Category: Blog Post

  • Hamlet 2

    For many
    people the very idea of a sequel to Hamlet is preposterous.
    But if Shakespeare
    fans want to see a good tragedy, they should check out the last act of Hamlet
    2
    .
    A truly funny slapstick film for the first hour, the tragedy of Hamlet
    2
    is
    that it turns away from its comedic prowess in favor of an ending with
    an
    inspirational message–the same dramatic device that the film is
    parodying.

    Dana
    Marschz (Steve Coogan) goes by the motto, "acting is life."
    Unfortunately, his acting and his life are pitiful. A failed Hollywood
    actor, Marschz
    has settled down with his wife Brie (Catherine Keener) in Tuscon, Arizona,
    where he teaches drama at a high school for next to nothing. His
    desires to
    save the school’s pathetic drama program, and his career, rest in the
    hands of
    reluctant students whose participation is due to cancellation of other
    school
    activities.

    Like the
    inspirational movies that Marschz has been attempting to bring to the
    school’s
    stage, he tries to make lemonade out of lemons. He decides to write an
    original
    play for his students to perform in hopes of raising the six thousand
    dollars
    necessary to save the program. When word gets out that the play is a
    sequel to Hamlet
    with questionable content relating to sexuality and religion, the
    school principal
    shuts down the production. In spite of his obvious ineptitude,
    Marschz’s
    dedication has inspired his students to go to great lengths to put on
    the play
    amidst public outcry.

    The driving
    force behind Hamlet 2 is Coogan’s masterful performance as
    Marschz. He lampoons
    the "keep your head held high" mindset of the drama teacher
    perfectly. His commitment to the character is akin to Will Ferrell’s as
    Ron
    Burgundy in Anchorman. The one-liners and sight gags that he
    brings to the
    screen spawned numerous laugh-out-loud moments.

    While Hamlet
    2
    does a great job of parodying the schmaltzy inspirational teacher
    story line
    found in movies like Mr. Holland’s Opus and Dangerous Minds,
    the film abandons its
    irreverent satire in favor of an inspirational ending. Marschz’s
    downfall and
    inspired resurrection is a drastic departure from the rest of the
    film’s
    tongue-in-cheek humor.

    The parody worked extremely well for the first two-thirds of the film,
    but left
    no room for the character development necessary for an audience to care
    if the
    students are inspired by their teacher. By the time Marschz hits bottom
    and the
    students rally around their teacher, all the audience cares about is
    the punch
    line…and they are left hanging.

    A bizarre, over-the-top ending, ala Ron Burgundy giving up his chance
    at a
    comeback to leap into the grizzly bear pit at the San Diego Zoo and save Veronica Corningstone, would
    have better
    suited the movie’s satirical strength.

    In
    Marschz’s pivotal moment of clarity he realizes that he has truly
    inspired his
    students and declares that his life is a "parody of a tragedy." The
    tragedy of Hamlet 2 is that the film didn’t stick to the parody.

  • Step Right Up: Free Stuff at The State Fair!



    STATE FAIR TIP OF THE DAY

    The Education Building aka "The Free Building"



    I love free stuff. Even free stuff that sucks. I will happily snap up that pencil with a dentist’s website printed on the side of it, or any kitten/bald eagle/generic landscape calendar
    that comes into my hemisphere. I think free food tastes better than
    food you pay for, and free booze makes me a happier drunk. I liken the
    State Fair to shopping at Target – you never leave without spending at
    least $50. However, there is a place on the State
    Fair estate where free stuff abounds. Upon entering through the
    main gates via Snelling Avenue, just to your right is what I call "the
    free building," a mecca of really boring educational crap
    that no one really cares about, that just so happens to be chocked full
    of booths handing out free pointless do-dads such as magnets, pens,
    and, last time I checked, condoms. Now, you may say, "Who cares? I
    steal pens from work," but that’s not the point. The point is, free
    stuff is free stuff, so you might as well take advantage of it. Not to mention, those
    "Read a Book a Day" magnets can be easily covered with origami paper or
    bedazzled to make cool adornments for your fridge!



