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june

6, 2006

Staff Editorial Editor-in-Chief

Jenny Odegard

Managing Editor

Eric Price

Athletics Editor

Craig Rentmeester

Campus Editor Literary Editor sound & vision Editor Voices Editor

Sarah Howard Jacob Duellman Kristen Mueller Cole Dennis

editorial assistants

Alyssa Cogan Dan Olmschenk

SENIOR STAFF WRITERS

Rachel Drewelow Dan Groth

Production production manager

Jeremy Sengly

art director

Sam Soule

photo editor

Brennan Vance

web editor

Luke Preiner

graphic designers

Dave Hagen Eric Price Jeremy Sengly Tara Waller

illustrators

Dave Hagen Alex Judkins Jeremy Sengly

SENIOR PHOTOGRAPHERS photographers copy editors

Stacy Bengs Jessalynn Courtney Ethan Stark Brennan Vance

08 Dorm Life Lowdown In what could very well be considered a cruelly inhumane joke on the part of UofM Housing and Residential Life, every year thousands of helpless incoming freshmen are thrust into the psychotic roommates, horrible music, abysmal food, and binge drinking-fueled vomiting. Join us for a dorm-by-dorm analysis of the good, the bad, and the ugly of living in the university’s much-maligned student housing.

Jenny Odegard Morgon Mae Schultz

BUSINESS office manager pr director PR INTERN

Elizabeth Keely Shaller Cassie Benson Kristin Drews

distributors

Jenny Odegard Eric Price Brennan Vance Chris Wilson

board of directors

James DeLong Paul Froiland Courtney Lewis Kathy Schlecht

CONTRIBUTING WRITERS Michael Divine, Benjamin Faltesek, Amy Fink, Kim Gengler, Haily Gostas, Travis Hetman, Marcus Lewis, Michael Mitchell, Kristen Mueller, Jenny Odegard, Dan Olmschenk, Nathaniel Olson, Eric Price, Laura Rahn, Tyler Rushmeyer, Kay Steiger, Valerie Tukey

10 Summer Events After months spent hibernating inside, isn’t it time to get out? Summertime in Minneapolis brings with it innumerable events and activities—truly, something for everyone, if only you know where to look. Luckily for you, we’ve done the work, so get the lowdown with our calendar.

The Wake was founded by Chris Ruen and James DeLong.

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Volume 4, Issue 22

Letter from the Editor

Where to meet girls

To our readers,

Campus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Pool party Athletics. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hold on to your balls Voices . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Get it together. Please. Literary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Nerds more gangsta than you’ll ever be Sound & Vision . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Uncomfortable... for a lot of reasons Bastard . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Now Hiring

04 05 06 11 12 15

Thank you for picking up the summer issue of The Wake. Many of you are incoming freshman, wandering around orientation clueless, bored, and maybe a little unhappy. The academic planning sessions are boring, the activities are too long, and a normal conversation is hard to find. After my own orientation, as my friends returned from costal cities far more glamorous than the shores of the Mississippi, I felt sure that my college experience would be less than theirs. Less diverse, less intelligent, less engaging, and less fun. What I came to understand instead was that the U is equally if not more diverse, intelligent, engaging and fun—it

just takes a little digging to find that out. And I’d like to offer you The Wake as a shovel. JENNY ODEGARD

Editor-in-Chief

Fall 2006

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Campus

June 6, 2006

emony in style. Naked Barbies were spray-painted gold and given out to the best dressed. In 2004, this may have included students dressed as hobbits in support of Lord of the Rings, or as fish wearing windbreakers, cardboard fins and goggles for Finding Nemo. While the Oscars are awash with drool-worthy men, Ella complains that there “haven’t been a lot of hot guys [in films] recently … We found out the guy in [Aeon Flux], Martin Csokas, is a pan-sexual, and that totally ruined it for me.” Rob Schneider, on the other hand, was a surprisingly popular pick for hottest guy of the year.

A look at the U’s student groups By Kristen Mueller By now you’re well versed in the stats: The U of M faculty teaches 60,000 students on two campuses, some of whom have formed groups of five, coughed up $20, and started one of the 600-plus student groups registered during the 2005-06 school year. These grandiose figures may reassure overwrought parents that their children will be able to find a niche on our sprawling campuses, but they do nothing to reflect the true cultural wealth of the U’s student groups. From the Medieval Combat Society (re-enact your favorite battles from history class with foampadded weapons!) to Keshet (targeted at queer Jewish folk) and the Theater of the Relatively Talentless (a medley of law students who sing and dance in the school’s annual musical), there’s an organization for even the most obscure interest.

AB Kilombo Capoeira “Break dancing took off in New York [in the ’70s] because of Capoeira,” says Andrew Yerkes, president of the Afro-Brazilian Kilombo Capoeira martial art group. Spend a few minutes at one of their biweekly meetings in North Hall or watch the highly dramatized fight scene on the group’s website, www.abcapoeira.com, and you’ll see why. Opponents dance on their hands, swing their legs beneath their bodies, cartwheel, flip and kick— all while bobbing back and forth in an elaborate dance-fight to the beat of Brazilian tambourines, drums and bells. “It’s very rigorous and physically intense,” says Yerkes, a big, lanky guy who didn’t pack much muscle before he joined the club last year.

dave hagen

Campus Crusade for Cthulu (CCC)

A mestre, or teacher, leads each meeting, where a predominantly female crowd practices footwork and attacks before they exercise their hard-won skills in a match.

“People get hurt often,” Andrew says. “I’ve got bruises and scrapes in a lot of different places.” “It’s not like hitting people,” Yerkes says. “You’re always moving with your partner,” and adapting hits to match the speed of the music thrumming through the building’s rundown gymnasium. Although the university’s club emphasizes form over contact, injuries are inevitable when newbies are throwing their weight into a kick aimed two inches from their opponent’s face. “People get hurt often,” Andrew says. “I’ve got

bruises and scrapes in a lot of different places.” But as the saying goes, no pain, no gain.

