Jane Ann Morrison

I don’t doubt Richard Ziser’s sincerity, but I am tired of him telling me how to live my life. Now he wants to tell me how to die.

Guilt-ridden about betraying my core beliefs about historic preservation, I found myself agreeing with Las Vegas Mayor Oscar Goodman: It’s time for the Moulin Rouge to go.

The question was valid: Why wasn’t I pounding on the State Bar of Nevada for not putting the disciplinary actions against Nevada lawyers on its Web site? After all, I had certainly hammered the Nevada Board of Medical Examiners and the Nevada Board of Osteopathic Medicine for failing to put detailed medical malpractice information on their sites.

Thinking back over the threats I’ve received as a journalist, one type of person tends to lead the pack — a candidate without any chance of winning and ignored by the news media.

Armando Ronconi has been cast in Green Valley High School’s production of “Rent: School Edition,” and his mom is thrilled, even though her 16-year-old will be playing a drag queen who dies of AIDS.

Retired roller derby queen Tokyo Rose watched the new movie “Whip It” with a discerning eye, but she was clearly enthralled and exhilarated. The movie sparked memories of the adrenaline rush she had skating 30 to 35 miles an hour before screaming crowds.

The idea to resign his judgeship and run for governor didn’t actually originate with Brian Sandoval. Political consultant Pete Ernaut, a longtime friend, planted the seed this past summer.