artists from around the country. The show, which usually hangs in the winter or spring, has exhibited at various downtown spaces, including HoodRide Bodega and Space 55 Theatre, so check out the Spraygraphic Web site for future show details.

As high-rise condos and huge developments, like the proposed CityScape, start crowding downtown Phoenix, the arts community is bracing to be overrun with chain stores. That's why we're glad to see places like the Alta Space Gallery crop up in a new condo building. Rather than crowding the bottom floor with a Pottery Barn or an American Apparel, Alta Group built an art gallery adjacent to their leasing office. The space is open and airy, with stamped concrete floors, exposed ductwork, and two walls of floor-to-ceiling windows. It's too early to tell exactly what niche the gallery's artists will fit in, but the opening show of sculptor Pete Deise's miniature "Tangle" sculptures on concrete pedestals, combined with contemporary encaustics and wall reliefs from the eye lounge artists, gives us hope that the gallery means to showcase local artists and not sell out to national well-knowns.

Valley residents are tired of hearing how two of their beloved 'burbs (Mesa and Chandler) rated in Forbes magazine's Top 10 Most Boring Cities. So we were thrilled to see Ron Floyd, a well-known art professor and president of the East Valley Art Guild, unveil a new multi-purpose art space in a historic downtown Mesa storefront in mid-September. The SunDust Art Gallery is a new permanent home for the Art Guild, which has over 250 members, from high school students to an octogenarian grandmother. The light, airy space also features two art galleries and art storage space, and Floyd plans to host monthly music events, poetry slams, and art classes. If SunDust is any indication, Forbes can take its list and shove it next year.

Just as we were wrapping up our Best of Phoenix issue last year, Perihelion Arts made its move. Literally. The gallery moved from the corner of 15th Avenue and Grand to the north side of Roosevelt, along the same strip as Tammie Coe in the Artisan Village complex. Since then, 2009 has seen Roosevelt explode to full capacity on both sides of the road. Gone are the days that walking the north side meant a lack of people-wading. Now with Perihelion, we've noticed a hemorrhage of art walkers flooding the gallery on a monthly basis to see wonderful national and local artists — some of our favorites include Daniel Martin Diaz, Mike Maas, Suzanne Falk, and Rachel Bess. As much as we love Grand Ave, there's no denying that Roosevelt, with Perihelion's sister gallery Pravus (winner of Best Move last year), eye lounge, Five15, and Modified is where the action happens. And with such wonderful art coming through Perihelion, we're relieved more get to see it. Well done, Perihelion . . . Well done.

We reckon Justin McBee must have a third-degree black belt in the skill of combining art and music to create mighty big blowouts. The wacked-out wingdings he and former cohort Scot McKenzie conjured up at .anti_space over the past five years are the stuff of downtown Phoenix legend, like after-hours underground electronic noise fests at the gallery's old home at the CheMLAB building. The 34-year-old hooked up with a new partner-in-crime in Bradford Still (the scenester DJ behind the former 602uesdays electro bacchanal at the now-defunct GLAM) to put on a bona fide bonanza of art and music at their pad Studio+ for 2009's Art Detour weekend. For three days, the 1920s-era bungalow hosted the "Primeval Ancestry" exhibition showcasing colorfully bizarre pop art paintings by Yuko Yabuki, the power-packed photography of Edward "PHOTOHOE" Castaneda, short films by Sarah Breidenbach, and the always off-kilter cartoons of art provocateur Luster Kaboom. Festivities continued for two straight nights, including a sendoff on Saturday featuring Sean Watson, Djentrification, and Nico-Teen on the turntables, as well as indie rockers Babaluca and Hooves performing in the front yard. The fete should've gone until 4 a.m., but the Phoenix Police Department shut it down long before then. Party poopers.

It's estimated that an average of 11,000 people turn up in downtown Phoenix during any given First Friday. And as far as we can tell, it seems like every last one of these souls is attempting to jam in and around the intersection of Fifth and Roosevelt streets. We're not effing with you, bub. Imagine a cattle call for the next American Idol, and then multiply it by 10. And the reason the crossroads has essentially become the epicenter of the monthly art walk? That's a no-brainer: There's so much cool shizzle happening at once that it's like experiencing art-scene ADD. In addition to the standard block party and street fair organized by the Roosevelt Row co-operative, approximately two dozen primo galleries are 100 feet away in any direction. Street entertainment is always readily available, be it B-Boys breakdancing, bands like Mondegreen and Back Ted N-Ted staging open-air concerts, or the friendly freaks of the Strange Family Circus pulling off daring (and painful) feats. Whew. Seriously.

We fear the day when downtown's quirky galleries start becoming gentrified in the name of "revitalization." Until then, we'll make sure to spend our Third Fridays people-watching at the most bohemian of them all — the Firehouse, a collective with live/work space for nine artists, and a gallery-slash-retail section in the front. The once unassuming white building now calls out to locals with bright graffiti murals and a performance stage in the backyard. Third Friday is "Fire Stage," an evening of poetry, music, and fire dancing hosted by local poet and Torch Theatre grad Ernesto Moncada. Anything goes at this eclectic event. On any given Third Friday, you might find poetry readings, tribal belly dancers covered in henna tats, or the accordion stylings of Nightwolf's Andrew Jemsek. Chat with the Firehouse's resident artists, who are always milling around during the event, or pop inside for a peek at the new "23" retail collective, where you'll find handmade local goods including leather wristbands, recycled jewelry, and photo art by Firehouse regular Kevin Patterson.

If you're a camera nerd, you'll heart this to-the-point gallery located at the west end of ASU's main campus. Headed by Liz Allen, a university photography professor and killer shutterbug, the space showcases original photography and, sometimes, video installations that are heavy on student work as well as work produced by ASU alums. Themes are wide-ranging — for example, during the 2008-09 school year, shows focused on cultural convergences and women's issues. Exhibits typically don't run long (anywhere from two weeks to two months), so be sure to saunter your behind over to Tempe to see the killer artworks. The space closes for the summer break.

What's open in this town 24-7-365 and isn't a convenience store, self-serve car wash, or emergency room?

You got it. The airport.

At our airport, you can do more than just watch planes taking off and landing. Sky Harbor's Airport Museum is not a museum in the typical sense of the word, but a collection of changing exhibits located in various display areas of terminals 2, 3, and 4. Much of the artwork is tourism propaganda, but many prominent Arizona artists and up-and-comers have displayed here, including Ted DeGrazia, Holly Metz, and Mindy Sue Meyers-Whippler.

And, hey, even the propaganda looks good at 3:32 a.m.

Oh, how we envy local artist Kyle Jordre. He stumbled onto his true passion when he decided a large blank wall in his former apartment needed a Jackson Pollock-style treatment. A couple of canvases, brushes, and gallons of home improvement store "oops" paint later, Jordre quit his job teaching sixth-grade social studies to follow in Pollock's footsteps. Now, as he says, "there are no rules." Jordre lives and works out of a small vintage building on Grand Avenue and manages to draw enough income from his colorful splatter paintings to pay the rent. He makes his own "brushes," using bottles and wooden spoons, and uses objects such as hollow core doors, denim jeans, and glass vases as canvas. "I'll paint anything," says Jordre. "I gotta make my living somehow!" Jordre Studios is open only for First and Third Fridays, but fans can contact Jordre to schedule a personal tour with the artist or peep his works (and a pair of his paint-covered shoes!) at the new Sunrise Mountain Library in Peoria.

