From El Duce: For anyone who hasn’t seen the Kurt Cobain documentary playing at the Lagoon cinema, I offer this unsolicited review. Net: Obviously not an A&E reader. As with all things unsolicited, it’s yours to digest as your constitution allows. Here goes:
The Courtney conspiracy theory is VERY believable, even if her dad originally came up with it and he’s crazed. Net: The only thing we could believe at the end of that film was that the filmmakers somehow managed to put together the greatest collection of low-lifes and wastes of flesh seen on film since “Birth of a Nation.” Our theory is that Kurt killed himself to avoid hanging out with the “friends” portrayed in that film. The Courtney exes are fabulous, especially “El Duce.”
Net: Actually, if you watched the film (and NITWIT did, in Greenwich Village last month — he’s WAY ahead of you), you’d realize that El Duce (whose name and appearance should remind you of Mussolini) wasn’t an ex. Even Courtney has standards.
And DAMN the flick was good.
On a less fun and more serious note, local writer Emily Carter just got the cover story of this month’s POZ magazine. Net: Congrats, Em. Today POZ, tomorrow the world — or maybe Pulse.
She has much to say of the area and the critics, and she deserves more readership than just the restaurant reviews she was occasionally tossed by the Reader. I expect to see and read much more from her, and hope our paltry arts culture would show a bit of support by reviewing one of her open mic sessions soon.
It’s always a bit sad that local artists almost have an easier time making waves nationally than locally. We are, as a local population, way too easily impressed by those who aren’t from here, just because they aren’t from here. OK, I’m off my soapbox now.
Spend a few dollars to support your local arts community, folks. Net: Hey. We thought you were off your soapbox.

From Ciao: Hello Net. Net: Hi. Normally I would not be inclined to complain about something as juvenile as the vending services offered at this fine institution Net: Which, rumor has it, will soon distribute pancakes, but I’ve had enough this time, so here goes:
The other day, not wanting to drop a pound or two of fluids walking to get lunch, I bit the bullet and figured I’d eat at the deli (the vending machines). Not having any dollar bills, I went to put some cash on my U Card so I could get something to eat. Well, the card thingy wouldn’t take my five so I was forced to dump $10 on that card. Net: Go to the library. Copy a fascinating article on math. Stop complaining.
Anyway, at least now I could get some food.
Upon reaching the vending machines I noticed that, surprise, the U Card reader was out of service. Remembering that I could break my five in a change machine, I went to do this, trying to figure out if the hassle was worth it, considering the condition of the culinary prize I was sure to receive upon actually getting the change. Nonetheless, I was starving, so I got the change, a whole $5 worth. Arriving at the vending machine, I gathered my change and decided to get a salad. If you haven’t seen the salads, they come in plastic containers, much like sandwiches from the Rec Center.
Net: And if you haven’t seen the sandwiches from the Rec., you’re probably a panty-waisted second-class citizen, so nobody cares. Let’s WORK OUT!
Well, having forked over $1.90 for a salad, the container bursts right open upon hitting the floor of the machine. Thank you, vending bastards.
The next time YOU see a salad, take a peek at how brown that lettuce is. It would be nice if we could get some decent food out of those machines, but if you’re going to continue, fill it with food that looks and tastes decent. And at least put it in the machines the right way.
Net: Yes. Hear our plea, oh lords of vending! We are supplicant. Heed our call. Or else. Shine on, y’all. And watch out for the plastic — it kills waterfowl.