The Rake Magazine

Category: Blog Post

  • Another Award for W.A.

    There’s nothing new here. W.A. Frost has been winning awards for years: from Wine Spectator, Gourmet, various local publications, and Zagat. The newest honor is from Wine Enthusiast Magazine — an award of "unique distinction" for Frost’s nearly Bible-size wine list. And it’s well-deserved.

    But what strikes me about this restaurant is that. . . .well. . . .there’s nothing new here. And yet, it’s hip. Whereas other vintage eateries with cozy fireplaces and ropes of twinkly Christmas lights veer toward the quaint and precious, W.A. Frost can pull it off. Yes, this is the sort of place where I could take my 70-year-old mom (and she’d love it). But it’s also a popular date spot, and the lounge — with its tin ceiling and stately oak-and-marble bar — is a terrific place to cluster over warm hors d’oeuvres and wine.

    Prompted by this latest award, I did exactly that, stopping in one night when the snow was sifting down outside. I met a friend and we ordered two flights: a triad of Grüner Veltliners, from Austria; and a matching set of California Zins. The flights were $12 apiece for three very healthy pours.

    The gru-vees (as Frost’s wine list calls them) included:

    Nikolaihof "Hefeabzug" Wachau 2006 — a biodynamic wine with a strong water base, touched with the flavors of teak, straw, and yogurt, with a finish of orange and peach.

    Hirsch "Trinkvergnügen #5" Kamptal 2006 — a clean, dry, ever-so-slightly fizzy wine from the Kamptal area that tastes vegetal, like sweet pea, and has a hint of wet rock

    E & M Berger Kremstal 2006 — a hearty white with the salty taste of sweat (I mean this in a good way: like when you kiss a baby on the neck), plus a little celery and tree

    The Zinfandels were a more ordinary lot:

    Stephen Ross Dante Dusi Vineyard Paso Robles 2003 — a thick red with lots of cigar (leaf, tobacco, and smoke), wrapped in black cherry and spice, with a full finish

    Rosenblum Cellars, San Francisco Bay 2005 — a lighter wine with layers of soft plum, cherry, soil, and faint chocolate notes

    Alexander Valley Vineyards "Sin Zin" 2005 — a slightly yeasty and pedestrian red filled with cedar, black pepper, licorice, and fruit

    I’m usually actually fonder of a glass (or bottle) than a flight, because I like to concentrate on a single wine — and then on the conversation at hand. Had I been in a more prosaic mood that night, Frost certainly could have accommodated my every desire. Their 18-page list offers everything from a $26 Riesling to a $350 Sicilian red. And individual glasses range from $6.75 for a Blanco Protocolo to $18 for an Alexander Valley Cab.

    Sitting in the bar at Frost under soft lantern light, watching the snow fall gently on Selby Avenue, you might imagine you’re there to meet Zelda and F. Scott, only their carriage was slowed by the storm. Ignore for a moment the teenagers sitting next to you who are covered with body piercings and tattoos. They’re from another time.

  • The Cat's in the Corn with a Silver Tongue

    BOOKS
    We Really Are as Dumb as Vonnegut Suggests

    Bottom line: We lovely, brilliant people — however lovely, unlovely, brilliant or unbrilliant we may be — continually refuse to acknowledge our own stupidity and, therefore, perpetually threaten our own existence. There’s just no denying this. We continue to destroy our environment. We continue to exhaust our resources. And we continue to ravage each other and ourselves. This is nothing new. It wasn’t even new when Kurt Vonnegut began spelling it out for us in beautifully chaotic — to the point of perverse, some might say — stories back in the ’60s. Sure, it may have been a while since you’ve read his 1963 Cat’s Cradle — perhaps you never did — but you can still reap the rewards of tonight’s Books & Bars discussion and explore an important and relevant bit of American culture. Really, don’t let a little insecurity stand in your way; this is a good time, an engaging time, and time well spent. Of course, if you’re just one of those people that can’t handle being "unprepared," then you best stay in tonight and start reading Daniel Gilbert’s Stumbling on Happiness, so that you’re ready for next month’s meeting. (But why settle for schnapps when you can have whiskey?)

    7 p.m., Bryant Lake Bowl; 810 West Lake St., Minneapolis; 612-825-3737; free.

