May 9, 2019

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Lame of thrones A bob Grimm rAnt see arts&Culture, page 14

New Fiction by local author Laura Newman

serving northern nevada, tahoe and truckee

EMAil lEttERs to RENolEttERs@NEWsREviEW.CoM.

Game changers Welcome to this week’s Reno News & Review.

In this week’s cover story, I’m pleased to present “The Franklin Avenue Rookery for Wayward Babies,” a new short story by local author Laura Newman. Regular RN&R readers might recognize her as the name to beat in our annual 95-word fiction contest. It’s exciting to premiere such a beautiful story, especially since we so rarely publish fiction.

(Of course, our detractors will probably tell you that 90 percent of what we publish is fiction—“fake news.”)

Also in this week’s issue, our beloved troll Bob Grimm takes on Game of Thrones, a TV show he thinks is grossly overrated.

He’s wrong, of course.

I love Game of Thrones.

Arya Stark is one of my all-time favorite fictional characters. (And I felt that way since long before this season.) Mild spoiler alert: One thing I love about her is that she never stops learning. If you think back to her character arc over the last decade, she manages to learn something from almost every person she encounters: her father, her brothers, Syrio Forel, Yoren, Gendry, Jaqen H’ghar, Tywin Lannister, the Hound, Brienne of Tarth … and on and on. And—MAJOR SPOILER ALERT ’TIL THE END OF THIS PARAGRAPH—that thirst for knowledge eventually empowers her with the skills to defeat death.

One last note: Round One voting has begun for Best of Northern Nevada 2019! Time to nominate your favorite people, places and things from around the region. Head over to bestofnorthern nevada.com and get to it.

—Brad Bynum bradb@ ne wsreview . com

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Fortune teller Fortune Magazine, as conservative, Republican and pro-business a publication as you will ever find, just published (May 2019) its “WORLD’S 50 GREATEST LEADERS” list. Bill and Melinda Gates came in first, Robert Mueller came in third. Donald Trump didn’t even make the list. Enough said.

Alan Alfers Reno

Reporter After reading the redacted Mueller report, one thing is clear to me: our president is a 6-year-old child in what has been up to now a suit of armor made from wealth and celebrity charisma. His biggest fault seems to be an ability to create a fantasy in his head and then convince himself of it. The image that comes to my mind is that of Calvin from the comic strip Calvin and Hobbes. The Mueller report seems to indicate that the president’s motive for all his obstruction was based on his ego and how damaging it all would be for his presidency and legacy. So our “Calvin” put his big brain into action, and here we are with the Mueller report. I think the Republican establishment sees this as well. And Republicans have convinced themselves that propping up one’s own ego isn’t a bad enough motive to do something. But Republicans I know tend to feel a personal responsibility for the Constitution. So, where’s their creativity in finding some way to stop the 6-yearold’s temper tantrum while still getting their courts packed, cronies installed, etc?

Mike Pence is one possible out for them.

All McConnell would need to do is sit the child down in a room and state in no uncertain terms that if he didn’t behave, he would do the impeachment thing and let all the world see that that Emperor Calvin is, in fact, naked as a “jail bird” and that the man standing behind him with the perpetual grin will be handed the

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To have a positive impact on our communities and make them better places to live.

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keys to the playroom. I personally hope that scenario doesn’t play out because Mike Pence scares me to my soul, but I wonder why the Republican adults in the room aren’t finding some way to stop what they obviously know to be a 6-yearold mentality who is currently driving the bus. Maybe they’re as scared of Mr. Pence as I am?

Michael Rottmann Virginia City Highlands

Seniors in chains Most citizens do not realize that Medicare Advantage Plans (MAPs) are exempt from State regulations. MAPs are the fastest growing segment in seniors’ medical help. MAPs answer only to Medicare. The problem with that is Medicare depends on the MAPs to deliver medical care. Medicare will not touch them. In the 2018 membership meetings, Senior Care Plus made a few statements that were not entirely true. I called this to their attention. The exchange of letters became heated. They finally told me if I mentioned my grievance again on social media, by email or letter that they would eject me from their plan. It was a vicious letter. I wrote to every state representative: the governor, the DA and the state senators, but no one responded for my call for help. I decided to picket-protest at age of 74 years until I die. I have a schedule. I bought professionally made signs. I protest two times a week at various places in Sparks, Reno and Carson City.

Charles Wayne Barnum Sparks

Human being Re “What’s your problem” (Notes from the Neon Babylon, May 02): Overpopulation?!? Bruce thinks Earth is overpopulated with humanity. Not with cockroaches, rats, fleas, worms or

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sheep but with humanity. Has this guy not looked out the window in an airplane lately? The vast majority of Earth’s land surface is uninhabited by us! The entire human population of the globe could fit in the Grand Canyon. He thinks an ideal number is 50-100 million. The United States, a relatively sparsely populated country with a lot of wide open space, has 350 million. He wants less than a third of that for the entire planet! Insane.

As for our “Sex Itch,” there’s an invention called birth control!

Don Manning Reno

ContentS

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opiNioN/stREEtAlk shEilA lEsliE NEWs tAhoE fEAtuRE ARts&CultuRE ARt of thE stAtE filM fooD MusiCBEAt NightCluBs/CAsiNos this WEEk ADviCE goDDEss fREE Will AstRology 15 MiNutEs BRuCE vAN DykE

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by matt bieker

Favorite fictional character? asKed aT The glass die, 675 holcomb ave.

K ayl a WicKs Sales Representative

Frodo Baggins. Lord of the Rings has always been one of my all-time favorites, and I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up so I found a friendship with him and Sam.

Jed locquiao PhD candidate

Probably the Dungeons and Dragons characters that I play with. We get around a group of four or five people. We chat around the table, and we roll dice, but I’ve found those are my favorite characters because they’re part of ourselves.

audre l arge

House of cards Affordable housing is arguably the biggest ongoing crisis longer commutes, which are, among other things, bad for in Northern Nevada today. Every week, we hear stories the environment.) about renters who are either priced out of their homes by And as Reno’s creative class moves away from rising rents or are simply asked to leave by landlords who the urban core, it means that many of the things that think—correctly—that they can boot out their current are appealing about the culture of the city—innovative tenants, give their properties a quick repaint, raise the rents restaurants, exciting theater, vibrant murals, exhilarating and move in some nice fresh-off-the-Cali-boat residents to music—will start to leave, too. pay the new rent, because, hey, it’s still cheaper than San And the problem of rising rents is even worse for the Francisco. people at the very bottom of the region’s economic We hear these stories all the time from readstrata. They might have nowhere to live at all. ers and local residents, like Brooke Noble, We support Senate Bill 398, Senator the subject of this week’s news story, and Julia Ratti’s bill which would add clarifywe also hear them from our own friends ing language to Nevada Regulatory There is a real and neighbors.

Statutes to affirm that local jurisdictions schism in this And the accountability buck gets do have the authority—and the responpassed. State officials say that it’s up sibility—to develop affordable housing. community, and it’s to city and county governments to deal Of course, the law already “authorizes growing wider. with the affordable housing problem, a board of county commissioners or the and local city officials say the issue is governing body of an incorporated city beyond their jurisdiction. After hearing to exercise powers necessary or proper to about her massive rent increase, Noble said address matters of local concern, whether or a local city councilmember told her, “our hands not such powers are expressly granted to the board are tied,” like some kind of retail assistant manager who or governing body.” Still, SB 398 would clearly assign didn’t want to deal with the hassle of a complicated accountability to city and county governments on an issue return. that they sometimes like to pretend is out of their hands.

There is a real schism in this community, and it’s But we wonder if the bill goes far enough. It’s still up growing wider: the gap between landlords and renters. to city government to take action on affordable housing.

And as rents continue to rise, more and more members And although city officials might say that their hands are of Reno’s creative class are moving away—either out of tied, in reality, they’re the ones holding the ropes. Ω the area altogether or out into the suburbs. (Which means

Production Associate

My favorite is Harley Quinn, because she doesn’t care what anyone thinks.

Tim robinson Educator

Probably Owen Meany from A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving. He’s a little bit different from the norm and, without ruining anything for anyone, he saves the day, and it makes you think about how your perceptions might be misplaced based on how someone might look. ma x sTahl Nutritionist

Goku [from Dragonball Z]. Not only does he show true discipline when he works out, but he’s also essentially an inspiration for many young males for fitness, good intentions, good will. He’s a jokester even though he has to deal with such serious scenarios.

All around, a good character.

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BEST o f n o rt h e r n neva da

2019

The RN&R’s annual reader survey is the region’s largest, longest-running and most definitive popularity contest.

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The fiRsT RouNd of voTiNg is an openballot primary where readers can write in and vote for their favorite businesses, personalities, animals, minerals and abstract concepts. voting for the first round begins May 2 and ends June 6. foR The secoNd RouNd, voters will select the winners from a small group of finalists. The final round will begin June 20 and end July 18.

One ballot per email address per round.

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by SHEILA LESLIE

Tyrone Thompson 1967-2019 It’s been an emotionally traumatic legislative session this year, starting with the abrupt resignation of Senate Majority Leader Kelvin Atkinson after an FBI investigation found he had diverted hundreds of thousands of campaign dollars for his personal use, followed by the equally sudden resignation of Assemblymember Mike Sprinkle after multiple reports of sexual harassment.

These were shocking events that shook the legislative building and its insular culture, but the unexpected and stunning death of Assemblyman Tyrone Thompson on Saturday morning was nearly impossible to absorb.

Thompson, a Democrat from North Las Vegas, was universally loved for his passionate public service, especially his commitment to education and helping struggling and vulnerable populations. He was in the midst of his fourth legislative session, chairing the Assembly Education Committee, intensely involved in bills to improve education, the criminal

justice system and homeless services.

On Saturday, many people learned of his death via social media as I did, a brutal communication mechanism that left me hoping desperately that such a tragedy could not be true. He was only 51.

Throughout the weekend, tributes poured in from every quarter, from Republicans and Democrats alike, from education advocates and those concerned with homelessness, from lobbyists, his church family and the Clark County community at-large. Everyone had a story to tell and a selfie to share of a man who unabashedly lived his values, known to everyone for his humility and dedication, his kindness and generosity, and his colossal, electric smile.

I met Thompson many years ago when we both worked closely with Shannon West to mobilize more resources for homeless youth throughout the state. West was another community legend lost far too soon, dying at age 45 from breast cancer.

Thompson’s vision and dedication to

vulnerable homeless kids was unwavering despite his overwhelming grief when West died. He continued on with his life’s work, honoring his mentor’s legacy by helping to build the Shannon West Homeless Youth Center and pursuing public service wherever it led him. When he was appointed to fill the Assembly seat vacated

by Steven Brooks, who resigned due to significant mental health issues in 2013, it seemed like the logical next step in his mission to make our state a better place to live for those struggling Nevadans many elected leaders choose to forget.

Reading comments after Thompson’s death, I learned a lot more about him, but none of it surprised me, for he lived so authentically, never asking others to do more than he did himself. He was a court appointed special advocate for almost two decades, serving as the voice of children involved in difficult foster care situations, who were lost in the maze of the family court system until Thompson became their champion. He volunteered for his church

and was ubiquitous on social media, appearing at every community event with a huge, infectious grin, his arms wrapped around his friends and constituents. You can tell by looking at the endless selfies how much he loved his community and how much he was, in turn, truly loved.

Many people have suggested a school be named after Thompson to publicly cherish his memory and inspire future generations of kids to strive for service instead of glory.

It’s an honor I wholeheartedly endorse.

Thompson leaves a legacy anyone would be proud of, serving as a role model to so many and empowering youth especially to reach for the stars. His was a life well lived, a shining example of service that won’t soon be forgotten.

One wonders how devastated and grieving legislators will carry on this last month of the 2019 session as the legislature winds down, final weeks that are often filled with tension and conflict.

Somehow, they will. They must. Tyrone Thompson would expect no less. Ω

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by Jeri Chadwell

LawLessness

Rental rates all over the valley are leading some people to move to the suburbs and others to leave Reno all together.

Nevada sheriffs in at least six counties—Douglas, Elko, Eureka, Lyon, Nye and Pershing—have said they will not enforce a law providing for gun background checks on gun purchases when it takes effect in January.

These sheriffs represent the following numbers of people, and the following percentages of the state population: Douglas 49,070/ 1.6 percent Elko 54,326/ 1.7 percent Eureka 1,951/ 0.06 percent Lyon 55,551/ 1.8 percent Nye 47,856/ 1.5 percent Pershing 6,858/ 0.22 percent This is the number of Nevadans who voted for background checks and the percentage they made up of those voting on that ballot measure: 558,631/50.45 percent.

Some of the sheriffs say their counties did not vote for the measure, so they should not have to enforce the new state law. Some of them also say that, although they are executive branch officials and therefore charged with enforcing the laws, they can decide for themselves whether laws are constitutional.

PHOTO/JERI CHADWELL

Fuming The top executives in the corporations that own Nevada Power and the Storey County Tesla plant squared off over the weekend.

At an annual shareholders meeting of Berkshire Hathaway, parent corporation of the Nevada power utility, Warren Buffett expressed doubts about Tesla CEO Elon Musk’s announced plans to create his own insurance product, a response to the higher rates Tesla owners must pay.

“The success of the auto companies getting into the insurance business is probably as likely as the success of the insurance companies getting into the auto business, Buffet said. “I’d bet against any company in the auto business” that gets into the insurance field.

Buffet’s observation may have been fueled by the fact that his Berkshire Hathaway umbrella firm also owns Geico.

Musk later responded with something of a non-sequitur tweet that read Buffet believes a Tesla is “1,000 times more fun” than a Honda.

—Dennis Myers

HigH FLying The City of Reno sent out a press release on May 7 announcing that the Nevada Institute for Autonomous Systems had, earlier this year, been selected by the National Aeronautics and Space Administration to participate in a drone operation that will test flying in higher-density urban areas.

According to the press release, “The City of Reno is a participant in this program and will help facilitate testing in the downtown Reno area, from May 11-24, 2019.”

This will include street closures on Virginia Street from Mill Street to Second Street and Mastroianni Drive near Idlewild on certain days during the hours of 6 a.m. to 3 p.m. Flying times will be restricted in these areas to avoid interfering with Food Truck Fridays and the Hot August Nights Spring Fever Revival.

—Jeri ChaDwell

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At this rate Renters wonder who will address concerns of spiking costs Brooke noble has lived in Reno for about a decade—and in the same onebedroom apartment for four years. As a longtime renter, she’s used to the fact that apartment units often go up a bit in cost from year to year. But this year, she was shocked by just how much.

