Category: Blog Post

  • Should Par Ridder Recuse Himself?

    It came as no surprise that the Star Tribune’s new ownership, Avista Capital Partners, dismissed a call from its Guild for an independent investigation into the rather serious charges asserted against publisher, Par Ridder. The presumption is that it did do knowing full well that the legal process is both glacial and unlikely to produce the kind of cleansing transparency appropriate for a high-profile business allegedly committed to reporting fully and fairly.

    The Guild’s request was as appropriate as it was entirely futile. Both the Guild’s orginal letter and Harte’s response can be read here.

    Publicly-traded companies regularly dodge initial calls for thorough, independent investigations into appearances of executive impropriety. So there was almost zero reason to think a privately-held concern like Avista would consent to something that holds the prospect of way too much transparency … perhaps even into such intriguing questions as, “Who really IS Avista?”

    But even in an era when boardroom arrogance seems to know no bounds, it is discouraging that Chris Harte, Avista’s “journalism face”, doesn’t see the merit in an aggressive, public display of probity. The machinations of Avista are one kind of distraction, the pulpy travails of Par Ridder are another thing entirely, and allowing the legal process to run its course means a constant trickle of mocking and titter-worthy bombshell-ettes, none of which does anything to enhance the integrity of these cities’ major media player.

    I asked Star Trib Guild officers, Pat Doyle and Chris Serres, if they had given any thought to suggesting that in lieu of a full, complete and open independent investigation, Ridder should at the very least be asked to recuse himself from his publisher duties … until the legal process has run its course? That would do something to mute skeptics and critics who will otherwise snicker at the appearance of a righteous news organization, committed to fairness, being managed by a guy accused of both petty thievery and clumsy conniving.

    First though, the matter of their letter to Harte.

    Said Doyle, “We thought the request was reasonable, no matter what the odds,” then adding, “but Harte’s response was not very satisfying, no.”

    “What I also found interesting, [in Harte’s response], was that he didn’t make any defense or endorsement of Par. I don’t know what that means, but I thought it was interesting.” (Ironically interesting coming in the same week as George Bush offering a vigorous, unconditional endorsement of Alberto Gonzales).

    Serres also thought the request was worth making, and insisted it wasn’t purely symbolic. A big part of the basic problem with current interaction between the Guild and management is, as he says, “Quite frankly, we don’t know who Chris Harte is.”

    Or, as Doyle puts it, “There’s just so much we don’t know. Such as, who are we owned by? We don’t know if its 10 guys, 20 guys or 100 guys.”

    While neither sees the twin distractions of a new, very private ownership group with an undisclosed agenda and a publisher under public ridicule as being all that much of a detriment to their daily job performance, neither issue is exactly an asset.

    “This is getting to the point where our sources are asking about it,” says Serres of the Ridder matter. Hence the call for the kind of air-clearing an independent investigation might bring. “What did Harte say in his response, that our call somehow presumes the legal system is ‘flawed’? Well, yes. Our presumption is that the legal system IS flawed. It is both slow and most likely won’t be comprehensive enough.”

    So what about asking for Ridder to step aside until the Avista-preferred legal process reaches a conclusion?

    “That’s an interesting idea,” said Doyle.

    Serres takes pains to emphasize that, “There is a tone of negativity over here that can be very counterproductive, and the Guild wants to avoid making matters like this with Par personal. We always try to avoid that in our dealings with management. Our letter to Harte, asking for an investigation, should not be seen as us making a swipe at Par. I mean, we don’t even know this guy. But there’s no denying this is a distraction we don’t need.”

    Serres adds, a bit cryptically, “Part of the reason you don’t get personal in situations like this is that you have a sense that there are bigger people behind the scenes pulling strings, and that the people out front may just be these pawns in a larger action.”

  • This Week's Take-Out Flicks

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    Jane Eyre, 1944

    My wife likes costume dramas; I’m a fan of Orson Welles. Our interests meet this week with the DVD release of Jane Eyre. If you ask the both of us, Welles is ideal as Mr. Rochester. The big boy’s histrionics perfectly suit that literary madman (and over the years Rochester’s never been cast right–William Hurt was probably the most egregious example). According to the wife, who’s seen the movie on an old library video tape, this Eyre rules the lot.

    Supposedly Welles kept barking at director Robert Stevenson about the latter’s inability to do anything more than pedantic work. As is often the case in a film that Orson starred in, Jane Eyre shows his influence. Stevenson went on to become one of the more prolific Disney directors, making Mary Poppins, Flubber,, That Darn Cat!, and The Love Bug, among many others.


