Molly Ivins: An appreciation

Political columnist Molly Ivins died in 2007. So as a little tribute, I cut up a speech she gave at Tulane U in 2004 and made some video snippets. Each clip is two to three minutes - very short.

Personally, I'll miss Ivins because she had a knack for espousing very populist, progressive views without clobbering people over the head with it.

The first clip is classic Ivins as she talks about defending the First Amendment against the machinations of an anti-pornography minister in Austin, TX.

She followed politics for the Texas Observer and could spin hilarious yarns about some of the odd elected officials that lived on planet Texas.

Ivins was critical of politicians and the political machine. But she never became cynical. That is, perhaps one of the things I admire about her most.

Merry X-box or xmas or something

Here are some things I love about this time of year.

Lights everywhere. It makes sense that during the darkest time of year, that people celebrate light. Whether you follow the traditional pagan recognition of the solstice or you believe Jebus is the light of the world.

And by the way, isn't it funny to hear the Christians complain about the 'war on xmas?' Or complain that Santa - a make believe character - is replacing Jebus as the symbol of the season? I find it just as plausible that a dude in a sleigh drawn by eight flying reindeer can deliver toys to children all around the world in one night - as I do that god decided to impregnate a virgin and that his son would perform magic tricks, get nailed to a cross and then rise from the dead.

Well, maybe that's all I like about this time of year. Nice having a day off work too I suppose.

Hey, my buddy Bill just started a blog. Check out his photos, he's a smashing photog.

Merry New Year y'all.

Here's what you get when...

...you put a guitar geek in front of a computer with a video camera.

Five days in Playa del Carmen

Highlights:

My Mrs, already beautifully sun-browned and delicious from over a week in Playa met me at the bus station. In the first half hour she got me a chicken tamale from a street vendor, gave me a few shots of tequilla and then 'put it on me' back at the hotel.

That pretty much set up how the next five days went.

Me, the Mrs and her sister - the kid Dominique - kept the following schedule:

a.m. - breakfast, beach
p.m. - beach, nap, 1st dinner and drinks
late a.m. - more drinks and 2nd and third dinner (usually found at a taco stand or pizza joint).

Other highlights:

Drinking all of the tequilla in Playa (or at least trying)
smoking a real Cuban cigar
food and drink everywhere you go
lots of friendly dogs hanging out at the bars.
warm sunshine, blue waters and tropical breezes
taste of the ocean and Resposado Tequilla on wife's lips
sitting on the beach at night in Tulum, watching the waves crash onto reefs and sand and spending the night in a cabana with the Mrs which was reminiscent of our honeymoon seven years ago.

(And just for the record, my wife is already more beautiful than 99.9% of the mortal females. But she got even more gorgeous with a few extra layers of sun darkened skin contrasting against her white bikini.)

In short, my five days in Playa was all about love, sunshine, tequilla, ocean, sky, good eats, family, friendship, sex, dreams and art.

My friends, I ask you, 'what more do you need?'

(More pics of the trip and posted here.)

Feline delinquent attempts arson

Does this look like the face of a criminal?

Yep.

My cat Baci nearly burned down the friggin' building this week.

I went out for a few hours to a friends house and when I got home and opened the door to the building, I immediately smelled gas. When I walked into the apartment and entered the kitchen, I found a pan full of tomato sauce on the floor next to the stove and the right front burner nob turned all the way up, filling the kitchen with natural gas.

I launched into a tirade of profanity as I began to open windows and break out the fans to get the dangerous fumes out of the building. I knew it was Baci, because he'd lately taken to jumping on the stove on his way up to the top of the refrigerator. I wanted to choke that little cat, but first I had to alleviate the threat of an explosion. I had to move fast because at any moment a spark could have blown us all to kingdom come (and I half expected Baci to try and finish the job by lighting a cigarette or something).

Not only did he nearly kill us all, he spoiled the rest of the very lovely tomato sauce I'd made the day before. I was hungry and looking forward to eating it over some linguini.

That little fucker might have 9 lives, but I've only got one. So every morning I tape up the nobs on the stove before I leave the house.

Dude, look at the chicken

Reason #45 why taking a week off of work and putzing around the apartment is a good idea:

Grilling chicken.

What can I say? It was sunny and 70 degrees. I had a grill. I had charcoal. I had chicken. I had rum.

I took some time off from enjoying the new iMac and ventured outside to fix some vittles and the gods smiled on my face. And they blessed my chicken with crispy skin and wonderfully smokey flavor.

mmmmmmmmmmmm...

