The Rake Magazine

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  • The Three Pointer: Coming Home to Roost

    Copyright 2008 NBAE (Photo by Melissa Majchrzak/NBAE via Getty Images)

    Game #60, Road Game #28: Minnesota 76, Utah 105

    Season Record: 12-48

    1. Giving Up

    Said Sebastian Telfair, "We had no energy, no intensity. We just kind of gave up." Said Kirk Snyder: "They grind it out. They just kept doing what they do and we kind of broke down." Said Randy Wittman: "We’ve got to go and get our edge back."

    In the 60th game of the season last year, the Wolves beat the Los Angeles Lakers 117-107 in double overtime to run their record to 27-33. Two years ago on Game 60 they also lost to the Jazz on the road–by three points, 93-96, to erode their record to 26-34. And three years ago they beat the Celtics, 93-90, to square their mark at 30-30. That history lesson is for all the folks, including owner Glen Taylor, who steadfastly claim that this year’s team has been so much more fun to watch than the previous years of ineptitude.

    2. The Plan For "Big Al"

    The Utah Jazz beat the Wolves into submission last night; beat them until the Wolves rolled over and put their collective tail between their legs. Last time I checked, the regular season ends April 16, exactly six weeks from yesterday. During that time, 22 games will be played. Seriously, what’s the plan between now and then?

    We’ve heard way too plenty about "Build It Together," with a different member of the front office trotted out on the advertising-free halftime show to inform the miniscule audience of masochists how much better things are going to be down the road. But beyond platitudes like "We’ll see who really wants to step up and who doesn’t," the strategic thinking for how to prepare and array this current roster–you know, the one everyone who bought into "The Blueprint For the Future" last season is now paying full price to witness–has not been so explicitly and relentlessly shoved down our throats.

    But we’ve certainly been given clues. The dumping of Theo Ratliff (reported savings to Glen Taylor, $2.5 million) and the sparse playing time for Chris Richard (whose plus +1 in a garbage-time abetted 19:04 last night was five points better than any other Timberwolf) indicates that Al Jefferson will continue to be played out of position at the center spot. Over at 82games.com, which probably hasn’t factored last night’s 29-point pasting into its data base, the numbers on Jefferson’s offensive performance at center versus power forward are not that different. He shoots a little more accurately (if a tad less often) at center, yet rebounds a little better, and commits fewer fouls and turnovers, at the power forward slot.

    But if you want to know why Jefferson has twice as much of an advantage over his fellow 4s (+10.5 in PER rating) versus his fellow 5s (+5.1 PER rating), check "Big Al"’s differing ability to defend centers as opposed to people more his size. The eFG% (which factors in three-pointers, not much of a consideration for centers and power forwards) for the power forwards Jefferson defends is 42.7%–pretty good D. The eFG% of centers against Jefferson is 57%–pretty horrible D.

    Is stockpiling centers that don’t play–even after buying out Ratliff, nearly half the Wolves’ seven-person bench is comprised of Richard, Madsen and Doleac–while throwing your best player and lone true cornerstone into a less natural and effective position, is that part of last season’s "Blueprint" or this season’s "Build It"?

    3. Around The NBA

    Spurred on by the fuzzy audio resulting from the Wolves simulcasting Hanneman/Petersen/McKinney’s Utah call over both TV and radio (due to illness sidelining the radio play by play man), I decided to keep listening to the audio of the Celts-Pistons game instead while watching the Wolves-Jazz. Then, during halftime and after the game, I flipped over to ESPN’s telecast of the Suns-Nuggets. None of this discouraged my against-the-grain opinions that the Celts will beat the Pistons if the two should match up in the Eastern Conference Finals, and that the Suns and Mavs are in a race to the bottom that could easily see one, and perhaps both, fail to make the playoffs.

    The Eastern Conference Finals prediction is admittedly complicated by the fact that I think the Pistons helped themselves more by adding Ratliff than the Celts did adding Cassell and P.J. Brown. But add in how well the Cavs bolstered themselves with the West/Wallace acquisitions and that any team with Dwight Howard can’t totally be counted out, and the Celts/Pistons/Cavs/Magic quartet in the conference semis is the closest thing to a lock in what shapes up as an unbelievably exciting playoff season. Personally, I think whoever has to face the Cavs in the semis will be at a disadvantage in the finals–provided they get past the LeBrons, of course. As for now, I’ll stick with the Celts, who enjoyed a season high 31 from KG in their signature victory over Detroit.

