November 30, 2004

They Came to Rob Las Vegas
Back from another tour of Vegas. I finally got eight full hours of shut eye and I'm ready to report on the grand time that was had by all.

The drinking started early in the Minneapolis airport and continued on pace throughout the sky. As is always the case when flying to Vegas, the most dangerous and unsettling aspect of the incoming flight is trying to navigate the throngs of stout hard-faced forty-something Minnesotans who have opened up their livers early in the hopes of generating madness for those on board the flight. Folks always talk about the 20-something Americans and their penchant for partying but they are unmatched and outgunned always by the older generations who care not about social mannerisms, self-control, and most importantly self-image. They are a gregarious bunch, with a patriotic clan- like mentality. They are seasoned pros who need more firepower then the young to eviscerate decades of dilemma and debt.

The perfect example sat directly in front of me on the plane. Her posse, which spread across an entire aisle of the plane, was keeping the flight attendants excessively busy. Her head-to-toe denim outfit was accented very nicely by her pink t-shirt. And as she drank, her hard-lined Norwegian face began to blush into a full pink moon until the t-shirt has just a continuation of her skin tone. By the time we landed her color had rouged to the point where she looked like she had spent the entire day uncovered in the hot Florida sun.

For this trip we had decided to try out a Hotel in downtown Vegas - The Golden Nugget. Downtown is old Vegas whereas 'the strip is' new Vegas. In hindsight this was a mistake. Downtown Vegas is profoundly dull. Its total emphasis is on gambling and getting you to the tables and the slots. If you have any other desire other than sitting in front of a slot machine and making your donations all day, then I would advise that you leave downtown Vegas to those who are of a singular pursuit. We did, however, stop by Binions and observe the poker tables where all the ESPN gambling and World Series of Poker takes place, but without the opportunity to see anyone's cards it was high stakes boredom.



My favorite part of downtown was the Lost Vegas Gambling Museum. It's run by a cool guy with an excellent knowledge of Las Vegas history. It was a typographer's wet dream. Tons of old memorabilia; postcards, old photos, hotel matchbooks, ashtrays, posters, and poker chips. It was another reminder of how cool Vegas must have been before the Disneyfication took place and it began catering to families and children. On a side note, many of the locals I talked to told a similar story of how the town has decided to drop the pro-family vibe and get things back to all sining all the time (see new add campaign: "what goes on in Vegas, stays in Vegas). Apparently the families don't spend enough on prostitution. This will no doubt be a very good thing for Vegas. The kid thing just freaks me out. When you're out running the strip at four in the morning the last thing you want or expect to see are small children walking around the lobby of a hotel where hookers mingle with clowns a mere ten feet away. It's just not a good idea.

After a full afternoon of requisite gambling Friday afternoon, we went out to the Hard Rock Casino/Bar. The only thing remarkable about the Hard Rock was how unremarkable the hip factor was. That and the fact that the only celebrity we saw turned out to be a guy who looked just kinda like Jim Carrey. I quickly learned that I was out of dress code at the Rock as I had forgotten to wear my banana republic white and striped long sleeve dress shirt. So to hide my embarrassment we left for a place I had never been called the Artisan Hotel and Spa. I highly recommend this place. The Artisan lounge is the darkest bar in all of Las Vegas. The decor is very dark with gilded, ornately framed art work covering almost every inch of wall space and ceiling space. Dusty hardback books sit in hand-crafted oak and mahogany book shelves. Cigar smoking is heavily encouraged. The seating? A deep comfortable leather. To my knowledge, the Artisan is the only place in town where there are no gambling machines or tables anywhere. If you are looking for a place to get a good drink and sit unmolested for a few hours than this is the place. It's totally not Vegas, which can be a good thing for when you are burned out on Vegas. There's even a small renaissance style church in the hotel. An appropriate place to confess your sins at the end of a long day.

Saturday got a late start. Sushi and Mimosas started the day at the Golden Nugget Buffet. Followed by an afternoon of making donations to the hotel casino. For the night, it was back to the strip. And the strip was in rare form. I really don't think Vegas gets interesting until after midnight. Midnight to eight in the morning are the prime hours of attraction in Vegas. The annual pilgrimage to the Fireside lounge at the Peppermill started things off right. The sunken fire pits are the most pimpinest in all the land. The people you meet at the Fireside are top notch. Got into a great conversation with a Northwest Airlines Pilot who told fantastical stories of international debauchery and airborne fate tempting. He was out celebrating his most recent Vegas landing which he said was the worst (eighty degree cross winds) landing he'd done in five years. A perfect story on the eve of my departure.



