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Betcha Max Jarman's seen his mini-me..

I wonder what it feels like to butt-lick one of the biggest assholes on face of the planet? That's what I'd like to ask Arizona Republic journo (and I use that word loosely) Max Jarman, after reading his verbal rim-job of Richard Adkerson, CEO of Freeport-McMoRan Copper & Gold Inc. in Sunday's business section. Titled blandly, "Freeport CEO stays focused on the future," the article is an example of everything that's wrong with journalism today. Adkerson is an environmental Darth Vader, a Dark Prince of Dirt whom The Bird wrote about in the May 3 column item "A Hole." His company's Grasberg mine, the largest gold mine in the world, is an immense gaping sore visible from space, caused by the excavation of nearly a billion tons of earth in the past 30 years. This environmental mega-disaster has been the subject of a shitload of critical articles, including a massive 6,000-plus-word expose on the Grasberg mine by The New York Times titled "Below a Mountain of Wealth, a River of Waste."

The Grasberg mine from space, courtesy of NASA.

The Times article documents the Grasberg mine's rape of the local landscape, and the way Freeport-McMoRan's bought off the Indonesian military to the detriment of the environment and the local Papuan population. Indeed, the Times article reports that,

Company records obtained by The Times show that from 1998 through 2004, Freeport gave military and police generals, colonels, majors and captains, and military units, nearly $20 million. Individual commanders received tens of thousands of dollars, in one case up to $150,000, according to the documents.

As you might expect, the Indonesian military is not exactly known for its support of human rights, and it's used its close connection with the Grasberg mine to suppress the locals and squash any rumblings of a separatist movement. The Times cites "Australian anthropologist, Chris Ballard, who worked for Freeport, and Abigail Abrash, an American human rights campaigner," who estimate that "160 people had been killed by the military between 1975 and 1997 in the mine area and its surroundings." Violent demonstrations and rioting have erupted previously in Papua over the Grasberg mine's pollution and the human rights abuses of the military, which many locals associate with Grasberg.

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Smokin' cheddar: The amazing Dick Cheese with his band, sans Old Spice...

Can you smell it, people -- the magical aroma of Dick Cheese with Old Spice? Whether loving homage or (more likely) blatant rip-off, the new Old Spice commercial featuring Evil Dead star Bruce Campbell crooning a lounge-y version of the DuranDuran hit "Hungry Like the Wolf" seems lifted straight from the playbook of Phoenix son and Lounge Lizard King Richard Cheese, whose own version of the tune is a fan fave.

True, the commercial, which depicts the cheesified Campbell in a swank, '60s-style, shag-carpeted den, tickling the ivories in a tux shirt with tie loosened, surrounded by a passel of mega-babes, is pretty cool. But how much cooler would it have been if Dick had done it? After phoning the Dean Martin-esque musical genius, ensconced in his swanker-than-thou Vegas digs, he told me he'd respond to my questions via his MySpace blogsite, as he's been inundated with queries from Cheese-heads ever since the ad first aired.

"I just saw the commercial for the first time the other night, and I was very disappointed," writes the millennium's Mel Torme. "Old Spice has blatantly ripped off my act. Gee, a tux-wearing lounge singer surrounded by chicks crooning a Vegas-style version of an alternative rock song? What an original idea! Did Bill Murray put you up to this??"

The Dickster continues, declaring to the world that,

"I have nothing against Bruce Campbell, who is a fabulous entertainer, but I think the Old Spice people have really slapped me in the face. This whole thing has been like a cold bracing splash of their wicked cologne, except I just shaved, so it burns, and burns hard."

But this is one Dick that won't lay down. In the same blog post, The Cheesy One announces that his "incredibly high-paid attorneys" are exploring "all avenues of litigation" against corporate monstrosity Procter & Gamble, which manufactures the cinnamon-ny men's fragrance. In the meanwhile, the silver-voiced vocalist is calling on his fans to, "boycott Procter & Gamble's Swiffer Carpet Flick 20.6cm x 9.6cm Cleaning Cartridges! Take that Procter and Gamble! Ha!"

Sure, Richard Cheese isn't the only singer who's ever done lounge versions of popular tunes. (His include such classics as Prodigy's "Smack My Bitch Up," Rage Against The Machine's "Guerilla Radio," or Nirvana's "Rape Me.") But this is his shtick, people. And in the words of the James Bond theme as sung by Carly Simon, "Nobody Does It Better." Plus, employing Dick Cheese would open Old Spice to whole new demographic of the young, the hip, the uber-cool, who're already "in" on the Richard Cheese experience.

Inquiries to P&G flacks regarding this matter were not immediately responded to, but I will update this post if they get back to me with a statement. In my opinion, they should just own up to being inspired by Dick, and contract him to produce their next commercial, even if they keep Bruce Campbell on for continuity's sake. That way they'd get a better ad, and they'd appease the millions of Dick-lovers out there who're royally pissed by this dissing of their dood.

So instead of just eating crow, swallow a little Dick Cheese, P&G, and make us all happy.

PS: For more on Dick Cheese, read former New Times staffer Jimmy Magahern's 2005 cover story on the icon, "Big Cheese." Also, very weirdly, YouTube has a mini-documentary on the making of the Campbell Old Spice commercial, here.

Chuey mixes up a "Chuey special," with extra Chuey-juice...

"It's like Terri Schiavo night in here," cracks my pal and personal hero Chuey the Rock 'n' Roll Midget. "You know, tryin' to stay alive."

