The Rake Magazine

Category: Blog Post

  • Figure Skaters… I WAS ONE 🙁

    Since I spent one third of my life at a Figure Skating Rink, wearing skating costumes that were so small underwear was NOT an option… I figure it’s time for me to come clean on what I think of the sport.

    When I was 15, I discovered that my opportunity to live a normal teenage life, with sleepovers and spin-the-bottle games with boys, would conflict with my six-day-a-week skating practices. It was then that I knew the time had come. It was time to say goodbye to a sport that had taught me perseverance, determination, and that jealousy really is the root of all evil.

    As the U.S. National Figure Skating Championships are held this year in my hometown, this very week, the memories and nightmares of my Figure Skating past are all coming back. I told my editor, Cristina, that I wanted to write about Figure Skating and my experience, but that it is virtually impossible for me to write about all my experiences in one blog post, therefore I will be dragging this out for a while.

    Yes, therapy would spare you all the grave details, but admit it — you
    all enjoy a good story that involves pretty people in pretty clothes, with a story line that would make a fantastic Lifetime Movie of the Week.

    So, while you are watching in awe the unfolding of the National Figure
    Skating Championships this weekend — wishing it was YOU wearing that beautiful little costume with your hair looking perfect after landing a triple toe (yes, I could land a triple toe loop) and getting a standing ovation from your audience — be glad you are NOT the one competing this weekend.

    Before you continue, be forewarned: I must take my time developing this story if I am to remain completely forthcoming. I am going to need to go to the "Skating Spectacular" on Sunday to see, in person, those skaters who sacrificed their education, their childhood, and their innocence to go for the gold.

    Come Monday, I will focus on My True Story: "My life as a competitive Figure Skater — I have a Gold Medal, but…"

  • An Economic Stimulus of the Mind

    So, am I right on this? The government wants to send me six-hundred
    bucks? Well, that’s the sort of policy I can get behind, friends … But at first, when I
    heard the news, I thought: Now, g’on ahead and feed that to your wee, pup of an investment portfolio. But that sort of defeats the purpose
    of an economic stimulus, right? So then, I realized, it is my duty to
    blow this dough–and guilt free, too!

    Understand me on this: I do not advocate Keynesian economics, especially when it comes to personal spending. Still, sadly,
    I couldn’t resist outlining, in my head, a lefty little plan for how I might help with the economy: clothes, shoes, locally-owned retailers as much as possible, oh, and if I can
    support a local craftsperson or two all the better. The conclusion of this thought process: What’s the harm in procuring the threads I
    want now, and then paying them off later–when I’ve got the coin?

    This has all been a roundabout way of explaining my mindset
    when, last night, I hauled over to La Bodega to enjoy the
    Avoid The Gray fashion show, sponsored by the local boutique Cliché.

    And Avoid The Gray they certainly did! To be quite honest, I
    wasn’t keen on some of the paisley and floral satins that marched down the
    aisle. But I was inspired by a few of the runway looks:

    As always, my sincerest apologies for the lack of photographic prowess. Still, I thought this blue trench was very dramatic and, somehow, romantic. Bravo to the designer … I think it was Belle.
    The chunky scarf is sexy as hell, don’t you think? I’m not sure, but I think this look was from Amanda Christine Designs.
    Meet my favorite model of the night: spunky, sassy, sexy as hell, and–halleluiah–curvy. (Girl crush! Swoon!) Lookit. A little later on, she struck a pose for me, too:
    The above comes from Mafiusi. Don’t know ’em, but I dug the use of Superman-style tights!
    And here are a few of the other looks I enjoyed–all of which are available, for your deficit-spending pleasure, at ClichĂ© as of TODAY:

