Private Eye | Salt Lake City Weekly

When Tom Met Fidel

Remembering a former editor's brush with El Jefe Máximo.
Aside from his predilection for poking me and everyone else, Walsh was the consummate professional journalist.

Bite Me, Carl

Soon after the story broke, readers began slapping Carl's Jr. in the same fashion that Carl's Jr. slaps meat onto a grill.
It was a burger, pretty sloppy, true to their ads and I don't recall much else.

Whoa Is Me

I mourned in 2000 when Best of was only 10 years old. Sixteen Bests of Utah later, I mourn again.
I mourned in 1972. I did again in 2000 when our Best of Utah was only 10 years old. Sixteen Bests of Utah later, I mourn again.

Be True

Barely two weeks ago, I returned home after a very successful City Weekly tour of Greece, sponsored by this newspaper.

Big 12 Bitter

Anyone who has spent more than 10 minutes living in Utah knows there are only several matters that stand out as the very most important to most Utahns: The rivalry between the University of Utah and the Team Down South, whether one consumes caffeine hot or cold, if one is willing or not to be seen doing yard work on a Sunday and, of course, where you stand on the issue of local grocers being petitioned to remove red wine vinegar from the condiments aisle. Yes, many people are saying that banning red wine vinegar from grocery stores altogether is an even better solution.

Bye Bye Love

The most important people in Salt Lake City—the persons who have basically absconded with The Salt Lake Tribune comment boards (Twitter for adults; a bar conversation without the martini) and made them their own—are in near unanimity that a recent proposal by the Miller family, owners of the Utah Jazz and Vivint Smart Home Arena should not be given a certain tax benefit. They claim, as many good liberals and socialists claim, that billionaires already have it good enough, and by gosh by golly, if the rich get a benefit, then they should, too.

All Pride Aside

Remembering an old friend and trailblazer
I met Bert Fontana in grade school at Copperton Elementary, second grade or so, before man stood on the moon, when the Kennedy brothers were still alive, when Dr. Martin Luther King and Malcolm X spoke to inequality, before the Beatles, when Liberace was simply considered flamboyant and Rock Hudson was kissing starlets like there was no tomorrow. Actor Sal Mineo was yet to publicly announce he was gay, so, by that simple math, I met Burt a long, long time ago.


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