I glance around. The crowd's almost two deep at the world's first ever fully-functioning midget bar, located just inside the door of that Scottsdale den of debauchery known as Giligin's. Clearly, Chuey (born Santiago Jimenez) is used to even more action on the Friday and Saturday nights that his mini-bar is open for business. But already his tip jar is full and hot chicks are coming up, giving him smooches on his Oompa-Loompa mouth, their boyfriends looking on with pride. Wenches who briefly doff their tops for the wee mon can earn a free drink. Chuey says it happens at least a couple of times a night.

I believe it. I know from writing about Chuey last spring in the cover story "Mouthful of Midget" that Chuey's a serious dwarf star, hosting along with Giligin's owner Cap'n Mike their notorious Wheel of Fear Factor on Wednesday nights, a cross between Fear Factor and Wheel of Fortune. Contestants eat everything from dog food to duck embryos to earn points towards a free keg of beer. Hot squalies are encouraged to flash the crowd for mega-points, and regularly do, as Cap'n Mike and Chuey bombard the drunken audience with politically incorrect one-liners.

Like this one from Chuey, who also calls himself the Satanic Hispanic, "I love Jesus, I mean Hay-zus. He mows my lawn every Saturday." Or, "Hey, Cap, know what's the opposite of Christopher Reeve? Christopher Walken."

Though Chuey emcees other nights at Giligin's and has tended the main bar before, Cap'n Mike came up with the idea of giving the ribald little fucker his own space to sling drinks, capitalizing on Chuey's runaway popularity. The bar's built to meet Chuey's needs, at about 3 1/2 feet in height so that the 4'3" Chuey can easily work it. It's fully-stocked, with a glassed-in refrigerator, a sink behind the bar, a flat-screen TV, and its own stripper pole for inebriated hotties to get their grind on. There are little stools so the big people see eye to eye with Chuey, and the crooked bartop is of faux gray slate. A neon sign announcing "Chuey's Mini-Bar" with the outline of a big yellow sombrero hangs on one wall. And the entire bar area's decorated Mexican cantina-style.

The midget bar's killer "mini bar" sign.

Chuey says the bar's been open for four weeks now. "It cost Cap'n Mike about $10,000 and took six months to build," he informs me, adding an un-PC shot at the Cap'n's Jewish heritage. "It takes Noah one month to build an ark, but it takes this Jew six months to build a midget bar."

If you're easily offended, stay the eff away from Giligin's. Employees chime in on the sound system from time to time, messin' with the customers. At one point in the evening, with a couple of Scottsdale ho's dancing on a stripper pole on the other side of the main bar, Chuey chimes in on the mic, "My seven-year-old niece gives better lapdances."

Have other people Chuey's size come through to bend a pint-sized elbow? Chuey says a couple have, but that in general, a lot of his fellow dwarfs and whatnot take offense at his use of the word midget to describe himself, the Little People of America in particular.

"They don't like me because I call myself a midget, and don't go to their meetings or donate to them," shrugs Chuey. "You should not be alive on this planet if you can't take a fucking joke. If people get pissed at me, I tell 'em, `Go home, write your congressman, tell him Chuey sucks.'"

Bartending does wonders for your sex life, according to Chuey, who says he prefers "tall white women" to chicks his own size. His most recent conquest? A teacher from Surprise with whom he hooked up after closing time. He shows me the napkin with her cell phone number on it.

"She was a brunette, and had red panties," smiles the quarter-Casanova. "I take care of my customers."

That Chuey's gotten more female action in his 25 years on this planet than I'll ever see, I have no doubt. Christ, the guy's already been on The Jerry Springer Show four times. And I think he could easily be a regular on Howard Stern, if Stern producer Gary Dell'Abate ever came calling, taking the place of Hank the Angry, Drunken Dwarf, now deceased. Chuey's a lot funnier than Hank was, and though he drinks, I've never seen him as loaded as Hank used to get.

However, there are people who're jealous of Chuey's fame, notably some regular-sized bartenders.

"What am I supposed to do?" he asks, throwing up his little arms. "Apologize because God made me a midget?"

The Rock `n' Roll Midget at rest...

Giligin's is located at 4251 N Winfield Scott Plaza, Scottsdale, AZ 85251. Phone: (480) 874-2264

J. Edgar Hoover must be rollin' over in his bloomers: One of his FBI agents, a hardened criminal? That's the tale told by campus cops at Tucson's University of Arizona, where Agent Ryan Seese was arrested May 3, shortly after a cleaning lady observed him whackin’ off in the women's restroom of the student union. Um, allegedly.

According to the campus police report,

“As she was wiping off the last stall door, furtherest south, the door was opened by a white male standing inside the stall with his pants below his knees. (The woman) went on to say she saw his penis and the male was masturbating by rubbing his hand over his erect penis.”

And they wonder why the Bureau didn't catch the 9/11 hijackers.

Seese fled the bathroom after exposing himself, and the cleaning lady's supervisor called the campus cops. Officer Gary Fountain soon arrived and walked with the frazzled custodian back to the scene of the crime. He writes,

"I was standing outside of the women's bathroom with (the cleaning lady) waiting for the women using the bathroom to exit, when I saw a male walk out of the same women's bathroom."

Seese apparently thought his mission too vital to abandon. Or maybe he just went back for seconds. What a moron! If the dood had taken off right after he flashed his pole to the maid, they probably'd never have caught him. These are the kinds of geniuses we employ at our nation's premier law enforcement agency.

In any case, as soon as he reappeared, the custodian cried "That's the guy!" And Seese took off faster than Agents Mulder and Scully after a UFO. With Officer Fountain hard on his heels, the chase continued to the parking garage where Seese stopped and Fountain told him to get on the ground. When Seese didn't move fast enough, Fountain "grabbed the back of his shirt collar and pulled him backward." Seese "spun around and knelt on his knees." Fountain cuffed the G-man as other officers came to assist.

