A place called B.L.O.G.

Minnesota House Minority Leader Matt Entenza is going to run for attorney general, the Strib tells us.

WORTHINGTON — Promising to go after oil companies and telemarketers, House Minority Leader Matt Entenza on Wednesday launched his bid to become state attorney general.

Oil companies and telemarketers? Are there two easier targets out there? This guy is going for votes right away. I can just picture his campaign people in a room somewhere trying to come up with a list of the things people hate most, searching for planks in the platform. "People hate lint," one would say. "Is there some way we can go after lint?" "No," another would say. "But I think people really hate getting punched in the face. Can we pledge to put a stop to that?" "That’s already illegal," another would say. "Well, how about oil companies? Gas is really expensive right now," another would say. "Genius!" they’d all say in unison.

Go, Matt Entenza! As a Minnesotan who hates paying for gas and getting annoying phone calls, I pledge my support to you! If you could find a way to make it illegal for my landlord to charge me rent, I’d even go out knocking on doors and handing out pamphlets for you!

I saw this just now on the Internet.

PALM SPRINGS, Calif. - Elmer "Len" Dresslar Jr., who extolled vegetables to generations of TV watchers as the booming voice of the Jolly Green Giant, has died. He was 80.

Dresslar died Oct. 16 of cancer, according to daughter Teri Bennett.

Dresslar was an entertainer and singer for nearly six decades. But his voice rang through millions of households when he sang the simple refrain, "Ho, Ho, Ho," in an ad jingle for Green Giant foods.

The article continues:

Dresslar, a Kansas native, moved to Chicago with his wife in the early 1950s to study voice after touring with a production of "South Pacific." By the 1960s, the Navy veteran had carved out a career singing in clubs, on television and in advertising jingles.

He recorded 15 albums with The Singers Unlimited jazz group and appeared on the CBS television show "In Town Tonight" from 1955 to 1960.

This poor guy did a ton of stuff in his career, recorded a bunch of albums, dedicated his life to his art. And he’s remembered for singing "ho ho ho" in a deep voice. Even his obit had a picture of the Jolly Green Giant with it, not a picture of him. Wow. I guess he must have been one of those guys who paid the bills with the ad jingles so he could keep doing the stuff that was actually satisfying, and I suppose he was lucky to get something as good as the Green Giant thing. Maybe it’s nice that he’s at least remembered for something, but it seems kind of sad that an entire life can be boiled down to "ho ho ho."

The mission has been a success so far. Baskets were gotten, Betty Crocker mix was mixed, and light, fluffy muffins were born in the hot hot heat of my oven. They were allowed to cool, removed from their pan, placed in the baskets, and given to people. Then it was all written about in the passive voice on this blog.

It’s exhilariting, really, giving baskets of muffins to people. I quite enjoy it. In fact, even as I type this, the smell of cooling muffins is wafting in from the kitchen — that’s right, I’m so pleased with the muffin project that I’m continuing it indefinitely. I bought 10 baskets and I’ve only used three, which means more muffins will be baked and distributed before this is all over, and now that I have a basket source (Michael’s), I can always go back for more if the world’s hunger for muffin baskets remains unquenched.

Thanks to everyone who has supported me in this muffin endeavor of mine. And keep your eyes open, for you may be the next to receive a muffin basket, if you haven’t already.

And now, a challenge to you. Come up with your own idea for handing out baked goods in some kind of vessel. Perhaps you could prepare bowls of biscuits, boxes of gingerbread, trays of breadsticks, sacks of dinner rolls, or Tupperware containers of blintzes. Then give them out to people who might like them. Together, we will change the world into a place where the exchange of baked goods among friends and acquaintances is commonplace. But don’t do the muffin baskets. That one is mine and I will come and steal your baskets if I find out you’re using my idea.

Good day to you!

What is the point of broadcasting musical recommendations into space? There is no point. One could argue that there is no point in blogging at all, especially when you aren’t really reaching much of an audience. But I like to think that writing is its own reward. And anybody who’s been following the progress of this “Place Called B.L.O.G.” knows that I love to pretend to be a critic. So, I shall write about musical recommendations, because I feel like it. I don’t need to justify it to myself, or you, whoever you are. And if you do happen to be reading this, perhaps you will take something useful away from it, whether it’s “Gee, Dylan sure does like to pretend anybody cares about his musical recommendations. What a dork. I think I’m going to throw a brick at his house” (Joke’s on you. I won’t have to pay for the repairs! I rent! Ha!) or “Wow, Dylan and I have really (similar/dissimilar) tastes in music, so I’m sure I’ll (love/hate) the stuff he has recommended, and in fact, I’m going to go out right now and (buy/not buy) all the things on this list” or “Gosh, shouldn’t Dylan be working?”

