Category: Letter

Father Thomas Buffer’s diary [“Father, Forgive Them,” May] comes off more as a bitter diatribe against the press and modernism than as any real answer as to what to do with priests who violate the trust of children. To imply that “homosexual priests have gotten sexually involved with boys under 18” due to societal acceptance of homosexuality and a modernist, liberal society is so spurious as to be laughable. Millions of people are exposed to these same cultural changes, yet they don’t become pedophiles or ephebophiles. The real issue here is that there are professions in our society that need to be as above reproach as is humanly possible. Teachers, physicians, social workers, psychologists, and the clergy—we put complete faith and trust in their hands. It is bad enough that someone in these professions would violate an adult’s trust. It is even more insidious when the trust of a child is violated, especially because children are obviously dependent on adults for nurturing and direction. It is my experience that the vast majority of priests, rabbis, and pastors are good and decent people who minister to their people with concern and kindness. However, it is articles like this that further reinforce the perception that the church hierarchy is not really concerned about addressing this most troubling of problems. Sanctimonious attacks on the press and the evils of a modern society do nothing to improve the situation.

Scott Cullen-Benson
Oakdale

Mr. Collins needs to know that this trash problem isn’t just concentrated in northeast Minneapolis. It’s all over the city, and it’s getting worse. When I first moved here, Minneapolis was described as “the most European city in the U.S.” In the quarter century I’ve lived here, I’ve seen that description deteriorate, as the city grows into a collection of neighborhood landfills, as Mr. Collins describes them. I’ve even seen the air quality deteriorate to the point where I’m not certain how much longer I can survive here.

Steven LeVigne
Minneapolis

I was a young kid from St. Paul’s East Side when I first stepped into The Scholar one night. This was about in 1965. I remember vividly the rich scent of incense and herbal tea. And I also recall, as it was in the evening, the dim lighting with reddish hues. The eclectic, young, beatnik folk scene made an indelible impression on me—to this day I look to that very spot where The Scholar once stood on the West Bank longing for a glimpse into its past.

Bob Arcturo
St. Paul

Stories? Stories are boring. They’re also bourgeoisie — just one more opiate known to give a brother brain damage. And brain damage on the mic don’t manage. My dear old pappy used to while away long car trips analyzing passages from Lacan as they related to the popular culture of the day. We might be journeying into the farmlands to ironically appreciate cows or maybe we’d be going to here a guest lecture from Stephen Greenblatt at the local public university. He’d smile smugly, lower the volume on the Pussy Galore cassette in the car stereo, and address me: “Post-gendered subject. Have you ever considered the mirror stage image as it relates to Kip Winger?” Yeah maybe the ol’ man was a little aloof, but beneath that gruff Midwestern exterior was a need to engage me in the political and social culture I was immersed in. This is something you don’t really get from the wan pabulum of narrative. It is also, by the way, the role of an alternative magazine in a deadeningly overcommodified momosociety. So cut the NPR crap and let Steve Perry drop some poli-science.

Jon Dolan

Reader Feedback on: The Hat-Stretching Hangover

Pickle juice!!! A primary metabolite of alcohol is acetaldehyde and the cooked vinegar found in pickles helps “push” this unfriendly acetaldehyde molecule into the next stage of metabolism. Recent research also indicates that PJ helps improve atheletic performance, probably by helping your muscles rid themselves of lactic acid in a similar fashion…

PS – Please don’t publish my email address, spam me, etc. Thanks for the great Dylan article, btw.

Dear Rakemagfolks,
Athens Cafe (it’s actually more Lebanese style) in Robbinsdale has the BEST falafel in the Twin Cities, not to mention killer kofta and kebob. If you don’t mind the strip mall atmosphere, you will certainly not be disappointed. The restaurant is located at 4080 W Broadway (41st & Hwy 81). I eat here at least once a week and have yet to grow tired of it. I recommend that it be added to your list.

You may also wish to consider adding the Red Dragon in Mpls to your list, based solely upon the virtue of their behemoth Polynesian cocktails. Keep up the fresh media and I’ll keep reading.

Jason Clauson
iridescentends@yahoo.com

My name is Ken Gordon, and I’m a Boston-based freelancer. I’ve written for Boston Magazine, The Forward, Salon, Tikkun, and a whole slew of other pubs, and I have no ideas–not a single freakin’ one–for The Rake.

So why am I writing? Well, I had to. Between your witty editorial guidelines, Steve Perry’s column on Lisa Beamer, and Nathan Rabin walking out of the David Copperfield show, I think you guys are onto something. So much so that I spent a good 10 minutes thinking, “What the hell do I know about Minnesota? Um, Garrison Keillor? Prince? Ice fishing?” In the end, all my “ideas” sounded pretty damned unpublishable. And unless you want, say, “A Northeasterner’s Media-Fed Perception of Minnesota,” I thought it would be best for me to toss my pitches in a different direction.

Guess I just wanted to say that I admire you for launching a new publication in our Godzilla-eats-dog economy. I hope The Rake rakes it in–and that, a year from now, you won’t be writing to editors: “My name is Tom Bartel, and I’m a Minnesota-based freelancer.”

Best of luck.

Ken Gordon

Where might I obtain a print of the artwork accompanying the article “The Hat Stretching Hangover” (The Rake, April 2002, pg. 34)? I would be willing to spend a reasonable amount of pennies to do so. It would look great framed on the wall of the cocktail lounge in my basement. Mind you, I’m not rich (even though I have my own private lounge) so I kindly ask that you do not milk me on this one. Much obliged.

Jason Clauson

An article was posted on your web site quoting me [Native Son, April 2002]. It stated that I agreed that 200 or so interviews for Lisa Beamer was reasonable. I remember our conversation well. I told you that I would estimate 20, perhaps 30 interviews. You have printed an absolute lie! I suggest that you print a correction in your next issue and send me a copy or I will take this matter to our attorney.

Helen Cook
The B & B Media Group, Inc.

Steve Perry responds: I have my notes from our phone conversation. It’s true that you initially said Lisa Beamer had spoken to about 30 media organizations—many of them multiple times, you added. I then said it was the latter number I was interested in: How many times in all has she spoken to people from media? You said you were unsure, and asked if I could phone back later after you had checked. I did, and you were still unsure. So I suggested the figure of 200. You indicated that might be a little high. So, I replied, what then? 150? 100? No, you finally said, 200 was probably a reasonable number so long as I took care to present it as an estimate. Which I did.

After a two-year obligation to the “Peacetime Army” I ended up at the U of M, continuing as a junior in Liberal Arts. It was 1957, but my real education was at The Scholar. I have no bones to pick with either Bobby Zimmerman or Bob Dylan and anyway it matters not a jot what I might think of him/them. What I do find sleazy and irresponsible is your treatment of Scholar owner Clark Batho [“Desire Revisited,” April 2002] whom you assassinate as “a distrusted and despised character” on the word of others who were at that time distrusted by many of us. I would describe Batho simply as a character—which he was in every sense of the word—and that would have been true and sufficient. It may interest you to know that Clark Batho has responsibly grown and sold Christmas trees in Southwest Minneapolis for at least 15 years, and is a much more solid person than your brief, slanderous phrase leaves us with.

Bill Savran, owner
The West Bank’s now-extinct
Savran’s Books