A couple of weeks ago certain planets aligned and I went to two, count them, two concerts, Regina Spektor and Spoon. This is high living for me, since that comes to about 17% of the concerts I have attended in my life so far.

They were both amazing shows. But the venues were like apples and oranges, (literally) like downtowns and suburban malls. Specifically, like First Avenue and Myth the Nightclub. Going with the food simile again, more like apples (if you like apples) and something bad; let’s say spoiled milk.

Regina Spektor played at Myth, in Maplewood (a suburb 15 minutes north of St. Paul). Myth is next door to a shopping mall, has tall boxy walls, and looks, from the outside, like it used to be a Home Depot, a Home Depot with a giant Vegas-style sign showing a fiery “M.”

They frisked me on the way in, and though they were gentle, I wasn’t into it. Digital cameras were banned, we were informed. Before the show started, a girl in red was escorted out, why I don’t know. In the middle of the set, two burly bouncers pushed their way through the crowd on the balcony, where I was, and scanned the crowd on the floor, barking to each other: “Down there!” and “Third row!” Who they were after this time, I don’t know, but the cumulative effect was a lot like prison, with better décor.

I’d never been to First Avenue, the fairly-famous nightclub where Spoon played (it’s featured in Prince’s Purple Rain), but I liked the vibe a lot better. (For Minneapolitans, it felt to me like the CC Club with a stage.)

First Ave was dark, noisy, and relaxed. I can’t imagine that digital cameras or much of anything was banned, and as I stood on the balcony by the stairs, I could barely read the “Stairs must be kept clear for fire hazard” sign through the throng of people cluttering the stairs, hazarding fires. The drinks were good and more affordable. I think I recognized half the people there (although that could have been because we all seemed to wear the same rectangular glasses and Converse sneakers, which tends to make people look familiar in the dark). Tidy, I know, but First Ave felt like the opposite of Myth.

One last thing: although Myth had a stilted vibe for me, Regina Spektor was anything but. She was amazing, full of soul, once beating time on a wooden chair as she sang and played piano, the whole show an accomplished mix of precision and fun.

Myth the Nightclub
[where: 3090 Southlawn Dr., St Paul, MN 55109]
First Avenue & 7th St Entry
[where: 701 1st Ave N., Minneapolis, MN 55403]

Some of my grad-school-persuasion friends, wife, and acquaintances are in serious crunch-time mode; what better time to try out pointless time-wasting free Flash games online?

Double Jeu

Try to keep two balls in the air. Moving the mouse both tilts the inclined plane at the bottom, and moves the Pong-style “paddle” at the top. Keep the bottom ball from rolling off the plane, and the top ball from passing your paddle, as long as you can. My all-time record score is 33 seconds. That’s not really impressive, but I worked hard for that score. Too hard. Simple-concept game, complex fun.

shoOot – (from the main page, choose “shooot” on the 6th line)
You’re the square at the bottom of the screen, moving only left and right, and you have to shoot the circles as they bounce around–and don’t let them hit you. The circles don’t shoot back; when a circle drops a colored pellet down at you, snatch it up, it will boost your firepower, add shields, slow down the enemy circles, or make you temporarily invincible. I thought the circles were shooting at me, and I avoided the power-ups for long time. Boy, does that make the game a lot harder. Oh, and when you shoot a big circle it splits into lots of little circles, Asteroids-style. Damn those circles.

Gimme Friction Baby! – (when the screen finally loads, click the green-ringed button on the bottom left)
The title sounds so . . . dirrrty, but this is a clean, family-fun puzzle game, I promise. You shoot white balls from a rotating canon onto a playing field, and try to explode the balls by tapping them, with other balls, three times. Don’t let them cross the dotted line above your canon. The balls bounce around and expand like hell when they stop. Got it? No, probably not. Try it out, it’s fun I swear.

I was in Salt Lake City for my job thingy. I expected craziness. I expected Mormons proselytizing me at every corner. I expected to have to buy a club membership to get a drink. But it hasn’t happened that way; so far, you get a drink just like anywhere else. And the locals I met have been pleasant and polite.

I wasn’t expecting new modes and methods of crossing the street. Who knew?

First off, Salt Lake City’s Walk/Don’t Walk electronic signs at crosswalks (you know, the white walking man and the red hand) are supplemented with bird chirps and whistles, piped into little crosswalk speaker boxes.

I kid you not.

“Cross now” is translated into bird tweet (which bird species’ dialect, I don’t know), and it sounds like a high pitched “chee.” The “don’t walk” cheep is a lower-register “wee-ert.”

This immediately caused my conference colleagues to make smart-ass remarks. I may have made one or two myself. Good for the blind, right? But what if you hear a bird that sounds like the “cross now” bird, and end up stepping into the path of a semi? What if, God forbid, a mockingbird takes up nearby residence?

And, as my friend Margery said, “Why would you listen to a bird anyway?” Birds, with their teeny-weeny brains, are not particularly renowned for their street-crossing advice.

Well, don’t worry. Because you can wave an orange flag around furiously instead.

