Leave yr city behind...

From Central Florida's The Local 6.com:

Some Central Florida trappers have reported a significant increase in the number of calls for help with alligators and snakes at homes during the area's recent spell of dry weather, according to a Local 6 News report.

"My company has tripled with the snake calls," trapper Jim Bronzo said. "The snakes are at dried up retention ponds, they eat the frogs and fish and they are ending up in people's pools and their garages."

During dry weather like Central Florida has been experiencing, lake levels drop and water recedes from vegetation. It then exposes the animals and leaves them searching for new places to hide, Local 6 News reported.

"Warmer weather increases animal activity and that means gators and snakes are on the move," Local 6 reporter Louis Bolden said.

Bronzo has been working overtime trapping snakes at homes.

"Unfortunately, some are water moccasins that are dangerous," Bronzo said. "Most are the water snakes which look similar."

Other homeowners have called for help with alligators.

"Folks, I hope you understand how dangerous an (alligator) like this is when he is out of his element," trapper Bill Robb said.

Residents who find alligators or snakes in or around their home were urged to call professionals, the report said.

Back in the 80's, there were a lot of deceptively violent, drug addicted, homosexuals who just loved Husker Du; there were a lot of suburban, violent, white drunks that moved downtown who just loved The Replacements; there were a lot of funky black people who loved loud guitars, in addition to driving beats, in songs about fucking, who just loved Prince. Minneapolis had identities to its music. And everybody intermingled. But the chief fact was that the music was born here. They were professional musicians, to be sure, but they were also professional Minnesotans; and even though they've gone down different paths that have produced various results, you can walk around Block E and Uptown with a headset on, listening to that stuff and still get a bit of the reverb.

Which unfortunately brings me to the Goddamned Gleam, and their new disk, Lookout for Evils.

I'm not going to analyze lyrics, or even, God forbid, talk you into going out and seeing this band. If I did that, you would surely be disappointed. You know why? Because you've spent the last 3 or 4 years of your life watching American Idol. YOU think that good music means some little girl or little boy who can belt out Celine Deion's greatest hits in perfect tune. Some skinny self important British asshole and a former Laker girl whose favorite meal is the nail on her right ring finger have insured that.

Look, they sing out of tune, they play out of tune, but there simply isn't a more Minnesotan band in the state right now. Cover bands and acts who begin their interviews with lame fucking phrases like, "this is a business," have washed over this state and destroyed everything that we hold holy about First Avenue, Lee's Liquor Lounge, the 400 Bar, the Fine Line, the Turf Club, the Cabooze, the Triple Rock, the Entry, and God knows where else a man, woman, boy, or girl can go to get some fucking reality.

They're the Goddamned Gleam. They got gigs all over the place this week, next week, next month, the month after that. You probably won't go. I don't care. Greil Marcus doesn't care. But Greil Marcus lies awake at night, rubbing his own cock, fretting over the fact that he's not Lester Bangs.

My biggest cinematic guilty pleasure is the the vastly underrated Basquiat, where the artist is portrayed by Jeffrey Wright...you know, "that guy in that one movie." The whole point of the movie is that art, when it's happening, is probably stupid; and, if recognized at the time it's happening, probably overblown; and, if overblown, probably destructive, and ultimately, not really art. The Goddamned Gleam is that Minnesota music art implosion. They make no fucking sense at all, but I guaran-fuckin-tee you that all the music-heads in this town are going to be shitting all over themselves to say they saw them first in a couple of months. It's just that stupid, and wonderful, and real, and awesome. Me...I like them because they make me punch the sky and demand satisfaction from the Great Magnet...who owes me one or two.

Fuck the Gleam.