“There’s an annual increase, but it’s usually, you know, 50 dollars or something that it goes up,” she said. “So this year when it went up 350 dollars at once, I was a little surprised.”

Actually, surprised doesn’t cover it. When Noble found out her rent was going up nearly 44 percent at once—from $750 to $1050—she was outraged and turned to social media and local news outlets to talk about it.

On April 26, she talked with television station KTVN—explaining that she’ll have to move from the neighborhood she loves and relocate near Verdi.

Noble feels like she’s losing more than the place she calls home.

“This is just where my friends are, my community,” she said. “Pretty much since I moved to Reno, I’ve lived in this neighborhood. I know a lot of people in this immediate area, a lot of the neighbors, the people around here. And everybody in this building has been pretty close. We play board games and barbecue. We’re those kind of neighbors.”

Or they were. According to Noble, after she went on television, the neighbors in her four-unit apartment complex were given notices of non-renewal on their leases. Save for one person, they, like Noble, must all find new places to live by the end of the month.

“Actually, my upstairs neighbors’ rent was not going up as much, and they were going to accept the increase,” Noble said. “But after the KTVN story, everybody got an email that their leases weren’t going to be renewed. So there was previously an

offer to extend the lease, and then, after the KTVN story, they retracted that from everybody and gave everybody 30 days.”

Noble also received another notice that day—a cease and desist from attorney Mark Smallhouse, the legal representation for Erica Mirich and Sean Martin, the landlords. The letter argues that the rent increase on Noble’s unit is in line with current market trends for the area. It reads in part: “It is unfortunate that you have personally attacked Ms. Mirich by sending untrue and libelous emails to Ms. Mirich’s employer Truckee Meadows Tomorrow. You have also threatened additional personal attacks on Ms. Mirich and Mr. Martin by going to the press and threatening to go to the Reno’s Mayors [sic] Office.”

The letter ends by stating that further actions by Noble would be met with legal action by her landlords.

Asked for comment on the cease and desist letter, Smallhouse responded via email, writing, “Yes, I did send a letter to Ms. Noble. Unfortunately, she was paying significantly below-market rent for her apartment in the Midtown area. Her lease was due to expire, and my client, who purchased the building during the last lease term, sought to raise the rent to its current fair market value, and was planning a number of improvements to the complex. Ms. Noble lives in a 4-plex. My client has rented other units in the 4-plex at a higher rate of rent, and has had a waiting list for those units. The increase in rent was based upon surveys of similar rental units in the area.”

After receiving the letter, Noble did to go to the City of Reno with her concerns, though not to the mayor’s office directly.

“I took this issue to City Council and to Oscar Delgado,” she said.

“And his office called me back and let me know, you know, the city is actually powerless on doing anything about rent control or rent stabilization—or anything to control the rents in this town. They told me their hands are tied.”

The City of Reno is among many municipalities in Nevada that hold the view that the addition of clarifying language within Nevada Regulatory Statutes is necessary to authorize them to take action on affordable housing. It

is the position of legal counsel for the State family. Affordable housing has hit our city of Nevada that existing law already allows hard, and SB 398 aims to give local governcities and counties to pass affordable housments broader authority to address this ing policies such as inclusionary zoning and policy challenge at the local level. While rent control without approval from the state. lawyers can debate about the specific need That’s because existing law already “authofor legislation like this, the bill itself will rizes a board of county commissioners or bring clarity that this is an issue that cities the governing body of an incorporated city play a big role in fighting.” to exercise powers necessary or proper to Noble said she’s hoping SB 398 will pass, address matters of local concern, though she doesn’t think it’ll be a magic whether or not such powers bullet for the affordable housing are expressly granted to the crisis. Her new rental unit is board or governing body.” smaller and cheaper, and But the legal counsels of she’s thinking about using some cities and counthe money she’ll save to ties disagree. eventually put a down Senate Bill 398, payment on a condo. sponsored by Senator “That might be the Julia Ratti, is intended way I go—because I to address this. The don’t know if things are bill, which has made it going to improve,” she Brooke Noble through the Senate and said. “Even if this bill Renter is now in the Assembly does pass, what is it going Government Affairs to be like to get a resolution committee, would amend state passed through city council, statutes to specifically include and what is that going to look like? affordable housing as a matter of local Are rents going to go down? Are they concern. Asked for the city’s position on going to be capped? I don’t know what’s whether this clarifying language is necesgoing to happen.” Ω sary, Director of the Office of Policy and Strategy Dylan Shaver made the following statement: “The City of Reno supports any legislaLearn more about Senate Bill 398 here: bit.ly/2V6tFDF. tion that enhances or clarifies our ability and authority to provide service to our Reno

“This is just where my friends are, my community.”

right to assemble

On May 7, protestors gathered outside of the Bruce R. Thompson U.S. Courthouse and Federal building at 400 S. Virginia St., carrying signs calling for the release of the unredacted Mueller report and the president’s impeachment.

The protest comes one day before congress is scheduled to vote on whether Attorney General William Barr should be held in contempt for denying a subpoena to provide the full report.

Photo/Matt Bieker

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tahoe

by Oliver Guinan

Made in Tahoe Festival features locals’ art.

COURTESY/hannah pEnCE, SqUaw VallEY alpinE MEadOwS

On the make Made in Tahoe Festival As I write this I’m having trouble breathing through my nose, and my eyes are saturated with allergens. Spring has arrived in Nevada. Among other things, the onset of warm weather is bringing the Sierra’s outstanding snow-sport season to an end.

But a new one is upon us: festival season.

After a long winter spent sculpting, photographing and crafting, Tahoe’s artists and musicians are itching to get outdoors and strut their stuff. Thankfully, Squaw Valley’s Made In Tahoe Festival provides an opportunity for locals to do just that. In its seventh consecutive year, the festival hosts a juried art show with over 100 artists and craftspeople, along with numerous musicians, workshops and wellness events over Memorial Day weekend. Most importantly, everyone participating, from the brewers to the yoga instructors, calls the Tahoe Basin home.

“It’s definitely my favorite festival of the year,” said Dan Gaube, who is returning to Made In Tahoe for his fourth year in a row. Gaube is a woodworker with more than a decade of experience who specializes in handmade furniture and fine jewelry.

“The energy of the festival is very special,” he said. “It’s a destination. There is just so much talent, so much love and passion that goes into the art from the local artists up here.”

When I spoke with him, he was enjoying the warm weather at Kings Beach working on new jewelry.

“I’m always inspired by nature, especially up here,” Gaube said. “I try to utilize materials that I find while I’m hiking or at the beach, rather than just buying things, to represent nature and help people remember its importance.”

Gaube is the co-owner of the Mountain Arts Collective Gallery in Truckee, which houses work from 17 local artists, including his own, as well as a rotating guest artist each month. For this year’s festival, Gaube is incorporating his new skills as a silversmith to produce more complex, intricate jewelry than he has before.

“In the past I’ve done mixed media inlays with abalone shells, wood and metal, but now I’m definitely going to be taking it up to another level with the silversmithing,” he explained.

Another artist who will display her work at Made In Tahoe is Marianne Rosenfeld.

Rosenfeld is the owner of Forest Furniture.

She moved to Lake Tahoe from Pittsburgh nearly 40 years ago. In the last decade, she has perfected her brand of charming, rustic cabin furniture and accessories, many of which she builds using vintage skis.

“I love it. I just love it,” she said. “I have two shows that I just don’t miss. One is the Made In Tahoe Festival, and the other is the Valhalla Holiday Fair. The people who appreciate my work are the ones I’m going to encounter at those shows. The locals who have actually donated my skis and who are interested in my work, I see them every year.”

Although Rosenfeld’s Adirondack style chairs are her most popular pieces, she is most excited to showcase some of her more abstract work, like “The Daphine.” It features one of Rosenfeld’s signature faux granite boulders, which is situated to appear as if it is suspended in the air by an array of tree branches.

Both Rosenfeld and Gaube agree, the Made In Tahoe Festival is organized by locals, for locals and caters to shoppers who share a love of Tahoe’s breathtaking natural beauty and the passionate community of artisans it inspires. Ω

learn more about the Made in Tahoe Festival here: bit.ly/2viJ9Z0.

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“S

New Fiction

by Local Author Laura Newman

ome son of a bitch wet my bed!” That’s me, wakin’ up.

“Oh my God, Katrina, y’all wet the bed again?! You’re 9 years old!” That’s my brother Beau, yellin’ at me. But I don’t wanna talk about it. So I climb right out of that pee puddle. Beau opens the curtains and the sun comes in. I don’t know why my brother is in my room anyway. Where’s Mama at? She’s the one who wakes me up.

Beau tells me to wash up and come straight down for breakfast. Usually Mama does my hair. It’s Sunday so she could be hung over, lying on the floor of her bedroom, the French door with its peeling blue paint open for oxygen. I’ll find her later and tickle her elbow-insides. She hates that!

But she never yells at me like Beau just did.

Beau sets out Cheerios and leftover fried chicken. Well that chicken’s from Willie Mae’s Scotch House so I’m eatin’ that. I don’t wanna eat anything called Cheerios anyway. Don’t tell me how to feel. Beau isn’t talking, he’s just shuffling around like he can’t pick his big black feet up off the ground. “Baa Baa, why aren’t you talkin’ to me?” I ask, and all he says is, “Stop calling me that.” He is flat-out angry today. He slaps a glass of milk down on the table, and Kitten Little jumps up and starts licking up the spill over. I pet her.

Charlie walks in, and he looks at Beau, but he won’t look at me so I know something shitty’s going on. The two of them go over to the kitchen sink and turn away from me, facing out the window, kind of twinned together. My brothers. Baa Baa, I call him that because he looks like Black Sheep in my rhymes book, I don’t know why he doesn’t like that. He has woolly hair. And Charlie, pock marks stitched across his left check, he’s Oriental like the drawings in my Marco Polo book. The two of them stand there looking like the black-and-white yinyang tattoo Charlie has on his shoulder.

Well I can’t do nothin’ about whatever’s bothering those two. I share my cold chicken with Kitten Little.

Beau sends me outside to the garden, which is the size of a pea. The magnolia tree is in bloom—imagine being able to push flowers out of yourself—pink and waxy and smelling faintly like they just got out of the bath. We have a patio of old red brick mossed over and a statue of St. Francis in the corner of the flower beds. Shreds of old Mardi Gras netting from the people who lived here before us still hangs on the fence.

I think about taking the netting down and wrapping it ’round my head like a sultan’s turban, but it’s probably got spiders in it. I sit down and start to color in my paper book of saints.

Color is what I do when things go wrong. If I want to pretend everything is

“Feature tItLe” continued on page xx

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alright I stay in the lines and press softly. I make the gold halos see-through. If I’m feeling blue, I color everything blue. If I’m angry, watch out, that page is going to be so thick you could run a fingernail through the red wax.

I know I was born in the Superdome. My name’s Katrina Theresa. Named after the storm and Mother Theresa. Not the good one.

Just our mother, Theresa Chalfant.

Sometimes I imagine what it must have been like in the Superdome. Mama won’t tell me about it. So I make the story up in my head: I picture the Superdome coming off its foundations, pulled out to sea. A slave ship. The weather is like looking into the round porthole of the washing machines at the launderette.

Inside the Superdome, too many people. It smells like men, hot metal, fried chicken gizzards, people shit. I picture my mom in labor, her hair tied up in her banana-print scarf, kinky hair coming out the top like exclamation points. She has to gulp down those smells. Her legs are spread and some old-men bastards sit on their cots and watch. Women coo around her, put towels on her dark forehead, but the water isn’t cool and the rags smell like old bong water. At last I come out, white hair and blue eyes. No one hears me cry. The slave ship heads into the storm.

After the hurricane all of New Orleans is a rotting bayou. Alligators eat bloatyfloaties like it was lunch at Commander’s Palace. What a feast! Water hyacinth and mosquito fern edge the streets of the Lower Nine. Mold blossoms in flower shapes inside, outside empty houses. Egrets land like angels, flutter their wings in released prayer, fly on. Motor boats putt-putt up and down the waterways, Bring out y’r dead.

I get bored imagining the past and read some of my Classics Illustrated comic books. Finally, I sneak back inside the house. Beau and Charlie are still in the kitchen drinking coffee. As I enter the room, Beau puts sugar into his cup, and when he drinks it, a few grains stick to his lips like glitter. Beau tells me go straight to my room and put on a dress. Charlie is taking me to church. I say nothing. Charlie doesn’t go to church. Mama does. Mama takes me.

I put on my blue check and head back downstairs. But my feet bypass the stairs and go into her room. I see her vanity with the Woolworth’s lipsticks and the printed cardboard box of lavender powder, white satin ribbon on the puff. A box of Dark and Lovely.

Her empty bed is unmade, crazy-quilt askew.

She is on the ground, toes sticking out from the far side of the bed. Wineberry polish. I watched her apply it just last week. I move a little closer. The French door is open and a slice of sunshine turns her skin two different shades of brown, like toast where one side is toastier than the other. She is wearing her Swiss dot nightgown, buttons all the way up the front.

Charlie is at the door before I see her face.

“Let’s go, Katrina, let her sleep.”

Charlie and I walk through the French Quarter to the St. Louis Cathedral. I look in the windows of the shops we pass on Decatur Street. But I’m not looking at the gaudy displays. I’m looking at my reflection. My pale hair in too-tight braids and my clothes, always too big because I’m skinny as a voodoo pin.

My white face blotched with freckles. I look like a girl who lies. If I see a rainbow, that’s all it is. I’m not going over it.

I beg for beignets every time we pass by Café du Monde but I never get ’em.

We pass the Presbytere where Fats Domino’s Katrina-wrecked Steinway lies in requiem. The Steinway took a vow of silence on the day I was born. Fats’ house was in the 9th Ward. On the day after the storm, morning light filtered through Fats’ punched-up roof, spotlighting the underwater piano. A catfish slapped its heavy tail on the ivory keys, and a slow cloud of algae rose instead of melody.

Church is church. Tourists, locals and nuns. Kneel, stand, kneel, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.

This is the body of Christ; this is the blood of Christ. Yuck. I mostly look at the stained glass windows depicting the life of King Louis IX of France. He pooped himself to death in 1270 during the 8th Crusade which somehow translated into making him a saint. Charlie, who hasn’t been to church since his 16th birthday two years ago, listens to the priest and pays to light a long, sallow candle after the service.

The little flame immediately blows out in the wake of a fat white woman, and against the rules, Charlie re-lights the wick. This time the flame takes hold and waves goodbye to us as we turn away.

