I went to a great dinner party last night. How great a dinner party, you ask? Well, let me just say that I now know this:
Archbishop Hurley does a fantastic Ted Sadtler/Mattress Ranch dance.
And yes. You wish you’d been there.
Friday, July 04, 2008
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Nitpick Much?
Listen, I'm all about spelling, grammar and vocab. And compared to most of what goes on in the reader comments at ADN.com, this is tame. But this comment, from a story about a guy from my high school who received an NAACP Theatre Award, is ridiculous:
Of course, we both know that you don't really need a definition of "chops." You know what the word means, and if you don't, you clearly have the ability to use the Internet and figure it out. (If you can use the online AP stylebook, a paid subscription service, you can use Google, for crying out loud.) If you want to take the Daily News to task, save it for something relevant.
(Side Note: Maybe I should stop here and disclaim that I've been freelancing for the ADN off and on since 1996, and maybe that colors my response a little. Some complaints about the newspaper are valid. But using the word "chops"? Don't you think we've gone a little overboard here? If there's anyone out there in whom that comment doesn't trigger an automatic eye-rolling reflex...)
Listen, ADN user "bumsonfire": It's not the newspaper's fault if your slang vocabulary sucks. Guess what? Feature stories are allowed to use terminology appropriate to the subject at hand. (Ever read the sports section?) If you really want to know what the word means, maybe you could start by, say, using Google?What is a chop? I don't find it in my dictionary, which is the same one every ADN reporter has on his/her desk. I'm going to look in the AP's online stylebook right now. I'll bet it's not in there.
Of course, we both know that you don't really need a definition of "chops." You know what the word means, and if you don't, you clearly have the ability to use the Internet and figure it out. (If you can use the online AP stylebook, a paid subscription service, you can use Google, for crying out loud.) If you want to take the Daily News to task, save it for something relevant.
(Side Note: Maybe I should stop here and disclaim that I've been freelancing for the ADN off and on since 1996, and maybe that colors my response a little. Some complaints about the newspaper are valid. But using the word "chops"? Don't you think we've gone a little overboard here? If there's anyone out there in whom that comment doesn't trigger an automatic eye-rolling reflex...)
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Time To Pay The Piper
Despite my many cross-country moves and clever graduate-school ruse, the wily crew at the Alaska Commission on Postsecondary Education have managed to track me down. (HA HA HA! Just kidding, guys! I would never try to duck out on my student loans, I totally swear.) I got the telltale letter(s) in the mail today. (Side Note: By the way? Three letters? Is that truly necessary? I understand there are multiple loans, but okay, I get it. It’s time to start paying them back again. Once is pretty much enough. No more trees need to die for me to figure it out. I have seven years of higher education under my belt, as you are well aware.)
I called in to the automated system to find out when my first payment will be due (because, curiously, that information was excluded from the three separate letters I received. Not. Helpful.) and the chipper, computerized telephone lady read me the balance on my account, a number that delivered a punch to my gut not unlike the feeling Lynne Spears must have every time one of her daughters’ names pops up on her caller ID. Turns out my student loans for BA and MFA combined total an amount roughly approximate to oh, say, a down payment on the Taj Mahal.
So, Internets, question: If I can bring in, on average, freelance income that meets or exceeds my student loan payment, is it fair to say my degrees are paying for themselves? And also, Internets, do you happen to need a richly-educated freelance writer?
I called in to the automated system to find out when my first payment will be due (because, curiously, that information was excluded from the three separate letters I received. Not. Helpful.) and the chipper, computerized telephone lady read me the balance on my account, a number that delivered a punch to my gut not unlike the feeling Lynne Spears must have every time one of her daughters’ names pops up on her caller ID. Turns out my student loans for BA and MFA combined total an amount roughly approximate to oh, say, a down payment on the Taj Mahal.
So, Internets, question: If I can bring in, on average, freelance income that meets or exceeds my student loan payment, is it fair to say my degrees are paying for themselves? And also, Internets, do you happen to need a richly-educated freelance writer?
