The Rake Magazine

Month: December 2007

  • The Three Pointer: Heartbreak

    Game #17, Road Game #8: Minnesota 89, Atlanta 90

    Season record: 2-15

    1. Brewer and Smith Lead the Paint Mob

    After 10 pathetic quarters of play–from 1:25 to go in the 3rd against San Antonio until 1:34 to go in the 1st tonight–the Timberwolves found a pulse and fought to retain their diminishing fan base, clambering back from a 26-7 deficit only to lose on Joe Johnson’s last-half-second jumper in what was arguably the year’s most entertaining ballgame to date.

    For Wolves fans, here are the stats that matter: 56 points in the paint. Eighteen rebounds for Corey Brewer in a game-high 44:17. Twenty offensive boards, 7 of them by Craig Smith. And a huge, as yet unposted plus-margin in second chance points.

    Brewer is the king of second chance points, partly because his JV-caliber jumper snuffs so many first chances and partly because his hustle and hellbent for leather crashing of the boards–weakside, strongside, up the gut, it doesn’t matter–enables him to grab so many balls and keep so many others in play. No other Timberwolf has snatched 18 rebounds (14 on the defensive glass) thus far this year, but on the downside, his 3-15 FG is likewise a pretty rare clang quotient for that many attempts. Brewer’s 6 points came on a floor-length dribble and layup after grabbing a defensive rebound, a half-court dribble and layup after a steal, and a putback on the offensive glass. Total combined distance from palm to rim on those three buckets: Maybe 9 inches. Otherwise, he was 0-8 on jumpers, which makes him 3-7 on layups and tip-ins (or tip-outs).

    But there are plenty of reasons to like having Corey Brewer on your team. First of all, his two glaring weaknesses–a horrendous jump shot and a scrawny physique–are among the easiest things for an NBA-caliber athlete to remedy in their early 20s. If he spends the next off-season or two pumping iron, pounding milkshakes and jackin’ jumpers, he’s going to keep getting better. Second, he’s obviously been extremely well coached–a tip of the buzzcut to Billy Donovan. Tonight, Florida Gator Al Horford led the Hawks with a plus +22 in 35:19; Brewer led the Wolves with plus +9 in 44:17, and Chris Richard was plus +4 in 2:50. All play so hard as to appear reckless, and yet they all also play smart and unselfishly. Which brings me to Brewer’s defense, which is very good both on the ball (provided he isn’t up against a much larger veteran) and in rotation (especially when he covers for the Wolves’ sliding bigs–despite going just a buck-85, he’s comfortable mixing in the paint). Needless to say, this was Brewer’s best game of the year.

    By going 9-15 FG, Craig Smith actually lowered his shooting accuracy from the previous five games, when he was above 70%. It is a little disconcerting that Smith is thriving at precisely the time Al Jefferson is being increasingly dislodged from the paint and missing loads of bunnies when he does establish position. And, as is true with Brewer, the Hawks’ plethora of large but undisciplined, scrambling 6-7 to 6-9 swingmen, works to his advantage–both Smith and Brewer thrive on the chaos of loose balls, be they tipped in the air or battered along the floor, and Smith especially knows how to exploit eager defenders.

    But the rhino sobriquet fits Smith well. His nine buckets tonight went like this: Tip-in, layup, putback, baby hook, layup, layup, layup, layup, layup. Every single one of his 20 points were paint-oriented, including the two free throws (he’s improving from the line, BTW). He and Brewer put in so much sweat equity tonight that it seems churlish to point out that the three members of Atlanta’s starting frontcourt shot over 50% and got to the line 26 times (Brewer had 5 fouls, Smith 4, and Michael Doleac 5 in 17:04). The rhino and the gator greyhound are not optimal for stopping paint production. But tonight they dished it out at least as good as they received it, and almost led the Wolves to victory.