Chicks with Flicks Grab your best girlfriend (or guyfriend), sneak a piping-hot bag of Pop Secret into your purse (or man bag), sit back, relax, and let the hot guys appear … on the big screen, that is. Chicks with Flicks features movies with “engaging plots, memorable dialogue or uncomfortably attractive men.” “It got out of control,” says the club’s president, Ella Schovanec, while describing the number of people interested in kicking back for a few hours of mindless entertainment and hunky men. “Our email list keeps growing.” Don’t let the group’s name, or mission, fool you. There are plenty of guys in the club too. “They show up to meet girls,” Ella explains. The group meets monthly at Coffman Union or local theaters for new films, and throws a yearly Oscar party in the Great Hall. At this year’s soiree, the boys donned sport coats and ties while the girls dug up old prom dresses to watch the awards cer-

“I started CCC in 2003, after the heartbreak and disappointment of an uneventful millennium,” writes Dan Bayn in an email. “It was then that I realized you can’t just wait around for the apocalypse, you have to do something to make it happen.” In Dan’s case, this meant corralling a few dice and a group of five to 15 imaginative students once a month to play cards and act out role-playing games like Dungeons and Dragons and Call of Cthulu. During the former, Dan writes that students narrate scenes and improv dialogue about “a group of hapless investigators who come face-to-tentacled-face with Things Man Was Not Meant to Know.” The Dread Cthulu is one such creature. H.P. Lovecraft, the cult hero of horror writing, describes the Great Old One as a cross between “an octopus, a dragon and a human caricature” with “a grotesque and scaly body, … rudimentary wings,” and “prodigous claws on hind and fore feet.” And you thought communal showers were scary.

To learn more about the obscene number of student groups hungry for new members, or to find out how to register your own wildly inventive extracurricular with the U, flip open your laptop or hit the nearest computer lab and check out the Student Activity Office’s website: http://www.sao.umn.edu/groups/.

Athletics

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Taking over the world one pool at a time By Valerie Tukey

BRENNAN VANCE

Now that school is finally over, most students have begun to steer their minds away from campus life and into the relaxing days of summer. Some may return home to visit old high school friends. Others will pick up a fun summer job that will help them earn a little spending money. But for the Minnesota women’s swim team, relaxation is the last thing on their minds. With a 2nd place finish at the Big Ten Championship this year, along with a handful of new school records, the Gopher swimmers are on a roll. And what most students fail to realize is that for the swim team, the excitement is just beginning. Why? Because this summer, nine of the women will travel to Irvine, CA to compete in one of the nation’s fastest swim meets—World Championship Trials. The meet will be held during the first week of August and acts as a gateway to participate in three major national teams. If the women swim fast enough, they will have a chance to represent the United States at the World Championship Games, the World University Games or the Pan American Games. “Even if my chance of making one of the teams is small, it is still possible,” says Katie Wind, a 21year-old student at the U. Since she qualified for the United States Olympic Team Trials last summer, Wind plans to swim until 2008 even though she graduated this year. “I just love swimming,” she says. “I am not ready to be done because I know I can keep getting faster.” And getting faster is exactly what the Gophers are doing. This year the Gophers successfully rearranged the record boards with nine new school records. What’s more, compared to a team of only one girl last year, this year the Gophers took 10 to the NCAA Championship. So, with a pile of great swims behind them, the Gopher National Team will enter the World Championship Trials with confidence. “I just know that I will do well,” says sophomore Stacy Busack. “Since I swam so well at Big Tens, I have so much more confidence that I will

swim well this summer.” Unlike Wind, this will be Busack’s first appearance at World Championship Trials. Although she may lack some national experience, with her 2nd place finish at Big Tens in the 50 yard freestyle, she has a good chance at qualifying for one of the three teams. “A lot of the girls have a shot at getting on a team,” says co-head coach Kelly Kremer. And with national exposure, Minnesota’s swim team will gain more popularity. “A big team at World Championship Trials raises the competitive level of our program,” says Kremer. “People will start to realize that you can go to Minnesota and swim at the highest level.” The break down of the three meets is simple. If swimmers finish 1st or 2nd in their event at World Championship Trials, they automatically qualify for the World Championship team. The next step below the World Team is the World University Team. Since only college swimmers can qualify, some of the Gopher women have an opportunity to be a part of this team. If they qualify, they will represent America and compete in Thailand in August of next year. Finally, the swimmers that don’t make the first two teams have a chance to be a part of the Pan American Team—a meet between North and South America. “I don’t even know what to expect,” says team captain Jenny Hasling. “The idea of someone from Minnesota qualifying for an international team is just amazing to me.” Although it may seem amazing, it is very possible. The World University Team will take on 26 men and 26 women from colleges through out the United States. And with the younger swimmers eliminated it leaves an opening for the Gophers. “I just feel like we are all so supportive of each other,” notes Hasling. “If someone from our school makes the team, they won’t only be representing our country. They will be representing everyone who swims for the University of Minnesota.” And with that kind of support, the Gopher swimmers can’t go wrong.

Voices

June 6, 2006

Jeremy Sengly

Men, Keep an Eye on Your Balls Testicular cancer actually happens

by Nathaniel Olson Guys, is there anything more singularly terrifying than the possibility of some unexplained ailment in your favorite area? Such feelings could cause one to propose a question: What’s worse, a splintering pain rocketing through your nads every five minutes, or having to explain this feeling—with visual aids—to some estranged nurse in a cold doctor’s office between classes? Once I was staying at my sister’s house in Oregon, and in the shower there was a laminated poster that described how women should perform monthly breast exams. It had cartoon pictures similar to those of airplane exit strategy cards: bland, thoughtless faces angled downward at the afflicted area, and a hand with three fingers prodding the region in a manner completely devoid of eroticism. But the notion that a group of young women living together had a frequent reminder to perform these tasks made me realize that information like this is not properly provided for males. Sure, some of us attend the occasional physical, where cold hands explore us uninvitingly, but what about the other eleven months of the year? Once, a physician told me, “Poke around once a month or so make sure there are no lumps or anything.” Isn’t that a little vague? Doc, what exactly do these lumps even feel like? Some might attribute my concern to a state of hypochondria, but if you’ve ever had to lock yourself in a dormitory bathroom stall to pass a kidney stone, you tend to want to take better care of yourself. So here it is, guys: a concise, do-it-yourself guide to ensuring testicular health. Dr. Jon Pryor, professor and chair of the Department of Urologic Surgery at the U, recommends that men check for lumps once per month. The problem with checking too frequently is that a man might not notice the subtle changes in size of a particular lump. It should be done in a warm shower, so the skin is

looser and the testicles more movable. One hand should stabilize the testicle while the other hand examines the entire surface of with the thumb and forefinger. The lumps that could indicate a possible problem are hard and often about the size of peas, though Dr. Pryor has seen some as big as marbles, and others as large as baseballs. Other signs that there is a problem in the testicles include testicular pain (though this can also be a sign of epididymitis, testicular torsion, and a myriad of STDs) or a presence of blood in the semen. Testicular cancer is more frequently seen in men between their late teens and 30s. It is also more common in men whose testes did not descend as children. If detected early, the survival rate is almost one hundred percent. It is, however, an incredibly fast growing problem, so if ignored, it will spread to other parts of the body and treatment becomes much more difficult. In contrast to some sexual education topics, this sort of information is certainly not controversial. Those of certain groups who maintain that some information, like proper condom use, ought not to be taught in school because it conflicts with their morality, have no proper arguments to oppose this type of information being given to students. In a situation such as this, it is crucially important to detect these problems early, and often young males might be a little embarrassed to tell their parents or make a doctor’s appointment. What’s most important is that males understand that certain ailments ought not to be ignored, even if confronting them is embarrassing. Remember, they’re your only balls, and they have to last you a while. Treat them well and they’ll do you the same favor. Oh, and one last piece of advice: remember, if you’re ever caught in “the act,” you weren’t desecrating the temple that is your body, you were checking for cancer. Who would be opposed to that?