Charlie doesn’t make me go to Little Saints Sunday School and on the way home we stop at Café du Monde! Under the green-and-white striped awnings I drink chicory coffee for the first time and although I thought chicory was a type of horse like a pinto, it’s not. Turns out beignets are sugar-powdered angels that you eat. The whole experience is more holy, more gratifying to my soul than an hour in that cold cathedral with its roofline of three pointy black witch hats. Hecate and the other two.

As we leave the café the bells of the cathedral chide me, naughty girl, naughty girl.

When we get home Beau tells me Mama is dead. Her body was taken away while we were at church and all I got to say goodbye to were her Wineberry toes.

Two months later

I have cried every day for two months. I look like a snowy barn owl, all big eyes. It is hard for me to understand my brothers. Charlie is 18, and Beau, 19. They are old enough to take possession of me. But they do not. They tried, and I tried to be good as gold. But let’s face it, I’m more like that rack of cheap Black Hills gold they sell at Woolworths, they don’t even put it behind glass. I cuss, I wet the bed, I fling my thoughts to the wind. Boys that age don’t know what to do with little girls. The laundry alone confounds them. And there’s no money.

Even I know that. Even I know what an Eviction Notice is. My brothers are joining the

armed services, and I’m going to The Rookery on Franklin Avenue. They promise to write. I know they will. I nod to the magnolia tree and steal the St. Francis statue, squirrels at his feet, puppy in his arms, birds on his shoulders like Cinderella.

Kitten Little is lost to me.

On the day, Beau and Charlie walk me to The Rookery, my legs don’t work. Head down, I see my skinny knees below the hem of my yellow dress. My kneecaps look like little brains. My knee-brains want to turn around and run the other way. Plus, I’m so mad. A summer butterfly wings by like a sonnet and I cuss at it, call it a shithead. Beau picks me up in his big dark arms and tells me I’m acting like I got Tourette’s. I don’t know what that is, but yeah, I got it bad. “Baa Baa ...” I cry into his shirt that smells like something I am going to miss, and he holds me tight. I’m just a bag of sticks.

The Rookery is a small Catholic orphanage run by three white women: young Sisters Camille and Hope, and Old Sister Lily. I meet them on the front porch. They wear fulllength habits and headpieces that cover their hair, the fabric old and faded to a sad gray, and their hems are frayed. I’m not sure they would let them in at the witch-hat cathedral.

Charlie tells me I am lucky—the Sisters only take in six children at a time, usually babies to be adopted out. I am clearly too old for The Rookery. I turned 10 last week. I’m probably going to be made into a slave. If they think I am going to join them in nun-dom, they got another thing coming.

I sit out on the porch in a wicker rocker, and Old Sister Lily gives me a cola drink in a glass bottle. Beau and Charlie go just inside to the sitting room and sit. It’s a hot day, and the windows are open. Everyone keeps their voices low, but Sister Hope has one of those traveling voices and I catch snitches and snatches. “What a tragedy… ” “We are happy to have her …” “Y’ll’s mother …” “Y’ll’s mother …” “Heroin …”

Heroin! Those fuckers told me it was a heart attack. If I had my crayons and my saints coloring book right now, I’d find a picture of the Virgin Mary, and I’d make her black. I’d give her springy hair and dark eyes. Then I’d get my red crayon and put the flames of Hell around her so thick I’d use my whole stick.

Right over her face. I hate her. I hate her. I hate her. She died and left me at The Rookery with a bunch of penguin kooks.

When I say goodbye to Charlie and Beau I’m crying so hard it’s as if I’m behind a waterfall. They are wavery, already-gone brothers.

Beau tells me he loves me more than football, but I don’t believe him. Charlie tells me not to cuss in front of the Sisters and I tell him go to shit in a bucket. They both hug me so hard all my bones crack, or at least my heart.

Well, life goes on, doesn’t it?

The Rookery is an old house with wood plank floors that talk to each other constantly. The

Turns out beignets are sugarpowdered

angels

that you eat. kitchen is speckled linoleum worn to the nub.

It has nothing to say. I know the floors intimately because it’s my job to clean them. The window frames are painted pink, and there’s house plants everywhere, big Boston ferns that look like banshee heads at twilight. Palms, and purple coleus. Old Sister Lily plays a rickety piano, and all the furniture is comfortable. I am allowed to sit anywhere. The TV is larger than you would think. Both younger Sisters have lap tops. Sister Camille is fond of ’70s and ’80s music, and she takes me with her to Euclid Records, where believe me, nuns don’t usually go. With Sister Hope, I go to the Crescent City farmers’ market, where all the vendors know her and our baskets runneth over for free.

The Sisters gave me a room of my own! It has a small bay window with a seat that lifts up, and I keep my art supplies and St. Francis in there. There are two twin beds, quilts thicker than I am. I have a trove of books—Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens, Anne of Green Gables, and my secret favorite, the baby book— Madeline, about the little French orphan raised by nuns.

I don’t want to say I like it at The Rookery.

The babies are the best part. Aaron, Sarah, Jacob, Charlotte and Suzette. They don’t know they are orphans, so they don’t cry over that.

The Sisters don’t have to ask me to help. I like to give the babies baths, two at a time, bubbles, and powder their backsides until they look like beignets.

I have a regard for nuns, and it isn’t high.

I associate them with a lack of makeup and a ruler that seems to be used for many things, excepting measuring. You don’t need crayons to draw them; a pencil will do. The Rookery nuns are different. They appear to be people.

“The franklin avenue rookery for wayward babies” continued on page 12

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“the franklin avenue rookery for wayward babies” continued from page 11

Of course we go to church. On my first Sunday, I expected we would walk over to the St. Louis Cathedral, but instead we headed two miles straight down our street to the Franklin Avenue Baptist Church. I thought it was a mistake when the Sisters started bouncing the baby strollers up the front steps, but the pastor came out to help us, calling everyone by name and asking about me, “Who’s this here, who’s this here?” His eyebrows shot up when Old Sister Lily said, “Theresa’s girl.” The babies got bundled off to the nursery, and I assumed we would leave and go around the corner to a Catholic church. But no. We went in. I didn’t think nuns were allowed to go there; isn’t that against the law?

The only church I ever met was a cathedral.

Gilt and guilt. This church looked more like a movie theater, full of wood and only one stained glass window with a big white dove. Pretty much like the one on a bar of Dove soap. I’m familiar with a Jesus who hangs on a cross, all skinny wearing some diaper thing, long dirty hair, face down, nails in his hands and feet.

Nails! You better listen up! Look what this man did for you! There was no Jesus on the cross in the Baptist church. How am I supposed to feel bad if I don’t see Suffering Jesus?

The three Sisters from The Rookery and I were just about the only white people there.

Certainly the Sisters were the only nuns.

There were no tourists, sneaking photos. Then the sermon started and Holy Christ, what a commotion. That church could bust a move.

At the cathedral, I got down on my knees, head bowed, palms pressed tightly together to pray. I had nowhere to look but inside.

What am I going to see in there that I don’t already know? The Baptists do it differently.

I watched as those around me held open one hand, two hands, raised those hands to receive.

The Sisters did it too. Hands up and open, they sang. I was a nervous little sparrow so all I could make myself do was tentatively hold open one palm, just barely, awkwardly close in to my body. I looked like I had cerebral palsy.

But I left it open.

Maybe I felt Jesus there, just in the palm of my upturned hand.

For a year or more, I stayed in my room when I was sent to bed. Sometimes I would sit in the window seat and think of Charlie and Beau.

They did write me, and sent me halva and Persian nougat. I tried to picture them with bandoliers crisscrossing their chests. I tried to picture them killing people. I felt I would never know them again. In the worst of the summer humidity I would watch clouds rise right out of the cypress trees, like ghosts in the moonlight.

In winter, raindrops would catch in the Spanish moss, and the night birds would stop for a drink.

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I would sit in the window and think of my mama and how she liked to pin a gardenia in her hair. Her beautiful fingers. She would sing me to sleep. I hate her. I hate her. I hate her. Mother fucker, heroin addict drunk fuck-up dead cunt.

Late at night, I would hear Old Sister Lily at the piano, and the nuns laughing in a quiet way that made me think of crystal glasses. Always they were quiet to keep the babies still. Sarah and Aaron had been adopted out and now we had Justin and surely another baby would be here soon. I had to learn to think of the babies as puppies, something to play with that we couldn’t keep. There seemed to be no question of anyone adopting me.

One hot night I couldn’t sleep, and I listened to the Tinker Bell sounds of Old Sister Lily at the keys. Soon I heard her climbing the staircase, headed to bed. I waited a stretch. Then I ghosted out of my room and down the staircase.

I could have named each plank, I knew those steps so well from cleaning them; they would not squeal on me. I peeked into the parlor and almost peed.

The Sisters were playing cards. It couldn’t have been poker with just the two of them, so maybe gin rummy. Their robes were huddled on the floor like loyal gray hound dogs. There was a bottle of dark wine. Candles. Sister Hope was in a red bra and black panties, Sister Camille in white, nothing but lacy bits. And they had hair!

Just the fact of that!

Sister Camille lost the next hand, and Sister Hope gave a pirate laugh. She held her cards up like a dagger. Sister Camille surrendered her bra, but held Sister Hope’s eyes so intently that Sister Hope could not break the stare. I was the first one to see Sister Camille’s release of candlelit flesh.

I ran back up stairs.

Was that a hula girl tattoo I saw on Sister Hope’s arm?

And so began the great spying game. Most nights the Sisters sat around in jeans and ponytails, shorts, a glass of wine. Books and laptop videos. Some nights, Sister Camille liked to dress up like Madonna, wearing all her crosses at once, and she would dance to “Like a Virgin” and “Papa Don’t Preach,” and Sister Hope would applaud. On these nights they seemed like … sisters.

It was a hula girl tattoo. Additionally, between them they had a constellation, a branch of cherry blossoms, and the pinup from the cover of the Cars album, which I came to learn was a Vargas Girl. One night, I sneaked down and found Sister Hope with a tattoo gun, getting ready to use it on Sister Camille who had a look on her face like that gun was as sexy as the Sex Pistols. The Violent Femmes.

In the morning they had on their old gray habits. Nothing was different. Breakfast, lunch, dinner.

I have a

regard for nuns, and it isn’t high.

Then came the year that Ella arrived at The Rookery. She was 14 years old, one above me. She could match me for skinny, brown as bayou water, her hair an untamed afro. She had bruises, layers of green and deep purple over her skin, under her eyes. She looked like she never cried. I must have looked like a candy apple to this girl. We shared my room. She didn’t talk.

She didn’t want to read my Judy Bloom books.

When we went to church, she held her arms up high and wide. That part she got.

Three months later

With Ella there, I never sneaked down the stairs. Most nights, I would open the windows, settle into the seat, knees tucked up under my nightgown. One night, Ella came and sat by me.

The moon shone through her stand-up hair. A teenaged boy rode his old red bike down our street, out at midnight. He saw us in the window and rang the little chime on his handlebars in greeting. We could hear the crickets until the next car came by. “Your hair is pretty,” she said, touching my long braid. I had it in my mind I couldn’t cut it or it would be bad luck for Beau and Charlie. I told her I liked her skin, because in fact it was the same shade as my mama’s.

It doesn’t really take that much for two little orphans to become sisters.

I called her Annie after Little Orphan, and she called me Madeline after The smallest one was Madeline. They were our secret orphan names.

Certain minds might think that I will now tell salacious stories, but the only ones I have are of solace. Ella was my Jesus. She suffered so much more than I did, she took all my suffering away. When we held hands, black and white fingers like a checkerboard, we were saints.

Beau died in Afghanistan on a bullshit peacekeeping mission. When I got word of his death, all the anger came back as swiftly and as unhesitatingly as the bullet that blew Beau off the face of the Earth. I broke everything in the parlor. Old Sister Lily’s porcelain chow dogs, the antique tea cups, I pulled the Boston ferns down and cried like a banshee, smashing the pottery into the floor. All the babies, who were in the kitchen, shut up in fear. Ella came running down from our room, barefoot, cut her feet on the shards and smeared the dirt right into the wounds to take me directly into her arms. I pushed her away. The Sisters came running in. I was screaming, “It’s all my mama’s fault! That fuck witch burnt-out heroin addict coward!” In my mind, if she hadn’t died Beau wouldn’t have joined the army, and he would still be with me.

She would still be with me.

Sister Camille cut through my screaming with some screaming of her own. “What do you mean, heroin addict? Your mother wasn’t a heroin addict! What’s wrong with you?” She yelled this so loud all the babies started crying at once. It was louder than my heartbeat, it was the trumpet of God. I stood in silence.

We soaked Ella’s feet in lavender Epson salts. She asked us to collect all the pieces of porcelain and china; she would make a mosaic.

We swept up the rest, repotted the plants. While we cleaned, the Sisters assembled the puzzle of my past and laid it at my hearth.

My mama wasn’t my mother. Why did I ever think she was? How could a seriously brown women give birth to a feather-white baby with blond hair and blue eyes? My mama wasn’t Beau’s or Charlie’s mother. She didn’t have a Chinese baby. She didn’t have any babies. She took poor orphans from The Rookery when it got overcrowded. Theresa didn’t use heroin. She was a heroine. That’s what I heard through the window, all those year’s ago. Theresa was a heroine. A goddess.

But she drank. “A goddess can drink, Katrina,” said Old Sister Lily.

Did I never notice that Theresa was older than the other mothers at school? No, I never noticed, because she dyed her hair and painted

her nails and wore pretty headbands and lipstick. Because I was a child.

“Katrina, Theresa was 72 years old. She died of a heart attack,” said Old Sister Lily.

“Too much Willie Mae’s fried chicken,” tsked Sister Hope.

Old Sister Lily ignored her. “She got y’all from here, same place your brothers came from, so your brothers brought y’all back.”

I was so shocked I grew an inch. And Old Sister Lily was just getting started.

“Y’all might as well know it,” she continued, “The Rookery isn’t even a licensed orphanage. People bring us babies, we find homes. We’re not nuns.” She ripped her habit off her head, great waves of silvery hair cascading. It could have been the parting of the Gray Sea. I think I peed my pants. Not nuns!

“It’s impossible to keep this up. That’s why we stick with babies. We started wearing these god-awful outfits after Camille got robbed at knifepoint on our own street.

While carrying a baby! Even crackheads usually don’t attack nuns. And yes, Pastor Letur knows we aren’t nuns. Everybody in that church knows we aren’t nuns!” She stamped her foot like, so there!