  • A Bit of Courage and a Dash of Spunk

    BOOKS & AUTHORS
    Fear and Courage in the Democratic Party

    Blunt, brutal, to-the-point honesty can be pretty rare in politics, but that
    is exactly what Glenn Hurowitz delivers in his candid book called
    Fear and Courage in the Democratic Party    . Hurowitz is a journalist,
    political commentator and the president of the Democratic Courage political
    action committee. He is also fed up with the status quo.
    Hurowitz’ book is frank conversation about the watering-down of Democratic
    politics and the trepidation most Dems have to stray too far from the
    comfortable middle ground. Fear and Courage in the Democratic
    Party     is also a call for change. Citing courageous politicians
    such as the late Paul Wellstone, Hurowitz encourages Dems to fight for
    what they believe in and to resist being "spineless weasels" like
    some politicians. Join Hurowitz as he discusses his book today
    at Magers and Quinn at 7:30 pm. Politics have rarely been hotter. —Kate Leibfried

    Friday at 7:30 p.m., Magers & Quinn Booksellers, 3038 Hennepin Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-822-4611.

    THEATER & PERFORMANCE
    Drink Up That Espresso

    Consider this an early warning, so that you have ample time to move on it: The "highly caffeinated comedy," Triple Espresso, is coming to a close here on April 12. If the show’s great success hasn’t convinced you to see it yet, then consider for a moment that these three local artists wanted to work together so badly that they created this piece precisely to satisfy that need. Have they satisfied it? I’m sure they have. How about you? Let Bill Arnold, Michael Pearce Donley, and Bob Stromberg tickle your funnybone a while. They’ll even be performing in the roles they created during the last two weeks of the performances, from April 2-12.

    Friday at 8 p.m., Saturday at 5 & 8 p.m., and Sunday at 3 & 6:30 p.m., Music Box Theatre, 1407 Nicollet Mall, Minneapolis; 612-871-1414; $31-36.

    BENEFIT
    Minnesota Film and TV Board Celebrates 25 Years

    Ever wonder how big a hand the Minnesota Film and TV Board has had in the film industry? For 25 years they’ve been supporting locally made movies, television, and commercials – and trying to generate more. A Prairie Home Companion, Fargo, Mighty Ducks, Grumpy Old Men, and yes, even Purple Rain. Just think, without them we might never have seen Prince writhing on the floor for his Darling Nikki. That’s a pretty darn good reason to show some love, even if that love puts a notable dent in your monthly budget. Your contribution is bound to pay off well in entertainment value… with a side of state pride.

    Saturday at 8 p.m., FIVE, 2917 Bryant Ave. S., Minneapolis; 651-645-3600; $150.

    MUSIC
    moe.

    In terms of wank-out psychedelia, this Buffalo, New York-based jam
    band is more peyote than purple microdot: organic, smooth, and offering
    a slightly shorter trip than the Grateful Dead or Phish, or their friend Umphrey’s McGee. After using concert improvisations to flesh out the tunes that run like flowing ribbons through previous albums like Wormwood and The Conch, moe. cranked out their latest, Sticks and Stones
    (due January 22), in three weeks of recording, customizing ten songs to
    clock less than forty-one minutes total. But between the dual guitars
    and the wanton back catalog, the new stuff should be shaggy enough to
    win over the self-proclaimed “moe.rons” in the audience. —Britt Robson

    Sunday at 8 p.m., First Avenue, 701 First Ave. N., Minneapolis; 612-332-1775; $25.

    International Guitar Night

    As I’m told, the guitar and the piano are the only two instruments on which you can play both a harmony and a melody simultaneously. If you work it right, it’s like… making a woman sing. OK, that’s ridiculous. But if we had let ourselves go with it, we’d have to point out that both instruments have feminine curves. Of course, the guitar is much more fun to hold. Guitar lovers, head out to International Guitar Night on Sunday for an evening of multifarious acoustic guitar, featuring D’Gary, Clive Carroll, Brian Gore, and Miguel de la Bastide. Sure, I love some of the basic acoustic rock this town has to offer, but guitarists like these are hard to come by.

    Sunday at 7:30 p.m.,     The Cedar Cultural Center, 416 Cedar Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-388-2674; $15.