Officer Greg Ewer asked Seese if he had identification.

“He said, ‘No, I don’t have it on me.’ I asked where his ID was and he said, ‘I’m in law enforcement.’ I asked what agency and he said, ‘FBI,’” Ewer wrote in the report. Seems the wanker left his badge and gun in his car before going undercover.

Patting Seese down, Ewer noticed a metal object sticking out of the man's front pants pocket. Ewer asked him what it was.

"Um, a mirror," Seese replied. Hey, at least it wasn't strapped to one of his shoes.

Seese was then taken to a holding area where police swabbed his hands for samples and made him take off his clothes, now evidence. The FBI version of Paul Rubens was cited on three counts: indecent exposure, public sexual indecency, and criminal trespass.

No word yet on whether it was a “repeat” offense.

Seese was later released, with his FBI supervisor stopping by to pick him up. Aww, isn't that sweet.

Back in the chick's bog, it was like an episode of CSI: Tucson. Investigators collected "wadded up tissue with possible semen from the feminine product receptacle," as well as "a hair found inside the toilet bowl." (Eww.) They also took a sample of the stall floor using sheets of sticky tape.

Heh. No one can accuse Agent Seese of shootin’ blanks, even if the guy is a real jerk.

One final point, do you think if this perv was a regular schmo that he'd have been released like this instead of going straight to jail? Maybe I'm wrong, but I can't imagine they'd just cite and release some run-of-the-mill creep who'd exposed himself in the girls room. One of the many perks, I'm sure, of being an FBI agent.

Chris Simcox is not in this way-awesome band, but he is in a monkey knife fight...

Well, either Chris Simcox was bullshitting me last night by telling me only three MCDC minutemen had been kicked out of his org. ( see my earlier post, "Monkey Knife Fight at the MCDC: Chris Simcox puts the smack down... "), or he's purged more people since then from the pay-triot ranks. Hmmm, whaddya wanna bet it was the former? Bullshit a bullshitter? How dare he!

I did think it was kinda weird he seemed to keep bumbling his numbers as I tried to pin him down on how many of his fellow doofi he'd given the boot to over at the nation's premier minuteman (read, "weekend warrior") outfit. But now here comes an announcement via the MCDC forum titled "Minuteman Civil Defense Corps Replaces Volunteer Administrators," and it's a doozy. Check this out:

Regrettably, in the last several days, after reports to national headquarters from state and chapter directors around the country it became clear that a very small group of volunteer administrators within the organization had become ambitious of power, ineffective and distracted from our primary mission, and were in fact determined to attempt to defame and oust the MCDC Board of Directors and Al Garza, MCDC Executive Director. Local leader reports, intercepted emails and phone calls revealed plans to attempt to install their own Board and to take over the organization that Chris and Carmen founded and have dedicated themselves to building.

We realize that some volunteers may have been misled by the intent of the “Ad Hoc Committee” and they may be offered by the Board a later opportunity to return in good standing as MCDC volunteers.

So last night it was just three or four, and now it's more like 10? Jeez, Chris, you're worse than Pravda. The disparity between what Simcox told me last night and what MCDC has announced this morning, lends even more credence to the Southern Poverty Law Center's assertion that this is a major "implosion," and perhaps even fatal to Simcox's leadership of MCDC.

Oh, the drama! Will Simcox survive the coup? Will the MCDC end up being Simcox and Al Garza playing Tiddlywinks on the border? Is there anyone out there still dumb enough to give their hard-earned scrilla to these backward, backbiting wackos? And will flag-burner Laine Lawless finally get the revenge she's been praying to Diana for? Stay tuned for more as the crisis at the MCDC develops in "As the Wing-nuts Turn..."

Now which one is Chris Simcox?

It's a regular monkey knife fight down at the Scottsdale HQ of the Minuteman Civil Defense Corps, where alpha male prez Chris Simcox, aka "The Little Prince," has recently purged anywhere from three to 14 members for revolting against his iron rule and asking questions about MCDC finances.

According to the Southern Poverty Law Center, MCDC Deputy Executive Director Bob Wright's the leader of the failed putsch. But instead of a beer hall (you know, like back in Hitler days), Wright apparently had his ambush planned for the PHX's Clarion Hotel on May 19. There, he and the assembled conspirators (or patriots, take your pick) planned to confront the Little Prince on nine issues, the first and foremost being "Financial Accountability." As Wright wrote to Simcox on May 8, asking him to attend,

To date, there has not been a serious form of financial accountability on many levels to Chapter Leadership.We believe strongly that current accountability should be provided to each local and State chapter upon request. Current and past requests go unanswered.

In addition to Wright, the May 8 letter was signed by sixteen MCDC office holders and one minuteman. But the Little Prince fired back on May 14, excommunicating the ringleaders (four total), but allowing the others to stay after an oath of loyalty to der Fuhrer, uh, I mean Simcox. The MCDC leader wrote in a missive to the rebels,

It is the right of anyone to freely assemble. However, this letter will serve as notice to all those listed in the "CC Appendix" of Mr. Wright's May 8, 2007 communication that Bob Wright, Greg Thompson, Stacey O'Connell and Bill Irwin have been terminated for cause as volunteers and volunteer leaders within MCDC. This proposed meeting is not an MCDC sanctioned meeting and should you choose attend with the stated purpose and meeting agenda, you will be terminated by MCDC. Your written response, confirmed via facsimile sent to 281-242-9820, for MCDC Arizona Headquarters records, is required by 5 PM EST on 5/16/2007.Your response must include a statement of whether you have elected to withdraw from this proposed unsanctioned meeting and wish to continue with MCDC affiliation, or resign. If you fail to respond within this deadline to the above referenced fax number, MCDC will assume you have elected to resign all association and affiliation with Minuteman Civil Defense Corps.