Party in my tummy indeed

This video sums up the last four days I spent with the mrs and some close friends down in Houston. All we did was eat, drink, eat, drink, hang by the swimming pool and sleep.

On the first night, my man Nate grilled some fillet Mignon. The next night, the Mrs made a shrimp scampi with fresh, wild caught gulf shrimp. Then there was grilled pork tenderloin with what I call 'magic potatoes.' And the final night, grilled beef tenderloin sandwiches w/ Mexican style corn on the cob. The sandwiches were made with croissants, cheddar cheese AND horseradish mayo.

Creamy, fatty, goodness.



Did I mention, that every morning we fought back hangovers with waffles, bacon, Keri's special French Toast (right) and hash browns?

Geek Week

I've declared the week of Oct. 1 through Oct. 5 to be "Geek Week." And to celebrate, I bought myself my dream computer and have taken the week off of work. Throughout the week I'll be nerding-out in style exploring the vast features and bells and whistles of the new 24" iMac. If you are also a geek, then I'll tell you it also contains a 2.4 ghz duo-core processor, 320 gb hard drive and 2 gbs of RAM. It'll burn DVDs and CDs faster than a, er, well it's pretty darn fast. Plus, it's a bajillion times more powerful than my old iMac which I got seven years ago.

A few things I’ve learned in 40 years of living

Tomorrow, I’ll be 40 years old. That’s as close to 50 as I’ve ever been in my life. So it’s got me thinking about a few nuggets of wisdom I’ve accumulated. Allow me to share a few:

Try something new --- If you dread doing things that take you out of your comfort zone, ie: traveling, eating new food, exercising, meeting new people – that’s a signal that you must do them. I have found that more often than not, the activities or experiences that I think will make me uncomfortable turn out to be just fine – even enjoyable.


Meet your demons --- Like most people, I have personal demons who inhabit my subconscious mind. Over the years, I’ve gotten to know them on a first name basis.
First there’s Argok – the Lazy. He’s a smug, fat, slovenly demon who tells me to stay in my comfort zone and not try anything new. Argok constantly reminds me that I’m pretty cool the way I am and don’t have to worry about improving myself.

Then there’s Grakeziel – the Seductress. She’s the demon who compels me to seek instant gratification and generally messes with my self-discipline. She whispers to me when I’m hungry, “One little New York slice of pepperoni pizza isn’t going kill ya.”

And there’s Sharshamel the Timid. He’s a cowardly demon that pushes me away from conflict. His mantra is: “If you make people mad at you, they won’t like you anymore.”

Do you have demons like these?

Accept the randomness of the universe --- Shit really does ‘just happen.’ And any attempts to explain or rationalize why that’s the case are futile. Holding a lucky rabbit’s foot, or four-leaf clover is just as good of protection against calamity as is a cross. Bad things happen to people to who pray several times a day; who abstain from liquor; sex and all manner of vices; who volunteer their time to feed the hungry and clothe the naked.

So do all that if you want to, but don’t expect that’s going to keep you from getting eyeball cancer, or stop an anvil from falling on your sister or from your house from being destroyed by a rabid beaver infestation or some other awful act of nature.

The universe is random and mysterious and scary and wonderful.

Maybe in another 40 years, I’ll figure it out.

Found: One pair of blue, thong underwear on the street outside the post office in downtown Hastings

(a la Garrison Keillor)

"Questions about the origins of the displaced undergarments briefly replaced chit chat about the weather among Post Office customers and clerks for an entire day. That's saying something, since folks in Hastings take their weather talk very seriously.

"Molly Gustafson, who owns the sewing shop on the other side of Main street from the Post Office, was the first to see the crumpled underpants as she arrived just as the office opened. It was Monday, and Molly was mailing a stack of coupons announcing 15 percent off black thread spools to her repeat customers.

"She told postal clerk Marjorie Olsen about the dainty and now dirty unmentionables lying next to the lone handicapped parking space. Molly asked Marjorie if she'd ever consider wearing 'such a thing.'

"Marjorie was not a small woman. She grew up on a farm where she was brought up on whole milk, butter and healthy portions of Midwestern modesty. She snorted jocularly as she considered the sadistic design characteristics of the g-string. 'Oh Heavens,' she laughed. 'I don't even floss my teeth.'"

"It was a line she repeated several times that day."

A broad sweeping generalization about women that is based purely on anecdotal experience

If I’m in a hurry to get through a line at a grocery store or one of my favorite downtown lunch spots I make an effort not to stand in a line that contains more women than men.

