The constant news on quakes and such of the spring/summer has been quaking lately, even though there was that related time when mom thought it was cool to dance on the tabletop, spilling the water that was eventually melding into wine, since the food was slow in coming …

— And to segue yes, tariffs have now hit with their impact, officially, on grocery prices, we are told. As the postponements are now past, athough tracking it gets to be tricky. And with these, we are assured by all but Trump — such as these are co-current with the student loan forgiveness now no longer being fully foregiven — prices on things from (thongs) to produce to protein will soon if not as we speak go up. Two examples follow.

At the local County Market grocery store, and boy have they amped up their great service as everyone is competing to dine for a smaller dime that is now a nickel, even though they spend like it is a full buck, though all taking no quarter, we see and have seen this: That long aisle for mineral and drinking water, and we won’t even mentioned distilled, has had multiple shelves for top-demand product virtually empty at times, while other brands have half-pallets waiting to be stocked sitting beneath. I don’t know if this has to do with tariff to-do or supply chain shortages or whatnot, but I had not seen this there before, and now have twice in a week or two. (I will admit this passage is a take-a-passby and see what you can see in various stores, not a scientific study, since as I’ve said, things change so quickly these days, so be skeptical if you wish.) More-over, County Market offered all-natural bone-in center-cut family-pack pork chops for $2.69 a pound early last month, where now at a local meat shop (butchery?) and I know this may be to compare apples to oranges and make note of a different type of chop other than pork, to transpose numbers a bit, it’s $6.29 per pound per loin. Has tariff fever hit? —

OK, Lake Michigan was not nearly displaced — that would take my aging uncle diving in even back in just-post-college days — but if you were in touristing over in Bangkok it might have sent waves over the wall railing-edge of a hotel rooftop pool. That’s when mom first started baking a cake for a whole host of spring holidays, before she was feted on Mother’s Day, with quagmires of chocolate all-around. OK, I made the part up about my mom dancing on tablecloths, but not my uncle in the pool, which coulda, shoulda been verified by my old friend, who had lived in Bangkok, born and raised there, and said that there are some places you can safely go, but she should know about dancing there due to our discussion of the song referencing “Another night in Bangkok,” and what it will do to even strong men, because of other places such as seedy hotels …

— Eggxactly. Omelettes are back in for Mother’s May, and previously Easter too, since County Market issued a freebie for a dozen large eggs, good through June 30, and Kwik Trip another such but less timely egg freebie, despite the high costs associated with Bird Flu, unless it is now quelled. And the County Market flyer also hawked an associated free pound of bananas, despite tariff price concerns, although a pound does not typically cost them that much anyway, so chopped fruit for brunches on both holidays? But they need to check their mailing list. It was sent specifically to me — I guess they thought mom needs some love after me teasing her about dancing on the tabletop — saying welcome to the neighborhood, and we wish you all the best in your new home. Uhm, I have lived here for two years and two rounds of the holidays, and it’s an apartment!

As long as we are referencing the highest Catholic Holy Day, we have to mention the next following-event, post-conclave sign above Agave Kitchen, saying simply Habemus Papam, in other words and there often are many when associated with Catholicism, we have a (new) pope!

Simply put, the announcement is usually made by a senior cardinal deacon, along with the now famous white smoke. Does owner Paul have such a rank, and was there such a wisp above the third story of his building? (I must admit when I first saw the proclamation written on the wall, I thought it could be a bad death metal CD title, or possible a (new) musician character in the band Ghost.) —

And the friend should know about dancing as she could do not only the splits but a move where her one knee was fully bent down and the other stuck out over the floor about six-inches high all-around. Even at 63, I can still — almost — do the splits and used to even dunk a basketball, barely pushing it over the front of the rim. Both a very young server friend and not quite as young nephew took great dispute to that, as I further digress.

Anyway, it was back in late spring when the wake moved the earth throughout the bad parts of town, and shook hotels around the pristine part of the city, and now I will fully call it an earthquake, making pools many floors high tilt and spill their water in small sets of big splatters. No word on flowery drinks or tableside umbrellas; or the slums not far away. Water is hard to come by there. No pools. Barely a dripping faucet. A big building will behave that way too, if it’s tilted partly toward its side. Even when shown a bit later on TV news, crashing down toward the camera-man. Or mom taking a (rare) selfie.

