The Rake Magazine

Category: Blog Post

  • Of Pubs and Parliament

    Hello, my name is Hector E. Ramos-Ramos, and I intend here to share with you my observations, opinions, and concerns while I am abroad (primarily in Scotland), courtesy of the study abroad program at St. Paul’s own Macalester College.

    Although I am not originally from Minnesota, the home of Bunyan and Babe has grown on me in a way I could not have predicted that first winter in 2005. Back then I constantly asked myself why I had forsaken the perpetual balminess of my hometown of San Juan, Puerto Rico, for this. Eventually though, just like the videos at the Light Rail stations tell you, even the harshest winter becomes tolerable after you’ve understood how charming Minnesota really is.

    In any case, I’m in Scotland now, at the University of Edinburgh, and I’m behind blogging schedule, so now I have to make up for my laziness with some earnest storytelling.

    I left San Juan around noon, was briefly stationed in New York City, flew from there to London (our in-flight movie was Tootsie), and then, it was just a brisk hour-long hop to Edinburgh. It had taken more than a day, but when I arrived at the airport I received my hard-earned prize: torrents of hard, cold sleet. Welcome to Scotland.

    I followed a trail of visiting university students. We all piled into a bus. None of us spoke to one another, and everyone seemed exhausted and eager to get some sleep. When I was dropped off at my university flat, the absence of bedding in my room gave me a reason to go out into the Scottish capital and explore.

    Highlights from Week One:

    The next day, orientation was held at a large lecture hall. I sat next to my flatmate, Vilhelm, from Sweden. He is one of four guys who live in our apartment (from now on, "flat"). We patiently watched some very nice Scottish university employees talk to us about the beauties of their country and the ins and outs of opening a bank account. Their accents were impenetrable, and the only way I sort-of understood what they were saying was by looking at a massive PowerPoint projection.

    Pubs happened soon after and would continue throughout the otherwise commitment-free week. Discovering a new pub is like finding a new home away from home away from home. It was during one of these introductions into the world of pubs (accompanied by my new friends, all of them from continental Europe), that I got my first lesson in local drink-culture. I went to order a pint of lager (beer) at the counter, and one of the brands, Tennent’s, caught my eye. I told the man what I wanted, and some young Scotsmen behind me in the queue reacted by chortling. One of them made the reason for my risibility very clear, "Tennent’s is for poofs." Since I have seen a number of British sitcoms, I know that poofs = limp-wristed weenies. Not wanting to be the source of Scottish mirth, I turned to the man behind the counter and said, "Erm, excuse me, could I get a Caledonian instead." No laugh track accompanied my change of drink.

    Highlights from Week Two:

    Already a week into classes, things had started to get slightly less fancy-free. My friends and I did a fair amount of touristing though. The school provided us the option of paying a few pounds for a daylong trip to the much sung-about Loch Lomond. We decided to bite the bait and hopped on the bus to the Loch. After three hours of cramped travel, we were there — Loch Lomond: 80% mist and 20 % shopping mall. After the fog cleared up and I saw the ducks doing their thing in the vast expanse of grey water, I turned to look at the awful strip mall opposite the Loch and thought to myself "What kind of schmo let this happen?" The Loch is so large that I was told by a park ranger that it would take several days on foot to go around the whole thing; I only had a few hours, so I proceeded to feed most of the ducks in my immediate surroundings. At Loch Lomond, I also found out that my flatmate, Vilhelm, has a mild case of cynophobia. This emerged after I saw him get stiff as a lamppost when two beautiful German Shepherds decided to nuzzle playfully at his feet. Later, he told me with the severity
    of a character from a Bergman movie that "dogs get more attention
    than they ought to…they don’t deserve it, not one." 

    I got to know my other flatmates, Knut and Mathieu, better this week. Knut is from Norway, but he speaks in perfect British "received pronunciation," sometimes sounding like a youthful Richard Attenborough. Mathieu is from France and he is soccer-mad, seemingly planning his life around television matches and trips to see some of his favorite teams play. The first is rather fond of dry humor, and it is comforting to know that we both share a love of classic British comedies like Yes, Minister. Mathieu
    is more happy-go-lucky, but he has a marvelously good attitude to everything. 
    He makes Marcel Marceau look like an undertaker. 

