Love 'Im or Hate 'Im: Sheriff Joe Arpaio

Honestly? Sheriff Joe Arpaio is the reason I'm still self-publishing comics, because inner conflict is the most poignant conflict of all.

I should preface this article with the following disclaimer: I'm not a law student. I know next to nothing about criminology. The following observations and opinions are from a purely layman's perspective, from a guy that pays attention to current events via "infotainment."

That said, I can safely say, Sheriff Joe is paradoxically the most hated official that everybody keeps voting for. Most recently, the Department of Justice has joined in Arpaio's perpetually vocal detractors, yet, the guy is still in office -- and is planning to run again this year. As a loud-mouthed, polarizing galvanizer, and as such the epitome of what makes the news my guilty pleasure.

But, in comic book terms, is he a good guy or a bad guy? During my brief media blitz last summer, that was the most commonly asked question, and I wonder if reporters expected to hear "bad guy" from an artist like me, since artists are often perceived as liberal-types. Actually, my answer was rather political, if I do say so myself: I explained Arpaio was neither hero or villain, but rather a catalyst for the actions that made the other characters heroes or villains. Yeah? Yeah? See what I did there?

Actually, I do have an opinion of Arpaio. It's the same opinion I had of Tommy Lee Jones' portrayal of Deputy Gerard in The Fugitive. Remember that scene in the sewer tube, before Harrison Ford/Dr. Kimble jumps into the waterfall? He shouts to Gerard, "I didn't kill my wife!"

Gerard answers, "I don't care!" That's Sheriff Joe Arpaio.

For years now, those supporting the immigrants Arpaio has fought to deport have shouted at the system, "They're good workers! They have families to support!" Sheriff Joe has stood against the current, as Gerard did in that tube, and replied, "I don't care." It's that simple.

"Caring" isn't Arpaio's job. Law enforcement is. Of course, a degree of compassion toward one's fellow man is a part of law enforcement, but the how is a separate argument from the what, and I think many of Arpaio's detractors blame him for their disagreements with the law. That's like blaming a plumber for why the sewer stinks. The Sheriff is just a regulator; you can blame him when things don't run smoothly, but he didn't invent the way things run.

Guys like Russell Pearce do that. But I digress.

So, no, Sheriff Joe isn't a hero or a villain; he's just a guy enforcing the law, which isn't a black-and-white kind of job. Sometimes, it's a whatever-it-takes kind of job -- which is how I see Commissioner Gordon. Jim Gordon is a good cop -- but he also endorses the activities of vigilantes. That's a whatever-it-takes attitude.

The premise of Amazing Arizona Comics is that Sheriff Joe secretly does the same thing. In fact, his recruiting a "secret superhero deputized posse" is a great way to explain some of the more outrageous events in and around Phoenix, because it often really is the stuff of good superhero comics. But, most importantly, the ambiguity of a superhero's existence in general is a poignant allegory to Arpaio's "love him or hate him" impression.

Because, frankly, if you hate crime, you should hate vigilante superheroes, too. Yet, crime in its most extreme incarnation seems to require superheroes to fight it, so they're accepted as the much lesser of two evils. Maybe that's why Sheriff Joe is paradoxically the most hated official that everybody keeps voting for.

Remember when I said inner conflict is the most poignant conflict of all? Yeah, I wasn't talking about Arpaio's. Sheriff Joe doesn't care about that, remember? That conflict is ours. We need him, and we hate it.

One Year Later

Yesterday honored the one year anniversary of the Tucson tragedy, and while thousands of citizens in Arizona gathered to respect the survivors, I silently acknowledged the day I became truly proud to live in the Grand Canyon State.

I'll rewind a bit: I moved to Arizona from California in 2009, and in so doing, I realized my twelve-year stint in the Golden State instilled me with a very California-centric mentality. I wasn't Anthony Kiedis or anything, but I definitely thought many of the country's, if not the world's, most critical developments revolved around California. After all, the mantra of American Idol is, "I'm going to Hollywood!" -- as if such a sojourn is the end all, be all of sojourns. In short, a part of me genuinely thought moving to Arizona made me less important in the grand scheme, because I wouldn't be living in California anymore.

Then, in January 2010, something crazy happened. Many of the country's, if not the world's, most critical developments revolved around Arizona. The SB 1070 debate at the forefront, with the caricatures of Sheriff Joe Arpaio and Governor Jan Brewer in tow, Arizona was the leading topic for news stations' talking head shows and late night comedy monologues. I loved it, but still a bit out of my familiar element, I didn't know how to process it --

-- so I made a comic book. Amazing Arizona Comics became a mini-comic turned epic concept: What if superheroes lived in Arizona, too? How would they react and interact to these already fantastic stories? So, one part political cartoon, one part superhero story, I steadily self-published the first three issues before the end of 2010, trying my best to keep up with the headlines. Sometimes, the news cycle was gracious. Other times, not so much.

Indeed, the biggest challenge so far has just been keeping up. If I see a fun catalyst for a story in the news, my imagination will translate it into a superhero adventure, and I'll want to draw it and distribute it immediately. Unfortunately, I'm just one man! For instance, I'm finally finishing the sixth issue, which guest stars Prince Harry -- yet his Arizona visit was news almost two months ago! Hey, a guy's gotta work, right?! That, and maintaining a great relationship with my future wife, consumes a lot of time; in other words, life happens, but fortunately that's what ultimately fuels the inspiration for this comic, so I can't complain.

