Blogs

By Ray Stern

Gerald Richard, Democratic candidate for Maricopa County Attorney (pictured), today released a list of people endorsing him that included Paul Charlton, former U.S. Attorney in Arizona.

Charlton was famously fired by the Bush Administration in 2006 along with several other top federal prosecutors in what appeared a purely political move. He's now a partner at the Phoenix law firm Gallagher & Kennedy.

A Republican, Charlton's the only real surprise on this list of mostly Democrats, unions and immigrant-rights advocates.

Except for Mary Jo West, that is. But her name is only surprising because of its incredible irrelevence. Since when did a "former newscaster" have endorsement credibility with potential voters?

Here are the highlights of Richard's press release:

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By Jonathan McNamara

What is the most over-the-top form of entertainment? This weekend, two forms of joyous audio/visual overload locked together in battle to find out.

U.S. Air Guitar Championship (Phoenix)

A gang of invisible guitar strumming maniacs hit The Brickhouse Theater in downtown Phoenix this weekend proving that you instrument doesn't have to be real for you to rock out.

It was the first time the competition has reared its sweat-soaked head in the Valley. It was a good thing they did for local "guitarist" Hardcore Henry. Thanks to his hot performance on Saturday night, he's packing his air guitar (talk about traveling light) and heading off to San Francisco for the U.S. championship.

Heaven and Hell Backyard Wrestling Presents: Red, White and Pain

It was when wrestler M18 was suplexed through a sheet of plywood that we stopped worrying about the wrestlers and simply enjoyed the violence.

Heaven and Hell Backyard Wrestling gathered a crowd of more than a hundred people to witness the pain as wrestlers Havoc, DOA, Sgt. Stomp, The voice and others jabbed, threw and kicked their opponents to the ring floor.

It wasn't all pain and suffering however as the fourth match of the night was between to bikini-clad warriors destined to rumble in a pool of apple sauce. Sweet!

By Ray Stern

Blogs are buzzing about the Bush Administration's faux pax in hiring scandal-plagued former NAU president Owen Cargol as the first chancellor of the American University in Iraq.

According to this article on www.insidehighered.com, nobody appears to have performed a Google search on Cargol when he was hired last year as chancellor for the Iraqi university.

Cargol's past is seriously stained. He resigned from his job in 2001 after the married father of two was accused of sexually harassing a fellow employee.

A June 5 Web posting on the blog site www.progressivehistorians.com was apparently the first to link the university's news chancellor to his sordid past.

Besides the accusation that Cargol had grabbed the employee's genitals, even more damning was an e-mail later made public that had been sent by Cargol to the employee. It read, in part: "For sure, I am a rub-your-belly, grab-your-balls, give-you-a-hug, slap-your-back, pull-your-dick, squeeze-your-hand, cheek-your-face, and pat-your-thigh kind of guy."

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It's been nearly a year since New Times columnist Sarah Fenske reported on the brouhaha over the Men's Grill at our own Phoenix Country Club. (Her recent update's here. And here.) That other paper, the New York Times, has finally taken note of the controversy.

By Jonathan McNamara

Friday: Gunnin' for that #1 Spot
Director Adam Yauch's documentary about NYC's Rucker Park hits theaters this weekend. See local b-ball hero Jerryd Bayless and seven other players looking for a shot at the NBA go head-to-head in a dramatic basketball showdown.

For more information, read "Baseline Killers" by Jay Bennett.

Saturday: Heaven and Hell Backyard Wrestling Presents Red, White and Pain

Assuming you're not already headed off to the Can't Stop the Serenity showings at Chandler Cinemas, you may want to take in some backyard wrestling. Nothing says summer fun like an old-fashioned beat down. Be sure to bring your own chair. You never know when you might need to clock someone.

For more information, read "Rabid Test" by Benjamin Leatherman.

Sunday: Asses of Evil at Cell Block Venue

Celebrate the lord's day with a gutter punk throw down courtesy of local thrash-masters Asses of Evil. Don't forget to be careful when you're attaching the safety pins to your ripped up jacket. Yipe!

For more information, read "Hard, Fast, Raw and Obnoxious..." by Niki D'Andrea

By Jonathan McNamara

June, named after the Roman Goddess Juno, has once again retreated into the ether leaving us to revel in a month's worth of stories and slide shows.

Click for the month in photos

Can’t Stop the Serenity: 3 and 7:30 p.m. Saturday, June 28, at Chandler Cinemas; Can't Stop the Serenity.

By Clay McNear

The TV series Buffy the Vampire Slayer ran for seven seasons and totaled 144 episodes. I double-sourced and tripled-checked, ’cause we’re dealing with the Buffyverse, a subset of the Whedonverse, hallowed home to Joss Whedon fanatics, who have lives outside of their obsession, but not really. I know a Buffy freak who can rattle off the names of the episodes and their numbers.

I said, “Yeah, right. Season five, episode 21.”

“The Weight of the World. The one where Buffy’s in a coma.”

Gak.

