Media flap turns into all-out war

A Twitter-driven feud between rival Las Vegas news organizations escalated into a full-blown terror campaign this week when journalists decided to put down their pens and take up swords — specifically, homemade explosives and high-caliber firearms.

The dispute between reporters at the Las Vegas Review-Journal and KLAS-TV star George Knapp started when the R-J scooped everyone in town on the arrest of a suspect who allegedly committed several brutal murders and sexual assaults.

Knapp initially Tweeted that the report was "greatly exaggerated" and insisted that "No one has been arrested for the double murders." After police confirmed that an arrest had been made, Knapp followed with a piece asserting that the paper's stories had endangered the investigation, a charge the R-J vigorously disputed.

Then, in the words of Anchorman Ron Burgundy, things "really got out of hand fast."

It started with the detonation of an improvised explosive device intended to take out Knapp on his drive to work. As a longtime investigative reporter, though, Knapp is insanely paranoid, and he drives a double-armored Cadillac Escalade with a swivel-mounted .50-caliber machine gun on the roof. 

The bomb did no damage and no one was injured.

A group called the RJL took credit for the attack. RJL purportedly means "Righteous Justice League." But seriously, that's not going to fool anyone.

Knapp allegedly retaliated by strafing the R-J's offices with his machine gun. The bunker-like building absorbed the rounds without incident, although the luxury automobile that Publisher Bob Brown flaunts to his cash-strapped employees exploded, most likely from a bullet that pierced the gas tank.

Finally, members of the rival news teams gathered on the site of the demolished Moulin Rouge casino for a brawl to settle it all, just like in "Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy":

Handicapping the match was tough. The R-J has superior numbers, but KLAS cameramen, like television cameramen everywhere, are roughly the size of midget Bigfoots and have calves as big as turkey breasts. They're tough to stop once they get momentum.

Instead of fighting, though, the sides took turns quoting lines from "Anchorman." 

"No commercials - no mercy!" got a big laugh, and they decided to skip to the part of the movie where everyone has a Miller High Life. Also, no one had a trident.

Both groups decamped to Larry's Villa, where they drank cheap beer but did not eat the food, because that place is kinda nasty.

Police: Lethal force "only option" against fact-wielder

Las Vegas police shot and killed a downtown arts district leader Friday who was allegedly waving an inconvenient fact at police officers and city officials.

Westley Myles Isbutt, who owned the Arts Factory and Bar+Bistro, had spoken publicly about police officers being paid $66 an hour to provide security at special events. He had also stored opinions about that fact on a laptop computer he was carrying when police approached him outside his Charleston Avenue businesses Friday morning.

"He was ordered to drop the laptop, turn around and bend over, and to smile when he did it," said police Sgt. Chester P. Buzzworth. "He did not comply within 15 seconds, and in those situations lethal force is the only option."

It is unclear how many rounds were fired because homeless people immediately descended on the scene to collect bullets and bullet casings for recycling. So far this month, Las Vegas police have shot at least 632 people.

Isbutt was an Arts District pioneer who had grown increasingly frustrated with government regulations covering zoning and licensing. He was known around town as Wes Myles because ... well, because his last name was Isbutt.

He told the Las Vegas Review-Journal that he was thinking about leaving town, with the $66-an-hour required expenditure for off-duty police officers chief among the reasons why.

Several city officials visited police headquarters to ask about Isbutt's complaints this week. However, when they emerged from the building, they were pale as ghosts and trembling with what appeared to be abject fear. They refused to talk to reporters.

Buzzworth said the conversation with city officials was productive: "The public can sleep easily knowing that heavily armed men will be guarding all cultural events downtown. The streets, and our paychecks, are secure."

Some were worried that Benjamin Spillman, the R-J reporter who wrote the story that contained the $66-an-hour fact, might also be the target of several dozen police-issued firearms. But a confidential police source said Spillman did not need to worry.

"Fuck, that Mower kid's still alive, right?" he said, referring to Lawrence Mower, who wrote an in-depth investigative series about how Las Vegas police frequently shoot innocent, unarmed people or violate department shooting policies but face no consequences.

"Sure, people still read the newspaper sometimes, but it doesn't have the impact it used to," said the source.