And that's what leads me back to the anniversary of the Tucson tragedy. If you don't really know what happened on January 8, 2011, Google it; mine isn't the forum for recap -- nor will I mention the shooter's name. He's received enough press, and, frankly, I don't think we should ever dignify him with mention in the context of that day's survivors. Bluntly -- hey, news outlets, stop flashing that creepy pic in every "One Year Later" montage. At this point, it's distasteful. But I digress.

The day of the Tucson tragedy is as much the stuff of comics as any silly Jan Brewer gaff, but for completely different reasons. That morning one year ago, in a Safeway parking lot, Tucson faced no greater, tangible example of good versus evil -- it was as clear as Superman brawling with Brainiac. Further, the nation saw perfect examples of real heroes -- these are people that stepping in the pathway of bullets to protect others, and/or tackle the villain despite impending danger and harm. There's no other word to describe these people: Heroes.

I was at a comic con selling a mini-comic about heroes in Arizona when I first heard the news about Tucson, and Gaby Giffords. The irony didn't escape me. Some asked if I'd include the incident in the comic. I don't see the need. It's already a good versus evil story. What more can I offer that the actual events haven't -- and, what greater examples of heroism can I interject? My little comic book about current events exploits the reasons I enjoy living in Arizona, but the examples of the brave people that stepped up during the Tucson tragedy are the reasons I'm proud to live here.

To that end, since 2012 is the Grand Canyon State's centennial, I'm going to spend some time on the blog this year discussing the inspirations for Amazing Arizona Comics -- and the local/national news that drives my ongoing interest in current events. I'm excited to document these thoughts, because, like I said, sometimes the comic can't do it fast enough. And, sometimes, you don't need pictures.

Thank You, April . . .

As expected, the coming of spring has blossomed its fair share of creativity, starting with two of the best April Fool's Day jokes I've ever perpetuated, thanks to the persuasive power of the Internet, and its star agent Facebook. Firstly, I basically convinced many of my friends on Facebook that I've had a stalker since 2009 via his or her blog, Big Kaz Fan. On that blog, you'll see the second joke, a video we produced at work featuring the first ever "embroidery tattoo." Fortunately, tweezer removal is a lot less painful than that with a laser.

April 1 was also Phoenix's monthly "First Friday" art walk, which has become less about art and more about adolescents offering "free hugs" to oblige their attention-starved hormones. That night, my friends and I found the Mobile Karaoke Unit, a bicycle-propelled karaoke machine that tours First Friday and other events in metro Phoenix. Much to my delight, I sang the Monkees' "Daydream Believer," and many passers-by stopped to sing along. The MKU is an ingenious idea, I give credit to its K.J. for combining my two favorite hobbies (riding bikes and karaoke) into a virtual portable event. I'll endure hundreds of offers for free, sweaty hugs if it means singing another Monkees tune to the beautiful Phoenix skyline.

April is National Poetry Month, so I've been fulfilling the so-called 30/30 challenge by writing a poem a day until the 30th. I did this last year, too, but I'm much more pleased with this month's efforts so far; of course, I'll probably say the same thing next year, but so it goes as an ever self-critical writer. I try to be my own biggest fan first; if I'm happy, it's one less person to worry about pleasing in the crowd. I'm posting the pieces at KaraokeFanboy Press.

Speaking of performing poetry, I participated in my first competitive "prop slam" last week. Poetry slams (which are three-round readings where participants are scored by judges for the win) discourage props, so when they're allowed, it's often a proverbial show-and-tell of bric-a-brac muses. My girlfriend came in third place using my sombrero, her "Talk Nerdy to Me" T-shirt, and a laptop, and I'm very proud of her . . . but I'm most proud of my second-round performance. I utilized my Superman and Hulk action figures to demonstrate who would win in a fight . . . for five minutes. Mind you, a slam piece is supposed to be three minutes, but I got a little carried away. I tried to display all of Superman's and Hulk's powers, and elaborate on Superman's inner struggle to pull his punches in fear of actually killing his adversary (or the ol' heat vision lobotomy a la the Justice Lords from Justice League Unlimited). Ultimately, Supes won by flying the Hulk into the outer atmosphere, where he passed out, reverted to Banner, and was detained back in Metropolis. In case you were wondering.

Finally, I'm diligently working on Amazing Arizona Comics #4 this month, hoping to have it, and the following issue, complete for the Phoenix Comic Con on Memorial Day weekend. I've changed the story three times to accommodate local current events, and my recent discovery of Retro TV has inspired a story sure to please connoisseurs of Arizona lore and pop culture alike. In the meantime, at the end of the month I'm scheduled to appear at Grand Ave. Live (a local live talk show) as the host of Conspire's weekly open mic, then again at the Encyclopedia Show as a performer addressing "mustard" on the spectrum of color. Thank you, April, for keeping me on my toes.

California Dreamin' . . . and Arizona Slammin'

Three months ago, I came in dead last at the semi-monthly Sedona Poetry Slam, when I tried to perform pieces from memory before I was really ready. Yesterday, in a competition that came down to one second and .1 of a point, I won the Sedona Poetry Slam and its $100 prize -- and, yes, I had the poems on paper in front of me. You'd think that would be the lesson -- be prepared -- but you'd be wrong.