The Portland Report
As I mentioned last week, I spent the weekend in Portland, one of my three homes. With two teeny-tiny LIFE-SUCKING little exceptions, the weekend was totally perfect. The exceptions, you ask? (1) I forgot that Mehling Hall, my nearly-always home between August 1997 and May 2001, is, in fact, a bunker, and therefore my Clearwire got no signal. Quelle tragique, for I could have liveblogged the (2) oppressive heat, or at least I could have blogged it until approximately 8:45 p.m. on Saturday, when the heat stopped being a novelty (honestly, after all those summers in the Poconos, a girl likes to be good and hot once in a while) and I succumbed to a bout of extreme dehydration that kept me up most of the night, thrashing under wet towels in a feverish haze and listening to The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie on iTunes in a vain attempt to keep my mind off my crippling nausea.
Ah, college memories.
At any rate, with the exception of those two itsy-bitsy little inconveniences, I enjoyed a very productive National Alumni Board meeting, reconnected with some favorite friends, saw my godson, drank some good beer, went to Target and Powell’s, drove most of the Washington length of I-5 (what a lovely, efficient stretch of road) and generally had a ball.
Some observations:
• Have I mentioned before how much I hate, hate, hate to fly? Oh — I see that I have. Well, in that case I won’t go on too much about it, except to say that unless it was really super crazy windy in both Anchorage and Seattle on Wednesday, our pilot did not do so great a job with the whole flying-in-a-stable-manner-so-as-to-keep-me-from-thinking-I’m-going-to-die thing. Thank God for Xanax.
• Driving through Tigard on my way out to Sean and Alicia’s house, I passed a tent by the side of the road where a high school band was holding a fundraiser: a fireworks sale. A large sign assured potential customers: “Credit Cards Accepted!” I looked for something resembling an adult chaperone but didn’t see one. So, a group of unsupervised teenagers in a roadside tent full of explosives, taking people’s credit card numbers — what could possibly go wrong?
• True story: It is now against the law to throw away garbage in Oregon. In fact, they’ve done away with the idea of trash completely. Instead of garbage cans, there are compost bins and recycling stations. Also, much like vodka, plastic flatware is now made out of potatoes. (Side Note: Unlike vodka, however, this flatware will not totally eff you up and leave you wishing you would have stayed home the night before, or at least left before the fourth “one last round.”) Good luck finding someplace to pitch your gum wrapper.
• I left Sean and Alicia’s around lunchtime Saturday to drive back to campus for choir practice. “Choir practice,” Alicia said, “that sounds prissy.” Which might mean something if it weren’t coming from a woman who, if the yearbooks I looked through Friday night are any indication, spent four years in the late 1990s running around Montana in a sequined leotard twirling a baton.
• I have now spent the night on every single level of Mehling Hall except the fifth floor and the basement. (Side Note: Also, technically I have never spent a whole night on the roof, although I have spent long nights up there.)
• Notable changes to North Portland: There is now a Panda Express on North Interstate. This would have been a fixture in my weekend plans had it been there during my undergraduate days. Also, I notice that the I-5 signage for the Failing Pedestrian Bridge has been changed to read Failing Street Pedestrian Bridge. This is, I am sure, reassuring for the entire community.
• I didn’t have a car during those four years in Portland, so while my command of the road system isn’t anything even beginning to approach comprehensive, I can handle the basics: Campus to Powell’s, Powell’s to Nordstrom Rack, Nordstrom Rack to campus.
• I borrowed the car my parents keep at a self-storage lot near Sea-Tac. It’s a mid-90s Crown Victoria; in other words (as I said to my dad when he showed me pictures before they bought it), an OMC*. “Sweet ride,” Sean said when he saw it parked outside his house. The car itself is actually kind of cool (you don’t see bench seats too often anymore), although given the heat, I did wish the A/C worked.
• I didn’t do much shopping this trip, although MLB has already expressed his disapproval of the hot-pink “Frankie Says Relax” t-shirt he spotted draped over the edge of my bag. Also, is it weird that I went all the way to Oregon and brought back liquid fabric softener? It’s just that I can’t find Method fabric softener anywhere in town, and the USPS is tetchy about shipping “hazardous materials” so to order it I’d end up paying more for shipping (UPS next-day air) than I would for the actual product. (Side Note: Other things the USPS doesn’t want to ship to Alaska: Nail polish, Mrs. Meyer’s cleaning products, and anti-bacterial hand lotion. But it is okay to mail scorpions and bees. Color me crazy, but if I worked for the postal service, I’d rather deal with leaky fabric softener than escaped bees.)
* Old Man Car
Ah, college memories.
