Category: Blog Post

I was knee-deep in the September issue, folks, when this intriguing press photo came across my desk. Oh, dear, how I love to eliminate pantylines. (I like to think there isn’t yet a cellulite problem back there.) But let this be known to the marketers of these products: No pantylines equals unwanted attention for adult, professional ladies (such as me). Why, just last week I was walking home from work in lovely a cotton summer dress when two fellas pulled up in their pickup truck to inquire as to whether I was wearing underthings. Needless to say, this isn’t the sort of attention I’m after when I take good care to smooth out backside cinch. Just thought you should know.

ARCHEOLOGY
Dig It

Minneapolis is certainly no Pompeii — for that you’ll have to go to the latest Science Museum exhibit, A Day in Pompeii — but we still have our hidden treasures. And I’m not talking about all the little theaters and arts venues that we’re always busy trying to bring to your attention. I’m talking about relics, friends, the genuine artifact. I’m talking about dirt and digging. I’m talking about the whole shebang. Experience an archaeological excavation in your own back yard. For the fourth year in a row, The Elliot Park Neighborhood Archeology Project is organizing a five-day archaeological dig to explore the history beneath our very feet. What lies beneath you, my friend? This year’s historic archaeological site is located on Grant, between Portland Ave. S. and 15th St., currently a gravel parking lot. Stop on by to watch the process, or help out with a little digging of your own. See if you can find something interesting from the 19th- and early 20th-century houses that used to be there. You might even find a little treasure. Previous digs have turned up everything from chamber pots, to fireplaces, to human teeth.

9-5 p.m. (through Sunday), Elliot Park, E. Grant St., between Portland Ave. S. and 15th St.; 612-335-5846; free.

ART
Bringing Money to the Arts

Banks and art don’t seem to have much of a direct connection in the states. (In Puerto Rico, Banco Popular — Popular Bank — sponsors a great deal of local art, especially music, so a trip to the bank often nurtures your artistic sensibilities. Go figure. Anyhow, that’s usually not the case here.) A trip to the bank is a trip to the bank. Hell, we’re a practical people, less flowery than the Caribbean sun demands. Or so I thought, but maybe all this heat is getting to our heads. Tonight, Klein Bank is opening a new location in Maple Grove, and they’re bringing in the arts. It’s quite the smart move, really. They’ve invited artists to set up their work in and around their conference room. And they’ve invited their top customers to enjoy their celebration and peruse the artwork in search of new art for their offices and homes. Nice. If you can’t bring money to the arts, then bring the arts to the money. I like it.

3 p.m., Klein Bank, Fountains at Arbor Lakes (by Benihana), Maple Grove; 763-463-9662; free.

Carnaval Mazatleco

Also opening this evening is photographer Dusty Hoskovec’s exhibit at the Broiler Room. Hoskovec will be displaying his photographs from this year’s Carnaval celebration in Mazatlan, Mexico. If you like bright colors and chaos, this exhibit is for you. Clearly, Hoskovec does a lot of traveling; his mnartists.org photos include shots from Minneapolis, Mexico, Croatia, and Peru. And the man has an eye for composition.

7-9 p.m., Boiler Room, 1820 3rd Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-872-1220; free.

MUSIC
In Case It Must Be So

For those insisting on live music this evening, here are a few options: Booker T & the MGs will be playing tonight and tomorrow night at the Dakota. The Sleeping will perform at 5 p.m. at the Varsity Theater. And you can Remix Da Runway at the Escape Ultra Lounge with Rich Boy, at 9 p.m.

RAKING THE WEB
FILM… or at least internet video

Check out the 8 entries for the latest Screenlabs video challenge. Then vote for your favorite (in the upper left).

Michael Moore Takes Aim at Racist Police Shootings

Be sure to check out Rake film critic Peter Schilling’s latest blog, The Bug, for more on film.

So it’s clear these are tough times, financially speaking. What with a recession looming, the Fed staying a grim course with interest rates, gas prices hovering in the $3 a gallon range, and housing values all over the country tanking like so many penny stocks — the future for middle-American homeowners is looking mighty cloudy.

