The Rake Magazine

Author: Rich Goldsmith

  • Let's Do the Time Warp Again

    In Godzilla movies, fallout from a nuclear test or some
    other significant disaster often awakens the monster, or one of his rivals,
    wreaking untold destruction upon Japan, like so.

    Here in Minnesota, we’re just starting to see the true fallout from the
    February 25 vote to override Gov. Pawlenty’s veto of the DFL transportation
    bill. In a "Welcome to
    Tokyo    " moment, State Representatives Ron Erhardt, Neil Peterson, and Jim
    Abeler, three of the six Republicans who voted in support of the veto, had
    their asses summarily handed to them in Saturday’s Republican convention, with
    Erhardt and Peterson losing the state GOP endorsement to Keith Downey and Jan Schneider, respectively. Abeler,
    who represents Anoka and was running completely unopposed except for
    token opposition from local puppet and drunken reprobate Sailor
    Martin     and previously unknown carpetbagger Boxy
    Brown    , also couldn’t seal the deal, failing to secure the 60 percent
    majority needed to sew up the endorsement – and when Anoka Republicans would
    rather go without than give you any love, you know you’ve got problems.

    Of course, even without the veto override, these three may
    have been taken behind the woodshed. There seems to be a definite trend toward
    the right in the state party as a whole, a trend that definitely does not favor
    moderate Republicans. This trend seems, upon first glance, a bit bizarre.
    Minnesota has a grand tradition of moderate Republicans working hand in hand
    with the DFL – great men like Arne Carlson and Rudy Boschwitz. Why trade that
    legacy for complete and utter raving Bachmann-esque bat-shit crazy, especially over
    the objections     of some of the most respected members of the caucus? Only
    Ron Carey knows for sure, and he’s too busy making ad
    buys on Fox     to chat.

    Regardless, the veto override has only accelerated a process
    that began around the time Jesse Ventura left office, thus depriving Democrats
    and Republicans of a common enemy and causing both parties to drift away from center like drunken sorority girls too focused on texting their booty call to watch the road. The theory in vogue among Republican analysts, however, is that Republican
    leaders feel moderates can’t draw the line in the sand voters need in order to
    decide between GOP and DFL.

    In a way, this makes sense. Had GI Joe not had such
    drastically
    different ideology     from Cobra, would we have cheered them on despite the
    confusion engendered by the feelings the Baroness evoked in us? And
    if our fearless Republican leadership can deal with Cobra, is there really any
    question of their ability to secure our borders against the invasion forces of
    the vile Canadians?
    For if we do not fight them in Winnipeg, will we not have to fight them in
    Hibbing? And given the platform many of these new legislators stand on, "them"
    happens to include gay marriage and teachers.

    Make no mistake, this strategy will garner votes. The issues
    many of these candidates are running on are those that have divided the state,
    and the rest of the country, for the last eight years, if not longer. What
    remains to be seen is whether these issues drive enough Republicans to the
    polls to retake the legislature or if the sharply divisive rhetoric from both
    sides delivers a veto-proof majority to the DFL.

    In the meantime, we can take heart that there is still
    one issue that crosses party lines and serves to bring us together regardless
    of political affiliation. One issue that simultaneously brings a smile to the
    faces of Clinton, McCain and Bush. One issue that, if we’re all honest with
    ourselves, warms our hearts and speaks to us in a universal language – skantily-clad
    viral
    video
    stars    .

  • Too Sexy for Uptown

    Today is the day Uptown brings sexy back.

    Even as Calhoun Square divests itself of undesirable
    tenants, forcing men in striped shirts stumbling blindly forth from Drink to satisfy their gyro pizza cravings elsewhere, an
    ominous pink glow rises from what was once the home
    of sensibly priced polos and ringer tees     – signaling a new order at Lake
    and Hennepin. A new order that could potentially blow the minds of Uptown
    residents and shoppers alike. A new order that, if left unchecked, could plant
    the seed of corruption in the impressionable minds looking for an intellectual
    connection     atop the
    rooftop at Stella’s    . For lo, the
    pink-gartered beast from Columbus     has arrived in Uptown, entreating and
    cajoling all who pass by with promises of crotchless hedonistic delights
    within.