At any rate, with the exception of those two itsy-bitsy little inconveniences, I enjoyed a very productive National Alumni Board meeting, reconnected with some favorite friends, saw my godson, drank some good beer, went to Target and Powell’s, drove most of the Washington length of I-5 (what a lovely, efficient stretch of road) and generally had a ball.
Some observations:
• Have I mentioned before how much I hate, hate, hate to fly? Oh — I see that I have. Well, in that case I won’t go on too much about it, except to say that unless it was really super crazy windy in both Anchorage and Seattle on Wednesday, our pilot did not do so great a job with the whole flying-in-a-stable-manner-so-as-to-keep-me-from-thinking-I’m-going-to-die thing. Thank God for Xanax.
• Driving through Tigard on my way out to Sean and Alicia’s house, I passed a tent by the side of the road where a high school band was holding a fundraiser: a fireworks sale. A large sign assured potential customers: “Credit Cards Accepted!” I looked for something resembling an adult chaperone but didn’t see one. So, a group of unsupervised teenagers in a roadside tent full of explosives, taking people’s credit card numbers — what could possibly go wrong?
• True story: It is now against the law to throw away garbage in Oregon. In fact, they’ve done away with the idea of trash completely. Instead of garbage cans, there are compost bins and recycling stations. Also, much like vodka, plastic flatware is now made out of potatoes. (Side Note: Unlike vodka, however, this flatware will not totally eff you up and leave you wishing you would have stayed home the night before, or at least left before the fourth “one last round.”) Good luck finding someplace to pitch your gum wrapper.
• I left Sean and Alicia’s around lunchtime Saturday to drive back to campus for choir practice. “Choir practice,” Alicia said, “that sounds prissy.” Which might mean something if it weren’t coming from a woman who, if the yearbooks I looked through Friday night are any indication, spent four years in the late 1990s running around Montana in a sequined leotard twirling a baton.
• I have now spent the night on every single level of Mehling Hall except the fifth floor and the basement. (Side Note: Also, technically I have never spent a whole night on the roof, although I have spent long nights up there.)
• Notable changes to North Portland: There is now a Panda Express on North Interstate. This would have been a fixture in my weekend plans had it been there during my undergraduate days. Also, I notice that the I-5 signage for the Failing Pedestrian Bridge has been changed to read Failing Street Pedestrian Bridge. This is, I am sure, reassuring for the entire community.
• I didn’t have a car during those four years in Portland, so while my command of the road system isn’t anything even beginning to approach comprehensive, I can handle the basics: Campus to Powell’s, Powell’s to Nordstrom Rack, Nordstrom Rack to campus.
• I borrowed the car my parents keep at a self-storage lot near Sea-Tac. It’s a mid-90s Crown Victoria; in other words (as I said to my dad when he showed me pictures before they bought it), an OMC*. “Sweet ride,” Sean said when he saw it parked outside his house. The car itself is actually kind of cool (you don’t see bench seats too often anymore), although given the heat, I did wish the A/C worked.
• I didn’t do much shopping this trip, although MLB has already expressed his disapproval of the hot-pink “Frankie Says Relax” t-shirt he spotted draped over the edge of my bag. Also, is it weird that I went all the way to Oregon and brought back liquid fabric softener? It’s just that I can’t find Method fabric softener anywhere in town, and the USPS is tetchy about shipping “hazardous materials” so to order it I’d end up paying more for shipping (UPS next-day air) than I would for the actual product. (Side Note: Other things the USPS doesn’t want to ship to Alaska: Nail polish, Mrs. Meyer’s cleaning products, and anti-bacterial hand lotion. But it is okay to mail scorpions and bees. Color me crazy, but if I worked for the postal service, I’d rather deal with leaky fabric softener than escaped bees.)
* Old Man Car
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
The Dreaminess Continues
I love it. I break the news of the AFL-CIO's endorsement of Mark Begich days before anyone else in the world -- in the whole world, kids -- and no one cares, but I toss off a Tiger Beat-style rundown of how state politicians stack up in the looks department and suddenly I'm the Alaska version of Dooce. Okay, Internet! I hear you! Less boring political stuff, more schoolgirl gossip!
In that spirit, I should tell you that the other day my mom ran into both Mark Begich and Ethan Berkowitz (separately) and introduced herself as the mother of Myster, which cased darling Mayor Mark to slap himself in the head (as though he shoulda hadda V-8) and laugh, and to which Ethan replied stoically that he had not seen the post in question (Side Note: He may be the only person in town who can say this; also, apparently it was read over the air on a political talk show in Fairbanks) but that his good friend Les Gara was keeping him updated. I hear Les has been giving Ethan a hard time about being "the write-in candidate."