Do they have earthquakes in Greenland? Or Iceland. Or Panama, you know where the big canal is, with China owning the port areas on both sides. We could get involved in even more rainy landslides and floods. Back INTO the sea. More likely icebergs. Like the H2O flows of killer hurricanes, but involving water as well as air. So get back in the studio with an easel, weather artist Karine. There is more signature art work to do, like was brushed in a church basement room and sold to aid the people who had lost roofs and more in and about their former houses. “When the levee breaks,” Led Zep sings, ” I’m gonna die today …” Dragged into the rising waters, like those flowing back into the seas.

Then hours later shown on the TV News. Quakes all the time, and they mostly in my quick take are along the south rim or near it of some continents. (Tornados it seems almost always accompany too, virtually daily.) That would include Florida and across to Texas, and up the Mississippi and Appalachians, with my niece formerly living near the base of that large water mass in big ol’ Texas. Is now, Madison with its mass (of people this time) any better?

The university there houses, or has housed many members of the family. Snow aplenty but no major storms in their neighborhoods, yet. There was that one deadly shooting not far away.

So try out the School Of Rock. The story (lyrics?) goes something like this: Video showing a bus, on cable TV every two hours in rotation. Drumming with your sticks on the back of the seat. Waiting … Or more telling, singing your heart out of an empty window. Then the band teacher came back on board next to the driver with news; he could have two decades ago been Jack Black, and I explained the trademark AC/DC song to mom. First there was second place. Slight polite applause. Then the biggie announcement. They won with that Voice.

But wait. No record deal. Many universities like others including Harvard are being challenged over what they teach, with a removal of their funding from the feds. So we have more legal challenges, hearings, injunctions, indictments, deportations, extensions, expulsions, suspensions if you are more lucky … The courts are so tied up with so many evildoers they are hiring as many bailiffs as judges. So many more very tall and bald guys are needed. Small guys need not apply. Not so much funky judges who do card tricks. This is not Night Court.

But back to mom and weather, to close. Her bad hip and lower back had been classified as a compression (depression) of her spine, in the areas of L4, L5 and I think L6. Here I’d thought those were hurricane strengths! Or is that tornado?

This is a man of not many faces but few, tethered to Tesla and to be forever known as its space-case frontman.

And that rock-star see-it-everywhere but not-just-where-staged face, might be ghoulish-looking as a Marilyn Manson or an Edgar Winter, and OK maybe a bit less pale, possibly in both cases. And these days, he’s maybe better known to all but the core audiences. Or be as geeky as in their western-Wisconsin-group comparison, the Dweebs, or if you look the wrong way when taking in the nationwide, Weezer. And while talking about themes like space travel, don’t forget all the geezers in those old metal bands. (But Musk does give much, a lot like Metallica, just not onstage, as those heavy metal all-stars are Major League when it comes to charity.)

Or in that Tesla territory’s philanthropy, which took center stage until he spread his axes onto those with whom his ilk has forged an angst on taxes among other things, further spawning unbelief in basically, democracy and due process and the rule of law.

— I just met an actual astronaut, in a space day at the local library, and we talked about, among other things Elon Musk. The space flight guy said that creative thinkers, who are a little out-there but have great but unconvential ideas, are the ones he’d put on his team. Such as maybe Musk, who he said is a bit odd though very smart, but because of the success of his main company is — how to say — a man to be reckoned with. Despite his political ambitions, which the autronaut described as simply “trolling.”

I mentioned to him that I’d just happened to stream the song Space Truckin’ by Deep Purple, which is about the Moonshot and race into space domination. He said that he liked the tune, but never got past playing the opening riff on the guitar, though he interjected, at least twice including when I was leaving the library, that he was curious about my interpretation of meaning and would listen again. —

Many of our leaders, and some of the masses, would be the ones awake to the establishment of a new Caesar, or a set of them going forward — that’s what one conservative think tank is calling for — and piously promoting their reign again on this end of the earth, this time. Trump, and also Musk, are closely watching this further unfold.

(At this juncture I must enter into, the point of, to those whom much is given, much will be expected, and should be received. We will get back around to that in a bit, with Musk’s charitable giving.)

First a further exploration of what got us to this point, as this is a new realm, bigger than those seen before in this century and maybe even the one before, and even entering into space, of unbridled aristocracy autonomous with audacious authoritarianism and autocracy.

— The nature of Musk’s charities, although they do include a big subdivisision built for his workers, does not exactly make him in the league of a Warren Buffett or Sam Walton, but hey, you still gotta give the guy credit. He’s giving back to at least some communities, something some of his ilk has been criticized for not doing. Because just like Nickelback, “We all just want to be big rock stars … driving 15 cars … and have a bathroom I can play baseball in …” —

But every Caesar needs a right-hand-man and this time that is the Musk mel-man, delivering You’re Fired notices even moreso than his boss. Not content with growing a business empire, and zapping the world with his electric cars and the wealth gained, he now counsels, and indeed controls and commands — for now until the full political liability hits — the leader of the former free world.