    Or at least, that’s what Victoria’s Secret CEO Sharen Jester
    Turney would have
    us believe    . According to Turney, Victoria’s Secret has become far too sexy,
    instantly transforming upstanding Lunds shoppers into streetwalkers and whores and stirring men into
    testosterone fueled rampages –forcing them to don designer jeans and untucked shirts at a
    heretofore unheard of pace in order to engage in frenzied rituals involving
    Captain Morgan and the spasmodic twitching that passes for dance among males of the species. Minneapolis’ corporate sector will grind to a standstill
    as the siren song of garter belts and bustiers lures unsuspecting men and women
    into a hormone-laden trap, with the furious coupling that ensues resulting in a
    baby boom of unprecedented proportions – potentially rendering the Social
    Security system solvent again.

    In reality, the arrival of Victoria’s Secret does
    not herald the carnal apocalypse. But, it does signal a new era in the
    Uptown saga. And while it promises fiscal stability, as fellow
    blogger Christy DeSmith mentioned    , there are significant questions
    surrounding the redesign of Calhoun Square and its surrounding environs,
    especially as pertains to the retail mix. Independent restaurants and shops
    have played a large role in Uptown’s history, but many smaller Calhoun Square
    tenants are leaving, whether because of the instability inherent to a
    significant redesign like the one the property is going through, or because
    their leases aren’t being renewed. Longtime stalwarts like The Lotus are
    getting the "morning after the one-night-stand" treatment. Sobriety has come
    crashing down and while it seemed like a great idea at the time, the cold light
    of day has revealed Dan Frischman – Arvid
    from TV sitcom "Head of the Class" – lying languidly beside you, basking in the afterglow. The door can’t hit them in the ass fast enough.

    The plans put forth by the new owners of Calhoun Square call
    for a "mix of national retailers, local
    boutiques, and engaging restaurant concepts, including a mix of new and current
    tenants…" but that promise is eerily similar to the initial proposals for the
    urban nightmare that is Block E and doesn’t hold much water given the exodus of
    current tenants, though some, like Kitchen Window, have had their leases
    extended. And with American Apparel, Victoria’s Secret and North Face
    all setting up shop near the already well-established Urban Outfitters, Uptown
    residents have every right to be suspicious.

    In fact, residents are already reverting to the
    slavering attack dogs who so handily helped scuttle plans for a high-rise condo
    above the Lagoon Theater.In an example of either the craven cowardice of the
    Minneapolis Planning Commission, or the strident power of community activism,
    neighborhood residents have already sent the Minneapolis Planning Commission
    scrambling for cover as they bombard the developer with demands for "more public
    space" in the Calhoun Square redesign, as well as concerns over the possibility
    of large "anchor" tenants at the redesigned mall. Despite the support of city planners, communit concerns have caused approval of the project to be delayed till the Planning Commission’s next meeting on March 31st.

    Luckily, amid the rancor and disquiet, we have the
    comforting pink glow of Victoria’s Secret to remind us that even if a Chili’s
    takes the place of our beloved Figlio, we can always give in to the
    overpowering carnality emanating from 3000 Hennepin Ave. and embrace the
    hedonistic lifestyle proffered by Gisele’s cleavage, at least until Sharen
    Turney introduces the all new Very Sexy Chastity Belt and reveals the company’s latest spokesmodel.

     

  • Primarily Screwed

    If astronomers and astrophysicists are correct, we’ve got
    another 13-16 billion years until the universe collapses under its own mass and
    hubris in a Big Crunch – making it all the more impressive that it has taken just a few short months for Sen. Hillary Clinton’s
    world to implode, compacting itself into a fiery mass of universal healthcare and
    primary-hued pantsuits. And best of all, emanating from deep within the core of
    this soon-to-be black hole from whence no screams or painfully contrived holiday
    greeting     can escape, is a sound familiar to anyone with an eight year old –
    whining.

    Yes, even as we eagerly hang on every word about the hard
    fought Democratic primaries in Texas, Rhode Island, Vermont and Ohio from MPR
    correspondents and CNN pundits, tuning in to Naked
    News     just in case that austere and respected bastion of quality reporting
    may have picked up on a polling nuance that others haven’t, the Clinton camp is
    engaging in an entertaining campaign of whining and finger pointing. Top
    campaign advisors Mark Penn and Harold Ickes have already started to distance
    themselves from what is rapidly starting to appear to be a Dean-esque clusterfuck,
    with Penn saying something to the effect of, "I just stopped in to use the
    wi-fi and surf porn. They asked me about some campaign messages, but I didn’t
    think they’d actually take my advice. Dumbasses."