In the past year, zombies invaded our movie theaters (Quarantine), our bookstores (Pride and Prejudice and Zombies), and our clubs (Zombie Prom). Now, the undead have chewed their way into the local indie crafts scene. When her writing prospects dried up, Erin Glaser started making zombie sock puppets for extra cash. The rainbow-colored critters with glittery red dried "blood" and crazy beady eyes caught on, and now you'll find them on Etsy.com and at local shops like Fetish Falls and Red Hot Robot. Admittedly, the critters are adorable. But even more than we like the artistry, we celebrate Glaser's good business sense in designing a ridiculously easy-to-make craft project that takes full advantage of the zombie craze. She's managed to churn out and sell well over 1,200 of these things. What's so special about a bloody sock puppet? They're cute, cuddly, handmade, and customizable. Oh, and they're available in bulk, which means if you're dying to make an indie film starring 100 drooling, creepy sock puppets, you won't have to make 'em yourself.

Ma$e isn't technically a local boy, but Puff Daddy's former protégé is in town once a week to preach at the church he's starting in central Phoenix. The "Mo Money Mo Problems" rapper converted to Christianity at the height of his popularity and, after laying low for a few years, started a church in Atlanta, which is making its first expansion to Phoenix. The preacher, now going by his given name, Mason Betha, describes the spiritual temperature of the Valley of the Sun as "lukewarm," saying locals are lulled into complacency by their leisurely desert life, and he hopes to change that. A decade after willfully fading from the public consciousness, Ma$e still has the sort of unbridled charisma that makes you feel honored he decided to pursue his life's work in Phoenix, even if he chose it partly because he likes our palm trees.

Fronzo West has a rap sheet so big you could tie it around City Hall, like a giant bow. And he has a car emblazoned with the motto he lives by, "Fuck the police." And if you're guessing that the former is caused by the latter, you ain't too far off. He also writes his special message to gendarmes all over his clothes, too, in case his jalopy doesn't drive home the point.

Better known simply as "the Fonz," West's clothing and car are akin to waving a red flag in front of a fire-breathing bull in one of those old Bugs Bunny cartoons, at least when it comes to the police. And the fact that the Fonz often considers himself to be out "on patrol" with his video camera looking for police malfeasance doesn't endear him any further to law enforcement. What happens when the police see him is fairly predictable: The cops stop the Fonz and begin to ask questions, to which he does not reply. As soon as they lay hands on him, he performs the patented "Fonz flop," whereby he lays down in front of them peacefully, "pulling a Gandhi," as some have called it.

Inevitably, Fonz then gets arrested on a bogus charge and ends up spending time in the hoosegow or performing community service as a result. Not that there's a law against saying, "eff the po-po." In fact, it's constitutionally protected speech. But "the man" don't see it that way, and the Fonz, a Navy vet, has vowed never to give in.

They are just about the last people in the Valley who would want such a honor, but Phoenix's police chief — make that public safety manager — and his wife, Deer Valley Unified School District's associate superintendent, are eminently deserving of the phrase "power couple."

Jack, of course, has become the devil incarnate to many in the anti-immigration set, the personification to pandering politicians, demagogic union leaders and flat-out nutballs for everything wrong with "liberal" law enforcement. Liberal? This unassuming old west Phoenix boy rode motorcycles and walked the streets of his hometown for years before climbing the ladder to the top of his profession. The guy is as hard-nosed as it gets, except he happens to believe in the rule of law, not of the mob.

Quietly, Connie has been an effective big shot in local education for more than 30 years. She was the first woman president of the Arizona Interscholastic Association's board of directors and in 2007 won the Pat Tillman Community Leadership award in the category of Lifetime Achievement. Connie also won a fight with breast cancer a few years ago. These days, she mentors fellow breast cancer survivors and regularly participates in walkathons to raise money to fight the disease.

The Harrises are out there in our community every day, doing what they think is the right thing to make it a safer (in Jack's case) and better-educated (in Connie's case) place to live. That's powerful stuff.

It's not as if things were perfect in 2008. But let's face it: The squabbling we endured at the state Capitol last year was bliss compared to the budget bloodletting that's proved necessary in 2009. We're not accusing of her doing it on purpose, but it's kind of amazing how Janet Napolitano blithely walked away from the governorship, and Arizona, just as the economy literally ground to a halt — and all the spending she encouraged suddenly caught up with us in a big way. Democrats were livid at Napolitano for jumping ship and giving the state over to Republican Jan Brewer, but the move had the kind of selfish shrewdness that's been a hallmark of Napolitano's career. Indeed, in terms of long-term damage, Napolitano's departure forced the Republicans into being the bad guys. They run everything now, but after this year's budget fiasco, their political futures may be bleak. Being the opposition party, surely, has never looked so good.

We loved Richard de Uriarte even when he wrote for the Arizona Republic's editorial page. (That's saying something, considering New Times' longtime animosity for the daily rag.) But we love him even more as the public information officer for the Maricopa County Board of Supervisors. With all the controversy that august body has been embroiled in this year, no one could blame its new PIO for going into full damage-control mode. But De Uriarte has remained true to form: He doesn't try to argue; he merely explains. He doesn't hide documents that can prove politically damaging. And unlike lesser PIOs, this former journo understands that just because a government agency is required to act if it receives a public-records request doesn't mean that it must get a public-records request just to answer a question. The Supes are lucky to have him.

Like just about everywhere else, the staff at the records room in the basement of the Jackson Street parking structure has shrunk in the past year or so. That has meant longer lines and shorter tempers at times. But we would be remiss if we didn't tip our caps to the clerks who quietly labor behind the counter there five days a week. They are attentive, efficient, helpful, and smile easily. The latter isn't necessarily part of the job description, but it sure does make life easier and more pleasant for all concerned. But, hey, county people, they've got more than enough on their hands at the moment. Please, please don't make any more cuts down there!

Ana Garcia, a sophomore at a Phoenix-area high school, surely didn't mean to set off a public firestorm when she sent a quick e-mail to State Senator Linda Gray. Garcia was simply asking the Legislature not to cut funds for education. But Gray — who clearly didn't realize she was dealing with a 15-year-old with learning challenges — dashed off a snooty response upbraiding Garcia for her bad writing skills. "You should be ashamed of displaying such ignorance in writing to a public servant," the Republican legislator wrote. "Perhaps you watch too much TV or don't know how to speak proper English." Or could it be that perhaps not every student is blessed with the ability to score 140 on an IQ test? Suffice it to say the exchange got out and things got crazy. The lefty Web site DailyKos went ballistic; Gray was forced to apologize to Garcia; plans were made for the senator to visit the student at school and take a look at the programs she was attempting to cut. And thanks to Linda Gray, we all learned a bit more about thinking twice before hitting "reply."

If we had something to sell, or a position to defend, or an ass to cover, you can bet we'd call Jason Rose. We always feel dizzy when we hang up the phone with the PR exec, but, hey, at least he takes our calls. That's more than we can say for a lot of the cowards in this town. Political public relations can make for some scuzzy bedfellows, and Rose has cuddled with the worst of them, but we are always fascinated by his success. So is he, clearly — the guy drives a Maserati and recently bought a multimillion-dollar fixer-upper in Paradise Valley. He makes us feel a little dirty at times, but we'll admit it: Jason, if we get in trouble, you're our first phone call.

It's been an awful year for the East Valley Tribune. The once-venerable newspaper laid off half of its staff and trimmed its publication from daily to four days a week — only to eventually shed even more staffers and cut back to three days. With many of the best staffers gone and the Web site an awful red mess, we can safely say the Trib has become entirely irrelevant. And yet this year, the paper scored a coup that demonstrates how one short year ago, it wasn't just going head to head with the Arizona Republic, it was killing it. The Trib's Pulitzer Prize for Local Coverage was well deserved — and it's certainly not the fault of (now departed) ace reporters Paul Giblin and Ryan Gabrielson that the thing seems more like a sad epitaph than a mark of ongoing quality.

NPR has always been the classiest act on our airwaves. And lately, with more and more radio stations cutting their news staff, it's now also, hands down, the most informative. The morning drive-time show doesn't give us just local headlines at the top of the hour; there's also a good chance we'll get a locally produced feature or two. Later in the day, we have great appreciation for Steve Goldstein's long-form interviews with local politicos. Nobody else devotes so much time and seriousness to its local coverage. For that, we salute KJZZ.

