Can Football Save The World?

According to AC Milan footballer Kakha Kaladze Milan owner and Italian PM Silvio Burlusconi contacted Russian PM Vladimir Putin to discuss Russia's invasion/intervention into Georgia's South Ossetia region at Kalaze's request.
From Goal.com:

Milan defender Kaladze, a Georgian who personally asked Italian PM Berlusconi to help, has revealed that it was the Rossoneri owner who was responsible for stopping the war. "The world does not know it, but it was Silvio Berlusconi who stopped the war in Georgia. For this reason I thank him," Kaladze revealed to ANSA (Agenzia Nazionale Stampa Associata). "Berlusconi has always been very close to the Russian Prime Minister Vladimir Putin. "The two of them are very good friends. It was his intervention to stop the war between Georgia and Russia. I know that the Italian premier spent over five hours on the phone with Putin to try to stop this delicate situation.

So the answer is yes ... evidently Football can save the world.

Music: Take Back Labor Day 2008

Tom Morello started it, the audience finished it... "It has to start somewhere. It has to start somehow. What better place than here? What better time than now?"
Monday, September 1st, 2008 saw the Take Back Labor Day festival at Harriet Island draw a full mix of labor union supporters, peaceniks, wannabe-hippies, hippies, hip-hoppers, preppies, moms, dads, kids, and joe-sixpacks. When the main stage music began, the casual atmosphere reigned -- Billy Bragg chanted protest songs and genuinely engaged the audience with heart-felt appeals. The relaxed feel remained through Steve Earle and Allison Moorer, depsite Earle's harder-edged lyrics and his frequent use of the F word; and continued on well into Tom Morello's set. Morello, or as he is calling himself, The Night Watchman, is of course the lead guitarist for Rage Against the Machine, and everyone seemed eager for him to split their ears and tear some riffs up to get the crowd going ... but he didn't. Not really. He stuck to the script of unmelodic protest songs, speak-singing his way through most of those, to boot. Suffice to say, Morello, though inspirational, should stick to guitar playing. His voice is about as melodic as mine. Even less-so. Yes that's possible.
The vibe didn't really get charged until, nearing the end of his final song, Morello sang the lyric that began this post ... "It has to start somewhere. It has to start somehow. What better place than here? What better time than now?" And by the end of it, the crowd was ready for something big -- and man, when Tom Morello tells you to jump and shout, brother you jump and shout.
Following another short speech from a Union rep, local talent Atmosphere took the stage, and like moths to a flame, the young and old pressed forward. A migration. Waves of people moved in closer and closer, and finally, after two hours, the festival became a concert. Atmosphere rocked that joint. Hands and arms of thousands of kids went up, and the bass rolled down. Slug and his mates played for about 45 minutes, and it was the highest injected 45 minutes we'd seen. By the time he'd finished, the exodus to the beer tents and biffys began.
Most were still not yet re-settled when Mos Def came in and pumped out three songs before even addressing the crowd. Naturally a guy in a Members only jacket and hat might comment on the day's 90' heat ... and he did. "Man, Minnesota's hotter than a muhf*cker." And it was. So was his set. Infused with some old school jams, a crowd of mostly late teens and early twenties joined him on choruses from Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five's "The Message"; prompting my festival companion Jodi to wonder how many kids had yet been born when that song was released. It was determined by approximation that "very few" were indeed born before 1980.
But hey, it was a peaceful time, a rallying point of inspiration, and a joy to behold -- I just wish we could have heard one, just one full-on Rage song ... Harriet Island would still be shaking.

Design: Ericsson Ericofone

This phone makes me want to get a land line again. Found at Classic Retro @ Pete's on University and Vandalia, this model ran $180 (though eBay occasionally has them for far less -- $50 to $100 -- the red is the most popular. I think it's obvious why).

Football: SWP Back to City

Boo. Boo I say. Shaun Wright-Phillips, former wunderkind at Manchester City, and for the last two seasons, a slight disappointment at Stamford Bridge, has returned to City from Chelsea for an undisclosed fee.
SWP never forged his place on the Blues' first team, and faced with even less playing time with the imminent arrival of the young Robinho, he now finds himself with a chance to compete every week at City. I wish him well -- and I would that he were given a greater chance at Chelsea to make his mark. At 26 he'll still have many solid years in him, and with some fortune, he'll help City continue to grow (and possibly make an appearance on the national squad). Farewell SWP, we hardly knew ye.