    And at this point, none of this comes as a surprise. The
    attitude of the Clinton camp from the launch of the campaign was that of the
    anointed standard-bearer of the Democratic party. As a result, the campaign
    became that painfully attractive guy/girl who feels like they can just lay
    there while we do all the work. What the Clintons didn’t realize was that
    liberals across America just wanted to get their freak on, and would happily do
    so with an upstart senator from Illinois with a populist message and a knack for oratory that can
    moisten progressive panties     from sea to shining sea.

    But since they were the front-runners for so long, don’t
    they have every right to be obnoxiously whiny? Are they not well within their
    rights when pointing fingers at the media for being so hard on Sen. Clinton, at
    each other for not providing winning strategies for undermining the hope for
    change that Obama uses as his rallying cry, and at Sen. Clinton for being the
    unappealing, though well-intentioned and profoundly intelligent, battle-axe
    we’ve all come to know and love?

    The simple answer is yes, they’re free to whine. This is
    America after all – a land where freedom reigns supreme, former Mickey Mouse Club members can parlay fame into
    failure and Cristina Aguilera
    turns out to be the sane one. But if they feel the need to whine, they should
    be whining about the right things – such as the fact that the campaign never
    recovered from its failures in Iowa, where underfunding and understaffing
    doomed Clinton to finishing in third place. Or perhaps they should focus on the
    painful truth that Bill Clinton’s hubris lost them several southern states as
    he fought a doomed campaign in South Carolina when he could’ve done far more
    good elsewhere, failing to make up for the lousy
    aim     that landed him in only the second presidential impeachment trial in
    the history of the United States. Or even worse, that the same political strategists
    who raked in $5 million in January alone, $10 million in total, can’t come up
    with a better idea to counteract Barack Obama’s surging popularity than the chimpanzee
    approach     – throw a whole lot of shit at the wall and see what sticks.

    Sadly, not much has seemed to as of yet. While Clinton is
    reeking of desperation, frustration and, in a futile attempt to appeal more to
    females aged 18-34, copious amounts of Axe Body Spray, Obama seems
    largely untouched. And despite the stench, Clinton says she’s "…just getting warmed
    up    ." Apparently the old girl needs a lot of foreplay. It’s a good thing Sen. Clinton
    is finally ready though, since by the end of today we ought to know if Hillary is as
    well and truly boned as the women Bill has been picking up along the campaign
    trail.

  • A Dearth of Hookers and Blow

    It has become quite obvious in recent days that loyal
    service just isn’t rewarded within the legislature anymore. As recently as a
    handful of years ago, long-tenured legislators and officials would be shown the
    public’s appreciation through pompous public ceremonies and the occasional
    backroom smorgasbord of hookers and blow. But Lindsey
    Lohan’s rates     have gone through the roof, and tight budgets have reduced the
    budget for recreational pharmaceuticals in the Senate to almost nil. As a
    result, the legislature hasn’t put together a proper farewell for our very own
    soon-to-be departing state transportation commissioner slash
    lieutenant-governor – Carol Molnau.

    Since Tim Pawlenty’s election in 2002, Molnau has tirelessly
    served our state as a triple threat – lieutenant governor, transportation
    commissioner and national arm
    wrestling champion    . Her self-proclaimed transportation expertise, which has
    been amply demonstrated by such deftly executed projects as the Wakota
    Bridge project    , and her masterful handling of the 35W/62 interchange project,
    where her requirement that all contractors bidding on the project pay
    construction costs up front and then be reimbursed by the state resulted in no
    bidders coming forward to take the work, stalling the project and saving the
    state millions in 2006.

    Of course, Molnau has had her detractors. Some call her
    leadership asinine, accusing her of being an unqualified bumpkin who managed to
    drive Mn/DOT into the ditch like a farm girl drunk on lust and moonshine
    attempting to make it to Sartel on her daddy’s tractor.
    Unfortunately, the tractor in question vibrates quite distractingly once it
    hits 5 miles per hour, making it hard for our heroine to keep her eyes on the
    road. Of course, it doesn’t help that the roads the tractor has to travel on,
    in the words of several legislators, are "crumbling," or that the process for
    awarding the hundreds of millions of dollars at stake for the new 35W bridge
    was approximately as comprehensible as Britney Spears’ thought
    processes    . In the meantime, she’ll just need to rev that fucker up and jump
    the gap in true Duke boys
    fashion    . And if the tractor won’t cut it, maybe she can borrow one of those
    brand new F-150s
    Flatiron imported from Colorado for the project.