It is a decision based less on gender and more on the fact that a certain part of the population carry purses that contain separate pockets for change, bills and cards. For example, the woman in front of me at Taco John’s orders a Number 5 burrito combo (with the free Churros) which comes to $5.78.

First, she reaches into the bill compartment and pulls out five singles and THEN opens the little change compartment to collect the 78 cents.

Then of course, after the transaction is done, instead of stepping aside and letting me order my taco salad with chicken, she has to reassemble the purse through a series of snaps and zips. Apparently most purses come with extra-secret compartments in which to hide change or cyanide tablets – just in case the owner of the purse is captured by the Nazis.

Indeed, some guys carry a wallet which does require an extra step. (Personally, I don’t carry a wallet. Wallets encourage pickpockets. Plus, they create an unsightly bulge on my otherwise shapely butt.) But I’ve never seen a dude subsequently pull out a change purse after laying down a couple bills.

I ask you, what is wrong with getting some spare change? Give it to panhandlers or take it home and put it in a jar. If you have free laundry, set it aside and take it to the bank after a few months. I used to get anywhere from $65 to $100 each time I took a bag of change to the bank.

Caffeine is a helluva drug

"I've got wild, staring eyes/And I've got a strong urge to fly/But I got nowhere to fly to..."

--Roger Waters

Bad Wims

Heh. I don't know what this little animal is, but I'm adopting it as my avatar. He is Bad Wims.

Fall approaches downtown Minneapolis

Fall is nearing here in DT Minneapolis. And the cooler temps mean more business-suited individuals are returning to the Skyways to get around. The homeless and other displaced wanderers are also more prevalent inside the human habitrails.

Personally, I'm a fan of fall. The weight of humidity is gone from the air and I feel like I can stand up straighter when I walk outside. Plus it's becoming soup and stew weather. Once again, I can hunker down in my flourescently lit workcube and enjoy a warm bowl of goodness and a chunk of bread.

Fall is also the beginning of pro football season. It's a time of year when we lifelong Vikings fans can enjoy at least a few weeks of optimism, until the crushing reality of the Purple's consistent mediocrity compels us to downgrade our playoff hopes, to 'well it'd be nice if they came out 9 and 7.'

Ah, fall....

Flashing before my eyes...

While going through a box of mementos I happened upon an envelope full of ticket stubs of some shows I went to years ago. I was flooded with memories of my youth and here are some highlights:

The Replacements and Soul Asylum @ the Entry Oct. 15, 1985. Soul Asylum bass player breaks bass string and the Mats open with "Color Me Impressed."

The Red Hot Chili Peppers @ First Ave Mainroom Oct. 9, 1989 -- Flat out one of the best shows ever. The ticket was a birthday present and my roomies also bought me beers all night. I got seriously altered.

Fishbone and Primus @ First Ave. Mainroom - Nov. 2, 1991
The show came right after the huge Halloween Blizzard of '91. I was so afraid the show would be cancelled because the roads were in horrible shape. But it wasn't. Bass guitar god Les Claypool was dressed in a dark blue hoodie for the whole show and he just rocked it.

Public Enemy and Stetsasonic @ First Ave. Mainroom - Dec. 12, 1988
The stage in the mainroom kept vibrating and making Terminator X's records skip, so Chuck D and Flavor Flav had to tone down the stageshow. But they still killed me. It was my first big hip hop show and I knew every rhyme to every song they did.

Monsters of Rock @ the Metrodome - July 13, 1988
My first time and only chance to see Eddie Van Halen play guitar. It was worth it, even though Sammy Hagar was fronting the band. Metallica blew my head off. Scorpions were boring. Dokken lackluster. But here's the worst part of the show: I was living in a house across the street from the dome and invited some of my old high school buddies to park next to my house during the concert. Unfortunately, my landlord wasn't amused and had all their cars towed. My friends were pissed at me.

Stevie Ray Vaughan and Jeff Beck @ the Northrop Auditorium - Oct. 25, 1989
My third and last time seeing the great SRV. Beck did a set. Stevie did a set. And then they jammed together. Oh god was that amazing. Weirdest memory from the show was there was some jarhead douchebag sitting behind us and he kept getting pissed everytime one of us stood up. So we sat. And then Stevie did "Voodoo Chile," so we said F-it and stood up. The guy got up came around in front of us and tried to pull one of my buddies down to the floor. He was then ejected from the building.