    2. The Value of Jaric

    After the Wolves sleptwalked through two consecutive losses, interim coach Jerry Sichting, searching for causes for the lack of intensity, asked rhetorically, "We don’t miss Marko that much, do we?" On the basis of circumstantial evidence, Jaric is indeed a vital cog in this ballclub’s motor right now. With the Lima-boned (sorry, couldn’t resist) Serbian playing the best NBA ball of his life, the Wolves vanquished New Orleans, played Dallas tough, and led the Spurs in the first half. Then he turned an ankle and Minnesota collapsed: That ten quarter drought we opened this trey with corresponds almost exactly to the time Marko was on the sidelines.

    Brewer will appropriately get the huzzahs and generate the warm fuzzies because he’s a current rook and future bedrock, but Jaric was the Wolves’ MVP tonight. His fabulous line–18 points (6-13 FG, 5-5 FT), 9 assists (albeit with 5 turnovers), 8 rebounds, 3 steals, and a plus +7 in 38:42 of a one point loss–wasn’t even quite as good as his actual performance. The way he was setting up Jefferson, Brewer, McCants and Gomes in the first half, he should have had 12 or 13 assists easily. More importantly, the two things that have always plagued Jaric in the NBA–his ineffectiveness and then timidity about penetrating to the hoop, and his crunchtime nerves–are in the process of being rebutted. The key to Marko’s resurgence this past two or three weeks has been his proclivity and prowess at getting to the hoop–and finishing. He’s been more aggressive off the dribble than I’ve ever seen him, and yet it seems to have simultaneously enhanced his court vision, because he’s dishing both off penetration and with pick-and-roll bounce passes, wrist-snap dishes to bigs in the paint and relays around the horn better than ever.

    And tonight, he executed a coup de grace on that "choker" aura that has followed him around like a bad odor since his opening months at point guard seemed to conclusively demonstrate he was the anti-Cassell in the clutch. With the Wolves down a point with 20 seconds to play, Sichting calls a play out of a timeout that has Marko outfoxing Joe Johnson to get the feed off the inbounds and lay the ball in. After Josh Smith twirls for a banker to tilt the lead back to Atlanta with a hair more than seven secs to tick, Marko inbounds to Craig Smith, gets the ball back and drives the right lane, guarded from the foul line in by Josh Smith, who has 7 blocks on the evening already. Shielding Smith with his body, Jaric again lays it in with two seconds to play. If Joe Johnson doesn’t hit that 16-footer with the buzzer going off, Jaric is in the headline of tomorrow morning’s paper. For all kinds of reasons justified and not justified, he’s been a special target of scorn for Wolves fans since soon after his arrival. I’ve done my share of ripping on the guy–and daresay I will again, in the not too distant future. All the more reason to give it up for him right now.

    3. The Other Stuff

    So how did the Wolves hawk up a 19-point deficit in the first 10 and a half minutes of the game? Sichting thought his best swingmen would be glue guys Gomes and Buckner. Nope. They were outhustled right to the bench–Gomes lasting 8:26 before departing at 21-7, Buckner staying two minutes longer for the full 26-7 nadir. Neither one returned. I don’t know how badly the duo lagged in transition, but with 2:50 to play in the half, color commentator Jim Petersen said the Hawks had 21 fast break points and they finished the game with 26.

    Along with the aforementioned Smith and Jaric, Michael Doleac provided a stolid low post presence at both ends of the court and seemed to help staunch the bleeding when he entered the game. Doleac and Mark Madsen are a bit of a push on defense (pun intended), with Madsen quicker and Doleac taller but both understanding help and switches and the need for a hard and/or strategic foul. The difference is that Doleac has a low-post game and can stick the little jumper if he has to.