However, each Caesar with a confidante has his Brutus, a killer deed that maybe done easier since Roman bars were open practically all day and night. (And do you really want to be ruled by a behemoth like a Nero or Caligula, even if a bit benevolent, if he turns drunk?) It turns out that our wanna-be-Caesar might have an Achilles Heel in the political liability coming in the form of that brazen one, the one who might as well be bearing bitter battery clamps to the nipples, from his cars.

That will shake up also the opposing battalions, even if they’re not Amazons, though ruler Trump has shown only lust not love for women.

Some may be a bit drawn to No. 1, despite the bad rug, but not No. 2, the big regulator. Even though the latter could take away his geeky and not with archvillain hype, looks-like-a-jaundiced Christopher Walken, and give it some stage presence. And also forgo the anti-glam of, I am Darryl, and this is my brother Darryl and my other brother Darryl. Less daunting.

The dough …

OK, so back to what it is from this man that has been received — and not via his being super-model material — other than pink slips, even if not at his auto company.

What has the richest man in the world done for charity?

It turns out quite a bit. But with caveats.

He just a few years ago, in 2021, gave $5.7 billion — yes the B word — to charities, granted most of them being ones that would also aid his causes, as in his company — through his Musk Foundation. (Although years for and aft not nearly as much money, but still in the Bs.) Most of this did not come from writing out a check, something he and his accountants might have learned from Trump that it can be quite precarious to do — or maybe not so much so — since Donald at times had scant little money to back it. But Musk as easily the world’s wealthiest car manufacturer did, though still preferring to dish out the dole via the form of things like stock shares, from things like his Tesla car company, or what amounted to as much, through his Musk Foundation. That foundation, despite its huge-scale philanthropy, has been at times chided for, get this, reportedly not reach the giving threshold set by the IRS.

(The foundation, begun in 2001, although not avoiding criticism, supports various causes such as renewable energy, space exploration, education, and the development of safe AI, and has made significant donations, of tens of millions, to groups like the St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital and the XPrize Foundation, supporting technological advancements including carbon renewal, as he has been a proponent of climate change as a long-term philanthrophy goal. It has also backed schools by supplying them with millions in equipment.)

There were other creative ways to go get the job done, and in some cases, even though he has been chided for simply being worldwide in the right place at the right time, with his electric car brand, these just showed him to be a good businessman. Like many voters regard HIS presidential boss to be — another reason to clump them together and term them Edonald — even though that opinion has been for years on the wane. The prime example that comes to mind with Elon Musk is building an entire large subdivision, and not cheap houses as this is far from HUD and The Projects, to be residences for large numbers of his Silicon Valley employees, such as in and around Brownsville, Texas, where SpaceX has a spaceport — although it’s not known if they were actual chip makers. There’s not many employers that can do that, a tribute to the success of Tesla, et al.

It is worthy of note that the year of $5 billion-plus giving came right at the time that Tesla really hit its stride with a financial foothold, both domestically and worldwide. In a few other years it was more like $2 billion. The nature of the charities does not exactly make him in the league of a Sam Walton, but hey, you still gotta give the guy credit. He’s giving back to at least some communities, something some of his ilk has been criticized for not doing. Because just like Nickelback, “We all just want to be big rock stars … driving 15 cars … and have a bathroom I can play baseball in …” Though Musk, as the nation’s and world’s leading geek, probably doesn’t have the needed coordination. But he has paid for lobster dinner, in lieu of, for many Wisconsin voters. Or at least that was the proposal.

(Buffett remains the most generous total donor, at a reported $62 billion all-time.)

However, there is the looming reminder of the sign outside the not nearly as lucrative St. Croix County Democratic Party headquarters, “Not paid for by Elon Musk. Not for sale.”

Burgers battles are bygone, except for the current one in Roberts. So now we go nachos. The Hudson Area Chamber of Commerce and Tourism Bureau currently is sponsoring a best nachos contest, with about a dozen entrants. The winning diner, and I thought I’d dine too and you’ll see that backstory in a minute, gets $50 in Chamber Bucks. Just go online to enter, making it a point to crunch and consider, than complete it by casting one vote only, that for your fave set of chips. Sample all you want first, but hurry, as the contest ends May 5.