    Disclaimer: j/k education, we all know you’re important!

    Bonus: Stop by the MPR booth between Noon-2pm today to check out my zany thespian pal Dylan Fresco (who also has the best eyebrows in the Twin Cities) and knife-juggling chair-aerialist David Harris as they perform a two-man Vaudville extravaganza.

    9am-9pm, Education Building, Between the Creative Annex and Arts Building, State Fair Grounds

    THEATER

    Up Up and Away



    You’ve only got two days to see this very special production at the Pillsbury House Theater, so step to it! The Chicago Avenue Project
    gives inner-city kids a hands-on theater experience, bringing together
    professional adult playwrights, actors and directors with neighborhood
    youth to create and produce an original theater piece. Up Up and Away
    is a collection of short plays conceived and performed by young
    participants in this amazing program. Make an evening of it with a
    casual post-show dinner at Matt’s Bar with a couple of their infamous juicy lucys and a pitcher of beer – just
    a hop, skip and a jump from the theater. Play runs August 25th-26th.



    7pm, Pillsbury House Theater, 3501 Chicago Avenue South, Minneapolis, Free





    MUSIC

    Becky Thompson & Old School



    Get your old-timey country western swing on at Lee’s Liqour Lounge
    tonight! Anyone who’s a dive bar connoisseur
    appreciates the classic roadhouse-esque feel to Lee’s as well as its
    charismatic patrons – and tonight’s entertainment does perfect justice
    to the venue’s legacy. Becky Thompson & Old School
    revive whiskey-soaked background noise and nostalgia with their classic
    country sound. Thompson’s sweet drawl cements the charm of this
    talented six-piece ensemble from, of all places, Burnsville. Kick back,
    sip some brown liquor, grab your lady by the waist and swing her around, because with music like this it only seems natural. Mondays are "Classic Country Night" at Lee’s, so don’t get tears in your beer if you can’t make it, there’s always next time!



    8:15pm, Lee’s Liquor Lounge ,101 Glenwood Avenue, Minneapolis, Free

  • The Citidiot

    My friend Nick and I strolled into the Looney Bean coffee shop in the tiny northern town of Crosby, Minnesota. We were grabbing some morning coffee and inquiring about the town’s upcoming community festival that we thought was called "Crosby Days." It was taking place that weekend and it sounded like a fun thing to do with our families.

    "Where do we go for the Crosby Days celebration?" Nick asked a Looney Bean employee.

    "It’s…called…Heritage Days," the teenage boy replied snidely.

    Then the kid frothed Nick’s mocha with an extra shot of bitterness. All we wanted were some details on the event and some coffee. But since we were stupid tourists, we inadvertently insulted the local kid’s civic pride by calling his town’s festival by the wrong name. When we left the shop and walked down good ol’ Main Street, Nick popped off the coffee cup lid just to make sure there wasn’t a fistful of toenails in his coffee.

    "Do you know what we are?" Nick asked me, as he clutched his beloved morning mocha.

    "Nope," I replied.

    "We’re Citidiots," he said. "City. Idiots."

    Nick had a great point. During the summer months all across the country, there is a mass exodus of city dwellers that descend onto quaint small towns, picturesque beaches, and pristine wilderness. We migrate to places like Cape Cod, The Hamptons, and National Parks, trying to get a little rest and relaxation. But mainly, our vacations just irritate the hell out of the local folks. We arrive clueless and slap happy, completely forgetting that people actually live in these sunny locales.

    In Minnesota, we head up north. Memorial Day to Labor Day is cabin season. From Nisswa to Ely to Grand Marais, we flock to resorts and lake shores, bringing with us the baggage from our sad silly Twin Cities lives. Citidiots (like Nick and I) treat every vacation destination with ignorant bliss. As we drove away from the Looney Bean in shame, we passed no fewer than fourteen massive signs hailing the upcoming "Heritage Days."