    Naked You Die

    Grindhouse films are on their way, despite the fact that that superior film was a big, fat flop (though it didn’t cost much, so maybe it’ll recoup overseas). This week sees the release of Naked You Die, which looks like one of the spoof trailers, especially Don’t!. Available at Netflix.

    Also: I wrote in the magazine that Tears of the Black Tiger is “a film that moves with the force of a hurricane blasting apart a great marzipan city”. I stand by that bizarre sentence, but I will say that you’re going to lose a lot on the small screen… The Queen won Helen Mirren the Oscar, and it was long overdue. But she didn’t give us the best performance of the year, being met halfway by a public figure. Mimicry isn’t as powerful as an original performance (I would have handed the gold to Penelope Cruz in Volver). Add to that the fact that The Queen, though often deftly directed, panders to the cult of Tony Blair, and doesn’t have much of a sense of humor. Maybe my loathing of royalty is getting in the way… Al Franken: God Spoke is a lousy, unfunny, grating documentary/advertisement that only makes a strong, strong case that Al should not, under any circumstances, be the Dems nominee for Senate next year.

  • Eyeballs on Everyone

    Last weekend, I stopped by a certain tax accountant‘s office/art gallery to soak up the scenes. Among them:

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    The Gap has really foisted this hoodie-and-tie trend upon us, which I don’t entirely dislike. It’s sort of like an updated version of the tie-with-tweed look, since it, too, is worn mostly by brooding wimpster types. (Don’t get me wrong … I find it all very sexy.) This fella took the look to an extreme with his print hoodie, whereas other guys at this party chose tattered hoodies in boring, old solid blacks and grays.

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    I was reminded of how much I appreciate the metrosexual movement, at least when it comes to inspiring the use of styling products. Thank goodness for men with pretty hair.

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    I liked the contrast here. Jahna, a professional stylist, paired the sophistication of a high-waisted skirt with a simple yellow (it looks like vintage) top, whereas her friend rocked a bad-ass rocker babe motorcycle jacket. Nice!

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    The camera loves this woman! And my friend Kevin once had a stranger crush on her, too.

  • Alien Indeed

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    where can a brother get some ribs?

    Sunday ended up with a rainy jaunt to the Albertville Outlets. With four kids to clothe in cargo shorts and ridiculously expensive paper-thin tees, I need all the break I can get, so northward we trip.

    I’m not a crowd-shopper, I reach my patience limit quickly. Needless to say, having been just a touch hung over from the Fri./Sat. night activities, my fuse might have been even shorter. So, as we finished our rounds and the nuggets complained of hunger, it was all about turning into the first parking lot.

    That lot turned out to be Space Aliens Grill & Bar. I know.

    Yes, it’s everything you think: brightly painted with planets, cheesy black light “magic” on the ceiling, spacey movie posters all around, an alien diorama on every flat surface, and an arcade. It’s brilliant.

    The kids were WOWED and we laughed as we named all the little dudes and the movies in which they lived. They ran off and spent a little cash and more energy in the arcade playing various things and winning tickets redeemable for prizes. There were ten whole minutes when no one asked me a question.

    But most importantly, the food didn’t suck. In fact, it was good.

    Now, let’s remember context: I wasn’t looking for any butter-poached lobster or a truffled cheesebuger. Hell, I would have been happy with a Diet Coke for lunch at that point.

    Instead, I ordered Martian Munchies, which despite the lame name, are a great idea: seasoned and slowly smoked strips of pork which come to the table like curled little fingers. They are crispy to the bite while remaining tender on the inside, and are snacky addictive.

    Their BBQ is a big feature for the menu, and at every chance they’ll tout their award for America’s Best Ribs from the National BBQ Convention Cook-off in Memphis. Looking around almost every adult was eating ribs.

    Kids were happy with chicken fingers, burgers, “fire-roasted” pizza (I just hate that term, roasted pizza, it’s just not right) and the like. But it was the fries that killed them: an order of the Outer Space Fries is served in a cone-shaped holder with choice of two dipping sauces. Not just ketchup mind you, there’s ranch dressing, nacho cheese, buffalo wing suace, taco sauce, sweet & sour and more to choose from.

    Sure it’s schticky and gimmicky, the menu has a few too many trademarked silly names (Cosmic Coleslaw TM), but at least they’re actually putting some thought into the food. Apparently there’s one about to open in Blaine, and rumors of another opening somewhere in the Western Metro in the near future. I have a feeling the invasion will be successful….

  • Ugly And Slouchy

    Ok, that was brutal. And long.