    In the West, Phoenix and Dallas gambled for a ring or bust this season, which is somewhat admirable, considering that both teams really didn’t look to advance much standing pat. But the pressure–not only on Shaq and Kidd, but Kerr and Cuban, and by extension D’Antoni and Avery Johnson–is going to be excruciating. Meanwhile, Denver, Golden State and Houston all have elements that make them loosey-goosey, which could be a curse or a blessing as the calendar flips to April and every loss is magnified.

    Don’t count out New Orleans. Chris Paul and Tyson Chandler may not be your typical 1-2 punch of stars, but the incredible versatility and charismatic leadership of CP3 and Chandler’s continually superb defense (always underrated, every year, when prognosticators sort things out) make this a very dangerous club.

    Finally, kudos to Allen Iverson and Deron Williams for putting on a clinic as to how the point guard position can be played in very very different but equally satisfying and effective ways. The manner in which D-Will carved up the Wolves on that opening 15-0 run to start the second half should be stenciled into Randy Foye’s cranium while he sleeps every night. And Iverson, twirling for 25 shots a dozen dimes and zero turnovers last night, remains my favorite player to watch when the defense is pliable (as Phoenix’s always seems to be) and he’s in rhythm. Coupled with Williams’ 11/0 assist to turnover total, it made for a glorious display of dishes.

  • Closed Down

    I thought I heard, via MPR, that The Rake is closing it’s doors. Too bad! Thanks for all the great stories and your sense of humor. I’ll be watching for the next venue [which you’re looking at online].

    Mary Jo Schmith, Front Ave. Pottery, St. Paul
    Letter

  • Self-Deprecating Fun

    I really enjoy reading Todd Smith’s article. His self-depricating humor is always fun.

    Mark DeYoung, Minneapolis
    Letter

  • Scot-Free

    NORTH, SOUTH, DOWN & OUT

    Hello everyone,
    I know it has been a while since my last post, but I have been busy
    accruing material for this one by traveling around this fair island. This blog-entry will concentrate on my recent travels outside Edinburgh. First to the capital of the UK and home to those English leeches: the
    monarchs of Britain; and secondly to Scotland’s biggest and most unsettling
    city, Glasgow.

    CHAPTER 1:
    GETTING TO LONDON

    I took a night-bus
    from Edinburgh to London to visit some friends from Macalester who are
    studying there at King’s College for a semester. A nine-hour trip
    in a tiny cramped seat is bad enough without miserable company; but
    I was unfortunate enough to get the full two-fer-one crappy bus-ride
    combo. The guy who sat next to me looked like the kind of guy
    Dilbert would refuse to be seen with in public. At first, I was
    excited because he was immediately talkative. I thought to myself
    that this was going to be fun, that my bus-partner and I were going
    to become friends like in Planes, Trains, and Automobiles. Then the guy decided to tell me about his job working for an open-source
    version of Google maps, and everything started to turn.

    He blathered
    on about his job in a peppy and cartoonish way that I will refrain from
    here because it would alienate you as it did me. This is
    the gist of the one-sided exchange: He and his friends decided that
    it would be neat to set out on a quest to take pictures of the entire
    world to in order to submit these images to a league of powerful amateur
    cartographers. These other participants scrutinized them and put
    them together to form a map. This noble alliance between the camera-toting
    vagrants and the mapmakers led to what my delusional companion proudly
    hailed as a "more accurate version of Google maps."

    As he gestured
    wildly trying to recreate his madcap bike-rides through the Scottish
    countryside, armed only with a Nikon and a bottle of Powerade, I tried
    to drown out his goofy voice with the power of my own thoughts.
    I started to inwardly question the veracity of his absurd claims. How could a bunch of bored would-be Vespuccis do a better job than Google
    does? Guys who mainly specialize in the field of knowing all the
    lines from Monty Python movies cannot outdo a company that has employed
    its satellites to take pictures of the surfaces of the Moon and Mars.

    Of course,
    that was only one of many questions that popped into my head, along
    with "why didn’t you just take another bus to London?" and "why
    can’t God just disintegrate somebody for me just this once?" Everything got much worse when he decided to point at the street every
    time we came across a patch of land that he and his friends needed to
    "explore more deeply" for the project. This happened very
    often — so often that eventually I forgot all civility and tersely told
    him I had to go to sleep. This was a blatant lie: nobody could
    sleep on a bus-ride as cramped and uncomfortable as this. Except
    for the map-nerd. He slept like an oversized baby, snoring loudly,
    and shuffling his legs in a way that clearly violated my prized personals
    space.