Other memorable shows - The Suburbs @ the Mainroom in 1984, Violent Femmes in the Mainroom in 1985, Ice-T and Body Count @ the Mainroom Feb. 10, 1992 (the brothers weren't havin' none of the moshpit); House of Pain w/ Rage Against the Machine @ the Mainroom April 5, 1993 (Rage Against the Machine melted my face off and I hooked up with cute chick after the show); Living Colour w/ Bad Brains @ Mainroom April 26, 1993 (dude - Vernon Reid and Dr. No in one show) and Prince at Glam Slam - July 25, 1994 - The Love Experience consisted of Prince, Michael Bland on drums, Sonny T on bass and Tommy Barbarella on keyboards. Prince played guitar all night and tore the shit down.

this is where chicken comes from

Long story short -- last weekend my wife killed a chicken, plucked it, gutted it, butchered it and then cooked it. Boy, it was delicious.

I took lots of photos here.

There's a bit of narrative with the photos that explain why in the hell anyone would do such a thing. But I'll tell you it was done, not out of bloodlust, but out of a sense that one should know where their food comes from. And, that folks should know that if you eat meat, something's gotta die first.

I was inspired by a recent post from whiskeymarie with eight interesting things about her. So what the hay, here it goes:

1. I'm a grown-ass man who thinks puppets are funny. From the Muppets to Sifl and Olly - non-stop hilarity.

2. As a kid I was on the back of 'monster cereal' cereal boxes: Count Chocula, Franken Berry, Boo Berry and Fruit Brute. It was a promotion selling little dolls of the monster characters. And yes, I did get all four dolls. (fyi - the photo above is not a pic of the box. I have a framed cutout which i keep in a safe place.)

3. I'm a jack-of-all-trades, master of none. I dabble in writing, art, music - a halfway decent guitar player - but don't ask me to sit down and play you a song, because all I do is noodle.

4. I don't like cilantro. It tastes like soap.

5. I'm a night person and a morning person. But I'd rather be napping during the afternoon.

6. People think I'm smart because I can remember and recall lots of trivial information.

7. My favorite part(s) of my own body: my hands.

8. My dad is more interesting than me. He's a freelance screen/voice-over actor who's appeared in television commercials and he had a speaking role in a Disney movie which also starred Hulk Hogan and Lonnie Anderson.

An observation about downtown traffic

Recently, while standing at the corner of 7th Street and 2nd Ave. at evening rush hour, I witnessed a frustrating scenario. An ambulance, with its lights flashing and siren blaring, is trying to make its way north on 7th. There is considerable gridlock. And none of the drivers of the cars who are by now seeing the ambulance in their rear-view mirrors, feel the necessity to drive forward to get out of the way.

So the ambulance just sits there, for what must be an eternity while the drivers slowly figure out that in order for the emergency vehicle to get by them, that they'll actually have to make room.

Who knows what type of emergency it's speeding off to: a heart-attack? a stabbing? shooting?

Meanwhile, a woman standing next to me on the corner, voices the same frustration, I'm starting to feel (except her voice sounds much more Minnesotan than mine). "What if that ambulance was trying to save someone they love? Would they get out of the way then? Jeezus!"

oooooh, that smell

I was going through the security checkpoint at the Hennepin County Government Center yesterday when I caught a noseful of 'body stank.' It was a powerful odor. Best described as obese-construction-worker-making-gravy-in-the-tropical-sun smell. In front of me in line was a young man wearing a dark hoodie pulled over his head. The security guard eyed him suspiciously and asked him why he was wearing a full sweatshirt on a 90+ degree day with a 70 degree dewpoint which, in my opinion, made the temperature actually feel hotter than Satan's bunghole.

Dude, sounding like Chester of Sifl and Olly fame, says, "I'm doing that Atkins thing. Heh, heh. Trying to sweat it out, you know."

Mind you, homeboy was skinny as a beanpole. He went through the metal detector without a bleep. So luckily, the most lethal thing he was carrying today, was the stank.

Ramp rage revisited

A bloggable moment from Saturday night:

Me and my special sweet baby M went for dinner in downtown Minneapolis. By the way, the food was great - particularly the lamb chops. Anyway, I'd parked in a nearby ramp (U.S. Bankcorp) that I found out later didn't have an after hours attendant. But it had one of those machines to stick your ticket in and pay.



Unfortunately, this machine didn't have a credit card slot. Only room for cash and below it a coin return receptacle. So what happens when I stick in my 20 dollar bill to pay for my four dollar fee? Like a Vegas slot machine it spits out 64 quarters.

WTF?

Oh, Suzy Q

"Oh Suzy Q/baby I love you/Suzy Q..."