The full text of all correspondence is available on the SPLC Web site. The SPLC article suggests that this discord means the MCDC is imploding. At the very least, it seems like a serious challenge to Simcox at a time when a proposed immigration reform bill in the U.S. Senate threatens the MCDC and all such anti-immigrant groups with extinction. God forbid that our elected leaders actually compromise and come up with a workable plan to address the issue. If that happens, where will anti-Mex moonhowlers like Simcox, Jim Gilchrist, Laine Lawless, Rusty Childress and all the rest go? Holy Hispanics, Batman, they might end up having to pull a J.T. Ready, and become unabashed white supremacists!

Actually, I wonder if someone as calculating as Simcox has already envisioned an end-game -- you know, an attempt to move into the mainstream (so to speak), and run for political office from some uber-troglodyte area of AZ. Of course, it didn't quite do the trick for David Duke in Louisiana (he never made it past the State House there), but the MCDC isn't exactly the Klan (at least they don't wear sheets or burn crosses). And Arizona is full of wing-nuts who'd vote for the guy, so who knows?

In any case, I called Simcox to ask him about the SPLC article, which he said he hadn't seen yet. He claimed only three people had been thrown out of the MCDC: Bob Wright, Greg Thompson, and Stacey O'Connell. Minuteman Bill Irwin? "On probation." None of the positions were salaried, according to Simcox. He dismissed the number of 14 firings given by the SPLC as being "way off, not accurate," and he insisted there would be no more terminations, that the situation had been "taken care of" at present.

Simcox pointed the finger at Wright, labeling Wright and his associates as "disgruntled," and accusing Wright of wanting to take over leadership of MCDC.

"He chose to attempt a palace coup," stated Simcox. "And he's summarily ashamed himself, embarrassed himself in the organization."

He also denied any financial impropriety on his part.

"We've dealt with that issue ad nauseam," asserted Simcox. "There's a complete 990 report[Informational Return for Not for Profit Organizations] on our Web site, along with a report from an independent audit. We did the same thing this year, we do the same thing every year. We're in complete compliance."

Not everyone seems to agree with that, including the SPLC's scribes, and the MCDC rebs, natch. There is some financial info. on MCDC's site, and as you can see, by its own admission, the MCDC pulls in a nice chunk of change per annum -- nearly half a mil. No wonder there's been an attempted "palace coup." The MCDC'll probably continue to rake in the dough, unless Congress finally imposes a solution that turns orgs like the MCDC into nativist anachronisms.

Gee, Captain Horne, you think we'll last till September?

Though the last thing the PHX metro area needs is less competition among its news entities, that might be what's coming this summer with the rumored demise of the small-but-scrappy Scottsdale Tribune, the Scottsdale edition of Mesa's East Valley Tribune. According to the proverbial grapevine, the Trib's new publisher Terry Horne has been making the rounds, telling employees that the fate of the paper hangs by a thread. Horne apparently quoted an ABC audit stating that household penetration for the Scottsdale Tribune is only 6% in Scottsdale, while it's 41% for the Trib's main competitor in the area, the Arizona Republic.

Rumors are the Scottsdale Tribune's editorial staff of 12 persons or so could face the firing squad or reassignment as early as this summer if the trend continues, as it's suspected it will. One scenario posited by media gossips is that for the few subscribers left in Scottsdale, the masthead might stay the same, with the content remaining identical to the East Valley Trib. Formerly the Scottsdale Progress, the paper's gone through several hands. Since 2000, it's been owned by Freedom Communications, Inc., which owns the Orange County Register, nine TV stations, and numerous smaller “community” newspapers. The East Valley Tribune and its Scottsdale sister have a combined circ of 92,100, according to Freedom's Web site.

Reached for comment, publisher Horne, once VP of community newspapers for the Republic, confirmed that he had been "meeting with employees and sharing with them where we stand on a number of areas." He also admitted that the ABC audit numbers were accurate, and that he had mentioned them to staffers, but he denied there were any plans to shutter the Tribune's Scottsdale office.

"I never told anybody it was gonna close," insisted Horne. "I never said that. That’s somebody coming to their own conclusions. There’s no decision to close the Scottsdale Tribune."

Yet, Horne, who chose his words carefully, stated that Scottsdale's "our weakest market," and in turn it's "where the Republic is strongest." He was quick to add that, "It doesn’t mean there aren’t things we can do." But what, exactly, will Horne do to keep the Scottsdale Tribune from flatlining?

"Certainly we want to serve the whole East Valley and serve the market as well as we can," stated Horne, who comes off as quite the smoothie via phone. "I’ve just been here such a short time, I don’t have a strategic plan as yet as to how we’re going to do that."

Why should we care if a small tidbit of a newspaper kisses the mat? Obviously, most Scottsdalians subscribe to the Republic, so there's no great loss, eh?

Wrong again, Caliban. Do you think the Republic's reporters will stay on their toes in that community if no one is out there scrambling for stories alongside them? The Scottsdale Trib is mean and lean, and they do break stories ahead of the Rep. If their numbers are way down, then the job of a good publisher is to undersell the enemy, and increase the, um, "penetration," a term bean-counter types use to refer to the number of subscribers and single-issue buyers in certain zip codes. A smaller, feistier pub can outplay an opposing paper. And that competition is a positive thing both for those purchasing ads, and for those perusing the product.