Yesterday was also the 12th day of Russmas, the beginning of my countdown to my 31st birthday on December 22. Exactly one year ago on that date, when I turned 30, I moved back to Arizona after twelve years in Fullerton, California. The hardest part of that move was leaving behind a community of coworkers that had become a surrogate family, and their love and support in my life has been one of the greatest unexpected gifts I've ever received. I feared I'd never find such hospitality again.

Fortunately, Arizona is known for its warmth, and I was delighted to find a hot poetry scene in Phoenix. After a few weeks as spectator, I began signing up for the open mic and quickly made a few pleasant acquaintances, first at Conspire's open mic, then at the weekly Mesa Poetry Slam. Its host, the Klute, was actually very careful to greet me and say "see ya next time" every week, which was important to my feeling welcome there at all. Though the Mesa Slam ended, then Sound Effects (hosted by the Valley's most bombastic performer Bill Campana), I'm happy that my friendship with its alumni has continued at coffee every week (thanks again to Bob Nelson's vehicular hospitality) and other readings around town. In a way, the Sedona Poetry Slam and the breakfast we poets shared beforehand ended a year that started under a blanket of insecurity with an assurance of hope and inspiration for the one to come.

You can read about the Sedona Poetry Slam at its host's blog, Fox the Poet. Further, I'll be guest-hosting Conspire's Russmas Extravaganza in just eleven days! Where I once tread with trepidation about feeling welcomed, now I'm guest-hosting on my birthday.

And that's the lesson, folks. Nothing is more inspiring and empowering than the support of your peers. My name is Russ Kazmierczak, Jr., and life has taught me that nothing beats the strength of a strong community.

A Tale of Two Cities

I love to visit cities. I don't do it often enough. Fortunately, self-publishing my own comic book has driven me to visit two cities over the past two months -- San Francisco in October for the Alternative Press Expo, and Tucson in November for the Tucson Comic Con. I've been to both cities before, but every visit offers a unique opportunity to experience something new, or something familiar from a new perspective -- and this time, for the first time, I had a camera phone with me.

If I had to summarize my tale of two cities without the benefit of pictures, I'd say I found one town a desolate, almost ramshackle smattering of rundown buildings and wandering homeless, and the other, a hip, bustling city rife with art, heart, and nightlife. You'd be surprised which was which.

Granted, my weekend in San Francisco was a cold, rainy one, and the Concourse, which hosts APE every year, isn't in the best corner of town. I'm used to this San Francisco, the perpetually overcast City by the Bay, the dichotomy of Fisherman's Wharf versus the industrial outer banks closer to urban Oakland. What I can't get used to is Market Street. Market is home to my favorite corner in San Francisco, where you can find the Mint (the best karaoke bar in America) on one side, with Al's Comics, Grooves Vinyl Attractions, and It's Tops Coffee Shop (one of the last great greasy spoons around) all across the street. With this quartet of cool on one end, and some touristy shops and trolley stops on the other, you'd think Market Street would be a crown jewel in downtown San Francisco's crown. Alas, it isn't even in the throne room.



Year after year, I stroll down Market Street and am consistently shocked at its rapid deterioration. The homeless population is just plain ridiculous, especially in contrast to the growing number of large, vacant buildings that once boasted a vibrant urban culture. What would be the harm in opening some of those doors for the homeless, especially on a rainy night? Behold these theaters turned porno shops -- and even they're out of business now, victims of the economy and the Internet, I presume. Market's downfall wouldn't be as baffling if I couldn't see the colorfully illuminated City Hall just a few blocks away, with its stoic, hierarchical architecture. The final straw for my perspective of San Francisco's seemingly schizophrenic image in the City Council's recent Happy Meal ban; in a city with so many hungry, regulating food for fat kids' sake seems like a misplaced priority.



Surprisingly, Tucson offered a breath of fresh air, though my friend Nathan warned me of the city's perpetual sewer smell -- which I didn't even notice. Instead, I saw a tight knit downtown glowing with inviting neon, from the historic Fox Theater (seems like every downtown has a Fox Theater) to the Railto to the Congress Hotel. Galleries were open late, and the Screening Room movie theater was showing a film about comic book writer Grant Morrison as a prelude to the Tucson Comic Con. The graffiti claimed no gang allegiance and instead did its best impression of urban art, in many cases, successfully. I didn't see a single homeless person, not that I doubt their presence in Tucson, but as a visitor to the city they didn't make a first or long lasting impression on me -- which is rare. If Tucson wasn't an entity in itself, the last great American metropolis before the Mexican border, I'd actually consider living there someday. Any city with its own growing comics convention is a contender in my book!

Next year, if I visit the San Francisco and Tucson again, I may have two totally different experiences. I may wander to Fisherman's Wharf and experience a bit more of San Francisco's rich history -- or I may wander off Tucson's beaten path and find myself kidnapped by a band of desert meandering meth heads. They say location is everything, but so's the timing -- because, at some point in its life, every city was a great American city. Every city was once somebody's favorite to visit.