Jim Cross sounds believable and accurate, and with good reason: He is. KTAR's lead news reporter has been telling us important stories from around the state day after day, pounding that rigorous 3 to 11 a.m. shift with the same enthusiasm now as when he was hired in 1999. Cross especially excels during crunch time, when events are fluid and outcomes unsure. His coverage of the Rodeo-Chediski fire in 2002 and the Southern California firestorm in 2007 was as good as it gets — graphic, yet never maudlin. His description of the first commercial airplane lifting off at Sky Harbor days after 9/11 was riveting and heartfelt. And we also recall his fair coverage of the stunning 2007 arrests of this paper's two principal owners by Joe Arpaio's goons. Good reporter that he is, he drove over to the paper, waited until someone gave him a decent quote, and then put it on the air, all within minutes. What more can you ask?

It's downright impossible to find competition for Mike Watkiss in this wrecking ball of a media market. Watkiss, a mighty mite with a big voice and a bigger heart, is definitely old school. (For the record, we consider that a compliment.) The guy literally pounds the pavement looking for lowdown stories about murder, mayhem, and the otherwise seamy side of life. And he's charming — if you're not the subject of one of his stories. He still wears his O.J. Simpson press pass around his neck as a badge of honor. Sadly, street reporters like Watkiss are a dying breed, so enjoy him while you can. We love the SOB.

Since taking the host's seat at Channel 8's Horizon show a few years ago, Simons has done wonders to spice up a public-affairs show that, frankly, had become as exciting as watching toast brown or water boil. The guy truly is erudite, able to discuss the nuances of Dylan's Blonde on Blonde in one breath and evolving Arizona water policies, local politics, and Supreme Court appointments in the next. (That said, we're still gonna scream the next time we hear windbag Howie Fischer use the phrase "In terms of . . ." when he chimes in during Simons' roundtable discussion most Friday nights.) Simons is one smooth operator, able to mix it up in his own genteel way with characters as diverse as Sheriff Joe Arpaio, ASU President Michael Crow, cartoonist Steve Benson, and ex-Governor Janet Napolitano. What we really want to know is how Mr. Simons keeps his hair from ever moving — even a little — onscreen.

Shane Matsumoto hates it when people trash the local music scene. "I'm tired of people calling our scene the red-headed stepchild of L.A.," he says. "We're the fifth-largest city in the U.S., and there's lots of good musicians here. People who criticize Phoenix just don't know where to look for it." The 33-year-old co-owner of the Highland Recorders Studio certainly knows where to look, as he's dedicated himself to ferreting out the best our burg has to offer for his TV show, Indie Music Phoenix. Since debuting last November, the weekly 30-minute program has broadcast interviews with dozens of Valley outfits across multiple genres, ranging from shoegaze indie to punk and hip-hop — not to mention concert footage from recent gigs. IMP also one-ups MTV and VH1 by actually showing music videos on a regular basis (shocking, we know). And if the public can't make it home from the bar in time to tune in, Matsumoto will sometimes bring the show to them by hosting occasional live-music nights at venues like Tempe's Yucca Tap Room, featuring many of the same bands seen on the program. He also posts episodes online. From meatspace to cyberspace, Matsumoto has Phoenix music covered.

Okay, first, let's get past the jokes: Yes, ASU's radio station, The Blaze 1330 AM, has an — ahem — limited range. In fact, your signal may start to break up on the south side of campus, which is why most listeners are online. But what the Blaze lacks in speaker-rattling power, it makes up for by being more in tune with local music than any other tower in town. Yes, this traditional (read: dazed students playing OK Computer front to back) college radio station goes crazy for all those blogger buzz bands, but it's been the only spot on the dial (or, more realistically, the only feed in your iTunes) that'll give you a steady diet of bands like Kinch, Miniature Tigers, and Dear and the Headlights. For that, we love them — at least until we go west of Mill.

As groovy as it can be to catch shows at Valley rock clubs like Jugheads and Hollywood Alley, these joints ultimately bow to the awesomeness that was Madison Square Garden back in the day. A scuzzy mecca for punk and hardcore gigs during the early '80s, the defunct east Phoenix gymnasium/nightclub is where both renowned locals (JFA, The Feederz) and nationally known acts (Dead Kennedys, TSOL) unleashed three-chord anarchy inside a wrestling ring surrounded by cyclone fencing. Though it's been 25 years since Mad Gardens closed down and faded into local lore, you can revisit those mayhem-filled days through Bill Cuevas' online archive chronicling our state's Reagan-era punk scene. The former Tucsonan's Web site boasts a virtual treasure trove of vintage ephemera (including fliers, stickers, and photographs) for Arizona bands and dives that have long since gone the way of Joey Ramone — like Bundini's Warehouse in Tempe, or Tucson's legendary Stumble Inn. A few bootleg MP3s of classic shows (such as Black Flag performing at the Calderon Ballroom in 1982) are also available for download. See, punk's not dead; it just lives on over the Internet.

Tim Virgin isn't the most talkative DJ on Phoenix's rock radio scene, but that's kinda what we like about him. Market-wise, he's no virgin, bouncing all around this great land before landing at The Edge, where he spins a lot of '90s "alternative" rock, mixed with a select number of newer bands, during his afternoon slot. He's got a unique (but in no way grating) voice, and he doesn't overdo anything, which is pretty much what we like to hear between songs by Incubus, Nirvana, and Green Day. He also seems to be at least a little excited when he's spinning something relatively new — which may be a directive from the station's corporate overlords but makes us feel warm and fuzzy anyway.

Our morning commute just gets longer and longer, but it ain't because traffic's snarled again on the I-10. Ever since the acerbic-tongued jock Strawberry gave up his afternoon drive time shift in favor of urging 101.5 JAMZ listeners to "wake that ass up" from 6 to 10 a.m. every weekday, we've been extending our route to the office, if only to get in a few more minutes of listening. Between spins of the freshest Lil Wayne, Jeremih, and Flo Rida cuts, we're usually cracking up something fierce at his bits, which put other "morning zoo" deejays to shame. Besides the always-popular "Will It Flush Wednesdays," there's "Bitch Slap Mondays," where fans cast text-message votes throughout the show to determine which male in the studio (either the host or one of his sidekicks, Suge White and G-Mo) gets a hearty pimp-smack by outspoken newsgirl Vanessa. His tongue-in-cheek interviews are also top-shelf, be they with oddball listeners, porn stars, or hip-hop luminaries. (He even got to confab with DMX the day he got released from Sheriff Joe's gulag.) If Earl Simmons is down with Straw, then we gotta be, too.

T.I.'s hit single "Dead and Gone" (featuring Justin "Trousersnake" Timberlake) is an exceptional hip-hop track, one of the best off the Paper Trail disc from last year. But after hearing it five times in the span of two hours, even the pair's prodigious rapping and rhyming talents tend to sound a little weak. Same goes for the Black Eyed Peas' "Boom Boom Pow," Pitbull's "I Know You Want Me," or the Keri Hilson/Lil Wayne track "Turnin' Me On" (more like you're turning us off, Weezy). In fact, the relentless rotation of the same ol', same ol' played ad nauseam by the hip-hop radio powerhouses in this burg has got us tuning instead to 92.7, 99.3, or 101.1 FM on our radio dial to listen to the dope mix of old-school shizzle provided by KNRJ (a.k.a. "The Beat of AZ"). Until last fall, the station broadcasted high-energy EDM, but it's currently all about busting out anthems from 30 years of hip-hop that never get airplay: names like Biggie Smalls, Biz Markie, and even Grandmaster Flash. In one hour alone, we heard "Dre Day," Ice Cube's "Check Yo Self," and the Afrika Bambaataa classic "Planet Rock." It's almost enough to make us want to bust out the parachute pants and start poppin' and lockin' again.

