Gail Griffin and Chris Sevier are a match made in a heaven where porn doesn't exist, everyone is fully clothed at all times, and no one ever thinks an impure thought. That sounds an awful lot like Utah, where Sevier once tried to marry his laptop as he strongly implied that gay marriage was just as ridiculous. The anti-gay activist came up with an anti-porn idea this year as his latest stunt, and spread it like a disease through 18 states, including Arizona. Griffin signed on as Sevier's political soulmate, introducing HB 2444 in January. The bill would have required electronic devices in Arizona to be fitted with software that would block all internet porn. To remove the block, you'd have to be over 18 and pay $20. The money would go to something called the John McCain Human Trafficking and Child Exploitation Fund, and this new fund's No. 1 priority would have been to help build Donald Trump's border wall between the United States and Mexico. Even for the red, Trump-supporting state of Arizona, this was mad-genius-level legislation. Griffin soon pulled her bill from consideration after nationwide ridicule.

Public officials never admit to anything, even when they get caught. Journalists, by contrast, are in it for the story. Writers may produce a book, like David Carr's Night of the Gun. TV reporter Bryan West of Channel 12 (KPNX-TV) decided to take up writing after serving nine days in jail for extreme DUI and failing to obey police commands. The burst of literary prowess for the reporter, who typically covers morning practice by high school bands, debuted on social media, naturally. In the 3,200-word essay, West apologizes for his actions and describes how he lived a double life as a hardcore alcoholic for "too many years," often drinking until he blacked out. He relates how his drunk and reckless driving led to his arrest that fateful night in August 2018. Yeah, we heard he left out some key details. But the deeply personal mea culpa on Facebook, set to public, was well received by USA Today's editor and hundreds of other journalists and well-wishers. West still hasn't returned to his on-air job at Channel 12. With luck, he's pursuing a less self-destructive lifestyle.

There are many ways to handle an election loss. One might express gratitude to supporters and look forward to spending more time with family. Hungrier candidates might begin reviewing what went wrong and planning for the next election. What's not recommended is lashing out like a child against public relations professionals on Twitter, a la failed State Superintendent of Public Instruction candidate Frank Riggs. As election returns spelled bad news for Riggs against Democrat Kathy Hoffman, Riggs used his preferred social media app to lob some unkind words toward consultant David Leibowitz, who had taken some jabs at the 68-year-old perennial candidate. "Punk & coward," Riggs wrote to Leibowitz. "Couldn't last one week in boot camp or police academy. Sorry Softie." Riggs went on to hurl insults at flacks and journalists who weighed in on his poor election results and juvenile behavior. Don't conservatives like Riggs have a word for overly sensitive people who flip out when they're lightly criticized? Oh, yeah — #snowflake.

After a racist yearbook photo threatened to derail Virginia Governor Ralph Northam, the USA Today Network began an ambitious project to examine what other nasty secrets decades-old school memory albums might reveal. Well, they certainly found a doozy in the 1988-89 Arizona State University yearbook: a photo of two white frat boys in blackface makeup dressed as heavyweight champion Mike Tyson and his soon-to-be ex-wife Robin Givens, who had alleged physical abuse. And who not only was the editor of that yearbook, but also the student who designed that offensive page? Yep, current USA Today Editor Nicole Carroll, who previously had been a top executive at the Arizona Republic and a member of the ASU journalism school's hall of fame. Carroll didn't take questions from reporters, but did issue an immediate mea culpa through the network. Alas, her apology had to be corrected for a factual error. Journalism 101: Don't assign a story without knowing if you're going to be a part of it. And if you are forced to apologize, make sure it's correct.

Arizona history has no shortage of career-ending political scandals, but few, if any, have matched the sheer awfulness of state Representative David Stringer's. The Prescott Republican's downfall began in July 2018, when a video of him lamenting that there are "not enough white kids to go around" in Arizona public schools went viral, revealing his racism (and earning him the distinction of Best Viral Newsmaker in that year's Best of Phoenix). More racism from Stringer, recorded on tape and published by New Times in November, renewed calls for him to resign. Then, the bomb dropped. New Times published a report in January revealing that Stringer accepted a plea deal on multiple sex crimes when he lived in Baltimore in the '80s. For two months, Stringer resisted calls to step down and refused to cooperate with an ethics probe into his past. But that didn't stop investigators, led by Joe Kanefield, from digging up a police report showing that his case involved allegations that he paid young boys, including a developmentally disabled child, multiple times for sex. That revelation finally brought Stringer down. Good riddance.