After the Fireside my memory is a bit hazy. I remember an outdoor bar that had acrobatic human monkeys as bar tenders. Ninja bar tenders they were! Whistles. Bottles flying everywhere. Behind the back. Over the shoulder. Balancing on top of the head. It was an amazing spectacle made only slightly annoying by the fact that you had to wait and watch for ten minutes before the drink was delivered to you.

I remember Eminem everywhere. He has definitely become the soundtrack of the strip. You couldn't escape him. I remembering dueling pianos, with blond bombshells on the keys, teasing the crowd with AC/CD covers. At around three in the morning the call was made to gamble. This, gentle reader, should have been the most regrettable move of the trip as minds were not sharp. But the tables in the Imperial Hotel proved otherwise. We got the blackjack tables with dancing dealers. Dancing to...? Yes, Eminem. The cards and Eminem were on our side. After only a half hour we were up a hundred. That was good enough. Cash out. But before the money was cold it was decided it needed to be spent. More drinks and then the 4 AM call for sushi was made.

The short trip to the Hamada of Japan was made slightly difficult do to a car full of humans that ran parallel, shouting unintelligible insults at us the entire ride. At the Hamada, my favorite place for sushi in Vegas, an excessively obscene amount of food was demanded of the chef. Hot towels were brought out to wipe away the grime that accumulates on ones face after a night on the strip. We gorged ourselves on raw fish and got high on tablespoons of Wasabi.

And that about brings to an end another tour of Vegas. It was a jam packed adventure. Whew.

November 26, 2004

Inside Bet on the Straight Slide to Debtors Prison
Another feast come and gone. I got ambitious yesterday and whisked up a killer vegetarian gravy. I made it with walnuts which I believe rounded out the taste nicely. James Bond's Thunderball was on the television. James Bond and cooking are a match made in heaven. All that action and airs of sophistication, it adds so much to whatever dish you're preparing. It's all about the process folks. Yesterday, for the first time, the delicious Quorn was introduced as the preferred turkey substitute. Although its name suggests that it could actually be one of James Bond's arch nemesis's, a sub-branch of SPECTRE perhaps, rest assured, Quorn has nothing but love for you and your family. I am very thankful for Quorn.

Now that the feasting is over it's time to get the hell out of dodge. Fucking Las Vegas baby! I can't think of a better place to go for anyone still suffering from post-November election despair. Commiserate with your fellow American's in a singular place where all dreams go to die. I'll be pushing whole John Candy-like families out of my way - trampling their plump children for sport. I will swim through shark tanks to be first in line at the baccarat tables. I want to breath only pumped in oxygen, eat feasts on the quarter hour, demand drinks on the eights, and sleep only on planes. I'm only hours away now...all my gym training will be put to good use...I got 007 on the brain and Vegas in my soul. I must go prepare. Things could get good.

November 23, 2004

Best Band
If anyone knows how I can get ahold of the band pictured above, I'd be forever in your gratitude. I'm not sure what kind of music they play only that I want to be apart of it. I'm just sure that me and my melodica would be a real asset to their sound and position them to reach a much wider audience demographic.

November 22, 2004

T.V. = Total Violence
Wow. What a weekend for violence. Flipping on the tube this weekend was akin to putting a big stethoscope on the heartbeat of America, and that heart is beating out a heavy war drum pattern. Fights during Football, Fighting in Fallujah, Epic fights in Basketball, Fights in music award shows, Fighting Halos. A guy from the Twin Cities got in a fight with other hunters over a deer stand, stomped off and returned later with a semi-automatic weapon and killed five hunters. Yikes. 2005 will be remembered as the 'year of the pugilist', with the month of November counting off the heaviest casualties.

Time out people. I think someone needs to create a website like www.count-to-ten.com. On the left hand side of the screen a number counter counts up to ten while a soothing female voice helps with the count. And on the right hand side of the screen there should be rotating images of cute kittens, bunny rabbits, and other warm fuzzy things.

The misses and I went to a bowling party this weekend. I almost bought a war helmet at the local military surplus store to wear to the event. I had images of lane infringement and 14 pound glow-in-the-dark bowling balls being hurled through the air. Thankfully my paranoia was just that. Although we did get to see two people humping when we pulled into the parking lot. As we got out of our car, we noticed in the car parked next to us there were some white butt cheeks pumping hard in the passenger seat. I'm still trying to get that image out of my brain.