    That afternoon, we Citidiots went four wheeling. I climbed on top of a brand new Honda ATV that had a serious engine and mean looking tires.

    "That beast is a man’s ATV!" Nick said all pumped up.

    I should’ve been psyched. I should’ve been stoked to ride such a kick ass ATV through the beautiful north woods. But I wasn’t. I kept thinking that a real man should be driving this thing and not me. A real grizzled man who wore flannel, had chewing tobacco crammed into his lip, and shouted things like, "America! Hell Yeah!" For crying out loud, I’ve seen every episode of "Project Runway." And I loved every minute of it.

    I manned up, though. We plopped our four year old sons into our laps on our respective ATVs and took off down a heavily wooded path. I drove cautiously through a huge grove of ferns and White Pine trees, careful not to tread on something I wasn’t supposed to. I lolly gagged across several miles until my son finally had enough of my slow foot.

    "Bring it on!" Murphy snapped at me. Apparently, I wasn’t driving Miss Daisy. My kid wanted speed, so I tentatively opened the throttle. We tore through the woods and shot out into a clearing that was filled with wild flowers, a blueberry sky, and a herd of deer. It was a magical ride, a true father and son moment.

    Sadly, though, my Citidiot tendencies took over. Back in the thick woods, I tried to single a turn. When we returned to our cabin, I caught myself trying to parallel park the ATV in the open spot closest to the front door. Nick stood there laughing.

    "Do you want me to get the valet?" he asked.

    To complete the Citidiot Trifecta, the next day we tried to take the boys fishing. And as usual, it was a complete disaster. We had a boat but no boat license. We had a motor but no gas. We had boat cushions but no life jackets. We had fishing rods but no bait. The two boys stood on the shore, dumbfounded by our incompetence. I made an unfortunate decision to just go ahead and fish off the dock. That lasted about two minutes before the kids realized it was a total suckfest. The boys shrugged their shoulders, set down their rods, and went off and found their own fun.

    "Well, at least we tried," I said in defeat. And once again, a perfectly beautiful Minnesota summer day was ruined by a pair of Citidiots.

  • The Black Mamba Finally Gets His Moment

    Well, now we know the reason behind Kobe Bryant’s curiously fitful and misguided play during the first seven games of the Olympic tournament: An absence of pressure. Nearly universally (and accurately) regarded as the best clutch shooter in the game today, Kobe’s commanding crunchtime aplomb was a superfluous virtue as the USA men ran roughshod over the best the rest of the world had to offer. The average margin of victory had been well over 20 points per game, boosted by a 37-point pasting of Spain in their previous matchup just last week.

    But with 8:13 to play in the final period of the Gold Medal Game in the wee Sunday morning hours here in the States, the Spainards flash-flooded the notion of Everything To Lose in the minds of the so-called Redeem Team with a 7-0 run that had them down by a bucket, 91-89. Although nearly every player on the USA roster was "The Man" for their respective ballclubs in similar situations back home, this was alien pressure, both for its novelty in this tournament and the enormous stakes involved. If there was one performer whose entire alpha persona thrived on such moments it was Kobe, the self-described Black Mamba, who could simultaneously poison the hopes and suffocate the competitive fire of his opponents. He didn’t disappoint; indeed, it was obviously the moment for which he had been impatiently waiting.

    As the somewhat rattled USA squad came back on to the court after a timeout, Kobe had up to that point lodged a fairly typical Olympic game for his tournament: He was shooting just 3-9 from the field, owing in part to his inaccuracy from long range–he had clanked four of his five shots from beyond the arc. He had yet to go to the foul line.

    No matter. The next 2:11–131 seconds–belonged to Kobe, and decided this tournament. First he nailed a two-pointer to halt Spain’s run and give the USA some crucial breathing space. Next time down the court, he drew the defenders toward him and fed Deron Williams for a trey; the possession after that he penetrated and dished to Dwight Howard for a slam. At the other end, he and his teammates had harrassed hot shooter Rudy Fernandez into three straight misses, that would be broken when Fernandez sank a trey after an offensive rebound of his last misfire. Kobe answered that with a three-pointer of his own. Bang. Just like that it was 101-92 with 6:02 to play–enough room for Kobe’s teammates to relax into their own prodigiously talented games.

