Joe’s Brain from p 21 Neither the word “drugs” nor “immi- gration,” nor any variant of either word, appears in the Maricopa County Sheriff’s Office’s most recent annual crime report for Fountain Hills. “Those issues are not usually in the purview of being a mayor, especially because we’re not a border town,” Dickey, the 38-year Fountain Hills politician, told New Times. “He has said some other things about crime that just aren’t bearing out. We’re a very safe community and have been all along.” In 2008, the progressive Dickey was one of the first to call out Arpaio’s racial profiling. Her campaign is centered around developing social programs and low-income housing in Fountain Hills. Arpaio played hooky from a June 28 debate with Dickey, electing to accept an award from an Italian club in Las Vegas instead. He is the son of Italian immi- grants and was adamantly pro-immigra- tion at one time before his existential pivot on the subject. Arpaio also claims Fountain Hills is not business-friendly, citing a town ordinance that limits the size and number of signs businesses are allowed to post. In reality, despite the coronavirus pandemic, business is booming in town, including the recent additions of new residential developments and even a tea room opened by Arpaio’s own daughter, Sherry Boas. “The idea that we are somehow not encouraging businesses is dispelled by the partnerships and activities over the last several years,” Dickey said. Arpaio claimed that a winning bid would make him the oldest first-time mayor in American history. That claim is also untrue. I Did It My Way Arpaio was in a sour mood on July 8. Election Day was fast approaching, and a vandal had defaced his favorite Fountain Hills landmark, Fountain Park, where the town’s iconic 560-foot fountain stands. It was once the tallest in the world. Hot pink construction paper signs littered the park with messages like, “Arpaio has a ‘pee-pee’ tape,” “Ginny Dickey isn’t a seditious traitor like Joe Arpaio,” and “Joe Arpaio will turn Fountain Hills into a desert prison.” Arpaio called the signs “disgusting graffiti” and promised $2,000 from the campaign chest to anyone who could help lead to the arrest and conviction of the perpetrators. “The current mayor should immedi- ately launch an investigation regarding this type of activity, realizing history shows on occasion violent behavior follows [sic],” he said. After all, he has always been a lawman. Arpaio’s earliest childhood memory dates back to 1940, when at age 8 he dressed up as a dual pistol-wielding constable of the Old West and frolicked in Connecticut tobacco fields. Arizona beckoned. “I MAY GO TO 102, AND IF I DO, I’LL STILL BE WORKING. “I’LL WORK UNTIL I DIE.” — JOE ARPAIO He sums up his leadership style with this vapid sort of haiku: “Never give up. Hate procrastination. Hate the word ‘can’t.’” It’s a mantra he lives by, though. “I may go to 102, and if I do, I’ll still be working,” Arpaio said. “I’ll work until I die.” The swagger and charisma that spell- bound so many for so long have dulled with age. But the 90-year-old Arpaio still zips up and down the stairs, goes on long walks around the lake, and drives his cherry red DeVille around Fountain Hills. The Cadillac, bearing Arizona veteran plates, just rolled over 6,000 miles. Arpaio credits his good health to never smoking marijuana or tobacco, with the exception of “a couple of times” in which he puffed cigars, but only undercover and “posing as the mob” as part of a Drug Enforcement Agency sting. He has his gaffes now. In interviews, he let slip that “a taco represents a woman’s uterus,” and “people from foreign coun- tries often do work giving handjobs.” In fact, all the way back in 2010, New Times joked that dementia was already setting in. At times, Arpaio refers to his late wife in the present and even the future tense. He’ll snap back to reality and hastily change the subject. His only remaining hobby is watching movies, his favorite being the 1980 romantic drama Somewhere in Time. He never watches the same movie twice. Recreational time is better spent working, he says. And career always comes before family. Always. It all comes back to his (and Trump’s) favorite song, Sinatra’s “My Way.” “Regrets, I’ve had a few. But then again too few to mention,” the big band legend sang on his 1969 track. Another lyric that resonates in Arpaio’s mind. “I made a few mistakes in my life, but I don’t apologize for locking up all these people. Because I’d do it again,” Arpaio said. “I did nothing wrong, and if I did do something wrong, it was in good faith.” We asked Arpaio, “What’s a secret you’ve never told any reporter before?” He responded, “That I am actually a nice guy.” More than 100,000 members on the “People Against Sheriff Joe Arpaio” Facebook page couldn’t agree less. Love him, hate him, or ignore him, Arpaio said he wants a lyric from the song engraved on his tombstone, to epitomize his 24-year tenure as Maricopa County sheriff: “I faced it all, and I stood tall. And did it my way.” It’s a metaphor for his life now, he said. The song opens, “And now the end is here.” Metaphorically. Politically, he’s still up to his old tricks. 23 2050 N. 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