     

    FILM
    King Corn Nation

    Leave it to Hollywood to make corn absolutely horrifying. In the ’80s
    there was Children of the Corn; now there is King Corn, screening tonight and tomorrow night at the Oak Street. And although King does not depict demon children
    killing off their parents and paying homage to a corn god who lives
    among the ears, it is perhaps even more disturbing because it is a
    documentary. To clarify, however, I am by
    no means denying the fact that there may well be bloodthirsty corn gods
    somewhere in Indiana. In fact, King Corn does seem to ever-so-slightly suggest this. The documentary chronicles two friends, Ian
    Cheney and Kurt Ellis, fresh out of college at Harvard, as they travel
    back to Iowa to learn just how much the most productive and subsidized
    grain in America has taken over our nation — with potentially disastrous
    effects. One has to wonder, of course, if corn, which has successfully
    infiltrated almost every food product in our nation, should now be part
    of our cinematic experiences as well. But King Corn puts corn in a
    healthier place, out of our diet and into our movies. —Kate McDonald

    7:30 p.m., The Oak Street Cinema, 309 Oak Street SE, Minneapolis, 612-331-3134, $8.

    DVD RELEASE
    Two-Lane Blacktop

    This ’71 film could simply be described as an homage to guys behind the
    wheel. James Taylor plays the Driver. The Beach Boys’ Dennis Wilson is
    the Mechanic. Laurie Bird is the Girl. Together, they motor along Route
    66     in their ’55 Chevy. Along the way, they meet Warren Oates’s GTO and
    begin to race—with virtually no dialogue, no crazy editing to speed up
    the proceedings, and no danger or derring-do. Just driving, man. But
    Two-Lane Blacktop (and its makers) ran into a world of trouble.
    Although it was a critical favorite—Esquire even promoted it on the
    cover as its movie of the year—the film was a box-office bomb. Taylor
    and Wilson would never star in another movie. Bird defenestrated
    herself eight years later. And director Monte Hellman never made
    anything worth seeing again (e.g. Silent Night, Deadly Night 3). —Peter Schilling, Jr.

     

    THEATER
    Star Wars Meets Sweet Will Shakespeare

    It is perhaps slightly embarrassing that I know more about Michael Pennington as Moff Jerjerrod, commander of the Death Star in Star Wars, then I do of Michael Pennington, award winning member and leading actor of the Royal Shakespeare Company. However with Sweet William (now on a short and exclusive run at the Guthrie), Pennington attempts to make even his most juvenile fans (like me) as widely versed in Shakespeare’s life and works as they are with the crewmembers of a fictitious planet destroying space station. His one-man show (which has gotten rave reviews in the United Kingdom, including 4 out of 4 stars from The Guardian and The Times) serves as a Shakespearian crash course of sorts. The show not only includes the most famous scenes of Shakespeare’s plays but also then provides analyses of them. Pennington then weaves some of the playwright’s personal history into the mix for good measure. The result is a sweet, succinct work, just fascinating enough to make one momentarily forget about Pennington’s shady and less Shakespearian Return of the Jedi beginnings. —Kate McDonald

    7:30 p.m., Guthrie Theater’s McGuire Proscenium Stage. 818 South 2nd Street, Minneapolis. 612.377.2224. $25 – $45.

  • Zagat and the Wisdom of Crowds

    A couple of books have arrived in the mail recently -and set
    me to thinking about the role of critics – Zagat’s America’s Top Restaurants 2008, and
    Food & Philosophy: Eat, Think and Be Merry, edited by Fritz Alhoff and Dave
    Monroe (Blackwell Publishing).

    I opened the Zagat guide and turned to the Minneapolis-St.
    Paul section with sadistic relish, eagerly anticipating another opportunity to
    trash the plebian tastes of the great unwashed. Zagat’s ratings are compiled
    based on reviews from diners, and I’ve been pretty skeptical about reader
    restaurant surveys ever since the days when the readers of one local magazine
    ranked Leeann Chin as best Chinese. (If my memory is correct, they also rated
    McDonald’s as best burger.) Of course, most readers knew better, but the number
    who favored the Golden Arches was greater than the number who chose any other
    single candidate. In the latest survey, these readers ranked Big Bowl and PF
    Chang’s     in the top five for Chinese cuisine, showing that le plus ca change… –
    but I digress.