    Regardless, Molnau is most likely on her way out today, so
    why focus on the pain of the past when we can build a brighter future? The king
    is dead, long live the king, and all that, right? Well, in order to build that
    brighter future, we’ll need a new transportation commissioner. Someone who can
    unite, rather than divide. Someone who can bring hope to all – from the
    unwashed masses on the 5 to the Chaska housewife deftly maneuvering her
    lumbering Expedition from pothole to pothole.

    And who would my recommendation be for this august post,
    assuming Molnau goes the way of the nigh-mythical Yecki? Who could be our
    beacon, our ray of hope that will bring happiness and My Little Pony back to
    this great state?

    Laurie Coleman

    Mrs. Coleman would be the ideal choice to resurrect our
    transportation infrastructure from the blasted,
    post-apocalyptic landscape     we’re greeted with on a daily basis. She learned
    urban renewal from Norm Coleman – a man who has played both sides of the aisle
    in his political career with grace and aplomb, not to mention a certain amount
    of opportunism. She can sell
    ideas     in ways that Carol Molnau never dreamed. This former runway model has
    already convinced me to install a Blo & Go, though I was under the
    impression it offered an entirely different feature set that would have more utility for today’s man on the go. I’ve
    even heard that, in preparation for the call from Gov. Pawlenty, she has
    devised a way to monetize Minnesota’s surplus of icy Scandinavian blondes, a
    resource our great state is known for. According to Coleman’s projections, this
    new export could likely negate the need for the recently passed gas tax.

    Of course, it doesn’t hurt that she’s hot. We could use a little eye-candy to distract us from the politicking and rampant idiocy. Besides, did not
    Keats say, "Beauty is truth, truth beauty,-that is all ye know on earth, and
    all ye need to know"? Which, after taking a spin through the photos
    of our legislators    , goes a long way toward explaining why truth comes at
    such a premium up at the capitol these days.

  • Innocence Lost

    Since taking office in 2003, Tim Pawlenty has done an
    admirable job of holding to his conservative values and staving off those in the legislature who would pluck that last bastion of political innocence. From saying no
    to an omnibus higher education bill last May to drawing the line at the
    appointment of a state poet laureate, our fearless leader has never allowed the
    fumbling advances of the DFL to arouse his executive passions and cajole him
    into doing something rash, something he’d regret in the harsh light of the
    Minnesota morning, possibly even something that would fund bridges, highways and transit. His steadfastness in the face of judgment clouding sex
    pots like Sen.
    Tom "The Sex Hog" Saxhaug     has served us well, sparing us from what would’ve been a near
    certain call
    for a state mime    .

    Yesterday however, our pure and chaste governor’s defenses
    were finally ground down, the sultry cajoling of the assembled legislators
    laying our stalwart executive gently down as his few remaining objections were
    overridden in both the Minnesota House and Senate. Afterwards, Governor
    Pawlenty sat stunned and ashamed, calling the events of the day "Ridiculous in
    scope and magnitude," and fretting over whether the legislature would call like
    it said it would, or if Eagan
    would lose all respect for him    . Sen. Saxhaug was oblivious to the
    governor’s concern, joining the rest of the DFL in hailing the transportation
    bill’s passage as a great victory for the people of Minnesota, making somewhat
    dubious connections to recent disasters and feverishly penning his "I never
    thought it would happen to me, but…" letter to Penthouse Forum.

    Of course, what truly stands a chance of being lost as the
    governor attempts to find ways to cope, perhaps even standing in solidarity
    with other wronged public
    figures    , isn’t the fact that Minnesotans will be coping with the first hike
    in the gas tax in 20 years, or that Hennepin county residents may start to
    wonder just what they did to deserve the legislative application of the shocker as a quarter cent sales tax
    increase devoted to transit projects gets piled on top of last summer’s referendum-free
    sales tax increase aimed at funding the Twins’ newly Santana-free stadium. It’s
    the dictatorial ball-peen hammer to the huevos given to the six House
    Republicans who crossed the aisle and voted to override the governor’s veto
    that will likely get lost in the shuffle.

