On a Saturday afternoon in mid-February, winter is making its presence felt. The TV weather terrorists are in a tizzy, giddily predicting a foot of snow by day's end. We've got laundry to do and a sidewalk to shovel, but then we spot the sandwich board on the sidewalk in front of the squat, mustard-colored bar at the corner of University and 13th avenues. "Bloody Marys. $3." And all of those good intentions evaporate into the snowy air and we find ourselves bellying up to the dark, quiet, wooden bar. There are only a handful of other skells in the joint, but one of them is plugging the jukebox and apparently has a weakness for the Cure and the Smiths. Eventually we become curious about what other musical nuggets might be found on the beat-up jukebox. Turns out it's been assembled with the kind of care more commonly associated with a curator at the Walker Art Center. Prince, "When Doves Cry"; Elvis, "All Shook Up"; the Jayhawks, "Save It for a Rainy Day"; Foo Fighters, "Everlong"; the Animals, "We Gotta Get Out of This Place"; the Replacements, "Mr. Whirly"; the Clash, "All Lost in the Supermarket"; Run-DMC, "Walk This Way." There were many more tracks played that we dutifully scribbled down on a bar napkin that afternoon in the name of journalistic thoroughness, but somewhere in that haze of alcohol and rock 'n' roll it disappeared.