We cherish those increasingly frequent moments when life imitates journalism—when the proliferation of dorky narratives and cheap ironies saves hours of sweat-time at the keyboard. So, while most civilians would be appalled to learn that one Danny O'Neill pulled his young son and nephew from school last week to see Star Wars multiple times, on the pretext that they might learn something from the lumbering Darth Vader biopic ("Star Wars is very symbolic in that it ties into a sense of good and evil," he told the R-J), well, we journalists are just happy we don't have to share a byline with folks like that. Because they're doing most of the work.
Everywhere you look, in fact, stories are writing themselves: A long time ago (last week), in a galaxy far, far away (Henderson), there was a municipal judge candidate—and by "municipal judge candidate" we mean "former stripper"—whose story made the papers. "It's nothing I've ever denied," Diana Hampton said. "It has nothing to do with my ability to be a municipal court judge, but it makes for a good [newspaper] story." It would've made for a better one had her opponent, Michael Miller, played his part with appropriate gusto, declaring the whole affair very symbolic in that it ties into a sense of good and evil. "I'm certainly not going to make her past employment part of my campaign," he told the R-J instead. What? Stick to the issues rather than go big with a possible scandal involving partial nudity? Michael Miller, you've got a lot to learn about journalism.
Such as this: Journalism is a force to be reckoned with. Note how it used widespread bad reviews to keep Star Wars' opening box office down to $150 million. But the media doesn't only pick on people its own size; it'll bend down to screw with nobodies, too. "It's been hell," Las Vegan Brian Rossiter yelled through his closed door last week at reporters trying to suss out his role in Wendy's-Chili-Finger-Gate. (He—allegedly!—provided the finger.) The spotlight got so bad that he reportedly hid in a bar, inviting patrons to "shake the most famous hand in America." There's hell and then there's hell.
Which brings us to R-J columnist Jane Ann Morrison's Monday piece about the TV show 24. Trapped in a big, scary world, Morrison finds herself cheering as Kiefer Sutherland's character leaves skid marks on the Bill of Rights, roughing up perps as he races to stop a nuclear missile from hitting a U.S. city: "The Jack Bauer character makes me feel safer in an unsafe world," she admitted. For most of us, how we feel about Bauer's cowboy justice depends on a simple, deeply moral question: which city? For Morrison, it's an occasion to navigate the murky waters between symbolic good (Bauer's saving America!) and real evil (she despises torture). Alas, those waters are self-murked—most folks realized long ago that pop culture reflects our id back at us, rarely our values, and adjusted their expectations accordingly. Then again, most people aren't journalists with three holes a week to fill.
Wait, this just in! Someone calling himself the Prophet Yahweh has issued a press release saying he'll begin summoning UFOs to Vegas on June 1, for reasons his publicist didn't mention. To make us feel safer in an unsafe world? Who cares? Finally, some real news!
The Week in Math |
-1 Ethics "truth squad" will no longer monitor election claims. Imagine: Bob Beers unleashed! That's govertainment!
+1 New anti-pimp law eases prosecution requirements. Apparently, some panderers need more regulation than others (see above).
+1 Multiple high-rise lawsuits and construction overruns "aren't death knell of Las Vegas," real-estate expert says. Whew! We can unpack now.
+3 R-J poll shows strong support for property tax cap and more education spending. Op-ed staff treated for whiplash.
Final Score
+4
Oscar Goodman Quote We Couldn't Fit Anywhere Else |
"These are going to be great pictures ... I do have an artistic eye, don't I?"
Thursdays with Oscar |
We attend the mayor's weekly press conference so you don't have to
May 19
Main Themes: I love being mayor (1); being mayor is great (2); has there ever been a cooler mayor? (3); I can say/do what I want—I'm the mayor! (4)
Summary: Calling the previous week his best as mayor—"It doesn't get better" (1)—Goodman got positively giddy about the Helldorado Parade ("best ever") (2), the opening of a postcard exhibit Downtown ("best party I've ever been to") (2) and a gathering he attended in Washington, D.C. ("the party to end all parties") (2). By way of jabbing casinos for not kicking in to the Centennial kitty, he praised City Hall for funding the thing without taxpayer dollars, then indicated his willingness to fund next year's Helldorado Parade with taxpayer dollars (4) (as an investment in community-building, of course). He brushed off criticism by conservative gadfly Richard Ziser, who's called for Goodman to resign after manning the camera on a Playboy photo shoot (3, 4). He got tough on the homeless ("I'd hate to see happen on the 61 acres what happened at Frank Wright Park") (4) and dropped some art jargon (comparing his role as Playboy snapper to Michelangelo). (3) No doubt he thinks of the 61 acres as his Sistine Chapel.
Odd note: Goodman mocked Ziser by intentionally and repeatedly mispronouncing his name with a long E instead of a long I, "Zeeser" instead of "Zi-ser." Funny, in a mayoral kind of way.
Scott Dickensheets is a Weekly writer at large. Give him crap at
[email protected].