In lieu of crosswalks, here and there, there are semi crosswalks. Pseudo crosswalks. They aren’t at lights. They’re in-between lights. No walking man, no red hand. Just the crosswalk hash painted on the street with the word “look,” and little orange flags to carry with you.

Again, with the me, the you, and the not kidding.

The sign says to wave the orange flag as you walk across, “to help increase your visibility.” I tried it out, and let me tell you, I waved the heck out of that flag. I waved that flag as I have never waved anything before.

So if you hear the bird say “go!” in Utah, grab your flag, close your eyes, and run like hell.

At the sign of the loon

Smoking Loon 2005 Cabernet ($7.99 750 ml)

If you’re looking to impress your Three-Buck Chuck-swilling friends with your class at the next party, I’d recommend the Loon as definitely worth the extra bucks.  It’s a dark, opaque purple, concentrated drinking experience, an intriguing, well-balanced blend of potent flavors that can stand up against the spiciest food or the most charbroiled piece of carbon to come off the barbecue.  (Well, maybe not Indian hot, but pretty hot).  My dad recommended this wine, and it confirms my opinion of him as a highly intelligent man with discerning taste and a liking for a bargain.  

A distinguished panel of experienced drinkers (two friends and I) road-tested this wine at a cookout a few weeks ago and in the backyard last weekend and pronounce it highly satisfactory.  The panel: 

Experienced Drinker #1 craves intense tastes: coffee should be dark roasted, opaque, and thick as tar; chocolate must be at least 70% cocoa and not too much sugar in it; barbecued food should have half its exterior surface caramelized and/or carbonized, preferably both.  Food ordered in America should be American hot, though not Thai or Indian hot.   

[Or, heaven forfend, West African hot.  Those people are crazy and their peppers are evil. 

On one occasion E. D. 1 entered a greenhouse where West African varieties of peppers were growing, and was forced to leave by the mere fumes of the peppers growing on the plants.  They hadn’t even been bruised or cut, yet drove her from the premises.  Those are some strong peppers]. 

Experienced Drinker #2 has regularly imbibed a wide variety of wines over the past three decades, as well as being an aficionado of small-brewery beer.  She also enjoys American-hot peppers and intense tastes.  E. D. 2 is also a vegetarian, for what it’s worth. 

Experienced Drinker #3 favors light, fruity wines such as chardonnays and white zinfandel.  She tasted one small sip of the Loon, scrunched up her face, and pronounced it “Very dry.”   This reaction constitutes a recommendation to those who crave intense flavor. 

The remaining members of the panel continued about our serious work of tasting, sipping assiduously until we reached the bottom of the bottle.  We came up with these flavors:

Full-bodied but not overwhelming, dry but not too tannic [to me a mark of too-cheap wine], a nice blend of flavors with no one note overwhelming the rest.  Mainly we got a definite blackberry jam-like flavor, spicy with hints of cinnamon and woodsmoke, with an even slighter dusky flavor of mushrooms and walnut skins. 

Finally, we detected a faint trace of banana oil, otherwise known as fingernail polish remover, but that was when we were almost at the bottom of the bottle.  Anything was possible.   

With a name like Smoking Loon, and a price at $7.99 for a 750 ml bottle, that the damn thing also taste good is almost like icing on the cake [which we did NOT discern in this particular wine, at this particular tasting, anyway].   If you love strong flavors or are going to a place where you’ll be eating carbonized whatever off the grill or spicy foods, bring a bottle with you.  You won’t be sorry. 

You might’ve seen these avatars floating about on the web (the electronic image type not the incarnation of a Hindu deity as Vishnu, although  . . . these days . . .you never know especially considering the last caption contest). I don’t know if this is old hat since I am in Finland and there is a lag where much of American “culture” is filtered down over time which is a good thing. Anyway a friend of mine had a Simpsons avatar of himself on his website and I thought that’s neat. So instead of doing real work I decided to waste about an hour or so creating my own avatar and uploading it here.

I was a bit disappointed on the facial hair choices (Dr. Nick’s goatee being the closest to my own) so I went for the “clean look” which I haven’t worn in awhile. It’s fun to do and worth checking out especially because this kind of procrastination has at least an end product.

Here’s the link:

http://www.simpsonsmovie.com/main.html

 Also if you want to be hardcore you can send them your photo and they will Simpsonize it for you!

Grade:  A

Two episodes in, I unequivocally love this show.  Reaper makes Chuck pale in comparison.  The two share a basic concept—male underachievers who unwittingly enter a world of high intrigue and danger—but where Chuck rips off Alias hardcore, Reaper more gently takes off from Buffy International Airport.  On his twenty-first birthday, Sam Oliver (Bret Harrison) fends off his suddenly solicitous parents and heads to The Work Bench, where he punches a clock with his goonish best friend Sock (Tyler Labine) and love interest Andi (Missy Peregrym).  After a number of mysterious occurrences—Sam develops telekinesis and has odd visions of a burning house—a revelation appears, in the form of an unctuous managerial type (Ray Wise) who happens to be the devil.  Before Sam was even conceived, the devil says, his father was dying; to save his life, he and his wife promised the devil the soul of their firstborn.  Drafted by Satan, Sam becomes Hell’s bounty hunter, forced to track down escaped, malevolent souls in an entertaining fashion.