No, not talking about Suzy Quattro. Talking about the tasty snack treat that I've loved since childhood. Some say the Twinkie is the best thing to come out of the Hostess laboratories - er kitchens, but me, I'm hooked on the Q.

I know that just a few skyway jumps away are pastries that are actually baked in ovens, not created in test tubes. But there's something about the firm little rectangular chocolate nerf cakes - and the goo, man, the goo.

Oh yeah.

"Oh Suzy Q/baby I love you/Suzy Q..."

You want coffee with that?

A brief salute to the hardest working, under-appreciated members of the downtown workforce:

The coffee jockeys.

These are the people who without batting nary an eyelash, nor roll of eye, will take an order for a “large, carmel, double-vanilla whip, latte -- with a hazelnut flavor shot. And can you make sure the milk is heated to 103.5 degrees?”

They do so without ever once reaching over the counter to bitch-slap a customer, even those who request a beverage that takes longer to order, than it does to actually make.

I salute you coffee jockey for your infinite patience and restraint.

Overheard this...

...request at my favorite skyway sushi joint, asked by an obvious sushi newbie:
"I'll have the COOKED shrimp tempura, please."

Ramp Rage

One of the other sometimes frustrating realities of working downtown is parking in a ramp. I’m extremely fortunate that my employer pays 100 percent of my parking – which ain’t cheap – but daily parking in a ramp is one of the small pinpricks that contributes to the overall deflation of the soul.

The other day I got stuck behind a woman driving a Lincoln Navigator. This SUV has the turning radius of a Nimitz-class aircraft carrier. Indeed, she couldn’t get close enough to the ticket-dispenser, so she had to open the door and dangle one of her legs out to grab the ticket.

As she crept forward at a snails pace, the roof of her tank just barely missed the concrete ceiling beams of the ramp. The Northstar ramp is an obstacle course of a ramp and I held my breath watching the behemoth on wheels skim past the parked cars as it slowly edged around the tight corners.

I wasn’t necessarily in a hurry to get to work. I was more looking forward to getting at my morning coffee fix. So I was a bit anxious. My anxiety grew as the monument on wheels in front of me lumbered around corner after corner. Fed up, I angrily turned into the first nook of a space that I could find. Part of my car came to rest just over the yellow line that separates the parking spaces. No big deal. I see many cars parked like this everyday. Upon my return to my car at the end of the day, I’ve got a note stuck in my door from ramp management scolding me for parking in ‘two spaces’ at once.

Bastards…

Beans: An appreciation

(Mecca and Beans just back from a trip to the vet)

I first met Beans on the day I returned from a grueling canoe trip in the Boundary Waters. I'd emerged from the bathroom after a long-anticipated hot shower and was intercepted by this barking 25 lb dog. I had no warning that we'd be getting a dog, although Mecca had always talked about how much she wanted one. I like dogs, so I said, 'sure, no problem.' While I was off paddling and portaging, Mecca travelled to the Humane Society and found Beans. The dog was left at the humane society because her previous owner -- an old lady -- had died.

At first, Beans treated me like a stranger. She growled and barked as I approached my wife to give her a hug and kiss. And until the day she died, Beans continued to express disgruntlement at each display of affection between me and Mecca.

It didn't take Beans long to warm up to me, and we hit it off just swimmingly. We often enjoyed the same activities together, mainly lying on the couch with the TV on and napping. She also liked chasing our two cats around the house and would sometimes playfully head-butt our little cat Baci.

Like many dogs, Beans was afraid of thunderstorms and firecrackers. But she also feared the sound of flatulence. And if the offending noise came from her, Beans would try to run away from her own butt.

In 2006, at the age of 9, Beans was diagnosed with diabetes. So we began giving her twice daily insulin shots. Despite a little flinching every now again, Beans was a trooper and accepted her medicine. A few months after that, I noticed her having a harder time than usual negotiating the back stairway. She kept bumping into things. And to my horror, realized that Beans had gone blind.



We rushed her to the emergency vet who told us that indeed Beans' slowly growing cataracts had rapidly grown overnight. Our little dog could no longer see. But that didn't stop the Beans. Her energy, her appetite and her enthusiasm for life were unbowed.

She would maintain that attitude through several more bouts of illness and (expensive) trips to the vet. But on June 1, 2007 the sickness returned and knocked her down for the last time. She went peacefully at the hands of a skilled veterinarian who assured us that putting her to rest was the best thing for her. And we knew it. The fight had gone from her eyes. Mecca held Beans as the doctor applied the lethal overdose of anesthetic. I held Mecca. We both sobbed as we felt the life finally slip away from our little dog.