KaraokeFanboy Weekly #4: The "Come Talk to Me" Issue

KaraokeFanboy Weekly, vol. 1 no. 4: The "Come Talk to Me" Issue

*****

The latest issue of KaraokeFanboy Weekly makes its way online a little later than usual, but I have a good excuse: I was the featured poet at Conspire's Open Mic in Phoenix on Wednesday, August 4. Fortunately, the event was recorded and I've published my reading in four parts on YouTube; you can find them at my channel. This was my third feature but the first I've ever made available for public consumption; I hope you enjoy it!

*****

To parallel my posting the Conspire feature, this week's theme is connection, specifically the connections we share with people and our surroundings, and I can think of no better song (or performance) than Peter Gabriel's "Come Talk to Me." This live performance (which introduced Paula Cole to the world) is especially stirring.



*****

I scratched a comedian off of my bucket list this weekend when my girlfriend, my oldest friend Wade and his girlfriend, and I saw Nick Dipaolo at the Comedy Spot in Scottsdale. I didn't know of any other comedy venues in the greater Phoenix area than the Tempe Improv, and while I was grateful to find a new venue, the intimate setting was almost too much so for a quick smart mouth like Dipaolo, who absolutely couldn't stand the loud table behind us. He badgered them (and rightfully so) into silence many times throughout the show until they just eventually left -- but why anyone would go to a comedy show and talk through it is beyond me. In many ways, even above the intricate and delicate word play of slam poetry, stand-up comedy is the last great demonstration of oration in contemporary society. Whereas slam poetry is designed to elicit a variety of emotions depending on the piece, and even the humorous ones don't demand laughter, stand-up demands laughter. This laughter implied an attentiveness -- that's where the audience participates. Unless heckling enhances a comedian's routine (and sometimes it really does), just sit back and enjoy the show. Indeed, the way many comedians analyze their job is no laughing matter. Thankfully, Dipaolo is better than anything a stuck up Scottsdale crowd can throw at him, and his show was worth the wait.

*****

Note: I'm eager to include two new staples to KaraokeFanboy Weekly; the first is a weekly comic book review. From July 2006 to June 2007, I actually reviewed A Comic A Day on a blog with that very name; my sophomore effort to read another 365 comics failed barely one fourth of the way through the year, and the blog's recent incarnation to find the daily influence of comics was a flop, too. So, I'll continue the legacy here, albeit weekly, with whatever comic or graphic novel I've read lately.

Batman: Snow (DC Comics): written by Dan Curtis Johnson & J.H. Williams, illustrated by Seth Fisher

A year and a half into his career as the Batman, Bruce Wayne is both tired yet determined to continue his one man war on crime. When he realizes his few friends in arms are limited by their allegiance to the law (James Gordon as a cop, and Harvey Dent as a lawyer, of course), Batman assembles a small, diverse of talented individuals that could offer research and reconnaissance to his cause, and at first their efforts are successful. Unfortunately, parallel to their efforts in capturing an up-and-coming crime lord, the origin of the villainous Mr. Freeze is unfolding elsewhere in Gotham City, and when the plots collide, the results are certainly a snowball of circumstance Batman can no longer control. In the end, Batman dissolves the group and resolves the only partnership that could really benefit him is one involving someone willing to listen to his every marching -- somebody that can watch his back. Good thing the circus, with their feature act the Flying Graysons, are coming to town . . .!

Seth Fisher's art is this story's true selling point, as the artist passed away way before his time and this work stands along Green Lantern: Willworld and Flash: Time Flies as his most mainstream, superhero work. I hate to say it, but honestly I'm not a fan of Fisher's Batman. His work is simply too detail-oriented to depict the Dark Knight as the living shadow many artists personify; for better or worse, Fisher's Batman is way too human. I do like his Mr. Freeze, and the character's incremental development from scientist to hallucinating madman suit Fisher's eclectic style perfectly. Above all, Fisher's passion for illustration is prevalent throughout the story (originally published in single issues of Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight) and is greater evidence that the industry lost a star way too soon.

Mr. Freeze has always been one of my favorite villains, but I hadn't thought of him as Batman's first super-powered villain until this storyline. Indeed, thanks to his suit, his strength and defense is more than an average person could handle, so when Mr. Freeze's bosses and the Gotham underworld work together to weaponize that cryogenic technology, everybody's in over their head, especially Batman. Further, while Batman always brags about flying solo, he is in fact one of the neediest characters in comics, and this story ambitiously and successfully sets the tone for both Bruce Wayne's need to work with others and why he's just so darn picky about it. Batman realizes his limitation as one lone ranger in Gotham, but as events unfold in Snow, he also discovers how a group of conflicting personalities becomes a greater liability than its worth. As much as this is Mr. Freeze's origin, it's also that of Batman's feelings toward Robin and the Justice League. Robin's the kid he was able to mold into the perfect partner; the Justice League is a bunch of adults with different, oft unyielding methods and opinions. Mr. Freeze gave Batman a good reason to have a cold shoulder.