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Adult Happy Meals Super-sizing your health? By Amy Fink Alex Judkins

For a limited time, McDonald’s is offering a guide for a healthy, exercise-filled lifestyle with the new Go Active! Happy Meal for adults. Instead of getting a toy, however, McDonald’s is offering a virtual personal trainer. The meal includes any Premium Salad, a Dasani® water or medium or larger drink and one of four 15 minute exercise DVDs from Yourself!Fitness featuring Maya, the virtual personal trainer. The offer is part of a campaign launched in May 2004 called the McDonald’s Go Active! American Challenge. But 15 minutes might not be enough, since many of the salads offered are not necessarily a healthier alternative to the other menu choices— though they can be if chosen wisely. Take the Bacon Ranch Salad with crispy chicken. That alone is a total of 48 percent of one’s recommended daily intake of fat—340 calories and 16 grams of fat from the salad itself and another 170 calories and 15 grams of fat from the dressing. One could choose to have grilled chicken for 37 percent of a day’s fat (or no chicken at all) but there’s no question that the crispy chicken makes a Bacon Ranch Salad complete.

A McDonald’s statement shows that in the United States more than 200 million Premium Salads were served in 2004. According to a McDonald’s press release, McDonald’s served an average of 35 million people every day in 1995. Though figures could not be found for this year, since 1996, McDonald’s has nearly doubled its revenues, with almost $20.5 billion in 2005. In comparison, the 200 million salads sold in 2004 isn’t that much, and it’s the other high-fat meals with which McDonald’s appears to have run into enough trouble to need the first-ever adult Happy Meal to hand out exercise DVDs. In 2004 Morgan Spurlock conducted an experiment for his documentary Super Size Me after hearing0 about two overweight teenagers who brought a lawsuit against McDonald’s for their conditions. Spurlock ate McDonald’s three meals a day for 30 days, causing his cholesterol to rise 65 points and putting him at risk for numerous serious diseases, in addition to 24.6 pounds of weight gain. A few subsequent studies only supported the claims in theory, including one at the University of Miami, which showed that just one high-fat meal— in the case of the study, breakfast at McDonald’s—

can cause measurable damage to the blood vessels in less than a day. In light of findings and accusations that numerous fast food chains are key contributors to America’s growing obesity problem, McDonald’s has made some efforts to provide alternatives to the high-fat meals and guidance for a healthier lifestyle. Working with Bob Greene, Oprah Winfrey’s personal trainer, McDonald’s launched its Go Active! American Challenge in May 2004, when Greene bicycled and walked more than 3,000 miles in 36 days. McDonald’s has also teamed with various nutrition experts to provide tips for the company and consumers for better American lifestyles. In the new Nutrition Information Initiative, by the end of 2006, McDonald’s plans to have these facts in easy-to-read formats in-store worldwide, on table tents, tray liners, brochures and packaging, in addition to the nutrition and food section of their Web site. “Our goal is to provide customers with options and information that prove smart health decisions can be great-tasting, affordable and, above all, fun,” said nutrition expert Dr. Cathy Kapica in

a statement on the McDonald’s Web site. “It’s especially important for people to achieve the right balance between the amount of calories consumed and the amount burned off through physical activity.” Though the McDonald’s menu includes a range of options and serving sizes for balance, variety, and moderation, even with nutrition facts available, it’s still difficult to sort through the options without exceeding the recommended numbers for one meal. Simply trying smaller portions isn’t as easy as it may seem. How about a cheeseburger and a small fries? With 35 percent of the daily value of fat, 540 calories and 23 grams of fat it would seem like a pretty average sized meal. But what adult could be filled up on a kid’s Happy Meal? Try for a little healthier combination—say, the McChicken. Make that an Extra Value Meal with a medium fries and a Coke®. That certainly doesn’t seem like it could be too bad, but it’s 49 percent of the day’s fat. Hope that filled you up enough to go without dinner. We’re right back where we started. The Bacon Ranch Salad with crispy chicken, please. And that shiny coaster with the virtual chick.

Photo Poll: What is your least favorite law?

Laura (Senior)

Ben (Senior)

Jaime (Senior)

Julie (Senior)

“Anti-polygamy”

“Newton’s Conservation of Motion”

“The anti-fireworks law. They made the good kind of fireworks illegal. What the fuck?”

“Butterfly knifes and cannons. Both illegal.”

Feature

June 6, 2006

Bailey

By Amy Fink If you prefer the quiet life and having big, strong horse legs, Bailey is the residence for you. Located atop a hill on the west edge of the St. Paul campus, Bailey is home to those on the small, more private campus at the far end of the University Transitway. The lower lounge has a kitchen, vending machine, pool table and pingpong table, but don’t expect the equipment for them to last long. Aside from activities at Rock Bottom—a community and social space, a few frats, farms and a cute little coffee shop, there’s very little else nearby, but the Rec Center is just down the block. There’s a Campus Connector bus that comes frequently, but expect a 20-30 minute commute to the East or West banks. The dining hall is conveniently connected to the dorm, but while the food there isn’t the worst on campus, it’s far from the best.

Centennial By Haily Gostas

In comparison to Pioneer, which is without elevators and air conditioning, or the strictly-freshman auditory horrors of Territorial and Frontier, Centennial Hall comes off as the university’s Ritz-Carlton. This fourth member of the Superblock certainly has its luxuries. It’s home to the largest dining hall in the block and a C3 grocery store-esque market—although the food’s quality and price leaves plenty to be desired. The best part? Singles, baby! Centennial is made up almost entirely of decently sized single rooms, which bodes well for those looking to avoid getting stuck with/ puked on/sexiled by that slutty alcoholic kleptomaniac roommate from hell. If double-bunking isn’t your bag, this is the best place to fly solo.

Sanford

By Michael Mitchell The words Sanford Hall never fail to elicit the following response: “I hear they have really good food.” It’s true, and its one of many bragging rights that the residents of this dorm can claim. In addition to culinary excellence, Sanford is situated on University Avenue, in close proximity to Dinkytown and many fraternities (if you’re into that sort of thing). Naturally, this prime location ensures that Sanford residents are more knowledgeable about the hip hangouts of Dinkytown than their superblock peers. If you’re looking to get the most out of your meal plan, and if you enjoy the constant din of keg parties, Sanford Hall is the place for you.

