Alibi Volume 17, Number 39
September 25, 2008
And here's why
We here at the Alibi spend a good chunk of pulp every year reminding people to cast a ballot, printing voter FAQs and rallying for turnout at the polls. Troughs of ink go into printing election guides. We put a lot of research and time into interviewing politicos—as does the rest of the nation.
The state's first media arts school wants to raise generations of talent
Principal Glenna Voigt is making sure her keys work in the front door of a two-story charter school. The building is purple, really purple—sudden color in an otherwise asphalted landscape. Though school's been in session for two days, today, Sept. 4, is the first day its 93 students will occupy classrooms.
Which politician held a rally in New Mexico? The Isotopes' new parent club is ... ? Election faux pas. And why are cops using Craigslist?
Libertarian presidential candidate Bob Barr wants to lower taxes and slash the federal budget
Bob Barr says the Republican Party has lost its way.
Slap my forearm and call me a junkie. Every morning, I hose off, wrap myself in a towel and try not to sit down at my computer. Every morning, late for work or not, I fail. I have to know. What's old so-and-so up to? Which blogger's crying foul this week? What specks of dirt did reporters manage to scrape from under what's-her-face's fingernails?
The City Council was scheduled to pass a routine bond bill for the Sunport at the Sept. 15 meeting. Councilors had to defer action. City Assistant Treasurer for Debt Management Cilia Aglialoro and bond attorney David Buchholtz said they couldn’t price the bonds that day because of turmoil in the financial markets, including the bankruptcy of Lehman Brothers, the buyout of Merrill Lynch, insurance giant AIG going on life support and a 500-point drop in the Dow Jones index. Councilor Sally Mayer was excused.
Apparently, the New Mexico State Fair doesn’t want my kind.
When I go to the fair, I can take or leave the funnel cakes and the barbecue. The prize-winning goats and bunnies—no matter how cute—hold no more than a passing interest for me; likewise the clanky, vomit-spackled midway rides.
No, one of the main reasons I go to the State Fair is to see something different, like exhibits and sideshows. I want to see somebody juggling fiery bowling balls on a unicycle; I want to meet this season’s World’s Smallest Woman. But I can’t.
Dateline: Australia—It might have seemed like a good idea at the start, but a streaker’s on-field antics at a soccer match north of Adelaide last weekend came to an abrupt end when the naked fan knocked himself unconscious. Prompted by a $50 ($40 U.S.) dare from friends, 26-year-old Nathan Roberts ran naked onto the pitch last Saturday during the Adelaide Plains Football League preliminary final match between United and Hummocks Watchman Eagles at Virginia Oval. Part of the challenge was Roberts had to perform a cartwheel on the field. “Midair I changed my mind,” Roberts told the Daily Telegraph. “I half landed on my foot and went face-first into the ground.” While unconscious, Roberts had to be carried out on a stretcher. He was not seriously injured and did collect his $50. Roberts played half a season with the Virginia B Grade team but left suffering from fluid on the lung, pneumonia and an inflamed liver and spleen. Despite suffering a headache and a sore neck from his stark-naked stunt, Roberts admitted he’s up for a repeat performance. “I like a bit of attention and I’d do it again.” said Roberts. “But I’d up the price.”
The thing about silent film is that it was never actually silent. The earliest, black-and-white examples of the filmmaker’s art were accompanied by live music, which heightened the emotional experience and lured audiences into the pictures just as surely as today’s most high-tech special effects.
Sparks’ romance serves up the schmaltz, North Carolina-style
I’ve always liked Diane Lane (A Little Romance; Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fabulous Stains; Rumble Fish; Streets of Fire: all good stuff in my book). After a long, largely indifferent period (King David, Pretty Woman, Intersection, First Knight, Autumn in New York), I’ve grown somewhat more appreciative of Richard Gere (Chicago, The Hoax, The Hunting Party, I’m Not There). He’s one of those people (like Sean Connery) upon whom age looks better than youth. At 59, he also nearly outgrown his romantic leading man phase, taking on more interesting roles and sparing us the theoretical horror of Runaway Bride 2. Nicholas Sparks (Message in a Bottle, A Walk to Remember, The Notebook), I’ve never had the slightest interest in. What Thomas Kinkade is to painters, what Anne Geddes is to photographers, Nicholas Sparks is to writers--a pandering populist peddler of easy sentiment.