Maybe Horne gets that, or maybe he's blowing smoke up my ass. We'll have to wait and see. I'm just afraid that in situations like this, corporate entities don't care to invest the minimum time or effort needed. It'd be a helluva lot easier for the Trib to just close its Scottsdale paper and lay-off or reassign everyone. The Rep can't afford not to cover Scottsdale. But they won't do it as well with the Trib off their turf. Especially in the era of the Rep's shift from being a newspaper to a characterless "Information Center,” devoid of personality.

Don't cry, Stevie. You've at least got one good year left...

Can there be any doubt two-time MVP Steve Nash is the goat of the series pitting the Suns against arch-rival San Antonio? I know, I know. David Stern's an ass for penalizing Amare Stoudemire and Boris Diaw for getting off the bench in Game 4 after Robert "Hurt-a-Man" Horry hip-checked Nash into the scorer's table. Horry even bragged about it afterwards, scorning Nash's "acting ability." Yeah, Horry was penalized two games versus one apiece for Big Stat and Diaw, but Horry couldn't carry Amare's jockstrap, people. It was a cheap, premeditated trick, and it worked. Minus Stat, the Suns ran out of solar power towards end of Game 5. The gripe was that with all hands on deck, the Suns would've won on their home court. Still, heading into enemy territory, the expectation on my part was that they'd pull it out in Game 6, and bring it back home for Game 7.

Think again, Portnoy. Nash allowed the Spurs to set the pace in G6, a grueling back and forth that ended the first half with a two-point lead for San Antonio. By the end of the 3rd quarter, the Spurs had turned that into a 14-point gap, too large for the Suns to close in the fourth. The Spurs closed it out at 114-106, and that was with Stoudemire shooting 38 points! Sheesh. What the eff happened in the third quarter? Here it is, from the goat's own mouth in the post-game press conference.

"If you look at the third quarter, they made a great run there," Nash stated sullenly. "We kind of fell asleep mentally and they took advantage of it and that was the difference in the game."

Fell asleep? Choked is more like it. But the team captain wouldn't own his loss, despite having admitted his team's fuckup in the third quarter. Asked what he could do next year to get past San Antonio, something the Suns will inevitably have to do post-regular season, Nash bitched bitterly, "I think not having two players taken from us for a game would help."

Hey, as I stated in my Thursday post "NBA Commish David Stern: Jackass du jour," Coach D should've put potato-eater Pat Burke into Game 5 with explicit instructions to send Tim Duncan's ass into the third row. But D'Antoni's spending all his time readin' Gandhi, apparently. Barring that, once Game 5 was over, the Suns had the manpower to make it happen, but they didn't.

At least Stat was willing to man-up, and take responsibility, though his own performance was solid. Asked one of those "what if" questions in the post-game, Stat told reporters, "I don't think about it too much. It is what it is. You know, we got suspended for Game 5. It happened that way, but we had a chance to win it here in Game 6, and we didn't get it done."

Who sounds like the team captain to you -- Nash or Stat? Remember, Nash is the veteran here, not Stat. Yet, Nash is playin' the crybaby Canadian. Ever hear of "projection," bubbe? You know, in the Sigmund Freud sense of the word? Nash's mad at himself for failing to rally his team like a two-time MVP should. Similar criticism was leveled recently at Nash's butt-buddy Dirk Nowitzki of the Dallas Mavericks, who garnered this year's MVP even though the Mavs were ousted by Golden State. We expect more from an MVP. And though Nash hit some valuable three-pointers in the 4th quarter of G6, the damage was already done by the Suns' lousy third.

Everyone knows Nash's one of the best players in the NBA. I'm not trying to argue otherwise. But the guy makes a gazillion bucks a year, he's a leader, and more is expected of him. Sorry, Stevie. That's why you're the effin' goat.

Will someone pull the dirty ol' Sheriff away from Paris? For Christ's sake...

I can barely stand to watch CNN news-harpy Nancy Grace as the bizzatch almost always looks like she's about to bite the head off someone's baby. But as I was flippin' channels the other night, I saw Grace doing yet another hard-hitting piece on socialite/porn princess Paris Hilton's legal troubles.And there on the boob tube with her was Sheriff Bozo himself, Joe Arpaio, offering to take Hilton off the hands of the L.A.County Sheriff's Dept. so she could serve the full 45 days of her sentence on a probation violation, instead of the 20-something she'll do when her "good behavior" time is factored into the equation. Seems Arpaio wants to make the female side of his Tent City into a regular ShawSKANK Redemption.

Of course, this is yet another lame publicity stunt aimed at garnering pub for the loony lawman, like deputizing Spider-Man, which he did recently, or his retarded "Inmate Idle" competition, which some dumbass at our sister paper in L.A. wrote up as if it were a boon to mankind. It's all bread and circuses to get the alter kocker's mug on camera and make people forget about his abuses of power, the people who die in his custody, and the multi-million dollar awards that Maricopa County has to shell out whenever the MCSO loses a lawsuit. This Paris Hilton thing though is especially obvious and patently idiotic. Of course, Arpaio has absolutely NOTHING to do with this situation, which involves a violation of Paris' parole for drinking and driving in L.A. County. Joe deserves to be mocked just for floating the imbecilic idea. But instead he ends up nabbing beaucoup pub, with the stupid fucks in the Fourth Estate falling for it, like they seem to do almost every time.

Grace, for instance, took Arpaio completely seriously, and Arpaio stated he was just trying to "help another sheriff." But when he was interviewed by the PHX's Channel 3 News regarding his buffoonish "offer" of assistance to L.A., he was more straightforward as to his intentions.

