Unlike the rest of the Doctors of Za, who came from places with exotic names like “Milwaukee,” “La Crosse,” “Menasha”, and later ended up at UW-Oshkosh, I was actually brought up in Oshkosh’s fertile crescent of booze, boats and substandard housing, and then stayed in town to go to the university where the Doctors of Za first started our mating rituals. So when that pill-head T-Mario starts telling you how Oshkosh has only three great pizza places—Cranky Pat’s (which is just expensive frozen pizza), West End Pizza (which is named as such because you leave the end of your anus in the toilet after you eat it, and anuses flush in a westward direction) and Ratch & Debs (I lived in literal walking distance from here for 17 years and never ate it, so I guess it could be good)—I feel I’m the only doctor than can set that fool straight. Read more »

There’s something about a hidden treasure that totally gets my rocks off. 

In the same way that I immediately recognize that I want to do the sex to the uptight girl in glasses in most ’80s movies — even before she lets her hair down, smokes a spliff, fast dances and totally blows off finals to go to the beach! — I feel I’m able to look beyond the implied swank of a restaurant hot spot in favor of an understated and time-tested dining venue. In doing that, I find value in a place like Lisa’s Pizza, a valentine of local pizza that’s given me one of my best Milwaukee dining experiences to date.
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Around noon on New Year’s Eve, T. Mario and I decided to try out one of the pizza joints in town that we had been meaning to go to. Unfortunately, the three we had in mind were all closed until later in the afternoon. Seeing as we’d lost about an hour on this quest, we decided to just stop at the next pizzeria we found. Luckily for us we didn’t have to wait long. We came across Angelo’s Pizza on the corner of 16th and Wells on the Marquette campus.

Now I had heard of Angelo’s before, and good things about it too. But I was under the impression it wasn’t open any longer. When I first moved to Milwaukee, my dad had recommended going there for pizza, but he couldn’t remember exactly where it was and the Internet didn’t provide any results. Which is weird, because now a Google search for “Angelo’s Pizza Milwaukee” will show you exactly where the place is. So anyway, the place still exists, and I was finally able to see what my dad was talking about.
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Like abortion, religion and Brett Favre, I’ve found Pizza Shuttle to be a rather polarizing topic. 

Since it was berthed on Milwaukee’s East Side in 1985, Shuttle has cultivated a loyal following — one cheap and overtly cheesy thick crust pizza at a time. Equally, it has garnered its fair share of hatred through over the years with its spotty service, Chuck E. Cheese for adults-type atmosphere, and hit-and-miss quality that makes the Son of Sam murders seem consistent by comparison.

Love it or hate it, if you live in or near Milwaukee, you almost certainly have an opinion of Pizza Shuttle. Here is mine.
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