Meanwhile, about a million people have found their way here through Andrew Halcro's blog, where he's linked to the post and said he's "flattered," although apparently he'd rather be known for brains than for beauty. Don't worry, Andrew, I think you're plenty smart, too. (Hopefully he hasn't also read this post in which I speculate about what would happen if we ran away together.)
Finally, I've gotten quite a bit of e-mail regarding this post (thank you to everyone who wrote in -- it's nice to know there are people out there who appreciate my cutting edge political commentary), but the observation I feel you will all be better for having been made aware of comes from Family Friend Elyse, whose brother is Rep. David Guttenberg of House District 8, and who writes that her beloved brother
In that spirit, I should tell you that the other day my mom ran into both Mark Begich and Ethan Berkowitz (separately) and introduced herself as the mother of Myster, which cased darling Mayor Mark to slap himself in the head (as though he shoulda hadda V-8) and laugh, and to which Ethan replied stoically that he had not seen the post in question (Side Note: He may be the only person in town who can say this; also, apparently it was read over the air on a political talk show in Fairbanks) but that his good friend Les Gara was keeping him updated. I hear Les has been giving Ethan a hard time about being "the write-in candidate."
Meanwhile, about a million people have found their way here through Andrew Halcro's blog, where he's linked to the post and said he's "flattered," although apparently he'd rather be known for brains than for beauty. Don't worry, Andrew, I think you're plenty smart, too. (Hopefully he hasn't also read this post in which I speculate about what would happen if we ran away together.)
Finally, I've gotten quite a bit of e-mail regarding this post (thank you to everyone who wrote in -- it's nice to know there are people out there who appreciate my cutting edge political commentary), but the observation I feel you will all be better for having been made aware of comes from Family Friend Elyse, whose brother is Rep. David Guttenberg of House District 8, and who writes that her beloved brother
"...is not just your run of the mill hunk. He is a certifiable Look Alike for that all-American hero, Mark Twain. See for yourself."See for yourself indeed:
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Hitting The Road
Holy cow. Do you know how many people read Alaska Newsreader? A lot, it turns out. Including some politicians who were not included on my list of Alaska's Dreamiest. Thanks for not taking it personally, guys. You can stop sending me pictures of yourselves now. (Seriously. You know who you are.)
Meanwhile, in less-entertaining local news, the Exxon Valdez decision came out today, and boy, does it suck for Alaska's fisherfolk, although it did result in at least one clever comment on ADN.com -- something about Exxon ringing up the front desk and asking the receptionist to take the punitive damages money out of petty cash. (Side Note: Get it? Because oil companies make a lot of money. Even though sometimes their employees get a little drunk and spill zillions of gallons of crude oil into your ocean and devastate lots of small commercial fishing operations. Oopsie daisy!) Anyway, what with the streets starting to fill with salty-smelling plaintiffs with Xtratufs on their feet, halibut clubs in their hands and crazed, bloodthirsty looks in their eyes, I figure it's a good time to get the heck out of Dodge.
That's right, kids, time for another Weekend In Portland. It's National Alumni Board meeting time down at the old alma mater, and then there's Reunion weekend... and, of course, a trip to Target is in the cards since ours won't be opening until October. (Side Note: There have been rumors circulating about a Whole Foods, too, which I kind of don't want because I'd hate to see people abandon the Natural Pantry, although I do love Whole Foods, particularly the basement Whole Foods at the Time Warner Center in Columbus Circle, where I stopped for many a Jamba Juice en route to New Jersey in my city days. Also, people keep mentioning P.F. Chang's, which never fails to ignite in my brain an overwhelming lust for PFC's ma po tofu, although it turns out that craving can be switched off by -- and perhaps permanently replaced by -- the su-zi tofu at the Thai place on Spenard, where MLB took me for dinner last night. Oh. my. goodness. A tasty little reminder that chain restaurants are not crucial to urban happiness.) And I'm super excited to take my new Clearwire modem on the road. The Internets! I haz it! Wherever there's an outlet! Well, maybe not in a bunker or bomb shelter. But since my recent trips to PDX have generally been bunker-free, I'm not anticipating such a visit this time around.