    DANCE
    Kevin Locke Native Dance Ensemble

    Truth be told, I’ve never met a Native American artist with only one art. It seems the singer can bead, the drummer can sing, the writer can dance, the storyteller can paint, the dancer can drum. In this case, he does it all… pretty much. Kevin Locke has performed in over 70 countries, as a flutist, a storyteller, and a dancer. Come see him this Sunday with his Native Dance Ensemble.

    Sunday at 3 & 7 p.m., Southern Theater, 1420 Washington Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-340-1725; $18.

  • The Truth: You Absolutely Must Drink if You Watch This Show

    I would like to tell you that my daughter and I spend quality time together watching the Masterpiece series of Jane Austen stories: pretty, bonneted heroines practicing archery and dropping calling cards and plotting to win the hearts of handsome young men. I would like to tell you that. But it’s just not true.

    A few nights ago, in the interest of bonding, I sat down with her to watch (and I shudder, literally, as I type this) The Moment of Truth.

    It’s a game show. . . .sort of. Also a reality program, I suppose, in the sense that humiliating people seems to be the staple of these shows. It involves a "contestant" who agrees to answer something like 50 questions — personal questions — while hooked up to a lie detector. Then he or she goes on FOX-TV (which I’m embarrassed to say, I was not aware prior to this was one of the 8 channels we receive) and must answer an assortment of the same questions in front of three people: a spouse or partner, parents, friends, in some cases a boss.

    "You won’t believe it, Mom," my daughter said and invited me to sit next to her. (Do you know how rare this is??) So I did. And I didn’t. . . .believe it, that is.

    The questions start off easy: Do you belong to the Hair Club for Men? Have you ever gone through a co-worker’s personal things? And by answering these "correctly" — meaning truthfully — the person in the chair wins something nominal, like ten grand.

    Then they get weird, sick, and invasive. Also strangely banal. Have you ever had a sexual fantasy while in church? Have you ever touched a client more than was necessary? Have you put off having children because you’re worried that your marriage won’t last?

    Now first of all, I’ve heard that men have something like 12-25 sexual fantasies a day. So how in the world could any guy be expected to make it through an entire hour-long church service without? Second, you need to define the word "necessary" before it’s possible to determine what touch is or isn’t. And finally, when on the brink of becoming a parent, isn’t it normal — healthy, even — to question whether or not your marriage will last. . . .especially if you’re the sort of person who will go on national television to talk about intensely personal things.

    These questions strike me as tedious and rhetorical. I mean, do you walk up to strangers on the street and ask them if they masturbate? Or if they pick their nose while driving. No (I hope). You simply assume that they do. But it is not in your nature — certainly it is not in mine — to solicit the details.

    And what have we come to if this is considered entertainment?

    I’ll tell you what I came to: I came to the point where I needed to cleanse. Say you spent an evening eating cotton candy and drinking root beer (again, I shudder); you’d need to spend the next day ingesting nothing but raw carrots and hot tea in order to undo the damage you’d done.

    The same goes when the damage is psychic. Watching Moment of Truth was so sullying, in fact, that I needed to spend the rest of the evening talking seriously to my daughter about dignity (she was thrilled); listening to Mozart; and drinking a $70 Burgundy.

    The Givry 1er Cru 2005 is made by Domaine Joblot. It has 13% alcohol and is a deceptive wine: so smooth at first it seems simple, like a single, ripe, ruby fruit. But if you pay attention, you’ll find hints of lavender, rose, and nutmeg within the soft cherry base. As you drink and the wine breathes, it seems almost to wink: elements of orange zest, allspice, and just a breath of musk come zinging through. This is a vintage that was made for age: experts say the Givry 1er Cru may be cellared — and will continue to improve — for up to 15 years.

    Still, I’m not sorry I drank it all, rather than waiting for 2023. I needed it as an antidote to the sleazy stream of "truths" I heard the other night. I’m hoping in 15 years the reality TV craze will have died down, and that when my daughter and I sit down together — she at 28 and I at 56 — it will be over a bottle of something equally as nice.

  • Blue Door: A Door to the Future?