Here are some newer things that I’ve been listening to that I like a lot:

Wolf Parade, “Apologies to the Queen Mary.” Yelpy-sounding, fuzzy, synthy rock and/or roll that is really starting to kick my butt after about five listens. (Musically, I consider “kick my butt” to be a good thing.)

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. Aside from having a really great name (and isn’t that half the battle?), they play good music, too. Has anybody noticed that I like peppy and slightly goofy stuff? This fits right in.

Andrew Bird, “Andrew Bird and the Mysterious Production of Eggs.” Usually it takes a few spins for me to really click with something, but this one had me from the first time through. I don’t even really know how to describe it. I don’t know if it’s rock or jazz or easy listening or what it is, but I know it is captivating and it has violins and lots of really cool whistling.

Franz Ferdinand, “You Could Have It So Much Better.” There’s nothing too complex about this. It’s like a bunch of stuff that wouldn’t fit on their first record, so they released it as a separate record. And it’s good.

British Sea Power, “The Decline of British Sea Power.” Some of it is pretty rock-tastic (they get compared to the Pixies a little) but a lot of it is more smooth and mellow than that.

Caribou, “The Milk of Human Kindness.” I haven’t listened to a ton of what you’d call “electronic” stuff, but I can definitely get into this. It’s got enough texture and variety to keep me interested.

Art Brut, “Bang Bang Rock N Roll.” Good gosh. I haven’t had an album blow me away and make me want to “rock out” this much since The Futureheads. (OK, that wasn’t that long ago, but still). These guys would make the Ramones proud.

Architecture in Helsinki, “In Case We Die.” Hello. I don’t really know what to call this music, either, but I likes it. I was going to describe what it sounds like, but the fact is that it doesn’t sound like anything for more than a minute at a time, and then it sounds like something else. There’s chanting and tubas and keyboards and pianos and a sitar and other instruments I don’t even know and like six different vocalists and a bunch of other stuff. That might sound scary, but it’s really fun and easy to listen to.

OK, and because I’m catching up for 20 years of totally missing out on good stuff, I’m just discovering things other people knew about a long time ago. Here are some things from the past that I’m liking:

Pavement, “Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain.” I’ve heard that “Cut Your Hair” song on the radio a ton but I never really liked it that much. Well, they should have been playing the rest of this record on the radio. Boy, the radio is stupid.

Built to Spill, “Keep it Like A Secret.” I have no idea why stuff like Smashing Pumpkins was getting all the love when this group was putting out much better music. I guess it’s because that’s how it goes.

Wilco, “Hotel Yankee Foxtrot.” OK, this is only like 3 or 4 years old, but I missed out on it until now. This is a good CD. I don’t know what else to say about it. I just like it.

Today I was thinking to myself. I was thinking about what kind of world I want to live in: The kind of world where people give baskets of muffins to neighbors, friends and acquaintances, or the kind of world where they don’t. I decided that I would vastly prefer the muffin-basket world. Who wouldn’t? Think about it: People exhanging baskets of muffins left and right. It’d be paradise. But what to do about it? Well, I’ve always believed that to change the world, you have to start by changing yourself. So I decided that I would bake muffins and give them to people in baskets.

My plan hit a snag, however, when I arrived at Super Target. I quickly found some muffin mix (no, I’m not quite ready to do muffins from scratch yet — I’m starting small), but the baskets were a problem. Where could I find baskets that were A) affordable, B) attractive, C) available in mass quantities, and D) suitable for muffin distribution? Well, it turns out, not at Super Target. The best I could find were just the right size and shape, but they were $7.99 apiece. That will not do. I don’t have that kind of budget for my muffin project. And since I don’t know of any places to buy things other than Super Target, I’m in a tight spot.

So, my plan is now stalled. I must find a source of suitable baskets. I considered shifting my focus and going with plates of muffins, but I don’t think "plate of muffins" sounds as good as "basket of muffins." The basket really seals the deal.