    Eventually
    I did get to London; I parted ways with my nightmare-bus-buddy, and
    we have not crossed paths again.

    CHAPTER 2:
    LONDON

    The famous
    landmarks of London are so familiar to everyone that I will not waste
    time describing the spires of Westminster Abbey or anything as mundane as
    that. Instead, I will tell you about some other stuff that happened
    to me in the UK capital.

    Being in a
    major city, the amount of options available to you can be overwhelming,
    disorientating, even paralyzing. Matt, the friend I was staying
    with in London, was kind enough to tackle this problem before I got
    there by losing his job. Now, we were free to roam the streets
    of the capital unhampered by the responsibility and indecision that
    come with that burden of burdens: money! No tours or fine dining
    for us. Instead, we had plenty of time to witness other more "idiosyncratic"
    attractions.

    One afternoon,
    when we were walking on London’s Strand we noticed some very colorful
    shapes moving about in a small alley near us. We walked towards
    the alley and the shapes came into focus. Before me, I saw what
    seemed to be the gaudy entrance of a nightclub and next to it were several
    individuals fully costumed to look like different animals. A fox
    in a policeman’s uniform cuffed a yellow rabbit in a baseball jersey. A purple wolf with robot-parts stared my friend and me down with his
    laser-eyes. Some other critters completely ignored us and went
    around taking pictures of each other in weirdly suggestive poses. My friend and I exchanged confused looks with a hint of trepidation,
    realizing that we were in the territory of some pretty wild deviance. Like lower mammals responding to a base instinct, we began to take pictures
    of these people who enthusiastically obliged us by strutting around
    in a way that can’t really be called "sexy" but which I can perhaps
    best describe as "uncanny."

    After this
    brush with perversity, I visited many other, more conventional sights. I saw Britain’s largest manmade crack in the Tate Modern and a host
    of pictures of historical luminaries with weak chins at the National
    Portrait Gallery    . I even heard a recording of James Joyce’s
    shrill aunt of a voice at the British Library! Every day was rich
    with activity! However
    stimulated these activities kept my eyes and ears, the call of a grumbling
    tummy inevitably brings me to my next topic: food

    People often
    complain about British cuisine. They say it is unhealthy, unsavory,
    and unsatisfying (and not worth the £5.00 you pay for it). I
    like deep-fried things, though, so Scotland has been good to me. Fish ‘n’ chips, deep-fried pork rib, and analogous dishes are exactly
    what clogs my heart and arteries with joy as well as fat. London,
    on the other hand was not as delightfully greasy a romp as its Scottish
    counterpart, Edinburgh.

    There, I went
    to what may well be the worst Chinese buffet currently in operation.
    It was an awful place where the bits of chicken tasted like crusty soap
    and all the desserts were cubic. Everybody at the restaurant,
    save myself and the friends who were with me, looked absolutely depressed. They ate the food with heir heads hanging in despair, as if somebody
    were making them do it. Frankly, I think that by the end of our
    meal, we also must have looked like we had just endured some especially
    cruel and ancient torture. Nevertheless, we swallowed down several
    plates of this shitty matter, because it was, after all, an all-you-can-eat
    buffet, and we jumped at the chance at finally getting
    the most bang for our quid.

    The moral of
    this story is: when in London, refuse the food. No matter how
    hungry you are, it is not worth the pain and sadness you will feel after
    your stomach is full of toxic bile. This I learned the hard way.
    Soon after my culinary travail, I had to take the bus back to Edinburgh.
    I spent the whole trip looking out the window; trying hard to fight
    back London’s take on the ol’ buffet blues.

    Now, on to
    the next stop on this tour of the Isle:

    GLASGOW

    A few of my
    friends and I decided to travel via train from Edinburgh to Glasgow
    in order to take in this city. I knew little about my destination,
    and God knows I wasn’t going to bother myself with doing research. Thankfully my flatmate, Knut, had some helpful information to provide.
    From him, I found out that Glasgow was the "knife-fight capital"
    of Scotland and that I should "definitely
    avoid needles" at all costs.