Thankfully the weekend ended on a high note, as the Packers, in the most civilized and respectable way, polished off the Houston Texans in a brilliant come from behind victory. And as a Packer fan living in Viking territory I was delighted to read Nick Coleman's recap of Minnesota darling Randy Moss' deposition comments before trial (he intentionally hit a Minneapolis traffic cop with his Lexus 430). To wit:

Q: Is it correct that you reside in Minnesota during the NFL football season?
A: Yes.
Q: Do you have a home you own here?
A: Yes
Q: And do you know the address of that home?
A: No, not off the top.
Q: What street is it on?
A: That I don't know.
Q: Do you drive there?
A: Yeah.
Q: Do you ever look a the streets or road numbers you're turning onto or off of?
A: Not really.
Q: You just know how to get there.
A: Right.

Precious stuff. It's obvious that Mr. Moss is a community man and does so much for the city and state that loves him dearly. Read the whole Coleman article.

November 18, 2004

Fish Assholes
Hey I've been locked out of my blog for the last couple of days. Now I'm back. I could sit here and relate to you all the sweet skateboard tricks I've been testing out on the treadmill at the gym but I'll save that for another day. Sufficed to say, it seems to be unsettling to the other treadmill runners. The music keeps me moving on the 'mill. I've got sweet moves and routines for very specific songs. They should make mill running an Olympic sport. I got this sweet move during the Rollins song 'Do it' where I grab the front support bar and do a full airborne parallel back kick - like I'm super man - and then top it off with a little Eddie Van Halen scissor kick. Feel my power!

Anyhoo, I really just wanted to post this picture of a can of 'deliciously smoked' Fish Assholes that Peter took the other night at the Viking Bar where Willie Murphy was laying down the down home grooves. My current pick for a candidate in 2008 would be Willie Murphy.

November 15, 2004

The Sound of Afrojet
Packers beat Vikings. All is good and right in the world. Brian K sends me the best link I've heard in months. Want to know what afrojet sounds like? It's very similar to the beginning of a Bjork album. Listen now. For a full sonic invasion, open the link in multiple tabs.

November 12, 2004

A Good Day For Up
For some reason The Pixies show last night, has me thinking about Dr. Seuss today. Not really sure what the connection there is but I'll go with it because it led me to a great article by John Fea on Thoughts on a Seussentenial. A reflection of the American moral messages that are taught in Dr. Suess' body of work.

"Yet even as he tried to avoid writing morality tales, much of Geisel’s work reflects his deep and lifelong commitment to liberal individualism. Seuss’s books, through their celebration of opportunity, cosmopolitanism, and human rights, read like childhood primers on the American values. But at the same time, they remind us that the ideals of freedom, self-interest, and liberty have always existed in tension with the pursuit of a common life and the personal sacrifices that such a life requires. Dr. Seuss remains a window into the deepest convictions and paradoxes of American culture."

Lot's more Seuss.

November 11, 2004

Festivals
I'm currently suffering from a serious case of leaf bag envy. It ain't listed in the DSM-IV as a psychological disorder, so I'm guessing it's just a seasonal thing - but still. I thought I was big shit cause I had like nine, 45 gallon bags bursting with leaves that I had placed on the curb for pick up. But a quick survey of the neighborhood showed that my leaf bag pile was very rookie next to some folks who are stacking twenty bags plus. Man, fuck those people. I think they pad their bags or simply don't do enough compression while packing their bags.

Anyhow, finally got to the Get Real Documentary Film Festival last night for the showing of Tarnation. It's a good but tough movie to watch, made only slightly less depressing because the director/protagonist, Jonathan Caouette was there for a Q&A after the film. Although he made the movie using Apple's iMovie, he said that he hadn't gotten even so much as a nod from Apple. He was hoping for at least a free iPod. Natch.

I also saw the film Festival Express a couple nights ago. The movie furthered my appreciation for just how freaking punk rock Janis Joplin was and just how boring and lame the Grateful Dead are. The scenes of people Jamming on the train are sweet.

While on the subject of music, a little bird has told me that First Avenue may soon become a corporate House of Blues. I for one, hope this is a vicious and nasty rumor. For those still depressed tho, Jim Walsh has a message of hope.

Going to the Pixies tonight at Roy Wilkins Auditorium! I haven't seen a concert there since Jane's Addiction way way back in the day.