To return to the Chuck comparison:  The shows do share a concept, but whereas Chuck appears purchased into existence, Reaper is that concept as produced by Kevin Smith and the crew from Mystery Science Theater.  (By the way, Kevin Smith produced and directed the pilot.)  Reaper’s biggest asset is its ramshackle charm.  The special effects are delightfully cheesy, and the cast eschews high thespianism in favor of a laid-back, slacker camaraderie and charm.  Ray Wise has drawn attention, deservedly, for his turn as the devil, but my favorite character is Sock.  The character is pure stock (see Morgan on Chuck) and usually pure annoyance, but Labine manages to make me enjoy his presence.  Probably he got an assist from Smith, who in his movies did the same for Jay, but still, that’s quite a talent.  Reaper is my clear favorite this fall.

A few days ago, at a bookstore, I saw a girl trailing after two women and couldn’t help overhearing their conversation:

Little Girl (in cute little girl voice): After this, can we go to the Walker Art Center?
Woman #1: I don’t think so, honey.
Little Girl (in pitiful little girl voice): It’s free on Saturdays.
Woman #1: Have you ever been there?
Little Girl: Yes, lots of times.
Woman #1: What would you do there?
Little Girl: They have art for kids.
Woman #1: It’s just an art museum.

I’m a poor judge of kids’ ages, but this girl was little itty-bitty. I’d guess like five. Or seven. Or nine. Somewhere between five and nine, but she would have been a really short nine-year old.

And I know I don’t actually have kids. And God knows when I do, they’ll ask me to go to the art museum, and it’ll be Saturday morning, and I’ll be on the couch in my underwear, and I’ll growl, and make them mow the yard instead. But first get me a beer, I’ll say.

But when your kid wants to go to the art museum instead of McDonalds, which is where I begged my parents to take me when I was five (and seven, and nine), you know, take her! Or at least don’t tell her art is lame.

Chuck grade:  A –

Journeyman grade:  C +

Of the two new shows that bracket Heroes on NBC’s Monday lineup, Chuck is the one that dares to ask, “What if Sydney Bristow didn’t mean to become a secret agent?”  Chuck (Zachary Levi) is a computer tech at Buy More who hasn’t gotten over the time his college roommate Bryce stole his girlfriend.  Eventually Bryce graduated to stealing government intel, and emails the goodies to Chuck just before dying at the hands of Jayne from Firefly.  Somehow the intel downloads into Chuck’s brain, and suddenly Chuck is the object of a frantic government search conducted by Jayne (here named Casey) and Sarah, who’s as badass as an Erika Christensen doppelganger can be.

Journeyman is the show that dares to ask…I don’t know, “What if you couldn’t pick a decade to live in?”  Dan Vasser (Kevin McKidd) is a newspaper reporter with a checkered romantic and family history.  His wife Katie (Gretchen Egolf) used to date his brother Jack (Reed Diamond), back before Dan’s wife-to-be Livia (Moon Bloodgood) died in a plane crash.  Or did she?  One day, with no warning, Dan starts shifting through time.  Livia may have something to do with it; she may not have died in the plane crash.  Dan saves the life of a guy named Neal, then saves the lives of Neal’s wife and son—from Neal, who was going to kill them.  Meanwhile, all the time shifting makes his family think he’s on drugs, and causes some tension at home.

We may have a winner, but only one.  Thus far, Chuck manages to capture all the goofy excitement of Alias without the overbearing angst or Byzantine plotting that crippled the series from season 3 on.  There’s a winning scene where Sarah (Yvonne Strzechowski) takes out several NSA agents on a dance floor while Chuck bops happily, unaware that malevolent forces are plotting his destruction.  As with Alias, the pilot focuses on the schism between Chuck’s daily life and his secret activities.  That daily life includes Chuck’s friend Morgan (Joshua Gomez); his sole function is to remind viewers that Chuck is a nerd, so I hope he’s the series’s second casualty.  As Chuck, Levi has a genial, earnest, slightly melancholy presence that lends itself nicely to the story of someone caught by forces beyond his control.  Chuck could stand to distance itself a little more from the Alias template, but I have high hopes from this first episode.

Journeyman doesn’t fare so well.  Look, I sat through 16 Years of Alcohol through Kevin McKidd, but for god’s sake, the guy has got to start reading scripts instead of contracts.  Dan shifts from 1997 to 2007, and somehow no one in 1997 notices that he’s suddenly ten years older?  What is he, Goldie Hawn?  And in 2007, Katie and Jack stage an intervention after Dan suddenly goes AWOL, twice.  Okay, he also caused a car wreck, but they could try taking him the hospital before assuming he’s on drugs.  (There had better be some history to explain Katie and Jack’s response.)  I like that we don’t learn everything right away—how Dan and Katie ended up together, why the time shifts are happening—but even with those questions unresolved, the breakneck plot pacing overshadows McKidd’s best attempts to lend Dan some individuality.  There are several good ideas here, many of them recycled from other shows, but the creator/writer, Kevin Falls, needs to juggle the plot points more adeptly before Journeyman will be solid sci-fi.