Blog

  • Letters on Minnesota's Top 25 Celebrities of All Time

    Dear Rake Editors,

    Are you out of your alleged minds? Judy Garland is less famous than Josh Hartnett? Okay, maybe among twenty-somethings at this exact second, but the cover said "of all time." Let’s see if "Black Hawk Down" is an annual TV event 60 years from now. Let’s see if people can name the character he played in 2022, let alone 2062! You say that Hartnett is "not yet through with his first fifteen minutes" of fame. Are you sure he’ll get a second fifteen? Tick tock…

    I’m not even going to get started on the absurdity of some of the others you have above the immortal Ms. Garland.

    By the way, Al Franken’s (he also should have been higher on your list) movie "Stuart Saves His Family" was not "astonishingly bad." Either Roger Ebert or his co-host at the time (was Gene Siskel still alive then?) or both gave the movie a good review. So does the Video Movie Guide by Mick Martin & Marsha Porter. The film was a victim of the fallout from other truly awful SNL films released before it. People assumed it was another "It’s Pat" and didn’t bother to go see it and find out they were wrong. Is that what you did, too? You don’t have to like it, of course. There is no accounting for taste (hence the career of Tom Green), but calling it "astonishingly bad" is a bit harsh to say the least.

    D.M. Jordan

    Next page: Defending Robert Bly

  • More on Clinton Collins' column

    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

  • Kieran’s Irish Pub’s Letter of the Month

    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

  • All in the Family

    Clinton Collins suggests that all the littering in North Minneapolis is done by young, male African Americans [Free the Jackson Five!, May]. How does he come to this, dare I say, startling conclusion? The people in front of his house were young and black. Therefore, we shall presume his situation is universal for citizens of the North side. But of course this situation isn’t simply limited to this small demographic in Minneapolis. While living on both sides of town (as a result of shared custody), I have noticed trash everywhere. And not, as Collins would lead one to believe, just the areas where the African American population flourishes. Black kids do it, white adults do it. It is not a matter of age, race, or any other social category. When Collins claims that children of color use race as an excuse for littering, he does so without providing any clear proof. This unprompted rebuke of “black victimism” is very offensive, especially to those African American males like me who do practice cleanliness in our environment. I believe the issue my father wished to address is an important one, but his format for doing so was best described as a temper tantrum. He says, “I was mad as hell.” Sorry Dad, but you’re always mad as hell. You focus on a small percentage of people and unleash your unsupported opinions. To this I must say, “Whatchu talkin’ ’bout, Dadda?!”

    Joseph Clinton Collins
    Minneapolis Southwest High School

  • Race for the Cure

    Somalis and African Americans have to end the misunderstanding that exists between them [“I Against I,” May]. Every girl and every boy has to try to talk to each other. They have to believe the reality, not just what they feel or guess. Also, African American and Somali parents and elders have to work to solve this problem. Be peaceful. Remember: Life is in peace, and peace is in life.

    Halima Ali
    Advanced ESL Class
    Edison High School

  • Queen for a Day

    Thanks for your article about this inspiring woman, Nellie Stone Johnson [Native Son, May]. For the past two weeks we here in Britain have been drowning in sycophantic tributes to “the Nation’s Favourite Granny”—the dear old Queen Mum, most of whose 101 pampered years were devoted to flitting between her five homes, backing racehorses, drinking gin, and running up a £4,000,000 overdraft. It’s a pleasure to read about a woman of real achievement.

    Julia D. Atkinson
    York, England

  • More letters about Father, Forgive Them…

    God bless Fr. Thomas Buffer! We need more priests like him to question the accurancy of these reporters who will say anything to get a story. Judge not, lest you be judged. Have these people ever heard of the Ten Commandments? Shame on them. Keep up the good work, Father. I’m praying
    for you and every Catholic priest who stands hids ground. My own uncle is a Catholic priest, and there is no other man I look up to more.

