More Ideas for Art Shantys that Rhyme

[The Medicine Lake Art Shantys, an almost annual celebration of shantily-clad creation.]

Dart Shanty – A shanty where people enter and can play darts. Alternatively, a shanty shaped like a dartboard, with another mobile sort of dart-type art object on ice runners which guests can project toward the shanty’s bullseye.

Start Shanty – A space where guests can attempt to build their own shanty out of anything they happen to have on their person. Nobody finishes.

Smart Shanty – A shanty that capitalizes on mobile communications technology to create an emergent adaptive shanty network, uses self-organization and crowd sourcing to create its own art, achieves sentience, and takes over the world (lake) a la Wintermute.

Pull-Apart Shanty – A shanty made from many, many small parts. Each guest takes part of the shanty home with them until the shanty disappears.

Blart Shanty – This makes no sense. “Blart” is not a word.

Quisinart Shanty – A shanty that chops raw food materials into tiny bits when inserted into the doorway. Made from shiny chrome.

K-Mart Shanty – A shanty that somehow demolishes the Lake Street K-Mart.

Fart Shanty – Self explanatory.

[Fart Shanty prototype, on right.]

Ideas for Art Shantys that Rhyme

[The Medicine Lake Art Shanties, an almost annual ritual of creative shanty construction.]

Scanty Shanty – The least possible shanty, made from the least possible material. This shanty barely even exists.

Aunty Shanty – All five of my aunts take turns sitting in a shanty.

Panty Shanty – Girls-only shanty. They trade panties with each other or something.

Decanty Shanty – Shanty with fine spirits in crystal containers. Guests drink booze.

Jimmy Durante Shanty – Shanty containing the personal effects of the late Jimmy Durante. Could be shaped like a giant schnozz.

Shanty Shanty – Sing sea shanties in a shanty. This has obviously already been considered and/or done.

[Then, it hit me. An actual good idea…] 

Ranty Shanty – A shanty shaped like a soap box, only with some sort of ladder on the outside (or inside, if preferable). 

Entering the shanty, you find a little display about the great ‘speakers corners’ of history (e.g. Hyde Park, Union Square), and some information about famous public / grassroots orators.

Then, the best part: there is a box of some kind, and a paper you can fill out that says, “Suggest a rant. (Be specific.) What irritates you the most?” Then there is a spot for more details, questions like “What is it about your rant suggestion that is the single worst thing? What else is really horrid? (Please be specific.) How does your rant suggestion lead to the downfall of civilization? (Be specific.)” Etc. etc.

Then, the shanty is staffed with the trained volunteer ranters, and every 15 minutes or so one of the volunteer ranters chooses one of the better suggestions, climbs to the top of the shanty, and delivers a tip-top rant on that topic, with lots of fire and brimstone and gesticulation and oratory. Hamming it up is encouraged. Theatrical individuals are involved. Improvisation occurs. Details are fudged or fabricated. The ranter stands atop the Ranty Shanty and yells like Ahab into the cold winter wind, addressing his or her grievances to the horizon. Onlookers look on. This proves to be immensely popular.

As an added bonus, interested participants can attempt to deliver their own rants, addressing a boisterous crowd as if on the Apollo Theater mainstage. Democracy in action, on a giant soapbox on a lake.

It all proves to be immensely therapeutic.

And cold. Also cold.

[Rough schematic of Ranty Shanty. Note: Not to Scale.]

A Modest Proposal to Save the Vikings

It goes without saying that the Minnesota Vikings are a local treasure. No Minnesota sports team has done more to dramatically lose. In fact, the Vikings are the only team this side of Buffalo that has found so many innovative losing ways, pioneering a uniquely depressing balance of inspiring talent and constant ineptitude rarely found anywhere in the world of overpaid grunting men.

[Artists' rendering of the proposed stadium complex.]

As you may know, the owners of the Vikings are currently spending millions of dollars lobbying local politicians to levy a sales tax on some of the poorest residents of the state in order to generate millions of dollars in new revenue for a real estate developer in New Jersey. All that is well and good, but how exactly will the stadium be built? There’s some debate over where the new billion-dollar luxury spectacle will be, how it will be paid for, how people will get there, and what sort of local economic impact it will have…

So, I wanted to throw my two cents into the conversation while there’s still time to affect the minds of the local politicians, including Governor Dayton, who are meeting right now in back rooms at the capitol working out the deal with Wilf’s lobbyists without any public scrutiny.

Here is a modest proposal that I believe will solve many of the so-called “problems” with the current stadium plan:


#1 The Walter H. Bachlenty (Target) Arena luxury stadium and hotel

Obviously, any football team that wants to lose in spectacular fashion will require a large, expensive, semi-outdoor stadium. There will have to be plenty of luxury boxes for local CEOs and medical device executives. The stadium will have to be large enough to give the Vikings inevitable dramatic overtime losses a feeling of pathos worthy of the fall of the Roman Empire. So, we spend a lot of money here.