In Phoenix's topsy-turvy and hyper-competitive country radio scene (dominated by the twin-powers of KNIX and KMLE), one moment you're on top, the next you're out the door, and, before you know it, you're working for the other guy. We're not sure KNIX's Ben Campbell and Matt McAllister were good enough to get their former competitor — the Morning Mayor, Dave Pratt — recalled, but it does seem suspicious that their success coincided with his departure and replacement with KNIX's old team of Tim and Willy. Either way, there's no real competition between Ben and Matt, charming pretty boys whom the station wisely cross-markets whenever possible (and who score interviews with some of country music's top stars), and the insufferable Tim and Willy, who overuse the dumbass term "NashVegas" and have somehow ended up interviewing a dude from Def Leppard and mystery author Dean Koontz. We'd prefer to see Ben and Matt's tanned faces and pearly white teeth atop a pair of boots a little more often, but when it comes to picking a drive-time country twosome, Ben and Matt are it.

For those of you who have lived here for a while, remember when Phoenix was totally Podunk? Seriously. Back in the day, we remember seeing pickup trucks dragging their back bumpers down the freeway and hearing Southern-like accents at the neighborhood Circle K. The only thing missing was pure country-and-Western music on the airwaves, the kind you'd hear driving across a dusty stretch of rural Texas. (We're talking Willie Nelson, Dolly Parton, Hank Williams, Jr., and Woody Guthrie — you know, the good stuff.) Then we were made hip to Real Country FM. The Wickenburg-based station — which tends to play honky-tonk favorites, ranging from Patsy Cline's lesser-known hits to George Strait's old-school jams — has a strong enough signal to encompass everywhere we've been in Maricopa County, so you're only a preset away from Phoenix, circa 1975. KSWG also streams online; just check out the station's hastily designed Web site for easy iTunes-linked tuneage.

Legendary outlaw country singer Waylon Jennings, the first country musician to ever have a platinum record, wasn't originally from Arizona. Though a Texan by birth, he's tied to the Copper State because he lived here much of his life and resurrected his career here by playing gigs seven nights a week at J.D. Musil's nightclub in Tempe. He also passed away here, at his home in Chandler, and was buried here, at Mesa Cemetery, the same grassy lawn that holds the remains of paroled rapist Ernesto Miranda of "Miranda rights" fame. Waylon's grave is a peaceful place, where you'll find his intricately designed black headstone adorned by flowers and trinkets left by generations of fans passing by. It's the closest thing a country music fan will find to sacred ground in this town, and it's well worth the trip.

A few years ago, Stephan Shepherd's wife was asked to edit the newsletter for her parenting group. She roped her hubby into writing reviews of kids' music — and that, boys and girls, is how Phoenix wound up with the best children's music blog around. Shep­herd doesn't just review music and report on the industry on his blog, he also brings super music to town — another reason to read Zooglobble and learn who's coming to the Valley and when. Now we have just one more wish, Stephan: Bring Baby Disco to Phoenix! You know what we're talking about.

Google the words "noodle forest" and you'll find hundreds of hits referring to the groovy play area on the third floor of the Children's Museum of Phoenix, which opened last year. The playground is a rainforest of more than 3,000 lime green and creamy orange polyethy­lene foam tubes. The noodles hang from the ceiling and sway gently as kids chase each other through the padded jungle. This tactile and colorful bonanza can crack a smile on even the most crabby toddler . . . or adult. Admission is $9 for kids and adults and you get to see the rest of the museum, too. Under 1? It's free.

Whether it's their beautifully mounted productions at the still-sparkling new Tempe Center for the Arts, or the classes they teach year-round (including weeklong summer programs) at their nearby Tempe facility, Childsplay is a class act. When it comes to instruction, perfection is not the goal — a welcome relief in this all-too-pushy, test-obsessed culture. Kids can take classes with real life actors, then come to a show and see them perform onstage. That's what we call community theater at its finest!

His sabbatical leave during the summer of 2004 led to a crisis in David Barker's life. Like many artists, Barker, a professor of theater in the Herberger College of the Arts best known for his mime performances, turned that crisis into art. Dodging Bullets details the day that Barker's brother-in-law opened fire on him and his sister, the gunman's wife. The bullet intended for Barker missed him, but his sister was hit in the chest. It's a testament to Barker's skill as a playwright and performer that he made this tragic tale — which he's preparing for a remount, we hope very soon — both amusing and enlightening.

Lisa Starry gets it.

The artistic director/choreographer for Phoenix's 10-year-old, 20-member-strong Scorpius collective understands that the terms "modern dance" and "interpretive dance" are buzz-kills in a society with a crippled economy and a stunted attention span. That's why Starry gives hesitant Gen Xers and Yers — the folks with the disposable incomes — what they want. And that's a little pop-culture sugar to help the medicine, er, contemporary dance go down.

One of Starry's core influences is Cirque du Soleil. A Vampire Tale, her annual "Nutcracker of Halloween," predated Twilight mania. In general, Starry says her inspiration comes from the movies rather than other choreographers (and those who've seen A Vampire Tale know it's much closer in spirit to Interview with the Vampire than Bella Swan).

"My dream was always to entertain, and that's what is working for Scorpius," she says. We're glad.

Though there's still some lingering heat, the summer blockbuster season is over, meaning we can avoid overwhelming explosions, manic car chases, and one-note comedies. That's why Harkins Camelview 5 is our haven year-round. Anytime we want to escape the typical celluloid tedium, we can settle into the last theater that the chain's founder, Dwight "Red" Harkins, opened himself. Camelview has quite the menu of foreign and independent films (even with masquerading major studios dipping their toes in the art-film pool), which keeps us coming back — especially now, when more thoughtful fare vies to be remembered by Oscar voters.

When IFC and the Sundance Channel don't quench your thirst for non-traditional cinema, No Festival Required is your mighty-mite hero. The monthly indie and art film showcase started in 2002, taking up the mantle of microcinema that Jeff Cochran left behind. Microcinema refers only to size of the venues, because No Festival Required has always featured works that are bold, daring, and cutting edge in content and technique. In addition to monthly screenings at Space 55, NFR domo Steve Weiss has helped organize and market screenings and film events at Deus Ex Machina, Chandler Cinemas, and the Phoenix Art Museum.

As the saying goes, less is more and Ignite Phoenix, the quarterly series of bite-size lectures, epitomizes the axiom. Modeled after the first Ignite event, held in Seattle in 2006, anyone can submit a presentation on anything — as long as it can be completed within five minutes. The hallmark of Ignite Phoenix is the variety of subjects that have made it to the podium, including the picayune (a rant about the uselessness of stressing out) and the profound (a lecture about algae-based green fuels). The result has set the Valley's Twitter-dwelling tech, biz, creative community aflame.

Musicians seem drawn to using public transit systems as a backdrop for performances. We've seen many a street rat busking in NYC and D.C. subways while strumming their acoustic gee-tars. Maybe it's the captive audience or Americana's deep-rooted bonds shared by trains and tunes. Either way, we figured that once the Valley's light-rail system launched last December, it wouldn't be too long until we heard live music at stations. The folks behind the Train Tracks did us one better and have been booking Phoenix indie acts to play unplugged versions of their songs on light-rail cars since February. Conjured up by a cabal of CenPho left-brain types (including Inside Creative Minds filmmaker Tray Goodman and Modified Arts/Stinkweeds' Kimber Lanning) the weekly online video series records acoustic performances by such local scene favorites as Courtney Marie Andrews, Yourchestra, and Sugar Thieves during rush hour. It's similar to London's Black Cab Sessions (albeit not in a back of a taxi), in which everything's done in one take. Every three months, those who get the best response are invited to compete in a quarterly First Friday battle of the bands at the Phoenix Art Museum. The winner will get stage time at next year's Tempe Musical Festival. Sounds good to us, as long as they don't ask us for spare change.