    Comparisons to Michael Jordan have become hackneyed, not to mention unfair, for NBA players over the past decade–it is like anointing a singer-songwriter the next Dylan or a reggae artist the next Marley. But there is one trait Kobe possesses that involuntarily brings up memories of MJ–an almost maniacal need to be the straw that stirs the drink when the game is on the line. There are other sublime clutch shooters–Manu Ginobili comes to mind. But Ginobili–or Robert Horry, or even LeBron James–won’t engage in a bloodthirsty fight to seize the right to be either hero or goat. (Yes, I know there have been times when Kobe has "disappeared" in big games. But even then, it seemed as if he was ostentatiously proving a point about his value to the team by withdrawing his aggression. Thankfully those days seem to be over.)

    To its credit, Spain wouldn’t give up, clawing to within 5, at 104-99, with 3:34 to play. Twenty-two seconds later, Kobe thrust in the first dagger, sinking another three-pointer while simultaneously drawing the disqualifying foul on Fernandez, Spain’s leading scorer with 22 points in 18 minutes. Although the 4 point play built the lead back to 8, Spain was again within 4 with 2:08 to go when Dwyane Wade canned a trey, for the second dagger into the reeling bull. After a Juan Carlos Navarro free throw, Kobe provided the third and fatal blow, a layup that pushed the lead back to 8 with 72 seconds left. A pair of meaningless free throws gave Kobe 13 points in the final 8:13, along with those two huge assists–one outside to D-Will, the other inside to Howard.

    The best player of this Olympics for the USA was clearly LeBron, who did everything as a Superglue guy. LeBron’s foul trouble early in the game created a horrible defensive tone for USA, because, as commentator Doug Collins (who had an excellent Olympics himself) pointed out, the weakside help on the Spanish bigs simply wasn’t large or fast enough to deter them the way only LeBron could. Down the stretch, LeBron played with four fouls while battling the water buffalo Marc Gasol for position in the paint. This was far from his best game, but when you gleaned the stat sheet, there he was, with 14 points on 6-9 FG (2-3 3pt, 0-2 FT), 6 rebounds (second to Chris Bosh’s 7), and three apiece in assists, steals and turnovers. Looking back on their rookie years, does anyone else recall how much Charles Barkley and others were touting LeBron and Melo Anthony as equals?

    It’s been said before by many others, but the biggest surprise of this tournament for the USA was how big Chris Bosh played underneath, without losing his ability to show hard toward the perimeter on pick and rolls. Bosh’s court intelligence was especially impressive: More than any of his teammates he seemed to adapt and thrive in the international game. Maybe practicing all year with Spainards Jose Calderon and Juan Carlos Navarro [correction: Calderon and Argentinian Carlos Delfino; Navarro was in Memphis] in Toronto with the Raptors had an effect. The other pleasant surprise was the rejuvenation of Dwyane Wade, who led all scorers in the Gold Medal Game with 27, and was invaluable in maintaining the USA lead when both LeBron and Kobe were shelved with foul trouble. Wade also typified the USA’s ball-hawking, transition-oriented style, and was one of the precious few able to maintain that rhythm against Spain, with 4 steals. Anyone who loves the aesthetic pleasure of NBA athletes is thrilled to see him back in vintage form. I would place him second only to LeBron in overall effectiveness for these Olympics.

    While Chris Paul was money from the free throw line, did anyone else think the pressure got to him a bit today? Both Argentina and Spain deployed their zones on Paul as much as on Jason Kidd, inviting both to shoot. Kidd’s questionably accuracy made the strategy unsurprising, but the international three-point line is well within Paul’s range. While Paul wanted the ball in his hands when free throws would ice the game, he looked far less self-assured in those second-half moments when Spain was within a possession or two of the lead. And Paul’s defense was shoddy in the Gold Medal Game.