    This week, my friends and I also went to Calton Hill, where many Scottish luminaries are buried. I got a special kick out of seeing the mausoleum David Hume commissioned for himself. I am a big fan of Hume, and I appreciate praise Edinburgh heaps on him, in the form of big buildings named after him and big statues portraying him. On the hill, we also saw the National Monument, a half-finished (yet, indeed, monumental) thing in the style of the Parthenon. Begun in 1822 to commemorate the Scottish soldiers who died for Britain at Waterloo, plans to finally finish construction are tentative. I like it the way it is — aren’t most of those old Greek things in ruins anyway?

  • IKI STYLE

    Ninety-nine percent of the Mahi Mahi sold in the U.S. mainland comes from South
    America, and it is transported on trucks in very slow 3rd world process, so by
    the time the Mahi reaches the U.S. mainland it has a lot of shelf life on it
    already and the quality is very poor. Many people do not get a very good
    impression of Mahi because of this, and they would not think that Mahi Mahi
    could be a Sashimi fish. However, in Hawaii it is highly prized as a
    sashimi fish.

    In Hawaii, the Mahi Mahi is considered to be so good that only
    the high end restaurants can afford to buy it. Many of the lower end restaurants
    actually do not serve local Mahi, but frozen imports.

    The technique used to
    catch "day boat" sashimi grade Mahi Mahi in Hawaii is called "IKI STYLE" (aka:
    ika shibi style). Essentially, the idea is to stablize this fish right after the
    catch, because Mahi Mahi has a tendency to flop around a lot when you take them
    out of the water. Many mainland fishermen and in other regions of the world do
    not realize that this is the time when your meat most vulnerable. Unnecessary
    flopping around ruins the meat, because the fish is stressed out and the histamine
    levels in the fish build up and go right into the meat. This is the difference
    between "sashimi" quality and just regular plain old Mahi Mahi.

    The "Iki" method
    is an old Japanese technique. As soon as the fish comes out the water they
    do not let it flop around. Instead, they stick a metal rod down the spine of the
    fish, stabilizing the fish, but at the same time not killing the fish. (Basically,
    it paralyzes the fish.) This way the fisherman keep the fish on ice all the way
    into port, and then right before they get ready to dock they pull the rod out
    the spine of the fish. This makes it as if you caught the fish right out of
    water and produces an amazing quality of Mahi Mahi meat unlike anywhere in the
    world. This unique method is only practiced in Japan and Hawaii.

  • Sushi: The Naked Truth, part one!

    It seems that not even ten years ago sushi was hardly known, or worse in smaller communities it was known as "bait." And if you asked someone if they liked sushi or if they had eaten sushi, the typical response was, "What suesheee??? Nahhh, we don’t eat our bait!"

    Now if you look around today sushi is everywhere! Spreading like a wildfire, sushi restaurants are popping up in every community. Grocery stores are jumping on the band wagon, and even American restaurants are being influenced with a bit of sashimi or tuna tar tar, etc.

    Like anything else that gets popular with rapid growth, the core is often forgotten, lost, overseen, or simply ignored.

    Spicy tuna: Spicy tuna came to be because when a tuna loin is cut down you will only get about an inch or so of good meat left before the skin because the amount of fascia (white connective tissue) is too chewy for it to be used for nigiri, sashimi, or even a roll.

    Because it is good meat, and sometimes even great if it’s fatty, and it’s toro, we take a spoon and scrape the meat to separate it from the fascia. The end product looks like ground beef and is then made into spicy tuna.

    I’ve had a few customers complain that our spicy tuna is too soft or mushy. Well, that’s because it’s not frozen chunked tuna; this is the real deal!!

    On that note, if you go to a sushi bar and see spicy hamachi, spicy scallops, spicy this or that, it’s not good because they are not turning the fish and as its starts to stink it’s masked with spices and sold, when it should be tossed.

    Cheers,

    Henry C,
    Giapponese

  • Am I the First?

    Scott from Corner Table here. Well, you might have guessed what I will be talking about. LOCAL STUFF! I would hope that this is a blog that will be a place for us to comment on the people that comment on us all the time. I am sure that from "back of the house" to "front of house" there are plenty of people that would love to tell AB, AZ, KJ, RN, DM-G, JI, AP, PL, NN, what we feel is important to talk about. So, here goes.