*****

The other new feature for KaraokeFanboy Weekly is actually an old feature of sorts, recycling posts from my old LiveJournal. Since I started this blog, my LiveJournal has slowly but surely breathed its last, but I don't want to abandon it entirely, as it represents a foundational part of my life in writing. In their recycled incarnations here, I can hopefully offer some insight to my mentality when I wrote this stuff; I know in this case, I was examining the crossroads of my life in California and the possibility of moving to Arizona. I was sitting at the Coffee Plantation in Scottsdale before heading out to Comic Con, and Phil Collins' "Take Me Home" came on the radio. I was already thinking of Plato's analogy of the cave, and the concepts clicked. So, submitted for your approval:

"Take Me Home, Because I Don't Remember"
originally posted on Tuesday, July 21, 2009, 3:34 p.m. on KaraokeFanboy LiveJournal

First of all, Phil Collins is the Plato of our generation. Don't believe me? Listen to his song "Take Me Home," or at least read its lyrics here, then remember Plato's Allegory of the Cave, summarized like all things by and for general consumption at its Wikipedia. Both contributions to society depict a character that has been "a prisoner all my life," with a "fire that's been burning right outside my door," and that seems content with the delusions that have pervaded his life. Indeed, adult contemporary radio is the Socratic dialogue of our generation.

I first heard of Plato, Socrates, and the Allegory of the Cave my freshman year in high school, when Mr. Poslaiko introduced them in a discussion about the relevance of learning via our five senses. Of course, this analogy easily extends and can describe the way one lives his life, as well. Unlike the victims of Plato's allegory, some people choose to live chained and to behold those vapid shadows as their only understanding of reality. In one of his dialogues, Plato even explains how one freed from those chains and dragged into the real world might prefer the shadows, as they were his original and thus true perception of the way things should be -- and some people act like that today, as well.

We call these people the Amish. Kidding . . . That was too easy.

I don't live in a cave. I live in a tunnel. At either opening, I can turn to see a different vibrant reality, but right now I'm looking at the shadows they cast on the wall. These shadows sometimes blend into one distorted image with the dancing shapes of each, depending on the way the fire behind me burns and pops. Other times, the shadows are cast so far apart, I may as well crane my neck that extra inch to look outside, but then I see the opposing reality in its colorful, third dimensional glory, in stark contrast to that different, static silhouette, and I get confused. It's enough to make me want to put that that fire out.

I suppose Plato's prisoners had a third option, though I don't think he ever explored it: though their limbs and heads were bounds and immobile, they could've closed their eyes and refused the shadows to create a reality all their own. The snag in this plan is that the imagination could only conjure and distort what it's already seen, so even their make-believe escape would consist solely of shadow, too -- but in my case, I've seen it all. I've seen both ends of the tunnel, the shadows they cast, the tunnel itself. I've seen the ground beneath my feet and can easily tunnel another way out, something I've done a few times before and would rather not do again. That it's always an option is enough.

Yet keeping the two worlds at bay to remain in the tunnel is not enough; it is, as the Allegory of the Cave insists, an empty existence. So, what's the answer? Good student that I am, I consult the Phil(osopher) Collins and his treatise: I feign memory loss, and I demand: Take me home. After all, I'm not a prisoner; I walked into this tunnel. Someone lead me whence I came, out the way I'm most familiar. Take me home.

*****

There's no place like it,
Russ a.k.a. KaraokeFanboy

KaraokeFanboy Weekly #2: The "Like To Hear It, Here It Goes" Issue

Internet magic is permitting me to post this even as I'm attending the San Diego Comic Con right now, so while I wander among X-Men, Storm Troopers, and Ghostbusters, your daily dose of geek will have to come from . . .

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KaraokeFanboy Weekly vol. 1, no. 2: The "Like to Hear It, Here It Goes" Issue

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I'm grateful to live in a metropolis named after something. When I lived near Los Angeles, I could use its old adage, "a city of angels," to explain certain benevolent events, especially in contrast to how absolutely dismal downtown Los Angeles really is. Now, in Phoenix, I'm often experiencing examples of rebirth, just like that fiery, mythical bird, and every now and then she actually spreads her wings for me, to prove she really exists. For example, I captured this picture from the loop 202/I-10 interchange last Friday, heading to (of all places) Firestage.



A few months ago, I took a totally different picture that captured that same spirit, and even wrote a poem about it for National Poetry Month. Just goes to show, a phoenix has fiery feathers aplenty.

*****

That night, I saw and captured this poster, too.



I've been studying the art form of the contemporary protest sign for a few years now (in fact, I self-published a zine collecting four years' worth of anti-war protests in Los Angeles if you're interested), and this poster has all of the demonizing staples: devil's horns, swastika, Hitler-'stache. (Michael Jordan is just two away from making a bold statement of his own.) These symbols easily conjure thoughts of evil -- but have we ever established the imagery necessary to depict someone favorably? A halo could be the opposite of devil's horns . . . but the opposite of a swastika? A happy face? A rainbow? Uh, those may already be taken. And has anyone done as much good as Hitler did evil for us to warrant his facial hair worthy of sainthood? Our priorities are clear -- pointing out the problem is much easier than seeking the solution.

Interestingly, whoever designed this poster used the same image I Google-imaged and turned into this custom T-shirt. That's a KaraokeFanboy original!



*****

Al and Tipper Gore announced their divorce a few months ago now, long before Al's MasseuseGate, and I was absolutely dumbfounded by it. Initially, Al wanted to pursue his environment-oriented career and Tipper wanted to focus on family -- which was what I thought they were doing anyway, but with the benefit of one another's support. That something -- perhaps MasseuseGate (though CigarGate didn't shatter the Clinton franchise) -- finally broke this bond baffled me, and indicated a turning point in the already rocky age of marital fidelity. With divorce rates teetering at 50/50, when public marriages forty years deep dissolve, marriage as a whole may just go the way of the dodo. Since other events have buried this headline, I wanted to post this piece now, before it's ancient history.