So, good for me. I had avocados on the shelf in my fridge, and no Mexican-based food ideas for using them. They were sitting there reminding me of my last guacamole, eaten among other entrees at Easter brunch with tomatoes even mixed in, as these all are soon bound to go up in price.

My answer. I saw the sign. Advertising the contest. Hey, I could get some nachos, enter the contest, or better yet write about it, and chop up the avocados and mix in. And I thought for an example, I’d go to the deli/cafe nearest to me that is an entrant, Hudco To Go, then do a review.

The owner met me right away and said that when he heard about the contest, he thought about doing something different — offer some of their six-pepper-cheddar nachos at their regular rate of only $6, not the double digits you’d expect to see.

It turned out the nachos in their contender in the battala were good even before the avocado.

First, topping it off are liberal helpings of the six-pepper cheddar cheese from the DePere-based small business, FacePunch/That Girl Brie and Harmony Cheese, and theirs and other cheeses are also available for purchase onsite at the Locust Street deli, outside the scope of the contest, and on a counter are bottles of, again, six of Facepunch’s hot sauces if you wish, plus one more in-volume bottle too, as OK we heat it up just a bit, so hey I’m gonna punch your face, like Ted Nugent sings in Stranglehold. Thereby Hudco To Go goes to the other end of the state to get you an original product. There are dozens of other top-offs offered for sale on the next-down counter.

— May the Fourth be with you, two different signs say, and the double-digit-difference in high temperatures waxed and waned on that night and before, thus bringing volumes of people more and less, and party buses the same, to downtown Hudson. Even on that in-the-30s coldest night, a bus was pulled up alongside a spot on the sidewalk where I’d never seen one before. People gathered each other in a group, and a lone woman smoked a cig opposite them, perched on a park bench alongside the wall.

But on Friday night was a sight for sore eyes, a woman in the tiniest triangle bikini top I’d ever seen, not on the beach but in the middle of the downtown. I for a moment wondered that if she entered an older-person-attracting antique shop, and might turn off its main customer base, would she be frowned upon. At Dick’s was someone in a top not much bigger and a leather miniskirt much like that worn by the first two women, and I just had to tell her that I liked her throwback look, although in the 80s, unlike me already in my mid-20s, she had probably not yet been born. She smiled. “In the wink of a young girl’s eye, glory days.” It was one of several by chance, off the cuff brief conversations I had there that evening, all a breath of fresh air. —

Back at Hudco To Go, their nachos start with a burrito-based concept, the owners say, and use chips that are cheesy and slightly spicy, homemade ground-beef taco meat with a similar spice consistency, a salsa of chopped tomatoes of various sizes and chilis and onions of what looks to be more than one type, the shop’s own blend of spices, among other add-ins. The chips are toasted, which adds a bit of crisp to the edges.

The dish as a whole has a moderate heat level, which varies by the bite. Condiment packets of red hot tabasco sauce are available. There is also offered, to top off your nachos or other dish, a condiment bar with two groups of two hot peppers each, more tomato, lettuce, a different kind of onion (Bermuda), and a flavored relish with three kinds of vegetables.

The owners indicated that, as far as others in the contest, Dipsy Ice Cream stands out by mixing into their nachos, ice cream, of course.

And the main man at Hudco To Go, Ben Jung, is no stranger to such contests, or unusual orchestrations of them. He on a hunch entered one at Cracker Barrel Winery for BBQ and other such things, by dropping in his dish with bombay curry — and he took second place.

Then mid-day on May 18 there is a meaty pork butt contest for BBQ, arranged by Dick’s Bar and Grill, where Jung plans to produce sauerbraten, complete with ginger snacks and raisins and cooked overnight. The proceeds go to Gregory’s Gift of Hope Animal Shelter.

But for the nachos batalla, the other competitors are:

Bennett’s Chop & Railhouse – Hudson

Black Rooster Bistro

Bricks Neapolitan Pizza

Buffalo Wild Wings

Dick’s Bar and Grill

Dipsy Ice Cream Shoppe

Hudco To-Go LLC

Milwaukee Burger Company

Post – American Eatery

San Pedro Café.

San Pedro is officially the nachos contest restaurant sponsor.