Over the five years we had Beans, we spent thousands of dollars on her. Maybe as much as 10 grand. If you would have told me - before we got her - that I would spend that much money on a dog, I wouldn't have believed it. But she wasn't just a dog. Beans was a member of the family. She was our baby. And we miss her so much.

Ode to a greasy piece of cheese pizza...

I never, ever, ever get tired of pizza.

It is my 'stranded-on-a-desert-island-one-choice' food. So how great is it that there's a slice joint just over in the TCF skyway? Well, maybe not so great. I've got the nearing 40-year-old, male health concerns: watching the blood pressure, sodium and fat intake. Plus if you're black - like me - you bear the additional burden of the 'predisposition factors.'

Brothers don't live real long, relatively speaking. So any food pleasures we may enjoy ie: fried chicken, bacon, Fanta Red Pop, etc. will likely kill us before we're 55.

But sometimes, like today, you gotta just say if this greasy slice of pizza is going to kill me, then it was worth it.

Skyway sushi Friday

Spicy Minnesota rolls and the spicy tuna/California roll combo at Tensuki Sushi

I used to reserve paydays as 'Sushi day' here at the office. But now, 'sushi day' is just about anytime I feel like it. Apparently, I'm not alone. Sometimes it's hard to fit into the little shoebox of a joint to get to the cooler where they place trays of rolls and nigiri style sushi. I'm a sucker for spicy tuna rolls.

It's gyro time y'all

King-size gyros with fries from Falafel King.

I used to go to Falafel King (located in the TCF bldg skyway) only for the falafel. But after a while I kept getting mealy balls of fried chickpeas that appeared to have been sitting in the steam table for a little too long. So I gave up. Which is too bad because a fresh falafel is a glorious thing.

It's apparently harder to screw up a gyros, so that's what i ate today. The fries are an extra indulgence. But I'm going to have a long day, so I need to fill the tank to the rim.

Default lunch

The chili corn bisque at Au Bon Pain w/ baguette

Au Bon Pain is where I go when I don't have a craving for any particular food. The fare at the Pain isn't bad - in fact the chili corn bisque is creamy, yet contains no cream. It's also quite flavorful AND there's no meat in it. (I'm trying to cut back on the carnivoring).

But there's nothing there that when the clock strikes 11:20 a.m. makes me go 'ohh, I'll go have some soup and bread."

However, the soup and bread is cheap. Just give them five bucks and you'll get 80 cents change - enough for a sweet snack later in the afternoon. And, if you're like me and trying to decrease the volume and the fat content of your food intake, then Au Bon Pain is a fine default.

More tales from the 'human habitrail'

Though I try to do right by my cardiovascular system by walking up the six flights of stairs to my office everyday - I often take the easy way out. And while it's a short trip, often the elevator ride is full of little vignettes that would make great plots for episodes of "Curb Your Enthusiasm."

These events evoke thoughts in my head, that only the show's creator and star Larry David would say out loud.

Here's a common occurrence. I stand in the back of the elevator as a pack of heavy duty office honies, fresh off a lunchtime smoke break and a 'run to the border' (they're still carrying the 64 oz. Taco Bell cups of soft drink). These are ladies with low centers of gravity. They wobble but they don't fall down.

We start on the skyway level - 2nd floor - and one of them pushes '3.'

I imagine Larry David - were he in my place - would follow the women to the edge of the elevator door and offer a suggestion and a smirk as they waddle away.

"Excuse me ladies. Ah, you know maybe walking up a flight a stairs wouldn't kill you. I mean, I'm not saying you're...But I'm just saying."

lunch in the human habitrail

As a member of the downtown Minneapolis workforce, I regularly forage the human habitrails - or skyways - as they're more commonly known - to get food.

Lunch is my 2nd favorite part of the day (next to quittin' time). And there's a vast array of food options to choose from. In my immediate vicinity - meaning within two or three blocks - there's several asian joints, a decent pizza slice vendor, a Falafel King, sushi and of course your chain establishments: Au Bon Pain, Taco Bell, Taco Johns, Brueggers, etc.



Today? The veggie curry from Zen Box Eatery. A simple, no humble, bowl of white rice, and chunks of carrots covered in a rich, spicy curry. It's cheap - 4 bucks and change, it's tasty and it's filling. Once I slipped and ordered the Katsu curry, which includes a panko-encrusted, cheese-filled, deep-fried pork chop. Huh? Of course I had to eat the pork chop. However, it may as well have been panko-encrusted, cheese-filled, deep-fried shoe leather. Way overcooked.