More music? A cool article by Norman Weinberger in the latest Scientific American about Music and the Brain:

"Why is music--universally beloved and uniquely powerful in its ability to wring emotions--so pervasive and important to us? Could its emergence have enhanced human survival somehow, such as by aiding courtship, as Geoffrey F. Miller of the University of New Mexico has proposed? Or did it originally help us by promoting social cohesion in groups that had grown too large for grooming, as suggested by Robin M. Dunbar of the University of Liverpool? On the other hand, to use the words of Harvard University's Steven Pinker, is music just "auditory cheesecake"--a happy accident of evolution that happens to tickle the brain's fancy?"

November 09, 2004

War Corporatism
The folks at Knife Party have put up a beautiful and meticulously designed video exploring the role of US imperialism. The bright side of four more years of Bush will no doubt be the amplification of creativity.

November 08, 2004

Framing Solutions
Problem: I like art. I like to purchase art. I like to purchase prints. Prints are probably my favorite. Most of the prints I buy are from local artists. Most of the prints I buy come unframed. Most of the prints I buy are of odd (original) dimensions that don't fit into off-the-shelf frames that one might buy at say a Target. In all cases the cost of a custom framing job is two to three hundred percent more than what I actually paid for the print. Thus, I have many prints that sit dormant waiting for me to shell out the big money so they can be displayed proper. A good example is the above print by old high school chum, Minneapolis artist, Sam Brown. Not Sam Brown of exploding dog fame but a different Sam Brown. I purchased two prints of his at a recent exhibition and was of course excited to put them up. However, the price of a custom frame made me think twice.

Solution (and the misses gets all the credit for this one): American Frame Corporation. Their online framing solution is almost perfect. Choose from hundreds of frame styles and materials, select your dimensions, mounting, etc., place your order and within a week your prints are hanging in affordable, professional style. The catch is that they use plexiglass instead of real glass, but if you order the non-glare variety of plexiglass, you can barely tell the difference. The above print was framed in cherry wood and cost a reasonable $50. The frame was delivered pre-built, so I just plopped in the print and the job was complete. This service gets the highest ratings from me. Four afros. Four jets.

November 04, 2004

Wallmart and God
I awoke to a bitter and hellish double whammy on November 3rd. It left me wandering around the house all day yesterday. Boxer shorts and slippers. As far as I got in dressing myself. I walked for miles - wearing out the same ten foot stretch of carpet, scratching my head and eating leftover Halloween candy.

To bring this thing down to the personal, I was hard-hearted and bloodthirsty thinking about the fact that not only was I staring down the barrel of four more fucking years of the brutish George Bush death clown car. But It's possible that I'll have to do this without First Avenue as my Temple and Church. The bad news is unrelenting! Peter Scholtes on the closing of First Avenue. To put this tragedy in full perspective for those of you who live in the Red states, this double whammy would be similar to George Bush losing the presidency and then having your local Wall Mart burn to the ground. I know. Chilling isn't it? Well that's just what's happened here in my back yard.

Perhaps this double tragedy is a sign from a higher power that it's time to join the team of the dumb. Perhaps today I will sell all my CD's, books, and DVDs, and replace them with the holy trinity of, The Passion of the Christ DVD, The Purpose Driven Life: What on Earth Am I Here For and, John Tesh: Worship at Red Rocks. Let these items be your road map for the next four years and beyond.

Jesusistan image methinks originated here.

November 01, 2004

Halloween Wrap Up
Good Halloween holiday weekend. It had been awhile since the last time I was kicked out of a hotel party by the Minneapolis police. It's good to know that it still feels pretty good. I ditched the Ketchup costume at the last minute in favor of an evil golf outfit. It was an all white Tom Wolfe affair with brilliant touches of Tom Watson circa 1982 when he won the U.S. Open. The misses sewed me a great tam to complete the outfit. I got these off white patent leather Brunswick shoes at the Salvation Army for a dollar. They were two sizes too small but I made the sacrifice to pull the whole costume together. My toes are still sore today.

At the halloween party I attended, the Oopma Loompa Nation (OLN) was well represented. It was definitely the go to costume for many. My favorite costume of the night was a guy who went as the one-arm drummer of Def Leppard. A simple costume that consisted of wearing a Def Leppard Paranoid t-shirt with one arm tucked in the shirt. I think he even pinned the sleve. He had a great wig and carried a drumstick in his good hand. Classic.