Feature

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Comstock

By Jenny Odegard Just far enough away from the 24-hour Superblock party and nestled against the upper-classmen in Yudof Hall, Comstock is University Housing’s answer to awkward social situations. The rooms are spacious and have their own sinks—a convenience not to be overlooked. On top of this, Comstock is about five minutes from most classroom buildings. While the isolation from the other herds of freshman doesn’t at first seem an issue, as winter falls and you wonder what happened to all your friends, and that view of the river isn’t such a good consolation prize. Enter: pretending to like your weird smorgasbord of neighbors. Good luck. On a Friday in February that’s too cold for you to leave the building, you will suddenly realize that you have no idea how to get to the other side to see your friends of the opposite sex without passing the security guard and at least one CA in the lobby. Plus, the horrible cafeteria food you crammed down before UDS’s worst venue’s 6:30 p.m. closing time is starting to roll around in your stomach. If you do end up in Comstock, be sure to load up on EasyMac and take time in the first few days to navigate your way through the basement to the elevator by the laundry room — it takes you up to the boys’ side.

Frontier

By Kristen Mueller

Territorial

By Tyler Rushmeyer One of four residential halls that make up the Superblock, T-Hall is a great place for the freshmen experience. Carpeted rooms and air conditioners that rarely work provide for moderate comfort as you awkwardly sit in silence with your new roommate. As for nutritional needs, a walk down the stairs and through the tunnel will lead you to the dingy confines of the Centennial Hall dining room. Is it worth $7 a meal? Probably not. But as you valiantly strive for the freshmen 15, there’s no place like Centennial on a late night, where you can stuff your face with greasy food rather than study for pointless generals. Overall, T-Hall is the cream of the crop for freshmen living, where all types of people can come together in dorm-room boxes and forget about high school.

Cramming 735 freshmen into a swastika-shaped dorm is asking for madness. Trust me, I’ve been there— and lived to tell the alcohol-soaked tale. Before I get into the details, I should mention that underage drinking is forbidden in the residence halls. Of course, that pesky technicality didn’t hinder anyone from blending margaritas on top of their University-issued bookshelves or knocking back shots in the room neighboring our CA. When things inevitably got out of hand, there tended to be a bathroom involved—and not just for regurgitating the night’s boxed wine and Chipotle burritos. I’ve watched a friend flounder on the communal shower floor in a futile attempt to sober up; nearly stepped on a girl who passed out between a row of toilets and sinks (she was wrapped in a blanket and cushioned by a pillow); and turned a corner to witness a student pissing on our CA’s door. I don’t doubt that most of you will encounter similar circumstances—I just hope your friends are lucid enough to haul your trashed ass to a real bed, preferably with a Target-issued trashcan below to catch the night’s remains.

Middlebrook By Kim Gengler

Here is the all-important phrase for dorm dwellers: individual bathrooms. Yes, Middlebrook houses those elitist honors students, but they come with non-comunal bathrooms. During my time there, I never had to tote my toiletries down the hall past everyone and their parents, a major advantage to living in the “freak” dormitory. But what gives Middlebrook this different reputation? Well, there are the arts floors and the drama kings and queens that reside there. These visual- and performing-arts students have a knack for living life as it is depicted on soap operas, which means they have their ups and downs daily. As mentioned, honors students also lurk in Middlebrook, making it quite eerie. Personally, I delighted in the contrasts amid the groups and found the people that were somewhere in between the two extremes remain my friends.

Thu., June 8: Boy Least Likely To w/ Bicycles @ Varsity Theater Sat., June 10: Brother and Sister scavenger hunt show Sat., June 10: Capture the Flag @ The Walker Sculpture Garden Sun., June 11: Public grand opening of new art wing @ Minneapolis Institute of the Arts Wed., June 14: Kinetic Kitchen dance series @ Varsity Theater Thu., June 15: Dykes Do Drag @ Bryant-Lake Bowl Sat., June 17: See Dick Shoot (and Other Signs of the Apocalypse) @ Brave New Workshop Sat., June 17-18: Stone Arch Festival of the Arts @ Stone Arch Bridge Sun., June 18: Battle of the Underage Underground @ First Avenue Wed., June 21-24: Queer Takes film series @ The Walker Arts Center

Fri., June 30: Birthday Suits w/ Spider Fighter @ The Entry (First Avenue)

Thu., June 22: Enemy Entropist @ The Dinkytowner

Sat., July 1: Artsourcing (gallery show) @ The Soap Factory

Fri., June 23: Fiery Furnaces w/ We Are Scientists @ First Avenue

Tue., July 4: 10 Second Film Festival @ The Soap Factory

Fri., June 23: Bryant Lake Bowl Block Party @ Bryant-Lake Bowl

Fri., July 7: Psychedelic Furs w/ Electric Six @ The Minnesota Zoo

Sun., June 25: Lake Street Music Fest

Fri., July 7: Four McKnight Artists Exhibition @ Minneapolis College of Art and Design

Wed., June 28: The Mystery of the Stolen Jug (film) @ Varsity Theater Thu., June 29: Rock Show Posters by Adam Ciferri @ Bryant-Lake Bowl Thu., June 29-July 2: Women in Hip Hop Summit @ Intermedia Arts

Sun., July 9: Panic! at the Disco w/ Dresden Dolls @ Myth Nightclub Wed., July 12: Ramsey County Fair in Maplewood Wed., July 12: Wicked (theater) @ Orpheum Theater

Literary

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Ranting About the State of Poetry

For the Copilot by Travis Hetman I wish I had a passenger seat on my bicycle No handle bars for you but a view Just the same to be shared like an icicle On the ground with the rest of the dew

By Dan Olmschenk “Beauty is truth, truth beauty,” —John Keats, 1819

Goggles and pilot caps to wear on head No bandanas but we’d have style Just the same to be shared like bread On jam, in the spring, meanwhile

When Keats states this epic line in “Ode to a Grecian Urn” he is demonstrating the power of literature; something that is taken for granted in our society. In this quote, Keats is announcing the ability of the image-poem-lie to speak a truth more powerful than the truth itself. The writer of today looks upon poetry as a way to “vent”, as if its greatest power lies in the personal. All the memoirs and self indulgent poetry take up the majority of our literature. Why? Is it because people are now incapable of thinking about what they are reading or is it because writers are incapable of writing universal truths? Writers are lazy. They (and by they I mean we) don’t take the time anymore to learn the art. No one writes in form anymore; it seems most people couldn’t pick out blank verse from free verse. Poetry is hard; when I think of the amount of sugar and caffeine it took for me to get through a sonnet I want to vomit. But the struggle is neces-

We will race the wind But before it can begin With welding and hammer, pails and nails In a dirty garage filled with a mess I’ll build you the box car hoping it sails For happiness and nothing less