“So those aren’t your real names?” Ella asked looking at Camille and Hope. Ella’s eyes were bigger than her hair.

“Course not. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a joke,” said Camille. “I’m Diane. Pleased to meet ya’.”

“Brenda,” said Hope, “and well, Lily really is Lily.”

Well, bless my soul.

Five weeks later

Five weeks later, Charlie came home. I knew he was coming; letter said today. I sat out on the front porch swing and waited, nervous as a mayfly. Ella and the Sisters left me to myself. Would I know him?

Would he still have the little cross-stitch pattern of pockmarks on his cheek? Would he smell like Afghanistan and dust and guns?

When I saw my brother walking up Franklin Avenue, I ran down that street and clamped on to him like I was an alligator.

I pulled him under and ate him in one bite.

He was mine.

Charlie stayed at The Rookery for a week. He played with all the babies, one, two, buckle my shoe, and Charlie Horse.

He talked to me long and slow, and we talked about Beau and Mama. We polished the stone of what we had, what we lost. On the third day, he told me he was getting married and moving to Arizona. I should come with him, and I could grow cactus that blooms only at Christmas. I could see saguaro. The rain is filled with dust. He told me that Beau left half of his death benefit to him and half to me. I could go to college. I could buy a dress that wasn’t second-hand.

But then Ella wouldn’t have worn it first.

How could I explain that The Rookery and the Sisters and Ella, the Franklin Avenue Baptist Church, and the merrygo-round of babies had become my home?

How could I say that in truth we had to work hard to recognize each other, our travels had taken us so far apart? How could I leave Ella, who cut her feet for me?

I told him I would think about it.

Three years later

Ella and I rent a little two-bedroom bungalow near Tulane. Garden District folk might consider our bedrooms the perfect size for a wine cellar, but a room of my own is orphan-speak for luxurious.

Ella is majoring in law with a goal to work for woman’s rights and sex trafficking. Her boyfriend brings beignets, and there’s always one for me. I’m majoring in creative writing. This is my first assignment.

On Sundays, we go to church on Franklin Avenue and then to The Rookery to do all the cooking and take care of the babies to give the Sisters an afternoon off. In good weather, we eat outside and when the magnolia petals fall, they fall right on us. Ω

Laura Newman grew up at Lake Tahoe during the 1970s. "The Franklin Avenue Rookery for Wayward Babies" will appear in her forthcoming second book of short stories. One of the stories in the collection was just announced as a Finalist in LitMag’s Virginia Woolf Award for Short Fiction. Newman’s first book, Parallel to Paradise, Le Rue Press, won a Poynter’s Global Ebooks gold award. Newman considers her personal best accolade the Catholic League’s call for a boycott of the Reno News & Review after the publication of one of her 95-word story entries.

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1 hate

Why I

by BoB Grimm bgrimm@n ew s r ev i ew . com

Warning: spoilers are coming.

I

’m a Game of Thrones outsider. I am not part of the current, almost Burning Man-like communal vibe partying down with Peter Dinklage and all those crazy pet dragons on HBO. I feel so alone.

If you are indifferent to Game of Thrones but think you might watch the damn thing someday, don’t read this because there will be spoilers.

I’ve tried to watch this show. I confess to going about this in a sloppy, haphazard way, with no regard for proper episode order, a mistake that has possibly tainted the whole Game of Thrones enterprise for me.

My stodgy Game of Thrones attitude leaves me isolated in a snowy field, not unlike a soldier preparing for the Battle of the Bastards. (See what I did there?)

Stranded without a sword, without a shield and without a funky pet dragon to defend me.

My GoT attitude is, perhaps, improper, incomplete and unfair, for I have not fully ingested the series. Until I watch the entire series, with all of its gratuitous boobs and butts and groovy pet dragons, I really have no right to cast words of disdain. I mean, I will anyway. It’s kind of what I do around here in these alternative weekly parts.

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Oh, look, it’s a pet dragon.

It’s the biggest TV show in the world, but our movie reviewer is not a fan

Game of Throne s A couple of years ago, I made a promise to my little brother Michael: If he watched all of Breaking Bad, which I consider to be the best TV since the original Twin Peaks, I would watch all of Game of Thrones, a show he adores.

As of this writing, my brother has fulfilled his commitment to me, and completed Breaking Bad, providing both positive feedback and genuine appreciation for the show.

He’s a good little brother.

Me? I made it through a little more than one season of Game of Thrones, snickered a lot at the mischievous pet dragons and abandoned the pledge. I’m a bad, bad big brother.

When asked about this entertainment-based betrayal, Mike had this to say: “I feel like Lysa Arryn getting pushed through the Moon Door by Petyr Baelish!” I have no fucking idea what he’s talking about.

Did I feel guilty that Mike, a husband and father of two with a full-time job, put in the pledged viewing hours while I chose to watch baseball, Barry and the new season of Twin Peaks instead? A little. But in my defense,

Game of Thrones is a long-assed trek, and it’s not hooking me.

From what I’ve seen so far, it’s basically a bunch of pet dragons, bad wigs, Dinklage quips, sex scenes that rival Fifty Shades of Grey in lameness, and Aquaman with a muzzle. The only thing I really care about is Peter Dinklage, and I can get my Dinklage fix by watching The Station Agent and “Space Pants.”

OuT Of Order My GoT hatred has put a strain on my relationship with RN&R Editor-in-Chief—and unrepentant GoT fan—Brad Bynum. In the week my horrific Blue Genie likeness adorned the front page of this very paper, he fully ignored my summer movie preview

Tyrion Lannister, portrayed by Peter Dinklage.

within and spoke about his sad adoration for all that is Game of Thrones in his editor’s note. No “Say, look, Bob Grimm has written a bunch of stupid nonsense about movies he hasn’t seen yet!” Nope, his editor’s note was full of GoT fangasms about Joffrey and Episode 802.

In trying to coach me on Thrones indoctrination, Brad implored me to not watch the show out of order. I had already screwed up royally on that one.

In what could be classified as a grievous mistake, I watched “The Red Wedding” first. Because I watched “The Red Wedding” before diving into Season One, I saw SPOILER Catelyn Stark SPOILER get her throat slit before I saw SPOILER Sean Bean’s SPOILER head on a stake. Hey, you can’t send hate mail for this paragraph if you are uninitiated. I said SPOILER four times!

Brad the Editor—I say it that way because it sounds like a GoT name—bristled at the news of my viewing infraction in a recent discussion on GoT fandom. I said I might try to watch the show again, from the beginning. A fresh start, if you will.

He ordered me to write this article— politely requested, actually—with the short notice resulting in a sort of punishment.

Ironically, it is because I had to write this article about GoT disenchantment that I had no time to recommence watching Game of Thrones.

Here in the final season of GoT, social media is lighting up about stuff like “The Battle of Winterbottom’s Ass” and “Drake’s Devil Dogs,” or whatever the hell George R. R. Martin dreamt up after mixing 50 pounds of s’mores with too much vodka.

I recently tried to pop back in on GoT while in a hotel room in Louisiana. (No need to explain why I was in said hotel room, other than it involves pixels, site retargeting

Cersei Lannister, portrayed by Lena Headey.

my opinion will change, but I’m going to give it a shot.

Our opinions, our values, our entertainment-based loves in this world are precious to us. Embrace that which you love, even if it’s a stupid show about pet dragons, and fight for your opinion because, hey, it’s kind of fun. It’s OK to blissfully piss on certain TV shows, movies and music. Hating entertainment things is natural and cathartic. It brings balance to your time in the entertainment realms. Embrace the love and hate.

Unless we’re talking about The Beatles.

If you hate The Beatles, you are a fucking asshole.

and DSPs.) While watching the final season premiere, I saw Peter Dinklage, wily pet dragons and softcore porn scenes—pretty much what I experienced watching the first season prior to bailing out. I must make this clear: to an outsider, this show looks really, really bad. Consistently bad.

But, I confess, I get a little jealous of those in the know, those who can feel the GoT power. I, too, want to know the wonders From what I’ve of the beautiful dragon EpiloguE babysitter, the Salieri seen so far, it’s So that snarky a.k.a. Denise Target basically a bunch of pet Beatles comment was Generation. I want to supposed to be the dragons, bad wigs, Dinklage feel the joy you fans end of the article, do when witnessing quips, sex scenes that rival but something Game the valiant battle Fifty Shades of Grey in of Thrones related readiness of Little Foot happened before turnlameness, and Aquaman and Lord Byron the ing this piece in. (In Raccoonheart. I want to with a muzzle. addition to the Starbucks know just how Tony Stark cup being left in the fits into all of these medieval Episode 804 party scene… shenanigans.

BRUUUUHAHAHAHA!) Fandom can be a strange thing. I’ve The day after I wrote most of this, I spent nearly 24 years at this paper proclaimwatched the movie Long Shot with Charlize ing my various favorite obsessions (Jaws, Theron. Late in the movie, her character There Will Be Blood, Star Wars, Freddie Got is seen watching an episode of GoT. It’s Fingered) and dissing some much beloved a moment when a big, bloody pet dragon enterprises, rife with rabid fans (Avatar, seems to fall off a glacier, while onlookers Spring Breakers, Bohemian Rhapsody). are very bummed. I must confess … THAT If there’s anything I’ve tried to put out SHIT LOOKED AMAZING! there over the years, it’s that we all have the And with that, I have had at least one right to our opinions, and to love and hate GoT moment where I wasn’t rolling my anything we want when it comes to entereyes. It’s a start. Ω tainment. I currently hate Game of Thrones, but I’m going to give it another shot. I doubt

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by JeSSiCa Santina

Debra Lynn Hull (left), Sara Mackie and Kathy Welch play early 20th century computers in Silent Sky. Photo/Jeri Chadwell

Star girls It’s an old, worn chestnut that behind every successful man is a woman. Tired though it may be, it could have originated with Henrietta Leavitt, the woman whose careful, thankless research gave the scientific world a method for measuring the universe. Her story is lovingly told in Lauren Gunderson’s play Silent Sky, currently in production at Restless Artists Theatre.

The film Hidden Figures first introduced me to the scores of African American women working as “computers” behind the scenes in segregated quarters, doing the day-in, day-out mathematical calculations that enabled the U.S. to win the Space Race. But before all that, in early 1900s Cambridge, Massachusetts, a small, dingy office at the Harvard Observatory became the birthplace of some of the most groundbreaking astronomical discoveries in history—all by female computers who earned less than 30 cents an hour—and sometimes nothing at all—to catalog stars whose images are captured on glass slides, all of them credited to male superiors.

Among them was Leavitt, a partially deaf woman obsessed with understanding the universe. Leavitt, played with delicacy and warmth by Sara Mackie, and her colleagues, Williamina Fleming (Kathy Welch) and Annie Cannon (Debra Lynn Hull), make up the “harem” of women working for astronomer Dr. Edward Pickering, a man they never see but who takes full credit for their work. His bumbling assistant, Peter Shaw (James Miller), routinely interrupts their work to be sure they haven’t screwed anything up.

Despite her oppressive working conditions, Leavitt begins noticing a pattern among the Cepheid stars visible on her slides. But when she asks to get a better look through the telescope, she’s repeatedly dismissed. Supported by Annie and 16

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Williamina, and to the exclusion of all else, including her personal life, Leavitt eventually hits upon a scientific theory that will change the way humans think about the universe.

What’s even more striking about Gunderson’s play is how it shines a light on the age-old struggle—the expectation that a woman find a way to balance professional passions with personal relationships, romantic or otherwise, which even today lurks in every modern woman’s periphery.

And it illuminates a lie we’re frequently told: that we should be happy with what we have, and that to ask for more would be selfish and impractical.

Accompanied by a haunting and emotional piano score, this RAT production is simply lovely. Mackie’s Henrietta is inspiring yet approachable, and Hull and Welch add a touch of comic relief that keeps this slice of scientific history from ever growing dull. Also worthy of praise is the stage itself, which bears the heavenly artwork of Mackie herself, and a backdrop that reminds us that even though Leavitt’s and her coworkers’ feet are firmly planted on the floor of their cramped office, their heads are always in the stars.

Though Gunderson’s play takes a liberties with the actual history, and it tends to run long while leaving other questions unanswered, it’s a deeply affecting story that will leave you wondering what other females’ accomplishments may still be hiding in the shadows of history, waiting to be told. Ω

12345 Silent Sky Silent Sky—written by lauren Gunderson and directed by doug a. Mishler—will be performed at restless artists theatre, 295 20th St., Sparks, until May 19. dates: May 9, 10, 11, 16, 17, 18 at 7:30 p.m.; May 12, 19 at 2 p.m. tickets are $15 in advance, $20 at the door. Student, senior and military discounts are available. For information and to purchase tickets, visit rattheatre.org or call 525-3074.

by BoB Grimm

b g ri m m @ne w s re v i e w . c o m

SHORT TAKES

4

“Guess how many days since we last showered?”

Take a chance Twenty four years ago, The American President came out, a cutesy romantic comedy starring Michael Douglas as a Bill Clinton-like President and Annette Bening as the lady he wants to date. America swooned, but I threw up. I hated that piece of shit.

Now, in the Trump era, we get Long Shot, a different twist on a high profile politician dating a commoner. This time out, Charlize Theron stars as Charlotte Field, Secretary of State and potential Presidential candidate. Her eventual romantic interest is Fred Flarsky (Seth Rogen), a journalist turned speech writer who, not surprisingly, smokes lots of weed.

Long Shot is better than The American President.

It’s a lot better than The American President.

Flarsky is a dweeby, wind breaker-wearing columnist whose alternative weekly newspaper is sold to a conservative media mogul (an unrecognizable Andy Serkis). He quits his job and finds himself attending a high society party featuring Charlotte and Boyz 2 Men along with best pal, Lance (O’Shea Jackson, Jr., showing he’s a lot funnier than his reasonably funny dad, Ice Cube).

Turns out Fred knows Charlotte. She was a neighbor when he was a kid, and she, being three years older, babysat him. They get reacquainted, Fred gets a job as her speech writer, one thing leads to another, and there you have it, one of this year’s most unlikely rom-com pairings. It’s also a pairing that works swimmingly because Theron and Rogen have serious screen chemistry.

Now, before you go squawking that a woman of Theron’s caliber would never date a Rogen in real life, I’d like to point out that Theron seriously dated the scrunchy faced Sean Penn. Seth Rogen kicks Sean Penn’s ass in many categories, including looks in my humble opinion—just saying.