    To my great disappointment, I discovered that I really don’t
    have much of a beef with the top ten picks in the new Zagat guide. The highest
    score, 28 points for food, was a four-way tie between La Belle Vie, 112 Eatery,
    Restaurant Alma     and the Bayport Cookery, with Lucia’s, Vincent and D’Amico Cucina one
    point behind, followed by Manny’s, Heartland and Fugaise, tied with 26 points
    each.

    Of course, this is like comparing apples and oranges, but
    these are all respectable choices. You can’t really compare La Belle Vie, the
    112 eatery and Manny’s, but these three are all best of kind, or at least very
    good restaurants. I do have to admit that the last time I dined at La Belle
    Vie, sometime around hour three and course eight of a nine-round gastronomic
    blowout, I found myself getting a little bored, but that’s just me.

    The one major omission from Zagat’s Top 10 is Saffron, which
    I would put pretty close to the top of my list. Based on my most recent dining
    experience, I would also put Cosmos and maybe Wolfgang Puck’s 20.21 and Little
    Szechuan     in my top 10, but I am not sure which restaurants I would bump to make
    room – probably Manny’s, and maybe the Bayport Cookery.

    Zagat also lists ten "Other Noteworthy Places", including
    B.A.N.K., Chambers Kitchen, Cosmos, Cue, the Dakota, Oceanaire, Solera, Saint
    Paul Grill, Town Talk Diner,     and 20.21.
    These are also very deserving restaurants, mostly, though I would drop
    the Saint Paul Grill and the too-noisy Town Talk Diner to make room for some
    sentimental favorites: the Grand Café, Corner Table, and the Atlas Grille.

    By now, you are probably wondering what any of this has to
    do with the anthology of essays about food and philosophy. Well, the connection
    is pretty slender, but (WARNING: SHAMELESS SELF-PROMOTION AHEAD!) it just so
    happens that an essay of mine was included, titled "Who Needs a Critic: The
    Standard of Taste and the Power of Branding." (The original title was
    Gastroporn and the Power of Branding, but that sounded a little too kinky for
    something that might wind up on an academic c.v.) And it just so happens that
    in a couple of paragraphs somewhere in the middle of the essay, I mention
    Zagat. I’ll spare you the philosophical jargon and cut to the meat of the
    argument, which is that enterprises like Zagat are among the factors that
    undermine the authority of critics. If I may quote myself (and why not?; in the
    essay I quote David Hume and Charlie the Tuna):

    "What we are witnessing in slow motion is the collapse of a
    regime of (gastronomic) truth for which the daily newspaper served as a central
    instrument, and the ascendancy of a rival discourse in which advertising, brand
    and image are central…"The publishing empire of Zagat, which invites all of its
    readers to rate food, service and atmosphere on numerical scales and then
    publishes their scores, undermines the very premises of the taste hierarchy by
    treating all its reviewers as "authorized knowers.""

    Zagat is an interesting example of what James Surowiecki has
    labeled "the wisdom of crowds." Surowiecki, a writer for the New Yorker
    magazine, argues that the aggregated opinions of a large group of ordinary people
    are often a more accurate source of information than the judgments of experts.

    At any rate, quite apart from the philosophical
    thumb-sucking, there is an interesting question here: If part of what
    restaurant critics are supposed to do is to serve as reliable predictors of
    what restaurants their readers are most likely to enjoy, and if it turns out
    that a compilation of data from diners can predict those tastes with greater
    accuracy than a critic can, what role is left for restaurant critics?

    You might object that the aggregate judgment of Zagat’s
    guides can only reflect the judgments of its middle-brow reviewers, and that
    consumers with a more refined or exotic sensibility will still want to turn to
    Iggers or Bauer, but it’s really only a matter of time before the algorithms
    get a bit more sophisticated. Like Netflix, which can predict which movies you
    will like based on which movies thousands of others with similar taste profiles
    have enjoyed, Zagat’s legions, and smart software, will soon be able to offer
    more reliable advice than any one critic – especially one with a fixation on hole-in-the-wall Chinese eateries.

    So, what’s a critic to do? Maybe a better role for us is to
    be storytellers – but that’s another story.

  • Man Enough for Moon Patrol

    I submit my good friend Andy Goldman Gray’s thoughts on his beloved Aztek, supposedly penned while he was flying on Nyquil. He is VP Marketing at United Way, so contribute some of your thoughts (even money) in a professional capacity.

    When has something so maligned
    caused such a devoted following as the fateful Pontiac Aztek? I was
    recently trying to describe to The Road Rake why I love my car, even though my wife
    gets crap about it when she borrows it to bring something big to work.