    Soon after
    I arrived at Glasgow, things took on a sinister bent. The city
    had many beautiful buildings, but the sight of encroaching urban sprawl
    was something that had become alien to me in tidy Edinburgh. As
    we ambled down the causeways and closes, I noticed cultural artifacts
    like smack-spikes and dirty shoes abandoned in strange, muddy gutters.
    Then I saw a group of chavs shout obscenities at a couple of women. The women screeched back some non-words in self-defense and gave them
    the two-finger "screw you" salute. I made it past this battle
    and came to a plaza. There, a man stood on a ladder, and hysterically
    spat passages from a big book (The
    Bible? Dianetics?    ) at a group of onlookers. Sometimes he took
    breaks to tell us passers-by that we were "Scum!" and "Damned!" This city was obviously no place for the faint of heart.

    For some odd
    reason, we decided to go to the Glasgow Necropolis. Deep in my
    stomach, I felt this was a bad decision as it meant getting closer to
    the tombs of Scots killed in the knife-fights I was told about.
    We went, though, and I saw where John Knox was buried. After that, nothing
    else really happened. Hopefully, next time I go to Glasgow I will
    get bludgeoned by a wino with a bloody dirk and I will get the "real
    Glasgow experience" I was hoping for. Until then, cherished
    memories of rudeness and creepy fanaticism will have to do.

  • Too Sexy for Uptown

    Today is the day Uptown brings sexy back.

    Even as Calhoun Square divests itself of undesirable
    tenants, forcing men in striped shirts stumbling blindly forth from Drink to satisfy their gyro pizza cravings elsewhere, an
    ominous pink glow rises from what was once the home
    of sensibly priced polos and ringer tees     – signaling a new order at Lake
    and Hennepin. A new order that could potentially blow the minds of Uptown
    residents and shoppers alike. A new order that, if left unchecked, could plant
    the seed of corruption in the impressionable minds looking for an intellectual
    connection     atop the
    rooftop at Stella’s    . For lo, the
    pink-gartered beast from Columbus     has arrived in Uptown, entreating and
    cajoling all who pass by with promises of crotchless hedonistic delights
    within.

    Or at least, that’s what Victoria’s Secret CEO Sharen Jester
    Turney would have
    us believe    . According to Turney, Victoria’s Secret has become far too sexy,
    instantly transforming upstanding Lunds shoppers into streetwalkers and whores and stirring men into
    testosterone fueled rampages –forcing them to don designer jeans and untucked shirts at a
    heretofore unheard of pace in order to engage in frenzied rituals involving
    Captain Morgan and the spasmodic twitching that passes for dance among males of the species. Minneapolis’ corporate sector will grind to a standstill
    as the siren song of garter belts and bustiers lures unsuspecting men and women
    into a hormone-laden trap, with the furious coupling that ensues resulting in a
    baby boom of unprecedented proportions – potentially rendering the Social
    Security system solvent again.

    In reality, the arrival of Victoria’s Secret does
    not herald the carnal apocalypse. But, it does signal a new era in the
    Uptown saga. And while it promises fiscal stability, as fellow
    blogger Christy DeSmith mentioned    , there are significant questions
    surrounding the redesign of Calhoun Square and its surrounding environs,
    especially as pertains to the retail mix. Independent restaurants and shops
    have played a large role in Uptown’s history, but many smaller Calhoun Square
    tenants are leaving, whether because of the instability inherent to a
    significant redesign like the one the property is going through, or because
    their leases aren’t being renewed. Longtime stalwarts like The Lotus are
    getting the "morning after the one-night-stand" treatment. Sobriety has come
    crashing down and while it seemed like a great idea at the time, the cold light
    of day has revealed Dan Frischman – Arvid
    from TV sitcom "Head of the Class" – lying languidly beside you, basking in the afterglow. The door can’t hit them in the ass fast enough.

    The plans put forth by the new owners of Calhoun Square call
    for a "mix of national retailers, local
    boutiques, and engaging restaurant concepts, including a mix of new and current
    tenants…" but that promise is eerily similar to the initial proposals for the
    urban nightmare that is Block E and doesn’t hold much water given the exodus of
    current tenants, though some, like Kitchen Window, have had their leases
    extended. And with American Apparel, Victoria’s Secret and North Face
    all setting up shop near the already well-established Urban Outfitters, Uptown
    residents have every right to be suspicious.