"I'd love to have her in here," enthused Joe, practically salivating at the prospect. "It's just another celebrity. Not that I'm a publicity hound. But I imagine if I had her here in these tents, there'd be paparazzi here from all over the world seeing how she could survive it."

Sounds like Arpaio wants to spend a night in Paris himself, or at least have her serve on the chain gang in his back yard. (But hey, who wouldn't?)

As an aside, another annoying thing about the Grace show: the roll call they did of people killed by drunk drivers, with pics of the victims. Last time I checked, Hilton didn't kill anyone. She blew .08 when she was first popped back in 2006, and she violated her parole by driving with a suspended license this past February. Sorry, but .08 is nothing, no matter what the law states. New Times scribe Bruce Rushton pointed this out in his 2004 piece "How to drink and drive and get away with it," in which he cites "three academic studies" that have shown .08 drivers are "less dangerous than someone who talks on a cell phone while driving." So Grace's hysteria over drunk driving fatalities is as cynical as leading her show with Paris Hilton, or rolling out Nickel Bag Joe to reiterate his moronic pitch to make Paris his bitch.

Yo, Dave, what's that brown stuff on your lip? Ewww, never mind...

Can anyone doubt after last night's Suns-Spurs donnybrook dat we wuz robbed? Minus Amare Stoudemire and Boris Diaw, the mighty Suns dominated that game for 40-plus minutes, only running low on solar power towards the very end. As we're all aware, Big Stat and Diaw were out for Game 5 because they stepped away from the bench in defense of Suns point guard (and Spurs punching bag) Steve Nash. This, after scummy Robert Horry shoved the NBA poster-boy into the scorer's table in Game 4. Obviously, the penalty made all the difference in the world, forcing the Suns to run six men ragged trying keep up with a team that could afford to give its players some bench-time.

For this travesty, we can thank equine buttmunch David Stern, the NBA Commish, who defended the decision to ban Stat and Boris for a game during this hotly-contested semifinal showdown. The message? Nice guys finish last. Stern told ESPN radio's Dan Patrick that "these players took themselves out of the game" by leaving the bench to aid Nash. Meanwhile, hot-head Horry's practically bragging about his thuggery, laughing at Nash's "acting skill," while admitting to reporters that his "bump" of nice-guy Nash was premeditated. And Horry has the gall to wonder why he got the boot for two games? John Salley of Fox's Best Damn Sports Show Period once pointed out that Horry has "anger management" issues. Boy, he wasn't kiddin'. Where's Jack Nicholson in a Speedo when you need him?

The Spurs deserve an ass-whippin', and I hope they get it this Friday night. As far as all this skippin' around, playin' Boy Scouts stuff on the part of the Suns, that shit needs to change. Coach D needs to put in a big galoot like Pat "Irish Spring" Burke and have him "bump" Tim Duncan's ass into the third row. This is the playoffs, people, and our boys are headin' into enemy territory for Game 6. The Spurs are taking no prisoners. Are the Suns gonna be their punks, or what? Stoudemire's right, the Spurs are a dirty team, and the Suns need to play accordingly. Fuck David Stern. Don't get mad, get even and beat these shitkicker Spurs on their own turf. Otherwise, the PHX'll wind up with a pat on the head, a case of Kleenex and a one-way ticket to Planet Wuss.

A pic of Ashlea Deahl from her www.faceofms.org profile. Deahl suffers from the affliction.

Take a gander at Sarah Fenske's story this week on everyone's fave jailbird Joe Watson, aka, the Salon Bandit. Fenske nabbed a scoop on what a lot of folks suspected from jump -- that Watson's fiancee Ashlea Deahl dropped dime on Joe after recognizing the dope in surveillance footage knocking over a tanning salon. (Talk about cherchez la femme!) Fenske also got Deahl to sing via e-mail. Other than a couple of brief e-mails I got from her, Deahl had ignored my requests for comment. Well, up until today.

Seems Deahl's now editor of Phoenix Magazine, picking up where her long-time boss Robert Stieve left off. Deahl was managing editor under Stieve until he left the mag recently. Stieve's the editor over at Arizona Highways as of this Monday according to publisher Win Holden. I don't think I ever realized this, but Arizona Highways is a division of the Arizona Department of Transportation. So Stieve's now a state employee. (I'm sure his mom's very proud.) The two pubs compete on the newsstand, but not for advertising, according to Holden, as Arizona Highways has none. Holden says his mag has something like 200,000 subscribers, and Phoenix Magazine has around 60,000. How this impacts Stieve's salary is unclear. But no doubt the government benefits over at Arizona Highways are smashing.

Interestingly, Deahl herself had a hand in Joe's departure from New Times. As managing editor, she and her superiors allowed Watson to freelance stories for Phoenix Magazine under the pseudonym "Zachary Best." When Joe was confronted about the moonlighting by a fellow staffer, he denied it, then disappeared on deadline and never came back. You might say, in a way, Zachary Best killed off Joe Watson's New Times career.

The Watson-Deahl relationship had its ups and downs. They lived together on and off, so I don't know if they were living together at the time Watson left New Times. But Deahl certainly knew her then boyfriend was freelancing for her under an assumed name, while he maintained a full time staff writer gig with another local publication. Asked about it, Deahl had this to say in an e-mail to me:

It was Joe's decision to write under a pen name, and he did so with the knowledge and consent of myself AND the editor at the time. Joe pitched stories as any other writer would, and I assigned stories as any managing editor would, so yes, as an editor I facilitated his freelance work, but I did not give Joe work simply because I had a relationship with him.

