The Land of Ahs

Why are the liberal weenies at The Kansas City Star so freakin’ paranoid about this town’s reputation?

The Strip nearly gagged on its cuppa joe a couple of weeks ago when it opened its morning paper and saw that the hand-wringin’ at the leftist daily had reached ridiculous proportions. “Woe is us,” the front page all but screamed across four of its six columns in the October 2 issue. “What will the rest of the country think!”

What was it this time that had the Star‘s weak-kneed editors a-tremblin’ about the city’s image? Another hare-brained scheme cooked up by the Christian kookocracy at the Missouri Legislature? Yet more gambling fever from one of Kansas’ quasi-legitimate Indian tribes?

No, what alarmed the paper of record was that so much hella fun was planned for the weekend.

Yep, you schedule the most gnarly football matchup of the early NFL season and a NASCAR race on the same day in the same town, and naturally, the nation’s eyes will turn to you.

Holy shit, grandma, hide the washin’!

The Star not only felt obliged to produce a whiny Page 1 analysis filled with worry over how all that blue-collar, kick-ass good-timin’ would look to outsiders, but also ran a double-bylined op-ed piece by the blue-sky Bobbsey Twins, KCMO and KCK mayorettes Queen Kay and Saint Carol.

“This weekend, the Kansas City metropolitan area has a unique opportunity to show the rest of the world why those of us who live here love this community,” the dynamic duo wrote.

The message was clear: The neighbors are watchin’, children, so don’t pick yer nose.

But if tailgaters and race fans gettin’ a little TV time sends the high and mighty at City Hall and the Star into a panic, imagine how they’d react if they knew how outsiders really see the Midwest.

Take Arizona’s Todd McFarlane, for example, and what comes to his mind when he thinks “Kansas farm girl.”

McFarlane is the genius who turned his drawing skills into the Spawn empire. The supersuccessful comic book-turned-TV series-turned-movie gave McFarlane such a pile of cash that he started spending it on his true love — baseball memorabilia. McFarlane forked over $3 million for Mark McGwire‘s 70th home-run ball from the 1998 record-setting season and considerably less — $450,000 — for Barry Bonds‘ 73rd homer of 2001.

McFarlane is also known for producing incredibly detailed and often disturbing action figures based on his twisted imagination. And a few weeks ago, he unveiled his latest deliciously sick project: a “reimagining” of the Wizard of Oz story.

In this tale, circa 2003, Dorothy Gale is an innocent Wichita girl with a taste for sadomasochism.

That’s right: In McFarlane’s Oz, Dorothy’s a bondage babe.

But you probably didn’t notice the bound, blindfolded and busty Dorothy at your nearest retailer. The provocative figurines sold out almost as fast as they hit the shelves.

“Dorothy went right away,” says Aaron Ross, who manages a Game Stop in Shawnee.

Real Kansans apparently had no problem with the fetish interpretation of their iconic heroine. The gas-masked Wizard himself hasn’t sold as well, Ross says, but his customers couldn’t get enough of Dot, who comes packaged with two leather-thong-wearing Munchkins apparently set on branding the young lass.

Asked if he’d heard any complaints about the Dorothy doll or what it might mean for Kansas’ image, Ross laughed.

“I don’t think they were here long enough to offend anyone.”

Beam her up, Dorothy.

The Strip was contemplating suicide the other day — you would, too, if you had to sit through KC’s City Council business meetings as a regular feature of your miserable existence — when the mind-numbing detail spewed by a city minion suddenly got interesting.

In an otherwise dull presentation about plans to upgrade City Hall’s Depression-era elevator system, someone mentioned that the new elevators could be equipped with an express function, allowing City Council members to brandish special cards and be whisked to the upper floors.

The very thought sent spasms of panic through this side of beef.

See, City Hall’s elevators have always been the great equalizer, the constant source of misery that politicians are forced to reckon with just the same as proletarians. Stuck waiting minute after minute for the freakin’ doors to open in the building’s lobby, some citizens get their only chance to rub elbows with politicos, department heads and other city honchos. And where’s a Council member gonna run when a determined reporter corners him in an elevator? We’ve used this trick more than once. But Council members learned that the key-card system would add only “a few thousand dollars” to the project’s price tag, which is estimated to be about $1.8 million (about how much it would cost to clean all the illegally dumped garbage in the city’s predominantly black 3rd District, but don’t hold yer breath for that happenin’ anytime soon).

A few Council members had enough sense to realize the plan had “elitist pigs” written all over it and turned up their noses. Momentarily donning his tailor-made “man of the people” cloak, Troy Nash joined his colleague Deb Hermann in declaring that he wouldn’t accept such a card.

But the rest seemed downright giddy about the prospect of commandeering their own lifts while the great unwashed masses were left stranded with even fewer elevators and, as a consequence, even longer waiting times.

Bastards.

Then, right on cue, her highness chipped in with her own chirpy endorsement of the plan. “I’m sure no one in this room has been frustrated by our elevator system,” said Queen Kay sarcastically to her fellow elected chums, making it clear that she felt their pain.

Poor Kay. Must be murder having to actually speak to commoners while waiting to get to work.

After the meeting, as we rode a crammed car down from the 29th floor, we overheard Councilman John Fairfield complain that a day or so earlier, he’d waited five minutes for a ride to his office. “One of the elevators was out of service,” he said. “And the mayor had another one tied up.”

“Wait a minute,” the Strip interrupted. “The mayor already has her own express card?”

“A key,” an eavesdropping city official told us. “For security reasons.”

For security reasons?

We placed a call to herroner to find out how often she rides in the fast lane and why. She had her director of administration, Richard DeHart, call us back.

He said she uses the free pass every time she’s in the building, for security and because “time is of the essence.”

DeHart assured us that the mayoral express key has been around for three decades and that Queen Kay is not the first to take advantage of it.

Still, we marveled at how well the privilege suited our monarch, who has a kind of express-elevator leadership style all her own: Get all the dirty work done behind closed doors and away from the public, and then — whooosh! — make a grand entrance with a smile, a brilliant carnation and a passel of drawings of, say, a shiny new arena.

DeHart was quick to point out that the mayor isn’t stingy with her special powers. “When other people need to go up, she’ll invite them in and let them get off on whatever floor they’re going to,” he says.

That’s real nice. We’ll try to remember that the next time we’re stuck for an eternity in the eighth-floor cafeteria, sucking in greasy fumes and stale cigarette smoke.