STATE OF THE CITY |
It's a measure of how much the issue of Yucca Mountain has slipped from our radar that Martin Sheen was in town last weekend and didn't bother to shackle himself to the future dump site. Roy Horn. The 311 Boyz. G-Sting. The last legislative session. With those stories in the foreground, perhaps it's no surprise that we've shuffled boring old Yucca Mountain to our current-events attic. It seems like something that happened a long time ago, in a news cycle far, far away. But recent weeks have seen interesting twists in the after-story of President Bush's approval of the site as the nation's high-level nuke repository: • Bipartisan support to withhold from the Energy Department the power to classify nuclear waste as high or low level—that power would mean it hauls more nuclear truffles; • Sen. Harry Reid maneuvering a Nevada-friendly guy onto the independent Nuclear Regulatory Commission; • Michael Corradini, chairman of the independent Nuclear Waste Technical Review Board declaring nuclear waste "can be stored safely at Yucca Mountain;" • Esmeralda, Lincoln and Nye counties and the city of Caliente considering formation of a regional agency to study transportation routes; • Joshua Abbey, creator of the "Universal Warning Sign: Yucca Mountain"—an image of a human skull with a radiation warning symbol carved through the hollow cranium—showcasing the art for a month at UCLA; • Reid, earlier this year, gutting $166 million from the Yucca budget. Boring. Decidedly unsexy. Certainly lacking in high comedy, cheap drama and bloodletting. But, if we can peel our eyes from the monster-truck rally of current events, they're developments worth monitoring. Because Yucca Mountain is still out there. |
Guns For All Gods, or Lessons in Religion and PR From a Gun-Totin' Entrepreneur
He's not a Scientologist, OK? Ignatius "Naish" Piazza, founder of Front Sight Resort, the gun farm/resort/weapons training ground near Pahrump, has comped a local Mormon group $3.6 million in "Family Safe Forever" personal defense classes—and promptly fired off press announcements. What better way to prove he's not in bed with another religious group, like, say, the Scientologists?
Last year about this time, Piazza was busy fielding inquiries like this one—from a pro-gun University of Colorado at Boulder philosophy grad student Diana Mertz Hsieh, posted online (www.dianahsieh.com/scientology):
"Naish ... I ask: Is your association with the Church of Scientology so important to you that you are willing to risk Front Sight's financial future for it?
Second, your association with Scientology may well pose a grave danger to the gun rights movement as a whole. As you succeed in "changing hearts and minds" about guns, the anti-gun lobby and media will look for any convenient smear tactic to advance their cause. Your association with Scientology would be the perfect fodder for such folks. The damage that could be done by a 60 Minutes report exposing the 'disturbing connection between the dangerous cult of Scientology and owner of a massive firearms training facility in the desert of Nevada' is unfathomable. Gun enthusiasts would no longer be thought of as uneducated, paranoid rednecks, but rather brainwashed cult members. The cause of gun rights could be seriously damaged."
Piazza completely denies that Front Sight is fronting for Scientology and says, in fact, that he's a Catholic. "Bottom line is freedom of religion is freedom of religion ... And there is absolutely no connection (between Front Sight and Scientology) ... That's all behind us," he said. Front Sight sued Hsieh for her allegations. She told the Weekly, "I would love to talk to you, but as Front Sight's lawsuit against me is ongoing, I fear that such would not be wise."
Now, 6,000 local Mormons will get a two-day personal defense training session because, says Piazza in the news release, the courses complement "the ongoing efforts of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints to improve the quality of life in the Las Vegas area."
Department of Odd Timing
Local rock group the Displaced has a new CD out, Tango with The Man. In a chilling bit of irony, the second verse of the group's first track, "The Lights in the Driveway," is: Just like a tigress / You carry me on / By the nape of my neck / And tear the flesh to the bone."
Today's Lesson in How Not To Sell the Concept of a Mental Hospital to Nearby Residents
"(We've had) hardly any escapes, hardly any folks roaming the neighborhoods."
— Dr. Carlos Brandenburg, administrator for the state Division of Mental Health and Developmental Services, defending a plan to add a psychiatric hospital to a cluster of mental-health facilities near Oakey and Jones.
We Couldn't Think of a Clever Culture Club Reference to Headline This Boy George Item. We Apologize for Any Inconvenience.
Thousands (Hundreds? OK, maybe dozens) of Boy George fans were left Saturday wondering why their idol really did seem to want to hurt them. Scheduled for a DJ set at Ice, the '80s gender-blender pop sensation suddenly announced he wouldn't be the culture part of the club. The reason? Rosie O'Donnell has him chained to a desk on Broadway working on Taboo, Boy George's very own musical that's being mounted with $10 million of Rosie's very own cash. You can't blame Mama for keeping her Boy on a short leash—at least until the first reviews come out.
Leather + Face = Freak Show Entertainment
Leatherface, that mask-wearing star of Texas Chainsaw Massacre, has a band. And he (Andrew Bryniarski) is touring the country, playing a monster mash of classic rock—any songs having to do with haunting and Halloween—for the Musical Freak Show tour, which hits Vegas this Saturday, at the Hysteria City Haunted Attraction. It's brought to us thanks to Gary Sax, president of Sax Entertainment and founding father of the Moo Beams—that troupe of four adult men who dress as cows and sing moo wop. When asked whether the Moo Beams will make a guest appearance for the Musical Freak Show, combining Leatherface with potential leather, Sax laughs. "I wasn't planning on it, but you never know," he says. "We'd have PETA against us big time."
Check out the Musical Freak Show 8 p.m. Saturday, Oct. 25 at the Silver Nugget Casino, 2140 Las Vegas Blvd. Tickets are $18 and include entry to the haunted attraction. Call 870-7293 for advance tickets.