    I was definitely feeling something at the end of Blue Door, but it wasn’t necessarily satisfaction. I was left with a lingering something: a desire to probe the questions asked by the play, but also the need to challenge some of its core ideas. Perhaps it was Tanya Barfield’s intention to make her audience squirm a little, to make us slightly uncomfortable about the way we view race and race relations. However, when the play concluded and the protagonist, Lewis, finally seemed to embrace his heritage, I wasn’t ready to embrace it with him.

    In Blue Door, Lewis (who is played by David Eulus Wiles), is an African American math professor who has found himself unsettlingly alone after his white wife divorced him because he refused to participate in the Million Man March. As he paces around his house, trying to resist the insomnia that plagues him, he is visited by the spirits of his ancestors (all played by Eric Avery). These ancestors try to get Lewis to acknowledge his roots and embrace his "blackness."

    My main beef with the play is that education, success, and productivity seemed to be equated with "denying one’s blackness." It made me uncomfortable to see Lewis’ ancestors admonishing him for being involved in "white academia." Yes, Lewis took his pursuit of excellence to an extreme, but I did not think he deserved such harsh abuse. I was left wondering, "Where is the middle ground? Can’t a person be both black and successful?"

    To be fair, as a white woman I can never exactly see the world in the same way that an African-American man might see it. I cannot relate to the experience Lewis had when a fellow professor stared at his hands as if afraid that he might strike her with them. I cannot imagine what it must be like to be burdened with a history of whippings, lynchings, and back-breaking labor. I do not, however, think it is wrong for Lewis to study mathematics and read Herman Melville. Furthermore, Melville hailed from a time when women were oppressed as well. Why can women today read literature from male-dominated time periods and dabble in the traditional spaces of white men without feeling guilty?

    Don’t get me wrong. I think it is important to acknowledge who you are and to remember your roots and family history. I also think we stand on the shoulders of our ancestors and we should not be afraid to reach for bigger and better things. I do not honestly believe that Tanya Barfield meant to say that African Americans should not be successful, but I think she was simply too hard on Lewis. There was a schism between her characters that was much too sharp. One the one hand, there was Lewis, a hard working, intelligent, very successful math professor who refused to acknowledge his blackness. On the other hand, there was Rex, Lewis’ not-so-successful brother who died of a drug overdose. Where was the character that was both black and successful? In the end, Lewis seemed to finally "get it" and stopped repressing his past. At this point, however, he had already messed up his teaching career because paranoia about his blackness in a white world provoked him to yell at an innocent student.

    Although I didn’t necessarily agree with some of its assertions, Blue Door did have some heart-wrenching, conscience-jerking moments. Lewis’ ancestors spun poignant tales about struggling in a cruel and overwhelmingly white world. Avery did an excellent job portraying the hardships of Lewis’ ancestors and the unjust treatment of African Americans as slaves and as "free" men. His performance was most haunting when he sang in a stunning, clear voice the Ancestor’s Song. "Baba agba, iya agba,mo pe o." Grandfather, Grandmother, I call on you.

    Despite its pessimistic tone, Blue Door ended on a somewhat positive note. Lewis finally manages to acknowledge and make peace with the ancestors that haunted him throughout the play. Instead of struggling against his inner voices, Lewis gives in and starts working in cadence with his ancestors as they paint a door together, singing with each stroke. Lewis finally grasped the importance of his heritage, but I left hoping that he would also not deny his own success-filled past. A blue door is said to keep the night terrors out, but you have to leave the house sometime.

  • Frozen Butts & Boost

    (e.d. This is a well-considered weigh-in on the beauty of boost. I experienced this in heavy doses last night. Kurt Nelson is a top-notch ski-racing coach who knows more than me about horizontal and vertical speed. Pictured: The terror of all turbos—the Porsche 935.)

    “There is no replacement for displacement” — that hackneyed
    old saying that those who love the big Detroit iron like to chant when the
    subject of turbocharging comes into the conversation. Sure — as Chris spoke about a while back with
    regard to thrust — a tuned V8 will give you prodigious thrust, but what really gives
    you a kick in the ass is boost. Mash the
    throttle in the mid RPM range, wait just a second for the turbo to spool, and
    hold on. Now, that is driving. Power is
    not linear, like in a normally aspirated engine; it spikes with a kick that leaves
    most cars in the dust, wondering how that sedan just did what it did.