A Modern Day Breakup By Laura Rahn A young man was on the phone and engaged in a heated fight with his girlfriend outside in the stairwell. Obscenities were screamed, curses were muttered, under-the breath-threats were offered and countered. And then…a faint beep. A meep really, to tell the truth. The hormonal young man had hung up on the words of the offending female. For the eavesdropper in the next room, this climax of the young lovers’ angst was terribly anti-climactic. The second meep through the wall indicated the temperamental young man to be equally unsatisfied as he pushed buttons in anger. But instead of inspiring images of the wronged lover fed up and taking his vengeance, were instead images of baby chicks. As the unsatisfied young man stormed down the stairs, one could not wonder whether the inability to offer a resounding click would finally be the end of the cell phone. Where was the slamming of the phone into the receiver? The picking it up and slamming it down again—harder? Heck, where was the throwing of the base against the wall? Apparently, these images seem to be stuck somewhere back in the twentieth century, around the same time as leg warmers and heavy rock. The size of the phone has gotten increasingly smaller while its effectiveness in breaking-up couples has diminished exponentially. Convenience seems to have trumped the need for satisfactory fits of rage. And what about the equally angry partner on the other end? Was she devastated by the gentle beep in her ear? Did she even know she had been hung up on? More likely she kept talking, while checking her reception bars. Only when they did not light up did it dawn on her that she had been the victim of the phone-slam. And then, did she offer up a silent prayer that he would call her back? More likely she attempted text-messaging her friends, but finding the tiny buttons unforgiving to her livid thumbs, she pushed the more convenient redial button instead. On the other end, he heard his

phone ring, not the angry, sharp ring of old, but the peppy ring of Britney Spears’ “Hit Me Baby One More Time.” He beeps his phone again. She snaps her tastefully slim Nokia shut. They both sit, stare, and feel strangely un-vindicated. But it is not the result of immediate melancholy or lustful thoughts. No, each lover is feeling unfulfilled by the transaction. The lack of something concrete to slam, the absence of a sharp click in the ear, and the clumsy execution (for when slamming a phone, one can hang up immediately; when cell-slamming one must remove the phone from the ear and look at it in order to locate the red button before hanging up and, alas, by this time, the point may in fact, be moot) are frankly against the very nature of the angry breakup. They separately contemplate throwing the itty bitty phone/calculator/camera/palm pilot/casino they hold in their sweaty hands, but are held back by the knowledge that they do not have sufficient funds to replace the broken life-line. No, for these star-crossed lovers drama does not come cheap. As they realize this, perhaps they look down at their color-coded cellie and realize all the work it will be to re-program their rings, numbers, and pager numbers in order to de-program their formerflame out of their life. And perhaps at this moment, she gets into her SUV and he into his Benz, and they drive to the nearest Target. In the deserted and dusty phone-aisle as they both reach for the same rotary model, their eyes meet. He places the phone into her basket, grabs the one remaining phone for himself, and they walk off to the check-out. Determined, as young lovers are, that they will never fight again, but if they do, they will at least be able to execute it properly and with sufficient drama. Alas, old fashioned lovers’ spats have triumphed over modern technology.

sary. We as writers cannot expect to write universal truths greater or equal to our predecessors if we don’t understand where art has already been and where it can go. On the topic of placing the talent of the poet, T.S. Eliot wrote, “You cannot value him (the poet) alone; you must set him, for contrast and comparison, among the dead” (Tradition… 1919). No one can become a great poet without reading the great poetry of the past and learning from it. I’m sorry to all you “experimentalists” out there but, being different doesn’t mean you’re writing anything worthwhile. I’m sick of this “looking in on a personal entry” poetry. You’re writing for other people! It should make sense to others, or at least hold enough power and relation to the world that makes the reader react in some emotional/intellectual way. I heard a fellow student in my writing class say that poetry is dry, that everything has already been written about. Poetry has been around for hundreds of years, and now, in 2006 poetry is dead? Think about it, poetry can’t dry up as long as people exist and continue changing. That’s the problem with personal poetry; writing has to find a place in society to grow. Free expression is the basis of all the arts, but an unfocused, self-indulgent, journal entry doesn’t teach anyone anything worth remembering. It is in connection with society and the relation to the past that we learn. So please, if you’re going to write for others, spare us your break-up story unless we can learn something about suffering or sadness or whatever. Poetry is too influential and penetrating to waste on anything less than beauty and truth.

Crimson By Benjamin Faltesek Carelessly caring, mindlessly sharing, I went through meetings never meant to meet While, through capillators thoughtless bearing, Our minds bead on anti-absorbent sheets. How now brown cow? too true blue moo she said To you and I as we lay fitful dying. His throat and wrists ran crimson as he bled, Departed, and never thought of crying. Trying to put conjecture into verse Goes easier with a little liquor, But the headache next morning makes it worse And shows better goes not always quicker. Quicker to go by gas, they told him blithely, Shut their doors and argued when to snicker Just enough and when one’s soul grows lively. At last I turned away and let them bicker.

Sound&Vision

June 6, 2006 alex judkins

Ol’ Dirty Bastard blasted through the speakers as I walked into MC Frontalot’s 21-plus show on May 28. To my left, a stuffed dear head occupied the center of a small stage, while around me was a sea of guys in ponytails and glasses, who seemed less concerned with looking tough than making sure the Galaga arcade machine stayed occupied. This was not a typical hip-hop crowd, but it gave a look into the scene that Nerdcore is beginning to create. A man in his 20s who occupies himself with “Dungeons and Dragons” rarely conjures up thoughts of a hip-hop emcee. But MC Frontalot, a self-proclaimed nerd from San Francisco, is turning the bad-

Revenge of the

nerds May Not Be Such a Bad Thing

After All

A night with MC Frontalot BY Tyler Rushmeyer

Instead of bling and brand names, Frontalot dons freshly pressed ties, thick glasses, and a beadlamp to rap about the internet and video games—not money and hoes. boy-dominated genre on its head. Instead of bling and brand names, Frontalot dons freshly pressed ties, thick glasses, and a headlamp to rap about the internet and video games—not money and hoes. True to tech-geek form, Frontalot (a.k.a. Damien Hess), got his start posting MP3s online before releasing a full-length album last year. The disc, Nerdcore Rising, takes a humorous, tonguein-cheek approach to topics from the war on terror to a crime spree of jaywalking and ripping tags from mattresses. Since his CD release, Frontalot, along with keyboardist GMinor7, drummer The Sturgenius, and bassist Blak Lotus, has attracted nerds and non-nerds alike, playing small shows in California and the Penny Arcade gaming convention—which makes perfect sense after hearing the disc’s Nintendo-esque tracks, composed by Badd Spellah. Opening act St. Pauli Grla seemed to confuse the group of onlookers more than anything. Tak-