    And what of the 1-2 scoring punch of Jefferson and M
    cCants? Well, Jefferson’s shooting slump continues–he was 8-25 FG tonight and many of those misses were automatic buckets in the first few weeks of the season. The longer this bricking continues, the more I’ll suspect that his knee bruise is more harmful than anyone is letting on. For whatever reason, he doesn’t seem to be in rhythm, and looks both slower and less crafty than usual around the hoop–he owned Al Horford in their first meeting and that certainly wasn’t the case tonight. He’s also getting pushed out of his favorite spots more easily–it feels he’s put up more jumpers from 12-feet and beyond during the past three games than in the Wolves’ previous dozen combined–and with a marginally better percentage. It is his bread and butter stuff in the paint that is suffering. Oh, and if Jeff goes 75% from the line instead of 1-4 FT, Minnesota wins tonight.

    McCants is the enigma, the talent that isn’t mixing. Coming off the bench, he bombed in a couple of treys that first kindled the notion that the Wolves might actually have a hope of surmounting that 19-point disadvantage. But even with Buckner getting himself banished from Sichting’s rotation for the night, Shaddy only logged 17:33, pushed aside by the success of the backup-point backcourt of Telfair-Jaric and Brewer’s Chinese fire drill heroics (did I mention Corey also had 4 steals, and that plus +9 in 44:17 means the Wolves were minus -10 in the 3:17 he sat?). One disturbing note is that even when McCants is not gunning (he was 3-6 FG, 3-3 FT tonight), his natural wont is to hold the ball and study his options before furthering the play. It’s like having the sniffles while singing in a barbershop quartet (or in this case quintet)–not always ruinous but disruptive and of petty annoyance to the overall blend and musical rhythm. And since McCants has not been especially brilliant on defense or in taking care of the ball, he is slowly playing himself out of the mainstream of the Wolves’ grand plan for progress. On the other hand, his three buckets–those flammable treys and a nifty 4th quarter move when he split the coming double team and slashed to the hoop for a layup + one (which he converted)–again demonstrate that McCants is the team’s premiere scoring threat on the perimeter by a wide margin. Not only is the jury still out on his future, the defense and the prosecution are both making compelling arguments.

    Being in street clothes due to a bum ankle didn’t prevent Antoine Walker from slapping palms, barking advice into players’ ears during timeouts, and otherwise performing as a more sage, more subdued Mad Dog on the sidelines.

    Twice in the last 46 seconds of the game, one of the Wolves’ bigs heatedly called out one of the point guards for not getting them the damn ball when they had great, relatively unfettered positon in the paint. First it was Al Jefferson yelling at Telfair with 46 seconds to go; then Craig Smith let Jaric have it with 20 seconds left. This is both a good and a bad thing. You want your big men not only demanding the rock with the game on the line, but knowing they’ve earned it and (correctly) thinking that’s the identity the team wants to establish. You don’t want that desire to spill over into potentially hurtful bickering when the game’s in the balance, however. Understandable though it may be, Jefferson and Smith need to stow the seething and grow up a little.

  • Kick up the Feet, Put on the Hat, and Get Animated!

    THEATER & PERFORMANCE
    Can’t Stop That Foot from Flying

    Think Stomp on steroids and you begin to get an idea of what a Flying Foot Forum dance/theater company is like. Combine that with the unique vision and skill of the company’s director, Joe Chvala — who has been compared to “Fred Astaire on acid” — and you’ll start to form a more complete picture of what this weekend’s Percussion Project performance will entail. Tonight’s show brings together drums, tap, ballet, and theatre to create a unique and innovative performance — one that has toured nationally to rave reviews and had a sold-out run at the Southern last year. —Kate McDonald

    Friday at 8 p.m., Southern Theater, 1420 Washington Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-340-1725; $18.

    STYLE
    Hat Tricks

    Whenever and wherever there’s an event celebrating our local fashion MiNdustry, there’s one character certain to be in attendance: Ms. Anna Lee. As producer of the momentous annual Voltage Fashion Amplified show and founder of the fledgling mnFashion service organization, Lee is a reliable source of support for local designers. Not everyone knows it, but she’s also a designer—of hats! Those familiar with her millinery know her by the flamboyant, showgirl-style headdresses. But now she’s unveiling an assortment of wearable winter hats, too. —Christy DeSmith

    Saturday from 5 to 10 p.m., Ruby3, 2303 Kennedy St. NE , Studio 402, Minneapolis.