[The new VIP-ZIP pilot program.]

(Interesting thought: a personal Segway sharing system modeled after the popular NiceRide program that would use dedicated “seg-sky-ways” so that employees of Medtronic and Boston Scientific can travel from their nearby corporate campuses right to the luxury boxes, bypassing all the messy parking lots and freeway onramps. You could call it “ZIP-VIP.”)

Here’s the brilliant part. In keeping with Vikings tradition of high-profile failure, and to honor all the hard-earned unpayable state government debt invested in the project, we would name the stadium after Minnesota’s strong tradition of losing presidential candidates. We will call it Water H. Bachlenty (Target) Arena. We could even erect memorial statues of each politician giving their concession speeches around the outside of the building!

 
#2 An Aquari-Sino at Block E

But, you might say, “How will we pay for this huge stadium? The state is broke, and has been for years!”

No problem. We’ll build a lucrative downtown casino at Block E, a building right in the heart of downtown Minneapolis that has sadly lay empty ever since Hooters and Applebee’s went out of business during the recent economic downturn.

(Whichever developer built that thing really messed up, boy howdy!)

What’s that you say? “Downtown casinos never work out, and become soul-sucking dingy blights where ever they’re built?”

Well, sure. That’s why we’re going to add a large publically financed aquarium component to the casino. My studies have shown that one of the primary reasons downtown casinos fail is because they don’t have enough architecturally embedded fish tanks. This casino will be different. It will be full of backlit sea creatures.

Close your eyes and imagine the “carps and craps” table. Block E will surely be one of the Top Three Aquarium Casinos in the World.

[The problem with the failed Duluth downtown casino and the failed Duluth aquarium is that they're too far away from each other.]

#3 “Sinking ship” themed Waterpark Convention Center

One of the other problems with the current proposal is that Arden Hills site is in the middle of nowhere, at a vacant bullet factory.

That’s why I am proposing a new Minneapolis Convention Center complex to add synergy to the Vikings stadium hotel development plans, which unfortunately will only be used eight times each year.

As you may of heard, the current Minneapolis Convention Center is struggling, and recently had to lay off half their staff. We need a new attraction to draw in lucrative tourism and convention business, and so I’m proposing a new “waterpark” convention hotel.

Special Bonus: In keeping with Vikings’ tradition and Minnesota state government trajectory, the waterpark could be called “The Sinking Ship.” Conventioneers could ride a special Vikings longboat that would sink into the water during each Vikings 4th quarter loss, projected onto the Jumbotron for vicarious televisual depression. The image of a sinking ship could be emblazoned on the stadium itself!


#4 MinneMonoRail

At this point you’re surely thinking, “Well, those are all good ideas. But Arden Hills is in the middle of nowhere! How will people get from the Block E Aquarium Casino to the new Walter H. Bachlenty Luxury Stadium and “Sinking Ship” Waterpark Convention Center?”

[The MinneMonoRail would be modeled on the successful Detroit people mover.]

That’s why I’m proposing a new modern “transit feature” that will connect our new tourist and entertainment amenities into a seamlessly integrated modern transportation network that rivals anything found in China or Belgium. We will construct a new “people mover” transportation line using an automatic train that runs from downtown to the luxury stadium without interfering with automobiles.

The magic of it all is this: there will only be ONE track, high up in the air. I call it a “MinneMonoRail.” Soon Minneapolis will be breathlessly mentioned alongside destinations like Las Vegas, Nevada and Detroit, Michigan. The future is now!



#5 Artistic Lutefisk Hall of Fame Museum & Cabbage Preservation Library

All this sounds expensive, to the untrained ear, I’m sure.

But luckily, the state of Minnesota recently passed a sales tax dedicated to environmental protection, arts, and culture called “The Legacy Fund.” And all that money is going to waste! What are all these “artists and “deer” doing with this valuable tax income? Not tackling each other, that’s for sure.

So, in order to use this underutilized revenue stream for productive economic development purposes, I propose that the new Vikings Mega-Convention-Aquarium-Casino-Monorail complex include an artistic Lutefisk Hall of Fame Museum and Preservation Library.

You might not know this, but Minnesota has a rich Scandinavian heritage! A lutefisk Hall of Fame would, at long last, pay some much-deserved tribute to some of the all-time great Lutefisk chefs, such eminent “fiskers” as Uwe Thorbløatt, Nancy Johnson, Soren Sorenson, and Inga Aårvindsonindöttir.

Never heard of those people?

That’s exactly why we need a Lutefisk Hall of Fame!