The Inconvenient Truth

The Gores are getting divorced.
And like any child of divorce, the Internet wants to know,
“Mommy, Daddy – Is it my fault?”
I suppose we should be grateful.
If Al was able to juggle his marriage with inventing the Internet,
who knows what he’s capable of now that’s he’s shucked off the old ball and chain? Holographic television? Star Trek-like matter transporters? Cities on the moon? Al – the future is waiting for you to claim it.
Tipper isn’t one to sit idly, either.
Surely rappers have invented new swear words
since her last campaign against the music industry,
words like assolicious and twatastic.
Now that she doesn’t have to baby her husband’s ego anymore,
she can get back to the business of being America’s mother.

No, what they’re going to do isn’t the question –
but, after 40 years of marriage, the question is why are they doing it?
Thanks to Al Gore’s headlining running mate,
America has been unwaveringly faithful to infidelity.
America wants to know, did Al cheat?
Where’s the mistress?
But we all know the answer.
We’ve seen Al out with his other woman.
Talking about her fondly.
Brazenly buying her expensive jewelry like Oscars and Pulitzers.
He’s even said outright that she’s been getting hot and bothered for him for years. This is Mother Earth we’re talking about – the ultimate seductress.
What a slut, the way she lets men walk all over her.
Talk about everybody getting a turn.
Tipper never had a chance.

Who would? Who does, when men feel owed the world?
The inconvenient truth of the Gores’ divorce
is that everyone is his own self-righteous cause.
I see a day coming
when the cold shoulders of neglected spouses will melt and flood the earth,
when the hot air from heated arguments will rise and burn a hole in the ozone layer, when everything we’ve ever wanted finally takes that plunge
from the tips of our tongues and when we part our lips . . . apocalypse.

The Internet doesn’t come around the old neighborhood anymore.
When he does pop up, he just wants to sell me pills.

*****

All of this writing about what I've most recently seen or experienced reminds me of my favorite In Loving Color character, Calhoun Tubbs. His tag line is as topical as it is timeless: "Wrote a song about it -- like to hear it, here it goes!"



That's one cat that always tells it like it is.

I'm cheating on Mother Earth with Father Time's daughter,
Russ a.k.a. KaraokeFanboy

200 Posts Later: 100 Awesome Things About Arizornia!

Welcome to my 200th post at The Inner Child Speaketh! Apparently, the inner child has much to say.

I've recently moved from Fullerton, California to Mesa, Arizona, and I couldn't have picked a more controversial time to call both states my home! Arizona's SB 1070 has ignited heated debate bordering (pun intended) on sociopolitical fanaticism, but if California's recent Republican gubernatorial primaries have taught us anything (aside from where your eBay surcharges were going all these years), it's that a fine line in the desert doesn't distinguish the shared responsibility of our nation's integrity. Of course, "our nation's integrity" is a subjective phrase -- for some, it means sanctifying America's borders, and for others, it means an American dream that's accessible to all, no matter what. I've made my opinions public on Facebook, the perfect forum for in-your-face opinions, since that's kind of in its name and all. Here, I've decided to pledge allegiance to both California and Arizona with "100 Awesome Things about Arizornia!"

Yes, "awesome" knows no border, and this is a completely arbitrary list of the places and personalities that make Arizornia such a cool place to live. It's by no means comprehensive, but each entry represents unique experiences I've had by way of the hobbies I most enjoy, like comics, coffee, comedy, etc. A tad autobiographical? Perhaps. A call to arms to experiences these things for yourself? Absolutely. Even if you never visit Arizornia, perhaps my recollection of a person, place, or thing therein will remind you of some similar experience from your personal travels, and we'll at least share that nostalgia -- because whether your America is a well-defined nation of borders or an open ideal for the world to pursue (and I'm not saying one is better than the other!), it's always been a place that tries to remember its roots.

Note: I've distinguished which side of the desert you can find these most awesome of landmarks with red and blue. I think you'll figure out the rest.