A year ago, Metro light rail won Best Anticipated Ride and, so far, it's lived up to the hype. The light rail has essentially opened up a city within a city, and Rail Life has become its vital guide. The Web site is dedicated to all things related to the light rail, from service changes to transportation meetings. On the social side, the site offers a staggering listing of local bars and restaurants on the line. Rail Life even manages to keep tabs on all the big events and housing in the light-rail neighborhoods, all while keeping the info navigable.

Central Phoenix life moves so fast that the phrase "CenPho" has started to sound normal to even the old guard who use "the 602" and "PHX" as terms of endearment. CenPho TV's weekly video podcast moves just as quickly, with Dave Brookhouser and Jacqui Johnson leading a whirlwind tour — less than five minutes — of the major civic, music, and cultural events in town. Dave "Bully" Bjorn offers additional support in keeping people informed. The self-produced effort has come a long way since its early days, but the podcast-capping bloopers are a reminder of the inherent fun of a labor of love.

The Internet is either the best invention ever (YouTube, Etsy, www.catsinsinks.com) or the worst (MySpace, Yoga Kitty, that page with Chewbacca singing "Silent Night"). A Phoenix-based Web site that's definitely hovering around awesome status is binary-chaos.net, an all-local affiliation of creative types and their video art. The Pete Petrisko-run URL features videos starring local artists such as Dena Johnson, Babs McDonald, and Andrew Jemsek. Programs are wide-ranging, like the snarky Doc Sterno Wise Advice and the once-popular onstage-turned-video-podcast Uncle Sku's Clubhouse. Don't dig watching videos online? No worries, because the short flicks are sometimes shown on the big screen at places like the Firehouse and Hidden House.

Actually, by the time this Best Of makes it to print, the title of the show might be Best Web­cast That's Finally a Radio Show. Longtime liberal talk-show host Jeff Farias, who used to park himself behind the mike at KPHX 1480 AM, the former home of the ultra-lefty NovaM Radio network, parted ways with his bosses in 2008, months before NovaM self-destructed. (Progressive talk has returned to 1480, but NovaM remains moribund.) Indeed, by the time NovaM had become a footnote in AM history, Farias had already moved his fiercely loyal fan base to the Internet, where he produced thejefffariasshow.com, a live Webcast for three hours daily. For this, viewers have tuned in and called in, despite Farias' absence anywhere on the radio dial. More recently, Farias has taken on his unapologetic liberalism back to the AM format, and he can be heard on Christian station KXXT 1010 AM from 11:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. Yes, you heard right: It's a Christian station. Told you Jesus was a Democrat. Anyway, the rollicking, anything-goes Webcast continues live daily from 3 to 6 p.m., emanating from the studio in Farias' garage. But something tells us Farias will soon be replicating his Webcast online for another entity. Just can't keep a good liberal down, it seems.

In many ways, The Cover Up are local label Modern Art Records' forgotten band: the hardcore counterpart to indie faves like Miniature Tigers and Back Ted N-Ted. But they do have one distinction none of their peers will likely ever equal, having been featured in a commercial commissioned by Commonwealth Bank of Australia. Their bit was part of a series of commercials that featured a clueless American advertising agency pitching ideas to levelheaded but open-minded Australian bankers, who politely dismiss their foolhardy ideas. In their installment, The Cover Up are playing their brand of melodic hardcore in the middle of a typical bank branch while Aussie businessfolk mill about, trying to ignore them. "Your new debit MasterCard offer rocks, so we thought your bank should rock," one of the ad execs says to a confused Australian. "Hold up guys . . . Do they know anything a little more mellow?" the Aussie asks. "Of course. Play the love song," the ad exec says. The band, predictably, picks up right where they left off, and hilarity ensues.

For the second year in a row, hoozdo knocks the socks off any Phoenician able to get an issue in his or her lucky little paws. Equal parts celebration of the urban boom that we're on the cusp of and lamentation of the life of Phoenix natives being lost in supermarkets and strip malls, hoozdo brings them together in a gleefully uneasy union that seems perfect for our fair city. The photographs and glossy paper are a welcome step up from the Xerox jobs of other 'zines (love them as we do), while the content is eclectic and well written. Lately, hoozdo has dabbled beyond print, with a blog, Twitter account, and bundled CDs of local music, but the heart of the 'zine is as a wonderfully gawky paper version that pops up periodically at our favorite haunts around Phoenix.

For many Valley suburbanites, there's truly no greater torture than the daily commute. Besides all the anger-inducing congestion, there always seem to be annoying X-factors that make the commute even worse: idiotic drivers and even more idiotic cops, not to mention all the obnoxious drive-time DJs. So how does one cope? Peoria graphic artist Daniel M. Davis and his wife, Dawna (who both endure a three-hour drive every workday), use their daily Web comic Monster Commute to vent automotive aggravations. Described as a "traffic novel," it involves the characters of robot Chadworth Machine and the demon-like Beastio traveling in an endless rush hour through the netherworld. Daniel creates the comic on his iMac with Adobe Illustrator and utilizes a macabre pop-art style (which resemble the works of Mike Maas) mixed with steampunk and retro-futurism. There's a small-but-growing fan base, which seems to get bigger by the day. Misery loves company, we guess.

If only Michael Crow had eaten some namesake fowl and backed down from his mighty institution's boneheaded decision not to give President Barack Obama an honorary sheepskin. It would have been so simple. And it would have spared ASU from being the butt of endless jokes and the object of scorn and derision on The Daily Show, which famously called ASU "the Harvard of date rape."

There's wicked karma involved here. Crow has earned a rep as dictatorial and moralistic, forcing upon the party school a wishful paradigm of abstemiousness and academics, while going to war against the fraternities and their Animal House ways. Dean Wormer-like, he put his foot down.

Now everything Crow's strived for has been undone, and ASU will be remembered as the place that refused to grant the nation's first black president a worthless piece of paper because it didn't deem him worthy. At least the country got to see what we put up with. And we all got a good laugh over it.

There's just not enough whimsy here in Phoenix, particularly in the summer, so we took note (and a picture) when — on one of the hottest days of the year — we saw a snowman.

It was 7:30 a.m., and there he stood, just outside the door of our favorite coffee shop. Melting.

He was about as tall as a kindergartner, equipped with the requisite coal eyes, carrot nose, twig arms. No one was around to claim him, and we couldn't guess where someone got that much ice, let alone the will to attempt such a pointless task.

But we thought about that snowman all day, and smiled. That night, on our way home, we swung by to see what was left of the little guy. Just the coal and carrots — and a wet spot — but we put our hands on the ground where the snowman had been, and miraculously, all those hours later, the concrete was still cold.

We still don't know who made him, but we hope that whoever built the snowman knows that he or she made our 115-degree day.

Best of Phoenix 2009 In Photos

to the city hotline to get it covered up as quickly as the next guy. But all graffiti isn't vandalism. Sometimes, it's art. And, oddly enough, the best example of graffiti art in town isn't stretched out in public. In an alley behind La Piñata, the Mexican restaurant on 19th Avenue just north of Osborn Road, is our Louvre of mural-based graffiti. Unlike some spots where graffiti is thrown up without permission, here the work is encouraged by the local businesses, and the paint donated by Montana Spanish Paints. Nearly 100 feet of urban landscape, including aliens, weirdos, flaming hubcaps, burning motorcycles, purple people, and an impressively large color block pattern almost 20 feet high, lines the back of the little strip mall. Instead of bland, boring, and illegal, these vivid murals, although hidden, are reminders that all graffiti isn't vandalism. A little permission, a little paint, and a little skill make all the difference.