Whatever you think of this pairing before you see the movie, Theron and Rogen pull it off. Their courtship is funny, awkward, comedically drug-laced and utterly convincing. There are many fantasy elements to this movie, but most of those play out on the political side. As for the romance part, that’s the most realistic thing happening in this film. Charlotte

likes to party, and much of the Fred part is modeled after Rogen, and Rogen is the king of partying. It’s a good match.

The political stuff is hyper-satire, with Bob Odenkirk scoring big points as the former TV star turned President who won’t be seeking reelection because he wants to make the big leap into film. (He idolizes Woody Harrelson. Oh, were this the case in 2020, what a wonderful world this would be.)

Long Shot is directed by real life Rogen buddy Jonathan Levine. (The two worked together on 50/50 and The Night Before.) Levine proves to be the right choice to pull off the wacky screenplay by Dan Sterling and Liz Hannah, a script that gives equal time to environmental issues and accidentally jacking off into one’s beard (a moment in this film that’s reminiscent of There’s Something About Mary). It’s a daring script that takes chances, like a nuclear bomb thriller where the bombs actually go off. Not all of the jokes hit the mark, but enough do.

Theron is one of the greatest living actresses at work today, and, as it turns out, she’s also one of the funniest. (See her guest spot on Arrested Development for further evidence.) She’s actually funnier than Rogen in this movie. That’s not a dig on Rogen; he’s funny, but Theron wins the funny war in Long Shot. As for Jackson, Jr., his Lance deserves his own spinoff movie.

At press time, Long Shot got its clock cleaned at the box office by a little movie called Avengers: Endgame in its second weekend. Looks like America isn’t buying in on Theron and Rogen making out while high on molly. Whatever.

If you are skipping because you think the pairing looks ridiculous, know that it’s a ridiculous movie, with the pairing being the least ridiculous thing about it. They are a good screen couple. I hope they work together again, and I hope Long Shot finds life in the future on streaming platforms. Ω

The Marvel universe gets its most grandiose chapter with Avengers: Endgame, a fitting successor to last year’s Infinity War and a generous gift to those of us who like our movies with superheroes in them. When last we saw Tony Stark (Robert Downey, Jr.), he was a survivor of the dreaded Thanos (Josh Brolin) finger snap, a universe altering occurrence that took out half its living creatures and provided for that tear-jerking moment when Spider-Man (Tom Holland) and many others turned to dust. Endgame picks up where that action left off, with Stark floating in space and keeping a video journal of his inevitable demise having run out of food and water. Captain America (Chris Evans), Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson), Bruce Banner (Mark Ruffalo), Thor (Chris Hemsworth) and Rocket (Bradley Cooper) are among the other survivors, dealing with the repercussions of so much death on Earth, just like Justin Theroux in The Leftovers. Oh, there are tons of questions this movie needs to answer in its three-hourplus running time. Where’s Thanos? Where’s Hawkeye (Jeremy Renner)? Is Tony permanently marooned in space? What’s been going on with Ant-Man (Paul Rudd) during all of this Thanos hullabaloo? Is everybody really dead? Does Star Lord (Chris Pratt) still have his Walkman in the Great Beyond? Good news: the movie answers many of your questions and more thanks to another well-balanced screenplay and a crack directorial job from the team of Anthony and Joe Russo. When you leave Endgame, your belly will be happily full of cinematic satisfaction.

1

Long Shot

Dumbo

The decline of Tim Burton continues with Dumbo, his wasteful remake of the classic animated movie that amounts to a big nothing, for kids and adults alike.

The original Dumbo clocked in at just over an hour, while this one lasts for nearly two hours that feel like 40. Yes, the running time has been padded, but not with anything that registers as beneficial. A bunch of unnecessary subplots and added characters take away time from the title character, an admittedly cute CGI achievement. There are no talking animals in this movie, so scratch Timothy the mouse, the singing crows and the lullaby from Mama elephant off your list of expectations. The mouse—who makes a brief appearance as a caged mouse wearing a hat—is replaced by the requisite precocious children, one of them played by Thandie Newton’s daughter. Sorry, Thandie Newton’s daughter, but you can’t act. Colin Farrell appears as Holt, the precocious children’s dad, back from World War I with one arm, and his wife died of the flu while traveling with the circus. The circus is led by Max Medici (a blustery Danny DeVito), who has purchased a cheap, pregnant elephant. He wants Holt to be the keeper of his elephants, a comedown from his previous gig as a circus cowboy. Farrell, like most of the humans in this movie, seems lost. V.A. Vandevere, the villain of the film, played by Michael Keaton, purchases Dumbo and plans to make him a main attraction at his Dreamland, which has a strong resemblance to Disneyland. So, in a way, Vandevere is modeled after Walt Disney and is portrayed as an evil megalomaniac. So, in essence, Burton gets away with indirectly portraying Walt Disney as a bit of a greedy monster. I’m not saying this is anything inaccurate, but it’s a little odd to see in an actual Disney movie.

3

12345

Avengers: Endgame

Extremely Wicked, Shocking Evil and Vile

Director Joe Berlinger is no stranger to dark subjects. He directed the documentary Paradise Lost: The Child Murders at Robin Hood Hills, a movie that arguably helped release three innocent men from prison. Earlier this year, he directed Conversations with a Killer: The Ted Bundy Tapes, a four-part documentary series on the infamous serial killer. Now comes this,

a narrative film about Bundy’s life, focusing on the years in which he was killing women while having a relationship with Liz Kendall (Lily Collins), a single parent he met in a bar.

Zac Effron steps into the role of Bundy in a way that is downright frightening. As it turns out, if you mess with Effron’s hair a bit, he’s a dead ringer for Bundy, but his work here goes well beyond physical resemblance. There was plenty of footage of Bundy for Effron to study. (His murder trial was televised, a first in American history.) And Effron definitely captures Bundy’s creepy, deceptive charisma. Berlinger’s film focuses on the charms that fooled some who knew Bundy, a mostly affable, cheerful guy in the public eye. There was something supremely evil boiling behind his movie star eyes, and Berlinger opts for a film that mostly avoids his depraved deeds in favor of examining his life away from the murders. It’s a risky approach that mostly works, risky in that Berlinger could be accused of romanticizing Bundy with the casting of Effron and the lack of carnage in the movie. This movie is far from romantic, and those watching it probably know what a sick man Bundy was. This is a horror story, but one that favors creeping terror over massive bloodletting. Berlinger covered the details of Bundy’s crimes (using Bundy’s own words) in the documentary. (Streaming on Netflix during a limited theatrical release.)

1

Hellboy

A Hellboy movie without director Guillermo del Toro proves to be a very unfortunate thing with Hellboy, the third movie based on the classic Dark Horse comic. This isn’t a sequel. It’s a reboot, and a cheap-assed, sloppy reboot at that. David Harbour steps in for Ron Perlman to play the title role, while Neil Marshall (The Descent) haphazardly directs in place of Guillermo del Toro. While Harbour (Stranger Things) is OK in the role, he does little to distinguish himself, basically doing some lightweight riffing on a character Perlman established. He’s a lot like Perlman, but he’s not as good as Perlman.

Gone is the richness and depth of del Toro’s world, replaced by choppy CGI, unimpressive makeup and messy editing. The movie is just one lackluster action sequence after another, strung together with slow dialogue scenes that do nothing to make the film feel coherent. The movie starts off on a goofy note, with Hellboy in a wrestling match with his former partner turned vampire. That sounds stupid, and it is, giving the film a silly note to start on as the narrative jumps from vampire-slaying to giant-hunting. Hellboy battles giants, who are represented with the aforementioned choppy CGI. Marshall apparently got the go ahead to incorporate a lot of gore, and the movie has a lot of blood, to the point where it has a numbing effect. It’s totally void of fun.

3

Shazam!

The DC universe gets its best movie since Wonder Woman with Shazam!, a fun—and sometimes shockingly dark—blast of comic book superhero fantasy. While a little sloppy at times, the movie works thanks to its central performances and warmhearted core. Zachary Levi proves an excellent choice to play the title character, the net result of a 14-year-old boy being handed super powers by a wizard (Djimon Hounsou).

That boy is Billy Batson (Asher Angel), a foster child in search of his real mom. When he yells “Shazam!” a lightning bolt blasts him in his melon, and he becomes the glorious, red-suited, white-caped superhero, albeit a superhero with a 14-year-old’s brain. This gives Levi the chance to do a Tom Hanks-inBig kind of shtick, and he’s good at it. The new Shazam, who goes by various names, including Captain Sparkle Fingers, gets coached by his superhero-obsessed sidekick and foster brother, Freddy (Jack Dylan Grazer). Freddy is one of the big reasons this movie works despite its flaws. Grazer employs the same kind of whip smart line delivery that made him one of the more memorable kids running away from Pennywise.

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by TOdd SOuTh

Carnitas, lemgua and al pastor tacos can be ordered from El Original Tacos Tijuana.

Taco ’bout it El Original Tacos Tijuana has a pretty short menu, so I was half expecting a taco stand.

Instead I found a dining area with booth and table seating and a drive through window for take-out. The salsa bar includes the usual garnishes and four housemade salsas ranging from medium and fruity to “let’s get this party rolling” hot. You’ll have to go elsewhere for a beer, but with fresh, handmade corn tortillas, I had eyes only for the food.

Tacos ($2.25-$2.50 each) are available with a choice of 10 meats. They come standard with onion, cilantro and medium salsa, with optional toppings of nopal (cactus, 50 cents extra), guacamole, sour cream, etc. I stuck with the basics and ordered one each of cabeza, lengua, carnitas, buche, al pastor, asada, tripa, pollo and Azteca.

Each taco was loaded with meat. The Azteca is a mix of carne asada (marinated, grilled steak) and nopal. The steak had a ton of flavor and plenty of smoky char from the grill, a great contrast with the slightly citrusy, tart cactus.

Some folks don’t care for nopal because it can be a little slimy, but I really enjoyed it.

The cabeza (beef head) was soft, fatty and mildly seasoned. The lengua (beef tongue) was smooth and tender. The carnitas (slow cooked pork) was tender, moist and pulled apart with ease. Although the buche’s (beef stomach) flavor was quite good, it was a little on the squishy side.

Al pastor (spit-roasted pork with pineapple) was a little crispy and spicy, with a perfect balance of pineapple. When done right, tripa (intestine) has just a hint of livery gaminess that reminds you you’re eating offal. Though a tad chewy, this example tasted great. Last was a better than 18

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PHOTO/ALLISON YOUNG

average grilled pollo (chicken) taco that was well seasoned, moist and smoky.

Out of curiosity, I ordered a guacamole chorizo (sausage) vampiro ($4) and flour tortilla mula with saudero (brisket) and nopal ($4).

A mula is essentially the contents of two (or three?) tacos, stuffed between a pair of five-inch tortillas. There was nothing wrong with the flour discs, but they paled by comparison. The brisket was fattier than the cabeza and could have used more seasoning, but a healthy dose of salsa helped out. The vampiro was stuffed and then grilled on both sides, to the point of seriously charring the corn tortillas. The oil from the chorizo drenched the whole thing, and it was delicious—a little crunchy, a tad chewy and supremely spicy. The guacamole got a little lost in the mix, but I hardly noticed.

I’ve had mixed results with the popular combination of French fries and carne asada, but an order of campechana fries ($10) was absolutely fabulous. The mix of grilled steak and adobada (marinated pork) was killer, and there was plenty of it. I had to dig to find the cheese fries under all that meat, guac and sour cream. The fries could have been a little crispier, but I really didn’t care.

That combination and contrast of flavors is now on my list of favorite things. I had to force myself to stop uttering wordless sounds of contentment, lest I embarrass the family name in public—nom nom nom. Ω

El Original Tacos Tijuana 2201 Prater Way, Sparks, 358-0843

El Original Tacos Tijuana is open Sunday to Thursday from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m., and Friday and Saturday from 10 a.m. to 2 a.m. Learn more at www.eloriginaltacostijuana.com/ location-2.

by MARk EARNEsT

The harmony-singing lads in Ichthyosaur, from left, Tanner Allen, Robert Parker and Nico Telles.

Fine tune Ichthyosaur It’s pretty striking when the harmonies hit during a typical Ichthyosaur song.

Modern bands tend to have a lead singer and the occasional bassist or guitarist chipping in with some backups or unison parts. Not with Ichthyosaur: harmonies are featured on every song and involve all three band members, who also each take lead vocals during the set.

Bassist Tanner Allen, guitarist Robert Parker and drummer Nico Telles said it was planned from the get-go to share the vocals, and they agreed that it’s a lot of work to get the blend that distinguishes them from other Reno rock bands.

“We were all pushing for it, but I think some of the inspiration on my end, that motivated me to push the band even more toward it, was the classic rock of the ’70s,” said Allen. “Like the Eagles or Boston, those massive full-band harmonies that just sound bitchin’. That sounds like an element that is missing these days, and I’m not sure where it went, but we think it needs to be back.”

Everyone also chips in when it comes to the songwriting.

“We don’t tell each other what to do, mostly,” said Parker.

“Oh, no, it’s very free-flow in our band,” Allen added, to chuckles all around.

That free-flow description fits the band to a tee. Although they pull from a lot of different sources, there are some consistent hallmarks to the Icky sound: Parker’s driving, syncopated guitar parts; Allen’s melodic bass lines, which also have plenty of drive; and Telles’ solid drumming that occasionally explodes into punk or Who-like fury.

It also taps from different eras: the 2000s rock revivalists, ’90s UK melodic

PHOTO/MARK EARNEST

indie, ’70s straight-ahead rockers. One song reminded me of ’70s power pop geniuses Big Star, while another made me instantly think of the great ’80s UK indie band Wedding Present. Yet Icky’s music has an appeal beyond the cult favorites.

Rock fans of all eras will find something to like.

Interestingly, it was metal music that first bonded friends Allen and Parker, who both work in the Air National Guard as aircraft mechanics.

“We bonded over similar interests in music,” said Allen. “We listened to the same bands, and nobody else we were working with shared that same enthusiasm for music.”

Ichthyosaur’s roots were in a worship band that Parker was in, and that Allen filled in for from time to time. The diversity of that experience really stuck with the band.

“The cool thing about the church was that the singers wanted to do songs in different ways, or at least in some different way from how we would normally do it,” Parker said. “We had to learn by ear how to compensate for that, and it really helped us create our own songs.”

Icky started in 2015, with Telles joining up at the end of 2016. As it happens, Telles’ father is also in the Air National Guard and tipped him off to his future bandmates.