ing the stage in a filthy rabbit suit, Grla rambled over beats emitting from an iPod as if he had hit the bar before the show. Between the incoherent yelling and moaning, on songs with titles like, “Snakes on a Plane” and, “Hippo Rodeo,” Grla provided little more than a few cheap laughs before finally bowing out, cradling the stuffed deer head to his body. Twenty minutes later, The Sturgenius walked onstage to launch the main act, with G-Minor7 and Blak Lotus soon joining him in a jam session that concluded with MC Frontalot appearing in his trademark attire. As the rapper’s headlamp shone into the crowd, Frontalot’s robot-like movements were the perfect accompaniment to his frantic vocals, which often switched speeds but always remained on track. Meanwhile, Lotus plucked away at his bass, the head of which resembled a five-inch floppy disk. It was G-Minor7, however, who stole the show with his innovative keyboard riffs and high-pitched croon, when not energetically dancing into the sparse crowd. The two also contributed to the melodic hooks scattered throughout most tracks, creating threepart vocal harmonies with Frontalot. The lyrics were humorous and light-hearted, aside from the politically charged “Special Delivery,” an attack on Bush’s war laced with his samples of his numerous war-time speeches, which drew the largest crowd response of the night. When not singing or showing off their disco dance moves, the crew kept the mild-mannered audience amused by rolling a novelty 20-sided dice, rattling off bad jokes (What did the zero say to the eight? Nice belt.), and even busting out Magic cards, which drew heavy applause from their fans. For their finale, the group also orchestrated a singalong to their album’s single, “Nerdcore Rising.” Despite his growing success, Frontalot calls himself the “579th greatest rapper in the world” on his website, which just goes to show that the king of the nerds still has a long way to go before Nerdcore, his self-designed sub-genre of funky hip hop, becomes an MTV staple. With a national tour underway, his fan base is only likely to grow as he spreads his frenzied stylings from Spartanburg to Kalamazoo.

Remixing North Minneapolis Juxtaposition Arts breaks out of old stereotypes by kay steiger As I drove into North Minneapolis I saw four people standing on each corner of the ramps to Highway 52, holding signs on a 100-degree afternoon that read, “Homeless. Please help.” Four blocks down is the intersection of Emerson Avenue and West Broadway, a throughway where cars sit impatiently at lights and pedestrians walk by broken-down buildings. The intersection hinges three Minneapolis neighborhoods: Jordan, Hawthorne and Near-North. The vast majority of their population is minorities, with somewhere between 30 and 40 percent of families that fall below the poverty line—a rate more than double Minneapolis’ average. Amid the decay and desolation stands Juxtaposition Arts. The 11-year-old nonprofit group moved into the neighborhood two years ago, and

now makes it part of their mission to allow the people who live and walk along West Broadway to express themselves through public art. “It reflects the people that live here,” says DeAnna Cummings, Juxtaposition’s executive director. The kidcreated, intergalactic “Got Milk” mural on the Kemps building has become an integral part of the neighborhood. An ongoing project, Remix, began three years ago after receiving funding for a research assistant from the University of Minnesota. Satoko Muratake, a graduate student of landscape architecture, pushed Juxtaposition’s staff into thinking of new ways to invest in the urban and natural environment around them. Since then, the U has lent credibility and resources to the program: students study concept design and research neighborhood history and precedents passed in cities around the country. Now, two classes of 20 students in the U’s Design Institute devote an entire semester to planning achievable projects for North Minneapolis. Children in K-12th grade partnered with James

See “Juxtaposition,” page 14

ethan stark

Sound & Vision

www.wakemag.org

Ethan Stark

By Michael Divine Our quest began bright and early on a Sunday in May. The goal: find a perfect hang out spot to drink high quality, made-on-the-spot microbrew. Our team consisted of three; Rob Fisk, cofounder and charter member of the University of Minnesota Homebrewing Club, chef Leair Caudle of Kincaid’s restaurant in St. Paul (as well as an Oktoberfest veteran) and myself. After many hours, countless empty glasses, and one middle-aged male admirer, we’re prepared to declare our choice for local favorites. We started at Great Waters Brewing Company in downtown St. Paul. The bartender knew nothing about beer—he even claimed that we probably knew more about the drinks they served than he did (and he was right). Despite being repeatedly told to “wait ‘til Brewmaster Bob gets here, he’ll talk your ear off,” an hour of drinking passed with no sign of the resident expert. The beer itself wasn’t bad though. The Blackwatch Oat Stout received the highest oat stout score of the afternoon, thanks to its perfect cascading appearance and enigmatic flavors (was that chocolate?). But the smoothness of the beer was overshadowed by the bitterness of the bill. Although we requested to split the pints for the sake of sampling, we were still charged the full price for each partial

glass, making this a bank-breaking visit. Later that afternoon, in discussions of Great Waters, the term “elitist,” as well as several choice expletives, came up repeatedly. Our next stop, Rock Bottom Brewery in downtown Minneapolis’ LaSalle Plaza, was a pleasant contrast. This upscale chain contained both high quality beer and knowledgeable bartenders, making it the perfect place to take your beer connoisseur parents on their next visit. An ample assortment of standard, seasonal and cask beers provide a respectable variety to satiate every preference, and the friendly staff are more than willing to provide samples to help you settle on just one (or two or three). Rob and I enjoyed the Intoxicator Dopplebock, while Leair’s favorite was the El Jefe Weizen, which we were told is only the first of brewmaster Bryon Tonnis’ “Wheat” series. The overwhelming characteristic of the Weizen was the distinct taste of banana and clove, but—to our surprise—was served sans lemon wedge. The Dopple had impressive depth, and the cask selections we tried had just the right amount of natural carbonation. There wasn’t a single beer we tried that we didn’t enjoy, and their pool tables are also pretty nice. The third stop on our trek was Herkimer’s,

the only micropub in Uptown with a shuffleboard league. I came here expecting it to be bad, wanting it to be bad, and anticipating writing a terrible review. Luckily for them we were hungry, and the food was good. Our pseudo-vegetarian friend had an impressive looking fish sandwich, while the rest of us split an order of sweet potato fries, a happy hour bargain. We sampled a Tooler’s Weiss—which turned out to be the best we tasted all day (despite brewmaster Dave Harman’s excuses about the difficulties of using first generation hops). The lager left quite a bit to be desired, disappointing our German panelist, but the Alt Bier easily made up for it. With great service, decent food, and a free jukebox (with an admirable selection of Soul Coughing tunes), Herkimer’s is a great place to lift a pint after an eventful evening on Minneapolis’ south side.