     

  • A Casual Classic: Dinner and a Show

    WINE & DINE
    Metropolitan Delicatessen

    Enjoy a multiple course tasting menu with our favorite wine pairings tonight at The Rake’s World Flavors Tour. This month, join us at Be’wiched Deli for Metropolitan Delicatessen. Be’wiched
    Deli uses the freshest ingredients to create healthy food from scratch — featuring house cured and smoked meats and fresh bakery items. The meat they cure and smoke is raised by farmers who do not believe in using
    hormones or antibiotics. Space is limited and reservations are
    required. —Jennifer Havrish

    6:30 p.m., Be’wiched Deli, 800 Washington Ave. N., Minneapolis; 612-767-4330; $30.

    MUSIC
    Boy Toys or Toys Boy

    If you’ve found yourself missing New Kids on the Block and the Backstreet Boys lately, you should probably go check out the Jonas Brothers at the Target Center tonight (and then unsubscribe from this email, because I probably will never really write about anything you like — kidding, of course). But for a far more interesting show — with a fair degree of boyhood wonder and sap involved — you’re better off catching Say Hi to Your Mom at the Triple Rock. Sure, it’s emo. Sure, it’s computer generated. Sure, it’s vaguely pretentious and perhaps tries just a little too hard to be weird (just check out the bio on their website — talk about saying it all without saying a thing). But they—or rather, he, since it’s primarily Eric Elbogen—sings songs about toys with brains and the like. That’s pretty cool, right? And darn if they don’t sound nice. Listen to them here or here.

    9 p.m., Triple Rock Social Club, 629 Cedar Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612- 333-7399; $10.

    Or… you can get a little jiggy with it…

    Galactic Grooves

    Warm up with an evening of hot grooves from Galactic, a New Orleans based ensemble that may just be the rightful heirs to the godfather of soul’s funk throne. The band combines the neo-jazz sensibility of Medeski, Martin and Wood with the classic grooves of The Meters and then filters it all through a modern hip-hop prism. From The Corner to the Block is the band’s latest and perhaps greatest offering, a street-smart party record that will please lovers of the old and new schools of funk and fusion. And don’t worry, there’s no doubt that Galactic’s tight breaks will provide ample opportunity to get on down. Plus their live show is evidently quite a party. Opening is acclaimed neo-soul-hopper Ohmega Watts. —Christopher Hontos

    8 p.m., The Cabooze, 917 Cedar Ave., Minneapolis; 612-338-6425; $22.

    FILM
    Cinema Lounge Sells Out

    It’s time for another Cinema Lounge, and as usual, this one promised to be quite interesting – that is, if you like mocking commercial work — and who doesn’t? Tonight’s films are primarily spoofs, which ought to be quite amusing; but a few real pieces are tossed in just to frighten us a bit (actually, this will include entries from the Grain Belt Beer commercial competition, which should also be quite amusing). Stop by. Have a beer (or the tuna tataki). Have a laugh. Watch shorts by Idiot Box, Ryan Strandjorn, Jon Springer, Dave Ash, Dreamworld Studios, and Todd Cobery. And then meet the artists in person, ask them questions, and hear them talk about their work. You know the drill.

    7 p.m., Bryant Lake Bowl, 810 West Lake St., Minneapolis; 612-825-8949; free (but I’m guessing donations are more than welcome.

     

  • The Syringa Tree: Strange Magic

    Every morning, I get up all bleary and I pour my coffee and I sit down with my laptop and I tell my little stories. Character, plot, narrative, theme. I think I have a handle on these things. Most days, I feel competent.

    Then I read or see something like The Syringa Tree, which is playing at the Jungle Theater until March 9, and everything I know about how to construct a story seems hopelessly naive.

    Here’s the thing. I know beginning, middle, and end. I understand the journey, the epic, the Once Upon a Time. . . . and Happily Ever After motif.
    What I do not get is how playwright Pamela Gien took shreds of dialogue
    and monologue and memory and wove them all together into a sparkling web of a tale that spans 30 years and includes the politics of
    apartheid, the complicated allegiances of a liberal white South African family, and
    the shame that comes to those — both white and black — who feel
    responsible for the vicious acts of their kind.