    On the other side of the ball, as good as Pau Gasol was, with 21 points on 9-18 FG, six rebounds and just one turnover, did anyone else hope it was up to him to put Spain over the top at crunchtime. Between Gasol and Lamar Odom, Laker fans better hope that Andrew Bynum has been sufficiently toughened by Kobe criticism to emerge as a legit crunchtime sidekick, or there could be volcanic emotional displays in the playoffs ahead.

    Felipe Reyes is a mucker supreme, an absolutely invaluable commodity on the basketball court–I’m surprised the Spurs haven’t heavily pursued him, although I hear he makes a boatload of money in the Euro league. But the teenage point guard, Ricky Rubio, is going to be an NBA starter within the next three years. His entire game screams NBA, and after a shaky first tilt versus the USA, his play today, especially his on-ball defense, was much improved.

    Bottom line, these Olympics were a great diversion for hoops fans waiting on the opening of NBA training camps. And the opening of the regular season is less than ten weeks away.

  • Italiani's Family Restaurant Grill & Bar

    I got a hot tip recently – a sighting of a pasta making
    machine at Italiani’s Family Restaurant Grill & Bar, 3508 E. Lake Street.
    That’s pretty rare these days – making pasta by hand is very labor intensive.

    Back when I lived in the neighborhood, the place was known as the Lake Street
    Garage, and served up malts, burgers, pasta and pizza. I hadn’t set foot inside in years, but when I visited
    the other night, it looked pretty much the way I remembered it, except that
    some pictures of Ecuador have been added to the basic malt shop décor. (It
    turns out that the new owner is a native of Ecuador, who worked at Gianni’s
    Steakhouse in Wayzata and Lord Fletcher’s on Lake Minnetonka before opening his
    own place.)

    Italiani interior

    The menu still offers burgers, malts, shakes, pizza and
    pasta, but the new owners have added a few more ambitious daily specials, like
    a seafood pasta and a walleye entree. There are no Ecuadorian dishes on the menu,
    but the owner told me that they occasionally feature Chaulafan (Ecuadorian-Chinese
    fried rice) and Churrasco (steak with fried egg, avocado and plantains) as evening specials. The appetizer
    list is mostly State Fair stuff – onion rings, corn dogs, mozzarella sticks. We
    opted for the buffalo chicken wings (about a dozen for $6.95) -which were quite
    good – crisp skin, moist meat, and just the right level of spice.

    fettucine with sausageI didn’t see any pasta machines, but I was assured that the
    fettucine really is made from scratch. It’s offered on the menu as fettucine
    Alfredo, available with chicken, shrimp or broccoli, but the owner said I could have
    it with any pasta I chose. I opted for the pasta with Italian sausage and
    Bolognese sauce, ($9.75) which was served with feta, in a meaty tomato sauce, accented
    with feta. A very tasty dish, and much more satisfying than the usual Italian-American red sauce fare.

    The nightly seafood pasta special ($15.50) didn’t quite live up to its
    billing – the menu promised linguine shrimp, scallops and calamari, but we got
    shrimp, bay scallops and imitation crab instead – but there were no complaints about the flavor. There are other dishes I would like to sample on a return
    visit – the ribeye with home-cut fries ($13.65) and maybe one of the pizzas,
    like the spinaci speciale, topped with spinach, parmesan, bacon, sun-dried
    tomatoes, smoked cheddar and mozzarella ($14.50/ $17.50).

    Italiani’s offers a limited, but decent, list of wines and beers. On Sundays, they offer an all-day brunch, served from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m.

    Italiani’s Family Restaurant, Grill & Bar, 3508 E. Lake St., Minneapolis, 612-729-8820

  • 40 Minutes from Gold

    Perhaps it’s because I’m so NBA-centric and the Olympic team from Argentina has so many quality NBA pros on its roster (Gibobili, Scola, Nocioni, Oberto), but I always thought today’s semifinal would be USA’s toughest game of the tournament. And it probably was. After racing out to a huge lead that was 30-9 with six seconds left in the first quarter, Kobe Bryant and company were suckered by a zone, started clanking from three-point territory, and were a bad call away from leading by just six, after one half. (The whistle on Melo Anthony’s trey–giving him three successful FTs just before the half, was questionable at best, and meant as much to the psychological flow of the game as Deron Williams’s half-concluding trey did versus Australia on Wednesday.)