    In fact, residents are already reverting to the
    slavering attack dogs who so handily helped scuttle plans for a high-rise condo
    above the Lagoon Theater.In an example of either the craven cowardice of the
    Minneapolis Planning Commission, or the strident power of community activism,
    neighborhood residents have already sent the Minneapolis Planning Commission
    scrambling for cover as they bombard the developer with demands for "more public
    space" in the Calhoun Square redesign, as well as concerns over the possibility
    of large "anchor" tenants at the redesigned mall. Despite the support of city planners, communit concerns have caused approval of the project to be delayed till the Planning Commission’s next meeting on March 31st.

    Luckily, amid the rancor and disquiet, we have the
    comforting pink glow of Victoria’s Secret to remind us that even if a Chili’s
    takes the place of our beloved Figlio, we can always give in to the
    overpowering carnality emanating from 3000 Hennepin Ave. and embrace the
    hedonistic lifestyle proffered by Gisele’s cleavage, at least until Sharen
    Turney introduces the all new Very Sexy Chastity Belt and reveals the company’s latest spokesmodel.

     

  • Do the Irish Train Their Spouses Like Animals, too?

    SPECIAL EVENT
    Tunes, Tales, and Ale

    Start your St. Paddy’s Day celebration early with an evening of Irish food, drink, and entertainment. I’m not talking hornpipes and polka here (though, by Jove, you seem to love them). I’m talking Van Morrison! Ok. Ok. Not quite, but at least his music. Music will be provided by the St. Dominic’s Trio, the acclaimed Van Morrison tribute band led by local rock veteran Terry Walsh. Enjoy complimentary hors d’oeuvres from The Local, cocktails and Irish beers from the cash bar, and tales of Ireland and the Irish in Minnesota by Kieran Folliard (owner of Kieran’s Irish Pub, The Local, and The Liffey). Plus, learn how to bake Irish soda bread from Mary Healy of Saint Honore Gluten-Free Bakery.

    6 to 11 p.m., Mill City Museum, 704 S. 2nd St., Minneapolis; 612-341-7555; $24 members $20; reservations required.

    BOOKS & AUTHORS
    Using Animal Training on Your Spouse

    A couple years ago, when Amy Sutherland wrote about using animal-training techniques on her husband to improve their marriage, her "Modern Love" column became The New York Times’ most emailed article of the year. And of course, as is the way of the world, she got a book deal out of it, with a movie now in the works. Fresh off an appearance on The Today Show and a feature in the current issue of Newsweek, Sutherland joins us in Minneapolis to share her new book, What Shamu Taught Me about Life, Love, and Marriage: Lessons for People from Animals and Their Trainers. Don’t miss out on the invaluable life lessons.

    7 p.m., Borders, 800 W. 78th St, Richfield; 612-869-6245; free.

    ART
    Revision, Reiteration, Recombination: Process and the Contemporary Print

    Printmaking has a history as a medium that renowned painters and sculptors turn to when they want to experiment; locally, our own Highpoint Center for Printmaking and the erstwhile Vermillion Editions have hosted artists from around the world as they explored etching, monotyping, and lithography. This show is curated by Leslie Wayne, a New York painter whose work is currently on exhibit at the Jack Shainman Gallery in New York; she brings together a motley assortment of noteworthy figures whose work in printmaking we’re excited to see, in particular Polly Apfelbaum, Louise Bourgeois, Nicola López (who just had a show locally at Franklin Art Works), Thomas Nozkowski, Martin Puryear, and James Siena. Fans of the medium will want to attend a roundtable discussion on opening night at 6 p.m., just before the reception. —Julie Caniglia

    6 p.m., College of Visual Arts Gallery, 173 Western Ave., St. Paul; 651-290-9379.

    A "Peace" of War

    War…Huh! What is it good for? At least one thing: art. A new exhibit on war, titled Booby Trap, opens today at the Larson Art Gallery. The war being fought on the walls of the Larson may not, however, be the kind of war you might expect. This group of work concentrates on war during the medieval era, a time when war was considered sport. How much has actually changed since that time? Go to the exhibit and find out. Additionally, if you haven’t paid the Larson a visit recently, you should stop by to see the newly remodeled space. Don’t "fight" the urge; stop on by! —Kate Liebfried

    10 a.m. to 5 p.m., Paul Whitney Larson Art Gallery, 2017 Buford Ave., University of Minnesota, Saint Paul; 612-625-0214; free.

    MUSIC
    Ravi Coltrane and Roy Haynes

    Two substantial (as in deep and dense) jazz bands for the price of one are on the docket when both Ravi Coltrane and Roy Haynes front ensembles at Northrop Auditorium tonight (7:30 p.m.).