    You see, neither party enjoys when its members step out of
    line – especially when such antics result in a 91-41 legislative gang-bang that
    leaves the governor of our fair state wondering why he was subjected to such
    treatment when it’s patently obvious he hired Carol Molnau
    for just such an occasion. In this case, the Republicans who claim to have
    voted their conscience are being threatened with, according to Rep. Ron
    Erhardt, "loss of media privileges, staff members, and research resources." Maybe
    if we’re lucky, House Minority Leader Marty Seifert will be caught planting
    dead hookers and a small meth lab in Rep. Erhardt’s office. Regardless of the outcome, it’s good to know
    that even though Michelle Bachmann has left the building, there’s still some
    bat shit crazy left in the air.

  • Super Tuesday

    Beware Minnesotans, as you
    look hungrily toward the weekend of various and sundry
    dips    , lowest common denominator
    too hot for TV sales pitches    ,
    and an incidental football game. For this weekend marks the opening
    of the Black Gates of Democracy, unleashing the unwashed hordes of political
    punditry upon our fair state.

    Now that political heavyweights
    such as Iowa, Rhode Island and South Carolina have made their voices
    heard, clearly announcing that no, they just can’t see a man who lacquers his hair and happens to be named after a German
    side dish as presidential material, it is Minnesota’s turn to make
    our voices heard on the national scene.

    Make no mistake, our time in
    the primary limelight will be intense as presidential candidates arrive in town with media entourage in tow and a
    lemony-fresh whiff o’ change in the air that gamely attempts to cover
    the sharp bracing tang of broken campaign promises carried on the wind.
    The compliments will come fast and furious, detailing our importance
    to the electoral process, how beautiful our state is, how hardy we are
    to survive in this frozen wasteland, our obvious work ethic. We’ll be dazzled by the flashbulbs
    and wit of made-for-TV political
    pundits     displaying
    their assets, intellectual and otherwise. We’ll be coddled and aroused into
    heart-pounding complacency by pillow talk topics like health care reform,
    economic stimulus, and sex education (at least on the Republican side). We’ll be convinced that our vote,
    our choice will be what makes or breaks our chosen candidates.

    But don’t be fooled. Sadly,
    even Super Tuesday and Minnesota’s small part in this orgy of punditry
    and promises isn’t going to bring this year’s primary season to
    a close. Given the amount of money flowing and the polarization of the
    electorate, this one will go to the wire.

    So make no mistake — it’s
    prom night for Minnesota, people. The glitz and glamour are fleeting.
    And while the quarterback asked us to the dance, we all know he just
    wants in to our sensibly warm, yet still quite sexy, panties. But despite
    that, we suck in our winter padding, bare our collective cleavage and
    make it known that for a flash of the pearly whites, our virtue up for
    grabs. But similar to the prom night experiences of adolescent women
    throughout the land, these first few precious
    sweaty fumbling moments
    quickly fade in the cold light of Super Tuesday, giving way to a cold hollow
    feeling as the candidates move on to other states with bigger racks
    or tighter asses. Or that slut, California, who puts out for any Austrian
    with nice biceps.

    Then the guilt settles in,
    because how could we be so stupid? Oh my god! We’re such whores! How
    could we have given it up for a few simple talking points, a flashy green pantsuit, and some vague promises to make our
    dreams come true? And after a few desperate phone
    calls    , we’ll
    settle in for the rest of the long Minnesota winter with an appletini
    and DVDs of The Wire, our innocence lost, but secure in the knowledge
    that they’ll be back for more next fall.

  • Crossing the Aisle

    Yesterday, amid news of four ton satellites
    falling from the heavens
    and the pending departure
    of Minnesota’s last sports superstar    ,
    a glimmering beacon of hope shone from our nation’s capital. The House
    of Representatives, in one brief shining moment of accord, today put
    aside their rancor for a subject not involving burly men injecting
    illicit substances into their exquisitely toned
    buttocks    . In our
    nation’s time of need, our elected representatives have pieced together
    a package that will help ensure we all come through the lean times ahead with a smile and a shiny new iPod.