    But two folks I’ve been hard on thus far this tournament–Jason Kidd and Coach Mike Krzyzewski–re-established the low-post play that was the first important step in overcoming Argentina’s mediocre zone D. I counted four assists for Kidd in the pivotal third quarter alone, and all of them fed the low block–three times to Dwight Howard. It was patently obvious that Coach K had stressed banging the rock into the paint, and purposefully installed Kidd at the point to get it done in the second half. If anything, Kidd overdid it, with two or three forced and disrupted passes into Howard mixed in with the dimes. But Kidd’s seven assists were five more than any other teammate, as the USA squad seemed determined to deviate from their strengths, which are athleticism and interior passing off penetration. It ain’t three pointers. As Doug Collins frequently pointed out, the Red White and Blue shot from behind the arc for more than half of their attempts in the first half, and most of those came in the wretched second quarter, when Argentina outscored them 29-19 despite the fact that their star, Ginobili, was already done for the game with a bum ankle, and that Nocioni was clearly hobbled by a bad knee.

    Let’s name names. Kobe Bryant’s disappointing tournament continued today, as he went 2-9 from beyond the arc and 3-5 from inside it. Melo likewise jacked up most of his shots from outside, going 2-8 from beyond the arc and 1-6 inside it, with the latter total mitigated by his 13-13 performance at the line (ten of those generated by tough rebounds, shooting technicals, and fouls on two-pointers). Throw in a decent 3-6 3ptFG performance by LeBron, and the USA’s top three in minutes today were 7-23 from three point land, leading to the team’s 10-31 from trey overall. By contrast, the squad was 22-37 from two-point range, just a whisker under 60%.

    I know that shooting threes is the international game. But for the USA, it is the lazy way out. When they constantly push the tempo and look for each other underneath, good things almost always happen, and there is no team in the world talented enough to stop them merely with a packed-in zone. Did everybody see what LeBron did to the Magic, Pistons and Celtics off the dribble in the playoffs? Does anyone think Deron Williams can’t get inside of the toughest zone D, either by passing or penetrating? (So why were all of D-Will’s four shots from trey today?) When the USA is zipping the ball and taking it off the dribble, it naturally peps up their pressure defense by creating a predatory rhythm and flow. And that in turn leads to transition fast breaks, of which there were precious few today, despite the absence of Ginobili and the fact that Argentina committed four more turnovers than their tournment average of a dozen.

    Another, related, reason for the USA second quarter doldrums was the absence of Dwyane Wade due to foul trouble. Unlike Melo, Kobe and LeBron, Wade hasn’t fallen in love with the trey this tournament–he’s taking it to the rack like in the vintage games of 2006. His 4-7 FG (with just 0-1 from trey) actually lowered his FG% a fair bit for the tournament.

    Let’s face it, Kidd is the captain in name only. I would say LeBron carries the most weight of anyone on this club, but Kobe is a close second, and outside the confines of the team, Kobe is the most prominent face of the USA Olympians. That’s what makes his mediocre tournament so desultory. I’m a reformed Kobe hater. Last year’s regular season turned me around on the guy. But thus far in these games, half of his shots are treys: He’s made 14-45 three pointers (42 points) and 27-45 two pointers (54 points). I mean, it’s not like this guy is Michael Redd, best utilized pulling up and jacking. Only Kobe Bryant can make Kobe Bryant shoot just 9 FTs in 161 minutes of Olympic action. Kobe is second on the squad in minutes and 7th in FTA, plus 9th in FG%, and 6th in assists. But he’s way way ahead in three point attempts, with 15 more than Melo’s second place 30. This is a guy who can usually do pretty much what he wants with the ball in his hands. And what he apparently wants to do in these Olympics is miss three-pointers.

