Killer Quince

Happy Quinceañera to us! A look back at 15 years of telling the other side (that is, the real side) of OC's story

Hollywood has craven talent agents. Washington, D.C., has craven lobbyists. The Eastern Seaboard has craven polluters. Mexico has craven drug dealers. And Orange County has craven land developers. Over the years, the Weekly has repeatedly targeted Tony Moiso, scion of the Moiso family of Rancho Mission Viejo, for purchasing local politicians, invading the county’s last protected wildlands and master-planning more South County traffic; Donald Bren, chairman of the Irvine Co., for purchasing local politicians, roughing up tenants of his vast commercial properties and spreading his man seed like ugly clusters of estates carved into the Newport Coast; and George Argyros, chairman of Arnel Development Co., for purchasing local politicians, roughing up tenants of his vast fleabag-apartment empire and spreading his me-first, right-wing politics from Chapman University to Spain. Those, of course, are the biggies. There are also associated feeder builders/developers and their business groups and their hand-picked county supervisors whom we’ve called out over the years for putting the interests of the wealthy few ahead of the well-being of the millions of the rest of us. Coming on strong to join the craven crass like bleeding boils are the Irvine City Council, Redevelopment Agency and Great Park Corp. Board of Directors, which are each composed of mostly the same people. Indeed, as they burn through billions for the Orange County Great Park, the county’s largest public-works project, Agran and his minions must leave our fair region’s mega-developers green with envy. After all, the developers actually have to build something.

Are you out of your fucking mind?

Looking back over the past 15 years, one constant theme of the Weekly’s coverage has been highlighting our fair county’s amazing penchant for sending people to jail for daring to follow the will of the people and actually make medicine available to patients. It all started in November 1996, just more than a year after our first issue appeared, when California voters overwhelmingly approved Proposition 215, legalizing marijuana for medical use. When Marvin Chavez and Dave Herrick, a former cop and combat medic in Vietnam, tried to organize OC’s first cannabis collective, county narcotics agents posed as patients and tricked the pair into providing them with pot. Prosecutors painted both men, who weren’t allowed to mention Prop. 215 in their trials, as drug dealers, resulting in both men heading off to the slammer. (Herrick’s case was later dismissed, thanks to prosecutorial misconduct, and he was released years early.) The county’s war on pot continues to this day; nary a week goes by without news on our Navel Gazing blog of yet another marijuana dispensary being raided. Just ask Mark Moen of the since-shuttered 215 Agenda in Lake Forest; he’s now awaiting trial for alleged money laundering and, if convicted, could spend the rest of his life in prison.

Star Foreman
Star Foreman

Early in Weekly history, a cover package was dedicated to all things Disneyland. It was so long ago that Craig Kilborn was still the host of The Daily Show. We know because we included fake-news correspondent Brian Unger’s biting segment, “In the Shadow of the Mouse”—word-for-word and with photos and the blessing of Comedy Central’s then-fledgling program. The huge pick-up that print edition received would be duplicated any time Disney-related images appeared on our cover. (Which reminds us: Isn’t it about time for another Disneyland feature, guys?) Corresponding stories can be Disney-positive—like strategies for families scaling Disneyland in a day—or Disney-negative—such as the investigative report that exposed huge pay disparities between Mouse House executives and lowly workers. Or, as in “The Happiest Freaking Place on Earth” by Vu Nguyen and Fermin Leal, an exposé of the controversy surrounding the theme park’s fireworks display. Even non-park-related covers with Disney imagery are quickly snagged from news racks, like the one advancing the Newport Beach Film Festival that included a photo illustration of Marilyn Monroe exposing Mickey Mouse-ear breasts and another on OC’s sexiest cities featuring a shot of topless lasses (and one lad) wearing Mickey Mouse-ear hats. Okay, the toplessness may have also helped spark the huge pick-ups. That’s not important right now. What is important is the love of our Magic Kingdom has spread to our blogs, where Disney-related content always receives large numbers of page views—with or without bare-breasted babes.

13 | MILFS!
Were we a people prone to polytheism, we Orange Countians might imagine our patron deity looking a lot like La Habra’s Nadya Suleman, the Octomom avatar of the desire to be desirable even in maternity. But although she birthed a Weekly issue dedicated to the idea of Suleman as a reality-TV mogul, she didn’t actually birth the modern MILF phenomenon. Rather, The Real Housewives of Orange County did, with the launch of the 2006 Bravo series popularizing the image of real-life, plastic-injected and desperately lonely mothers who would like you to like to fuck them. Beyond the TV ghouls, though—who are likely jealous that cougars have now replaced MILFs in the popular consciousness—we’ve got some legitimately fuckable-for-their-personality-and-other-stuff moms. Huntington Beach 50-something mayor Debbie Cook made our list of sexy people a few years back, and then valiantly, if unsuccessfully, took on ugly-faced Congressman Dana Rohrabacher. Lawyer and ex-Santa Ana Unified board member Nadia Marie Davis has rarely appeared in this paper without the word “hottie” appended to her name, even though she’s married to state treasurer Bill Lockyer and helped spring the accused-but-innocent Carmona from prison. Plus, there’s ancient Hollywood-turned-Newport starlet Mamie Van Doren, who, in 2001, inspired Stephen Lemons to write that her “34F fun bags” are “in so rare a state of mammarian excellence that were she my female parental unit, incest might be at least one postpubescent fantasy I’d entertain.”

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