Yeah, but would Deahl have "facilitated his freelance work" if Joe had not been her boo? I mean, does Phoenix Magazine normally let their scribes pen stuff under these circumstances? Deahl offered this as her "final comment on anything Joe related":

We don't consider New Times a competing pub simply due to different demographics, and while it's not common practice by any means, we have allowed a writer on the very rare occasion over several decades to write under a pen name as long as it does no harm to the reader, i.e., the writer's true identity doesn't introduce a bias to the story that the reader then isn't aware of due to a pseudonym.

Deahl put up with a lot of shit from Joe, or so I've heard second hand. And I'm sure it was rough having to turn the dood in. But the long-suffering jazz only works so much for me in light of the Zachary Best deception.

Is there an enduring lesson to the Joe drama? After all, as Fenske points out, his heists, though many, were penny-ante. And the only reason we in the press give a fuck is because we worked with the guy. Phil Spector, Joe ain't. If he hadn't worked for nearly every pub in the Valley, he would've gotten a few graphs in the Rep, a segment on the local news, and that'd be it. So what's it all about, Alfie? What's the big pic?

Well, I'd personally be skeptical of any dood pulling the bag-over-the-hand trick in the future. I mean, why wouldn't someone show you the gat? Doesn't make any sense. Other than that, the whole thing makes me wanna whistle the theme song from Baretta (ironic in light of Robert Blake's far more serious brush with the law). You know, "Don't do the crime, if you can't do the time, yeah. Don't do it!" Or there's that classic tune from Bobby Fuller (also covered by The Clash), 'cept Joe had no "six gun":

Breakin' rocks in the ... hot sun
I Fought the Law and the ... law won
I Fought the Law and the ... law won
I needed money, 'cause I ... had none
I Fought the Law and the ... law won
I Fought the Law and the ... law won

I left my baby and I feel so bad
I guess my race is run
Well, she's the best girl ... I've ever had
I Fought the Law and the ... law won
I Fought the Law and the ... law won

For related Joe Watson crap, check Joe Watson, the Salon Bandit? and The Joe Watson Foundation: WTF?

Goober works the room prior to making Chamber of Commerce chin-music.

Most mayors of great cities are not afraid of the press, even a hostile press. Indeed, as much as I despised Rudy Giuliani for various reasons when I was living in New York, I admired the way he'd regularly appear before crowds that wanted to rip him to shreds verbally. I'm not sure if Giuliani enjoyed performing this lion-tamer act, but he was certainly unflappable, no matter how harsh the questioning. The guy has a hide like a Gila monster, and though I was opposed to him politically, I had to respect the dood for facing the public the way he did, just as I respect him now for defying his own party on the issue of abortion -- something John McCain no longer has the stones to do, BTW.

So imagine how I felt as I watched Phil Gordon, the leader of the fifth largest city in America dodge me and hide behind his ancient mother so he didn't have to answer a couple of tough questions. OK, so maybe I call him Goober a lot in print, but still, if I were the mayor or any kind of pol for that matter, I'd love going toe-to-toe with a reporter. I certainly wouldn't fear it, like Goober apparently does.

Initially, I'd planned to show up at the PHX Chamber of Commerce's hoo-ha at the Convention Center today, sit through Goober's predictably Pollyannaish "State of the City" speech, and await the promised question and answer segment with the public to take place afterwards. Then, I'd ask Goober how he could in good conscience take over $7,000 from the execs at Red Development during the same period he and the city were negotiating with RD over their participation in the proposed Cityscape project to bulldoze Patriots Square Park and replace it with a development of condos, shops and restaurants. Red's receiving mega-millions in incentives and tax breaks, so for them to help finance the mayor's reelection bid, stinks worse than a stuffed PHX sewer in the summertime.

It's not like Phil needs the 7K. He's already raised a million bucks for his reelection bid. But I suspect returning scrilla to contributors who have business before the city would set a dangerous precedent. Big developers, law firms and real estate titans are the ones bankrolling Phil. Crikey, he might have to give it all back! The appearance of impropriety is but a small price to pay.

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You pay for the paper, and you write the paper! Why? Because the Rep blows, son.

One staple of late night comedians like Conan O'Brien, Jay Leno, Carson Daly, David Letterman, etc. is a "funny pics" bit where the host will run through a number of photos, offering up amusing one-liners about the snapshot in question. There are a zillion variations on this sort of bit, and they are often amusing. Why? Because each of these guys has a stable of very highly paid individuals called "writers" whose primary mission is to elicit laughs from an audience and presumably, also from you, the viewer at home. It's a very competitive biz, and if one of these exotic creatures fails to produce yuks through their stellar comedic abilities, they're eventually made to walk the plank and end up writing copy for cereal boxes, if they're lucky.

Tough racket. There's no school you can attend to learn how to write funny. Either you can do it or you can't. And most people in Phoenix can't, which is why they're in Phoenix to begin with, selling real estate, fluffing pillowcases at Bed Bath and Beyond, or working for the Arizona Repugnant -- you know, the prune-juice rag in town -- where in an attempt to be "edgy" and get with this whole Internet thing about a decade too late, they've adopted what they consider to be ground-breaking innovations, like the Repugnant's "You Write the Caption," segment, run on the Monday editorial page. That's right, the Rep's grizzled old fossils figure it's a hoot to let their blue-haired subscribers come up with captions for some pic of Snoop Dogg, Queen Elizabeth, or this week, John Edwards, whose high-priced follicles have by now been "done" so often by pundits and TV comics that the mere mention of his name elicits groans in most sentient beings, including many common family pets.