    MUSIC
    Spain, Mexico, and Smooth, Smooth, Jazz

    There’s some seriously great music to choose from this weekend, so get ready to soothe the savage breast, soften rocks, and bend the knotted oak.

    Friday marks the first-ever Minnesota Guitar Society Flamenco Guitarathon. Dedicated to the memory of Donn Pohren, who passed away last month, this event features some of our best flamenco talent: Dave Elrod, Mike Hauser, Tony Hauser, Scott Mateo Davies, Trevor May, and Michael Ziegahn. Best of all, and in true bohemian fashion, the evening will end with a group performance.

    Friday at 8 p.m., Hamline University, Sundin Hall, 1536 Hewitt Ave., St. Paul.

    Of course, Friday is a tricky night, as the Minnesota Opera’s Young Professionals Group is also throwing a party with Matt Wilson’s Carl Sandburg Project. The New York drummer – "sometimes hard-swinging, sometimes experimental, sometimes just weird, but always entertaining" – will present Carl Sandburg poems set to original jazz compositions. Wilson will perform with his quartet and special guest Dawn Thomson.

    Friday at 8 p.m., Minnesota Opera Center, 620 N. First St., Minneapolis; 612-333-6669; $15.

    On to Saturday… which again offers two fabulous choices:

    Tijuana’s Nortec Collective will be "riffing and ripping" traditional norteña and ranchera music at the Walker on Saturday evening (8 p.m., $22). This is no ordinary concert, folks — we’re talking DJs, graphic artists, and filmmakers… "for an infectious collision of style and culture, roots and revelation."

    For a smoother, groovier, jazzier, local-legend infused Saturday evening experience, head to the Fitz (8 p.m., $22.50) for The New Standards Holiday Concert. It’s no fail, man. It’s no fail. John Munson, Chan Poling, and the fabulous Steve Roehm — how can you go wrong?

     

    FILM
    Animated

    The fact that the Sloppy Films website claims its frontman, twin cities animator/video artist John Akre, is simply a fictional creation of a mad scientist and jazz enthusiast named Dr. Hubert Zork, is really not very surprising. Instead, it is merely icing on the already curiously creative cake that encompasses all his Sloppy-ness (Sloppy Films, Sloppy Shorts, Sloppy Books). An alter ego, after all, might be quite a convenient tool when one is creating experimental shorts and feature-length films that tackle everything from cannibalism to garden growing. See a trailer for one of his films here, and then enjoy more of his animated shorts this Sunday, as part of the Eastside Co-op Members Art Festival. Oh, and if mad scientist alter egos and visions of cannibalism don’t strike your fancy, there will also be free organic popcorn! —Kate McDonald

    Sunday from 4:30 to 6 p.m., Eastside Co-op, 2555 Central Ave. N.E., Minneapolis.

    Also opening this weekend: Romance and Cigarettes, Margot at the Wedding, and Deep Water.

  • Oh, That's Why Harvard and Carleton Are Such Crappy Schools

    You know, this is just too easy.

    In case you missed Kersten today, the topic is "Why St. Thomas University is going to hell in a handbasket". The short answer is, (and I’m only telling you this because reading the column will just cause you to think ill of thoughtful Catholics) because they don’t have the archbishop of St. Paul as an automatic member of the university board of directors any more.

    But, in good conscience, I can’t spare you the punch lines.

    Number one:

    Who remembers that Macalester and Carleton colleges were founded,
    respectively, by the Presbyterian and Congregational churches? Harvard,
    Yale and the University of Chicago were also originally
    church-affiliated institutions. But academics often view religious
    affiliation as incompatible with elite university status, and believe
    that it interferes with their "academic freedom."

    Number two:

    Because the widespread secularization of religiously affiliated
    colleges destroys true diversity in education. There are plenty of
    schools where students can learn professional skills and how to look
    out for Number One (and planet Earth).

