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Best Comment on the CU Recruiting Scandal

Joyce Lebra

When retired University of Colorado history professor Joyce Lebra learned that she'd be receiving the University Medal, a service award given by CU, she sent a letter to the Board of Regents. It was not a thank-you note. "The massive concrete stadium structure looming over the campus stands as a symbol of the gross distortion of priorities at the university and moreover is incongruent with the architecture of the campus," Lebra wrote. "The football program has proven, moreover, to foster a culture of sexism and misogyny where harassment and rape of women has occurred repeatedly."

She turned down the award.

In the beginning, the Colorado campaign for the U.S. Senate was looking about as exciting as an election in pre-invasion Iraq. No one thought incumbent Republican Ben Nighthorse Campbell could be defeated, least of all prominent Democrats, who treated their party's nomination like a case of SARS, to be avoided at all cost. But after Dem wild card Rutt Bridges, whose lack of name recognition was balanced by a surplus of disposable cash, finally volunteered for slaughter, all hell broke loose. First, Campbell aide Ginnie Kontnik resigned in the face of kickback accusations from former Campbell staffer Brian Thompson. Then, with a congressional investigation looming, Campbell used a case of acid reflux as rationale for retiring. His decision spawned the political equivalent of Survivor -- except in this case, the contestants were voting themselves out. Representative Mark Udall declared his candidacy one day, then undeclared the next. Bridges removed his hat from the ring, too, after Attorney General Ken Salazar, who'd previously expressed no interest in the race, changed his mind. That move, of course, was inspired by somewhat-freshly separated Governor Bill Owens just saying no, followed by a laundry list of conservative politicos -- including Bob Beauprez, Mike Coffman, Tom Tancredo and Jane Norton -- doing the same, leaving ex-Congressman Bob Schaffer as the last Republican standing.

The way it looks now, Salazar will snag the seat for the Democratic Party. Which is only fair, since Nighthorse Campbell was the one who took it away from the Dems a decade ago, when he changed political horses mid-term.

In the beginning, the Colorado campaign for the U.S. Senate was looking about as exciting as an election in pre-invasion Iraq. No one thought incumbent Republican Ben Nighthorse Campbell could be defeated, least of all prominent Democrats, who treated their party's nomination like a case of SARS, to be avoided at all cost. But after Dem wild card Rutt Bridges, whose lack of name recognition was balanced by a surplus of disposable cash, finally volunteered for slaughter, all hell broke loose. First, Campbell aide Ginnie Kontnik resigned in the face of kickback accusations from former Campbell staffer Brian Thompson. Then, with a congressional investigation looming, Campbell used a case of acid reflux as rationale for retiring. His decision spawned the political equivalent of Survivor -- except in this case, the contestants were voting themselves out. Representative Mark Udall declared his candidacy one day, then undeclared the next. Bridges removed his hat from the ring, too, after Attorney General Ken Salazar, who'd previously expressed no interest in the race, changed his mind. That move, of course, was inspired by somewhat-freshly separated Governor Bill Owens just saying no, followed by a laundry list of conservative politicos -- including Bob Beauprez, Mike Coffman, Tom Tancredo and Jane Norton -- doing the same, leaving ex-Congressman Bob Schaffer as the last Republican standing.

The way it looks now, Salazar will snag the seat for the Democratic Party. Which is only fair, since Nighthorse Campbell was the one who took it away from the Dems a decade ago, when he changed political horses mid-term.


Before the Arapahoe County Clerk's office was revealed to be the state's top passion pit, then-clerk Tracy Baker used office equipment to tell Leesa Sale, the woman he'd made his chief deputy assistant, of his admiration for her work. "Wet huh," he messaged her on January 24, 2002. "Get in here and we'll play a little dare game. I MUST HAVE YOU. I AM VERY UNSETTLED. PPLLEEAASSEE." Two years and the release of over a hundred of those messages later, Baker was recalled by the voters of Arapahoe County.
Before the Arapahoe County Clerk's office was revealed to be the state's top passion pit, then-clerk Tracy Baker used office equipment to tell Leesa Sale, the woman he'd made his chief deputy assistant, of his admiration for her work. "Wet huh," he messaged her on January 24, 2002. "Get in here and we'll play a little dare game. I MUST HAVE YOU. I AM VERY UNSETTLED. PPLLEEAASSEE." Two years and the release of over a hundred of those messages later, Baker was recalled by the voters of Arapahoe County.


"Get your ass in here."

Days after Tracy Baker was recalled, Chief Deputy Assistant Leesa Sale was put on administrative leave from the clerk's office.

"Get your ass in here."

Days after Tracy Baker was recalled, Chief Deputy Assistant Leesa Sale was put on administrative leave from the clerk's office.


The My Twinn phone lines were still connected in late March -- even to the Doll Hospital extensions! -- but no human voices were answering. Which wasn't surprising, because on January 29, involuntary Chapter 7 bankruptcy proceedings had been filed in U.S. Bankruptcy Court against the Lifelike Company of Englewood, maker of the My Twinn dolls. Say what you will -- and everyone says plenty -- about the transgressions of the telecommunication giants, the pain they inflicted was squat compared with the trauma caused by a firm that kept wee tots waiting in vain for their cherubic doll-clones. Last year, more than 700 complaints were filed with the Colorado Attorney General by My Twinn stiffees who'd ponied up between $80 and $150 for their own special dolls and accessories. An apologetic open letter on the My Twinn website (last updated January 17) offered a variety of reasons why the firm had to shut down its nine-year-old, money-losing operation. But all was not yet lost: The website promised that all dolls in the Doll Hospital would be discharged. Of course, their plastic wounds would mend faster than the broken human hearts that litter the nation's Twinn-less landscape.
The My Twinn phone lines were still connected in late March -- even to the Doll Hospital extensions! -- but no human voices were answering. Which wasn't surprising, because on January 29, involuntary Chapter 7 bankruptcy proceedings had been filed in U.S. Bankruptcy Court against the Lifelike Company of Englewood, maker of the My Twinn dolls. Say what you will -- and everyone says plenty -- about the transgressions of the telecommunication giants, the pain they inflicted was squat compared with the trauma caused by a firm that kept wee tots waiting in vain for their cherubic doll-clones. Last year, more than 700 complaints were filed with the Colorado Attorney General by My Twinn stiffees who'd ponied up between $80 and $150 for their own special dolls and accessories. An apologetic open letter on the My Twinn website (last updated January 17) offered a variety of reasons why the firm had to shut down its nine-year-old, money-losing operation. But all was not yet lost: The website promised that all dolls in the Doll Hospital would be discharged. Of course, their plastic wounds would mend faster than the broken human hearts that litter the nation's Twinn-less landscape.


Until last fall, G. Brown was the city's most prominent music critic -- a staple in the Denver Post since the days when Boz Scaggs was a hitmaker, not a trivia question, and Yusuf Islam was still known as Cat Stevens. Not even an early-'90s suspension from the Post for essentially lifting the lead for a Keith Richards review from an item in Rolling Stone could knock him off his perch. Then, last October, Brown wrote a preview of a Simon & Garfunkel appearance so littered with appropriations from other sources that a Post investigation didn't even find them all. Brown characterized these borrowings as boo-boos, not chronic plagiarism, but resigned anyway in favor of a DJ gig at KCUV. The station's website, www.kcuvradio.com, includes a section called "What Can G. Brown Do For You?" that's loaded with past Brown articles, none of which are attributed to the Post or any other publication. 'Cause they can't make him resign again.

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