    Jesse Crain may have taken the loss –and he was awful– but you can pin this one on the offense.

    Here’s the ugliest fine print from the boxscore, and the best indication of the difference between the the two teams in terms of hitting approach: Minnesota pitchers threw 236 pitches; Cleveland’s threw 141. Time and again the Indians had long, tough at bats, fouling off pitches and working deep counts. The Twins, meanwhile, were just hacking away, provoking unpleasant flashbacks of 2005.

    Though I still don’t think the Indians have done enough to shore up their bullpen, you sure wouldn’t know it from last night’s game.

  • These Things I Believed

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    Am I too old to see the fairies dance?

    I cannot find them anymore.

    –Langston Hughes, from “After Many Springs”

    That the light would last forever.

    That a silent abracadabra was the appropriate blessing to be conferred on even the grayest new morning.

    That a dog was both a lantern and a life preserver.

    That a man could escape from the belly of a whale, even without the help of a dog, a lantern, or a life preserver.

    That John Wayne wore his pants pulled up too far for my taste.

    That a good baseball mitt was as beautiful an object of pure design as anything ever produced by an Italian.

    That baseball was one of the few things in America that made perfect sense.

    That a dream deferred accrued interest.

    That a goat was a more worthy subject for a tale than a donkey.

    That a starving man could live on laughter and conversation.

    That a green chair was enchanted.

    That Nick Lowe was the most underrated artist in all of rock.

    That Roddy Frame was a close second.

    That there was always a fish at the other end of the line.

    That there was a bobber at the bottom of my throat.

    That a man could be the ringmaster, walk the high wire, and both be and tame the lion.

    That oblivion was a worthwhile destination.

    That hamburgers could be grown in a garden.

    That beetles were among the planet’s most spectacular creations.

    That impostors almost always wear the crown.

    That the spirit of the living creatures was in the wheels

    That a year in the attendant’s booth of a parking ramp provided a better and more sensible education than Plato’s Academy.

    That a heart could not live by breaking.

    That desire could cripple a man.

    That soup was the perfect food.

    That a fingerprint doesn’t prove a fucking thing.

    That Wayne Shorter was the most underrated artist in all of jazz.

    That Freddie Hubbard was a close second.

    That questions had answers.

    That one could persist in asking questions, and survive the answers.

    That all the moral blather in the world could be boiled down to two words: be careful.

    That Sweet’s Desolation Boulevard was a more consistently entertaining record than anything released in 2006.

    That a meager body and feeble hands could save a life, could cradle a heart and keep it safe, and could communicate things the mind and mouth could never find the words to say.

    That a heretic could speak the truth.

    That a parrot could –and should– be taught to recite poetry.

    That Funny Bones was one of the top ten movies ever made.

    That a man’s soul could survive the wrecking ball.

    That if you taught a woman to dance you could kiss her goodbye.

    That on a dark night and the right road, Little Willie John could tear out your spleen.

    That George Herriman’s Krazy Kat was as inspired as anything in literature.

    That the Gilligan’s Island musical Hamlet was better than Hamlet.

    That a closet full of suede Pumas was the mark of a stylish man.

    That you should never stop expecting people to surprise you.

    That all the big, ridiculous things were possible, were tangible, were true.

    That there was magic in human hands.

    That some form of magic was always at hand.

    That this was a world without end.

    I was right about some of those things, maybe even most of them.

    Go ahead and tell me I wasn’t and see where it’ll get you.

  • Everything's Political — Even Lipstick

    MUSIC
    Brooklyn-based Afrobeat and Cuban Krudas

    Antibalas.jpgThere’s no doubt about it; the must-see performance of the evening is Antibalas — though I must say that I’m looking forward to seeing the opening act — Las Krudas — more than the main show. Two black lesbian sisters and a white lesbian singing about female liberation — it’s like a big, bad, beautiful joke that you just have to keep repeating. Who says you can’t be gay in Cuba? In truth, both groups are awesome. If you like Afro-beat, jazz, hip-hop, or funk — even a little — you won’t want to miss this. Antibalas puts on quite the show. “The multilayered, polyrhythmic funk of Fela Kuti is the core inspiration for this Brooklyn-based Afrobeat collective. Like Kuti, they also pair rise-up political lyrics with a disobedient beat that refuses to lie down.”

    8 p.m., First Avenue, 701 First Avenue N, Minneapolis; 612-332-1775; $15.

    Listen to Antibalas.
    Listen to Las Krudas.