I will be looking around some more to see if I can find the baskets needed to get my plan in motion. I’ll keep you all updated as the project progresses. Or perhaps you’ll just receive a basket of muffins and then you’ll know that I was successful.

I saw this news article today. It was interesting.

SYDNEY, Australia - The last Australian veteran to see active service in World War I has died at age 106, government officials said Tuesday.

William Evan Allan enlisted in the Royal Australian Navy at the outbreak of the war when he was just 14. He served as a seaman on the HMAS Encounter from 1915 to 1918.

…

Allan, born in the southeastern town of Bega in July 1899 and a resident of Melbourne, also was Australia’s sole surviving veteran of both world wars. In World War II, Allan served on an armed merchant cruiser and as pier master of a naval base.

This was my favorite part of the article:

He died Monday night, Kelly said. The cause of death was not disclosed.

The cause of death was not disclosed? Wow, the mystery of it all! I wonder what it could have been. Drowning? Homicide? Electrocution? Avian flu? Or maybe THE FACT THAT HE WAS 106 YEARS OLD?

When I park at work during the week, there is a lot where I have a space that is my space. It’s space number 100. I park in it. But on weekends, they often sell the spots in that lot for people who are going to sporting events at the Metrodome, which is like a block from my parking spot. So, on those days, I park in a different lot where they have these all-purpose spaces that anybody with a sticker can use.

Today, I came in to work knowing there was a Gophers football game, but I was daydreaming or something, so I turned into the lot where I usually park, only to find that it was full. I went down the aisle and turned around to leave and go to the other lot when I noticed something.

Every freaking spot was filled by big hulking SUVs and pickup trucks, with a few minivans sprinkled in for good measure. It was jarring, because when the lot is full of Strib employees, it’s chock full of sensible little cars, or at least more sensible than the big hunks of metal that are filling it today. I am used to being able to see over the tops of some of the cars when I drive down the aisle, but today these huge machines were towering over me on all sides. It was like I had accidentally wandered into Anoka County or something.

OK, so maybe it shouldn’t be that surprising that football fans like to drive big trucks. But it was one of those moments when I felt like there is a huge portion of the population — including the suburbanites in their little monster trucks who wouldn’t be caught dead in the city unless there was a football game going on — with whom I have absolutely nothing in common. I want them to go away and never talk to me. And they can get the hell out of my parking spot, too.

People magazine announced today that it has concluded its exhaustive search of every city, town, village, farmhouse and shantytown in the world and is finally ready to release its annual “50 Most Beautiful People in the World” issue.

Readers accustomed to seeing rising Hollywood stars such as Orlando Bloom and Kirsten Dunst will be in for a surprise as such big names are replaced by the likes of Bogdan Ivankiv, a Ukrainian office manager, and Priya Ganarajya, a student from India.

The magazine dispatched 120,000 certified “beauty judges” equipped with sophisticated “attractiveness detectors” to every corner of the world looking for winners, not resting until all of the approximately 6 billion people on Earth were stripped naked and checked for sexiness. It’s a departure from the magazine’s past methodology, wherein editors would simply sit at a table and choose 50 people from a list of a few hundred American celebrities who had broken out or made the news in the previous year.

“We wanted this year’s issue to truly live up to the name ‘World’s Most Beautiful People,’ ” said Dorothy J. Lamentable, editor in chief of People. “We probably could have sold a few million of these things by focusing on the household names and the hot new stars, but we think people are tired of that shallow celebrity stuff.”

The search was extensive, but Lamentable admitted that it might not have been perfect. “We may have missed a few people in Canada, but let’s face it, that place is just one big ugly anyway, so no big loss.”

Nevertheless, Michigan T. Spooneybarger, president of the Anti-Hyperbole League, applauded the magazine’s broadened effort.

“We at the AHL are sick and tired of magazines claiming to tell us who the ‘Sexiest Man Alive’ or the ‘Hottest Eligible Bachelorette’ or the ‘Most Bootyriffic Co-Ed’ is when they haven’t even considered 99.9 percent of the planet’s population,” Spooneybarger said. “It’s about time these rags started being responsible.”

Lamentable said she has high hopes that the magazine will sell the necessary 633 million copies to cover the cost of the $2.5 billion world search.