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Archive for March, 2010
This week's Weekender. Check it out here
After work tonight, get yourself over to the Constitution Center, where Philly Mag will be hosting its annual Martini Madness par-tay. There will be lots of drinks, food, mingling, and associated activities, so wear your party dress. It's $50 to get in, though if you buy in advance using the handy-dandy promotional code WEEKENDER (which, coincidentally, is the name of my weekly arts/events/drinking/mindless-fun newsletter), you'll get $10 off.Elsewhere, bi-polar Canadian and 'XPN fave Matthew Good is at World Cafe Live; the Academy of Vocal Arts celebrates 75 years of arias at the Kimmel (though tickets are looking pretty scarce); and
Inquirer Lenders Ask Court: Overturn That Goofy Ruling. You know, the one that undid several decades of bankruptcy law, basically screwed them out of hundreds of millions of dollars, and got Brian Tierney exactly what he wanted. Not that the Scoop has a point of view on this. [nytimes.com]The Trash Fee Might Be Dead. But not Michael Nutter's soda tax. Heard in the Hall has the latest. [philly.com]And They're Off. Prepare to be pummeled by ads for the governor's race. Dan Onorato started things off yesterday with his first state-wide commercials. [PoliticsPA]Hey, Tom Corbett: Drop the Obamacare Lawsuit. So say
My NCAA tournament bracket was distinguished from many others this season when I wrote in Baylor as my upset pick to make the Final Four. But in the waning moments of Sunday’s Southeast Regional Final, strangely, I found myself rooting for Duke. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that no matter what the circumstance, love them or hate them, the Final Four is better with Duke in it. And I make no bones about this: I hate them.Unless you have attended Duke, or are one of those front-running geeks who have glommed on to the school because of their resume of overwhelming college basketball success, you can’t possibly like the Blue Devils. They are the ultimate antagonists, a bunch of annoying, pedigreed elitists who do things like contrive a collective floor slap intended to spur on their defense as they look wayward to their equally annoying coach, Mike Krzyzewski, with his ugly jet-black hair dye job and his perpetual sneer, complete with flaring nostrils, all of which make him resemble an alley rat.
Cowboy boots, tight jeans, a plaid shirt hanging out. I am not describing the rodeo I attended. Regrettably, no. I went to brunch last Sunday at one of the nicest restaurants in the city, XIX at the Bellevue. This is an upscale affair, we’re talking about here. Gourmet Bloodies, a raw bar, the works in a glittering room. Which is why I was astonished to see what people consider proper brunch attire.Certain dignified traditions have gone by the wayside in my lifetime. No longer do people dress up to travel. In fact, they seem to consider wearing the least attractive clothes they own suitable for travel these days. (I secretly wonder if bad customer service by airlines is a chicken or egg thing. Maybe they started treating customers badly when they began looking homeless.)
A few weeks ago, my college students and I discussed the Lower Merion webcam spying debacle in class. They were almost unanimously horrified that a school administrator might observe a student in the privacy of the student’s home. There was much discussion of invasion of privacy by hidden technology.Then, last week I discovered that the students had bugged my classroom.
Last year I was assigned the dreaded duty of Best of Philly fried-chicken scouting. While NYC chefs hopped on the fried-chicken bandwagon a couple of years back, Philly’s been a little slow to pick up the trend. After eating a lot of lackluster, soggy-skinned birds, we eventually decided to nix the category altogether. But now (finally!) more and more restaurants are getting into the fried-chicken game. Read more at the Restaurant Club blog
OK, I've gotta motor, so let's make this quick and dirty: fans of funk should not miss Ivan Neville's Dumpstaphunk with the Rebirth Brass Band at World Cafe Live ($20-$32). A solid more-indie option is The Soft Pack at Johnny Brenda's ($10). They've got some real heat behind them right now on the heels of their eponymous garage-rocking debut. Devil's Den gives you the first taste of a brand new beer from way down yonder in Baltimore. And, as noted in the brand-spanking-new issue of the magazine, the crayfish/crawfish/crawdads/whatever-you-want-to-call-them have arrived on Sansom, so dig in!