    We need a few places where they can be called to pursue something higher: a transcendent vision of faith and morality.

    From number one, are we to infer that the two best colleges in Minnesota, and three of the best universities in the world are not as good as they could be because they eschew religious affiliation? (Disclosure: I was a religion major at Carleton. The former editor of The Rake has a masters in Divinity from Harvard. Those two things might explain a lot.)

    One other thing of note regarding Catholic universities in the United States: the recognized leaders in that category are Jesuit schools. Georgetown, Fordham, Holy Cross, Boston College are names you might recognize. The thing about the Jesuits is that they exist outside of the traditional church hierarchy. They report only to their own superiors, who report to the pope. The local bishop has no authority over them. (If you want to check into an interesting bit of local history, ask yourself why, until this year, the Twin Cities was the lone U.S. metropolitan area of any size without a Jesuit school. The answer: Bishop John Ireland didn’t want the insubordinate SOBs in his diocese. You can look it up. This is why we have St. Thomas instead of say, Georgetown.)

    I should of course mention Notre Dame, too. Notre Dame is not Jesuit, so they’re not as institutionally insubordinate as they could be. However, the bishop of the diocese of Fort Wayne/South Bend, Indiana does not sit on the board of trustees of Notre Dame.

    So, I guess Notre Dame also fails the Kersten test and you can lump them and the Jesuits in with godless Carleton, Harvard and Yale and decry their failure to inculcate morality and transcendence in their curricula, too.

    While you are at it, be sure to remember that, according to punchline two, concern for "Planet Earth" is also inconsistent with "a transcendent vision of faith and morality."

    This is truly funny stuff.

     

  • The Unfortunate Fate of Our Local Giant

    I don’t recall if the local giant ever actually claimed to have special
    powers. It did, however, seem to me that he conducted himself as if he had
    sprung from the pages of mythology.

    What I’m trying to say, I guess, is that this didn’t appear to be just
    another ordinary, run-of-the-mill giant. For one thing he was a good head
    taller than any giant I’ve ever seen, and he could balance small children on
    his nose and juggle dogs without seeming to cause the animals the slightest
    alarm or discomfort. The dogs actually appeared to enjoy being juggled, in
    fact. Some of them even slept while the giant was juggling them.

    The giant didn’t have much to say, but he was one of those giants whose
    actions spoke louder than his words. He had a real knack for catching people
    when they fell, as well as for locating lost objects. He was always returning
    things to their rightful owners, things that had been missing for great
    stretches of time –decades, in several notable instances.

    Some folks were suspicious of this talent, and spread rumors that the giant
    had actually stolen the items in question, and was hoarding these things in his
    lair. To dispel such rumors the giant took out a full-page advertisement in the
    local newspaper, announcing an open house to which the entire community was
    invited to inspect his lair and sample his baked goods.

    The giant, it turned out, was a damn fine baker, which honestly came as no
    surprise to his many local admirers. His generous selection of baked goods
    –many of them quite exotic– put to shame the offerings of any of the small
    bakeries in town.

    Needless to say, those who chose to take advantage of the giant’s
    hospitality –and there was quite a turnout– saw absolutely no evidence of
    lost or stolen items. And the very next morning the giant delivered a pristine
    1969 Chevrolet Impala, a vehicle that had been missing for over a decade, to
    the home of its owner, a local school board member.

    Any explanation of how or where the giant found these lost objects was never
    forthcoming. The man was, as I mentioned, notoriously tight-lipped, and most of
    us had learned to live with his amiable silence.

    The giant also had a special rapport with birds; he could persuade them to
    perch on his head and eat grain from his scalp. On occasion, when he wished to
    entertain children, he could coax birds to pluck sunflower seeds from his
    nostrils.

    There were some in the community who resented the fact that the giant
    contributed nothing to the local economy. I have no idea how he survived, but
    he didn’t seem to have anything to do with money, and eventually there was a
    successful movement to drive the giant from his lair along a river outside of
    town to make way for new commercial development.