    There is some talk that Spain will naturally try to duplicate Argentina’s success and deploy a zone in the Gold Medal Game on Sunday. Well, Spain has played more zone than Argentina, and, with all the injuries Argentina was dealing with, has more overall talent at its disposal. If the USA plays as stupidly Sunday as it did today, it might be a ballgame for awhile.

    But I suspect that Coach K and Kidd have demonstrated to Williams and Chris Paul that attacking the zone with quickness off the dribble and interior passes is the way to go, especially since all of Spain’s bigs are relatively slow. It wouldn’t surprise me if Kobe and Melo keep jacking from outside, because they’re ultimately alpha guys who don’t want to admit mistakes or concede supremacy (which helps explain their postseason failures, by the way). It also wouldn’t surprise me if one or the other got hot and the final game was a blowout, akin to the first USA-Spain tilt. But if there is one thing we all have learned thus far, it is that Coach K’s crew doesn’t need the three pointer to florish. No, it is superior depth, athleticism, and defensive tenacity that makes them the greatest squad ever assembled since (and perhaps including) the original Dream Teamers.

    Two final thoughts: For all the talk about what a classy makeover the USA Team has done in terms of its image, all it took was one relatively close game for Melo to get in people’s faces and talk smack after a hard foul on Dwight Howard. For anyone who remembers Melo’s back-peddling paddycake in his last "fight," it really reinforces his punk credentials.

    As one who called Luis Scola the Rookie of the Year in the NBA last season (and it was close only with Atlanta’s Al Horford), I will close with my own punkish, "I told you so" in light of Scola’s monster 28 point, 11 rebound performance without Ginobili to take the pressure off. We’d seen similar grit and depth of effort throughout the 2007-08 season in Houston by Scola. He was far superior to ROY Kevin Durant, a scattershot gunner on a terrible team, and will be better for the next 2-3 years to boot. The reputation of Durant, inflated by Sports Guy Bill Simmons’ constant advocacy and those multi-shirted NBA ads last year, may be greater than Scola’s, but if you want to win basketball games, take the Argentinian.

  • Corrections, Amendments, Omissions, Apologies, Get-Backs

    So I’ve been at this blogging thing for a few months now, and judging from my comments sections, it would seem I’ve messed up kind of a lot. Which is to be expected, I suppose, as my personality is composed of equal parts naivety and ego — a mixture conducive to blanket statements that I can’t ever quite back up. So I’ve decided to issue some retractions in today’s post, and also to defend myself a little bit where I feel it’s warranted.

    First off, though, here is a hyper-linked list of what you should probably be reading right now instead of this blog – the year’s best books thus far, variously endorsed by Amazon, publishing house PR people, or myself.

    Okay. What I’ve been nailed with most have been statements that I should ‘do more research.’ In fact, that’s a weak paraphrase, so I’ll give some of the juicier examples:

    Anonymous: "Maybe [the death of criticism is] due to the lack of credibility and factual reporting in journalism…for example, [REDACTED]…so you can remove that tired example from your essay. All it takes is a bit of research rather then lazy comparisons to make a piece compelling."

    Lane: "[REDACTED]…You should have done more research instead of choosing to express more of the unending contumely put forward for hits. You failed to prove your point with this pedantic effort."

     

    Ouch, right? Let’s take a breath. Both of those are from the piece entitled, "Are All Critics Obsolete?" in which I copycat Jeremy Iggers’ post from the same week, and pontificate a bit as to whether cultural critics are necessary and/or heeded anymore.

    Now, I admit that even one false fact can indeed ruin a piece of journalism, and that I let slip a falsity in this particular piece (whether this is journalism or not is another issue…more like journalizm). I said, incorrectly, that this is a country where "Clay Aiken rules the radio," and did so in a derogatory manner. (The redacted sections: "Clay Aiken DOESN’T get played on the radio" and "Clay Aiken rules the radio? What radio stations are you listening to?" and there are a half-dozen other identical call-outs).