Okay, they’re zealots, but they’re pretty benign as zealots go. Just don’t try to argue doctrine or semantics with ’em. They’ll get in your grill. It can get ugly.

And that’s just the Buffy crowd. The real space cases reside in the region of the Whedonverse where Firefly burns bright six years after it was canceled. Firefly is a type of fictional space freighter and the title of the TV show on which it’s based. Joss Whedon’s galactic oater managed just 14 episodes, of which only 11 aired. It was Whedon’s third TV series (the Buffy spinoff Angel was second), and by far his least successful. After it was butchered by Fox (the network ran the episodes out of sequence) and unceremoniously axed, it looked like the end of the line for the folksy quasi-outlaws of Serenity, the crew’s Firefly-class ship (and thus the name of the show).

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Robert DeNiro and Joe Pesci in Casino. Where's Mr. Glick (um) Green?

By Sarah Fenske

Bet you never thought you'd read this coming from a New Times reporter, but today's Republic had a great scoop. Reporter Yvonne Wingett revealed that Sheriff Joe Arpaio began investigating the Arizona Department of Racing at the prodding of a campaign contributor.

But what the Republic didn't tell you is just how shady that campaign contributor is.

Jeremy "Jerry" Simms, whose family owns Turf Paradise, is indeed a big Arpaio donor; public records show he's also given money to County Attorney Andrew Thomas.

But Sims is exactly the kind of guy that law enforcement shouldn't be getting in bed with.

As we reported a few years ago, back in California, Simms admitted to bribing a coastal commissioner and "lent large sums of money" to a "mob frontman" named Alan Glick. (Glick, it should be noted, was the inspiration for Mr. Green, played by Kevin Pollak, in Martin Scorsese's Casino.) And, in Arizona, Simms appears to have spent some time cultivating Burton Kruglick, the ancient Republican who chaired the state's Racing Commission. You have to wonder what that was all about.

The director of the Department of Racing, Geoffrey Gonsher, has a reputation as a straight arrow. It was his staff that put together the report critical of Kruglick's relationship with the racetrack owner.

Any legitimate law enforcement agency would take one look at Simms' history and go running (fast!) in the other direction. But is anyone surprised that Sheriff Arpaio decided instead to strip off his clothes and jump eagerly into Simms' bed?

We're speaking metaphorically, of course. But isn't that bad enough?

By Paul Rubin

We were sad to learn about the death a few days ago of Bob Eger, a veteran local sportswriter and author who was known to everyone he worked with and wrote about as a consummate professional and genuine nice guy.

Egs, as his pals called him, covered ASU sports forever, it seemed--actually, he toiled at the Republic for 30 years after a stint with the Associated Press, and his love of baseball (and of his beloved Sun Devils) was undiminished until a heart attack took him at the age of 66.

After leaving the Republic a few years ago, Eger concentrated on writing books about ASU sports and sitting beside the excellent play-by-play man Tim Healey as radio color commentator for the Sun Devils' baseball team.

We had many opportunities to chat with Egs over the years on our occasional forays into his neck of the woods. Our year-long look at Jim Brock in 1994 as the tough old coach battled back from a terrible illness only to succumb to it at the end of a memorable season was once such instance. Then, in 2006, we spent a great deal of time with current coach Pat Murphy for an extended profile. In both instances, Egs was more than helpful.

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By Ray Stern

Guess what came to Mesa today?

No, it's not Sheriff Arpaio's Mexican supression operation--that's scheduled on Thursday.

The East Valley Tribune rolled out its new and improved look, plowing deep in tabloid territory and essentially ending--by design, anyway--a traditional-style newspaper that has published in Mesa for more than 100 years.

It's not all tabloid; the sports, Nation/World and classified sections that come tucked inside the tabloid wrap are still (somewhat incongruently) in broadsheet format. But, from now on, the paper's main look is, well, distinctly more New Times than New York Times.

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By Clay McNear

I solemnly swear not to mention Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story during the writing of this piece.

Starting . . . now.

When describing an adult-dodgeball affair, it’s de rigueur to reference the 2004 flick. I mean, come on. But if AZ Dodgeball founder Sam Pewitt wants to play coy (the Vince Vaughn/Ben Stiller smash isn’t noted once on AZ Dodgeball), we’ll play along.

Pewitt told New Times he formed the league because d-ball wasn’t officially represented here in Arizona, but was popular in his home state of Washington. He garnered a lot of press during the inaugural season of 2006, ’cause his tale had a couple of irresistible hooks: 1) competition is held in the gym at Phoenix’s Army National Guard Armory; and 2) adult-dodgeball fever was then sweeping the nation in light of the still-recent release of The Movie Whose Name Shall Not Be Mentioned.

Well, the first blush of romance has long faded–the press’s with the novelty of grownups pelting each other with large crimson spheres, the moviegoing public’s with a four-year-old movie – but Pewitt’s league thrives. Go figure.