Best of Phoenix 2009 In Photos

It became difficult to understand how robots could be portrayed in science fiction as threats after seeing Atticus Fraley's installation. The "Bell'e Art" series, presented by Scottsdale Public Art, rotates art in the Scottsdale Civic Center Bell Tower. We haven't loved every pro­ject (frankly, the bubble fountain was disappointing and smelled bad), but we were delighted in early 2009 when an onslaught of flying robots filled the space. Fraley used vintage recycled objects — like U-shaped magnets for hands, industrial light bulbs for heads, thermoses for legs and picnic jugs for bellies. These little guys were soaring, parachuting, and coptering in for an adorable onslaught. At night, with their lightbulb heads aglow, all of Scotts­dale welcomed this invasion. We were sorry to see the robots go, but last time we checked, Orange Table — the groovy coffee house adjacent to the art space — was memorializing them on T-shirts.

Best of Phoenix 2009 In Photos

Like so many things in Phoenix, Tovrea Castle isn't what it appears to be at all. This peculiar, turreted house, built in 1928 in what was then literally the middle of nowhere at 50th Street and Van Buren, looks more like an attraction at a miniature golf course than a building inspired by the homes of Italian noblemen. Seen from eastbound Loop 202, Tovrea (pronounced Toe-vree) is a flag-topped, dome-roofed faux castle in the middle of the Southwest desert, a kitschy reminder that Phoenix was once even weirder than it is today, and a testimony to the fact that the city's inability to finish anything isn't a new trend.

The castle and its surrounding Carraro Cactus Garden were built by Italian immigrant Alessio Carraro, a San Franciscan who'd hatched a plan to create his own resort town on 277 acres of creosoted desert just east of the Phoenix city limits. He intended to build a resort castle surrounded by dense acres of vegetation, and between 1928 and 1930, he and a crew of two dozen workers overhauled the barren landscape into a colossal cactus garden, designed by a Russian gardener named Moktachev and wrapped around a magnificent wedding cake of a house meant to be the crowning jewel of a privately owned housing development that never came to be.

Instead, we're left with a pretend castle, five separate gardens, various outbuildings, and some goofball water features that — because the City of Phoenix purchased the castle and the 36 acres of land surrounding it in 1993 — local Tovrea fans and tourists alike can enjoy during the castle's twice-monthly garden tours. Every penny of the $15 admission price goes toward upkeep of the recently restored castle and grounds, which you can see for yourself by reserving a spot on its next tour on the castle's Web site.

Best of Phoenix 2009 In Photos

No pun intended, but it's a wonder that Her Secret Is Patience, a massive sculptural installation by Boston artist Janet Echelman that now anchors downtown's new Civic Space Park, ever got built to begin with. Inspired by Arizona's monolithic monsoon clouds and the fleeting flowers of the state's iconic saguaro cactus, Echelman's ethereal creation of free-floating netting and steel, which changes with the wind and is kaleidoscopically uplighted at night, almost never got built — thanks to a city government faction that wanted to dump the project mid-stream. But public support and the commitment of the Phoenix City Council ultimately won out. The sculpture, which had been dissed as resembling everything from a jellyfish and collapsed sphincter to a thought balloon and cowpie, is now the eye-popping focal point of the city's newly opened downtown park across the street from ASU's Walter Cronkite School of Journalism. More impressive against a nighttime sky than its daytime backdrop, Her Secret Is Patience hypnotically draws people in like moths being sucked into a multi-colored, ever-changing flame.

The name of Echelman's massive sculpture is unforgivingly appropriate. It comes from a quote penned by Ralph Waldo Emerson, 19th-century American Trancendentalist poet, philosopher, and essayist: "Adopt the pace of nature; her secret is patience." Emerson is the same guy who once wrote, "To map out a course of action and follow it to an end requires courage." And courage is what it took to get Echelman's artwork up and butting against the sky.

Best of Phoenix 2009 In Photos

Phoenix multi-media artist Angela Ellsworth is always coming up with brand-new ways of making salient points about art, life, culture, societal mores, and just plain stuff. She scored again, big-time, with an eminently memorable live piece performed January 8 in conjunction with her exhibition, "Angela Ellsworth: Underpinnings," at Lisa Sette Gallery.

As a tribute to pioneering female performance artists of the 1960s, '70s, and '80s, Ellsworth dressed rosy-cheeked young ladies, outfitted like "sister wives" of the infamously polygamous Fundamentalist Church of Latter-day Saints, in missionary-style, Mother Hubbard muumuus, frontal hair poufs, long, fake braids, and running shoes. In slow motion, they roamed the gallery that evening, silently miming past performance art while armed with objects — a machine gun, a rag stuffed in a mouth, a flashlight — used in the older, still-controversial works. The flashlight was used to illuminate the crotch of another, reminiscent of Annie Sprinkles' 1989 Public Cervix Announcement, during which the hooker/stripper/porn star turned feminist performance artist invited people to celebrate the female body by using a flashlight and speculum to see her cervix.

God only knows what people passing the gallery during this scenario thought when they got a gander at the goings-on, but it was fun to speculate. We don't think Scottsdale will ever be the same.

Best of Phoenix 2009 In Photos

Billed as "a woolly celebration of the intersection of higher geometry and feminine handicraft," April's "Hyperbolic Crochet Coral Reef Project" — the brainchild of Margaret and Christine Wertheim of the Institute for Figuring (IFF) — turned out to be so much more than that. The Wertheim twins are not only artists, but scientists and writers as well — who better to meld art in a traditionally feminine form with hardcore mathematics, geometry, biology, and ecology?

Their crazily colorful, 2,500-foot coral reef, constructed entirely of crocheted materials (including those obnoxious plastic bags that are such a pain to recycle) oozed over, under, and through the Scottsdale Library's gallery, evoking the real, living, breathing thing. Of course, the danger posed to the world's coral reefs by pollution, including that produced by those damn virtually indestructible plastic bags, is underscored by the project, which was realized with the help of over 200 local volunteers. "Hyperbolic Crochet Coral Reef Project" turned out to be the consummate, water-evoking oasis when our legendary heat arrived this summer.

Best of Phoenix 2009 In Photos

We always applaud efforts to raise money for arts-related projects in the Valley. And we were especially impressed with a street party-cum-art exhibit sponsored by Martha + Mary, a group formed by artist/real estate developer Sloane McFarland that's dedicated to resurrecting Phoenix buildings from the dead and turning them into ultra-hip urban hangouts, like Lux Coffeebar on Central Avenue.

Martha + Mary's April family-friendly bash (you could tell the clientele it attracted by the Vespas parked en masse out front) was an open-air affair in a blacktopped area next to Lux and featured live music, comfort food and drink, and kid-centric games and activities. All proceeds from the street fair went to underwrite ASU Art Museum's upcoming "Open for Business" exhibition, a clever fundraising idea at a time when the budgets of museums and other cultural institutions have been slashed more savagely than a Freddy Krueger victim.

But the real draw of the afternoon was a four-hour exhibition by some of the Valley's most talented artists, including Jon Haddock, Gregory Sale, Carrie Marill, Sue Chenoweth, Matthew Moore, and Post-Commodity's Steve Yazzie and Kade Twist. Video, multi-media installations, wall painting, three-dimensional sculptures, drawings — all this and only four hours to enjoy the formidable show. Here's hoping that the street fair/exhibit becomes an annual spring event. And maybe if we beg, plead, nag and whine, next year's exhibition will remain open for viewing a lot longer.

Best of Phoenix 2009 In Photos

Sometimes we wonder whether legendary Italian architect Paolo Soleri isn't feeling a little smug these days. All signs point to no: The 90-year-old trailblazer was nothing but gracious during his birthday celebration in Scottsdale in June. He took time to pose for photos with families and fans, sipping water, nibbling on a scone, listening intently, and sitting through the heat for much longer than would be considered healthy for most men nearing 100. (Though, admittedly, most men nearing 100 aren't cementing their legacy in that decade).