— May Day. Bunnies, kittens and puppies. Exotic kinds of at least the first two can be found hawked in downtown Hudson on a storefront window or two, and if you aim for the third, it’s likely coming to a local venue soon. Hop(scotch)-eared bunnies are/were offered on the wall, even before Easter, and Himalayan kittens too. Ask the people at Mickelsen Drug and they may now dredge up the paper flyers from under the counter, for contact info. With May Day here, and with talk being heard about cougars soon being able to breed in parts not far from Hudson, cute kittens may also be born but then again may be a third strike if you actually want to own them. Especially as a Mother’s Day gift. It’s not legal mom. (But do you see that doggie in the window. All these cute critters have waggly tails, some bigger than others. Doggie gone.)

Would you spend a buck to save a quarter? Or get a nickel back?

If you are the government, pick a branch of it … no quarter. Just a twig. Even back in the day, not enough to go hear Dimebag, or thus indulge. But if you save up for the length it takes to produce several albums, you might be able to cop a Colt. But not go whole hog and get the whole horse. Dog and Pony show. After all, in a little known fact buried by politics, that pesky Farm Bill used to cost us more than all those welfare moms combined. Today’s ratio? Stay tuned … 

If the government truly wants to go after cutting wasteful spending, they could start with the fear of fraud with programs that benefit low-income and other disadvantaged people. These perceived potential dodgings and minor fluctuations in earnings, and in particular the money that is thrown at enforcing such alleged rule-breaking, should be Musk intent. Go after what really matters to peoples’ lives, such as those on the margin, and makes a difference, not political scapegoats and its created enemies. Since after all, your priorities are forged by who you help first. The last shall not be first, even eventually. Trickle down in its various political-football forms may have salvaged a drop, but not much more.

So here is a breakdown, given as one example of many we should truly fix. Might save enough to actually build a wall. All the way to Phoenix? More likely, DOGE = DOG. A demonic heavy metal band did much the same when flipping upper-case digits.

The people on the benefit programs are many, and adjustments made even after a lot of scrutiny for cutting are often barely in double-digit dollars. All this keeping of a labor force — hope manufacturing jobs come back as forecast, but you don’t have to be a weatherman to see which way the wind blows — in the name of actually saving the government money and reducing the budget and deficit and national debt.

When you are on a program such as Social Security Disability, lots of work hours — not to mention the reams of paper mailings this needs to generate — are spent tracking the scant income that such people manage. The rate of their benefit may then be adjusted slightly.

— Wages that are reported by beneficiaries of several programs will be cross-checked by computer against the wages employers report to the Department of Workforce Development to make sure they’ve not been crossed. Also asked may be the IRS, SSA, Unemployment Insurance Division and DOT. All that legwork to pay low-income people a handful of less bucks. —

However, I find it hard to believe that the few bucks that are saved justify the expense in labor and equipment and offices devoted to evaluate any changes in income. People in the programs and getting their benefits are not allowed to make more than $200 in employment income in a particular month without being penalized with a benefit reduction. Self-reporting is required following even certain minor changes, adding to paperwork, as their workers rank and sometimes adjust gross income, counted income and counted income limits, all the way down to the cent.

Say your ship comes in and you take in $210. After all is done being scrutinized, paperwork sent to recipients and then filled out and any kind of further review done, and more forms needing completion, the government, for its trouble, may end up getting back a few bucks off the overall benefit rate paid for a month or a few. (I’m no economist, but this overall amount of money saved by the taxpayer is probably less than for a quarter-pounder, (we’re not in the UK), and more like a few (French) fries or francs or a frankfurter.) Does anyone involved with this get franking privileges for postage? Even if they catch a few cheaters, they’d better get the most out of them possible with the fine of up to a quarter-million-dollars, but I doubt there is usually the full price and it might be tough to collect from poor people. Not everyone looked into is like Brett Favre.

If the feds are coming out in any way on their investment of labor, that must be a pretty damn low hourly rate. Minimum suddenly doesn’t look so bad. Wouldn’t it be easier and even cheaper to just let the poor guy keep his extra ten bucks and not have the government be able to recoup that, and not much more? And by the way, if one of the four or five main forms of benefits (described additionally below and largely tied to each other) goes up for a client, most of it is taken away from another category they receive. So the federal coffers end up getting a shitted nickel, after all the shit various people go through to get to that end.

On my end of things, there are three agencies for income reporting that can have overlapping duties, although they do take care of tasks in other areas. Some additional consolidation would seem in order. 

There exists the main federal Social Security Administration, a regional consortium that is (usually) your first point-of-contact for reporting, and the economic support department at the county human services level, to which you might get steered anyway.