The work in the military does take precedence—both Parker and Allen have been deployed in recent years—but Icky does its best to get together to practice, write and play shows—and to record and release EPs, with a new one due sometime in the fall. Ω

Ichthyosaur plays on May 19 at Jub Jub’s Thirst Parlor, 71 S. Wells Ave., with touring bands Catbamboo and Mannequin Mishap, and on Jun 21 at Shea’s Tavern with touring groups All Boy All Girl, A Summer Alive and Red Light Radical. Get more info at facebook.com/ichthyosaurband.

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it’s time for a raD career witH fUn PeoPLe We are a family owned business that has been a part of this community since 1995. Our mission is to publish great newspapers which are successful and enduring, create a quality work environment that encourages employees to grow while respecting personal welfare, and to have a positive impact on our community and make it a better place to live.

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We prioritize creating a workplace that reflect the diversity within the communities we serve and where everyone can be their true, authentic self.

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THURSDAY 5/9

FRIDAY 5/10

1UP

132 West St., (775) 329-2878

RuPaul’s Drag Race viewing party, 9pm, no cover

alIBI alE WorKS

1044 E. Fourth St., (775) 324-5050

The Church May 11, 8 p.m.

Crystal Bay Casino 14 Highway 28 Crystal Bay 833-6333

Comedy

Carson Comedy Club, Carson City Nugget, 507 N. Carson St., Carson City, (775) 882-1626: Travis Nelson, FriSat, 8pm, $15 Laugh Factory, Silver Legacy Resort Casino, 407 N. Virginia St., (775) 3257401: Don Friesen, Thu, Sun, 7:30pm, $21.95; Fri-Sat, 7:30pm, 9:30pm, $27.45; Bob Zany, Tue-Wed, 7:30pm, $21.95 LEX at Grand Sierra Resort, 2500 E. Second St., (775) 789-5399: Ron Josol, Fri, 6:30pm, $10 The Library, 134 W. Second St., (775) 683-3308: Open Mic Comedy, Wed, 9:30pm, no cover Pioneer Underground, 100 S. Virginia St., (775) 322-5233: There Goes the Neighborhood Comedy Tour, Thu, 8pm, $10$15; Ron Josol, Fri-Sat, 8:30pm, $15-$20

altUraS Bar

Dance party, 10pm, $5

Dance party, 10pm, $5

Smoky Knights, 9pm, no cover

Dusty Miles and the Cryin’ Shame, 9pm, $no cover

10069 Bridge St., Truckee, (530) 536-5029

Shark in the Water, The Scattering, Ostracized, 8:30pm, $8

Bar oF aMErICa

Guitar Town, 9pm, no cover

10040 Donner Pass Rd., Truckee, (530) 587-2626

tHE BlUEBIrD

Guitar Town, 9pm, no cover

CarGo ConCErt Hall

Pauly Shore, 8pm, $22

CEol IrISH PUB

The Dusters, 9pm, no cover

John Garrett Band, 9pm, no cover

Be Parker, 6:30pm, no cover

George Souza, 6:30pm, no cover

George Souza, 6:30pm, no cover

Karaoke with Nightsong Productions, 8pm, no cover

Whiskey Preachers, 9pm, no cover

Bobby Love and Sugar Sweet, 9pm, no cover

255 N. Virginia St., (775) 398-5400 538 S. Virginia St., (775) 329-5558 10142 Rue Hilltop, Truckee; (530) 587-5711

DaVIDSon’S DIStIllErY 275 E. Fourth St., (775) 324-1917

Fat Cat Bar & GrIll HEllFIrE Saloon

Terror Pigeon!, Real Dominic, Sell the Sun, Creatures of Habit, 8pm, $5

jIMMY B’S

180 W. Peckham Lane, Ste. 1070, (775) 686-6737

jUB jUB’S tHIrSt Parlor 71 S. Wells Ave., (775) 384-1652

Karaoke, 9pm, W, no cover Open Mic Night, 7:30pm, M, no cover Ike & Martin, 7pm, Tu, no cover

Traditional Irish session, 7pm, Tu, Wed. Night Showcase, 7pm, no cover

Margret’s Funk Band, 8pm, no cover

3372 S. McCarran Blvd., (775) 825-1988 140 Vesta St., (775) 448-6500

Post shows online by registerin g at www.newsr eview. com/reno. D eadline is the Frida y before public ation.

Panda, 8:30pm, no cover

599 N. Lake Blvd., Tahoe City; (530) 583-3355

tHE HollanD ProjECt

MON-WED 5/13-5/15

Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, Mourning Eyes, All Hype, No Heart, 8pm, $20-$25

555 E. Fourth St., (775) 499-5549

CottonWooD rEStaUrant

SUNDAY 5/12

Late Eighties, n808, DR.Bob, Atlas, DJ 4Bang, 10pm, $5-$10

214 W. Commercial Row, (775) 813-6689

5 Star Saloon

SATURDAY 5/11

Echoes of the Forgotten, Nothing But Losers, 8:30pm, $TBA

Camp Cope, An Horse, Oceanator, 8pm, Tu, $12-$14

WAND, Fine Motor, 8pm, $10-$12 Live music, 9pm, no cover

Saturday Night Karaoke, 9:30pm, no cover

Caskey, 7:30pm, $20

Likybo, 7:30pm, $20-$50

Silk & Steel, 8pm, no cover The Dirtball, 7:30pm, W, $17

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THURSDAY 5/9

FRIDAY 5/10

SATURDAY 5/11

SUNDAY 5/12

MON-WED 5/13-5/15

LAUGHING PLANET CAFE

Jazz Jam Session Wednesdays, 7:30pm, W, no cover

941 N. Virginia St., (775) 870-9633

LIVING THE GOOD LIFE NIGHTCLUB THE LOFT

1021 Heavenly Village Way, S. L. Tahoe, (530) 523-8024

Red Jumpsuit Apparatus May 11, 8 p.m.

The BlueBird 555 E. Fourth St. 499-5549

Magic Fusion, 7pm, 9pm, $22-$47

THE LOVING CUP

1527 S. Virginia St., (775) 800-1960

Magic Fusion, 7pm, $22-$47 Magic After Dark, 9pm, $32-$47

DJ Trivia, 7pm, no cover

Audio Breeze, 8:30pm, no cover

MILLNENNIUM

235 Flint St., (775) 376-1948

Amber Sweeney, Kat Brennan, 8pm, no cover

THE POLO LOUNGE

T-N-Keys, 8pm, no cover

rUE BOUrBON

Mike Badinger, 6pm, no cover

1559 S. Virginia St., (775) 322-8864 1401 S. Virginia St., (775) 384-6526

Camp Cope May 14, 8 p.m.

The Holland Project 140 Vesta St. 448-6500

DJ Bobby G, 8pm, no cover

DG Kicks, 8pm, Tu, no cover Sweet & Lethal Burlesque, 9pm, W, $5

Verbal Kint, 8pm, no cover

DJ Ethik, 8pm, no cover

Sun Beast, Dissidence, Stavves, 9:30pm, $5-$6

Ozymandias, Solar Haze, Malison, 9:30pm, $5-$6 Queens of the World Part 2 hosted by Lily Does Moore, midnight, $5

Trivia Night hosted by Aubrey Forston, 8pm, no cover Karaoke hosted by Tabitha, 9pm, Tu-W, no cover

Open Mic Night with James Ames, 6:30pm, Tu, no cover

3155 Eastlake Blvd., New Washoe City, (775) 470-8128 2660 Lake Tahoe Blvd., S.L. Tahoe, (530) 544-3425

Open Mic Night, 8pm, W, no cover

Puddle of Mudd, Greg Golden Band, Left of Centre, 8pm, $25

wASHOE CAMP SALOON

wHISkEy DICkS SALOON

DJ Trivia, 1pm, no cover

Hoedown in Midtown, 8pm, no cover

340 Kietzke Lane, (775) 686-6681 211 N. Virginia St., (775) 433-1090

Bingo w/T-N-Keys, 6:30pm, Tu, no cover No Drama, 6pm, W, no cover

First Take with Rick Metz, 8pm, no cover

Drinking With Clowns, DJ Bobby G, 10pm, no cover

SPLASH rENO

VIrGINIA STrEET BrEwHOUSE

Motown on Monday, 9pm, M, no cover

DJ Trivia, M, 7:30pm, no cover

761 S. Virginia St., (775) 221-7451 715 S. Virginia St., (775) 786-4774

Magic Fusion, 7pm, M, Tu, W, $22-$47

TEMPO, John White, 8pm, no cover

THE SAINT

SHEA’S TAVErN

Magic Fusion, 4:30pm, 7pm, $22-$47

La internacional Sonora Dinamita, 10pm, free entry for women before 11pm

2100 Victorian Ave., Sparks, (775) 507-1626

PIGNIC PUB & PATIO

Magic Fusion, 7pm, 9pm, $22-$47

Jake Houston, An American Forrest, Margo Cilker, 9pm, $TBA

188 California Ave., (775) 322-2480

MIDTOwN wINE BAr

Live Jazz Jam Wednesdays, 7:30pm, W, no cover

One Way Street, 8:30pm, no cover

1480 N. Carson St., Carson City, (775) 841-4663

False Rhythms, 9pm, no cover

Brüka Theatre Presents arTHur Miller’s

Directed by Holly Natwora May 9, 10, 11, 15A, 16, 17, 18 @7:30PM Matinee: May 12* @2:00pm TickeTs Senior/Student/Military $18 General Tickets $20

MOTHERS GET IN FREE SUNDAY!

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May 15A - Artist Night - $10 All Tickets *Matinee followed by a talk-back with the company

Brüka THeaTer 99 N. Virginia Street Reno, NV 89501 775-323-3321 www.bruka.org

ATLANTIS CASINO reSOrT SPA 3800 S. Virginia St., (775) 825-4700 1) Ballroom 2) Cabaret

BOOMTOWN CASINO HOTeL

2100 Garson Rd., Verdi, (775) 345-6000 1) Events Center 2) Guitar Bar

CArSON VALLey INN

Apocalyptica May 11, 8 p.m.

Silver Legacy 407 N. Virginia St. 325-7401

1627 Hwy. 395, Minden, (775) 782-9711 1) Valley Ballroom 2) Cabaret

CIrCUS CIrCUS reNO

500 N. Sierra St., (775) 329-0711 1) El Jefe’s Cantina 2) Cabaret

Fat Cat Bar & Grill (Midtown District), 1401 S. Virginia St., (775) 453-2223: Karaoke with Chapin, Tu, 9pm, no cover Pizza Baron, 1155 W. Fourth St., Ste. 113, (775) 329-4481: Wacky Wednesday Karaoke with Steve Starr & DJ Hustler, 9pm, no cover The Point, 1601 S. Virginia St., (775) 3223001: Karaoke, Thu-Sat, 8:30pm, no cover Spiro’s Sports Bar & Grille, 1475 E. Prater Way, Ste. 103, Sparks, (775) 356-6000: Karaoke, Fri-Sat, 9pm, no cover West 2nd Street Bar, 118 W. Second St., (775) 348-7976: Karaoke, Mon-Sun, 9pm, no cover

FRIDAY 5/10

SATURDAY 5/11

SUNDAY 5/12

MON-WED 5/13-5/15

2) Escalade, 8pm, no cover

2) Escalade, 4pm, no cover Rebekah Chase Band, 10pm, no cover

2) Escalade, 4pm, no cover Rebekah Chase Band, 10pm, no cover

2) Rebekah Chase Band, 8pm, no cover

2) Reckless Envy, M, Tu, W, 8pm, no cover

2) Jason King, 9pm, no cover

2) Paul Covarelli, 5pm, no cover John Palmore, 9pm, no cover

2) Paul Covarelli, 5pm, no cover New Wave Crave, 9pm, no cover

2) Jamie Rollins, 6pm, no cover

2) Tandymonium, 6pm, M, no cover Bob Gardner, 6pm, Tu, no cover Jason King, 6pm, M, no cover

2) Reckless Envy, 7pm, no cover

2) Reckless Envy, 8pm, no cover

2) Reckless Envy, 8pm, no cover

2) Rock River, 6pm, no cover

2) Rock River, 6pm, M, no cover Roem Baur, 6pm, Tu, W, no cover

2) Mike Furlong Band, 9pm, no cover

1) DJ MoFunk, 10pm, no cover 2) Mike Furlong Band, 9pm, no cover

1) DJ Chris English, 10pm, no cover 2) Mike Furlong Band, 9pm, no cover

2) Dynohunter, 10pm, no cover

1) The Church, 8pm, $25-$30 2) DJ Bacy, Marques Scot, 10pm, no cover

1) The Illusionists Experience, 8:30pm, $39.95

1) The Illusionists Experience, 5:30pm, 8:30pm, $39.95

1) The Illusionists Experience, 5pm, $39.95

1) The Illusionists Experience, 7pm, Tu, 7:30pm, W, $39.95

1) Willie Nelson & Family, 9pm, $59+ 2) DJ Impakt, 10pm, $20 3) Carolyn Dolan, 6pm, no cover

2) Rich Homie Quan, 10pm, $20 3) Carolyn Dolan, 6pm, no cover

CrySTAL BAy CASINO

14 Highway 28, Crystal Bay, (775) 833-6333 1) Crown Room 2) Red Room

eLDOrADO reSOrT CASINO 345 N. Virginia St., (775) 8786-5700 1) Showroom 2) Brew Brothers

Karaoke

THURSDAY 5/9

1) The Illusionists Experience, 7pm, $39.95

GrAND SIerrA reSOrT

2500 E. Second St., (775) 789-2000 1) Grand Theatre 2) LEX 3) Crystal Lounge

HArrAH’S LAKe TAHOe HArrAH’S reNO

219 N. Center St., (775) 786-3232 1) Sammy’s Showroom 2) Plaza

1) The Rat Pack Is Back, 7:30pm, $27-$37 1) The Rat Pack Is Back, 7:30pm, $27-$37 1) The Rat Pack Is Back, 7:30pm, $27-$37

MONTBLeU reSOrT

1) Art Garfunkel, 8pm, $40-$50

55 Highway 50, Stateline, (775) 588-3515 1) Showroom 2) Blu 3) Opal

NUGGeT CASINO reSOrT

1) LeAnn Rimes, 8pm, $45-$85

1100 Nugget Ave., Sparks, (775) 356-3300 1) Showroom 2) Ballroom 3) Event Center

PePPerMILL reSOrT SPA CASINO 2707 S. Virginia St., (775) 826-2121 1) Terrace Lounge 2) Edge 3) Capri Ballroom

SILVer LeGACy reSOrT CASINO

407 N. Virginia St., (775) 325-7401 1) GEH 2) Rum Bullions 3) Silver Baron Lounge

2) Tuesday Night Blues with Buddy Emmer and guests, 8pm, Tu, no cover

1) Robin Trower, 7:30pm, $74.30

15 Highway 50, Stateline, (800) 427-7247 1) South Shore Room 2) Casino Center Stage

1) The Inciters, 7pm, no cover

1) The Inciters, 8pm, no cover 2) Latin Dance Social, 7:30pm, $10-$20

1) The Inciters, 8pm, no cover 2) DJ Scene, 10pm, $20

1) Kyle Williams, 6pm, no cover

2) DJ R3volver, 9pm, no cover 3) DJ Mo Funk, 9pm, no cover

1) LOCASH, 8pm, $36-$46 2) Audioboxx, 9pm, no cover 3) Soundwave, 9pm, no cover

1) Apocalyptica, 8pm, $35-$45 2) Audioboxx, 9pm, no cover 3) Soundwave, 9pm, no cover

3) DJ Mo Funk, 9pm, no cover

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Puddle of Mudd • May 10, 2019 Purchase at the RN&R office: 760 Margrave Drive Suite 100 05.09.19

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FOR THE WEEK OF mAy 09, 2019 For a complete listing of this week’s events or to post events to our online calendar, visit www.newsreview.com.