    This nearly $150 billion package
    not only puts $600 in the hands of nearly every tax-paying, God-fearing
    citizen in the country, but also provides $300 for those too poor to
    pay income taxes. Yes, now even the homeless, wild-eyed mental patient
    wandering Nicollet Mall spraying rapid-fire racial epithets will be
    able to afford a Nano and still have money left over to
    load it up with Katt
    Williams     and Michael Richards to freshen up his routine.

    Of course, some may say it
    seems mighty strange that a tax rebate, usually one of the first moves
    during flush times when the Cristal flows like Champale, is the answer to the anguish caused
    by the subprime meltdown. But according to our redoubtable leaders in
    Washington, this is the exact mix of consumer rebates and business tax cuts our
    economy so desperately needs.

    Never mind that it might appear
    that this bill is being fast tracked to help our elected leaders avoid
    the appearance of not being a dynamic force for the good of all Americans
    in an election year. It’s not as if we’ll be borrowing the money
    to pay for this package from China, and then immediately spending that
    money on consumer goods from China, thus dramatically widening the trade
    deficit and creating an ever-deepening and self-perpetuating spiral
    of debt and deficit that we’ll pass to our grandchildren, who will
    curse our names and hock loogies at us whilst we tell tales of the good
    old days, before people were chosen by lottery to fight giant pandas
    in a grand arena
    for the amusement of the new Chinese aristocracy.

    Ah well, luckily, we have the
    Senate to thoroughly vet this
    bill     and act as
    America’s voice of reason, sobriety, and temperance.

  • Andy Cilek Thinks You’re an Idiot

    Last year, instant runoff voting
    was approved by an overwhelming majority of Minneapolis residents. 65
    percent of voters, to be exact. Given that it’s difficult to find
    65 percent of people to agree with something as uncontroversial as whether
    Britney Spears’ contributions to the gene pool violate environmental
    protection statutes and constitute illegal dumping, a 65 percent mandate
    seems fairly miraculous – and all the more unassailable for its unique
    nature in today’s partisan atmosphere. So why is Andy Cilek and his
    Minnesota Voters Alliance suing the city to prevent the new system from
    starting? Especially when Minneapolis residents seem fairly convinced
    the new system will help third party candidates, increase election turnouts,
    and generally make the world a better place, complete with smiling,
    magical, winged unicorns cavorting in the streets with adorably fuzzy
    animals and martini making robots in every household.

    To answer the question of why
    a "non-partisan" killjoy is looking to piss all over a rare bipartisan
    voter mandate that somehow didn’t bring the Earth’s rotation to
    a world-ending halt, we need to start off by defining instant runoff
    voting. Keep in mind however, that there is no hope of understanding
    a system obviously designed by the Elder Gods – a system created with
    impossible angles never meant to be understood by the base animal that
    is man. In fact, the poor unenlightened masses Mr. Cilek and his ilk
    are so desperately trying to protect were clearly hopped up on special K and were offered special service
    packages     in return
    for their vote when they stopped off at polling places last year. That’s
    the only explanation for the measure’s passage. But despite this fundamentally
    unknowable nature of this concept, the effort must be made.

    Instant runoff voting, at its
    most base level, involves ranking candidates on a ballot in order of
    preference so that, in the event no one receives a clear majority, the
    candidate receiving the fewest "number one" votes is dropped from
    the ballot and everyone who gave those "number one" votes has their
    "number two" votes applied – and on down the line until someone
    receives a majority of the votes. Fairly simple and straightforward,
    no? So why does Mr. Cilek think Minneapolis residents are too addlepated,
    inbred, and generally too fucking dumb to understand the process?

    In fact, to help illustrate
    just how close the average Minneapolis resident’s mental capacity
    is to that of Jessica Simpson, the Minnesota Voters Alliance engaged
    in a highly scientific survey to demonstrate that Minneapolis voters
    didn’t even understand what they were voting for last year and just
    filled in the pretty circle on the ballot. Mr. Cilek’s flunkies talked
    to "about 300 people" and found less than three voters who could
    explain the instant runoff system. Of course, it’s entirely possibly
    the survey was taken at a Sigma Chi fraternity party on the U campus
    (keg stands are really an underutilized opportunity to take the pulse
    of the community), or while canvassing the city’s finer gentlemen’s
    clubs (I’ve heard the dancers at Sinners are particularly well informed, though
    the ones at Schiek’s have fascinating opinions on farm subsidies)
    – but we may never know, since there’s no published methodology,
    or even official results. We’re just expected to take the Alliance’s
    word for it – non-partisan political organizations being so credible
    these days. Plus, to put it bluntly – I have no damn clue exactly
    how my TV works, but I manage to tune in to Robot Chicken just fine. And I’ve got news for
    you…Seth Green is a
    fucked up little man    .