    And it’s true, I neglected to check the billboard charts for that week. I have no real defense, but to say I assumed that, given Aiken’s vast, loyal following, there would be enough momentum behind the guy to get him on the airwaves. Apparently his fans are as obsolete as I am. (Ahh, another Aiken throwaway joke. Bring on your predictable backlash.)

    In short, I apologize for saying that Clay Aiken ‘rules the radio,’ when in fact he doesn’t.

    Does this ruin my credibiliy?

    Trick question! I had none to begin with. (Short answer: probably)

    More seriously, the first essay/article/blog I did for "Cracking Spines" was perhaps the most ambitious, and the most errant. And for this I’d like to offer sincere apologies as to not looking at our libraries closely enough, in terms of circulations rates, patronization, et al. Certainly the library system is in much better shape than it was a few years ago before The Merger, and seems to be continuing its improvement. Every time I go to do some work at the Downtown branch, I become more impressed with it, and have even bought a fashionable Minneapolis Public Library t-shirt from their gift shot (just $5!), and wear it with something like pride.

    Moving right along…Hipster Literature:

    I still like McSweeney’s, but that doesn’t absolve them of publishing things like this Stephen King novella. There was one very astute commenter on that piece who absolutely cowed me, and to him/her I say well done.

    Barnes and Ignoble:

    Having gone to a couple Barnes and Noble readings post-posting, I’m led to believe that – due to paltry turn-outs – Magers and Quinn’s enthusiastic reading community is indeed a better spot for touring authors.

    Also, I got a comment about the links in that article…it was sort of a joke, misdirecting them everywhere. As was my excitement about Mario Lopez. Sarcasm and meta-sarcasm. My humor fell into a sarchasm…

    Oh that’s bad.

    Blurbs:
    This is an addendum. Last week there was an article in the New York Times about a business whose service is to provide author blurbs for a fee, regardless of how good a book is or isn’t.

    Finally, in my post about the conspiracies surrounding Vincent Bugliosi’s new book, a commenter was wise enough to inform me that Ben and Jerry’s do not, in fact, get their milk from Canada. Which means that my theory about global warming being a scam put on by B & J to boost the Canadian GDP is – prepare to be shocked here – false. Thanks for getting to the bottom of that one, Anonymous. You’re a great watchdog.

    Here‘s how it’s done.

    To those that are still here, I just want to say thanks for reading. I very much appreciate all the feedback – positive and otherwise – much of it is incredibly well-thought out, and delves deeper than I am capable. Cheers.

  • A Gary of Our Own

    Local Gary Louris must likely get mobbed after shows in Spain, where he spends a good deal of time. I mean, the city of Bilbao gets a full Jayhawks show on September 6 – a Saturday headlining slot, closing out the Azkena Rock Festival.

    Here in the twin towns, Gary Louris walks among us largely unnoticed, grabbing groceries, watching baseball indoors – generally fulfilling the role of husband and father. Here, we get a Monday solo acoustic performance at a 700-seat theater. And even with the help of opener Haley Bonar, he may not fill the place.

    On his intermittently but recently updated blog, Louris sends out a special request: "Please tell your friends about my upcoming shows… we need to expand the audience with your help."

    I’m conflicted. As a devoted Lourisite, it’s tear-worthy that he should have to pimp his own local show after establishing a worldwide reputation. But selfishly, I’m giddy. I know from repeated exposure that Gary Louris never disappoints his disciples, or casual fans for that matter. In a solo setting, which does indeed promise unnamed guest stars, we the faithful can relish every melody and lyric in its purest form.

    Let those who aren’t in on the secret go about their Monday evenings, eagerly awaiting the fall TV season. But if you’re lucky enough to be privy, for god’s sake, get your tickets now. Don’t make the man blog down your door.

    Gary Louris, with special guest Haley Bonar; Monday, Aug. 25, 7:30pm; Guthrie Theater, McGuire Proscenium Stage *tickets still available*