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Humble John
Curmudgeons in Arkansas insist on calling Bill Clinton "Slick Willie." As he is swept toward the White House by a fawning mainstream media, Arizonans may come to call U.S. Senator John McCain "Humble John."

The new and improved, under-control presidential wanna-be put on his best, golly-gee-I'm-just-button-poppin'-proud-to-be-an-ex-POW-cum-Arizona-senator act for 60 Minutes on Sunday.

Like the rest of the liberaleastcoastmediaelite, septuagenarian dope fiend Mike Wallace nearly wet his pants over Humble John during a piece titled "Arizona Maverick."

The piece, which aired Sunday, is perhaps the smarmiest yet on our state's humblest senator. Wallace focused almost exclusively on McCain's courageous campaign-finance reform legislation. Never mind that the bill was dead before it was introduced, or that McCain--who earlier this year held the most lucrative political fund-raiser in Arizona history--knew that all along.

Wallace did make passing reference to the Keating Five, McCain's infamous temper and the senator's infidelities during his first marriage, but managed to brush those qualities off as charming. There was no mention of his carpetbagging, the petty political paybacks or his impeccable taste in friends, including but not limited to criminal frauds (Charles Keating, Fife Symington) and a military fraud (Darrow "Duke" Tully, former Republic publisher/fake fighter ace and godfather to a McCain son).

Also conspicuously absent was any mention of Mrs. Humble, Cindy McCain's yearslong Percocet addiction, announced in 1994 as New Times prepared to break the story and followed by Humble John's insistence that he never knew his wife was popping pills--or that she had entered a treatment center.

Ironically, the McCain puff piece was followed by a rather probing interview with former First Lady and celebrated addict Betty Ford.

Erroneous Zone
Fans of City Council hopeful Phil Gordon are no doubt Nash-ing their teeth at this misspelled campaign sign near Seventh Street and Northern. Commitment has two "t's," not three.

Gordon, who as mayoral chief of staff has told Skip Rimsza when to jump for the past few years, squares off November 4 against Posey Moore Nash, whose slogan is, "Toward Better Spelling."

Phil has three kids, but they all must have missed the photo op that became this campaign sign. Perhaps his real kids knew Phil planned to expose his pallid leg.

My Sword Is My Shepherd
Fans of Nick Hentoff, brawling barrister and arch-baiter of Sheriff Joke Arpaio, may be wondering what he's up to these days. Nicky's last appearance in these pages was some months ago, when the Flash reported an assault he allegedly committed at a party while wearing nothing but a silver bra. The court case is still pending, but the Nickster's keeping busy.

In Seamus McCaffrey's Irish pub last Wednesday, a braless Nick got into a friendly altercation with a young lady. Being too much of a gentleman to engage in fisticuffs with the fairer sex, Nick's weapon of choice was the pub's shepherd's pie (one of the Flash's favorite dishes), which he smeared all over his opponent. She retaliated in kind, until the Nickster was wearing a mask made out of the gaelic goo.

The fight was declared a draw, and Nicky gallantly offered to clean up the mess. An honorary Irishman, Nicky-poo's been a regular customer of the pub for so many years that the barkeeps are evidently used to his antics, as they not only told him not to worry about it, but kitted out both food-fighters with tee shirts to replace the ones they'd soiled. When the Flash made an exit, Nick and his blonde food foe were merrily downing tequila shots.

Political Tip of the Week
Once lauded for its perky gossip and delicious sarcasm, the Arizona Republican Caucus Newsletter plunged to new depths in its October edition.

The political tip sheet hasn't been the same since GOP gadfly and Freon maven Becky Fenger took over as editor last year.

For no particular reason, Fenger refers to Congressman John Shadegg as a "bold young Turk," mentions state Representative Karen Johnson's high heels and refers to recently-anointed Secretary of State Betsey Bayless' pantyhose.

But the Flash was temporarily speechless over this GOP tip:
Classy Touch: The toilet paper in the restrooms at Coulter Cadillac Service Dept. is point-folded.

And we're betting the bidet dispenses Perrier.

Head of the Week
From the October issue of Maricopa Lawyer:
"Sexual behavior now admissible under Rule 404"

Parking
The Maricopa County Board of Supervisors voted September 24 to lease 900 of 1,200 parking spaces in the county's Madison Street Garage to Arizona Diamondbanks season ticket holders for the 1988 season.

Not everyone was overjoyed with this news. On September 26, Robert D. Myers, presiding judge of Superior Court, and Gordon M. Griller, court administrator, wrote to the supervisors, whining that their security and safety will be compromised by the presence of tailgating, waddling, lard-ass baseball fans clad in polyester Diamondbank memorabilia. (The court officials didn't say it in those exact words.)

"We informally advised County officials on various occasions that the Court was very troubled as to increased security and safety problems which likely would be occasioned . . ." the letter says.

The Flash sees this as poetic justice.
Firstly, most Superior Court judges are season ticket holders--they planned to use the facility during games anyway. Now they're being asked to share it with drycleaning moguls from Gilbert.

Moreover, the Superior Court on several occasions was petitioned to intervene in the interest of democracy to stop that giant domed abortion, Bank One Ballpark, from going up. There were more recusals than . . . well, there were multiple recusals among judges in the cases filed against the government in an attempt to give taxpayers a voice.

The pathetic box score indicates there wasn't a single judge in the county with the guts to stand up for the citizenry in the face of the sports powers that run our fair city. One judge actually fined a citizens' group for filing a complaint.

That's why the Flash not only believes the great robed dispensers of justice should be made to share their parking area with car dealers from Glendale, they should also be assaulted during pregame festivities with sizzling bratwurst.

Feed The Flash: voice, 229-8486; fax, 340-8806; online, [email protected]

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