Some more observations

It seems like the older you get, the more things surprise you that happened 20 years ago:

I graduated from high school (just over) 20 years ago. (jeez)

20 years ago the Twins won their first World Series. (i remember it like it was only 10 years ago)

Then there are things that happened 30 years ago, that make you go - 'that was 30 years ago?'

Like, the first Star Wars movie came out then, Van Halen I was released 30 years ago.

Great Gladys Kravits, time flies.

friends in warm places

casa de Leaf, Kingwood, TX

At this time last week I was waking up, throwing on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and having coffee by the pool.

Nope, not a dream. We were visiting some good friends who recently moved to Houston, Texas. For about 2 and a half days we ate well, drank wine (no bottle cost under $30 - the good stuff), swam, hot-tubbed, laughed (a lot) and generally had a great time.



(me and Mec chillin' by the tub - photos courtesy of Moxie Photography)

We didn't really leave the house, actually Mec aptly dubbed it Nate and Keri's pleasure palace. Located in a suburb outside Houston, the house was lovely and equipped with great amenities. Along with the pool and hot tub, there was a movie room and a pool table. Plus, it wouldn't have been complete without more good friends, Bill and Liz.

Great to have friends in warm places.

But I didn't see WKRP

(a view from Northern Kentucky looking at downtown Cincinnati)
I was in Cincinnati for a few days on official public radio business - very serious stuff. I stayed downtown for two nights, but only had one night to really look around.

I was staying at a pretty nice Hilton, with three very nice looking restaurants and bars. But, they were all full of white dudes in suits - who were all apparently apart of some big corporate gathering. And since I didn't want to get stuck at the bar drinking and listening to a bunch of inebriated businessman gabbing on about whatever they do, I decided to get out and find some locals. Plus I was feeling like some greasy bar food.

The weather wasn't bad, maybe mid 40s so I walked down toward the Ohio river with my camera to do some shutterbugging. I walked across an old historic bridge that was under renovation. The Roebling suspension bridge, originally built in the 1860s. (more info here: http://www.cincinnati-transit.net/suspension.html). I walked across to the other side and snapped a photo of downtown Cincy. Little did I know, I had walked all the way to Northern Kentucky.

Dude, I was in Kentucky, all by myself and it was getting dark. So I hightailed it back across the bridge to find some food.

I found O'Malley's in the Alley. A very quaint looking Irish theme bar - not a pub. I walked in and was glad to see that it was an attraction for locals. Most local white folk, a few with thick southern accents (afterall we were just across the river from Kentucky).

Seeing no Confederate flags, i decided that the place was probably at least safe enough for a brother to get a sandwich and a beer. I sidled up to the bar and ordered a Killian's and a 'smasher'. That's like a panini that's been flattened and then fried, so it's crispy. Mine was full of Colby cheese and bacon. Just what I was looking for.

I quietly ate my fried sandwich and drank my beer, soaking in the local flavor. At the corner of the bar a group of three dudes and one woman were cussing and laughing. One guy was playfully harassing the bartender, a 20-something guy, as he made a margarita.

On my right side was a guy getting quietly drunk by himself. The bartender referred to him 'crazy man.' At one point, Crazy Man got up and weaved over to the jukebox and played a Rammstein song (a live track). It took me a little by surprise, because the dude looked more country than he did scary-German-Industrial-Metal.

I was getting tired and decided to hit another bar before I settled into an evening of watching cable TV in a little hotel room, so I settled my tab (a whopping $4.80) and wandered out.

I made a stop at an unremarkable, and nearly empty Mexican joint (it was a few hours past Fiesta Hour) and grabbed a rum and coke.

For the most part, downtown Cincy resembled many other downtowns I've visited. It had a lot of the same stores and chain restaurants (TJ Maxx, Mortons Steakhouse) as you'll find in many other places.

And no, I didn't find WKRP.

Hibernating

It's cold with windchill temperatures that can kill you instantly -- sort of.

So what's there to do? Explore the great indoors, that's what. Hibernate, mate.

I made a kick ass pot roast, put a fake log in the fire place, grabbed a beer or two and I'm chillin like Sub Zero.

The Timberwolves are playing on the TV (of course they're losing) and the dog is curled up on the couch next to me. I've exercised, lifted weights, cleaned myself up. Basically, I'm just making the best out of a nasty weather situation.

...and it happened on MLK Day of all days.