  • What's in a Handbag?

    photos by Tom Weiss

    Well, it’s snowing AGAIN, and I am sure you’ve reached the point where you just want to take a break and be done with winter. I am right there with you. 🙂

    So, how about taking a little mini vacation for a few hours and getting together with some good friends (and CARLOS FALCHI!) at PUMPZ & Company this Friday from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. at Galleria in Edina?

    Yes, I have work as well, but this purse and accessory designer makes it well worth sneaking away for a quick break just to see the beautiful handbags and accessories he creates.

    By the way, I really want to stress that I DON’T get paid to promote any designer; but I do enjoy promoting a designer who creates unique handbags that have been seen on the arms of — oh, what the heck, I am going to name drop here for a second — Nancy Reagan, Madonna, Kim Cattrall, Jessica Simpson, and the forever fashion icon Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis.

    I would love to give you more tidbits. Maybe tell your boss you have a terrible headache and come in person to shake Mr. Falchi’s hand, get an autograph, or simply enjoy seeing up close the "It" bags that have been featured in Sex and the City, The Devil Wears Prada, and the new favorite chocolate treat: Lipstick Jungle.

    What is the worst thing that can happen? Your boss follows you and ends up thanking you for the good tip? 🙂

    If you want any more information, or if you could be kind enough to RSVP, call Lola Red PR at 612-333-1723 or email pumpz@lolaredpr.com.

    FYI: I recently had a buddy in town who just happens to be a major movie star, and she asked me to take her to the best place in MN to get shoes. You guessed it: We went to PUMPZ & Company at the Galleria — with her lame disguise on — and she fell in love with the store. Maybe next time she comes back and buys some shoes there I will tell her that she should never wear the same pair of shoes twice on the red carpet and make her feel better by having her donate her "Pumpz" purchases to charity.

    Now it’s back to reality and time for me to go and shovel my driveway. Yes, I do shovel, people. 🙂

    Happy Wednesday! 🙂

    —Melly

  • Gypsy Jazz, Caviar, and a Wailer Sighting

     

    About a dozen Rake readers and friends showed up last
    Wednesday – at my invitation – for dinner and a show at T’s Place. You can find
    better Malaysian dishes elsewhere, (like at Peninsula Malaysian Cuisine) but the Ethiopian dishes
    were hearty and flavorful, prices extremely reasonable, and the contemporary
    jazz by Ethiopian-born bass guitarist Yohannes Tona and his band was
    first-rate.

    Toma’s a musician of
    the the caliber you expect to hear at the Dakota, where he sometimes performs.
    But for aging hipsters, the real musical highlight came late in the
    evening, when a grey-bearded guy got up on stage with the band and sang No
    Woman No Cry, followed by an a capella rendition of Redemption Song, a capella.
    It turns out he’s Devon Evans, who used
    to play percussion with Bob Marley and the Wailers. A memorable moment.

    Looking for things to do this week?:

    If you can’t get a table at Cafe Maude, check in at nearby Cave Vin, 5555 Xerxes Ave.S., where Rhonda Laurie (that’s her, above) and her trio play every Wednesday, performing jazz standards and gypsy swing in the keys of mellow and romantic.
    No cover charge. Best bets from the menu include the steak tartare and the
    steamed mussels – order them with the frites for a light supper. And Yohannes Toma will be back at T’s place, starting at 9 p.m.

    This Thursday only, Morton’s of Chicago in downtown Minneapolis will host a
    vodka and caviar event from 6 to 7:30 – Petrossian caviar, sliced smoked
    salmon, tuna tartare canapés and sliced tenderloin on crostini, accompanied by
    assorted vodka "mortinis." Cost is $45 per person, plus tax and tip; call 612-673-9700 for reservations.

  • Faking It

    It seems every time you pick up a newspaper, someone new is issuing a mea culpa for having written, published, or promoted a completely fake memoir. Starting with Rigoberta Menchu, back in the ’90s, then continuing through James Frey and his Million Little Pieces to the middle-aged woman who wrote about being a male teen prostitute named JT LeRoy.

    This week, we have Margaret Seltzer, who wrote under the pen name Margaret [Peggy] B. Jones and sold a true-to-life book called Love & Consequences. It took her three years to pen this memoir about her young life as a girl gang banger in south Los Angeles and her subsequent salvation at the hands of an African-American foster mother she called Big Mom. Only upon publication, it turned out Seltzer actually grew up in tony Sherman Oaks, CA, and she lived with her own biological parents (and the sister who ratted her out) until leaving for an expensive private school.