    This is a one-woman show in which one actor (Sarah Agnew at the Jungle) plays 22 different characters — ranging from a six-year-old named Elizabeth Grace to a Catholic priest to Zephyr, a 60-year-old Zulu gardener — using nothing but the pitch of her voice, accents, facial expressions, and body language. She turns ever so slightly to one side, straightens her spine, and suddenly becomes someone else. Never do you wonder whether she is the child or the mother, the white doctor of the black maid. Agnew’s body is like liquid on the stage. She skips, weeps, cowers, and grieves. There is a world of people within this single small form.

    Watch in particular for the scene that takes place in a car — which does
    not, of course, actually exist. There are three people in the invisible
    vehicle: Elizabeth, her mother, Eugenie, and a driver. And Agnew moves
    in a continuous circle playing them all, carrying on a conversation
    with herself, until you could swear there actually are three people on
    the stage.

    No less is this alchemy present in the set. There is only a bare stage with a large swing hanging from the rafters, a backdrop cracked with sky-colored hues: pink, yellow, and blue for daytime; gold and green for dusk; shadows with slats of light. A man is beaten, a little girl watches in fear. It all happens before your eyes though of course, there is nothing there, really. Somehow, this amazing play makes you conjure the hat-sized blooming jacarandas and sly Rhodesian freedom fighters all on your own.

    How is this done? I only wish I knew. I feel as if I need to get ahold of a copy of the play and shake it until the secret falls out.

    Part of it must have to do with Joel Sass’s brilliant direction. It is worth noting that Sarah Agnew — who is luminous in this performance (or these performances, as the case may be) — also played Margaret in the Guthrie’s recent production of The Home Place. And though Star Tribune theater critic Graydon Royce singled her out as the "most satisfying" among a muddled cast, I, frankly, was hard pressed to see it. There, she faded. Here, in Syringa Tree, she is mesmerizing. But so too is the careful attention to movement, to her position on the stage, to the carefully choregraphed glances she casts to indicate action in another plane.

    It is only partly coincidence that I followed this magnificent evening at the theater, a mere 90+ minutes that seemed to go by in half the time, with a South African pinotage.

    In truth, I’ve always wanted to like South African wines. I like the idea of South African wines. But sadly, I’ve never tasted one that turned me on. Then, I found out there’s a Minneapolis company called Etica distibuting only Fair Trade winemakers — those that ensure workers are paid a livable wage, pay producers a premium for their products, adhere to eco-friendly methods, and re-invest in the local communities where there wine is made — and one of their top offerings right now is the 2006 Goue Vallei Pinotage.

    Pinotage is the principal grape in South African winemaking. A combination of Pinot Noir and Cinsaut, it has a distinctly dirty taste. I don’t mean earthy, peaty, or rich with soil. I mean old ashtray with a hint of green banana peel.

    But after becoming entranced by The Syringa Tree, I figured I was in as hospitable a mood as possible. So I opened the Goue Vallei and gave it a try. Perhaps it was due to Gien’s work and the memory of Agnew on her swing, but I can safely say this is the best inexpensive Pinotage I recall. It is dirty, but not intensely so. There’s a robust layer of fruit, cherry with a whiff of something tropical, and a rutting goat-ish finish that lingers for quite a while.

    I find it strange that this wine has no more in common with a French Pinot Noir than it does, say, with an egg salad sandwich. It’s not for refined sipping and it’s probably best drunk with plenty of sinewy dark meat, such as elk or deer. But it is — like the play — an interesting and entirely different experience. Plus, it’s probably the most humane and ecologically-responsible way to drink, right down to the bottle’s synthetic cork.

    If you want to try a glass, it’s on the menu at Birchwood Cafe, The Sample Room, Via, and, of all places, Green Mill. For a complete list of local retailers carrying Etica wines, click here.

    But here’s my advice: First, you should call The Jungle to reserve your tickets to Syringa Tree.

  • Text Your Tuna

    If you’re one of those people who is annoyed by restaurant texters, thumbs madly pumping away on their phone while they ignore the others at their table, relax. They may be saving the ocean.

    The Blue Ocean Institute has launched FishPhone the first sustainable seafood text messaging service. Embracing technology, Blue Ocean understands where the important decisions are made: in front of the menu. How often, when you’re in the whirl of a spectacular evening out, can you recall the specifics of your eco-training? Especially with seafood, a vast arena of eating that fluctuates with seasons and trends. No one can memorize the status of the thousands of sea critters.