    Of course, the stultifying
    idiocy endemic to Minneapolis isn’t the only reason the Alliance opposes
    instant runoff voting. It’s unconstitutional and disenfranchises voters!
    I’m not a constitutional scholar, or even a Talmudic one, but I can’t
    really see how a system used by all sorts of countries that have managed
    to figure out the whole affordable health care thing, and even a few
    states right here in the good ol’ U.S. of A. that don’t seem to
    feel that it violates the whole "one person, one vote" concept.
    And as for disenfranchising people? I, and most other political analysts,
    fail to see how giving people the opportunity to vote for the candidate
    that best matches their ideology, be it Republican, Democrat, or cannibalistic
    anarcho-syndicalist, without feeling as if they’ll be wasting their
    vote. So Mr. Cilek response is to use his angry monkey style– that is, throwing a whole bunch
    of shit against the wall in the hopes that some of it sticks. This is
    not to be confused with tiger style, crane style, or the ever popular doggy style.

  • Warming the hearts of skanky drunks everywhere

    Dear scantily clad women shivering
    on 1st Avenue
    at bar close, waiting for the cab the bartender called for you 45 minutes
    ago, 

    Thanks to U.S. District Judge
    James Rosenbaum, no longer will you have to wait to get home and get
    your swerve on with that friendly soul who was so kind as to buy you
    five vodka and Red Bulls. You see, prior to this decision to throw the lawsuit to block
    the expansion of cab services in Minneapolis
    out of court, Minneapolis desire to expand its taxi fleet was on hold,
    still operating under an asinine cap system, holding the city to a preset
    number of taxis. In October, 2006, the city decided to address the issue,
    opening taxi service up for expansion. The Minneapolis Taxi Owners Coalition
    quickly sued to block the expansion, fearing for their contract with
    HBO for the next season of "Taxicab Confessions." Given how reliant other cities
    are on cabs, this would seem to be a large-scale issue. In fact, last
    year the city had only 343 cabs – not nearly enough to hold back the
    rising tide of fumbling drunks determined to shirk the sacred responsibilities
    of a lush, which include:

    • paying for parking
    • driving drunk
    • causing a five car
      pile up on 35W in an ill-advised, drunken attempt at road head

     

    Due to Judge Rosenbaum’s
    decision, taxi licenses will no longer cost would-be cabbies $25,000
    and a night of "initiation"(generally involving livestock, nudity,
    and unspeakable acts performed on the Mary Tyler Moore statue at 7th
    and Nicollet). For the next two years, the cap will be raised by 45
    licenses, and will be completely removed in 2010. The only restrictions
    placed on the proliferation of these rolling drunk tanks being that
    10 percent of the city’s cabs must be high efficiency or wheelchair
    accessible vehicles.  

    Of course, the decision doesn’t
    only bode well for the metro-area’s cleavage-baring and playa population.
    The majority of cab companies in the Twin Cities are minority owned,
    and one of the parties advocating blocking the lawsuit (and one of the
    first in line for the $425 taxi licenses) is at least partly minority-owned
    as well. And there’s certainly pent up demand, as evidenced by the
    busy signals so often heard when calling any of the major cab companies
    during bar close or afternoon rush hours. And visitors to our fair city
    from larger metropolises will no longer be baffled by the futility of
    using a cab for reliable transportation – an important key for tourist
    revenues. The upcoming Republican Convention couldn’t possibly have
    anything to do with the city’s decision to change the rules…could
    it? 

