About six weeks ago, we reported on the abundance of silly laws here in the valley. In the article, we observed how ludicrous — how historically atypical — it is that citizens now look to government to tell them what they can and can’t do. This is American democracy turned on its head, we said.

As further proof that these sensationally silly laws undermine our legal underpinnings and siphon precious man hours from efforts to stop real criminals, we submit the case of the a Boulder, Colo., salon owner and her pink poodle.

The real, unspoken tragedy, of course, is that the media even deigns to cover ridiculous shit like this. Whatever happened to real news? Of course, this begs the question: Why are we at CityBlog sharing this story? Call it a civics lesson ….

Rob Schlegel, gay community activist and former publisher of the Las Vegas Bugle, writes:

Remember the Internet video of five young men (most were actually boys) who were hanged in Iran last year for being gay?

The 19-year-old boy in the attached story and petition (which I wrote and turned into a PDF), requested asylum in Great Britain but was turned down. The other day, he was turned down in the Netherlands and now he expects to be sent back to Iran where his boyfriend has already been executed.

This petition is being sent to Nevada’s Sen. Harry Reid and Rep. Shelley Berkley.

It doesn’t matter if you’re not a Nevada resident … I just need signatures. Please get as many signatures as you can and fax this back to me by Thursday because I’ll be delivering these petitions, in person, on Friday. My fax number is at the bottom of the page.

Thanks.

Love,
Rob

Town Square Las Vegas (6605 Las Vegas Blvd. South) debuts its fourth Friday “Art in the Park” from 5 p.m. to 9 p.m. March 28. For visitors this mean shopping, drinking beer at the Yard House (opening this weekend) and more shopping.

For local artists wishing to sell their work, it means a 10-foot-by-10-foot space is only $75. For more details call Gina at 260-9757, Susan at 269-5016 or email samples of your art to GmachineQ@aol.com.

Hey, if you’re looking to get out of Gomorrah for a day or two, don’t forget — there’s still a one-time construction camp just a few miles down the road called Boulder City (population 16,000 or so) where nothing’s open anywhere close to 24 hours, gambling is forbidden and the genteel folk behind hotel desks may well engage you in conversations like this one, had last weekend with a middle-aged, middle American female at the Sands Motel:

She: We have one double, but only with the two queens, not the one king.

Me: Hmm, where else in town would you recommend?

She: Either the El Rancho (gesturing next door) or the Boulder Dam Hotel…if you go anywhere else, just make sure you see the room first.

Me: Some of them are pretty bad, huh?

She: (coyly) Well, we call them “terrorist motels.” You know, the ownership. People who aren’t from here. They’re giving the rest of the places here a bad name.

Me: (deadpan) Are they really terrorists?

…at which point she muttered something as we left, ultimately following us out into the parking lot to clarify that she didn’t mean to “frighten” us with the terrorist talk, which was good, because quite frankly, we were terrified we’d be killed by terrorists if we went to one of these terrorist motels.

We eventually settled on the sprawling Boulder Inn & Suites, splurging on something called a Deluxe Fantasy Themed Asian Suite. “You’ll sleep like an emperor,” promised the website. What did that mean? I’d toss and turn all night, feverish and paranoid that someone among my inner circle of advisors was plotting to chuck a sack of pit vipers in the jacuzzi?

Ah, the jacuzzi: plenty of hot water, room to stretch out, all jets functional, and quite the spectacle when surrounded with the 25 apple-scented tea lights (not included) my girlfriend arranged so imperially around the edge. The suite ain’t cheap, but man-oh-man.

By day, the Nevada Way main drag is all about restaurants (Milo’s rocks), antique shops, art galleries and hardware stores. Lake Mead (some of its least noisome coastline, no less) is right there, too, giving the place a beachy feel even when no water is in sight — you can just feel it nearby. A great Vegas escape, yes, and only a 20 minute drive.

They must hate our kind showing up there.

We were happy to get the news today that Dr. Tony Alamo Jr. has been appointed to a four-year term on the Nevada Gaming Commission.

By way of full disclosure, we should report that Alamo is personal physician to us at Various Things & Stuff, and he’s done a great job keeping us up and about despite the cigar smoking, beer and wine drinking and, well, let’s just call it morbid obesity.

(Hey, now do you think we can have him consult on us getting a gaming license, too? We’ve always wanted to get into the casino business. We hear there’s real money to be made there, so long as we can fend off those nasty special interests who are always after our lucky charms!)

Anyway, Alamo has also served as a a member of the state Athletic Commission, chief of staff at Sunrise Hospital and Medical Center and tactical physician for the Metro Police department.  He earned the medal of valor from Metro, in fact.

Alamo will replace former state Sen. Ray Rawson, whom former Gov. Kenny Guinn appointed to fill an unexpired term of the gaming panel. Rawson wanted to get a full four-year term, but was denied by Gibbons.

Rawson’s appointment in the first place was a pity move after he was defeated in 2004 by the good looks and conservative rhetoric of state Sen. Bob Beers. Rawson ran a disgraceful final campaign against Beers. And the skeletons in Rawson’s own closet — including pushing to create an expensive dental school that, it turns out, was totally unnecessary — are legion. How about the time, no, make the the two times, Rawson put an innocent man on death row in Arizona?

Anyway, we’re sure it wasn’t Rawson’s flaws that caused Gibbons to choose Alamo instead of Rawson for the Gaming Commission. Rawson was, after all, a Guinn pick, and we know how Gibbons feels about those.

In between posting photos of the Olly Girls (pictured) and blogging what brands of booze celebs are getting soused on in local mega-clubs, Michael Politz found the time to tackle a few of our favorite targets. Normally I’d just ignore him, but these were too good to pass up.

On March 8, he equated the Review-Journal’s press-release-regurgitating club confidante, Jeremy Pond, with a contestant on The Pickup Artist as he waited for the skankarrific Paris Hilton at Jet nightclub. I can hardly wait for Pond’s gratuitous, blow-by-blow account of their momentary rendezvous in the Neon section of Friday’s newspaper.

On March 10 Politz took to task Vegas’ “media elite” (including the R-J’s “probably flatulent Norm Clarke“ and “the lovely Xania Woodman” (hmmm, he seems to have settled his previous feud with Las Vegas Weekly’s nightlife princess) for their sensational, celebrity-driven excuse for journalism, in particular their coverage of the structural incident that’s caused the temporary closure of CatHouse in the Luxor.

If only the ceiling had fallen and smashed Holly and Molly (or is it Molly and Holly?) — that would have been a story!