    The ‘bleeding edge," is a concept that Road Rake introduced me to this summer. So I guess I am just beginning to clot from my purchase of this fine piece of "American Ingenuity."

    I
    had three main purchase requirements when I bought this car/truck/AMC Eagle on
    steroids: 1. Lots of buttons and gadgets, 2. Uncommon
    styling, 3. A second home in the event that my wife threw
    me out.

    It turns out that this car was one of the first
    "lifestyle" SUVs. Unfortunately, it came packaged in a really, really ugly
    box. Sure, you can put your bike on top of a Nissan Xterra, but the Aztek
    has a bed and tent built right in. This is why so many of the Aztek’s
    owners (secretly) champion their car. Car clubs, social networks, and
    local owners support groups have devoted a great deal of time to overturning this
    "worst car ever" tag.

    Get past the
    "moon patrol" facade, and it’s everything a man could love. Moon Patrol

    True story– my wife got a fortune cookie
    at Chino Latino that said, "If people were cars, you’d be a little red Corvette,
    unfortunately your date would be a Pontiac Aztek."     I think this was
    supposed to be sardonic, but I’m proud to be an Aztek owner.

    And my wife still loves me. You bet my sweet Aztek she does.

  • Another Death Sentence for Journalism

    NY Times media columnist David Carr told a sad tale today. It started out with him telling how the city of Chicago had just paid out $20 million to settle lawsuits by four former condemned men who had been tortured by police.

    He mentioned that, in essence, because of these men being tortured into confessing capital crimes, the death penalty for Illinois had been put on hold in Illinois by former Governor George Ryan.

    And he told the story that these men, and others like them, had been freed based on the reporting of John Conroy of the Chicago Reader.

    And then, Carr reported that Conroy and three others had just been laid off by the new owners of the Reader. The Reader’s companion paper, The Washington City Paper, where Carr was once editor, had also laid off five newsroom reporters. Declining revenue and the need to cut costs were cited, as usual.

    Good thing it happened last week, instead of a few years ago, or those men would be dead, and several Chicago police would have gotten away with murder.

    Now it’s journalism that’s on death row. It’s been put there by readers who don’t demand investigative work, and advertisers who don’t want anything to do with any story that involves more in depth reporting that asking people where they get their favorite hamburger.

    It’s only a matter of time. Soon we’ll have nothing but insipid city mags and so called newspapers whose business model doesn’t include any editorial that doesn’t pander to the lowest expectations of readers and the highest ones of advertisers. Add that to all the advertisers being sucked away from the actual content providers by the likes of Google, and it won’t be long until even more publishers push the plungers on their staffs.

     

     

  • Who Told?

    increase your dik size
    penile enlargement

    Clearly, the word has leaked out: I do not have a large penis. It’s true. But do I really need to be reminded every day by numerous emails? The initial sting aside, it’s quite touching (hands off, buddy!) to have countless strangers out there so terribly concerned about my sex life.

    Every day I check my email at work only to be reminded of my apparent failure to fully exploit the fabulous art of sex — proving, once again, how rewarding work can truly be. It goes something like this:


    i’d be scared too if my dick was that small http://www.icmbd.com/

    Great! One more thing to fear. Now I really won’t sleep (which means I’ll probably stay up and write more inane posts).

    M
    Eager to spend this holiday season like never before?
    Get ready for something particular on New Year!
    A

    Don’t be scared to change your life-style!
    I
    Celebrate the New Year’s day with a new bigger phallus!
    Keep in mind all our special offers! Check the details now!

    Reads rather like an E.E. Cummings poem, don’t you think? Ok. He would have done away with the exclamation points.

    Pen!s enlargement p!ll
    MegaDik may give you a perfect idea!
    Enlarge your male stick, and your New Year holidays will be hot and full of great s’e_x!

    I’d like a job with the marketing firm that chose that name. Please.

    Don’t feel shy of your instrument size
    All you have to do is just put to use our machine enlargement.
    Your sexual life will change promptly.
    http://www.carmsda.com

    Machine enlagement: It stretches. It pulls. It twists and turns. And at the end of the day your cock will be seriously swollen and your sex life will indeed change. And, yes, you will indeed be fucked. (Excuse the vulgarity, but what can you expect from a post like this?)