Once you've taken a look through the impressive repertoire of the Kaiserworks studio, you instantly will recognize its work. Throughout the Valley, you can cross the threshold into many of its creations that are occupied by businesses like Undefeated, Changing Hands Bookstore in Phoenix, and Welcome Diner. Principal designer Christoph Kaiser and his team have garnered an illustrious reputation by designing spaces that break the barrier of architectural norms but still provide a universal and welcoming aura. Beyond providing exquisite spaces for local businesses, Kaiserworks has also made a lasting impression in home design. Perhaps its most celebrated structure is the Silo House, a 1955-grain silo converted into a 360-square-foot, two-story home, located in the Garfield neighborhood.

Jared Duran's independent podcast hit the 100-episode milestone this year. He marked the occasion by interviewing Wilco's Nels Cline before the guitarist took the stage at the Musical Instrument Museum. Duran's passion for the performer's craft showed throughout the episode, but his natural curiosity isn't limited to the touring musicians he now interviews on a regular basis. The conversations aren't a one-way street, either. He is genuinely intrigued by what fuels the inspiration for the local writers, artists, and influencers who talk to him. Much like Marc Maron, who is Duran's inspiration, he's not afraid to bring his insecurity and neuroses to the show, which is what keeps Phoenix coming back week after week.

KWSS is the local radio station that could. The independently owned operation, which can be found at 93.9 on your FM dial, has been broadcasting choice selections of indie and alternative rock across Valley airwaves 24/7 for the past 14 years. And it's earned a listenership and fanbase while doing so. The station's success, however, hasn't been powered by the backing of a multimillion-dollar media conglomerate, well-monied sponsors, or wide-reaching advertising campaigns. Instead, KWSS has survived and thrives thanks to the tireless efforts of its small but passionate staff, including Dani Cutler, Jay Cairo, Dubs Witma, and owner Frank Magarelli. They put together the station's playlists (which include deep cuts, rarities, and old-school alt-rock and indie tracks, not to mention music from emerging and established local bands), host daily and weekly shows, and handle other behind-the-scenes duties. KWSS is also the only place in the Valley you can hear esteemed radio personality Jonathan L. broadcast audio oddities via his legendary Lopsided World of L program, as well as the sort of tunes that aren't on other local rock stations. In a landscape dominated by giants of the airwaves, KWSS stands a bit taller than the rest.

The Show airs every weekday morning on KJZZ/91.5 FM starting at 9, and it's a blend of local news, politics, interviews, commentary, and analysis, all of it with general appeal. Catch up on the latest news, or learn something about a subject you might never have expected, like the Valley's culinary scene. One of the best elements of The Show is its in-depth interviews, which dig behind the headlines to explore the how and why of something, rather than just the what. Hosts Lauren Gilger, Steven Goldstein, and Mark Brodie are calm, effective presences — nothing like the bombastic hosts you'd be apt to skip on other radio stations. They step in at just the right times to direct the conversation, ask a question, or inject levity and character into a discussion. But what really makes The Show is its local focus, the sense that it is a program very much by and for people who live in and care about the Valley of the Sun.

Phoenix has become a hotspot for storytelling over the last few years. Folks like Liz Warren, Dan Hull, and Rachel Egboro have been organizing events and spreading the gospel of yarn-spinning across the Valley. The storytelling community in Arizona is large yet tight-knit: Go to a handful of shows, and you're bound to see a few regular faces like Joy Young bring the house down with their heartfelt and hysterical stories. In addition to being a storyteller, Young (who uses they/them pronouns) is a poet, juggler, and occasional zinemaker. Their years of experience doing poetry slams have given them major stage chops, which is part of the reason why Young is so compelling to watch and listen to. They have a natural ease on stage; listening to them talk on the mic feels as intimate as sitting in a friend's kitchen while they tell you all about what they did last night. But in a field crowded with dynamic personalities, Young stands out for their willingness to experiment. Young brings their circus training to bear during storytelling shows, making juggling, balloon animals, and other fun sideshow flourishes a part of their work.