The clueless dullards at the Repugnant may not all be close to pulling Social Security checks, but even those without crow's feet and Depends undergarments act as if they possess and wear each, respectively. Which is probably why they solicit the aid of the public in this asinine class-participation project, because they themselves have all the originality of a bucket of baked beans. Unfortunately, the cretins who enjoy reading the Repugnant's sorry pabulum ain't much better on the funny tip. So their input is equally lame-o.

Take for example today's you-write-it on the subject of the aforementioned Edwards, who is pictured grabbing his chin with one hand. Ah, the wit flows like blackstrap molasses down a frozen weather vane. Two of the 13 chosen selections come from Sun City or thereabouts, which should tell you something. No doubt clippings of the article adorn all 13 refrigerators of the contributors so the denture-rattling hilarity can be relived daily in glorious newsprint.

Sun City denizen Chuck Hooker, whom I suspect plays a mean game of pinochle, offers this rib-tickler, "I sure hope no one figures out there is absolutely nothing under this hair!" While Mindy Jonas, the Wanda Sykes of Scottsdale, pens, "Dang it! I should have gone to Supercuts!" Payson wag Sheila Wilde writes, "I'll bet Bill O'Reilly thinks I'm a popinjay." (Scuttlebut is Sheila had to hold herself back from using the word "hum-dinger" in her entry.) And finally Casa Grande cutup Betty Emmons let fly this bit of verbal flatulence, "Is my chin a Jay Leno or a Kirk Douglas?" Remember, Douglas was one hunk o' man back in them Spartacus days.

There's a lot of kvetching and wringing of hands in the newspaper business as dailies lose subscribers to other media or to death via old age. For fishwraps like the Rep, there should be a warning label that states, "May cause hardening of the arteries." As I've said, it's not the physical age of those writing and editing that travesty of a paper. The Rep's scribes were born old. They should be working in banks or customer service, where they belong. Edgy? Like a jar of wooden spoons. They can't even fake it. Daily newspapers were not always this way. Rather, they've become this way over time. And the more they dumb it down, and offer up crap like this to paying customers, the harder I'll applaud when they're gone

What I wanna know is how long before someone attempts a dive off this puppy?

If the Denver Post, the Wall Street Journal, USA Today, and certain online testimonials are to be believed, the much ballyhood Grand Canyon Skywalk may be a colossal dud, an eyesore, or at the very least, a rip-off. I haven't been there yet, and to be honest, I have very little interest in going. In fact, I could give a Jerusalem fig for seeing the big hole in the ground at the scenic South Rim of the Grand Canyon, much less its cousin 250 miles west, where the Skywalk's located. Sorry, natural beauty's never been my thing. Unless, of course, we're talking about Kirsten Dunst.

Apparently, you have to cough up $75 to walk on the big glass horseshoe, folks are not allowed to have their cameras to snap pics, there are few facilities (water's trucked in, waste is trucked out, according to the USA Today story), and some people have had the mistaken impression that the Skywalk juts out over the South Rim, where most folks think of when envisioning the Grand Canyon.There's even a funny story (funny since it's not you) in the Denver Post about how this Brit dood travels to the Skywalk believing it's open till dusk, only to find out that members of the Hualapai tribe, which runs the tourist site, decided to close it up early that day because they were "tired." Photos of smoke coming out of the Limey's ears were not provided.

However, England's Guardian newspaper online has posted some photos of the view from the Skywalk, and let's just say they're a bit underwhelming. Judge for yourself. Like I say, this ain't my cup of Ovaltine to begin with.

Scottsdale PR maestro Jason Rose is out there pimping a story on the item, so I wouldn't be surprised to see this tale in some form in the local media eventually. For the most part, the PHX press got its kneepads out when this thing was unveiled back in March, which explains why all the negative ink has been out-of-town. On the other hand, there seem to be a lot of people who dig the experience, so more power to them. If anyone who's been wants to weigh in, by all means, please do. I'm not driving all that way to see what's in those Guardian pics, that's for sure.

So, like, frogs are hosers, eh? Shane Doan shows the Frenchies his stick.

If you think America's becomming too PC, take a look at doin's up in the Great White North, where makin' fun of frogs will get the Parliament on your ass. By frogs, I mean those cheese-eatin' surrender monkeys over in Francais, or anybody who speaks their friggin' frog language, like they do in parts of Canad'uh. Get this, MP for Toronto Jack Layton, leader of the New Democratic Party in Canada's House of Commons, recently denounced Canada's national hockey team for choosing NHL Phoenix Coyotes forward Shane Doan as captain. His offense? Allegedly spouting off to some French Canadian refs during a game vs. the Montreal Canadiens back in December of '05.

Doan, who was born in Halkirk, Alberta, just led Team Canada to a 6-3 win this Friday over Belarus during the world hockey championship in Moscow, with Doan scoring three of Canada's six goals. But maple-syrup-swilling numbnuts like Jack Layton think Doan's leadership "casts a shadow" over Team Canada. That's because Doan supposedly grumbled, "Fucking French did a good job," in reference to calls by frog referees during that Montreal-Coyotes game a year and a-half ago. He's since denied he said it. This, according to an article in Ontario's The Sudbury Star

Is this retarded or what? Sorry, let me say that in French for the Quebecois: C'est retardeeed, n'est pas? Last time I checked, hockey was the one sport more violent than Rage in the Cage. Christ, hockey fans ain't happy till there's blood on the ice. Plus everybody loves bashing the French (and by extension, Canadian frog-speakers). If Doan said what he claims he didn't say, what are they gonna do, beat him black-and-blue with their baguettes? Force-feed him bri