With so many microbreweries around town, there’s no excuse for drinking bad beer. The last stop on our bar hop was the Town Hall Brewery, a beer lover’s oasis conveniently located near campus on Washington Ave S. This is the kind of place you go if you want to meet friends after a long week of studying, or if you just want to toss one back on a particularly tough weeknight. The beer is

Supergroup Super Suspicious by marcus lewis It’s summer, and summer means mint juleps and reality TV. Leave it to VH1 to fulfill one half of the equation by way of their newest contrived reality show, Supergroup. This show fulfills my dream of combining those metal countdown VH1 shows with The Surreal Life into one solid block of easyaccess TV—finally, a supreme synthesis! Naturally, this leaves me more time to develop more perfect mint julep recipes, so it’s nothing but a win-win situation. Except that Supergroup isn’t just a casual entertainment experience, but rather an attempt at marginalizing both the history of rock and roll and the English language itself.

The premise of the show is simple. VH1 has formed a band in which none of the members know the other members ahead of time. This band is to be a “supergroup” that will, as the website of the show proclaims, “descend on Las Vegas” and “save rock and roll.” Ostensibly, it is five rock stars with twelve days to get a gig together. Except that they aren’t stars. The term “supergroup” first came into the lexicon in 1968 with the album Super Session, which featured Mike Bloomfield, Stephen Stills, and Al Kooper. It came to apply specifically to bands formed by members of other well-known bands, creating something more powerful than the original band. Crosby, Stills and Nash is a

great, the atmosphere is unobtrusive, and you can sit on big plush couches and watch large television sets while enjoying your beverage. The Hope and King Scotch Ale (a Great American Beer Festival medalist), and the India Brown Ale had unique flavors: obvious risks were taken with both blends, scoring brewer Mike Hoops some serious brownie points. The India Pale Ale’s (IPAs) here were some of the better ones sampled, with both the Masala Mama and the Cask scoring very well. Overall, this establishment’s average ratings were the highest of the day, making it a must visit for all, plus a prime candidate for my new favorite bar. With so many microbreweries around town, there’s no excuse for drinking bad beer. If you decide to venture outside of the Twin Cities, Granite City (with locations in Maple Grove, Eagan, and St. Cloud), has a decent IPA and serves beefed-up pints (20 ounces compared to 16) for only $2 after 10 p.m. Barley John’s in New Brighton has a respectable following, as does Fitgers in Duluth. Gaining popularity is Green Mill’s microbrewery on Grand, and for a really fun afternoon take a trip to Vine Park Brewery, where for a reasonable cost, they’ll help you brew your own. If you try all the places mentioned above and still can’t find something good, join the Campus Homebrew club—they’re always accepting new members and are happy to mentor young beer enthusiasts. Of course, should you find (or brew) something particularly good, send a case our way—we’d be happy to evaluate it for you. Cheers!

photo courtesy of vh1

prime example, with Crosby coming from The Byrds, Stills from Buffalo Springfield,

The simple fact that three of Supergroup’s “super” members are from bands that I have never heard of is problematic.

and Nash from The Hollies. A traditional supergroup needs to include super members of super well-known bands. Supergroup lacks both. Instead, the group is comprised of Sebastian Bach of Skid Row and reality TV fame, Scott Ian of Anthrax and VH1 metal countdown fame, some guy married to a porn star, and John Bonham’s son. The only member who might be called “super” is Ted Nugent, who himself has both reality TV show and supergroup experience (playing briefly in monster ballad pioneers The Damn Yankees, a conglomerate of himself, Night Ranger, and Styx). The simple fact that three of Supergroup’s “super” members are from bands that I have never heard

See “Supergroup,” page 14

Sound & Vision

June 6, 2006

Gnarls Barkley

St. Elsewhere

wunderkind DJ Danger Mouse. The unlikely duo make music like a manic preacher praising heaven’s bad-ass beats. Nearly three years in the making, St. Elsewhere is a well-tuned catastrophe, sprinkled with schizophrenic confections that tackle feng shui, necrophilia and the Violent Femmes. The disc’s opener, “Go-Go Gadget Gospel,” leaps from the speakers like a church ballad on speed, swelling, swirling and threatening to tear down the roof and incur God’s wrath. Cee-Lo’s over-the-top lyrics such as, “Shapeless, formless, heart is enormous/I’m free, look at me/freedom in hi-fidelity!” only add to the massive sound’s weight. Then it stops, suddenly, as most of St. Else-

where’s songs do, and slides into “Crazy,” an infectious old-school-meets-new-school smash hit. “You think you’re in control?/I think you’re crazy/Does that make me crazy?/Probably,” Cee-Lo howls indecisively, as Burton reinforces the theme of glamorous insanity with his wildly unpredictable tempos and textures. Balancing guilty pop perfection with surprisingly smart song construction, the album clocks in and out just long enough to both get the party started and keep it going without overstaying its welcome. When Cee-Lo demands “Come rock with me baby/dance with me darlin’/step with me sweetheart/the world is watching,” you’ll gladly obey.

The bands that have emerged from Montreal obscurity in the past few years have damn near created their own genre. The Arcade Fire, Wolf Parade, Belle Orchestre, The Lovely Feathers— and they all to possess a sound that is consistently big and always building.. Though somewhat thieved

from the Byrnes and Bowies before them, the sound is still undeniably epic in that chase-after-your-estranged-lover-in-an-airport-before-they-board-aplane sort of way. Sunset Rubdown (arguably the frontrunner for best band name), is just one in the kaleidoscope of projects helmed by Spencer Krug. Providing vocals and instrumentation for aforementioned indie darlings Wolf Parade, the darker, more frantic Frog Eyes, Krug is the unlikely pioneer of this musical coup. Shut Up I Am Dreaming, Sunset Rubdown’s second full-length album from Absolutely Kosher Records, sounds just as gigantic as its predecessors. But what sets it apart are the tinges of vulnerability beneath an overwhelmingly powerful sound, like an unabashed admittance of fear before a big leap.

Krug’s smoldering howl fit only for numbing, full-bodied lyrics, like “I am a creature/and I am survivin’/and I want to be alone/but I want your body/Oh baby, mother me before you eat me”. When they’re sandwiched between his band’s plunking cabaret piano, haunted house guitars and earthshaking drum beats, hearts will sink. “Stadiums and Shrines II” and “Shut Up I Am Dreaming Of A Place Where Lovers Have Wings,” are the disc’s arresting bookends, and also its best tracks. “There’s a kid in there, and he’s big, and dumb, and he’s kinda scared,” Krug cries, reminding us that the oh-god-they’re-about-to-get-married-to-the-wrong-person-I-have-to-stop-thewedding kind of love will always be terrifying, and, much like “Shut Up I Am Dreaming”, will always make our palms sweat and pulses pound.

