Advice for Tuesday’s winners: Don’t get puffed up with any false sense of entitlement. Just because voters elected you to office doesn’t mean they believe you deserve any special privileges. Winners need to realize that deep within the smelly swamp of entitlement awaits the potential of indictments.
News Columns
If you haven’t heard — or are really good at using your remote control to flip off those TV political ads — the country will elect a new president Tuesday.
Mayor Oscar Goodman spent Thursday morning with 400 children at the Mayor’s Prayer Breakfast and it was only 11:30 a.m., so I doubted he was impaired.
Back before he was mayor of Las Vegas, when he was the city’s leading mob attorney, Oscar Goodman insisted he didn’t represent snitches.
He represented Frank Rosenthal. Now that Rosenthal is dead, three former law enforcement sources with first-hand knowledge confirmed what was long suspected. Lefty Rosenthal was an FBI informant, whether his attorney knew it or not.
This week, readers want to know how the law defines running a red light and what the Nevada Department of Motor Vehicles will do when it runs through license plates that begin with “Z.” And the Road Warrior offers a special Spook ‘n’ Boo version of Hit ‘n’ Run in preparation for Friday’s scare-fest.
If a male candidate calls a female candidate “an idiot,” does that make him a sexist? What if a woman calls another woman “an idiot”?
I was driving north on Martin Luther King Boulevard when I looked in the rearview mirror to see three teenage girls in a silver Mercedes sedan motoring behind me.
A hearty “thank you” must go out to the single individual who has done the most to improve the Nevada judiciary: Elizabeth Halverson.
Briefly, before heading out to the Sarah Palin rally, I contemplated accessorizing with a button boldly broadcasting “Cat Lovers For Obama,” but figured I’d get the ever lovin’ crap beat out of me if I did. Discretion prevailed, so as not to alienate dog-loving Republicans.
This week readers want to know about the construction on U.S. Highway 95, between Russell and Sunset roads; whether there are any laws governing jogging or walking in the streets; and who handles road kill in the valley.
For a few minutes, it was just three women chatting about what we’d do if we were 21 again, entering the job market in today’s newspaper business, instead of in our 50s and already established journalists.
Last October, I remember thinking that $2.77 was an outrageously high price for a gallon of regular gasoline.
The few times Frank “Lefty” Rosenthal and I spoke, he looked at me as if I were a worm he’d like to step on, except the ensuing goo would dirty the sole of his shoe. Actually, I found the fastidious Rosenthal scarier than mobster Anthony Spilotro, and no one accused Rosenthal of killing dozens of people.