    And speaking of SAAB Turbos

    Above: Pike’s Peak SAAB Turbo. K’s ride shares the same genes.

    With the dense cold air that has invaded us during the past couple
    of days, the turbo really shines. More
    air in means more air out, and that is what boost is all about: air flow. Cold air is much more dense than warm, which
    is why getting on the go peddle in the cold is so much more fun in winter — if
    only my snow tires would grip more. Open
    the air intake, increase the size of the exhaust, and you have an immediate
    increase in drivability. The turbo
    spools much more quickly, and the intercooler does not soak as much heat with
    repeated bursts of boost. Just today,
    for example, with the ambient temperature of about 0, I was able to get the
    tires to break loose in four gears, spinning madly in the first two, and chirping
    with three and four. Full boost in three and four is
    about 21 lbs, at 4000 rpm, tapering to a sustained 17 lbs up to redline, and
    that translates to about 120 mph. Try as
    I may, I just do not have the oomph to get them loose in fifth, but
    the Saab pulls hard until 150 mph, so that’s cool.

    So, next time you are thinking that you need a bunch of
    cylinders to give you the power you think you need, guess again. My little 2.3l gives me 130hp per liter. Try to find a normally aspirated engine that
    gives that type of output. As Chris can
    attest, from a little test drive last night, turbo charging rocks.

  • Tank-Like Titilation

    As I mentioned before, my 166 piece photo library from the national automotive museum in Alsace is unweildly for online use. I focused mainly on potrait shooting of the most amazing vehicles on the planet–like this very early racing Bugatti from the 1920s.

    I’d show you some photos of the Royale (the rarest and most expensive car in the world) but the lighting was terrible–at least for my phone camera. But heck, I consider the "tank" shot above pretty good for a phone camera. And I’ve never minded titilation.

    P.S. If your tastes run modern, here’s clip of an M3 and an Veyron dragging it out (I have a pic of a Veyron but who cares.)

    ERRATA!!!: In my previous post, I said that Ettore Bugatti’s Dad was a celebrated sculptor–alas, it was his brother, Rembrandt. (Does AP suggest the use of stitled words like "alas"?. Anon.)

     

  • Restaurant Redux Part 2

    Did that last post inspire you to gather your recipes and put together a business plan? Have you been thinking "I throw great dinner parties and I make a heckuva salsa, why don’t I open my own Tex-West place?"

    Whoa there, Nelly. There’s more to it than you think. Thank goodness the BBCA is around to provide you with the proof.

    Last Restaurant Standing is a new show in which 9 amateur food lovin’ couples try to open and run their own restaurants. They’re judged by a panel of "inspectors" who’ll dole out challenges to the three lowest-rated (unlike real inspectors who’ll just pad-lock your doors like they did a few weeks ago to the new cowboy in town).

    What could happen? Water pipes might burst over the newly set room just weeks before opening (that happened last month) or the armored car could get lost and just give up for the day, leaving you with no cash on hand (that happened last year). Through all the pressure and inevitable foibles, the teams must outlast each other for a chance to win backing by Raymond Blanc for their own, real restaurant. If they still want one by then.

    Grab a sneak peek on Feb 7th at 8pm.

  • The Three Pointer: Two Straight

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

    Game #41, Home Game #19: Phoenix 107, Minnesota 117

    Season record: 7-34

    1. About That Small Lineup…

    I can argue that three players are operating away from their natural position, that the defense is terrible, that opponents who play fundamentally sound "playoff style" basketball will destroy them, and that this is clearly not the best way to build for the future. But coach Randy Wittman and any other proponent of the small lineup the Wolves have been trotting out lately can offer up a pretty strong rebuttal: With Al Jeffeson at center flanked by Ryan Gomes and Rashad McCants as the forwards and the dual-point backcourt of Marko Jaric and Sebastian Telfair comprising the starting five, Minnesota’s record is 3-3. With every other lineup, the mark is 4-31.

