Thanksgiving: Let’s roast those who ruffled our feathers

OK, so maybe snark isn't what the Pilgrims had in mind when, as the history books tell us, they sat down with a few of their new Native American buds to create what we know as the first Thanksgiving.

It could have been, though, people being what they are. You just know somebody had to be muttering about William Bradford's lame toast, or how, after all that traveling, they couldn't believe eel was actually on the menu.

But none of that will prevent us from using this year's upcoming day of thanks to roast a few of the human turkeys whom we have found so infuriating over the past 12 months.

So, we begin ...

NEVADA LEGISLATORS

For so many things, really. But, this year, we'd like to focus on lawmakers' weakening of the Nevada Clean Indoor Act, which voters adopted in 2006 and which prohibited smoking in most public places, including bars and taverns that served food, in an effort to protect patrons from secondhand smoke.

Granted, the law created problems for bar owners because it prevented food service in a bar that also hosted patrons who might enjoy a smoke while playing, say, a video poker machine. Some bars halted food service because of the law. A few even expensively retrofitted their bars to create physically separate dining areas.

Anyway, bar owners didn't care for the law. And, this year, the Legislature modified the law to again allow smoking in bars that serve food.

We appreciate both the financial stress the original law caused for bar owners and the hardship the modified law creates for nonsmokers who don't wish the aroma of their burger to be subsumed by tobacco smoke. But here's our point: The original law was adopted by popular vote -- that is, by Nevadans going directly to the ballot box to say they wanted it -- and, in weakening it this past legislative session, Nevada legislators went against what was, in its most true sense, the will of the people.

Show of hands: How many of you who voted for the original law knew they could even do that? Right. And how many of you knew they were going to do it this session and didn't find out about it until it was too late? Exactly.

Politicians love to give fawning lip service to "the will of the people." Here, they directly reversed the will of the people all by their lonesome.

So, to legislators, we this year offer a dinner of turkey smoked not with aromatic hickory, but a few cartons of Marlboros rubbed all over it and then cooked with a few Zippo lighters. Mmm, mmm, good!

MUSCULAR DYSTROPHY ASSOCIATION

Say what you will about Jerry Lewis -- and we know lots of people with some amazing stories of encounters with the man -- but nobody can deny that without the veteran actor/comedian/director's single-minded determination, muscular dystrophy would be as well-known to the average American as beriberi.

Over the course of more than four decades, Lewis has devoted himself to finding a cure for MD, and his annual Labor Day telethons for MDA have raised more than $1.66 billion -- that's right, "billion" with a "b" -- toward that end.

Along the way, Lewis' annual telethons served for generations of Americans as an end-of-summer ritual -- for many of us, the new school year started only after Jer hit those final notes of "You'll Never Walk Alone" -- as well as the most unpredictable, and occasionally most bizarre, variety show on television.

Then, earlier this year, the MDA booted Lewis both as telethon host and as national MDA chairman. Sure, this year's shortened (from an epic 20 hours down to a measly six) telethon raised about $61.5 million, about $2.6 million more than last year's. But it was, frankly, a boring affair bereft of the unpredictability, even danger, that Lewis brought to it.

Nobody has talked about why the changes were made, and it's certainly possible that Jerry's ego or need for control had something to do with it. But, boy, what a lame, undeserved end the MDA gave to a guy to whom they owe just about everything.

So, to the MDA, we offer a soy turkey: It looks like a turkey, but, really, it's nothing at all like it.

STEVE WYRICK

Steve Wyrick is the peripatetic magician who has fronted four shows at four venues around town, including, for a time, his own Steve Wyrick Theatre at the Miracle Mile Shops at Planet Hollywood Resort.

Problem is, none of those shows ever caught fire with the public. An even bigger problem is that, when Wyrick inevitably packs it in, others are left holding the bag.

Most recently, when Wyrick's pay-to-play deal at the Las Vegas Hilton went belly up -- technically, all involved say it's on "hiatus" -- in September, his cast of young performers still was waiting for paychecks two weeks later, and this after they'd already agreed to take reduced pay during rehearsals.

This seems to be a pattern for Wyrick, who lost the Planet Hollywood Resort venue and opened the Las Vegas Hilton show only after headlining in bankruptcy court.

We know show biz is rough and we have no idea whether Wyrick has just had bad luck or if he's a star only in his own mind. And, hey, if you have oodles of your own money to spend trying to become famous, knock yourself out. It worked for Pia Zadora. But if you don't have money of your own or a rich spouse, don't leverage other people's dreams as part of your business-as-usual plan.

So, to Wyrick, we offer a disappearing turkey purchased with the invisible cash his cast never had a chance to see.

UNITED FOOTBALL LEAGUE

The United Football League fashioned itself as an alternative to the NFL. And, in its 2011 season, its third, the UFL seemed poised to take up the slack when it looked as though labor problems might force the NFL to cancel at least a few games of its own season.