    When the giant left his lair for the last time he did so peacefully, and
    comported himself with the quiet dignity many of us had come to expect from
    him. He left behind all of his possessions, with the exception of an opulent,
    handcrafted, and intricately detailed dollhouse that he carried away in his
    arms.

    A large family of musically gifted grasshoppers inhabited this dollhouse.
    These grasshoppers, it was said, slept in tiny four-poster beds and filled
    their little mansion each night with the strains of beautiful music.

    The giant finally established a new home for himself (and his family of
    grasshoppers) in a smaller neighboring community. A short time later we began
    to hear reports that he was healing people and performing miracles, and that,
    of course, was when the real trouble started for the poor fellow.

    If you’ve done any reading at all –from the Bible to the Greeks right through to some of your classic fairy tales– you’ll know that life is generally hell on giants. And unfortunately our fellow didn’t fare much better than most of his more celebrated predecessors.

    It’s a rather discouraging story, really, and I am frankly too tired at the moment
    to continue with it.

    But what the hell, I’ll just cut to the chase: one snowy night just after Thanksgiving some years ago, the local giant was flushed from his
    burrow by a mob of drunken locals and stoned to death. He was interred along with his beloved dollhouse –the musical grasshoppers having been adopted by the daughter of a Lutheran minister– in a plot next
    to the old courthouse dome at the county fairgrounds, and folks still come from all over the place to pay their respects. The county historical society has a pair of the giant’s old handmade shoes on display, and they allow visitors to stand in them to have their pictures taken.

  • Skirt Chasers

    My sporty friends, there is now an entire company dedicated
    to hawking athletic skorts. You’ll find ’em at www.skirtsports.com. The founder, so
    says the press release, is Nicole DeBoom, an Ironman champion who just so
    happens to be married to superstar triathlete Tim DeBoom. Anyhoo, wearing these
    polypro skirts can be a sport in and of itself, if you ask me. They cause quite a stir at the gym, for instance. When stretching in downward dog or
    climbing on the stationary bicycle, orbiting gym rats get to peek up your skirt,
    which is really no shorter than an ordinary pair of running shorts-but is much
    more effective in keeping ’em glued. What fun!

     

  • Mind & Body, Plagues & Pleasures

    SPECIAL EVENT
    Wood Grooves

    Join us at the Gallery of Wood Art tonight for Gallery Grooves, The Rake’s monthly art, jazz, and
    wine event. Socialize and discuss the latest jazz with Kevin Barnes
    from KBEM, view artwork for sale, and enjoy wine info and sampling courtesy of The Wine Company. The gallery’s current exhibition, Turning Green: Art with an
    Eco-twist, is sometimes serious, sometimes humorous, and always
    thought-provoking. Plus, enjoy a special sneak preview of Woodturning in Basic Black. Dramatic forms take the front seat with works in black by fourteen contemporary top studio turners. —Jennifer Havrish

    7 to 9 p.m., American Association of Woodturners Gallery of Wood Art, Landmark Center, 75 W. 5th St., St. Paul; 651-484-9094; free.

     

    BOOKS & AUTHORS
    Waking Mind and Body

    Matthew Sanford has been a paraplegic since the age of 13. And while some of us may gasp, think "poor guy," or begin assessing our own apparent luck, Sanford inspires much more than these piddly, contrived reactions. For the past 28 years the man has dedicated himself to.. well… healing — healing himself, helping guide others toward healing, helping to clear the path and hone the tools, preparing the environment and showing, through example, what this all means. What does he do? A little bit of everything. He shares, I guess. He’s a public speaker. He’s a yoga instructor who believes, "we all live on a continuum of abilities and disabilities." He’s the founder of Mind Body Solutions, a non-profit dedicated to "the simple and practical notion that minds and bodies work better together." And he’s the author of Waking: A Memoir of Trauma and Transcendence, which narrates his "healing journey—from near death to
    triumphant life and all the stops in between." As it happens, Sanford is also an Orono Middle School parent, so he’ll be gracing the school with his presence this evening to share his experiences with us and read from his memoir. Now in its fifth edition, Waking won the People’s Choice Award at the 2007 Minnesota
    Book Awards.

