Take Refuge
Greg Landig started collecting beer paraphernalia as a kid in the '70s and '80s. The brewerania (I prefer "memorabeerlia") now fills Landig's bar, The Bomb Shelter (1517 S. Second St., 414-384-2662). Items like vintage Hamm's "Scene-O-Rama" signs and a schooner made from Pabst cans create a hybrid neighborhood tavern/museum of barley propaganda. I walk into the cozy spot and sit at one of roughly 15 bar stools. Several Pabst globe lamps illuminate my drinking space and a 3-foot metal "bar back lady," holding a Schlitz globe behind the bar, coaxes me into ordering a flavorful "original recipe" Schlitz (in a vintage goblet, of course). Schlitz shares the list of more than 100 classic bottled and canned beers with Hamm's, Black Label and Blatz. I can't stomach Blatz, but it's nice to be in a friendly corner bar that harkens back to the days when plenty of big local breweries existed. (Dan Murphy)
Confisc-art
Airport screening has become routine. We automatically keep our pocket knives and squirt guns out of our luggage and no longer complain about taking off our shoes. But California artist Michele Pred redirects our awareness back to the absurdity of this practice. Pred makes art out of confiscated airport materials. One piece in this (Dis)Possessions exhibit (through Oct. 12 at Sheboygan's John Michael Kohler Art Center) offers a sculptural wreath of combs, knives, tweezers, plastic guns and lighters. It is pretty in an ad-hoc way and telling in another: None of these things look "dangerous," but our threatened global condition has now turned the innocuous into the potentially mass-destructive. At her most eloquent, Pred hangs manicure scissors from filament in a delicately absurd installation or crafts a map of the United States from razor blades. When the most benign item of one decade can shape-shift into a post-9/11 threat, one begins to understand just how contingent our notion of "things" can be. (Debra Brehmer)
Sieger Subsequent
Long defunct, but always locally pervasive, the R&B Cadets have yielded the two foremost Milwaukee stalwarts of Roots music: Paul Cebar, whose recent ventures hold down the Latin and African influences, and John Sieger, who remains focused on the Americana of old - singer/songwriter vibes to the end, but with nods to Stax, Motown and the many miles of highway that stretch south. These are the roads for which Sieger's rough-hewn voice and steady guitar hand lend a guide on his new CD, Shaming of the True
Wondering What's Next
With her dog Keeper, 20-year-old, "not quite right" amateur investigative reporter Gibby McGraw solves several murder mysteries, including the death of her parents in the accident that injured Gibby's brain. Land of a Hundred Wonders ,an improbable hell-bent comedy set in modern-day Kentucky, takes us back to Nancy Drew and comic books. Not to mention over-the-top Southern gothic stories in which the characters ride horses bareback at midnight, hide out in caves and discover dead bodies that then disappear. All is recounted by Gibby, who struggles for the right word and is never at a loss for a metaphor or a cute malapropism. By the middle of the novel - the second from Milwaukee-based author Lesley Kagen - I wanted Gibby to sit still and just think about things in unadorned English sentences. I wait for the more nuanced, better-paced novel I am sure a person of Kagen's talents can write. (Martha Bergland)
Massive Market
As I peruse the long, seemingly endless aisles at Woodman's Food Market ,I become disoriented. Towers of cereal, crackers, etc. loom at every corner, ladies in motorized scooters buzz slowly about (that elusive soda aisle would make anyone want a scooter), and I have no idea what is where. I'm surrounded by 70,000 different products, and I don't know how to get out. Seriously, this place is huge - 237,000-square-feet huge. And it has everything. Need gas, the complete Harry Potter collection and a 20-pound bag of kibble? Go to Woodman's. Searching for a framed poster of Vince Lombardi, a gigantic alcohol selection and some soy hot dogs? Woodman's is your place. And with the opening of the Oak Creek store in April (8131 S. Howell Ave.), you don't need to trek to the Kenosha location anymore. But is it all it's cracked up to be? It comes down to this: We calculated an average savings of 15 percent over Pick 'n Save. Is that worth wading through a bazillion kinds of jelly and not being able to use your credit card? Your call. (Evan Solochek)
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