That didn't happen, of course, and the already-iffy UFL was forced to cut its roster of teams, from five last season to four this season. Even more embarrassing, the league, in a cost-saving move, canceled the final two weeks of its 2011 season, moving right to the championship game between the two-time champion Las Vegas Locomotives and the Virginia Destroyers.

Which, by the way, the Locos lost. Grrrr.

UFL executives say the league will be back next season, but nobody would be terribly surprised if the UFL went the way of the USFL, the WFL, the XFL and others interred in the graveyard of would-be NFL challengers.

So, we offer a processed turkey roll for the UFL's Thanksgiving training table, in lieu of a full-priced turkey with trimmings that the league probably can't afford.

CERTAIN CLARK COUNTY FIREFIGHTERS

We like firefighters. We respect firefighters. Who doesn't?

But we neither like nor respect firefighters who choose to treat the public till like a kid's piggy bank.

This year, two Clark County firefighters -- Battalion Chief Renee Dillingham and firefighter Donald Munn -- were fired for misusing sick leave. That violated the firefighters union's labor contract. It was dishonest. And it was expensive for taxpayers, because firefighters who take sick leave usually are replaced by fill-ins who are paid overtime, usually over the course of a 24-hour period.

While they were the only two firefighters disciplined after a county investigation of sick leave abuse, others may have been disciplined, too. However, county officials said personnel privacy rules prevented the release of others' names.

It's all pretty infuriating, but not as infuriating as this: Dillingham and Munn, even after being fired, received $120,000 in severance pay and qualified for pensions -- the same that they would have gotten if they had not left the department under a cloud.

For taxpayers -- and anybody who respects firefighters for the work they do -- it's insult added to injury on top of outrage, and it's a slap in the face of every other honorable firefighter.

So, to those presumably few who put paychecks above integrity, we offer a dozen organic, free-range, 50-pound turkeys stuffed with the finest truffles, foie gras and caviar. Then we offer them the bill because they certainly can afford to pay for it themselves.

JIM RHODES

There are some nature-loving Southern Nevadans who'd maintain that developer Jim Rhodes never met a patch of natural landscape that he didn't want to turn into something else.

And we understand that. Development, for good or bad, has been a part of Southern Nevada's societal landscape ever since the first Paiute passer-by set up a domicile to keep the sun at bay. But sometimes, it seems, a developer's eagerness can overtake his eye for detail.

About three months ago, Rhodes won approval for a concept plan to develop 4,700 homes and lots of other stuff on a former gypsum mining site on Blue Diamond hill. However, Clark County commissioners in August placed a condition on the project that Rhodes couldn't access the property via Highway 159, a scenic route adjacent to Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area, and also required that he obtain right-of-way access across Bureau of Land Management property.

However, Rhodes now wants waivers to those two conditions that the county placed on his project. Another meeting is scheduled to be held in January, and it's a safe bet it'll be a heated one as opponents of Rhodes' plan continue their quest to, as they view it, protect Red Rock Canyon.

But, in the meantime, we offer Rhodes a Thanksgiving dinner of turkey. No, wait, ham. Or turkey and ham, and maybe duck, too. We can always change our order later, right?

JOHN ENSIGN

Consider this a valedictory (we hope) send-off to a man who so ably defines the word "turkey" and many other words we're unable to use in a family newspaper.

A brief recap: Ensign has an affair with the wife of his best friend (both of whom, by the way, work on his staff). Hubby leaves Ensign's employ, so Ensign lines up lobbying contacts for him. Faced with allegations of the affair and buy-off, Ensign eventually admits to the affair but, otherwise, goes into denial mode. The Federal Elections Commission dismisses a complaint against him, and the Justice Department initially passes on an indictment, but Senate ethics investigators reportedly uncover "substantial" evidence that Ensign may have committed conspiracy, obstructed justice and made false statements as part of an alleged cover-up of the entire mess. Finally, on May 3, dominoes fall, doody hits the fan and Ensign formally resigns a hop, skip and a jump ahead of formal Senate action. (The Justice Department said it planned to review the Senate findings, too.)

OK, the sliminess -- even such multilayered, uberslimy sliminess -- we understand. He was, you know, a politician. But it also must be noted that Ensign always was among the Senate's most egregiously sanctimonious members, palming himself off as a good Christian and, if memory serves, was particularly brutal in attacking Bill Clinton's equally squicky dalliance with an intern.

"Turkey" is one word to describe it. "Hypocrite" is another.

So, to Ensign, we offer a turkey fried in a nice black kettle so that he'll be reminded of that pot/kettle thing as he enjoys his deserved obscurity.

Contact reporter John Przybys at jprzybys@review journal.com or 702-383-0280.