A new wine bar called Clever opened last week in Mid-City. It’s attached to the wine shop Cork & Bottle, and run by the same proprietor, Jon Smith.

The wine bar’s name references a quote attributed to the ancient Greek dramatist Aristophanes:

Quickly, bring me a beaker of wine so I may wet my mind and say something clever.”

No matter how the quality of conversation shapes up here, the space itself is very smart. The clean, modern design plays off its industrial setting in the American Can Building, with cool cement walls and floor. A passageway connects the bar directly with the wine shop.

The bar list includes about 30 wines by the glass, plus some liquors and bottled beer. This isn’t the place to go for a Cosmo or a mojito, but it is a great venue to geek out on new-to-you wines and an alternative to smoky barrooms (smoking inside is not allowed). The list is diverse in both variety and price, with plenty of options at $5 to $7 a glass.

The place should be hopping on Thursdays during the Mid-City Green Market, the farmers market that Smith created last spring and runs in the American Can building parking lot.

Clever is opens at 4 p.m. Monday through Saturday.

In Louisiana, we often find ourselves playing “defensive politics.”

When someone from elsewhere brings up Ray Nagin, we say “Oh, yeah? What about Kwame Kilpatrick?”

David Vitter? “At least he’s not Larry Craig!”

Bill Jefferson? “Heard of a guy called Ted Stevens?”

So the next time a New Orleans City Council member becomes the subject of national ridicule, remember these words: “Oh, yeah? What about Steven Lipski?”:

Pea-brained Jersey City Councilman Steven Lipski swore off booze Sunday - two days after he was busted for urinating on a crowd of revelers at a Washington D.C. nightclub.

“I’ve resolved not to touch alcohol again,” Lipski told reporters outside his home.

He called the incident “deeply humiliating, very embarrassing” and “troubling.”

Still, the two-term Democrat refused to admit that he drunkenly relieved himself from the second-floor balcony of the 9:30 club Friday night.

“I can’t comment on that,” Lipski told Fox 5. “I’m going to continue to do all the good things, and I’m not going to let this overshadow me.”….

Lipski, 44, in Washington to see a Grateful Dead tribute band, was hauled out of the concert hall by cops after staffers spotted him in the act about 9:50 p.m., club sources said.

He was charged with simple assault.

I think the “Grateful Dead tribute band” is just as embarrassing.

Some wicked wit is having fun with the very funny (and pseudonymous) parody blog The Secret Diary of Sidney Torres IV. A sample:

People worldwide rave about how clean SDT-WDS keeps the French Quarter. Everybody knows that the French Quarter has never been cleaner- Pre and Post Katrina. That’s because I am a very detailed clean freak. You can tell just by looking at me. My clothes are perfectly pressed and fitted. My hair is meticulously coiffed. I have a fine eye for detail. If I meet with someone who has, say, a stain on their their tie, spinach in their teeth, or have their shirt tucked in without wearing a belt, I start visibly twitching and have to leave the room. I get seriously distressed. It’s just in my chemistry and that’s why the French Quarter is so clean.

Oh, just one more:

I’m still clearing my head after the big Kid Rock party-a-thon. Don’t get me wrong; I love hanging with Bob, but I’ve got business to conduct and it’s best done without a hangover. Al Copeland (God rest his soul and more about him later) was cool enough to set me up with a personal oxygen bar and it really helps when too much libation is the issue.

Over the months, “Sidney” has been discussing Bill Jefferson, Helena Moreno, Stacy Head, Kid Rock, Chris Rose, NPR, and former Gambit staffer Sarah Andert, and I’ve been missing all his penetrating, lemon-fresh insights. No more. You’ve been bookmarked, Faux Sidney.

*Hat tip to Adrastos for the tip-off.

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Well it’s been a full day since the the final whistle mercifully ended yesterday’s Saints game and, as you’d might expect, the Who Dat-sphere is busy mourning the loss of the season.

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Daddy, do we have to watch this?

My 7-year old son has said these words to me dozens if not hundreds of times. Usually they’re uttered when I’m watching the news, any golf tournament without Tiger Woods or, lately, a presidential debate. For the first time Sunday, I heard them during a Saints game.

I took my son to his first Saints game at the Superdome during the 2006 season. He was all of five years old. The Saints beat the Buccaneers thanks in part to Reggie Bush’s first touchdown as a pro, a lightning bolt punt return down the sideline. We leaped out of our seats and cheered until our throats were sore. My son was hooked for life. In the last two seasons, we’ve been to the Dome for a few more games, all of which the Saints somehow won. I hoped against hope that the Saints he would come to know would make all the big plays, win all the big games and be a team of joy and celebration, an escape from the trials and challenges of life in New Orleans. I hoped my son would be spared the feeling that pervades this city on a Monday morning following a Saints loss. The feeling that this isn’t what a team on it’s way to the next level, what a season leading up to the Superbowl or what a pivotal game against a division foe is supposed to look like.

My son is only seven and he knew things didn’t look right in Sunday’s game against the reviled Falcons. When Jerious Norwood turned a 5-yard toss from rookie QB Matt Ryan – by the way, is there any team more adept than the Saints at making rookies and second string QB’s look like Tom Brady? – into a 67-yard high-stepping touchdown run with 14:40 left in the game, my young Saints fan had seen enough. I turned off the TV and we went out into the yard to have a catch.

Daddy, let’s play two-hand touch! I’m gonna be the Giants!

The way things look right now, can you blame him?