Also? Did I mention? The forecast for Rip City this weekend?
Eighty-six degrees and abundantly sunny. For reals.
Meanwhile, in less-entertaining local news, the Exxon Valdez decision came out today, and boy, does it suck for Alaska's fisherfolk, although it did result in at least one clever comment on ADN.com -- something about Exxon ringing up the front desk and asking the receptionist to take the punitive damages money out of petty cash. (Side Note: Get it? Because oil companies make a lot of money. Even though sometimes their employees get a little drunk and spill zillions of gallons of crude oil into your ocean and devastate lots of small commercial fishing operations. Oopsie daisy!) Anyway, what with the streets starting to fill with salty-smelling plaintiffs with Xtratufs on their feet, halibut clubs in their hands and crazed, bloodthirsty looks in their eyes, I figure it's a good time to get the heck out of Dodge.
That's right, kids, time for another Weekend In Portland. It's National Alumni Board meeting time down at the old alma mater, and then there's Reunion weekend... and, of course, a trip to Target is in the cards since ours won't be opening until October. (Side Note: There have been rumors circulating about a Whole Foods, too, which I kind of don't want because I'd hate to see people abandon the Natural Pantry, although I do love Whole Foods, particularly the basement Whole Foods at the Time Warner Center in Columbus Circle, where I stopped for many a Jamba Juice en route to New Jersey in my city days. Also, people keep mentioning P.F. Chang's, which never fails to ignite in my brain an overwhelming lust for PFC's ma po tofu, although it turns out that craving can be switched off by -- and perhaps permanently replaced by -- the su-zi tofu at the Thai place on Spenard, where MLB took me for dinner last night. Oh. my. goodness. A tasty little reminder that chain restaurants are not crucial to urban happiness.) And I'm super excited to take my new Clearwire modem on the road. The Internets! I haz it! Wherever there's an outlet! Well, maybe not in a bunker or bomb shelter. But since my recent trips to PDX have generally been bunker-free, I'm not anticipating such a visit this time around.
Also? Did I mention? The forecast for Rip City this weekend?
Eighty-six degrees and abundantly sunny. For reals.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Berkowitz Fans To OTS: Ethan Wuz Robbed
Wow. Who knew there were so many Ethan Berkowitz fans out there?
Yesterday my list of Alaska’s best-looking political men was featured on ADN's Alaska Newsreader, and it turns out a number of you (I do hope some of you came back; there’s lots more intense political insight where that came from) are big Ethan Berkowitz fans — and it’s got nothing to do with his politics. If
you know what I mean.
My own mother, in fact, e-mailed multiple times to find out how I could possibly have left Ethan off the list.
“What about this?” she wrote underneath a sepiatone Google images result. “What’s not to like?”
So, Anchorage, point taken. You have a big fat giant crush on Ethan Berkowitz. He’s a real live Democrat dreamboat. You think he is totally adorable, and I’m not arguing. To be perfectly honest, he was shortlisted, along with James LaBelle and Jake Metcalfe. And if I had all the time in the world, I’d dedicate an entire post to enumerating the pulchritudinous qualities of each and every one of these gentlemen. But a girl’s got things to do, kids. The greenhouse, it does not water itself.
Also, I had an e-mail from Les Gara last night and he assures me that he’s spoken to Ethan and Ethan will be fine.
In the interest of keeping the peace, I will concede that yes, Ethan Berkowitz is a very attractive man. But I stand by my selections.
I notice no one’s complaining about the inclusion of Young Mike Gravel, though. Who knew, right? Hubba hubba.
Yesterday my list of Alaska’s best-looking political men was featured on ADN's Alaska Newsreader, and it turns out a number of you (I do hope some of you came back; there’s lots more intense political insight where that came from) are big Ethan Berkowitz fans — and it’s got nothing to do with his politics. If
you know what I mean.My own mother, in fact, e-mailed multiple times to find out how I could possibly have left Ethan off the list.
“What about this?” she wrote underneath a sepiatone Google images result. “What’s not to like?”
So, Anchorage, point taken. You have a big fat giant crush on Ethan Berkowitz. He’s a real live Democrat dreamboat. You think he is totally adorable, and I’m not arguing. To be perfectly honest, he was shortlisted, along with James LaBelle and Jake Metcalfe. And if I had all the time in the world, I’d dedicate an entire post to enumerating the pulchritudinous qualities of each and every one of these gentlemen. But a girl’s got things to do, kids. The greenhouse, it does not water itself.