    7 to 8:30 p.m., Orono Middle School, 800 Crystal Bay Rd., Orono; 952-449-8450.

    FILM
    Plagues & Pleasures on the Salton Sea

    What kind of natural wonder could possibly bring together a beer-loving Hungarian Revolutionary Hunky Daddy, a sign-weilding nudist, a man whose religious vision includes building a mountain out of mud and paint, a real-estate agent nicknamed "The Landman," and thousands of dead birds and fish? That would be Califoria’s Salton Sea, and the new documentary Plagues & Pleasures on the Salton Sea set out to explore the history and people behind this polluted lake that has been called one of Americans greatest ecological disasters. A question and answer session with the film’s director, Chris Metzler, will follow tonight’s screening. —Kate McDonald

    7 p.m., Minnesota Museum of American Art, 50 W. Kellogg Blvd., St. Paul; 651-291-2947; free.

    Into the Darkness

    Ever wonder if a storm drain looks the same in Glasgow as it does in
    St. Paul? How about what the catacombs in Paris look like from the
    inside, or what being in an abandoned NASA rocket in Florida is like?
    These are just some of the places where Minnesota filmmaker Melody Gilbert
    takes us in her new documentary Urban Explorers: Into the Darkness. The
    film follows a subculture of young adventurers who explore the
    abandoned and underground sites in some of the world’s biggest cities.
    Sometimes chased by police or having to wade knee-deep through sewage,
    these explorers seek not only the thrill of the unknown and dangerous but
    also to try to understand the history and witness the beauty that these
    rarely seen sites hold. Tonight, you can do a little exploring of your own. —Kate McDonald

    7 p.m., Riverview Theater, 3800 42nd Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-729-7369; $8.

     

    MUSIC
    Mel Gibson and the Pants

    One should not hold Mel Gibson’s recent unfavorable behavior against them. The fact of the matter is that the 5-piece hip-hop and electronic rock band Mel Gibson and the Pants existed years before Mel’s name became synonymous with anti-Semitic remarks and poorly and impaired driving decisions. Indeed, back in 2004 Mel only conjured visions of a rougedly handsome blue-face-painted Scottish military hero — just the kind of vision for which a good band should be named. And despite the recent negative publicity now associated with their namesake, Mel Gibson and the Pant’s unique sound has made them a favorite, not only on the local scene but on the national front as well due to their recent collaborations with P.O.S. and Eyedea. —Kate McDonald

    9 p.m., The Nomad, 501 Cedar Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-338-6424.

  • Just Another Day in America

    "Man Opens Fire at Omaha Mall, Killing 8" — this is the way we express outrage now. No protests. No marches. No picket lines. No petitions. No vigils. No. Now we simply pull out the big guns.

    "Gunman Kills 8 People, Then Himself at a Mall in Omaha" — this is the way we end it all now. No slit wrists. No bottles of pills. No cyanide. No smoking, of course. No. Now we take a few down with us.

    It’s time to go.

    But first let’s turn on that damning death box and have a good laugh over it at Comedy Central.

  • Go Whole Hog

    The December 3, 2007, issue of the New Yorker contains an article called Red, White, and Bleu, by the hale and cerebral food writer Bill Buford, which focuses on the joys of being a carnivore.

    In it, Buford "reviews" three books about meat, while weaving in his own questions, philosophies, and conclusions on the topic — and these are many, given this is a writer who’s been bloody-to-the-elbows with butchers and renderers many times before.

    What do we eat when we eat meat? Buford asks at the outset. And it’s clear he believes on some level that each and every one of us should know. We should have some image of the saw that’s used to hack through a carcass; the way entrails come out of a just-dead animal all glistening pink and linked; the various parts (like knuckles and snout and lungs) that most habitual steak eaters and foie gras fans wouldn’t even touch.