When comedian Paul Mooney used to use the n-word, he did a bit called "Nigger wake up call." It's an incident that reminds black folks that no matter how much status they've achieved, that they're really still just niggers.

Well, I had one of those on MLK day. Just minutes after listening to an account of a wealthy black woman get mistaken for house help in her own home that was on NPR as part of their King day coverage, I wandered into the Target store in St. Louis Park.

I'm standing in line with a few items. I notice that the white cashier is finishing pleasantries with the white woman in front of me. As I step up, the cashier suddenly clams up. She doesn't make eye contact, and the only words she says to me are "you need to give me another 17 cents."

I politely apologize and hand over another dollar.

She ends the transaction by handing me the receipt. I'm looking right at her as I put my receipt in the bag and start to walk away. She doesn't look at me and instead turns to the next customer and says 'hello.'

I stop and turn and obviously stare at her. I must be scaring her now, because she's obviously trying to ignore me.

As I leave the store I'm literally shaking with rage. I hate anger. It makes me queasy. Maybe it's one of the reasons that I don't allow myself to get angry very often. I steel my eyes at the sight of the hoards of white people coming into the Target as I leave. I'm pissed. I'm so tired of white people at this point. But now I'm mad mostly at myself for not saying anything; for not asking for a manager and explaining what just happened.

But I'm not confident that I could do so without coming off as just another angry nigger.

As I drive away my indignation grows. And I actually find myself saying out loud, "don't they know who I am? they pissed off the wrong black man. I'm a fuckin' reporter for motherfuckin' Minnesota Public Radio. Don't they know what I can do to them?

The next day I tell my editor about what happened and he literally recites the same lines. He tells me to write a letter to Target and tell them who I am. He's an older white man who grew up in the South and has learned to hate racism because he's seen it up close.

But he hasn't felt it. And I find myself inclined to not fire off a letter to Target.

When it all comes down to it, I am just another black person. And my story is no different from so many I've heard from middle class, well to do Af Ams who also suffer these indignities and then tell me because they expect that a black journalist can do something about it.

what is sexy?

Oh yeah, that's a slick looking device. The new Apple iPhone.

Now until now I didn't think I needed a PDA - something like a blackberry where you can get email while you're standing in line for your foofy coffee at the local Dunn Bros.

But i want this thing...badly. I will need a new phone sometime this year. And I'm also having the big 40th b-day coming up in September.

Oh yeah, you know what else is sexy? Getting hopped on by your drunk wife at 3 a.m.

heh

Right now...

Listening to right now:

An internet radio station Drainbamage - which is playing Steve Vai, Joe Satriani and Yngwie Malmsteen having a guitar circle jerk over Hendrix's "Voodoo Chile."

Some pretty fancy string bending, (and with Malmsteen's sweeping arpeggios to boot) I tell you what...

Yeah, I'm a guitar geek.

What I'm watching right now: a bunch of talking heads on CNN. Apparently the topic is what the president will do about Iraq. Meanwhile, CNN is also reporting five more soldiers have died there.

This Sunday marks the beginning of the non-Vikings portion of the football season. Thank goodness there's still playoff football out there. But after a few short weeks, the Sunday wasteland begins.

I mean, I'll actually have to find something to do on Sunday afternoons that don't involve sitting on the couch. Note to self, get off your arse and do something.

Now the Foo Fighters are on, "No Way Back." I really like the Foo Fighters. They rock and Dave Groehl is a GREAT frontman.

So far I've managed to stick to my only New Year's resolution -- that is NOT to make any resolutions.

I did try to fast for at least 24 hours. I made it 18 and started feeling so sick I thought I wasn't going to be able to rehearse with the band. So I cut it off. Apparently I've got a lot of toxins floating around in my system that need purging.

Next time I'm going to take a day off work.

Now playing Jimmy Eat World's "Nighttime Drive."

Kind of a mellow song. Anywho, I'm thinking about breakfast - and who isn't?

Now playing: Pink Floyd, "The Thin Ice" from The Wall. "Don't be surprised/when a crack in the ice/appears under your feet..."

Pink Floyd is amazing because most people I know who like Floyd, don't listen to them anymore. And it seems like for the same reason: because Floyd's music really takes the listener through their own head - and I don't know about you, that's a place I don't need to stay in for too long.

OK, back to breakfast. It's one of the things I forgot to add to my long list of beliefs.

'I believe in breakfast' more specifically, I believe in eggs, hashbrowns and some form of pork product. Today, it's pancetta.

gotta go...