    Regardless, take heart, skeezy
    men and skanktastic women of First Avenue. Judge Rosenbaum has heard
    your cries for clemency and has the city well on its way to providing
    you with a chariot for all your debaucheristic needs. No more shall
    you shiver in the cold waving frantically for a cab, the handkerchief
    you wear as a top blowing in the chill wind as you teeter unsteadily
    on stiletto heels completely unsuited for a night of equilibrium annihilating
    drink. For Minneapolis and the U.S. Federal Courts have conquered the
    diabolical Taxi Owner’s Coalition in the name of drunkards and inebriates
    everywhere, and never shall you be forced to wait for a cab to experience
    the disappointment of a fumbling drunken one-night stand again.

  • The End Is Nigh!

    In the lean years that will
    soon follow, survivors will look back upon December 19, 2007 with pain
    and sorrow in their haunted eyes — for this day marked the beginning
    of the end. The Seventh Seal will soon be open, for the passage of the first increase in
    CAFÉ standards in more than 30 years
    can be naught but a signal that the End Times are upon us.

    Now, the "Energy Independence,
    Clean Air, and Climate Security Act of 2007    "
    is fairly atypical for a piece of compromise legislation in that it
    actually accomplishes something. That is, something beyond giving the honorable
    representative from Alaska
    some pork to sustain him through long cold nights spent dreaming of
    the day when Josh Hartnett
    will save him
    from the vampires that so often stalk Yukon towns. And to be sure, Rep.
    Don Young, even the legendary Hartnett, whose superhuman charms kept
    the ravenous hunger of Scarlett Johansson sated for longer than any
    normal man could ever hope for, cannot save you from the pending apocalypse
    signaled by the passage of a bill that calls for increased fuel consumption
    standards in passenger cars and light trucks. By 2020, no longer
    will Hummers be able to tool along I-94, secure in their superior ability
    to carry Viagra users from one tarmac covered area to another whilst
    fueling their unholy internal combustion with the most beautiful virgins
    in the land. And believe me – virgins do not make for efficient combustion.
    No, in just 13 short years, assuming the sun does not suddenly collapse
    into a neutron star when our fearless leader puts pen to paper on an
    environmentally friendly piece of legislation, the average fuel economy
    of every automaker’s fleet will be bumped to 35 miles per gallon.

     

    Of course, if one were not
    paying attention, it might be difficult to understand why this seemingly
    positive change signals a pending holocaust. I, however, am uniquely
    qualified to read these dire portents. Allow me to break it down for
    all y’all. While the phenomenon of congressional leaders finally summoning
    the intestinal fortitude to turn down the 72 virgin party offered by
    automakers and oil-producing countries may induce some to think the
    Rapture is coming, I have a much more simple theory. The passage of
    this bill may signal the Four Horseman simply because most experts for
    the last 30 years believed a hermaphrodite would make a run for the
    presidency before any elected official would make changes to those standards.
    Turns out they were right. And for the first time since the
    energy crisis of the 70s, no filibusters were held in protest of this
    assault on America’s big iron. No one listened to the feeble cries
    of American automakers screaming at the prospect of being forced to
    innovate, rather than offer U.S. consumers the chance to buy the umpteenth iteration
    of the Ford Taurus    .
    To be fair, the Taurus does not burn virgins for fuel. But it won’t
    get you in the back seat with one either. Of course, neither will most of today’s
    greenest cars    .

    Which brings us back to the
    apocalypse – an apocalypse that saves us nearly three million barrels
    of oil a day in 2020 and takes care of nearly a quarter of the U.S.’
    greenhouse emissions targets. Even more astounding, and quite possibly
    referenced in the Book of Revelations, is the addition of the Clean
    Power Act of 2007 – requiring the EPA to issue reduction targets in
    emissions from various and sundry power plants. Not to mention the ultra
    nifty perk for Minnesota that will have farmers from Redwood Falls to
    Ely twitching with subsidy-inspired incontinence – required U.S. biofuel
    production of 36 billion gallons by 2022. That’s a whole lot of corn
    – spelling millions upon millions of dollars for Minnesota farmers
    (which will get a virgin in the back seat of a Taurus).

    Just don’t expect to have
    long to enjoy it. Make your peace with your maker, horde foodstuffs,
    firearms, and neighborhood women, and convert your vehicle to run on
    vegetable oil, for today’s CAFÉ standards mark the beginning of Ragnarok.
    The great fire giant Surtr will soon cross the Rainbow Bridge with his
    ravening hordes and cleanse the world of late model Fords, sparing only
    Priuses and other Al Gore approved means of transportation. Like I said
    a couple days ago – we’re boned.