But how could he not be? This is a man who was prophetic about one of the most urgent issues on the radar today: sustainable living. (He thought of it about a generation earlier than the rest of us.) More than 50 years ago, he founded the Cosanti Foundation, and 10 years after that, he began building one of the most ambitious architectural projects in the country. Arcosanti is an entire city in the desert that, when finished (if ever), was designed to house 5,000 people and take up only 25 of 4,060 acres of land. His idea was to create an alternative to urban sprawl, a city that works more like a complimentary organism than a never-ending growth spurt. Arcosanti looks something like a space-age community built entirely out of the dirt, sand, and stone. It is both modern and retro, beautiful and rugged.

The experimental community is basically in the middle of nowhere, located about 50 miles north of Phoenix along Interstate 17. It is (at least the beginnings of) an entirely new kind of city — one that conserves energy, land, and resources. In other words, it is (cough, cough) sustainable. In fact, Soleri's 50-year-old philosophy is based on a theory of sustainability: the combination of architecture and ecology (i.e. arcology; check it out on his Web site). Feeling a little silly yet? Maybe if we'd listened to him 50 years ago, we wouldn't be facing ozone high-pollution advisory days now.

Either way, the city of Scottsdale and Scottsdale Public Arts seem to have gotten the message — and they're bringing it to us in the form of the Soleri Bridge and Plaza, which will cross the canal at Scottsdale Road just west of Camelback. The project, designed by Soleri and partly built by his groupies at the Cosanti bell foundry in Paradise Valley, will feature two 64-foot pylons that will cast shadows to mark the course of the sun and a suspension bridge, as well as areas for walking and biking (and horseback riding, apparently). Okay, so ours is no revolutionary, self-sustaining city in the desert, but it will hopefully be a suitable tribute to our favorite architectural, environmental, ecological, artistic visionary. We salute you, Signore Soleri.

Best of Phoenix 2009 In Photos

When we heard there's a park in Tempe named for the current mayor's mother, we rolled our eyes. Nice gimme, Hugh! Then a friend corrected us. Turns out Evelyn Hallman is more than deserving of the honor.

Hallman, a seamstress, wife, mother of three, and, at one point, diesel mechanic, still managed to find the time to get involved in local politics. A Goldwater Girl who became a virtual pillar of her community, Hallman knew every corner of her north Tempe neighborhood — and she really knew Canal Park.

Back in the day, when Canal and Papago became pick-up spots, Hallman lobbied the city to clean up the parks and close down the bathrooms used for dalliances. She persuaded county officials to sponsor annual neighborhood park cleanups, which continue to this day.

Evelyn fought for open spaces where neighbors could gather together to enjoy fishing in the pond, a bike ride or a stroll. She worked tirelessly to apply for grant money for her neighborhood and attended countless city meetings to support good projects in the neighborhood and oppose bad ones. She celebrated when a good project won out and took it in graceful stride when a bad one did.

She fought developers who wanted to build on A Mountain, which today is still covered with vegetation and a hiking trail. She also made sure we could enjoy walking around Tempe Town Lake without bumping into commercial properties right at the lake's edge.

Evelyn created partnerships, made enemies and built a community of neighbors. Tall like her son and tan, she could be found every morning in Canal Park, jogging along the canal, well into her '80s. She died in 2005 and in 2006, Canal Park was re-dedicated as Evelyn Hallman Park. We can't think of a better tribute or reminder of the value of community activism. As Evelyn Hallman's life proves, you don't have to be the mayor of a town to get things done in it.

Best of Phoenix 2009 In Photos

LBJ's people smeared him as crazy. They said he was too far right, that (per that awful "Daisy" ad) he'd usher in World War III, that the stakes were simply "too high" to trust him with the country. "In your guts, you know he's nuts," they chanted. And then Barry Goldwater lost the presidency — the first in a long line of Arizonans to fall just a bit short of the ultimate political goal.

But something strange has happened to Goldwater in the 40-plus years since he ran for president. You only had to watch his granddaughter CC's 2006 documentary, Mr. Conservative, to realize how wrong the media elite had been about Goldwater. He wasn't crazy. He was, instead, a creature of the West: an independent, a straight shooter, a guy who understood that there's nothing on the Eastern seaboard that rivals the beauty of a sunset over Paradise Valley. And he was smart. Read The Conscience of a Conservative today and — though you may not agree with a word of it — we guarantee you'll be struck by its lucidity and logic.

You don't have to be a conservative to appreciate his legacy. Goldwater tolerated no corruption; he didn't mince words. He sat down with a tarnished Nixon and persuaded him to resign. He called out his own party when it got too hung up on gays and abortion. Then it was the right's turn to smear him — they said he'd left the movement he helped to create. But really, the movement left him.

Forget the Straight Talk Express. This was a man who told it like it was. And screw Sarah Palin . . . Goldwater was the true maverick.

Of all the Arizonans who've played the political game, Barry Goldwater is the one we're most proud of today. Even if you didn't agree with Goldwater on anything, it's hard not to respect him for just about everything.

Best of Phoenix 2009 In Photos

A writer, a singer, an organizer, a teacher, a storyteller, a dancer, and an activist. Fatimah Halim does it all, and she does it for the girls of the Valley.

The founder of GHETTO GIRLS and the president and CEO of Blueprint for Womanhood, this goddess preaches the dignity of the Sisterhood (with a capital "S") and the sanctity of womanhood to African-American and Latina girls from around the Valley who might not have realized they were worth more than their midriffs without her.

GHETTO GIRLS does not mean what you think it does, though. Halim has made sure of that. She has re-envisioned the meaning in an attempt to reverse the negative connotation. Here it stands for: Goddesses Have Every Thing to Offer — Grace, Integrity, Renewal, Love, Sisterhood. Talk about a transformation.

Through GHETTO GIRLS, Halim runs the Rites of Passage Program to help adolescent young women transition into womanhood, along with the Sistah Circle workshops that build a bond of sisterhood among womankind. She is also one of four Valley artists involved in Journey Home, an arts project that works to empower incarcerated women in the Estrella jail.

Halim has been a model of transformation from the start. A girl from the real ghetto of Harlem, Halim was a member, alongside Jimi Hendrix, of the Ghettofighters before moving to Phoenix and beginning a career as a special events coordinator with the city of Phoenix.

She blends genres and destroys definitions. Her work is a mix of the arts, the literary world, the government, the spiritual realm, and the non-profit spectrum. She has toured as a storyteller with Rosa Parks. She has written one book and four plays, filled stadiums with thousands of people and recruited notables such as Stevie Wonder, Martin Sheen, and Coretta Scott King — all to raise awareness and promote understanding among people of all colors and genders.

She even starred in her own one-woman show, She's So G.H.E.T.T.O. — Chronicles of a Ghetto Girl Gone Goddess.

Amen, sister! We're right behind you.

Best of Phoenix 2009 In Photos

You can talk about the Grand Canyon State all you want, but if you come looking, you'll find us at the lobby bar at the Arizona Biltmore, basking in a different kind of state pride. Designed by disciples of Frank Lloyd Wright (or the man himself, depending on whose account you believe), the majestic stone buildings — with their lovely rooms, fine dining, and impossibly green grounds — are elegant. But our favorite part is the ghosts rattling around. Phoenix just doesn't have enough famous history, but some of our choicest few morsels are grounded at the Biltmore. Irving Berlin just may have penned "White Christmas" by the pool. The Reagans honeymooned here (you can stay in their room — a bit of a casita — to this day). All the best political victories (John McCain, GOP nomination for the presidency, 2008) and defeats (John McCain, general election for the presidency, 2008) are celebrated at the Biltmore. And if dim memory serves, we've made our own history at the lobby bar — a time or two.

