Best Happy Hour Resource for Cougar Hunters

www.cougarsandco.com

Happy hours are all pretty much the same. But a Scottsdale woman organizes a series of, among other things, happy hours for "cougars" to meet "cubs." We're talking, of course, about hot older women and the younger men who want to sleep with them. Cougar Shelli Netko started the group and does her best to help fellow cougars hunt their prey during happy hour events with themes like Sex and the City 2. The cougar hunt doesn't stop when happy hour ends — Netko organizes cougar/cub vacations through her website, too.
Jacki O. is definitely not stuck in a creative rut. Years ago, the local performance/visual artist, writer, and 'zine maker published the more traditional Your Invisible City and Desert City Death Distro. Good publications, indeed, but PoolBoy is anything but conventional. You see, the lifestyle mag showcases photos. Portraits, mainly. Of naked dudes. Not beefcakes or anything like that, but rather the scholarly, the nerdy, the hipster-y. PoolBoy, which was an online-only endeavor for years, finally churned out a physical product this past summer. The glossy spreads (and the articles, of course) definitely look better on paper. Just sayin'.
Tempe Marketplace
Seriously. If you have not been to Tempe Marketplace, you might think we are making this up. But it's true. We've been there; we've seen it. We've even enjoyed it. Year-round — like, even on a day when the temperature hits 115 degrees — the super-size mall on the edge of Tempe keeps a gas fire roaring. And get this: It's actually comfortable. It's pleasant, sitting outside on an overstuffed couch in the heat of the Phoenix summer, by a fire. The misters are always blasting, which we know contributes to the lower temp, but we have a theory that Tempe Marketplace also pumps air conditioning into the outdoor mall area. We've considered calling to ask, but if it's true, even we — as pale a shade of green as we are — won't be able to enjoy a nice August evening by the fire any more. So selfishly, we'll stay ignorant. And blissful. It's just one of those bizarre things about living in Phoenix that we have to admit we love. Anyone want to meet by the fire for a Mojo fro-yo?
Let's clear the air: We'd prefer that you never mention anything about carbon footprints, global warming, or the ozone layer ever again. It got old five minutes after Al Gore first opened his mouth. Lest you think us environmental assholes or anything like that, that ain't the case. We just wanted it to be clear that the reason we're pimping this cab company is that its cars are absolutely spotless — as in, practically sterile — and not because its fleet is made up of 26 of those damned Prius models (albeit with a certain gas pedal snafu fixed). Sure, there's the whole thing about how Clean Air Cabs (which is run outta Washington, D.C. and launched in Phoenix last fall) cuts down on both emissions and gas usage with its smug-wagons, but we'd rather mention that we've never experienced any discarded wads of chewing gum or cigarette butts, let alone the always-deadly B.O. stank from a previous rider.
State Highway 238 is only sort of a shortcut — honestly, we're not sure whether it's a time-efficient shortcut. But it's a beautiful drive and a nice change of scenery for vacationers like us, who have made the Phoenix-to-San-Diego-and-back trip so many times that we could do it with our eyes closed in a dust storm. If you live on the west side of the Valley, starting your trip to San Diego is a no-brainer: You take Interstate 10 to State Route 85, then head west on Interstate 8. But East Valley residents have more options. From Chandler or Mesa, you can do the 10 to the 85, or you can choose to head south on State Route 347 (Maricopa Road), jog right at State Route 84, then get on I-8. After a jillion times on the latter route, we got the itch to start heading west as soon as possible, just for kicks. The 238 veers off of the 347 just as you get to Maricopa, coming from the north. We took it once at night a few years ago, before it was paved — let's just say it was the first time the wife was ever happy to see Gila Bend. Now it's asphalt the whole way. The road is much hillier, twistier, and more narrow than most highways around here, giving a more intimate and fun Sonoran Desert experience. You won't make up much time on this shortcut, but the time you do spend will seem to go faster.