    Enter the text. Simply send a text to 30644 with the message FISH followed by the name of the species you’d like to research. They’ll send you a text back with that species status: Green, Yellow, or Red.

    I sent FISH lingcod and received this: caught off US West Coast (YELLOW) some environmental concerns; bottom trawling damages habitat; HEALTH ADVISORY: High Mercury. … at this point I might choose to find out if the restaurant knows how the fish was caught, many chefs won’t buy anything trawl caught.

    When I tried to check out branzino: Sorry, we haven’t reviewed that species yet. Be sure to check spelling. We continually add species to our database so check back often! … Branzino is actually just the Italian name for European Sea Bass which is pretty common and well-regulated.

    For monkfish: (YELLOW) some environmental concerns; try US farmed catfish, US farmed rainbow trout, or US farmed tilapia instead … I like the recommendations, but you’re out of luck if they’re not offered on the menu.

    Additionally, for those with web-enabled devices, you can download Blue Ocean’s Guide to Ocean Friendly Seafood from fishphone.org.

  • No Surprise Here, UnitedHealth Rides Again

    It’s not any surprise to those who’ve followed the sordid history of UnitedHealth Group to see that the company is being sued by the Attorney General of New York for manipulating the reimbursement rates for their insured who go outside of the network for their care.

    It seems United reimburses its customers based on a formula which calculates the "customary" charges for services in the New York area. Of course, the "customary" charges are calculated by a third party. In this case a company called Ingenix, which happens to be owned by UnitedHealth.

    An investigation by the state showed that a "customary" charge for a doctor visit in New York City was $200. Ingenix said it was $77. I don’t know if any of you have been to the doctor lately, but the charge in Minneapolis passed $77 quite some time ago. I’m fairly certain that I read somewhere that New York is more expensive to live in than Minneapolis.

    As NY Attorney General Andrew Cuomo said, “We believe there was an industrywide scheme perpetuated by some of the
    nation’s largest health insurers to deceive and defraud consumers.”

    Ya think?

     

  • The Three Pointer: Better Than Philly

    Copyright 2008 NBAE (Photo by David Sherman/NBAE via Getty Images)


    Game #52, Home Game #27: Philadelphia 88, Minnesota 104

    Season record: 11-41

    1. Spread the Credit

    It’s been a habit of these three-pointers to isolate players for individual praise or criticism, rearranging members of the roster like pieces in a jigsaw puzzle that someday will yield a different and more pleasing picture than the one who entered the All Star break losing more than four games for every one it won. But tonight’s convincing triumph over a Philadelphia 76ers team that had won five straight is most accurately seen as a blended team effort, the type of performance that most satisfies coaches and front office personnel.

    The Wolves’ outscored Philly in all four quarters, beating back a series of runs and challenges in the process. Seven of the nine players who participated–and all seven of those who logged over 20 minutes of playing time–scored in double figures. Only Antoine Walker, who played but 8:05, failed to record a positive in the plus/minus figures. Especially in the first half, the Wolves both moved the ball and moved without the ball, generating offense that was generous, dynamic, and visually pleasing. They were far better mentally and physically prepared than their opponent for their first game in nearly a week, roaring out to a 17-8 lead in the first 6:14 mostly by grabbing 12 of the game’s first 14 rebounds and proving themselves to be the more alert and energetic team.

    Within this team game, two early matchups deserve special mention. Perhaps no foe has frustrated Jefferson more than Samuel Dalembert the first time these teams played, with Big Al suffering five blocks, including a game-tying attempt in the final seconds. This time, Jefferson wasn’t lunched once en route to 9-14 FG. And at the other end, Jefferson totally stymied his taller but more listless opponent. At the half, Dalembert had two points and a rebound in 13:13 versus Jefferson’s 10 and 8 in 16:22. Jefferson’s shot wasn’t falling, but four offensive board produced a pair of putbacks that boosted his percentage (he was 5-9 FG in the first half). He added three more offensive rebounds in the second half and grabbed 14 overall versus 9 for Dalembert. Best of all, weaknesses in his game are slowly but fairly surely being caulked. His "show" on the pick and roll actually had some resonance for the dribbler, and he wasn’t as casual about getting back either.