    Sincerely,
    Tricia L.
    Cincinnati, OH

  • Babani’s Kurdish Restaurant

    Tucked away in downtown St. Paul (but then again, what isn’t invariably tucked away down there?), Babani’s is rumored to be the only Kurdish restaurant in the United States. (Quick geography lesson: Kurdistan is a mountainous region occupying 74,000 square miles in southeast Turkey, northwest Iran, northeast Iraq, and northeast Syria—with a population of 25 million people!) Fleeing a Kurdish refugee camp in Turkey, owners Tanya Fuad and Rodwan Nakshabandi arrived in Minnesota and worked at separate jobs until the opportunity to open Babani’s arrived. Meat lovers can enjoy exquisite fare, such as the tawa, featuring chicken sauteed in lemon and spices, baked potato, green pepper, and onion. Vegans will delight in the variety of meatless dishes, including dolmas, biryani, and the Sheik Babani. Forgo your dinner beverage of choice and order the Kurdish lemonade, a sweet thirst-quenching concoction. Perfect, if the weather ever warms up again. Babani’s (651) 602-9964

  • Key’s Cafe

    Going out for breakfast on a rainy Saturday morning, lingering over those third and fourth cups of regular old coffee, chatting with the pretty young waitress about the smell of the rain in spring and the striking beauty of her just-dyed hair—what could be nicer? Key’s Cafe on Raymond Avenue in St. Paul (at the University Avenue intersection) feels like a lucky find, something you can use as filler in conversation later with casual friends or to impress potential dates (“Well, actually, there’s this fabulous little one-of-a-kind breakfast spot I know if you don’t mind a short drive…”). But, alas, it’s just one franchise of nine metro cafes that your potential date probably already knows about. Oh well. But you can have a terrific plate of French toast, crispy hashbrowns, a variety of specialty omelettes, and pretty much every other necessary element of a tried-and-true breakfast diner, including a distinctly Minnesotan egg creation called the Loon Omelet, replete with wild rice, mushrooms, tomatoes, onions, and provolone, under a cream sauce graced with onions, garlic, white wine, and mushrooms. Last time we went, we hung out for two full hours and no one batted an eye, even though the place was packed and we ate lightly. But maybe that’s because we dared to ask the waitress just what it was she had done to her hair to make it so spectacular. What we didn’t bother to ask was why the women’s bathroom included a toothbrush and toothpaste on the soap counter. After all, a little mystery is a good thing. Key’s Cafe (651) 646-5756

  • Hell's Kitchen

    We descended on Hell’s Kitchen on a Monday, the four of us, expecting the hellfire and brimstone and everlasting chaos of a kitchen under siege. Or, at least, we envisioned the antipode to the white tablecloth, fresh-flower breakfast place. Why do we expect Hell to be so over-populated? Perhaps Salvation Sundays, with brunch from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m., attract a bigger, noisier crowd, confident the gospel music will perfume the multitude of sins right out of the air. This quiet Monday noon we could see right down to the paint-it-black-you-devil floor and the blood-red doors and the fiery licks around the edges. So we ate. We almost made a meal of great bread with salted butter—to hell with special diets—and sweet marmalade and jam and the freshest sort of peanut butter ever. Then we remembered we hadn’t yet become complete gluttons, so we continued with crab cakes and walleye and B.L.T.’s, ham and pears grilled with Swiss cheese, fries and fruit and the biggest, blackest, yes, blackberries you’ve ever seen. We could have made a meal of the side dishes and been no less sinful. So many forms of comfort food, so deceptively simple and tempting, we’ll undoubtedly return to sample more. If the scene is vaguely familiar, remember your last journey to Hell—your previous Night (there is a pungent Bloody Beer Mary to cure what ails you), or your secret tryst in the old Du Jour’s Casual Café. Same place, a couple of familiar faces (they always said that would happen down below), but an entirely new and rakish breakfast/lunch joint on the scene. Check out the art on the walls. It’s no sin to look. Hell’s Kitchen, (612) 332-4700