Two women hug like long-lost sisters beneath a gazebo at north Phoenix’s Roadrunner Park. Gina Niedzwiecki and Ruth Murray had been chatting by phone for months, since they’d learned of their sadly similar stories. But this sunny day in mid-January marks the first time they’ve met in person, and their…
I reckon my cheeks are redder than Elmo’s ass, the cheeks closest to my grill-piece, that is. It’s a Saturday night at Tempe’s colossal, 28,000-square-foot Graham Central Station (www.grahamcentralstationtempe.com), the four-in-one nightclub that includes the karaoke bar Alley Cats, a Top 40 dance hall called South Beach, an ’80s room…
I nearly fell off my bike on a recent cold night when I saw the agent listed on a for-sale sign in front of one of the most historic homes in Arizona — the Farmer-Goodwin mansion in Tempe. My stomach tightened, and I slowly began circling on my bike in…
For the Phoenix Family Museum, there is no bigger event than the annual “Family Affair” gala. Last February, the gala raised almost a quarter of a million dollars. With a “Chinese New Year” theme for the February 5 festivities — complete with a magical dragon — the fledging museum hopes…
One of the most popular cats on the FM dial locally is Power 92.3’s JX3, who keeps things fresh and fantabulous weeknights from 7 to 10 p.m. on the Valley’s No. 1 hip-hop station. That is, there’s always something different going down on his show, whether it’s Suns stud Amaré…
Sounds of Silence Supporting the scene: Here’s a summary of the article titled “Last Dance” (Brendan Joel Kelley, January 6): A musical guy with a day job hasn’t gotten a record deal. Boo-f*cking-hoo! Phoenix New Times thinks that’s somehow newsworthy? Shame on you! Living in Phoenix for those of us…
On the left sits Harry The Politician. On the right is Tony The Lobbyist. They’re talking on the telephone, swapping campaign contributions for corporate tax breaks. This is how government works in Arizona, intones the narrator in this 1998 television commercial, paid for by backers of an initiative that created…
Hip-Hop Brouhaha The proper use of the N-word: Great article on the hip-hop war in town (“‘Nigga,’ Please,” Joe Watson, December 23), but let me make a considerable point or two. Isn’t it funny when scumballs from that world collide? I used to be into the whole culture and its…
In the beginning, when Laci Peterson was just another missing person and Scott Peterson only a husband under suspicion, Kathy Monkman wanted nothing to do with the case. Didnt want to watch the endless coverage on cable TV; didnt want to chat about it online. Of all the court watchers…
The new year has done nothing to alter the idiotic behavior of too many of our local elected leaders. But before we descend into the abyss, how about this wonderful weather? Forget about all the negative adjectives used to describe the threatening storms pummeling the Valley. I’m rejoicing with every…
On the morning of January 6, veteran prosecutor Cindi Nannetti received two visitors in her fifth-floor offices at the Maricopa County Attorney’s Office. There, the longtime chief of the agency’s nationally respected sex-crimes unit learned from Phil MacDonnell and Sally Wells, top aides to new County Attorney Andrew Peyton Thomas,…
If Inferno were to begin accepting commercial endorsements, like NASCAR speed demons or them ho’s at the Olympics, Red Bull and vodka would be the official drink of this column. Though the switch-hittin’ Ciara of the PHX sometimes orders a vodka-tonic, the Kremester always asks for some Bull and hooch,…
N-Word Uproar We ain’t all bad: So I was getting ready to write a letter bashing your use of the N-word. I mean, I can’t believe you racist motherfuckers used that term in a headline, even if it was a quote from some low-life, half-white hip-hop artist and the term’s…
He speaks from the murky shadows of Booth #55, a man in navy pinstripes with a voice like gravel frying in brown butter. “You wanna know about Jack Durant? I’ve got stories you won’t believe.” His hands are neatly manicured; his tie expertly dimpled; there’s a felt hat on the…
A Politician’s Politician A standup guy: Paul Rubin’s story on Maricopa County Attorney Rick Romley (“Balls in the Air,” December 16) was first-rate and fair. My assessment is that Romley, even though he’s a Republican, would make a far better governor than Janet Napolitano. I hope he runs against her,…
The Moore the Merrier One film looms over all others in 2004: Fahrenheit 9/11, released in the heat of summer and the heat of an election-year battle, cast all comers in its estimable shadow and renders them moot. Combined, the dozen or so political docs that received theatrical distribution this…
Our best movies of the year actually may have been anything but the best to a few of our critics — such is the dilemma of offering employment to writers of dissenting opinion. In other words, the No. 1 film of 2004 wasn’t universally heralded by our team of Bill…
Dear Alexander Payne: How do I love thee? Let me count the ways: 1. You made Election and About Schmidt, two hilarious, probing comedies about suburban anomie and human angst. 2. You followed these with Sideways, transporting the same deep humor into a totally different milieu and combining a loser-buddy…
Dear Spike Lee: The opening words of Do the Right Thing, your 1989 breakout film, were these: “Wake up!” You wanted the world to awaken to the deep and painful rifts in American race relations — between black and white, brown and white, black and brown, the whole enchilada. You…
To understand this most tumultuous year in film, over which loomed the ghost of a blessed messiah and the shadow of an accursed pariah, turn your eyes from the movie screen and look to the bookshelf. There you will find a copy of Peter Biskind’s Down and Dirty Pictures, which…
While Michael Moore and Mel garnered most of this year’s critical attention, plenty of fine films opened to little or no fanfare. Following are our reviewers’ favorite movies that didn’t draw the adulation they deserved. Consider yourself armed for the next trip to Blockbuster: Control Room — In a year…
This is the comedy-club rule: Sit up front, and you can expect to get fucked with, at least a little bit. Plus, when you roll on any club with the bisexual Ashanti of P-town lookin’ fine in a low-cut, form-fitting, red satin top, it’s like wearing a raw T-bone as…
