STATE OF THE CITY |
The Magic of Caring For the Poor
Executive Director Marcia Rose Walker disappeared in March, right after firing Chief Financial Officer Debra Santos. Two weeks ago, Mike Husted, an assistant director for the agency, vanished! Last week, George Cotton, director of human resources—poof! gone!—citing unhappiness about proceeding without the core of the administrative staff.
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If a Play Is Performed in Front of Six Embarrassed People and No One Applauds, Does It Make a Sound? ... Or Any Sense? ... Or Any Cents?
No. No. And yes—but barely enough to cover the cost of the intermission refreshments.
A recent Saturday matinee performance of the play Seascapes, produced by the Asylum Theatre Company and performed at the Winchester Cultural Center, drew a miniscule four-shy-of-a-dozen patrons—seven if you discount a Weekly staffer paid to be there, six if you took another head count after intermission.
S-I-X.
Or its alternative spelling: P-A-T-H-E-T-I-C.
How sad is it when a few hardy souls don't know whether to applaud as the curtain falls for intermission because silence is less awkward for the actors than the pitiful sound of very few hands clapping—a painful reminder of a disinterested public?
Memo to Asylum inmates: You see a Sardi's around here? A subway car teeming with exhausted, Right Guard-challenged straphangers? Pregnant women fined for publicly sitting on apple crates by a mayor so tight-assed he needs the Jaws of Life to take a dump?
In other words, this ain't Broadway. Hell, it ain't even Boise. Evening performances and Sunday matinees—a more traditional scheduling pattern—are hard enough to fill around here.
Saturday matinees? Who are you trying to impress? The deli counter at Vons gets bigger crowds.
BTBS: Beatrice Turner Broadcasting Service
Gadfly may be too nice a term to describe Beatrice Turner, who's been the bane of at least two mayors and multiple city planning commissioners during a years-long campaign of civic activism/terrorism. At City Hall last Wednesday, Turner kicked Mayor Oscar Goodman in the ethics over the Ipolitix nepotism controversy, then went to Nevada Partners to loudmouth Economic Opportunity Board officials over $2.1 million in unaccounted funds—the missing loot has cost the county-run anti-poverty agency millions in donations, prompted a federal investigation and imperiled certain programs. While Turner's heart is generally in the right place on issues—Goodman deserved the ass-chewing and EOB the scrutiny—her mouth must've come from somewhere south of Hell.
Outside of Nevada Partners, to George Cotton, who recently resigned from EOB's board:
"He's part of the problem. You ain't go no real men on the [EOB] board. He hears me."
Cotton walks away, trying to ignore her. A friend urges him to retreat.
Cotton: "I ain't scared of her."
Turner: "You better get a real man to talk to me. He's only half a man. I'll eat his ass up."
Turner, a few minutes later: "It was a good day for me. I was two for two. I just got finishing eating Oscar's ass up over this ethics and now I've told these fools at EOB off. Hallelujah."
Or something like that.
When Dairy Products Talk, or When Good Writers Lose Precious Gray Matter
From our freelance writer Stephanie Cook:
"I was standing in front of the refrigerator case at Trader Joe's on Decatur the other day looking for the Greek yogurt with honey that is on a par with the greatest $9 fine-dining dessert in town when the yogurt cups started moving around and talking to each other. One said he'd been married for 29 years and another said he had some more running around to do, there were just too many temptations out there for him to settle down yet. The married one said, "I hear you."
I really, really wanted to say, "I hear you, too," but I bit my tongue, loaded my cart and walked on."
(We're hoping there were employees back there re-stocking the shelves ... If not, Stephanie, this is your salad talking: Seek help!)
Las Vegas is Tolerant! (When it Comes to Alcohol)
So we lag behind in education, graduation rates, social services and generally fail when it comes to any kind of desirable rating. All of which we could forget more easily (chug chug chug) should we become the destination location of the Beer Hall of Fame. The Beer Hall of Fame founders are scouting out a permanent host city with adequate parking, hotel accommodations and appropriate tax base and incentives. Add to that the amber waves of beer that flow through our streets, and it seems we're a natural (or would that be Natural Light?). Show some hometown pride. Vote at www.beerhalloffame.com before those thirsty Midwesterners rassle the opportunity away from us.
Hunting for Homeless
On the heels of Easter, after the eggs have all been hunted, we've turned to a different search target: the homeless. A brigade of 250 homeless hunters—many of whom are volunteers from UNLV's sociology department—hit the streets Tuesday night, starting at 11 p.m., canvassing underpasses, washes, bridges, alleys, curbs and under rocks, to count the least fortunate as they sleep. Five years ago, the search netted 6,707 people. This year will no doubt result in more, possibly bringing in more federal funding. There's no telling how they'll avoid counting the same people more than once. Ear-tagging? Tattooing? Paintgun blasts, Hunting for Bambi style? All of the above will make it easier for the city to spot and bulldoze homeless communities as they arise. After they've accepted and spent the federal funding, of course.