Also, I had an e-mail from Les Gara last night and he assures me that he’s spoken to Ethan and Ethan will be fine.
In the interest of keeping the peace, I will concede that yes, Ethan Berkowitz is a very attractive man. But I stand by my selections.
I notice no one’s complaining about the inclusion of Young Mike Gravel, though. Who knew, right? Hubba hubba.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Alaska's Dreamiest Politicians
Alaska has gotten a lot of attention in the last year or so for having the "Hottest Governor In America." Not that the competition is all that stiff. Most gubernatorial races, it turns out, are not beauty contests. (Side Note: Wouldn't it be more fun if they were? I'd like to have seen, say, Ann Richards twirling a flaming baton, or Jim McGreevey modeling evening wear. And imagine how fully Obama would rock the vote if the presidential election included a swimsuit competition.) Now, I don't want to knock Gov. Palin for her looks (I'll save that for her politics), but while she's certainly neatly groomed and thoughtfully attired, she's not significantly better-looking than any of a number of Alaska's attractive male politicians. She is, however, a pretty girl filling a role that's traditionally been taken by a man, so naturally there's going to be some attention paid to her more pulchritudinous qualities. (Remember the Hillary Clinton cleavage nonsense?)
But enough already. I'm tired of Sarah Palin's good looks overshadowing the attractiveness of Alaska's male politicians. Believe me when I tell you that, while Sarah Palin may be the Hottest Governor In America, she is by no means the Hottest Politician In Alaska. And in the interest of leveling th
e playing field, I'd like to take a moment to introduce you to some of the Last Frontier's other fair-of-face political players.
Raised in foster care in New York, State Rep. Les Gara grew up to be not only smart and compassionate, but super-duper nice and great-looking in a very urban-outdoorsy, South Addition, alternative energy kind of way. It's something about the Middle Eastern heritage combined with the salt-and-pepper goatee and proclivity for button-down shirts and polar fleece. He's not just handsome; he's Anchorage Handsome.
Then there's Andrew Halcro: Excellent taste. Impeccable grooming. And very nice hands. Halcro doesn't feel too bound by party lines (he was a third-party candidate for governor in 2006), but when it comes to clothes, he has more respect for a nice clean line than almost any man in the state, with the possible exception of my Uncle Steven.
If you want living proof that some things get better with age, look no further than two-term Anchorage m
ayor, two-term governor and former Senatorial candidate Tony Knowles. Tony was no slouch back in the '80s when he cleaned up downtown Anchorage, and he was certainly a fine-looking governor, but as I reported after last month's fundraising breakfast for Mark Begich, these days TK is looking very, very good. Like, who's-your-aesthetician? good.
Speaking of... Naturally I haven't forgotten about my beloved Mayor Mark Begich,
currently the Most Adorable Mayor In America and soon to be the Cutest Little Junior Senator In Washington. No list of Alaska's political dreamboats would be complete without a shout-out to my favorite Democrat. (Photo by Mike R. Foster, www.MikeRFoster.com)
Lest you think I have an eye only for the new, hot and young(ish) movers and shakers, I have dug back into history to bring you some of the faces that rocked the AK in bygone days. (Side Note: Fortunately, the state as we know it hasn't been around too long, so it wa
sn't much of a dig.) This being Alaska, we couldn't have gotten through all these years without having at least one politician who could be described as "ruggedly handsome," and that honor goes, hands down, to Jay Hammond, the "Bush Rat Governor." A moderate Republican conservationist, Gov. Hammond could fly a plane, split wood and establish an investment fund to use oil royalties to finance the state budget. Plus, in later years, he just rocked the heck out of that beret.
Do Supreme Court justices count as politicians? Maybe not, but there's no doubt that the late Chief Justice Jay Rabinowitz had an imp
act on Alaska politics that continues to reverberate, and will continue to do so as long as people continue to like smoking pot. Chief Justice Rabinowitz wrote the opinion in Ravin v. State, the landmark and oft-referenced case that interpreted the unusual privacy clause in Alaska's state constitution to allow possession of small amounts of marijuana in the home for personal use. In addition to being a forward-thinker and a super-healthy runner-type, Chief Justice Rabinowitz was, as you can see, classically handsome in a very Ivy League kind of way.
