Posted November 19, 2007 in News


The 2007 edition of The Guinness Book of World Records is out, and there, listed among such intellectual detritus as World’s Longest Ear Hair and Most Successful Parasitic Worm (Human), are the accomplishments of two IE men: 41-year-old Paul Dean of Riverside, who holds the highest score on the ‘80s arcade game Spy Hunter, and 36-year-old Jim Belsito of Rialto, who at an April tournament set record scores on three different pinball machines. But these Nobel-worthy achievements pale when we find that this is the first time in 20 years Guinness has included a section documenting high game scores. “I was basically ignored for many years,” Dean remarks to the Riverside Press-Enterprise, his arms likely raised overhead in a Rocky-esque pose as tears of painful recognition undoubtedly stream down the faces of P-E readers (cue swelling violin SFX). To absolutely no one’s surprise, both men are single—Dean lives with his father—and Belsito calls his pinball-packed palace “the ultimate bachelor pad,” which we assume is coded phrase for “I cannot get laid to save my life.”



Lord knows the westernmost half of the IE can use a lot of things other regions take for granted—more live music rooms, a decent, thought-provoking indie theater scene (hell, we’ll settle for halfway decent), maybe about 10 more Wahoo’s Fish Taco locales. We recall the hubbub some months ago when a P.F. Chang’s opened in Rancho Cucamonga, and people practically wet themselves with IE-is-finally-getting-noticed! gobbledygook. Some things, though, just don’t belong here. Clydesdale horses, for one, but today we get word that just such a beast will be appearing at Victoria Gardens this Monday evening as part of a Budweiser promotion. Clydesdales, though, are cold-weather animals originally bred in Scotland, and if Monday’s weather is typical for an IE September—that would be hot and hotter—how will parents explain to their horrified little Johnnys and Janes when the horse melts into a puddle of Elmer’s? Then there’s the marathon race, slated to be run through Riverside and Moreno Valley on December 3 (though assorted red tape will probably change things). Hordes of people sucking down 26 miles worth of some of the most polluted, foul air in the world? Forget the strategically-placed water tables—gimme an oxygen tank. Rundown has a way to make the race more interesting: route the marathon instead through eternally toxic and truck-clogged Glen Avon and Mira Loma—whoever dies of cancer last wins!



San Bernardino County Supervisor John Tavaglione is a dick. Rundown is reminded of this when a press release from the fine people at the Center for Community Action and Environmental Justice lands in our inbox. Yesterday, the CCAEJ unveiled banners in Mira Loma Village that blare, in English and Spanish, NO MORE WAREHOUSES, NO MORE TRUCKS, NO MORE ASTHMA. That’s because Mira Loma Village’s mostly poor and working-class residents are forced to inhale toxic fumes from all the diesel-spewing trucks that drive through their neighborhood every day—more than 800 an hour, according to one USC study. The trucks come and go from huge mega-warehouses that keep being built in the area, which are approved by Tavaglione—a dick—and other supes. We also read a Tavaglione quote from April, where he feigned ignorance about putting diesel sources next to people’s houses: “What we know today about diesel emissions and trucks, we didn’t know back then [when they were approved] and have only known in the last five or six years. I’m sure things would have been different [if we wanted to build] today with the information we have now.” Gee—thanks! The CCAEJ also reports findings from their own study, which says that pollution levels in Mira Loma Village are eight times as high as those measured at the front door of Tavaglione’s house. See? Dicky-dicky-dick-dick!



Governor Grab-Ass—you can call him Schwarzenegger—steps in it again when an audiotape from March surfaces, on which he’s heard lustily raving about Cathedral City Republican Assemblywoman Bonnie Garcia and all her muy caliente Latina spiciness. “(Garcia) maybe is Puerto Rican or the same thing as Cuban,” says the Guv. “I mean, they are all very hot. They have the, you know, part of the black blood in them and part of the Latino blood in them that together makes it.” Schwarzenegger—who has Austrian blood in him, just like Hitler, and fascist dictators are also all very hot—immediately apologized after the tape is made public. Much weirder, though, is Garcia’s reaction to the comments—turns out she’s totally gay for the Governor, with at least one published photo showing her gazing seductively at him through way too much eye shadow. “I have hot junk in my Puerto Rican rump,” Garcia looks like she’s thinking. “Why won’t he touch it? Why won’t he touch my flaming, Tabasco-flavored badonkadonk?” Garcia, proving what a suck-up she is, predictably defends her man like a good GOPer in responding to Phil “Four-Eyes” Angelides’ hissy-fit that Schwarzenegger “has used language that is deeply offensive to all Californians and embarrassed the state.” Angelides, however, remains blissfully unaware that he’s an even bigger tool than Garcia.



Word is out about last night’s grand opening of the new Lewis Family Playhouse at Rancho Cucamonga’s Victoria Gardens Cultural Center, and they’re some pretty damned breathless ones. The Inland Valley Daily Bulletin, for instance, actually prints the sentence, “The community was excited, and it wasn’t just because Sheena Easton was in town.” Writer Wendy Leung reports that many in the audience were “thankful that an entertainment venue has finally reached the Inland Empire” (obviously Bulletin editors have never heard of the Glass House—oh, wait, they mean an entertainment venue for old people), and quotes the Zeigler family, who’ve dragged their 10-year-old son along to see Easton, his first concert, guaranteeing him an adolescence of complete humiliation whenever he’s inevitably asked by that hot chick what his first concert was, forcing him to lie like everybody else and say “Ozzy.” Even though the show is billed as family-friendly, it’s never revealed if Easton performs her Prince-penned ode to rug-munching, “Sugar Walls.”



How can a poor man stand such times and live?



What were we supposed to never forget again? Right: today’s anniversary of that terrible moment when crazed religious zealots slaughtered throngs of innocent civilians—men, women and children—as they were simply trying to travel westward. So call up your local Mormon temple and ask about the Mountain Meadows Massacre.  


Be the first to comment!

You must be logged in to post a comment.