    ART
    Near Infrared Spectrum

    Tracy2.jpgI don’t usually go for cafe art — as if it even comprises a categorical genre– but if you haven’t seen Tracy Anderson’s Infraspective exhibit at Tillie’s Bean, you might just want to swing by tonight for a cup-a-joe and an eyeful. You have just four days left to catch this digital photography in the near-infrared spectrum exhibit. Anderson, a scientist specializing in the fields of microscopy and digital imaging at the University of Minnesota, aims to showcase the beauty of the “unseen” world through experimental photography. It makes for some interesting images.

    6 a.m. – 9 p.m., Tillie’s Bean, 2803 E 38th St, Minneapolis; 612-276-0100.

    DISCUSSION
    How Should Media Cover High-Profile Crimes?

    Dru98.jpgIt’s National Ethics in Journalism Week. Did you have any idea? Maybe it’s just not in the media’s best interest to tell you about it, eh? Maybe they don’t want you to question their ethics. I, however, do — so listen up. This year’s Ethics Week is about minimizing harm, and tonight’s forum is titled, “When Tragedy Strikes, What is the Media’s Role?” Panelists include Amy Forliti, of the Associated Press – Minneapolis; Molly Miron of the Bemidji Pioneer; Nancy Sabin, executive director of the Jacob Wetterling Foundation; Sue Turner of WCCO-TV; and Linda Walker, mother of the late Dru Sjodin — the University of North Dakota student murdered in 2003. Stop by to explore how media covers high-profile criminal incidents, and what kind of impact this coverage has on victims and their families.

    7 p.m., McNamara Alumni Center, University of Minnesota, 200 Oak St SE, Minneapolis; 612-624-7583; free.

    THEATER AND PERFORMANCE
    White Lipstick and Segregation

    Hair2.jpgIf you’re looking for something a bit less “ethical” and upright, but with the right political twist, go catch the opening night of Hairspray. Go back to 1962 and watch Tracy Turnblad prove that big girls with big hair and big hearts can fulfill big dreams. I have to admit, I’m a huge fan of the John Waters version, and you just never know how that’s going to translate to a Broadway musical; but it did win eight Tony Awards in 2003, so it can’t be all bad. Besides, in this case the chicken definitely came before the egg — whatever that means.

    7:30 p.m., The Orpheum Theatre, 910 Hennepin Ave, Minneapolis; 612-373-5600; $22-$67.

  • Andrew Zimmern to FM 107

    As of June 4, the ubiquitous Andrew Zimmern will settle into a regular weekday gig at Hubbard Broadcasting’s FM 107. Zimmern will take the 1 to 3 pm slot, with The Satellite Sisters cut back an hour, 11 to 1, and Kevyn Burger also losing one hour, 9 to 11 am.

    GM Dan Seeman concedes that Zimmern’s 10-12 weeks-a-year travel schedule will require a stable of regular contributors.

    Zimmern is currently doing a Saturday morning show for KTLK-FM.

  • Michele's Looking Out for Us, Again

    This from the St. Cloud Times about our gal Michele being one of seven Republican House members to vote against a bill that would require the IRS to notify tax payers if there was evidence their identity had been stolen.

    Why the hell would anyone vote against that?

    But then I read down a bit more in the story: “The bill also would require the IRS to notify low-income workers that they qualify for a tax break known as the Earned Income Tax Credit.”

    That, undoubtedly, is the rub. Michele can’t in good conscience vote for any measure that might limit the amount of tax that can be collected from the very people who are rightfully burdened already: the poor who benefit from the EITC.

    Thank God Michele is on the job. Otherwise those poor folks who have to worry about the onerous 15 percent capital gains tax might have to pick up the slack.

  • Dome Again, And Facing Yet Another Left Hander

    The Twins thus far vs. right handers: .304 BA, .375 OBP, .451 SLG.

    And vs. southpaws: .240, .274, .343.

    That last number isn’t much helped by the fact that two of the Twins’ right-handed power guys, Michael Cuddyer and Torii Hunter, are hitting .207 and .208, respectively, against lefties.

    The real problem for Minnesota at the moment is that the guys who are scoring and driving in most of the runs are bunched up in the middle of the order. In almost every respect the piranhas have been a bust, particularly when it comes to getting on base.

    If Joe Mauer is determined to be the sort of hitter that wins batting titles it might be time to move him into the lead-off spot. Seriously. The guy has a .473 OBP, is three for three in stolen base attempts, and is now twenty-five out of twenty-nine for his career. I say move him up, and bat Morneau third, Cuddyer fourth, and Hunter fifth. Morneau is now the only regular on the team with more walks than strikeouts, and if you bat him third you get him a first-inning at-bat every night.