    During tonight’s whupping of Phoenix–the game wasn’t nearly as close as the 117-107 final margin–the Wolves certainly didn’t play "small." They completely dominated the battle of the boards, essentially splitting the rebounds of their own misses (grabbing 22 offensive boards versus the Suns’ 23 defensive rebounds) while owning their defensive glass by margin of 26-3. The backcourt fed the paint: Jaric and Telfair had a combined assist-to-turnover ratio of 18/2, while the frontcourt was merely 6/6, and the Wolves racked up 56 points in the paint (versus 44 for Phoenix) and 26 second chance points (to Phoenix’s 6). Oh, and for the second time in three meetings this season, "center" Al Jefferson absolutely destroyed "center" Amare Stoudemire when the Wolves had the ball.

    More than any game thus far this season, Jefferson played offense with a killer instinct. The raw numbers are pretty revealing: 39 points, 14 free throws, 8 offensive rebounds. Stoudemire was helpless. Or, better put, the Suns starting giving him a lot of help, with as many as two or three others collapsing on Jefferson when he received the rock, and it really didn’t matter. If for some reason Jefferson didn’t succeed at first, he got the ball back and tried again. The dude finished with 29 FGA (making 15) and 14 FTA (making 9) and it didn’t feel like he was hogging the ball. That’s when you know you are having fun.

    A brief pause here, while I drop a fly in the punchbowl. Jefferson’s utter lack of defense was nearly as monumental as his voracious offense. Stoudemire was 14 of 16 from the field and one of his two misses was a meaningless trey chucked with three seconds left in the game. He scored 33 points in the 29:40 that Jefferson was guarding him, which is why Jefferson finished the game with a team-worst minus -4. That doesn’t change the fact that Jefferson was the dominant force in a Wolves’ victory, because he most indisputably was. But it does neatly encapsulate the spectacularly half-assed season Jefferson is putting together. Okay, let’s move on.

    In fact let’s conclude this first point by giving Wittman the chance to explain why he likes the small lineup, in response to a postgame question from the PiPress’s Rick Alonzo. "I just like the spacing with Ryan at the 4 and with having our two ball-handlers in the backcourt, not turning the ball over." Earlier, Witt had opined that flexing Gomes between the 3 and the 4 may have something to do with his current resurgence: "He can get open more easily on the perimeter with a 4 on him, and he can post up more easily on a 3."

    2. Kudos Chorus Line

    However Gomes is stepping up his game, it sure is fun to watch. Wittman mentioned two "huge" shots he made, a left-handed flip from 5 feet out cutting across the lane late in the third period, and a baseline jumper midway through the 4th quarter, both of them after Phoenix had cut the lead to 11 and were threatening to get it beneath that psychologically important double-digit deficit. For me it was the way Gomes mixed it up in the area from directly underneath the hoop out to the sidelines; keeping rebounds in play, chasing after loose balls, making the right interior pass, constantly moving without the ball, and laying a body on his man on defense. It seemed fairly obvious that Shawn Marion mailed this one in–he attempted just three shots and grabbed three rebounds in 32:33–but Gomes’s dogged demeanor successfully encouraged that malaise. Put it this way, when Marion’s matchup outscores him by 7, outrebounds him by 6, and gets just as many steals, blocks and assists, the Suns’ odds of winning drop dramatically.

    Kudos also go out to Marko Jaric, the man I have nominated to head to the bench in favor of a center Chris Richard. Wittman has done exactly the opposite, sitting Marko a grand total of 3:48 *combined* the past two games. And in those two victories, Marko has compiled remarkably similar stats, registering 15 points, 8 rebounds and 10 assists tonight after going for 16-8-10 versus Golden State on Monday. For a man who hates to come out and pouts when he isn’t playing and/or the team is losing, Marko needs to cherish the current harmonic convergence of his Iron Man status (others include superrapper Ghostface Killah and comic book superhero Tony Starks, neither of whom have supermodel Adriana Lima at his elbow) on a team with a winning streak, however modest. Life is good, even when the thermometer says -16.