In the interest of full disclosure, I must state here that Mike Stepovich, Jr., is my go
dfather, although that didn't influence my decision to include Territorial Gov. Mike Stepovich (Sr.) beyond the fact that I might not otherwise have known him to have been good-looking. Mike Sr. was governor of the Territory of Alaska when it was admitted to the union, and consequently most of the photos one sees of him are those jubilant "WE'RE IN!"-type shots which are totally nostalgic and pride-inducing, but not terribly flattering to any of the subjects. As you can see here, though, Gov. Stepovich was a looker.
Finally, you wouldn't think it now, particularly after the series of weird YouTube videos, but back in the day, then-Sen. Mike Gravel was kind of a stud.
But enough already. I'm tired of Sarah Palin's good looks overshadowing the attractiveness of Alaska's male politicians. Believe me when I tell you that, while Sarah Palin may be the Hottest Governor In America, she is by no means the Hottest Politician In Alaska. And in the interest of leveling th
e playing field, I'd like to take a moment to introduce you to some of the Last Frontier's other fair-of-face political players.Raised in foster care in New York, State Rep. Les Gara grew up to be not only smart and compassionate, but super-duper nice and great-looking in a very urban-outdoorsy, South Addition, alternative energy kind of way. It's something about the Middle Eastern heritage combined with the salt-and-pepper goatee and proclivity for button-down shirts and polar fleece. He's not just handsome; he's Anchorage Handsome.
Then there's Andrew Halcro: Excellent taste. Impeccable grooming. And very nice hands. Halcro doesn't feel too bound by party lines (he was a third-party candidate for governor in 2006), but when it comes to clothes, he has more respect for a nice clean line than almost any man in the state, with the possible exception of my Uncle Steven.
If you want living proof that some things get better with age, look no further than two-term Anchorage m
ayor, two-term governor and former Senatorial candidate Tony Knowles. Tony was no slouch back in the '80s when he cleaned up downtown Anchorage, and he was certainly a fine-looking governor, but as I reported after last month's fundraising breakfast for Mark Begich, these days TK is looking very, very good. Like, who's-your-aesthetician? good.Speaking of... Naturally I haven't forgotten about my beloved Mayor Mark Begich,
currently the Most Adorable Mayor In America and soon to be the Cutest Little Junior Senator In Washington. No list of Alaska's political dreamboats would be complete without a shout-out to my favorite Democrat. (Photo by Mike R. Foster, www.MikeRFoster.com)Lest you think I have an eye only for the new, hot and young(ish) movers and shakers, I have dug back into history to bring you some of the faces that rocked the AK in bygone days. (Side Note: Fortunately, the state as we know it hasn't been around too long, so it wa
sn't much of a dig.) This being Alaska, we couldn't have gotten through all these years without having at least one politician who could be described as "ruggedly handsome," and that honor goes, hands down, to Jay Hammond, the "Bush Rat Governor." A moderate Republican conservationist, Gov. Hammond could fly a plane, split wood and establish an investment fund to use oil royalties to finance the state budget. Plus, in later years, he just rocked the heck out of that beret.Do Supreme Court justices count as politicians? Maybe not, but there's no doubt that the late Chief Justice Jay Rabinowitz had an imp
act on Alaska politics that continues to reverberate, and will continue to do so as long as people continue to like smoking pot. Chief Justice Rabinowitz wrote the opinion in Ravin v. State, the landmark and oft-referenced case that interpreted the unusual privacy clause in Alaska's state constitution to allow possession of small amounts of marijuana in the home for personal use. In addition to being a forward-thinker and a super-healthy runner-type, Chief Justice Rabinowitz was, as you can see, classically handsome in a very Ivy League kind of way.In the interest of full disclosure, I must state here that Mike Stepovich, Jr., is my go
dfather, although that didn't influence my decision to include Territorial Gov. Mike Stepovich (Sr.) beyond the fact that I might not otherwise have known him to have been good-looking. Mike Sr. was governor of the Territory of Alaska when it was admitted to the union, and consequently most of the photos one sees of him are those jubilant "WE'RE IN!"-type shots which are totally nostalgic and pride-inducing, but not terribly flattering to any of the subjects. As you can see here, though, Gov. Stepovich was a looker.Finally, you wouldn't think it now, particularly after the series of weird YouTube videos, but back in the day, then-Sen. Mike Gravel was kind of a stud.
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