Knitting an Olympic-sized controversy, not everything of value has a price tag, Kenny Markiewicz' wild ride, the dark side of the bus monitor story, and the faces behind the flag.
Rather quietly overnight, a piece of Twin Cities media died.
The local entertainment website A.V. Club, along with the print version of The Onion in the Twin Cities, have gone belly up. Jason Zabel made the announcement on the site late last night...
The loss of local coverage is an unfortunate but common occurrence these days. But the loss of The A.V. Club here in the Twin Cities makes me especially sad, and not just because I'm out of a job, but because I think this publication has a unique voice. In our time publishing in the Twin Cities, we have tried our best to develop a publication that we feel reflects the Twin Cities: smart, fun, and a little bit different.
The best part of writing for The A.V. Club is the freedom. During my time alone, we've wondered why there are so few openly gay athletes, written about a man who turned his house into a town, interviewed an all-male Britney Spears cover band, and run-through all of the crazy shit Bob Dylan has done, all while using as many curse words as we pleased.
Sarah Harper at the U of M Daily's A&E blog sums it up...
Both The Onion and The A.V. Club will continue to exist online on a national-level but they won't join City Pages and Vita.mn as part of your coffee shop holy trinity ever again.
I can't be the only shmoe around here who uses The A.V. Club, Twin Cities for a home page - between whistle-blowing sessions with local back-patters and diligent coverage of hack research, there's always a juicy read.
Which, of course, leads to the obvious question: Is there any sort of market in the Twin Cities for an independent source that's always a juicy read?
It's entirely appropriate for any Minnesota Twins fan to pause for a moment to honor composer and lyricist Richard Adler, who died yesterday.
Adler wrote a ton of Broadway tunes and musicals, including most of the ones in "Damn Yankees," in which a rabid baseball fan sells his soul to the devil in exchange for a chance to lead his favorite team to American League pennant glory. It won the best musical Tony award.
It's almost as if it was written for you, Twins fans.(2 Comments)
Some video just posted on YouTube presents a reality many of us hadn't considered before about the flooding in the Northland. It's likely some things are never going to be the way they were before. Portions of some rivers and canals, in fact, are going to be in entirely different places than they were just a few days ago.
This video from Thompson, in the Jay Cooke State Park, is a perfect example. How do you fix this?
Also posted today is this video of the famous swinging bridge in the state park. Whatever is left of it can't last much longer.
In happier times:
Photo: Swinging Bridge over the St. Louis River by stpaulgirl, on Flickr(5 Comments)
A favorite subject on NewsCut, as you may know, are the people who make a difference, mostly because they're undaunted by the perceived reality that they can't.
Reader Kate Agnew has passed along a Huffington Post story from a few days ago, that might've slipped under your radar (it did mine) that fully qualifies in the category.
It's the story of a group of women in Tennessee, who secretly diverted money from their family budgets for more than 30 years to bake cakes, send gifts, or provide goods to people they'd heard could use a little help. They ran their secret society without telling their spouses, the story says:
"We gave new meaning to the term drive-by," Mary Ellen said with delight. "We'd drive through low-income neighborhoods and look for homes that had fans in the window. That told us that the people who lived there didn't have air-conditioning. Or we'd see that there were no lights on at night, which meant there was a good chance their utilities had been turned off. Then we'd return before the sun came up, like cat burglars, and drop off a little care package."
For three decades, the ladies' good deeds went undetected -- that is, until five years ago, when Mary Ellen's husband, whom she lovingly calls "Southern Charmer," started noticing extra mileage on the car and large amounts of cash being withdrawn from their savings account.
"He brought out bank statements and they were highlighted!" Mary Ellen said, recalling the horror she felt. "I tried to explain that I had bought some things, but he had this look on his face that I'd never seen before -- and I realized what he must have been thinking. I called the sisters and said, 'You all need to get over here right away.'"
So 30 years into their secret mission, the 9 Nanas and their husbands gathered in Mary Ellen's living room and the sisters came clean. They told the husbands about the laundry and the eavesdropping -- even the drive-bys. And that's where their story gets even better -- because the husbands offered to help.2 Comments)