FROM THE EDITOR
A Publication of the State Bar of Arizona
LISA BORMASTER FONTES
ASHLE Y THERESE KASARJIAN, CHAIR
( Toll-free outside Maricopa County)
DAVID H. BEN TON
YUSRA B. BOKHARI
HON. THEODORE CAMPAGNOLO
PAUL F. DOWDELL
GREGORY GAU TAM
HON. RANDALL M. HOWE
MELISSA IYER JULIAN
KARA L. KLIMA
HON. WENDY S. MOR TON
EMILY K. POKORA
MARK D. SAMSON
K YLE SHELTON
LACE Y STOVER GARD
MICHAEL F. VALENZUELA
4201 N. 24th Street, Suite 100
Phoenix, AZ 85016-6266
270 N. Church Avenue
Tucson, AZ 85701-1113
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VOLUME 52, NO. 9
In Chicago back in the late ‘80s, I had a friend who
attended an Iggy Pop concert. Through strategy and sharp elbows, she
managed to reach the front ranks of the pulsating crowd and stand—
OK, quake with joy—right next to the stage. During the show, she
reports, Iggy knelt down and
licked her palm. Because Iggy.
She claimed she would never
again wash that hand. In the
office, she would hold out the
sacred appendage, aimed sky-
ward for all to see, the invisible
stigmata transporting her to
What makes someone set
aside good sense and hygiene
for its colorful opposite, I won-
dered? What neurons does Iggy
Pop make pop in people’s brains?
I was reminded of that
graphic story of palm-love as we prepared this issue—and as I read a
magazine (of course) published by American Airlines. “American Way”
is beautiful (even if it has a vaguely unsettling title). But its beauty is
more than skin-deep, for within the current issue is a Q&A with two
rock stars, one of whom is the craggy, talented, and ever-punkish Iggy.
He was spreading the word about a musical collaboration with Josh
Homme, founder of Queens of the Stone Age. And as impressive as
Iggy Pop may be, I was struck by one of Homme’s insights:
“I’ve always loved infiltration. To me, that’s what punk rock has
always been about: going where you don’t belong without anyone
noticing until it’s too late. … It’s a pleasure to wander in this historic
place, set up shop and say, ‘The elegant scumbags are in town.’ It
feels good sometimes to be the most rogue person there.”
Infiltration. That may be what Pop’s got popping.
When Homme spoke of a “historic place,” he did not mean ARIZONA
ATTORNEY MAGAZINE, though he could have. Like Detroit’s
Fox Theatre, where the two musicians played, AzAt has great
bones, sharp looks, and a storied past. But infiltration is not
our usual fare.
Except in May. In May we open the doors—main stage
and balcony—to creative talents who showcase their art and—
more important—the rogue portions of their brains. They
rattle the chandeliers and kick over some furniture. Occasionally, a guitar is smashed.
I hope you share my pleasure at the thrill of artists in full
concert. Congratulations and thanks to all those who submitted and all those who prevailed in our annual competition.
They truly are all winners—brave infiltrators who are conversant with the rogue.
Come on in, find a spot. Reach toward the stage, for the
house lights are dimming …
Lust for (Creative) Life