Best of Phoenix 2009 In Photos

The story of Scottsdale resident Gerda Weissmann Klein proves that America is, indeed, the land of second acts — F. Scott Fitzgerald be damned. Born in Poland in 1924, Klein survived labor camps, concentration camps, and death marches to marry one of the American G.I.'s who liberated her — Kurt Klein, a German-born Jew whose own parents had been murdered at Auschwitz.

The tragedy of her first act is matched by the triumph of her second: Her multiple awards include an Oscar, for the documentary One Survivor Remembers (based on her memoir All But My Life) and a lifetime achievement award from the American Immigration Law Foundation. In 1998, the Kleins established The Gerda and Kurt Klein Foundation, to provide educational tools that promote tolerance and community service, in partnership with organizations like the Southern Poverty Law Center and the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum.

In 1999, Gerda traveled to Colorado to help the students at Columbine High School heal after the murder of their classmates. And this March, Klein celebrated the completion of the pilot program of Citizenship Counts, a non-profit she founded to educate middle school students about citizenship and civic responsibility. The program involved 100 seventh- and eighth-graders from Phoenix and Scottsdale who helped plan a naturalization ceremony for 50 new U.S. citizens from around the world; Klein spoke at the ceremony, as did retired Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O'Connor. Not bad for someone who had everything, short of her life, taken away and had to start over from scratch in a new language and a new land. What a country. What a woman!

Best of Phoenix 2009 In Photos

Phoenix would be a very different place if architect Will Bruder had followed his original plans and become a sculptor. Bruder, whose designs include the annex of the Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art and downtown's Burton Barr Central Library, received a degree in sculpture from the University of Wisconsin, and studied art and engineering before apprenticing with Paolo Soleri in the late '60s. His application of this varied knowledge helped put Phoenix on the map as an architecturally significant city with a singular, Modernist approach to designing homes and commercial buildings that celebrate the desert's dramatic lighting and stark color palette.

Soon after opening his award-winning practice in 1974, Bruder made it clear he was about celebrating desert views. Ignoring popular trends in homebuilding, Bruder's designs literally turned their backs on the city, featuring sweeping desert vistas with houses retrofitted into our arid topography. He even helped popularize the notion that a home design can consider climate for energy efficiency.

Bruder's piece de resistance is the Burton Barr Central Library, a five-story, 280,000-square-foot landmark that features an open, one-acre media room, and a five-floor, glass-and-steel elevator and stairwell. The motorized louvers on the building's south façade deflect the sun, and the fifth-floor reading room houses every one of the library's nonfiction titles. The library is a testament to Bruder's goal to create buildings that are both beautiful and functional, simple and complex. He's created this sort of forward-thinking design both far and wide, and we're proud of him. Mostly, we're glad he continues to design and build his magnificent structures here in our town.

Best of Phoenix 2009 In Photos

Legacy-wise, it's been an off year for Phoenix Mayor Phil Gordon. (How could he accomplish any sort of agenda when there's not a penny in the till?) Personally, too, it's been rough out there. (Gordon didn't just get divorced — a political rival actually spread allegations so odious that the FBI had to get involved.)

But Phil's still our guy. ¿Por que? The highly caffeinated politician is this crazy desert town's best booster. He's refused to let naysayers paint Phoenix as unsafe, correcting their blather with the facts whenever he can. He's here, there, and everywhere, Hoovering up stimulus cash for the city like a vacuum cleaner on speed. And, more than anything, we love that Gordon actually hatched a harebrained scheme to change the city charter and let him have another two years as mayor. Yeah, the plan is dead, but we've got to give props to a guy who loves being the mayor of Phoenix enough to even contemplate it.

Best of Phoenix 2009 In Photos

Nate Anderson radiates the kind of innate charm and cool confidence that only a natural-born salesman could posses.

It's to be expected, considering that the 27-year-old Ohio native grew up in a family filled with charismatic entrepreneurs. The lanky redhead is also a genuinely easygoing cat, whose social rapport and smooth-talking swagger probably proved invaluable after he moved to Phoenix in 2005 and became a successful real estate broker who pulls in six figures. (Shelley Levene from Glengarry Glen Ross, he is not.) But after this career path proved to be emotionally unrewarding, however, Anderson dropped out of the property-pimping trade.

He's never looked back, however, especially after figuring out his true calling in life: getting musical instruments into the hands of students. In 2008, he created the non-profit Ear Candy to help subsidize and establish music education for local K-12 schools in need. (There's more than a few of those, as Arizona ranks near the bottom in the nation in arts funding).

As a lifelong gourmandizer of music, Anderson (who received eight years of childhood piano training and visits dozens of big-name concert festivals every year) combined this passion with his penchant for social entrepreneurism and began orchestrating fundraising shows and massive instrument drives across Phoenix. It's resulted in two straight years of frantic 16-hour work days, filled with soliciting donations and networking with record label executives, local politicians, venue owners, and chart-topping musicians.

Anderson's also recruited a variety of local bands, including Kinch and Black Carl, for Ear Candy events, both as a means of providing exposure, as well as an attempt to unify Phoenix's segmented (read: cliquish) music scene for a single cause. Best of all, the money and instruments collected go to the institutions in need throughout the Valley.

His hard work, silver tongue, and boundless connections have resulted in some sweet victories so far: He's collected and distributed more than 300 instruments in the past year alone (ranging from bass guitars to accordions), partnered with the likes of Eric Clapton and Jerry Riopelle, and booked popular indie act Harlem Shakes at an Ear Candy gig at Tempe's Sail Inn over the summer.

Anderson is confident Ear Candy's efforts will prove so successful that he'll eventually launch spin-offs in cities from Brooklyn to Boise, and maybe even around the world. Sounds pretty sweet, Nate.

Best of Phoenix 2009 In Photos

Many years ago, we were driving home at night through the mildly mean streets of Phoenix when we noticed something you never saw back then in these parts. On a non-descript building on then-non-descript Roosevelt Street, we saw tiny, white holiday lights. And it wasnt even Christmas. We asked around, and learned that someone had opened a music space: Modified Arts. Then some crazy kids bought a building and called it eye lounge, setting the stage for the visual arts. Today, Modified and eye lounge have good company an entire neighborhood devoted to the arts: more music spaces, galleries, a record store, a bakery. As we type it, we are still shaking our heads in disbelief, but, yes, we have a bona fide arts district and it even has a funky name: Roosevelt Row. True, it doesnt quite stretch from 16th Street to Grand Avenue, as some claim, but from Seventh Street to Central Avenue, youve got a fabulous core of vibrant activity that spills over into neighboring streets and is starting to take off on days other than the first Friday of the month. Sometimes, dreams do come true and our hearts go out in gratitude to those who dared.

Best of Phoenix 2009 In Photos

If we were tacky, we'd give an award for "Best Place to Hold a Memorial Service," and the winner would be the Orpheum Theater. Restored to its glory, trimmed with gold and capped with a breathtaking deep blue, star-strewn ceiling, it's a great place to see a show and an even better place to remember a dreamer.

Fancy-pants elected officials and business types rose one Saturday this summer to honor Jack Pfister, who passed away after a lifetime of public service. They did a nice job. But we could have sat longer that Saturday afternoon; we would have liked to hear from those who saw another side — some would say pointless, others idealistic — of the former utility executive and regent.

Like Loretta Avent, who knew Pfister from their days together on the Harmony Alliance, a multicultural meeting of the minds that began in the early 1990s and drew folks to a different house of worship each week.

"He believed that every cause could be helped — and he helped everyone who came to him," says Avent. She should know; over the years she asked her friend for help with some sticky ones.

And no one mentioned our personal favorite memory of Pfister — the time he stood up to then-Governor J. Fife Symington and his staff during the Project SLIM (State Long-Term Improved Management) scandal. He surely lost friends over that one. No matter. Jack Pfister's real friends packed the Orpheum this summer to remember a man who dared to dream and in so doing, touched many people — and a city.

Best of Phoenix 2009 In Photos