Goal.com

Premier League.com

Downtown Eats: Town Hall Brewery

A few years back, when the what'sitsname comedy theater reopened as the Town Hall Brewery, a good number of theater folk, and other hangers-on (including myself), flocked to its in-house brews and spacious patio seating. Supplanting the long-standing Sgt. Preston's for most actors per square inch, the Town Hall was the place to be seen after a show, a rehearsal, or after pretending to be in a show or rehearsal.
During a spring of '02 production I probably hit the Town Hall two dozen times in two months; mostly sharing the various beers and old stories with cast and crew. The director of this unmentionable play, a blustery, jolly, and somewhat perverse man, introduced me to the Town Hall Black and Tan (their stout and their ale). I love my Guinness and Bass as much as the next, but Town Hall had the recipe licked. Nutty and dense, yet somehow crisp and refreshing.
Now, years later, I have discovered their food. to be honest, I don't know if they've changed chefs, menus, focus, or what, but whatever it is, they're getting it right.
I've had their chicken wrap (sadly, no longer on the menu), Santa Fe Black Bean Burger (outstanding!), Brew Burger, Black & Bleu Burger, and the Riverside Chicken Pita. The wrap was delicious, the black bean burger was divine (and in-house made), and the burgers are top-drawer. The chicken pita left me a bit stale, as the chicken salad, though tasty, is more of a chicken paste -- unappealing texture, really. Still, that's only one of five that would receive a 'Meh' on the Guttoral Scale of Flavor (Lowest being Bleh, followed by Guh, then Meh, then Mmmff, then ultimately Ohh).
Town Hall's fries are pretty decent, too. Not enough salt for my taste - but then what doesn't fail in that - yet light, crisp, and perfectly cooked every time.
Oh, and since I'm always a stickler for price, most items are in the $7-$10 range. For food this good, I'll take that.

Town Hall Brewery

Town Hall Specials and Reviews from Thrify Hipster

And from the fine drinking site Bottle Gang

Found Art?

Ha ha ... Doucheray. And how.

For Those of You who *Heart* Bacon

Seems I have a friend who loves bacon ... and why not? Well, after seeing such cute piggies at the Fair last night (not to mention my love for "Babe"), my guilty conscience could get the better of me. Or not.

I Heart Bacon

Bacon Skateboards

Kevin Bacon

Francis Bacon

Bacon Cups (Cool!)

The Bacon Show (One recipe a Day, every day)

My God, The Arth

This, my friends, is Arth. Courtesy of the Minnesota State Fair's Bazaar. Somewhere a person is hanging one of these saw blades in their kitchen, and with pursed lips, nodding their head in satisfied agreement that this, yes indeed, was a fine purchase.

Not Arth, Just Cute

This is dangerously close to useless crap, but it's just too freaking cute. Will Shakespeare, you make an adorable duck.

Downtown Eats: Bobby & Steve's

Call me late to the party. I've been occasionally pumping gas from Bobby & Steve's downtown pump house, but never managed to venture too far into the rest of the mart. Actually, a flat tire last winter soured me a bit on their helpfulness, but now all is forgiven.
After receiving the flashing low-gas light on the scooter this morning, I planned a mid-day stop at B&S's for some petrol and possibly an eat. Bumping into my boy Sam out front upped the station's cred as a food destination, as Sam is nothing short of a connoisseur of quick food. (Admittedly, so am I.)
After a brief chat, I walked in, immediately nabbed a $.79 Diet Coke (in a glass bottle no less!), and made my way to the lunch counter. What ho! Paninis, burgers, dogs, sandies of all kinds and warming-tray warm foods (Corndogs, fried chicken, nachos, etc.) ... And all for $5 or less. Combos - which include fries and a pickle - are $6.99. A gas station miracle. Scratch that ... a diner in DT Minneapolis miracle. This is no ordinary gas station two-for $2 special food my friends.
You think I'm jesting. I am not jesting. I get grumpy when I pay more than $10 for a lunch around town ... let alone one that is sub-par or unsatisfactory. (I'm talking to YOU Harry's on Washington.) So when I saw Reubens, philly cheese, 1/4lb burgers, and the like for about $5 - freshly cooked - I instantly forgave the cranky pants in tire service for last December's misgivings.
I ordered the Philly cheese from a guy who called me "boss", and promised me the fry girl's number if I got fries with it. I passed on the fries, though to be sure, the fry girl whom Sam called a "chubby dumpling", was awfully cute. Still, you'd never need them. The sandwich is more than ample and made like the real deal. I've been to Pat's in South Philly, I've rocked Geno's across the street ... this is not on their level, but it was close. A good damn sandwich. All told, I paid a little over $6 with tax.
It's an oasis. I'm sure you're all in the know. I wasn't. Now I'm just passing it along...