1. 24 Hour Wal-Mart, Valleywide: because sometimes you need a pair of tube socks and Drain-o at 4 a.m.
2. A&J’s, Fullerton: a nostalgic walk-up grease pit
3. All About Books & Comics, Phoenix: to the best of my knowledge, the only comic book store accessible from the light rail!
4. ArtSpace, Scottsdale: a gallery in swanky Scottsdale that isn’t afraid to host steampunk exhibits
5. Ash Avenue Comics, Tempe: for their large rack of indie books
6. Atomic Comics, Mesa: Phoenix’s major chain of comic book stores, and fortunately for me the biggest and best location is in Mesa
7. Azteca, Garden Grove: the best collection of Elvis memorabilia at a Mexican restaurant, with karaoke on the weekend!
8. Barney's Boathouse, Tempe: specifically, their $5 burger baskets on Wednesdays and Fridays
9. Beach & Ball, Anaheim: a quaint corner, home to Beachball Comics and three collectible toy stores, including Phat Collectibles, an overpriced collectible toy store – more of a toy museum, really, with action figures in glass cases that I could never afford
10. Beach Blvd. between La Palma and Lincoln, Buena Park: the southbound drive to Knott’s Berry Farm, including Medieval Times and the now-abandoned Wax Museum, is the OC’s answer to Hollywood Blvd.
11. Bee-line Café, Payson: one of the best diners in Arizona, thanks to its rich family history
12. Bill Campana: my favorite local poet/Larry King hater
13. Bill Handel: the best morning radio talk show host, ever
14. Bookmans, Mesa: an excellent source for new and used books and music, and in the same strip mall as Atomic Comics . . . and a 99 Cents Store! Has someone been reading my wish journal?
15. Bragg's Pie Factory, Phoenix: whoever thought to convert an old pie factory into an art exhibit with piñatas – genius. And, is it just me, or does it still smell like pie?
16. Brea Improv, Brea: always emailed me free passes, so they deserve props
17. Canter’s Deli, Hollywood: delicious kosher food – come for the pickles, stay for the bakery!
18. Cheba Hut, Mesa: a cool local sandwich shop with an, uhm, unique theme
19. Cine-Capri, Tempe: though not as historically poignant as the original, this Cine-Capri captures the Valley movie-going experience with the biggest bang around
20. CinemaFusion, Anaheim: with a 21 and over lounge, where you can bring your beer into the theater . . . ‘Nuff said!
21. Coffee Plantation, Scottsdale: What happened to the Arizona-based coffee chain I knew so well?
22. Comedy Store, Hollywood: specifically, its homage to Andy Kaufman
23. Comics, Toons, ‘N Toys, Tustin: my favorite comic book store in life so far
24. Conspire Coffee House, Phoenix: the most daring, eclectic poetry open mic in town
25. CornerStore Comics, Fullerton: a distributor of collectibles, but also a community-minded shop – they frequently donated comics to the Boys & Girls Clubs of Fullerton
26. Date Shack, Newport Beach: now owned and operated by Ruby’s, and home of the my favorite date shack, the Monkey Flip
27. Downtown Fullerton, Fullerton: dubbed “Sunset Blvd. East” by The Los Angeles Times, an antique row turned college town block party
28. Downtown Glendale, Glendale: a time capsule of antique shops, anchored by my favorite, Bo’s Funky Stuff
29. Downtown Los Angeles, Los Angeles: for being like a Monet – beautiful to look at from a distance, but baffling and disoriented up close
30. Downtown Mesa, Mesa: Downtown Mesa has more potential cool than viable cool, but its residents seem to be a patient people
31. Drawn to Comics, Glendale: gets the best customer service award
32. Dunkin' Donuts, Valleywide: California doesn’t have a single Dunkin’ Donuts. I swear; look it up. In Arizona, they’re on every corner. Win.
33. Durty Nelly’s, Costa Mesa: and the best karaoke jockey in Orange County, Kevin
34. El Torito, Cypress: for hosting karaoke on Friday nights, and allowing me to invade so many unsuspecting couples’ romantic dinners with “You Give Love a Bad Name”
35. Evermore Nevermore, Mesa: an oasis of comics and goth punk culture
36. Frank & Sons Collectibles Show, City of Industry: a Mecca of comics and collectibles, and where O.J. Simpson planned to sell the stuff he stole, or that was stolen from him, or whatever
37. Fuzzy Bear’s, Stanton: an enigma I highly recommend
38. Golden Apple Comics, Hollywood: a genuinely famous comic book store
39. Goodwill, Valleywide: every other Saturday is 50% day . . . because $2 for that genuine vintage Tee is about 50% more than I’d be willing to pay!
40. Grand Ave., Phoenix: in the shadow of Phoenix’s rising downtown, a pocket of dive bars and art galleries remain unchanged . . . ironically making them the hippest spot around
41. Greg's Comics, Mesa: when I put $6 worth of back issues on the counter, and the clerk rang me up with, “Ah, let’s say $4,” I knew Greg’s was a cool comics shop
42. Gypsy Den, Santa Ana: delicious coffee, and the home of an amazing open mic – where I first featured!
43. Hollywood Sign, Hollywood: the world’s biggest real estate sign
44. Hollywood Walk of Fame, Hollywood: the only place I can see the Monkees and Mary Tyler Moore all in the same place
45. Jesse James Comics, Glendale: Drawn to Comics gets best customer service, but Jesse James gets most thoughtful; I get there maybe once a month, and he remembers every conversation we had, setting aside recommended comics and offering discounts aplenty
46. June Gloom, overhead: summer’s good morning kiss
47. La Palma Chicken Pie Shop, Anaheim: old school food at old school prices
48. Laugh Factory, Hollywood: a controversial comedy haven
49. Lee Mallory: I daresay the Godfather of Orange County poetry, and a sexy redhead, to boot