The sixth annual Southwest Gay and Lesbian Film Festival
Every year like clockwork—like big, gay clockwork—the Southwest Gay and Lesbian Film Festival returns to New Mexico. This year marks the sixth annual outing for the increasingly popular festival. For a week in early fall, the arts organization known as Closet Cinema takes over theaters in two New Mexico cities, unspooling a collection of entertaining features, essential shorts, must-see documentaries and must-attend parties (always with the parties).
“Fringe” on FOX
Science used to be a good thing. Or at least a neutral thing. Now, thanks perhaps to eight years of demonization by the Bush administration, science is our newest go-to villain. High-falutin’ science is taking over the place formerly occupied by inscrutable Asians, creepy Russians and strangely dressed Middle Easterners. Thanks to a fall TV season marked by shows like “Primeval,” “Fringe” and the soon-to-debut “Eleventh Hour,” topics such as evolution, global warming, stem cell research and the like are downright eeee-vil.
The Week in Sloth
Dear Hedwig and the Angry Inch fanatics (you don't really go by "Hedheads," do you?),
Tapa tapa tapa
Noise musicians are the vampires of the music world. Cloaked in black, they like to stay up all night sucking. (Face!) No, but seriously, 20-odd noise acts will shun the light of day in a 12-hour nighttime showcase this Friday, Sept. 26. The Sicksicksick Overnight Festival is from 8 p.m. to 8 a.m. at STOVE (114 Morningside NE) and costs just $7, which includes breakfast. That part I’m not kidding about. (LM)
*Bring Your Own Sleeping Bag
Smithsonian Magazine wants to immerse you in fine art, cultural heritage, balloon history and anthropological research. It wants do this so much, it's offering free admission to multiple venues on Saturday, Sept. 27. All you need to do is visit smithsonian.com and print out the Museum Day admission card and you'll get access to Albuquerque International Balloon Museum, El Rancho de las Golondrinas Living History Museum, Georgia O'Keeffe Museum, Museum of Indian Arts and Culture, Museum of International Folk Art, New Mexico Museum of Art, New Mexico Museum of Natural History and Science, Palace of the Governors/New Mexico History Museum and Wheelwright Museum of the American Indian. Woo. Try saying that 10 times fast. Complete details are at smithsonian.com.
The Homecoming at The Cell Theatre
Harold Pinter's Tony Award-winning play The Homecoming is like an episode of “Jerry Springer.” It focuses on a family. A family with issues. A family ready to come undone as a result of those issues. A family that comes undone in the most unpredictable way.
Deathtrap at The Aux Dog Theatre
Super villains have this habit of meticulously explaining their schemes to would-be victims. It's frightfully annoying, especially as their plans usually prove fruitless when the inevitable superheroes fly in to save the day, leaving the villains with eggy faces and foiled plots.
I've been raiding the apricot tree behind a house in my neighborhood that's clearly vacant (looking through the window, the house is empty and the fridge is wide open). The apricots are big, blemish-free and absolutely gorgeous, with dark orange flesh that's almost red, and they taste great. So I was over there the other day, picking the fruit off the branches, when I decided to try one that was lying on the ground, figuring it would be even more ripe than the ones still clinging to the tree. And, my god, that was a tasty apricot; I decided to wait a few days and come back later, when they're all that ripe.
Where everybody knows your name
... Except mine. As I sat alone in a beat-up vinyl booth, I couldn’t help but feel left out of the camaraderie shared between the staff and apparently loyal clientele. Nearly everyone who walked in the door was heartily greeted by name, or at least with some degree of familiarity. I just got strange looks as I sat typing on my phone, my to-die-for leather platform pumps dangling off the edge of the seat. Remember that "Sesame Street" segment, “One of these things is not like the others”? That was me and my lovely cashmere wrap.