    But the real eye-opener was a trio of interior passes down toward the hoop from a spot in the middle of the post. Because Jefferson has expanded his range enough to hit that 12-15 footer, the double-team–or at least an opponent’s attention–will be drawn. Tonight he shoveled one pass that Craig Smith finished, went over the top to find Rashad McCants in traffic beneath the hoop, and had another nifty feed come to naught due to a missed layup. His total of 3 assists could have been double that had his teammates converted, or if he needed to log more than just 2:22 in the 4th quarter.

    The other honorable mention goes to Corey Brewer’s defense on Philly’s leading scorer, Andre Iguodala. The 6-6 swingman was clearly bothered by Brewer’s length and tenacity, missing all four of his shots before Brewer picked up his second foul with 3:01 to play in the first and headed for the bench. On the other side of the ball, Brewer remains a disaster–his lone basket in 8 attempts came on a transition layup off a steal. Yes, he takes "good shots," and I suppose one should applaud his confidence in continuing to try and keep opposing defenses honest. But they simply don’t fall–long in the first half, woefully short on his first attempt of the 3rd period–and defenses cheat dishonestly away from him anyway, and will until his finds the range.

    But here’s why Brewer deserves kudos instead of brickbats for this game: While scoring just that lone bucket on five attempts in the first period, the rook also grabbed six rebounds, dished for two dimes, and sank a pair of free throws. Meanwhile, he held Iguodala to a pair of free throw attempts (one made), no baskets, two rebounds and an assist in that first period. When your rookie is getting the better of your opponent’s top point producer, the chances of winning skyrocket. Brewer wasn’t flashy about it–his blanket on Iguodala was most apparent after he sat and Iguodala suddenly was shooting jumpers without a hand in his face (McCants and Ryan Gomes were his other defenders). He *was* flashy coming out of nowhere to foul fellow rook Thaddeus Young in mid-slam well above the hoop in the third quarter, however. Bottom line, if Brewer is one of the top two (or perhaps even three) guys in your pecking order, your team isn’t likely to go far in the playoffs. On the other hand, most playoff-caliber teams have a Brewer-like presence in their lineup: An energy guy with glue-like attributes. And he’s going to get better.

     

    2. Bassy Hangs In

    Randy Foye finally received his first start of the season tonight, but in a bit of an upset, it was at the shooting guard slot. This move is a victory for common sense over face-saving draft politics. If Foye isn’t a point guard, then the Wolves likely erred in swapping him for Brandon Roy (certainly the injury history argument hasn’t panned out thus far for Foye’s defenders). Well, Foye *isn’t* a point guard–they are sent from God, as Stephon Marbury once said, and isn’t that ironic in retrospect–but force-feeding him at that spot to make sure was the kind of butt-covering logic I anticipated. Instead, Wittman and company are properly impressed with Bassy’s gaudy assist to turnover ratio; after preaching the value of reducing turnovers with numbing frequency, Wittman would have demonstrated blatant hypocrisy by lifting him for a unbalanced combo guy whose miscues outnumber his dimes.

    Fifty-two games into this season, Telfair is the Wolves player who has most aggressively seized this campaign by the throat, not so much surpassing the low expectations his previous play had engendered as lapping them, stoking his energy and intelligence in the process. In the past 30 games or so, Telfair has finally learned how to do more than simply turn the key in the offense and try to steer the wheel. He’s discovered how to regulate pace with the throttle and the brake, how to draw and kick, how to make opponents cover him because of his dribble penetration or initial probes in the modified fast break where the Wolves may or may not have the numbers. He’s still small, of course, and despite tonight’s 3-4 FG, his shooting continues to be a relatively wretched adventure. But when he’s paired with Jaric or Foye or McCants in the backcourt, there’s no longer much doubt that he’s the floor general.

    By the numbers, Foye had perhaps his best game thus far: 13 points, five assists and one lone turnover. But he did jack up 15 shots (making six), including a half-dosen treys (converting one), and he’s been a sub-mediocre defender all year. Tonight, Andre Miller posted him up a couple of times for easy baskets on the way to a 15-point half that kept Philly in the game (Miller didn’t score in the second half, however.) Of even greater concern, Philly was the second straight opponent to deploy a full-court press when Foye was the primary point guard, and Wittman quickly had Telfair up and ready to go back in after the court-length disruption cut into the Wolves lead.