50. Light Rail, Valleywide: Phoenix’s bloodstream, and the only way I can get to half the stuff I like around here
51. Linbrook Bowl & the Kopa Room, Anaheim: the best place you will ever karaoke, if you manage to get a turn
52. Long Beach Antique Flea Market, Long Beach: the Antiques Roadshow meets your grandmother’s garage
53. Long Beach’s Antique Row, Long Beach: everything Urban Outfitters wishes it could be – and home of Portfolio Coffee House, the LBC’s best cup of java
54. Los Angeles Comic Book and Science Fiction Convention, the Shrine Auditorium, Los Angeles: the best monthly comic book convention in the worst part of town
55. Macayo’s Depot Cantina, Tempe: right off the light rail, converted from the original train station, and offering a free buffet at the bar Monday through Friday, 4 p.m. to 6 p.m.!
56. Marctini Lounge, Glendale: the West Valley has a karaoke oasis, and it is the vainly named and conversely madly hospitable Marctini Lounge
57. Marjle’s, Phoenix: the best place to watch a Suns game – and if it’s too crowded, Cooperstown is an equally accessible plan B
58. McClains Coffee House, Fullerton: my favorite local coffee shop
59. Meltdown Comics, Hollywood: an excellent source of alt and indie comics in the heart of Hollywood’s mainstream
60. Mesa’s Tiny Poetry Slam, Mesa: a thoughtful, funny group of people keepin’ Slam alive in the East Valley
61. Metro Comics, Santa Barbara: holds a fond place in my heart as the shop that introduced me to Vertigo’s Human Target
62. Mill Ave., Tempe: a nine-month long college block party – and a ghost town during the summertime
63. Monsoon, summertime: when I was a kid, I used to put on my Ghostbusters plastic proton pack and glare up at the red night sky, ready for action – thankfully, I scared the specters off
64. Norm’s, Anaheim: They never close.
65. O’Kelly’s Sports Bar, Tempe: karaoke and Ms. Pac-Man under one roof? Yeah, I’m gonna be here awhile
66. OC Weekly: Orange County’s weekly liberal rag – a great read, even if they dropped “Red Meat” and “This Modern World”
67. OCTA: Orange County’s bloodstream
68. Orange Circle, Orange: a row of antique stores, conveniently positioned in a circle to remind us that everything old can be new again
69. Orpheum, Phoenix: a cool venue for even cooler performances, most notably when I saw Kevin Smith there in April
70. Peoria Café, Peoria: the best greasy spoon in the West Valley
71. Phoenix Comicon, Phoenix: I saw Stan Lee, Wil Wheaton, LeVar Burton, and Jonathan Frakes without having to waiting in San Diego Comic Con-like lines – so I’m looking forward to next year
72. Phoenix New Times: Phoenix’s token liberal rag, with fun regular pieces about the history of Van Buren Blvd. and Fry Girl’s fast food rants
73. Phoenix Skyline: as triumphant as a resurrected bird of flame
74. Pofolks, Buena Park: good old-fashioned eats, and the only Pofolks left in the west!
75. Pop Culture Paradise, Tempe: a comic book store with a tight fit and a nice selection of toys and back issues
76. Queen’s Pizzeria, Mesa: the hospitable host of the Mesa Poetry Slam, not to mention a huge, tasty, affordable Greek salad
77. Robin Hood Motel, Anaheim: for the cool sign
78. Rutabegortz, Fullerton: vegetarian cuisine so good, you’d think it had meat in it!
79. Samurai Comics, Phoenix: like All About Books and Comics, a cool downtown location, with another impressive rack of indies and local talent
80. Sherriff Joe Arpaio: I don’t care for his politics, but few have made local law enforcement more dramatically entertaining
81. Sherwood Inn, Anaheim: this ain’t Robin Hood’s Sherwood . . . Who want drink milk?!
82. Starbucks, 5th St. & Mill Ave.: the best vantage point for a bustling college town
83. Starbucks, Chapman Ave. & Harbor Blvd.: the best vantage point for downtown Fullerton
84. Sunrise Café, Tempe – café cookin’ with Mediterranean flair
85. T.C. Eggington's, Mesa: a tasty breakfast with a surprisingly hilarious mythology on its menu
86. Tempe Improv, Tempe: the first comedy club I ever went to (and saw Jon Stewart pre-Daily Show), and now where I’ve seen the most edgy comedy show ever, with Greg Fitzsimmons
87. The Other Place, Anaheim: the perfect plan B
88. Third Street Promenade, Santa Monica: specifically, the street preachers, the guys that play the buckets, and the picture of the Monkees in the corner Irish pub
89. Tilted Kilt, Tempe: waitresses in kilts . . . I’m just sayin’
90. TomKat Lounge, Anaheim: a dive bar so low, you touch the bottom of the pool – and don’t play the drums onstage during karaoke!
91. Two Idiots Peddling Poetry/Ugly Mug, Orange: Orange County’s best poetry reading at one of its coolest coffee shops, and some of the nicest guys that ever inspired me to keep writing
92. Uncle Monkey's, Mesa: karaoke stumbling distance from my apartment, every night of the week – and with a name like that, who wouldn’t check it out
93. Universal Studios/CityWalk, Hollywood: comics, stand-up comedy, PEZ . . . all in one place? This is where dreams come to dream!
94. Uptown Whittier: the best . . . oh, never mind . . . I’ll never be as punk rock as Uptown Whittier
95. Venice Beach: weirdo central
96. Village Inn, Valleywide: my favorite Denny’s alternative where my mom works
97. Wayne Resnick: the best weekend radio talk show host that deserves a regular weekly time slot
98. Westward Ho, Phoenix: the hotel from the beginning of Psycho stands proud in the heart of Phoenix and looks ready to stab the Chase building in the back
99. Xtreme Bean, Tempe: an old bank converted to Tempe’s best coffeehouse, and the old walk-in safe is a study room!
100. Zia’s, Tempe: one of the last, great record stores