Editorial: RNC

Though I'd much prefer to steer clear of political issues on this blog, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that St. Paul - my town - is hosting this election year's Republican National Convention ... In case you hadn't heard (Right). Less than a week away, the town(s) is preparing for the deluge of visitors to our fair neighborhoods. Inundating our communities and dumping tons upon tons of revenue into our local economy. Cool, yes?
At the same time, events and activities are in their planning stages for the not-so like-minded counterparts, hell-bent on protest. (I myself will be attending the Steve Earle/Tom Morello/et al Labor Day Concert on Harriet Island.) Lines are being drawn and words are already being spoken (screamed).
In the past, though usually not adhered to, I have held the belief that the best way to protest somethings existence was to ignore it. Pretend it's not there. That is, if you give it no credence, it can wield no power. The Paul Anka defense. But we live in the real world, and humans can no more ignore something they disagree with (on any side) than they can manage to avert their eyes when passing a train wreck -- or avoid telling an in-town celeb that they're a 'big fan'. (Really? A BIG fan? You're a BIG fan of Jm J Bullock? Like you have Jm J Bullock posters on your wall, and Jm J Bullock wallpaper on your desktop?) But I digress ...

We know there will be clashes of belief. We know there will be name calling and mud slinging. We know there will be arrests and there will be more and more divisive talk on both sides. My plea to you is simple. Take pride. Deadly sin aside, this is the first time the Twin City area has hosted the RNC in 116 years. Take pride in our city, our cities. We will be the center of the Free world for four days. We can start something here. Whether you believe in the GOP or abhor it, we can begin a new trend of honoring and protesting the same event with dignity, balance, and mutual respect.
Protest (hell yes) if you want to, but let's remember one and all that a difference of opinion does not have to mean degradation. If you are baited, let it slide. Let your minds and your words act as your defense. Extremism on either side only exacerbates the emotions of dislike and downright hatred many currently feel toward their party-line counterparts.
I have a hard time with all of this, too. My emotions get the better of me all the time ... but screaming "get the hell out of here, we don't want you here, etc. etc." sends the wrong message. There are some who do want the RNC here. And they have a right to assemble.
Let your words and actions stand for your beliefs, and show the world that dissent and disagreement do not have to mean ugly.
These are great towns. Beautiful towns, people.

The Meaning of Arth

Before we begin, you might be asking yourself (or rather me, albeit silently) just what is 'Arth'? The thing is Arth is no more easy to explain than its bigger sibling ART. You just kind of know it when you see it.
Arth, as a concept was born about eight years ago. I was perusing the adornments and decorative elements of an acquaintance's home with a friend, when we spotted something not-quite tacky and not-quite ordinary, and yet not-quite crap. "It's not quite 'art' is it", she said. "No", was my reply ... "it's like, ARTH." We laughed -- and Arth was born.
Just as the boundaries of Art can gyre and gimble in the wabe, so may Arth. One man's Arth is another man's crap (or vice versa). My childhood home was filled with Arth -- to this day it remains so. We cannot all be Charlotte Yorks.
This blog aims not to dwell on Arth. Not at all, really. It merely celebrates it in name, which I think is badass. But it may rear its head from time to time, making us smile and revile all at once.
So in summation, Arth, as its definition stands, plastic and malleable, is not quite Art, not quite crap, but comes with a slice of cantaloupe at the end. Onward.