THE WYMAN WEEKLY

Underemployed. Unattached. Unimpressed.

Issue 14 May 9,1996

 

 

 

No time for love, Doctor Jones.

 

BEER/BARS

 

So I’m once again buying more Grain Belt at the Liquor Depot (I’ll be the Mayor’s golden - pun intended - boy come Memorial Day weekend as every time I’ve bought beer for home since last summer it’s been the Belt) and turn the corner into another aisle and some dolled-up redhead beauty in black pumps, black stretch pants, and snazzy blazer is in front of me. “Would you like to try some Corona?” she says. She’s offering samples. Suddenly I’m in Whitey’s during the mideighties. Me and various members of the Palace/Club Coalition are gathered in a corner drinking Schmidt or Stroh’s Dark. We’re vastly outnumbered by Frat Fucks and Sorority Susies. We feel like George Washington at Valley Forge. Like Davy Crockett at the Alamo. Like Doug Woog at Englestad Arena. The Greeks are all drinking Corona with the obligatory lime in it. They think the lime is cool, not realizing it’s there to give their piss beer some semblance of flavor. Back in real time, I look at the Corona Gal and notice she’s aging quickly and is wearing too much makeup. “Uhhh, no thanks.” I say politely. She looks at me puzzled. I realize she is probably one of those sorority girls all grown up now.

 

I went to Lee’s this week to check out Trailer Trash. Normally at Lee’s I order up some Schimdt longnecks as it’s the only bar in the Cities I know of that still serves Schmidt in a longneck. Unfortunately, on this night they were out of Schmidt so I went with an order of a Grain Belt Premium longneck. This is a difficult thing to come out and say - but here it goes: I have become convinced that Grain Belt Premium in a bottle doesn’t taste the same as it used to. Ever since the Minnesota Brewing Company took over the brewing of Premium a few years back, I noticed that the brew has become a lot sweeter than it used to be. Premium used to be a slightly smoother version of regular Grain Belt. But as I remember, Premium was never very sweet, just smooth. And these days, I drink a Premium bottle and it feel that it is weakened by being a little too sweet.

 

As I drank my first Premium in Lee’s, I debated switching to the always-reliable Pabst longnecks. A solid taste, not sweet, just the real taste of a good beer. I opted against this choice as I had the feeling I would go home and want to dive into a couple of regular brown bottle Grain Belts. And as we all know, PBR is a difficult beer to adjust from. So I stuck with the Premiums. Then again, things could have been worse: I could have been stuck in one of those scary suburban bars whose only choices are between the Anheuser-Busch and Miller families.

 

It’s amazing that I had enough time to think about beer choices in Lee’s. This place was filled with righteous babes of all shapes and sizes. In fact, I think they easily outnumbered the guys. Then again, maybe not, but you gotta realize I wasn’t paying attention to the guys. (And paid the price, too. I was bounced around like Wayne Gretzsky.) The girls here were all real spunky - blue jeans, casual clothes, etc. A lot of ‘em looked like they wanted to dance, too. I, of course, didn’t dance. Why? 1) It would involve me making some sort of an effort 2) I wasn’t fucked up and 3) The folks on the dance floor were doing REAL couples dancing, the kind you might see at a VFW or a wedding dance (and I might see too if I wasn’t skipping the dance to be out in the parking lot smoking cigars or at the free bar trying to outdrink my cousins.)

 

The band? Just like American heroes such as Creedence, Springsteen, The Blasters, Social Distortion (and not to mention great country artists of the past thirty years like Merle Haggard, Waylon Jennings and Dwight Yoakam), Trailer Trash goes on like the British Invasion never happened. They do covers of mostly rockabilly and honky tonk tunes and are the definition of “bar band.” Which means they’re a hell of a lot of fun and their sound just encourages you to have another drink to wash the whole experience down with.

 

MUSIC

 

The latest Cities 97 television commercial asks the question: Who doesn’t know a Rolling Stones song? My dad for one. But besides him? Well, way back in 1987 I went down to Odegard Books at Calhoun Square to get Ron Wood’s autograph. There was a lengthy line and I stood in line for an hour and a half. During this time, a fortyish nerdy-looking man approached the dude behind me. “What’s the line for?” he asked. “We’re getting Ron Wood’s autograph.” replied the dude. “Who’s Ron Wood?” asked the man. (A reasonable question if you’re a nonrocker.) “He’s in the Rolling Stones.” said the dude. “Who are the Rolling Stones?” asked the man, and he seriously did not know. The dude paused in disbelief, then stated “They’re a rock ‘n’ roll band.” The man mumbled something incoherent and walked away. So I bet he does not know a Rolling Stones song. (Brief footnote: When it was my turn for Ronnie to sign, I asked him to sign his autograph to “Wyman.” He looked up at me smiling. I said “That’s my nickname.” Ronnie said “Then I’ll sign my nickname.” His autograph says To Wyman. Cheers. Woodman. He also drew a little Woody cartoon.)

 

COFFEE

 

I’ve used these pages (issue #5 to be specific) to rail against coffee shops in general. But after spending some time in Ole & Lena’s - named best new coffee shop by City Pages - I just want to say that this place does not meet the stereotypes of what I was pissing and moaning about in issue #5 which was based mostly upon my experiences in places like Dunn Brothers. Ole & Lena’s has only classy women working behind the counter. Which means they considerately listen to your order and serve you cheerfully. You don’t get some ponytailed, bespectacled, angry young non-dude scowling at you because your mere presence is interfering with his copped attitude of being so superior to everyone else. The music at O&L’s is usually some mellow female bluesy-type singer, which would probably sound crappy to me at home (and would send me scrambling for my guitar-rave-up thrash in like two seconds) but is perfect background music for staring out the huge windows onto the Bryant-33rd Street intersection. O&L’s is not The Place To Be, so you don’t get huge crowds of yuppies sitting around with their laptops chatting amongst themselves about how great things were back in the sixties, man, when they were working on stopping a war, man, and the country knew their power, man. You also get your coffee quickly, as you don’t have to wait in line behind said yuppies, who almost always order some fancy la-de-dah coffee drink that takes too many minutes to prepare. The yuppies then walk sooo slow because they don’t want to spill their foo-foo drink all over their brand new station wagons. (Oops, I mean sports utility vehicles.) So my rip on coffee shops wasn’t meant for places like O&L’s (and Mojo’s on 36th and Grand, which sometimes plays Uncle Tupelo and is a hangout for new age types - which is a plus for the people watching / entertainment factor but a minus if you actually pay attention to their rhetoric.) One more thing: O&L’s is the only coffee shop where I’ve done work on this rag, so you know it’s an okay joint.

 

SPORTS

 

As of this writing and with almost twenty percent of the season completed, the Twins have a .500 record. This without Kirby Puckett. I think it calls for (as my dad would say) “a cold beer here.”