    What’s interesting about this story — to me, at least — is that Seltzer/Jones editor, Sarah McGrath, was MY editor, back when she was at Scribner and I was at work on my first novel, which we nicknamed Wild Ride. Sarah was a marvelous editor: dedicated, respectful, a real champion. There were times I thought she believed in my book more than I did. And I can easily see how a woman so enthusiastic about the art of the written word could get taken in.

    But what does this have to do with food, you’re asking? Well, funny thing. . . .

    Around the same time Love & Consequences was being recalled, a chef named Robert Irvine, host of the Food Network’s Dinner Impossible, was busted as well.

    It seems Irvine lied on his official resume, saying he’d cooked for President Bush and Princess Diana and somewhere along the line been knighted by the queen. He did none of these things. Nor did he graduate from the University of Leeds.

    What he did was star in a successful television show for more than a year — a program that one reviewer said was like James Bond meets MacGyver — serving impromptu gourmet meals to hundreds of people. He was entertaining and the food was good.

    So what, I ask, does his past have to do with it?

    Did he lie? Well, of course he did. Let’s take a look at YOUR official resume, check the grade point average you listed, the dates of employment for that managerial job you actually held for only two and a half months while your boss was out dead.

    And, to come full circle, I’m not sure why readers are so terribly upset about the memoir, either. (McGrath’s publishing house, Penguin, has not only recalled all copies in bookstores, they’ve even offered a refund to anyone who bought the book.) Jones apparently wrote a fabulous book, one that New York Times reviewer Michiko Kakutani called "humane and deeply affecting." Well, isn’t it still. . . .true to life or not?

    I’m puzzled, you see, by the point of all these recriminations. It would appear to me that Seltzer was being paid to tell a good story and Irvine to cook great meals. Each did exactly as she or he was assigned. And, yes, greased their reputations along the way. But given they showed real talent — producing work that other people benefited from and enjoyed — I would ask: What’s the real harm?

  • A Slew of Overachievers

    BOOKS & AUTHORS
    The Cult of Perfection

    Is your life ruled by a “to do” list of goals? When you get an idea, do you act upon it immediately, not resting until you have achieved a result? Do you always complete your work before the deadline? Do you often feel overwhelmed? Are you restless even on vacation? Then you’re probably an overachiever. But don’t worry—Cooper Lawrence is here to help. Join the acclaimed psychology expert and media personality tonight as she discusses her new book and gives you the necessary tools to make peace with your inner overachiever. "Packed with practical exercises and real-life stories of overachieving women past and present, The Cult of Perfection helps you harness your incredible energy, focus, and determination, to bring joy and success to your life."

    2 p.m.,     Magers & Quinn Booksellers, 3038 Hennepin Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-822-4611.

    MUSIC
    Bob Mould

    "When Bob Mould visits First Avenue, the paint on the walls heats up and starts to become liquid again. Stalactites of tobacco exhalations loosen their grip and drop from the ceiling. And the eardrums of people in the audience begin to ring in a way that will never completely go away, but it won’t hurt until they file out into the street, so they stay put, rapt in the presence of this former local boy and one of punk rock’s living legends." Tonight, he hits his old stomping grounds with a resplendent new disc, District Line, that mixes an occasional electronic dance tune with the molten pop-rock.

    8 p.m., First Avenue, 701 First Avenue North, Minneapolis; 612-338-8388; $15.

    ART
    Printer’s Pick

    Last year, staffers from the Highpoint Center for Printmaking combed through hundreds of portfolios to put together the invitational Printers’ Picks exhibit, which unfortunately ends today. Don’t miss your last chance to see this collection of diverse and engaging work from 20 North American printmakers: Adriane Atha, Sherry Black, Christopher Cannon, Caitlin Cowger, Maritza Dávila, Angellina Earley, Wanda Ewing, Jenni Freidman, Sharon Heitzenroder, Drew Iwaniw, Lê H. Khánh, Jessica Mills, Jewel Noll, Kristin Powers Nowlin, Laura Pharis, Matthew Rangel, Omar Richardson, Blake Sanders, Ruth Snyder, and Lauren van Wyke.

    10 a.m. to 5 p.m., Highpoint Center for Printmaking, 2638 Lyndale Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-871-1326.