EXPLORING JONES CREEK LOOP: Learn about the flora and fauna of Galena Creek while learning about The Laws Field Guide to the Sierra Nevada by John Muir Laws.

Examine up close the variety of habitats along the Jones Creek Loop. Bring your water bottle, camera, binoculars, sketchbook or whatever else you need to discover nature. Meet at the ISGS Jones Creek trailhead. There will be one hike in the morning and another in the afternoon. Sat, 5/11, 10am & 1pm. Free.

Galena Creek Visitor Center, 18250 Mt. Rose Highway, (775) 849-4948.

GREAT BASIN YOUNG CHAUTAUQUA PRESENTATION: Now in its 26th season,

mAy/11:

RENO RIVER FESTIVAL

Reno’s special events season gets underway this weekend when the Reno River Festival returns for another year of whitewater action on the Truckee River and springtime frivolity on land. Professional and amateur kayakers will navigate the rapids of the river while spectators stay (mostly) dry on the rocks of the Truckee River Whitewater Park in downtown Reno. National, regional and local acts, including headliners Filmore and Cripple Creek Band, will perform all weekend at Wingfield Park. Other festival highlights include the Reno Tahoe Adventure Park featuring a large collection of obstacles, rides, challenges and games; the Craft Beer Experience and Summer Wine Village; the River Roll, a mobile concert on bicycle through the streets of Reno led by The Island of Black and White, on Saturday, May 11; and the Mother-Daughter Look-Alike Contest on Mother’s Day, May 12. The fun takes place from 9 a.m. to 8 p.m. on Saturday, May 11, and 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. on Sunday, May 12, at Wingfield Park and the Truckee River Whitewater Park, between Virginia Street and Arlington Avenue and adjacent streets in downtown Reno. Park admission is free. Visit renoriverfestival.com.

Nevada Humanities’s award-winning program teaches young people learn how to research and develop original Chautauqua presentations. The young scholars, ages 8-18, select an historical figure and then spend four months researching and rehearsing their characters in preparation for performances in the community and during the Great Basin Young Chautauqua Showcase. Sun, 5/12, 1pm. Free. Sundance Books & Music, 121 California Ave., (775) 786-1188.

HANDS ON! SECOND SATURDAYS: The NMA’s monthly program offers free admission, hands-on art activities, storytelling, a docent-guided tour, live performances, and community collaborations. Sat, 5/11, 10am. Free. Nevada Museum of Art, 160 W. Liberty St., (775) 329-3333, www.nevadaart.org.

MAY JUNIOR NATURALIST PROGRAM: Kids are invited to learn all about mammals and how special they are at this event. There will be fun crafts, activities and science.

Visit website to register. Sat, 5/11, 10am. Free. Galena Creek Regional Park, 18250 Mt. Rose Highway, (775) 410-1702, www.tmparksfoundation.org.

MAY SCIENCE BE WITH YOU OPEN HOUSE:

EVENTS

CITY OF RENO PLANT SALE: Find something for your garden at the annual plant sale. Most transplants are only $2.

Contact Dianne at 11dianimal22@gmail. com for plant list or questions. Fri, 5/10, 8am-5pm; Sat, 5/11, 8am-3pm. Free. City of Reno Greenhouse, 190 Telegraph St., (775) 224-1680.

150 YEAR TRANSCONTINENTAL RAILROAD COMMEMORATION: The Nevada Museum of Art commemorates the 150th anniversary of the completion of the Transcontinental Railroad with a ceremony and panel discussion. Artists Zhi Lin and Hung Liu will discuss their artwork made in response to the sacrifices of Chinese railroad workers who raced to complete the rail line that would unite America from east to west in 1869. Following the presentation, a ceremonial gathering will take place at the exact time 150 years ago that the Golden Spike was hammered into the last rail at Promontory, Utah. Fri, 5/10, 1:30pm. $5-$12. Nevada Museum of Art, 160 W. Liberty St., www.nevadaart.org.

4TH ANNUAL TAMANO (SPRING) CRAFT FAIR:

COFFEE AND CIGARETTES: Artemisia MovieHouse presents a screening of the 2003 film directed by Jim Jarmusch.

Jarmusch presents his version of cafe society with 11 vignettes starring Iggy Pop, Tom Waits, Cate Blanchett, Bill Murray and many more as twosomes pondering the obsessions and addictions of life. Sun, 5/12, 6pm. $5-$9. Good Luck Macbeth Theatre Company, 124 W. Taylor St., (775) 636-3386.

CONTRA DANCE: Sierra Contra Dance

The fair features Native American beaded items, jewelry, artwork, books and music, blankets and food, including Indian tacos. Fri, 5/10-Sat, 5/11, 10am. Free. Reno-Sparks Indian Colony, 34 Reservation Road, (775) 636-6618.

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Society will hold its last dance of the season. There will be live music with a caller to walk you through the moves.

Singles and couples are welcome. A beginner’s walk through starts at 7:15pm. Sat, 5/11, 7:30pm. $8-$10.

Southside School, 190 E. Liberty St., sierracontra.org.

The event will feature Desert Research Institute lab tours, hands-on activities with DRI faculty, science exhibits, food trucks, Star Wars characters and New York Times best-selling author and Star Wars archaeologist David West Reynolds, who will show his documentary Journey to Tatouine. This event will also showcase participants in the Nevada K-12 STEM Challenge. This event is part of the inaugural Northern Nevada Science and Technology Festival, which kicks off on May 13. Wed, 5/15, 4pm. Free.

Desert Research Institute, 2215 Raggio Parkway, nnsciencefest.org.

MOTHER’S DAY TEA, TOUR & SOCIAL: Join Arts for All Nevada for a special tea social celebrating all moms on the main floor of the Lake Mansion. Sat, 5/11, 1pm. $35.

Arts for All Nevada, 250 Court St., (775) 826-6100 ext. 2.

NEON WASTELAND CLOSING RECEPTION: The Holland Project hosts a reception for Marie Sophia Sevier Dyer’s exhibition Neon Wasteland, a selection of mobile photography pieces focusing on the various unrealities and nuances of Reno.

The show is on view through May 10. Thu, 5/9, 6-8pm. Free. The Holland Project Satellite Gallery at Cafe Capello, 248 W. First St., Suite 202, www.hollandreno.org.

RENO ACES: Reno’s minor league baseball

team plays the Salt Lake Bees. Sat, 5/11, 6:35pm; Sun, 5/12, 11:05am; Mon, 5/13, 6:35pm; Tue, 5/14, 11:05am. $9-$45.

Greater Nevada Field, 250 Evans Ave, (775) 334-7000, www.milb.com/reno.

RENO DANCE EXPO: The inaugural dance convention is a three-day weekend of performances, workshops and social dancing. Fri, 5/10-Sun, 5/12, 9am. $65$250. Grand Sierra Resort, 2500 E. Second St., www.renodanceexpo.com.

RENO RODEO—100 YEARS STORYTELLING EVENT: The Reno Rodeo celebrates its centennial year with a storytelling presentation. Wine, beer and snacks included. Fri, 5/10, 6pm. $30. Reno Elks Lodge, 597 Kumle Lane, (775) 329-3877, www.renorodeo.com.

RENO STORYTELLERS—PROJECT PARENTING: Enjoy a night of storytelling featuring true, first-person stories about the trials and tribulations of parenting.

Event check-in starts at 5:30pm. Stories begin at 6pm. Seating is first-come, first-served. Thu, 5/9, 6pm. Reno Little Theater, 147 E. Pueblo St., (775) 813-8900.

RENO’S 151ST BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION: The event marks the city’s 151st anniversary.

Enjoy birthday cake and lemonade, guided tours of the Lake Mansion, a free book for each child in attendance, an art station for all ages and the opening of the Reno and the Railroad exhibition, funded by the Union Pacific Foundation, which explains Reno’s association with the Transcontinental Railroad. Thu, 5/9, noon. Free. Lake Mansion, 250 Court St., www.artsforallnevada.org.

RSVP 34th ANNUAL SPRING CARNIVAL: Nevada Rural Counties Retired & Senior Volunteer Program (RSVP) presents its spring carnival featuring live music, food and craft vendors, carnival rides and games designed for all ages. All-day carnival wristbands are $30 at the park with $5 discount coupons available at the RSVP beer booth. Thu, 5/9-Sun, 5/12. Free. Mills Park, 1111 E. William St., Carson City, (775) 687-4680 ext. 7, nevadaruralrsvp.org.

SMALL WONDER WEDNESDAY: The Discovery offers a special morning just for families with children ages 5 and younger every Wednesday. Hear stories, create art and enjoy the entire museum for a full hour before it opens to everyone. Wed, 5/15, 9am. $0-$12. Terry Lee Wells Nevada Discovery Museum (The Discovery), 490 S. Center St., nvdm.org.

SPRING ARTISAN MARKET: Twenty local artisans will sell mosaics, fused glass, copper, basketry, resin art, painting, lino-cut prints and jewelry, among other items. Sat, 5/11, 10am. Free. Copper Cat Studio, 300 Kresge Lane, Sparks, (775) 453-0753, www.coppercatstudio.com.

VILLAGE GREEN BIRD WALKS: Tahoe Institute for Natural Science members will lead morning bird walks at the Village Green every Thursday through June 6. Thu, 5/9, 7:30am. Free. Village Green, 960 Lakeshore Blvd., Incline Village, www.tinsweb.org.

ONSTAGE CLEVER LITTLE LIES: Ageless Repertory Theatre presents Joe DiPietro’s comedy. Fri, 5/10, 1pm. Free. Reno Little Theater, 147 E. Pueblo St., (775) 348-6625, renolittletheater.org/art-at-rlt.

CRAZY FOR YOU: The Western Nevada Musical Theatre Company presents George Gershwin’s Tony-winning Broadway hit. Fri, 5/10-Sat, 5/11, 7:30pm; Sun, 5/12, 2pm. $25-$28. Bob Boldrick Theatre, Carson City Community Center, 851 E. William St., Carson City, www.wnmtc.com.

THE CRUCIBLE: Brüka Theatre continues its 26th season with Arthur Miller’s 1953 classic play. All tickets are $10 on May 15. Thu, 5/9-Sat, 5/11, 7:30pm; Sun, 5/12, 2pm; Wed, 5/15, 7:30pm. $10-$25. Brüka Theatre, 99 N. Virginia St., (775) 323-3221, www.bruka.org.

IAMHER LIVE: An evening of stories, live music and laughter with Misty & Khalilah. Fri, 5/10, 7pm. $25. McKinley Arts & Culture Center, 925 Riverside Drive, iamherlive.eventbrite.com.

EQUUS: Good Luck Macbeth Theatre Company presents Peter Schaeffer’s 1973 psychological thriller. Due to mature themes, situations and nudity, all performances of Equus will be restricted to audience members age 18 and older. Thu, 5/9-Sat, 5/11, 7:30pm. $18-$30.

Good Luck Macbeth Theatre Company, 124 W. Taylor St., (775) 322-3716.

RENO PHIL YOUTH ORCHESTRAS SPRING SHOWCASE: The Reno Phil’s youth orchestras showcase a year of hard work in two concerts. The Youth Symphony Orchestra performs on May 10. The Youth Strings Ensemble, Youth Strings Symphonia and Youth Concert Orchestra will perform on May 11. Fri, 5/10, 5pm; Sat, 5/11, 1pm. $5-$10. Pioneer Center for the Performing Arts, 100 S. Virginia St., (775) 323-6393, www.renophil.com.

ROSANNE CASH—SHE REMEMBERS EVERYTHING: Community Chest, Inc. presents a benefit concert featuring Rosanne Cash with John Leventhal.

Proceeds from this show go toward supporting these CCI’s programs and its ongoing social justice efforts. Fri, 5/10, 8pm. $65. Piper’s Opera House, 12 N. B St., Virginia City, communitychestnevada.net.

SILENT SKY: Restless Artists Theatre presents Lauren Gunderson’s play based on the true story of 19th-century astronomer Henrietta Leavitt. The play explores a woman’s place in society during a time of immense scientific discoveries, when women’s ideas were dismissed until men claimed credit for them. Thu, 5/9-Sat, 5/11, 7:30pm; Sun, 5/12, 2pm. $8-$20. Restless Artists Theatre, 295 20th St., Sparks, (775) 525-3074, www.rattheatre.org.

by AMY ALKON

Pimp my rite My boyfriend dumped me and moved out of our place. I’m on the lease and can’t afford to break it, but it still feels like “our place,” and that’s making it hard to move on. My hippie friend said I should burn sage or light a candle and do a “letting go” meditation. Umm, OK. Can you please explain how rituals like this are bogus and unscientific so I can get her off my back?

Research by Harvard Business School’s Michael I. Norton, among others, actually finds that rituals— symbolic activities we do with some goal in mind—seem to help us feel better: less negative, less anxious and more in control. Amazingly, this is even true for ritual-doers who don’t believe in the rituals.

Annoyingly, researchers aren’t quite sure why rituals have this effect on us. My guess is that we confuse the real with the symbolic.

Research by cognitive neuroscientist Michael Gazzaniga suggests our mind is a master spin doctor, creating stories about our behavior that make us look consistent, rational and smart. And no sooner does it come up with those stories than it turns right around and believes them. In short, our mind is under the impression that we’re not stupid— that if we do something, we must have a good reason.