Still, the pair’s attraction is obvious, giving viewers the feeling they’ve stumbled upon a broadcasted courting ritual. The film itself is exactly how you would picture copulation between Barney and Björk to be—totally bizarre, mildly terrifying, admittedly erotic and narrated by the construction and collapse of a large-scale sculpture of petroleum jelly. Barney became fascinated with the aforementioned tower of lubricant while devising the script. The figure’s process of molding, solidifying and eventually drifting apart in glacial fashion serves as one of the film’s primary metaphors for the changes we experience as our lives entangle with others. Unfortunately, divulging the second metaphor would ruin the paralyzing awe of Drawing Restraint 9’s conclusion, so I’ll digress. The story (yes, there is one…sort of) takes place upon the Nisshin Maru, a Japanese whaling vessel. Playing the film’s Occidental Guests, Barney and

Björk board separately and are taken to their respective chambers to be elaborately groomed. He gets his Brawny Man beard shaved (and later loses most of his hair and both eyebrows to a drunk crewmember, in a welcome moment of hilarity), while she gets naked in a bathtub filled with oranges. Both are then outfitted in massive fur kimonos and bizarre headdresses, and brought to a tiny tea room for a Shinto-like marriage ceremony conducted by an elder Japanese man. The process takes about two hours, and the only snippet of dialogue is the ceremony leader’s explanation of the ship’s history. Once the ritual concludes, a vicious storm rocks the Nisshin Maru and the Guests are left alone in the flooding tea room to succumb to their sexual desires, which, among other things, involves cutting away at each other’s limbs. Yes, it’s gratuitous—but the act is also necessary to represent the duo’s animalistic progression.

O v e r all, Barney’s film is as gently meticulous as his union with Björk: attempting to stress both the perfection and frustration in their delicacy. By contrasting the order and obedience of marriage with the forbidden pleasures of sex, he also proves that once the safety of our structures are removed, the unpredictability of emotions will always hold sway. Take that, Brangelina.

by haily gostas By now you’ve probably heard the name; now it’s time to face the music. Only a completely nonsensical moniker like Gnarls Barkley could be responsible for the scatterbrained perfection that is St. Elsewhere (Downtown/Atlantic). Is it hip-hop? Gospel? Funk? Doesn’t matter—classify it simply as your next party record. Gnarls Barkley is the pet project of the oft muumuu-clad, Goodie Mob crooner Cee-Lo Green, and

Sunset Rubdown

Shut Up I Am Dreaming by haily gostas

Drawing Restraint 9 by haily gostas There are a lot of questions and distractions when two lovers star in a movie together. Interest in the actual plot is often discarded, replaced instead by an insatiable curiosity over whether the leads can communicate their private chemistry to public audiences, and whether these tensions will float the ship—or sink it. Matthew Barney, the writer and director of Drawing Restraint 9, probably meant to inspire deeper interpretations amongst his audience than just a display of romance with his longtime off-screen partner Björk. The man responsible for the sprawling, nightmarishly surreal Cremaster Cycle film series never did have a flair for Hollywood frivolity.

“Juxtaposition,” continued from page 12 Garrett of Form Plus Urban Land Acquisition (4RM+ULA) and Ryan Rademacher of the Walsh Bishop design firm to create a visually appealing entrance to West Broadway. The plan—to create a lifesized chessboard, mosaic, and flora—will be completed this August. Juxtaposition also plans to release a documentary film titled Speak Your Mind, featuring interviews with people waiting for the bus along the street. By asking people to describe what they want to see in their community, citizens are receiving a rare chance to participate in civic engagement. Youth that grow up learning about art and the neighborhood from Juxtaposition have a chance to teach their peers as they age. “We don’t just teach kids how to make art, but we also teach them how to make a living making art,” Cummings says. For example, Juxtaposition makes it a point to hire former

students to wield their creative skills on artwork the organization is commissioned to produce. Today, bright banners of kids’ artwork adorn lampposts between Dupont and Freemont Avenues. The broken down buildings in the neighborhood now have colorful pieces of public art. Other spaces, which were once empty shells, begin to fill with nonprofit organizations like The Cookie Cart: Cookies for a Cause. Instead of city planners drawing grand plans to re-develop North Minneapolis through investment in big-box business, Juxtaposition wants the community to express themselves through art and make it a place worth living. “It’s the inside-out approach,” Cummings says. For more information about Juxtaposition Arts, visit juxtaposition.org or call (612) 588-1148.

“Supergroup,” continued from page 13 of is problematic if they are to be called a supergroup. Likewise, if Bach ever had “super” status, it was in 1989. The members of the band are aware of this problem. In the second episode, they wrestle with a name and an identity. One argues that the term “supergroup” is reserved for bands like the Rolling Stones. This is, of course, not the proper use of the term, as it refers typically to architecture and not success of the band, but they quickly scorn this idea and choose to tentatively brand themselves “Supergroup” anyway. Later, they agree upon the name FIST, as they are like five fingers coming together to form a fist, Bach explains.

Nevertheless, VH1 continues to call the show Supergroup, implying that FIST is just that. This serves to discredit actual supergroups in the history of rock and roll, suggesting that washed up B or even C-rate celebrities can be called a supergroup if reality TV chooses to deem them as such. It also serves to change the meaning of the word “super,” as it apparently now means “shit.” As in, FIST is a shit group. But there is some pleasure in watching it, if for no other reason than the bizarre fact that Nugent appears to be the normal one. Just one more sign of the apocalypse.

Bastard

www.wakemag.org

Arbitrary Awards NATIONAL BEST CAMPUS PUBLICATION

Us, apparently. Seriously. Suck it, Brown.

NATIONAL WORST CAMPUS PUBLICATION

The Librarney

BEST WAY TO DISCOVER LAST SEMESTER’S GRADES

In a congratulatory letter from the Honors college.

WORST WAY TO DISCOVER LAST SEMESTER’S GRADES

An expulsion letter from General College. DAVE HAGEN

This Summer in UofM History • Summer, 1901 • As temperatures remained arctic in the summer of 1901, UofM students and faculty were forced to cut down and burn the trees on Northrop Mall. The president himself, who had already lost two toes to frostbite during an illadvised Board of Regents meeting, was seen chopping down a particularly large oak in desperation. Likewise, across campus, students participated in toboggan races instead of attending summer classes. The freakish weather also resulted in increased vodka sales and a disproportionate number of orgies as students and faculty tried to stay warm that frigid, terrible, wonderful Minnesota summer.

ALEX JUDKINS

Want ads Wanted: To stop sweating. Wanted: More rivals—The Dink just isn’t cutting it anymore. Hey, Pulse! Fuck you! Wanted: This “W97M.Thus.A” virus to die a slow, painful, AIDS-like death. So much for Macs being immune.

Wanted: Furthermore, this virus protection shit is just getting ridiculous. Do I want to “repair the virus”? Of course! Why do you even have to ask? Are you just bragging about detecting it, or what? Jesus. Wanted: Lane Trisko.

See you in the fall.