Admittedly, he won't go down in meta-history as the most super of superheroes. But in the minds of native Phoenicians such as ourselves — whose embryonic years included a daily dose of The Wallace & Ladmo Show — Captain Super was one of the more memorable übermenschen of our collective pre-pubescence. Clad in red, white, and blue regalia, "Supe" (as he was dubbed) stood out from the cadre of kooky characters making up the cast of the legendary local kids' show, which aired weekday mornings on KPHO from 1954 to 1989. It certainly wasn't because of his "powers" (which were non-existent) or any actions that were even remotely heroic. Instead, his buffoonish breakfast-time antics always brought smiles to our faces. Portrayed by renowned radio newsman Pat McMahon (who also starred as Gerald, Aunt Maud, and a half-dozen other Wallace & Ladmo sidekicks), this milquetoast Man of Steel was utterly ineffectual and incompetent, yet eternally arrogant and ignorant of his deficiencies. Self-described as "Arizona's official hero," Captain Super would burst onto the set, spewing chauvinistic and self-deluded soliloquies to the show's hosts. An avowed enemy of communism, he'd stop at nothing to fight the "red menace," even if it meant grappling with grade-schoolers in the audience whom he felt were relatives of Joseph Stalin. And if anyone dared to jeer him, why, they just didn't understand. "The day will come when future generations will look back and realize that Captain Super was the great moral leader of this century," he stated during one visit. Though that's unlikely to happen, Supe, you'll always have a spot in our hearts.
Writer, artist, and Scottsdale resident S.S. Crompton invented the character Demi the Demoness in 1992. Since then, stories of the sweet and sexy devil girl have been published in more than 25 comics by Rip Off Press, Revisionary Press, Eros Comix, and Crompton's own publishing company, Carnal Comics. The comic's enduring popularity can be attributed to a couple things: First, Demi is a cute, little cartoon character with big breasts who gets into all sorts of erotic adventures with her girlfriend, a banished cat-goddess named Kit-Ra, who also has exaggerated boobs. And second, Demi's incredibly dense for a demon; though she has long, curly raven hair, she often acts like a stereotypical airhead blonde, which makes her both laughable and lovable.
In a small classroom of about 30 honors students, Professor Diane Facinelli is teaching her students superhero basics. We're not talking weapons, X-ray vision, or the gift of flight (though we'e heard that can be learned on the ASU Quidditch team) — no, this is much more a look into what exactly makes a superhero. Students are encouraged to read comic books, pulp magazines, and graphic novels and apply themes and characters to everyday situations. Sure, a few honors kids might not be able to save you if you're getting mugged on Mill Avenue, but they just might have the costumes to play the parts.
This annual, three-day event provides programming for a wide range of geeks, from anime films and costuming to hard-science panels and horror movie buffs. But the highlight of Phoenix Comicon has always been the comic book programming. In addition to the massive "dealer's room," where fans can find a treasure trove of new and rare comics, there are dozens of panels geared toward comic book culture, from drawing to writing to self-publishing. There are also the guests — Phoenix Comicon regularly brings in some of the biggest names in geek chic culture, including actor Wil Wheaton (Wesley Crusher on Star Trek: The Next Generation) and Spawn creator and action figure mogul Todd McFarlane. This year, the biggest name on the guest list was Marvel Comics icon Stan Lee (creator of Spider-Man, Hulk, and X-Men). Even if it weren't for the dealer's room and panels, PCC's ability to draw the comic world's biggest living legend to the Valley makes it untouchable by any other local comic convention.
Kryptonite doesn't necessarily have to be glowing and green to damage those vulnerable to its forces — kryptonite comes in many forms. U.S. Senator and former presidential hopeful John McCain's kryptonite is blonde, a little on the ditzy side, and has a pretty decent rack. McCain's daughter, Meghan McCain, is hell-bent on de-conservatizing the Republican Party — one gay marriage at a time. Before what was dubbed early on as the "fight of McCain's political life" — a conservative showdown with J.D. Hayworth — Meghan, a self-described "social liberal" boasted that her father was "coming along" when it came to his tolerance of gay marriage. Gasp! Weakened, but not dead, McCain fought on and defeated his interparty enemy, ensuring that the lesser of two evils will always prevail.

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