    It’s worth a read. And if you’re inspired then to sample some meat you will recognize, make a reservation at Heartland, where chef Lenny Russo informs me he’s just taken delivery on a whole hog. Then again, if you wait until tomorrow, Russo will have an entire wild boar on hand, so you might be able to get your porcine meat garnished with a horn. Also, Russo is expecting a bull calf in time for the weekend and two woolly lambs should be arriving by Fed Ex on Tuesday next week.

    This is no magical mystery tour. At Heartland, you will get meat dishes that wear their origins proudly. Russo — an adherent of the near-Biblical tenet that you do not waste any edible portion of the beast you kill — promises to find a culinary use for "all the bits and parts." And this includes, but is not limited to, livers, brains, kidneys, testicles, and tongues.

    So what kind of a carnivore are you? Are you brave enough to get to know your meat? I dare you. Go whole hog.

  • Can a Horse Convert to Scientology?

    Photo: He doesn’t have the stomach for it, nor do I.

    The recent article about Scientology reminds me of an ordeal my business endured last year (and it has a car angle).

    I have created advertising for the National Western in Denver for the past three years. It is the world’s largest stock show (800,000 attend). Our campaign has made the animals the "Rock Stars of the West." While we’ve had a few run-ins with PETA, we’ve had more trouble with the Scientologists.

    It all started when one of our ads claimed that the horses of the Show would be "The Only Stars Not Converting to Scientology"

    The Church thought otherwise. Lawsuits were threatened, the ad was pulled, and we got around a personal lashing from Tom Cruise only by agreeing to send the agency to a day of (unpaid) sensitivity training at their HQ in suburban Engelwood.

    It was bad.

    What made it truly unbearable was the insensitivty of their staff towards my beloved Mustang (real horses scare me, so I drove my car). While we were being walked out of their building to the parking lot, I was treated like Mephistopheles for worshipping such a gas guzzler.

    Right.

    I’d like to see their puny church choirs match my Cobra Kenny’s awesome pipes.* While I am not sure their churches even have choirs, apparently some Scientologists have little sense of humor.

    * I just sold my Cobra "Kenny," but his spirit has not left me. Especially not his heavenly custom-tuned Bassani exhaust.

     

     

     

     

     

  • Local Food Heroes

    Food Heroes don’t leap tall buildings in a single bound, their deeds are rather more humble. They get in the dirt when it’s still frozen or wake up before the sun to hang out with the goats. They spend their summer weekends working the markets or give up holiday time to make the most of the retail flurry. They live the dream, and for a few dollars less than most of us would expect.

    Edible Twin Cities, part of the national Edible Communities, celebrates local food mavens on a quarterly basis. Now they want you to nominate your favorites for their Local Food Heroes awards.

    Categories for nominations are:

    Best Farm/Farmer (did you get some awesome CSA form Loon Organics this year? have you heard about the good work of Gale Woods Farm? Cedar Summit? Callister Farms?)

    Best Chef/Restaurant (I don’t know … Scott Pampuch is both talented and cute … there’s always the Goddess of Local … I’m still mad at JD, but still believe in him … Mr. Midwest continues to make me proud of my home … it’s a toss up.)

    Best Food Artisan (Love Amy, love the shortbread … Laurie’s Golden Fig products invade my kitchen … Daddy Sam’s is surprisingly local… I know it’s cold, but I still dream of Izzy’s and Pumphouse Creamery)

    Best Beverage Artisan (um … Mrs. Kelly of course … the Peace Coffee gang … Surly Surly Surly … Town Hall Brewery’s efforts to cure January with a growler of Retreating Darkness is worth gold)

    Best Non-Profit Organization (It’s hard to pick one amongst Slow Food MN, Land Stewardship Project, Heartland Food Network, Minnesota Grown Program …and so many others)

    Vote away!