Meanwhile, he said, Isbutt's various social media accounts had as many as 3,000 followers. Add that to a dangerous fact and there's no telling how much damage Isbutt could've done, the source said.

"Good God," he said. "What if that arts guy had Tweeted something?"

The worst street names in the world

An errand yesterday took me to a subdivision I'd never seen before where the streets were named for qualities the houses lacked. There was Captivating Avenue and Entrancing Avenue. Lively Court. Novel Court. Pleasing Court. It was ghastly.

But I guess honest names — McMansion Way, Cookie Cutter Lane, Cheap Stucco Boulevard — were simply out of the question. I'd still take any of those over Alluring Avenue. Hell, I'd even prefer to live on Cheap Chinese Drywall Circle.

It was the subdivision next door, though, that really set a new low.

They drew names from decorative touches you might find on a house. Niche Avenue. Column Court. Balcony Trellis Avenue. Yes, Balcony Trellis Avenue.  It's a real street.

Put yourself in the shoes of a homeowner there. Your house has plummeted in value. You're way upside down on the mortgage. You're in a neighborhood of cloned stucco shoeboxes, many of which are empty, perhaps foreclosed. You're way out on the edge of town where all the growth used to be, but those days may be gone for good.

And you live on a street called "Musical Mantle."

Give up, dude.

Clustercluck

Stories about this topic — a Senate candidate who championed bartering as a means of controlling health care costs  — led to this story, which is about people wearing chicken suits when they vote.

Requisite warning label: Bad jokes abound. However, I quite liked this line: "It seems Secretary of State Ross Miller's ban did not stop some peeps from flocking to vote Wednesday."

It's fair to say there are some significant First Amendment issues to drill into here, so naturally the first thing I did was look for places to get a chicken costume. Tip: Don't type "chicken suit" into Google, because all you get are a bunch of tuxedo rental stores.

I didn't have much luck, but I did find this.

Meet Juicy Lucy

After almost three years in Vegas, I assumed you just get a little more jaded about these things, but I was driving down Tropicana the other day and HOLY CRAP! Is that a woman diagrammed as a piece of meat?

Yep. Sure is. That's Juicy Lucy, the mascot for Grind Burger Bar and Lounge. Yes, that's her real name.

So score some points for being attention-grabbing (hey, I'm writing about it, right?). But this is probably how cannibalistic serial killers look at their victims — and you make it the public face of your restaurant?

There's been a bit of an outcry, such as this commentary in the UNLV paper. The R-J turned it into a debate on free speech, calling those who don't like the mascot "prudes." And it gets a mention in a restaurant review that says the burgers are pretty darn good.

The points have already been made about objectifying women and viewing women solely as sources of pleasure and meeters of a man's needs (in this case, his need for tasty meat, apparently). I'll add another criticism: It's lazy.

It seems people here think the only way to attract attention is to show a scantily clad woman. Some examples are here (the slutty cop at the bail shop will always be my favorite). And then there's this billboard:

Think about the money that goes into putting up a billboard advertisement. They went to all that trouble, and all anyone could come with as a concept is, "Looky here! Tits!"

Naturally, Grind House has an online store, but there's one critical difference — on the merchandise, Lucy's actually naked. I guess someone figured that a giant balloon depicting a woman headed for the butcher's knife might be offensive if she wasn't at least wearing a thong.

Okay, so I took a year off

Seems longer. But this city is still as senseless as ever, so I'll take a stab at being more consistent.

For some reason, I'm reminded of the rock star in The Restaurant at the End of the Universe who was spending a year dead for tax reasons. Funny guy, that Douglas Adams.

Vegas defined

So I was chatting with a friend the other day about bad places to raise your kids. Our list included Las Vegas, Rio and New Orleans, but I wasn't thrilled about the Big Easy being on the list because there's at least good music and food there. Then I mentioned that I'd been hungering for some red beans and rice.

HER: No one really likes red beans and rice.
ME: Watch your mouth, missy.
HER: Or else what?
ME: Or else I'll say, "You ain't got no brains, anyhow."
HER: Who needs brains when you have a nice rack?

Some people were born for Vegas. They just haven't made it here yet.