    Kudos also to the trio coming off the Wolves’ bench, and to Wittman for keeping the rotation down to 8. How many times have we seen the Wolves and their opponent feel each other out, play on relatively even terms, and then have the opponent explode for a 10 or 12 point splurge in the second quarter to open up a formidable gap that essentially dictates the course of the game from there on out? Wasn’t that pretty much what happened when Minnesota travelled to Phoenix less than a week ago? Well tonight it went the other way, the way of the Wolves, and the splurge-makers were the subs, Corey Brewer, Antoine Walker, and Craig Smith.

    I must confess that I still cringe when Brewer goes up for a jumper. But unlike, say, Bassy Telfair, who seems to weigh the validity of his missive on the shot-selection chart even as he is leaving his feet, Brewer continues to play as if he knows damn well what is or isn’t a good shot, and if it’s a good shot in the flow of the game, then he’s going to take it. And guess what? Tonight’s 6-11 FG makes him 38-82 over the last 16 games (a pretty solid sample size), which is 46.3%, or better than the NBA average of 45.3%. Yeah, the fact that he hasn’t hit a trey since Dec. 11 makes that eFG% pretty paltry, but paltry is two or three levels better than the clanging albatross stage when he couldn’t make 30% of his shots for nearly three weeks.

    Just as he put invisible training wheels on Gerald Green’s game when the two shared the court a few weeks back, Antoine Walker is mentoring Brewer in ways large and small lately. ‘Toine knows, even if Brewer doesn’t, that the thin rook’s biggest flaw is shooting, and so tonight he laid at least three or four shots for Corey on a platter, mostly in transition, in the form of dishes for bunny jumpers, or on a drive-and-kick to the corner, and once on a very sweet feed that Brewer, the throttle all the way down, couldn’t help but to rise up and slam through the hoop. Then ‘Toine would twinkle-toes his way back upcourt, secure in the knowledge that the experiences he was generously doling out were accumulating karma points that, in all fairness, should be paid out in the form of a trade to a contender before next month’s deadline expires. The man has done his penance for gluttony, or whatever sins troubled the fevered brow of Pat Riley down in Miami, who, speaking of karma, is currently riding a 14-game losing streak. Anyway, as much as he likes to feign delight in rearing players up here on the frozen tundra, young’uns who were four
    th-graders when he first broke into the league, you know ‘Toine itches for a meaningful hardwood milieu come May and June, perhaps for a playoff team in need of postseason experience who plays in a warm clime, such as Orlando. No doubt he has been a boom-or-bust commodity thus far this season, but when he’s on he can be a maestro, orchestrating the development of potential into performance–Brewer was plus +13 in the 21:40 he played alongside ‘Toine tonight and minus -2 in the 8:15 he played without him. And even when he’s off Walker remains a highly respected presence in the locker room and a good-vibes pom-pom guy on the bench.

    3. Hype On the Horizon

    The next game is the Celtics, in Boston. We have a tendency to focus on Garnett, obviously, but in terms of the Timberwolves, the team’s two best players, Jefferson and Gomes, are going back to the only NBA home they ever knew before this season, and to a rabid fan base that will dole out the love and hate with vigor. The won-lost records offer a strong rebuke to the current worth of Jeff and Gomes, one I imagine they will be very determined to counter. Assuming Witt maintains his version of smallball, that puts Jefferson on Kendrick Perkins, an opponent he surely has faced, and bested, many times in practice; and Gomes on KG, who is larger and faster, etc, etc. How do you match up Marko and McCants on Pierce and Ray Allen? It doesn’t seem like it will be pretty, but then again the C’s have hit a bit of a trough–they lost to Toronto at home tonight–and the Wolves, well, these Wolves are playing better than ever before. Or, as Wittman says, We’ve beaten the best team in the West (at least record-wise) twice now, let’s see if we can beat the best team in the East.