In other words, your friend is on to something—and you might use this to get her onto another thing: a ladder in your living room. I suggest a painting ritual—painting over your old life to transform the house you shared with your ex into a colorful new home of your own.

Per the research on ritual, ceremony would be an essential part of this—including explicitly calling what you’re doing a “ritual” and saying a few words, the way you would at a funeral. Incorporate a ceremonial tearing-up of a photo of the two of you together and have your friends chant, “Out, out, Steve! You are no longer welcome here!” Then have everybody accompany you to toss the pieces into the Dumpster.

Admittedly, this ritual will probably seem seriously silly while you’re doing it, but you can just choose to buy into it and have a good time. While you’re at it, give your friend some props. She was on the right track in helping

you rid your home of the Ghost of Boyfriend Past—despite suggesting burning a small bunch of cooking herbs when it probably seemed nothing short of arson would do the job.

Tents situation I read in Bon Appétit about this woman who takes all her dates to Olive Garden to see whether they judge her when she pockets all the leftover breadsticks. OK, whatever. But what I wanna see is whether somebody’s a good person. What kind of dates do you suggest for determining a potential boyfriend’s character and values?

People often say you can discover a person’s true character from how they treat the waiter. And sure, rudeness to a waiter is a red flag, but it isn’t like we easily identify the sociopaths among us because they summon the server referee-style, by blowing a whistle.

It helps to consider the roots of good behavior—moral behavior.

That is, why people are good to other people. Evolutionary cognitive scientists Dan Sperber and Nicolas Baumard explain that “People may behave morally because they intrinsically value doing so—a genuine moral reason—or in order to gain the approval of others.” But there’s a complication: We all care about our reputation and doing things that put us in the best light, which is to say both the worst people and the best people behave better when they know they’re being watched.

A person’s true character will come out over time. But there’s a way to speed up the dirtbag detection process—observe a person’s behavior under harsh conditions.

In other words, consider getting kidnapped and held hostage together by the Albanian mob—or, if that’s a little impractical for you, go camping or even just hike some challenging trail. When the chips are down (like if you get injured), that’s when you see: Is he there for you, or is he the type to leave you to die in the wilderness? Ω

ERIK HOLLAND

Got a problem? Write Amy Alkon, 171 Pier Ave., No. 280, Santa Monica, CA 90405, or email AdviceAmy@aol.com (www.advicegoddess.com).

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FRee will astRology

Call for a quote.

(775) 324-4440 ext. 2

For the week oF May 9, 2019

Phone hours: M-F 9am-5pm.

Deadlines for print: Line ad deadline: Monday 4pm Display ad deadline: Friday 2pm

ARIES (March 21-April 19): Time to shake things up!

In the next three weeks, I invite you to try at least three of the following experiments. 1. See unusual sights in familiar situations. 2. Seek out new music that both calms you and excites you. 3. Get an inspiring statue or image of a favorite deity or hero. 4. Ask for a message from the person you will be three years from now. 5. Use your hands and tongue in ways you don’t usually use them.

6. Go in quest of a cathartic release that purges frustration and rouses holy passion. 7. Locate the sweet spot where deep feeling and deep thinking overlap.

All advertising is subject to the newspaper’s Standards of Acceptance.

Further, the News & Review specifically reserves the right to edit, decline or properly classify any ad. Errors will be rectified by re-publication upon notification. The N&R is not responsible for error after the first publication. The N&R assumes no financial liability for errors or omission of copy. In any event, liability shall not exceed the cost of the space occupied by such an error or omission. The advertiser and not the newspaper assumes full responsibility for the truthful content of their advertising message. *Nominal fee for some upgrades.

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GEMINI (May 21-June 20): Here’s a message from

Northern Nevada

author Susan J. Elliott: “This is not your week to run the Universe. Next week is not looking so good either.” Now here’s a message from me: Elliott’s revelation is very good news! Since you won’t have to worry about trying to manage and fine-tune the universe, you can focus all your efforts on your own self-care. And the coming weeks will be a favorable time to do just that.

You’re due to dramatically upgrade your understanding of what you need to feel healthy and happy, and then take the appropriate measures to put your new insights into action.

CANCER (June 21-July 22): The next three weeks

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writer Sarah Zielinski in Smithsonian magazine, fireflies produce the most efficient light on planet Earth. Nearly 100 percent of the energy produced by the chemical reaction inside the insect’s body is emitted as a brilliant glow. With that in mind, I propose that you regard the firefly as your spirit creature in the coming weeks. According to my reading of the astrological omens, you, too, will be a dynamic and proficient generator of luminosity. For best results, don’t tone down your brilliance, even if it illuminates shadows people are trying to hide.

will be an excellent time to serve as your own visionary prophet and dynamic fortune-teller.

The predictions and conjectures you make about your future destiny will have an 85% likelihood of being accurate. They will also be relatively free of fear and worries. So I urge you to give your imagination permission to engage in fun fantasies about what’s ahead for you. Be daringly optimistic and exuberantly hopeful and brazenly self-celebratory.

LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): Leo poet Stanley Kunitz

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TAURUS (April 20-May 20): According to science

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told his students, “You must be very careful not to deprive the poem of its wild origin.” That’s useful advice for anyone who spawns anything, not just poets. There’s something unruly and unpredictable about every creative idea or fresh perspective that rises up in us. Do you remember when you first felt the urge to look for a new job or move to a new city or search for a new kind of relationship? Wildness was there at the inception. And you needed to stay in touch with the wildness so as to follow through with practical action. That’s what I encourage you to do now.

Reconnect with the wild origins of the important changes you’re nurturing.

VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): I have no complaints about

the measures you’ve taken recently to push past unnecessary limits and to break outworn taboos. In fact, I celebrate them. Keep going! You’ll be better off without those decaying constraints. Soon you’ll begin using all the energy you have liberated and the spaciousness you have made available. But I do have one concern: I wonder if part of you is worried that you have been too bold and have gone too far.

To that part of you I say: No! You haven’t been too bold. You haven’t gone too far.

LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): “[I] dreamt of a past that

frees its prisoners.” So wrote Meena Alexander in her poem “Question Time.” I’d love for you to have that experience in the coming weeks. I’d love for you be released from the karma of your history so that you no longer have to repeat old patterns or feel weighed down by what happened to you once upon a time. I’d love for you to no longer have to answer to decayed traditions and outmoded commitments and lost causes. I’d love for you to escape the pull of memories that

tend to drag you back toward things that can’t be changed and don’t matter any more.

SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): “Desire is a profoundly

upsetting force,” writes author Elspeth Probyn.

“It may totally rearrange what we think we want.

Desire skews plans and sets forth unthought-of possibilities.” In my opinion, Probyn’s statements are half-true. The other half of the truth is that desire can also be a profoundly healing and rejuvenating force, and for the same reasons: It rearranges what we think we want, alters plans and unleashes unthought-of possibilities. How does all this relate to you? From what I can tell, you are now on the cusp of desire’s two overlapping powers. What happens next could be upsetting or healing, disorienting or rejuvenating. If you’d like to emphasize the healing and rejuvenating, I suggest you treat desire as a sacred gift and a blessing.

SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): “So much of what we

learn about love is taught by people who never really loved us.” My Sagittarian friend Ellen made that sad observation. Is it true for you? Ellen added the following thoughts: So much of what we learn about love is taught by people who were too narcissistic or wounded to be able to love very well; and by people who didn’t have many listening skills and therefore didn’t know enough about us to love us for who we really are; and by people who love themselves poorly and so, of course, find it hard to love anyone else. Is any of this applicable to what you have experienced, Sagittarius? If so, here’s an antidote that I think you’ll find effective during the next seven weeks: Identify the people who have loved you well and the people who might love you well in the future— and then vow to learn all you can from them.

CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): Capricorn fantasy novelist Laini Taylor creates imaginary worlds where heroines use magic and wiles to follow their bliss while wrangling with gods and rascals. In describing her writing process, she says, “Like a magpie, I am a scavenger of shiny things: fairy tales, dead languages, weird folk beliefs, fascinating religions, and more.” She also writes, “I...have plundered tidbits of history and lore to build something new, using only the parts that light my mind on fire.” I encourage you to adopt her strategies for your own use in the coming weeks. Be alert for gleaming goodies and tricky delicacies and alluring treats. Use them to create new experiences that thrill your imagination. I believe the coming weeks will be an excellent time to use your magic and wiles to follow your bliss while wrangling with gods and rascals.

AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): “I was always asking for the specific thing that wasn’t mine,” wrote poet Joanne Kyger. “I wanted a haven that wasn’t my own.” If there is any part of you that resonates with that defeatist perspective, now is an excellent time to begin outgrowing or transforming it.

I guarantee you that you’ll have the potency you need to retrain yourself: so that you will more and more ask for specific things that can potentially be yours; so that you will more and more want a haven that can be your own.

PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20): I’m not a fan of nagging.

I don’t like to be nagged and I scrupulously avoid nagging others. And yet now I will break my own rules so as to provide you with your most accurate and helpful horoscope. According to my analysis of the astrological omens, you aren’t likely to get what you truly need and deserve in the coming days unless you engage in some polite, diplomatic nagging. So see what you can do to employ nagging as a graceful, even charming art. For best results, infuse it with humor and playfulness.

You can call Rob Brezsny for your Expanded Weekly Horoscope: (900) 950-7700. $1.99 per minute. Must be 18+. Touchtone phone required. Customer service (612) 373-9785.

And don’t forget to check out Rob’s website at realastrology.com.

by MAtt BiEKER

Camera man Gordon Allen

What got you into cameras in the first place?

That’s Dad’s fault. At 4 years old, I played with his cameras. I mean very young. I mean Dad would get out the light meter and the fancy camera and all that kind of stuff, and I said, “I want to start taking pictures.” So, they got me a camera when I was a kid. And so I’ve been doing it all my life. I mean, it’s been like breathing. ... When I first got a real job, very young, I said ... “Dad, I’d like to maybe, you know, maybe Roy” ... a friend of ours owned a camera store in Fullerton, my hometown, Roy’s Photo.

Dad called Roy because they were in a photo club together, and Roy said, “You know, we can use some help in the back room,” and all that kind of stuff. So, I said, “Yeah, I’m in.”

PHOTO/MaTT Bieker

After 30 years in business, Gordon’s Photo Service is closing at the end of June. Gordon Allen, the owner and proprietor, is originally from Southern California and has worked with cameras since he was 15 years old. Aside from shooting professionally, he’s spent the last three decades helping Northern Nevadans make memories at Gordon’s and the Camera Exchange, the shop he owned previously in Carson City.

What did those early days of business look like in Carson?

I opened my store in Carson in 1975. ...

So anyway, it was a lot of fun. I mean, it is a lot of fun. It still is. I liked the people and all that kind of thing. I opened that store, then when Dad joined me, we changed the name, actually, to the Camera Exchange. And then in ’89 I decided to come to Reno and opened a store, and a friend of mine—I mean, I was still involved with Dad in Carson—but I came up here, and a friend of mine said, “Everybody just calls it Gordon’s Photo.

Just call it Gordon’s Photo.” Because, I mean, everybody knew me.

You’ve been a fixture of the community. What went into the decision to close?

Well, 50 years in business, number one.

I’m 65, and actually my father is still alive

at 94, and, to be very honest, I want to spend time with my dad. I mean, I’ll be blunt. Money’s not important. I mean, I’m not a wealthy man, but I have enough so that I can survive comfortably without a lot of issues, which is nice. But I do, I want to go camping with Dad. It sounds funny, but that’s what I—and maybe take a road trip.

He’s still somewhat mobile, and he’s cognizant. So, it’s important for me to give him a little back. ... I’ll miss the people. It has never been about money. It’s always been trying to take care of and provide services or, you know, equipment that people need to produce certain memories.

Gordon’s offers printing and archival services you don’t see very much anymore. Are you worried about the analog resources remaining in town?

You know, maybe somebody will pick up the business. Gordon will be gone, but it’s possible somebody will pick it up. ... And I truly have cultivated that, my sales of film actually increased dramatically. And the processing—my lab manager, she came up, and she showed me the numbers were up 20 percent from last year. So, I mean, it’s significant. I mean, it’s adding up.

And it’s a good service, and we don’t just process film. We do restoration. We do video transfers. We do on and on and on and on. We do all those kinds of things that a lot of places have given up on. Costco doesn’t do it anymore. A lot of places don’t do it anymore or if they do it, I have to say, the quality is not quite the same. Ω

by BRUCE VAN DYKE

Move it on over “If you ask him why he lies, he would, of course, lie.” —George Conway.

I’m sure by now you’ve noticed. When it comes to the Rule of Law, subpoenas, contempt citations, congressional oversight, etc., etc., President Capone and his army of slithering lickspittles (a.k.a. all Republicans in D.C.) simply do not give even the tiniest of fux. Dum Dum now brazenly says, “Hey, send all the bleepin’ subpoenas you want. Send all the requests for documents and emails you want.

You know what me and Sarah and Kellyanne and Ivanka and Jared are gonna do with those requests? We’re going to shred them. We’re going to ignore them. And what the fuck are you gonna do about it?”

That’s a good question. What are we going to do about it? Anything? Any goddamn thing? Ever?

Actually, I believe we are. Yes, things might be moving a tad slowly on some legal fronts, but they are indeed moving along and in the proper direction. And if we’re gonna be the folks who say we still give a shit about The Game and How It’s Played, well then, we better play it, and play it good. There are some dandy committees in The House, headed by smart, competent folks (Nadler, Waters, Neal, Cummings, Schiff) who know what they’re doing and are ready to get after it. And the AG in New York, Letitia James? Trump’s worst nightmare. She is the Wicked Witch of Albany, and she has some very ornery bat-monkey lawyers who are all hot and itchy to swarm anything Trump.

But as we wait for The Game to play out, it’s kinda like the ReTrumplicans have installed The Joker as President (which,

come to think of it, is pretty much exactly what has taken place).

The Joker Prez says, “Hey folks, you can go right ahead and kiss my mottled ass. I don’t give two crusty dog poops about your congressional oversight bullshit.

You see the latest unemployment stats? 3.6 percent. So don’t bore me with this oversight stuff. Just go to work, pay off your jet-ski, and STFU. OK? I gotta run now, Vlad’s on the horn.”

And isn’t it odd how Twitler now doesn’t want The Great Exonerator to speak to Congress? One would think that if there was one guy in the whole stinkin’ USA that Trump would want to have yakkin’ it up out there on every chat show from The View to The Zoo, it would be Mueller Himself, out there on the fruited plain doin’ some tip top, non stop exoneratin’. Gee, Joker, what up? Ω

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