    You Dont please with your male organ size.
    Women joke at you.
    Now you can to solve this problem.
    Try our male machine enlargemen:t and Chicks will love you sure enough.
    I changed my sexual life. Now it is your turn.
    http://tofinoinfo.com

    Well, at least they’re acknowledging that I’m a man.

    Wazzup criscordova
    I had it eigth times last night thatnks to
    /i/gra
    http://basiclearn.com
    martha Washburn

    The contemporary version of writing on the bathroom wall… You go, girl!

    compliments criscordova
    I had it five times last night thanks to /i/gra
    http://followoperate.com


    Jake Cronin

    Compliments? Shit, Martha had it eight times; I must be losing my touch.

    Deep impressions are in store for you!
    Experience the freedom of inching away! <http://hagitec.com/>

    Inching away? How deep can you go in reverse? (Guess we should leave that one to vita.mn’s sex columnist.)

    deep penetration contributes to achieving an orgasm of Design Patterns http://www.tuffsched.com

    Hmmm… I always thought sex and acid didn’t quite mix, but I guess I was wrong.

    oh yes, intercourse is alot better now
    http://www.tuibgirl.com
    a book, you want a book, you want

    Now this I can relate to, but what man would understand?

     

    This is one of my favorites, of course:

    Yes, it’s true: fake orgasms humilate. In fact, made up words often humilate, too.

    Ok. Got to go. Got to check my email.

  • Are We All Crazy?

    Well, at about 6:45 p.m. on Saturday night, in the midst of a classic Seinfeld, my husband and I got out of our warm cocoon to get ready for the night — a holiday soirée for the Franconia Sculpture Park, hosted at Abitaré Design Studio.

    Now, understand, Howard works a lot, and a long time ago we both decided that if my job overlapped his down time, or vice versa, we would call a truce and only go with our partner out of support if the other one needed them there. Well, OK, I didn’t NEED Howard there, but I really wanted him there because he always has an interesting take on cultural events. 🙂

    When we first arrived at Abitaré, I was delighted to see my friend Robyne Robinson, who many know for her great work as the main anchor for FOX 9. What many don’t know is how passionate Robyne is for the arts. It is Robyne, after all, who created a "buzz" with her Buzz, which she spent many years doing on FOX 9, and which attracted many non-viewers who would tune in just to see who and what made the "buzz."

    Robyne is also a jewelry maker, and not just any kind of jewelry but extraordinary jewelry, one of a kind jewelry… semi-precious stone and pearl jewelry.

    Before Robyne made it in the front door I had my camera out and asked her and Howard for a quick "Cheese."

    As we walked in, my first mission was to meet Tom Bartel, who, as you all know, owns The Rake and is one of my new bosses.

    Without having to go far, I ran into Ted Mondale, whose sister Eleanor is one of my closest friends, and who is also responsible for making downtown St. Louis Park look super-hip. I told Ted that I wanted to meet my new boss, and it turns out that Ted had a job selling ads for City Pages while in college, so he knows Mr.Bartel and said he would take me over to meet him. Perfect introduction opportunity: Former grateful Employee and now successful politician. How could I go wrong, or in my case… right?

    With my camera and firm handshake in tow, I made a b-line for Mr.
    Bartel, who I caught (off guard) at the crafts table, making sculptures. I introduced myself.. took a snapshot and told myself, "that went well"… so I wouldn’t be distracted by the gnawing question of my first impression on my new boss.

     

    My husband surprised me…. and, I think, himself…… by enjoying the crowd of "Crazies" — Robyn Robinsons’ favorite word to describe all of us who are creators or fans of the creators.

    After meeting and speaking with the founders of Franconia Sculpture
    Park    , and watching the creativity from the "make your own scupture" table spawn a few other creative eneavors — like make your own wine glass concoction and silly hat — it was already time to go. 🙁

    I learned a lot about artists that night. I learned that not only are artists "crazy" — which I think I can safely say with a smile, because my Mom is one — but that we all are creators to some degree. Some of us create sculptures and works of art, while others of us just create something simple like a great batch of cookie dough or even something little….. like a humorous inside joke that CREATES smiles across a crowded audience — which came that night care of Robyne Robinson: "WE ARE ALL A BUNCH OF CRAZIES. COME ON, EVERYONE, YOU KNOW THAT I AM RIGHT!" Yep. A roar of laughter erupted across the room of artists, creators, publishers, fund raisers, and even a few from the area where the appetizers were being made. 🙂