Plus, there are two added benefits: Lutefisk is already preserved, so we won’t need to do very much to preserve it. And secondly, the museum’s palpable stink will make the Vikings smell better by comparison. (Look what the garbage burner has done for the 2011 Twins!)





 
#6 The 2013 Arden Hills World Exposition of America Field

“You’re dreaming, Bill”, you’re probably thinking. “All this wonderful stuff will never happen here in little Minnesota. Nobody’s even heard of our state. How can we bring in so many tourists?”

They said the same thing about the Mall of America, and look at it now!

That’s why we’ll host a spectacular international festival. To kick off our new mega-project with a bang, we will host the 2013 Arden Hills World Exposition of America.

Think of it. Millions of people flocking to our little corner of the upper Midwest to marvel at the wonders of the future, at the latest cutting edge science and technology of our modern age. They will ride Segways onto the monorail and into the waterpark and up to the aquarium casino and up into a giant cheese curd themed roller rink / Large Hadron Collider, where they will be quickly accelerated PAST the speed of light and out into Ray Kurzweil’s singularity, just like what happened at the end of 2001: A Space Odyssey, only it would be Brett Farve sitting in the room at the end of the universe wearing a smoking jacket, waiting patiently to hug us and give us “massages.”

If we act now, we can make our dreams come true. Let’s a leave a real legacy and make our grandchildren proud.

[Artist's rendering of the proposed stadium from street level.]

Sidewalks and Climate Change

[Weather change affects sidewalks by snowing on them. Climate change affects people by making them use sidewalks.]

The climate change conference is wrapping up this week, and people all over the world are justifiably talking about how the US needs to cut its carbon emissions. 350 parts per million, 1990 emissions levels, 20% reductions by 2020, etc.

But all these numbers don’t seem to have much meaning. They’re abstract. They make you think of smokestacks or coal mines or hot and humid greenhouses with polar bears growing in them. They make you think about the milquetoast list at the end of Al Gore’s movie, maybe something about buying a Prius. But what does cutting carbon emissions really mean?

To put it quite simply, cutting carbon emissions means sidewalks. If we Americans are at all serious about fighting climate change, we’re going to have to start by changing our cities.

[Transportation is a huge chunk of US carbon emissions. We use far more of our energy in our cars and trucks than other countries. Img. BTS]

Cutting these numbers means dramatically reducing the amount of oil that we use in our cars and trucks. It means changing how much, and how far, we move around. Luckily, we have amazing new advanced technology that will replace these inefficient, CO2 spewing machines…

We all have feet, which, given advanced futuristic shoe and rubber technology, will step in to fill the car-sized hole in our lives.

Imagine the future...

Picture yourself walking to and from bus stops, schools, workplaces, corner stores, smaller movie theaters…

Are you happy? Of course you are!

On top of that, by designing walkable cities, we will necessarily start making smaller, denser homes that will reduce the energy spent on heating, another big contributor to climate change. If we start living in sidewalk-centered cities, we can cut emissions in both short- and long-terms, and the effects will begin to multiply as our everyday lives become more closely intertwined with feet.

(Granted, I am not remotely optimistic about much of this happening, or mattering. I have asymptotically close-to-zero hopes about governments reigning in their rates of GDP growth, which are very closely tied to fossil fuel use. Even the UK, one of the most aggressive Western countries at changing public policy, isn't meeting its goals. Though, they are kicking our English-speaking asses. And even re-designing cities won't really solve our problems. Carbon is pretty central to almost everything we do or produce as an industrial capitalist society.)

But, if change begins at home, then climate change begins at sidewalks. A low-carbon future will look a lot like our low-carbon pasts: sidewalks and dense living, walking far more and drive much less, neighborhoods replacing freeways as the centers of activity. Frankly, its not so bad.

[Famed urban designer, Jan Gehl, talks about what other (cold) cities can learn from Copenhagen about reducing auto-dependence and cutting carbon emissions.]

Sidewalk of the Week: Canal Park, Duluth

[Duluth is long, dense, and skinny. It's perfect for transit.]

I am in love with Duluth. It's always been a magical place for me, ever since I was a kid growing up in a Twin Cities suburb. Summers can get awful long, particularly when you're stuck in the middle of a continent as big as this one. Land all starts to look the same: trees ground flat house tree flat tree farm cow farm corn tree ground sky tree flat flat corn... &c.

It gets mighty old, and sometimes, to break the tedium, my folks would drive us up to visit my Aunt and Uncle in Duluth, back when Gino's Pizza Rolls were all the rage and Duluth was still an industrial mecca. And it seemed like a magic place, to get on the Freeway, drive until you got bored, stop at Tobie's (back before it became terrible) and drive North. The land gets hillier and hillier, and billboards become more and more frequent, and you go up a rise and down a valley and you feel like any minute you'll disappear and vanish and find yourself over a rainbow in some faraway land.