Each of us deals with this in his own unique way.

Me? I’m reverting to my college days, lying on an air mattress on the bare wood floor of a 300-square-foot efficiency, enjoying the damp breeze from a wheezy, old window air conditioner, and drinking a glass of Château Bellevue Peycharneau 2004. OK, I guess I’m not reverting all the way. . . .

Last time I had a lease on an apartment like this one, I was 19 years old and prone to drinking wine coolers. But the rest — the solitude, the feeling of freedom, the inexpensive lifestyle — is the same.

You see, when my husband and I were married about a year ago, the plan was that we would sell his suburban townhome and then my tiny two-bedroom cottage near the city, so we could buy a house that would fit all our collective stuff plus my three adult-size teenage kids. Within weeks, news reports about the declining real estate market started to eke out. We lowered our expectations and put my husband’s house up for sale. Eight months and four price drops later, it sold. But by this time, we’d paid out more than $10,000 in mortgage and maintenance for a home no one was occupying and taken a loss against the principle he owed. There was no way we could start all over with my house.

Instead, we got creative. And that’s where the efficiency comes in. Living in less than 1,500 square feet and sharing a bathroom with three teenagers takes its toll. There was no place to work, to think, to kiss without someone popping around a corner and saying, “Eeeewwww, people live here.” So we took 1/4 of the money we were no longer spending to maintain two houses and rented ourselves a tiny little room with no view. An office for me, a place to have an occasional dinner for two, a getaway.

Anyway, back to that first night: the air mattress, the a/c, and the wine. It’s a funny one, this Bordeaux, with so much structure, it may be possible to pour it out and make shapes with it — like plaster of Paris. The nose is full of cherry but the flavor is far more austere: oak and tannins, just a hint of something sharp that isn’t quite anise (no matter what the bottle says) and the oddest taste of graphite. It’s like licking the tip of a #2 pencil, the taste of which sends me right back to fourth grade. . . .or rather, fourth grade if the Hiawatha School lunchroom had had one hell of a sommelier.

There’s an extra long finish on the Château Bellevue Peycharneau, as well. A finish so long it gives you time to think about the last time you lay on an air mattress in the middle of a tiny, darkening room. And I’m a woman who likes that suspension, senses swinging on a trapeze swing, ideas intruding that are not entirely my own.

This was a special-occasion wine for us, meaning it cost more than $15 — though every retailer I’ve checked sells it for less than $20. To the best of our recollection, we picked it up at Surdyk’s. And it’s worth noting that my husband was far less entranced than I. He loves thick, jammy, fruity Malbecs whereas I’m a sucker for willful wines that taste like things I never would have imagined, like wet cement or Cuban cigars or pencil lead.

So on our second trip to the tiny apartment, I was able to finish off the bottle myself, feeling as if I’d come full circle — shucking off the opulent dreams I’d had when I was 19, becoming downright grateful for 300 square feet of quiet and a really interesting wine.

So I was in the process of putting together a must do list for you. I was telling you the cars you want and the cars you don’t want for a reasonable price.* Then something happened.

I was, like, just told that the car chase in the new Bourne movie outdoes the old one. I have blogged in the past about the best car chase scenes in movie history. This “list” is commonly accepted and not open to discussion (its not my list, it is the pronouncement of the zeitgeist which in this case is fixed and immovable.)

(Looks like Matt ain’t sure neither)

I have not seen this movie but I am going to make an assumption (that I may regret) and it is this. I am going to assume that the new car chase is better than the last Bourne car chase but that it still not of the caliber of the top 4 (give or take) of all time. That would be, of course, Bullitt, French Connection, Ronin and a French movie called “The Chase.”

I am also told that the fight scene in this movie is peerless.

Better than the fight scenes in Raging Bull, I ask?

This is the trouble with people today. Since the passing of Pauline Kael, we have no luminaries to light the path to understanding– whether that the best punch in the face or hit to the happy pedal. Only in the movies that is. In real life, we have Maseratis. Including one at Sears that remains unsold.

