Westward ho! Bright lights, big titties! Come see her mountains! We put the strip in strip-mining! Georgetown: Where the scenery is on us, and the mayor is on you. Thanks to a mayor with a penchant for inflating both her stories and her breasts, Georgetown wound up in the media G-spotlight this past year. Stripper-turned-hairdresser-turned-mayor Koleen Brooks kept the old mining town hopping with her attempts to oust city officials, her admission of pot-smoking, her insistence that she'd been assaulted (CBI investigation to the contrary). But in the end, her antics were self-defeating and her career self-deflating, another in the series of endless boom-and-bust and boom-boom-and-bustline tales that abound in the West. The results of an April 2 recall election may keep things quiet in Georgetown for a while, but damn, it was fun while it lasted.


Denver's short on seafood restaurants, and Wynkoop Brewing Co. owner John Hickenlooper is long -- very long -- on lost causes. Could any cause be more lost than Ocean Journey's? If the place does tank -- and it's only barely keeping its head above water in bankruptcy court -- Hickenlooper could be the one to pull it up from the depths, turning the fried fish house into Long John Hickenlooper's, a restaurant where diners get to watch their favorite fish become the catch of the day. Come on, John, take the bait!
Denver's short on seafood restaurants, and Wynkoop Brewing Co. owner John Hickenlooper is long -- very long -- on lost causes. Could any cause be more lost than Ocean Journey's? If the place does tank -- and it's only barely keeping its head above water in bankruptcy court -- Hickenlooper could be the one to pull it up from the depths, turning the fried fish house into Long John Hickenlooper's, a restaurant where diners get to watch their favorite fish become the catch of the day. Come on, John, take the bait!


Hey, if Time magazine could sell Jefferson County Sheriff John Stone a bill of goods, there's no reason why he shouldn't be able to return the favor. Back in the fall of 1999, when it seemed as though the wounds of Columbine might actually start healing, Sheriff Stone got snookered by a Time magazine reporter, who got Stone to pose for an embarrassing photo with the killers' guns -- and also let Time see tapes that Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold had made in Harris's basement, tapes that Jeffco hadn't yet shown the victims' families. The magazine used him as a dupe, Stone said. Or was that dope? With a dozen candidates now running for sheriff, almost all of them on Stone's record, the current sheriff should soon have plenty of dialing time.
Hey, if Time magazine could sell Jefferson County Sheriff John Stone a bill of goods, there's no reason why he shouldn't be able to return the favor. Back in the fall of 1999, when it seemed as though the wounds of Columbine might actually start healing, Sheriff Stone got snookered by a Time magazine reporter, who got Stone to pose for an embarrassing photo with the killers' guns -- and also let Time see tapes that Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold had made in Harris's basement, tapes that Jeffco hadn't yet shown the victims' families. The magazine used him as a dupe, Stone said. Or was that dope? With a dozen candidates now running for sheriff, almost all of them on Stone's record, the current sheriff should soon have plenty of dialing time.


Sorry, wrong number. Coloradans have lots of ideas for what current Qwest CEO Joe Nacchio should do next -- and most can't be published even in this newspaper. But if we really want Jumpin' Joe to feel our pain, a position as a prison janitor, or a checkout clerk for Kmart blue-light specials, or an Arthur Andersen accountant, just isn't bad enough. Much better that he be demoted to Qwest customer service, where he can listen to customer complaints for all eternity without a hold button as an option.
Sorry, wrong number. Coloradans have lots of ideas for what current Qwest CEO Joe Nacchio should do next -- and most can't be published even in this newspaper. But if we really want Jumpin' Joe to feel our pain, a position as a prison janitor, or a checkout clerk for Kmart blue-light specials, or an Arthur Andersen accountant, just isn't bad enough. Much better that he be demoted to Qwest customer service, where he can listen to customer complaints for all eternity without a hold button as an option.


When he retires as House Speaker this fall, state representative Doug Dean should have a lock on any future opening Home Depot might have for a greeter. After all, Dean knows how handy the right tools can be. With a screwdriver he just happened to find in his car, for example, he was able to break into his then-fiancée's home last May (reportedly to retrieve his cell phone), netting him lots of embarrassing headlines, a domestic-violence investigation (no charges, though), and, this past fall, a new wife. Ain't love grand?
When he retires as House Speaker this fall, state representative Doug Dean should have a lock on any future opening Home Depot might have for a greeter. After all, Dean knows how handy the right tools can be. With a screwdriver he just happened to find in his car, for example, he was able to break into his then-fiancée's home last May (reportedly to retrieve his cell phone), netting him lots of embarrassing headlines, a domestic-violence investigation (no charges, though), and, this past fall, a new wife. Ain't love grand?


Since September 11, security screeners at Denver International Airport have confiscated enough scrap metal -- in the form of nail clippers, scissors and letter openers -- to build a 747, and fondled enough underwire bras to get second jobs as mammographers. But according to Denver police officers stationed at DIA, the most suspicious and potentially dangerous item confiscated to date were some deer antlers. What, did they think a terrorist might rut his way into the cockpit? D'oe!

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