    Foye’s confidence, like Brewer’s, remainsa little higher than reality might warrant. Asked about his defense tonight, he boasted about clamping down on Willie Green (who *was* held to 6 points on 3-10 FG) instead of Miller’s early post-ups or some garbage time matador maneuvers. It is reminiscent of his claim about being best suited for the point. And maybe after he regains full range of
    that knee and fills his head with another thousand or so minutes at the point, he’ll become more of a savior than a sabatoeur at the position. But Wittman revealed after tonight’s game that he’ll continue to experiment with the Telfair-Foye backcourt allignment for a while longer to see how well they stir up sparks.

    3. Cuban’s Kidd

    About three weeks ago when I was catching a Mavs game on League Pass, a television poll showed Dallas fans believing that Devin Harris was the team MVP at that time. Now not only Harris but the Mavs’ best legit big man in Dasanga Diop are heading to New Jersey to finally trigger the trade for Jason Kidd. It’s a bad deal for Dallas on a number of levels: The fans clearly appreciated Harris, who destroyed the Wolves with dribble penetration the first two times the teams met in Dallas earlier this year. Kidd has slipped defensively, and will have difficulty with the Nash-Williams-Paul-Parker quartet, who figure to be among his opposing matchups in the playoffs. Losing Diop means Erick Dampier will be the default man in the pivot when the Mavs need to match up with lengthy ballclubs. Then there is the small matter of two first round draft picks. And three million bucks.

    I’ll be shocked if both Dallas and Phoenix make it out of the first round of this year’s playoffs.

  • Let It Loose, Let It All Come Down: A Very Sad Business All Around

    Some mysterious combination of failing light, and the smell of an unrecognized plant bring back to some men the sense of childhood, and of future hope; and to others the sense of something which has been lost and nearly forgotten.

    –Graham Greene, The Honorary Counsul

    What we cannot think, we cannot think; we cannot therefore say what we cannot think.

    –Ludwig Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus

    When not engaged in warfare they spend a certain amount of time at hunting, but much more in idleness, thinking of nothing else but sleeping and eating. For the boldest and most warlike men have no regular employment; the care of house, home, and fields being left to the women, old men, and weaklings of the the family. In thus dawdling away their time they show a strange inconsistency –at one and the same time loving indolence and hating peace.

    –Tacitus, Germania

    The place was perpetually murky, either sticky-hot and prone to tantrums, or inhospitably cold and overcast. Clouds would roll in and set up shop for months at a time, casting a disorienting pall over the days, a permanent crepuscle that made it easy to lose track of time.

    In the warm months, between spasms of rain, the little town would bake and be congested with dust kicked up by the slow, ceaseless procession of late-model European and American cars, bicycles, and carts dragged through the dust by old women and children on their way to the crowded markets.

    The town was surrounded by thick woods that rolled steadily upward toward the mountains that were overgrown with lush, almost tropical greenery. These mountains were said to be populated by ancient tribes of warring giants and trolls.

    For almost a century the population of giants was alleged to have been in alarming decline, a decline that was attributed to environmental factors and a mysterious crisis of infertility. For generations the giants had subsisted on wild hogs and the young and elderly trolls they were able to steal from their rival tribe.

    Over the years, however, the trolls had become masters of stealth, cunning, and deception, and had adapted to the once frequent incursions of the giants by moving underground, where they had excavated a complex network of tunnels and subterranean villages. They also became quite expert in creating traps for the giants. These traps were huge bunkers that the trolls would cover with brush and bait with a howling child or pig. One giant, thus captured, could feed one hundred trolls for a month.

    Eventually, the combination of these various factors led to the wholesale eradication of the giants, and the trolls had the complete run of the place. They moved above ground, started to read the Bible, and built unsightly compounds comprised of little but poorly-made mansions, town homes, and strip malls.The trolls, it was said, were indiscriminate breeders, and they rapidly accumulated great wealth and power.They were known to comport themselves with a strange combination of indolence, aggression, and arrogance. The natives of the village grew to regard them with fear and loathing, until one day a band of brazen local youths, armed with nothing but stones, mounted a series of attacks that razed entire neighborhoods, killed hundreds of trolls, and drove the remainder of the crass little bastards back underground.