(SPACE HERE. HAPPY FACES TO BREAK UP PAGE. WHEN I FIND THEM)

*Allright here is that highly shortened list. And forget what you don’t want. You already know don’t want a Pontiac G6 or Chevy Cobalt.

You want the Chrysler SRT-Series cars you in all price ranges except for the Crossfire. You will also want to modify your ride (and it is inexpensively done) You want no other Chryslers except the 300 Series.
You want the Honda Fit
You want the Mazdaspeed cars in all price ranges.
You want the Kia Spectra in 5-door, too.
And you even want the Suzuki Aerio.

SOCIAL
Everybody’s Doing It . . .

Whip up that special dish of yours. (Yes, Vienna sausage and saltines counts.) Tonight is probably the only day of the year when you’re guaranteed to find at least one potluck in the ten-block radius. More likely, you’ll find several. It’s
National Night Out, and neighborhoods across Minneapolis (and across the country, for that matter) will be hosting events to promote healthier, safer communities and strengthen police/community relations. The Mini Apple put itself on the map last year by holding more than 934 separate events over the course of three days; that’s an all-time national record for National Night Out. And more than 39,000 people took part, which means more than 10 percent of the city’s population stepped up and stepped out. This year, let’s make it 20.

See the schedule of events and locations.

BOOKS
Death of a Murderer, Life of a Masterpiece

For my money Rupert Thomson is one of the most adventurous and consistently dazzling writers working today. He’s also criminally underrated (and largely unknown) in the United States. His 1996 novel, The Insult, featured one of the great untrustworthy narrators in recent memory: a man, blinded by a bullet to the head, who suffers from a rare neurological condition that convinces him that he can still see. The result was a sort of surreal noir in which apparent delusions seemed very real and very spooky.

His latest work hits the bookstores today (so you might want to consider staying in tonight). Death of a Murderer features a policeman haunted by the ghost of a notorious serial murderer, and it’s already being hailed by British reviewers as Thomson’s masterpiece. — by Brad Zellar

MUSIC
Come on, Baby, Drive South

Well, the John Hiatt show at the Minnesota Zoo is sold out, damn it. The man writes one hell of a song, what I call real Americana — good old fashioned pop rock with a country blues backbone. Ain’t that what it’s all about, momma? Have a little faith, though; all is not lost. You still have one more chance to catch Bobby “Blue” Bland tonight, and that might be even better. As I said yesterday, this steamy bluesman literally put the rhythm in R&B.

8 p.m., Dakota Jazz Club & Restaurant, 1010 Nicollet, Minneapolis; 612-332-1010; show $50, dinner and show $90 — and worth every penny (if you’ve got it).

FILM
No Slop Song

Disney’s long-hidden classic Song of the South hasn’t been seen in theaters (or on DVD) since its theatrical rerelease in 1986. If you’ll recall, this is the simple tale of a white boy who goes to visit his grandma’s plantation in the post-Civil War South while his folks consider splitting up. There, he is watched over by the lovable Uncle Remus and a covey of annoying little songbirds singing “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah.” Part animated, part live action, arguably racist, and definitely patronizing, Song is filled with fabulous animation and crack storytelling — especially in the Tar Baby sequence. Disney’s suppression of the film raises myriad questions, not the least of which is the fact that the film’s African-American stars have, in the ensuing controversy, seen their hard work vanish from the cinematic landscape. — by Peter Schilling

Tonight’s Cinema Slop show at the Dinkytowner Café has been canceled, but you can now buy it.

RAKING THE NET
Fodder for the Explorer

Edit a fictional galaxy — stars, planets, moons — at Galaxiki.

Do you have a grocery store in your neighborhood? How about a park? A school? A bar? (There’s always a bar nearby.) Rate your home’s “walkability” at Walk Score. Mine got a 92 out of 100, but I tell you, I chose it precisely for that reason.

If you lack a sense of humor when it comes to religion, stay away from this hysterically amusing photo essay.

Back Off the Wagon

I’ve been having a little trouble with vices lately and thought I would share.

25 Ways to Quit
Do As Doc
Baby Got Style
Lucy Loves It
Fred, Baby
Stop Killing Yourself
After Dinner Mint