     

  • Cover Your Heads

    Well, one highlight of the weekend was stopping by Anna Lee’s Ruby3
    trunkshow. As I mentioned previously, Ms. Lee is best known for her sculptural,
    showgirl-style hats, like this one, which she made of Big Bird feathers leftover from a production of Sesame Street Live:

     

    By the way, that’s the lovely Ms. Di Medlock of Electricoiffer
    demonstrating …

     

    Of course, these aren’t the most practical things-unless
    you find yourself invited to, say, a high-society British wedding. So, I was
    delighted to find the first of Lee’s Minnesota-friendly winter headdresses. Here, for example,
    is a very functional wrap:

     

    You can’t tell from the humdrum pic, but these are furry, rather outrageous things-statement pieces,
    if you will. But the best thing about ’em, if you ask me, is that the innards
    are made of fleece. No more pimply foreheads courtesy of an itchy collection of wool hats. I bought the blue one below. If you want your own, they’re available for purchase
    at the Design Collective.

     

  • The Leo Chronicles, Part I

    My younger brother Leo died of cancer this past Halloween. He was bedridden the last couple of months, but my aged parents and I were somehow able to keep him in his rather small 1-bedroom apartment in North Central Iowa until the very end. We wanted him at home where he could be with his cat and where we could prepare him for the afterlife.

    The people in my family are all members of a rather obscure sect found mostly in the rural Midwest called Crystal Methodists. Our beliefs occasionally seem strange to outsiders, so I thought I would write here about some of our quainter customs associated with the death of a loved one.

    The name for our church comes from our traditional representation of Jesus on the cross. He is depicted as having a large crystal in his navel, which if I remember correctly from confirmation class represents a figurative umbilical cord to God from whom he receives (and we all receive) spiritual sustenance while living on this earth. Many older Crystal Methodists wear a crystal in their navels as well, at least when they go to church, but most of the younger generation just get their nipples pierced.

    Our churchs, called "Labs," can be found scattered throughout the farmland of Iowa and Wisconsin. A Crystal Methodist Lab generally resembles a cross between a Christian Science reading room and a high school chemistry classroom, hence the name. We men somberly study the Bible in the reading rooms while the women cook up the sacrament and gossip about slutty women in other denominations. Our numbers have been reduced somewhat of late because our Labs occasionally blow up, killing the women and causing the men to use profane language. But so it goes; we phlegmatically remind ourselves that it is God’s will and remarry and build another Lab on someone else’s farm.

    One of the more interesting beliefs we have is that, no matter how good we are in this life, we Crystal Methodists aren’t going to Heaven per se. Heaven, we feel, is reserved for Catholics and Lutherans and frankly we’re a little miffed about it. We believe that if we faithfully follow the teachings of Jesus in this life and do God’s work, the best we can look forward to is a menial job in Heaven doing maintenance work for the more privileged residents. We are Heaven’s janitors and handymen. The Pearly Gate is squeaking, call a Crystal Methodist to oil it. The Lutherans want to have a (rather restrained) celestial orgy, guess who cooks the food and cleans up afterwards – the Crystal Methodists. We have a trailer park in Heaven where we live, and those of us who were the most devout in this life get standard cable. There are rumors that if you’re a Crystal Methodist and live the life of a saint here on earth, you get HBO when you die, but none of us really believe that.

    Oddly enough, our conception of Hell closely resembles our conception of Heaven except that in Hell you also have fallen arches, carpal tunnel syndrome and constant diarrhea. And the only channel you get in the trailer park is an eternal infomercial of Fitness Made Simple starring fitness celebrity John Basedow. Follow this link and Heaven starts to look a whole lot better, doesn’t it?

    In my next entry I’ll explain how we prepared my brother for his passing the Crystal Methodist way. Casseroles (what you Northerners call "hot dish") are involved, so don’t miss it.

  • Hoards of Voices

    Our new guest blog kicks off this week with vices, loss, and weird shit by Mark Hull. Some of you may know Mark from his existing blog, Hulles — sardonic postmodern humor, or from our August 2007 Rakish Angle, "Down and Out in West Saint Paul." We hope you’ll find his writing as witty and amusing as he does… and as we do, of course.

    Please give our guest bloggers plenty of feedback during their one-week stay, as your input will help determine who we ask back.

    Stay tuned…