  • "There is no strong performance without a little fanaticism in the performer." —RWE

    ART & PERFORMANCE
    Performance
    (career ender)

    Claude
    Wampler     hates the word "performance." She believes in muddling the
    line between audience and "performer" as much as possible, and testing
    the boundaries of the stage. She is known for giving the visual
    arts a theatrical twist, and often treats her audience like actors. For instance, in her show Bucket, Wampler hired attractive people
    to sit in the audience and walk out in a huff during the show to test the audience’s
    commitment. Her show at the Walker is entitled Performance
    (career ender)    ,     because she is fascinated with the concept of "going
    out with a bang." She invented the show with the thought, "if
    I had to make a final piece, what would it be?" What will it
    be? There’s only one way to find out… —Kate Leibfried

    8 p.m., Walker Art Center, 1750 Hennepin Ave., Minneapolis; 612-375-7600; $20.

    SPECIAL EVENT
    Chinese New Year Spectacular

    A
    feast for the senses, the Chinese New Year Spectacular is in full gear this evening
    at Northrup Auditorium. Over one-hundred artists will come together
    to create one firecracker of an event. Come, not only for the skilled
    dancers and musicians, but also for the beautifully crafted, dazzling
    costumes. The Chinese New Year Spectacular is put on by the Divine
    Performing Arts of New York    , an exciting new company receiving rave
    reviews in New York City. We are lucky to be hosting them in Minneapolis,
    but make haste! The Chinese New Year Spectacular is playing for
    one night only, and tickets are bound to go fast. —Kate Leibfried

    7 p.m., Northrop Auditorium, 84 Church St. S.E., Minneapolis;

    652-393-2837; $38-$120.

    MUSIC
    Vampires, Beasts, and Deacons

    Check out First Ave for a solid triple bill, starting with Minneapolis newcomers Vampire Hands. This quartet of longhairs delivers a visceral wallop of noise-boogie intensity, heavily steeped in ’70s Stooges-esque proto punk. Gay Beast’s jagged rhythms, complicated interplay and deadpan panic approximates a sort of diseased musical articulation, and their crazy dynamics should sound great in the main room. Baltimore’s Dan Deacon headlines along with some weird audio/visual deal called Ultimate Reality. It’s described as a collaborative DVD, performance, and "Dominant Pansexual Ubermyth." Not sure what that means, but it sounds like it’s gonna be pretty cool. —Christopher Hontos

    6 p.m., First Avenue, 701 First Ave. N., Minneapolis; 612-332-1775;     $10.

    BOOKS & AUTHORS
    Hari Kunzru: My Revolutions

    Having adopted an alias, Michael Frame, the character at the center of My Revolutions
    is living a carefully constructed life of suburban mediocrity, hiding
    his radical history from a capitalist career wife and a stepchild who
    dreams of nothing more romantic than a gig as a corporate lawyer. As
    always seems to happen in such stories—whether in real life or
    fiction—ghosts come calling and Frame is dragged back into the past.
    That’s admittedly a tired premise, but Kunzru—one of Granta’s “Twenty
    Best Fiction Writers Under Forty”—has a pretty good track record at
    making something stylish and memorable out of unpromising material. His
    previous novels, The Impressionist and Transmission, seemed like cool, logical outgrowths from his work at Mute Magazine, a nifty British rag that focuses on the exploration of globalization and “network societies.” From the sound of things, My Revolutions is a sort of ambitious departure, and a meditation on the fluidity of time, identity, ideology, and necessity. —Danielle Cabot

    Available today in bookstores nationwide.

    ART
    The Best Local Illustrators

    This evening is the official opening of the latest CVA Gallery exhibit, described by Rake illustrator Hugh Bennewitz as "the first serious illustrator show in the twin towns in some time." Illo.Minn features work by more than 25 Minnesota illustrators — along with some fabulous boxed wine and other great things, I hear.

    6-8 p.m., The CVA Gallery, 173 Western Ave., at the corner of Western and Selby avenues, St. Paul.