"First one to see Lake Superior gets a quarter", was the rule of the road, and we'd crane our necks over every rise to try and get a glimpse of the big blue lake stretching off into the horizon. And finally, you'd find that final rise and there it was, Duluth and the Lake! Some sort of industrial Minnesota fantasy of bridges and smokestacks and ships and a big old downtown and giant piles of something or other. And somehow in this flat, flat state you'd find yourself on a giant ridge, with hills straight out of San Francisco, cliffs of old houses and dilapidated Victorians, and Superior Street and the Train Station and the library that looked to my young eyes like a spaceship.

[The place to be was in front of the coffee shop. Cars were lined up around the block just to let people out at this corner.]

Still, though Canal Park was where you went when you got to Duluth. It was this little isthmus in the middle of the lake, the first place you get to where you can actually touch the water.* And it's got that crazy lift bridge, still going up and down each time the smallest and biggest ships shipped along. I've found myself there a few weeks ago, kind of randomly. It happened to be the week that the "tall ships" were visiting the harbor, and Canal Park was insanely packed. I have never seen a place so many cars and people jammed onto such a tiny spit of land...

[There was more jaywalking here than on Leno's show.]

Whenever I've spent a little time in the Duluth (a few days here or there, on- and off-season) I've come away thinking that it could be a great city. At the very least, it could be an ideal college town. The geography of the Duluth site makes it a really compact and dense place, almost perfectly designed for walkability and transit. It's long and narrow, located in a kind of boomerang shape along the harbor. It's a joy to walk around, and has a ton of historical building stock and mixed-use infrastructure. Plus, its situated on a truly unique landscape, probably one of the Earth's most incredible inland waterfronts.

Some of my favorite places include:

• The Nor-Shor theater**
• The Chinese restaurant that has the story about the bear
• The bookstore with the tons and tons of books
• The other smaller bookstore run by the really nice lady
• The Budd car
• The main street in West Duluth
  
• Morgan Park
  
• Park Point beach
  
• The Train Depot,
• Fitger's brewpub
  
• The Electric Fetus where I purchased the two most life-changing albums of my life***
  
• The awesome hippie britpub across the street from Fitger's
  
• The wonder that is The Duluth Family Sauna****.

[Some of Canal Park's many, many parking lots. They should rename it Canal Parking.]

That said, as its currently structured, Duluth has a long way to go to capitalize on its natural strengths. For some reason, the city built an interstate right through the middle of town (the last few miles of I-35, before it ends in Two Harbors). The freeway, even though its in a semi-tunnel, really starkly separates the lakefront from the downtown, making the large investments like the DECC convention center and the aquarium into underpopulated boondoggles. The downtown has a bunch of skyways, which I cannot believe get much use. Sure it's cold there, but because they split the city's pedestrian population in two, they really make it that much more difficult to revive the economy downtown.

[People scurry across the crosswalk near the Canal Park clock.]

What the city really needs is a way to connect itself more closely with the Twin Cities, and a way to connect the downtown area more closely to Canal Park. It needs to be a place where people can stroll around and wander. It has more unused sidewalk potential than any other place in Minnesota, including downtown Saint Paul. Some transit investment would be a great move, and politicians have been talking for a long time about re-creating a train line that would run to and from the Cities. Bike lanes wouldn't hurt, either. There's certainly plenty of space for them.

I'm not sure how to go about reinvigorating Duluth's sidewalks. What I saw when I was there last month was a tragic misallocation of automobiles. I'd bet that the percentage of the Canal Park ground cover that is devoted to surface parking lots is way over half. Cars were coming out of every corner of the city, and all so that people could stroll around the lift bridge and enjoy the experience of being on a teensy patch of lakeshore. Did they know that there is far more to Duluth than just the Shipping Museum? Give me 4th Street any day over Canal Park.

I realize, of course, that it's a vacation town, and that during the 9-month off-season, Duluth is deader than the late Jerry Garcia. And the terrible, terrible state of the Duluth city budget means that none of these ideas will come to pass anytime soon. They're literally selling the city out from under the people, and laying off half the civic employees to try and fill a huge budget deficit. They are really missing their Local Government Aid.

It makes me sad. I love you, Duluth! I hope you feel better someday.


[geocode]

* What I mean is, it seems like all the waterfront in Duluth is actually used, as a waterfront! Like, they have ships and stuff that ship things using water for buoyancy, and the shorelines are devoted to things that actually use water for practical purposes. As an avid Minneapolis waterfront fan, this is a bit hard for me to figure out.
** Now a "gentleman's club".
*** Miles Davis' Kind of Blue, and Glenn Gould's Goldberg Variations (the second one), still my favorite albums after almost 20 years of near-constant listening.
**** I have never patronized this establishment, but I have taken a tour.