A new season starts at 6:30 p.m. Thursday, June 26, at the Armory, 1335 North 52nd Street, and continues on Thursdays and Tuesdays for 11 weeks. That’s a long haul and a lot of whizzing red balls, but bet the mortgage on last season’s champs to repeat. Why? The Wild Turkeys–the East Germans of AZ Dodgeball – compiled a 10-0 record and stomped the snot out their closest competitors in total points.

So, class, what kind of story will it be if some other team trounces the Turkeys? You know -- the slingshot and the giant? The defenders of the Alamo? The cartoon dog with the cape? Anyone?

Okay, well, you’re on your own. I’ve taken an oath.

By Ray Stern

She's big, she's beautiful and--according to Arizona Attorney General Terry Goddard--she's naughty, too.

Goddard is accusing Nicole Galbraith, 24, of ripping off the clients of her East Valley bail bond company.

Galbraith, a young entrepreneur from Mesa, is the owner of Quick Bail Bonds. While inmates rotted in jail, Galbraith took thousands of dollars in bail money from their friends and family and spent it on personal items, Goddard's office says. She's being charged with numerous counts of fraud and theft, and faces up to 93 years in prison.

The state yanked Galbraith's bail bond agent's license in March, and whether this Gilbert tease can fall back on her budding modeling career--well, you be the judge. Galbraith maintains a post and pictures on a modeling Web site, in which she announces her dreams to make a name for herself as a plus-size model.

"I want to help open the door to the world of the big but beautiful women of the world," she writes.

If Goddard is right, Galbraith should have been more worried about opening the jailhouse doors for inmates whose families had paid bail.

By Clay McNear

We were pleasantly confounded recently when KTAR’s sports-radio kingpin John Gambadoro stood up to be counted in favor of football–the other kind. Of course, this was during a 10-minute tirade against English cricket, so it was probably relative, but still–soccer! Even Gambo’s partner, Mark Asher, was taken aback, blubbering something along the lines of, “Now, Gambo, here’s da ting . . .”

You can count us in favor of fútbol, too, though there would have to be about 20 million more of us for pro soccer to mean jack-squat here in Fortress America, the only place in the world, seemingly, that doesn’t understand the thrill of World Cup or the exhilaration of being stomped by a dude in steel-toed boots during a brawl.

Anyhoo, Gambadoro, after weighing his enthusiastic endorsement for a bit, wound up ratcheting things down to lukewarm after concluding that, all things being equal, he’s rather do a number of other things with his life than watch dudes in knee-high socks make 12 shots on goal in 60 minutes.

And he’s right, of course. Professional soccer has absolutely no future here. It’s a game of stealth and strategy, a contest to see which team can choke the life out of the other most slowly. That’s why it’s always failed here and why it always will. Still, that hasn’t kept a lot of desperate, delusional people from trying, as they will once more during the match between the New York Red Bulls and Mexican superteam Chivas at 8 p.m. Wednesday, June 25, at University of Phoenix Stadium, 1 Cardinals Drive in Glendale.

Here’s da ting: Why not down a few ADD poppers and give it a shot? Whaddaya got to lose other than 60 minutes of your life featuring 12 shots on goal?

Tickets range from $25 to $55, available by ringing 480-784-4444 or visiting "http://www.ticketmaster.com”>Ticketmaster. For additional info, call 623-433-7100 or see "http://www.universityofphoenixstadium.com”>University of Phoenix Stadium.

By Clay McNear

I (gulp!) teeter on the brink of being a High School Musical fan.

After enduring marathons of dreck like The Wiggles and the creepy Booba as the operating cost of being a dad, HSM seems like West Side Story, only, you know, not as good. The flick is bubbly and precocious, and even a little subversive in its way, sneaking a couple of life lessons past our youth’s finely tuned anti-message filter.

Musical’s subversive poster child is dog-faced beauty Ashley Tisdale, who’s blonde but not dumb. Tisdale’s theatrical portrayal of a stuck-up bitch is smart and spot-on, though her idiosyncrasies are predictably damped down in the leaden sequel, High School Musical 2. (Yep, I caught that one, as well. Do I get any credit for not having a choice?)

Here’s Disney’s core flaw: The studio may be the 800-pound gorilla of franchising, but unless the word “Pixar” is in the credits, it’s the 98-pound weakling of follow-through. HSM is the rule that proves there’s no exception. Originally a left-field hit on the Disney Channel, Musical now rivals Hannah Montana for sheer money-printing power. Since it’s impossible for Disney to screw up commodification on this scale, it mucks up everything that made the thing a commodity in the first place.

Doh!

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By Ray Stern

Gun-loving Arizona has had a robust concealed weapon program since 1994, and about 85,000 people have received permits that allow them to take hidden handguns with them just about everywhere they go. You'd think that number would be higher, given that some statistics show as many as three-quarters of Arizona households contain firearms.

Getting a permit isn't very hard, but it is inconvenient and somewhat costly. You have to spend at least eight hours of your free time in a training class, get fingerprinted in a time-consuming process at a local police station, and pay at least $160 ($60 for the permit, which lasts five years, and another $100 or more for the training).

Unless you work for the Maricopa County Attorney's Office, that is--in which case the public funds both your time and expense for the permit.

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