— Now I do realize that there needs to be the threat of what is essentially a small-scale audit to keep people from taking unfair advantage. You could apply the same assessment scenario to the IRS or interstate weigh stations for trucks. But maybe make the worker time spent a quick whip-through of the information and less frequently done. —

The average time even spent on the phone with a representative taking what should be just basic information, even in an annual review required even if the agency finds there is no change in income, can take close to a half-hour.

It seems any time you call in to report something like that proverbial $210 or more, you also get sent a full self employment document of about three pages to write up. A complete breakdown of expenses and receipts is required. The rub: When received by the government, all this takes time to review and assess, and all the people regularly doing the reviewing need to be paid.

The main way the benefit-rate-change scenario plays out is with EBT food stamps, or with rent rates. Sometimes too Medicaid, which in some categories is used by around half of individuals, (and if you are in Wisconsin, BadgerCarePlus for medical), and I cannot vouch for daycare, but I can guess. After all that evaluation, they often only change the outlay a few dollars, often amounting to less than 10 percent of the total. I know someone who had all this mailing done back and forth for a change in food stamps, that total being in the $150-range, of about eight dollars.

Wages that are reported will be checked by computer against the wages your employer reports to the Department of Workforce Development. Also asked may be the IRS, SSA, Unemployment Insurance Division and DOT.

Now I do realize that there needs to be the threat of what is essentially a small-scale audit to keep people from taking unfair advantage. You could apply the same assessment scenario to the IRS or interstate weigh stations for trucks. But maybe make the processing worker time spent more of a quick whip-through of the information and less frequently done, say if that $210-income a month referenced above hits three straight times, just require a quarterly beneficiary call-in. This way the feds save too.

Protesters are not pining away about Pope Francis being buried in basically a small pine box to top off a low-key affair, led on-key by the 20-member Sistine Chapel Choir, so the pontiff’s passing backed by an orchestra, prior to interment in a simple plot with a one-word notation, “Francis,” in a cemetery not used since the 19th century. That’s six words less than the mere seven marked on the tombstone of singing legend Ronnie James Dio, who grew up Catholic and despite a small spate of differences with their personal theology, the short metalhead had inscribed a song title with which I’m sure the pope would like, not a tall order for these two men who both loved music (more on that below) including the operatic. Dio was Italian, and Francis of course lived for many years in Italy.

This is in very sharp contrast to the military parade that according to published reports is only rising in price, to glorify President Trump, not God by being his servant, on his 79th birthday June 14, and to cost more than a million for each one of his years, starting at $90-times-one-million, then going up to $93M, (like our local radio station 93X?) and now set at $100,000,000. The newly planted (I debated about using that word but His Holiness sure had a sense of humor) pope would surely roll over in his grave, although reportedly it appears that unlike entombed Beethoven — whom he enjoyed —  the pope has more than one coffin. Can’t confirm that though, since I didn’t get an invite to the funeral. I have met someone, in downtown Hudson, whose brother got invited to Dio’s back in 2010. Eulogies unveiled years later.

— So now we are a week later, and I get a free Catholic publication in the mail, of which I am familiar with their tight and early production schedule, and I had been wondering how they would deal with the pope’s death, as it happened just as they went to the printing press. It had an article quoting Francis a couple of days after he had been buried.

He must have a press secretary, for press releases, who is clairvoyant. Or he too was speaking from the grave, (like someone else whose death we recognized just over a week ago. But wait, He has since risen and is back, penning sermons, at his Old School typewriter no doubt, so scratch that.) One last joke, and am sure the pope and prince of peace won’t mind: For you Catholic geeks, you know the meaning of the much-talked-about speaking ex cathedra, a popely declaration made only under “grave” conditions of faith and morals — while on the Chair of Peter, so was that buried with him? — and pontiffs have only dared to use it twice, that’s about once a millennium, so this means they must be damn (sorry) sure of its viability. So if there ever was a time to go three, hey, if you can pull it off by speaking while entombed … There are death metal bands who would kill for that opp. The latest pope infallable in all but death? —

But these were humbler men, and in some ways simpler times than today’s slash and burn, although trial by cleansing fire is a frequent though ying/yang and (one of Dio’s songs) the heaven/hell theme. The two men adocated again, being humble not haughty, going beyond mere metaphor, but still found in their song and speech. The Trump tab, I’m sure not paid by him at least directly, does not even include many millions for added security, like the inauguration, and the proposal for a much similar parade about eight years ago that was cancelled in the long run. By contrast, no one is expected to shoot at the funeral procession of an already dead man, though one of God, so give them back their bullets, the theory of this all being that those 250,000 attendees had little to fear — unlike anything where a by-and-large unholy politician who is indeed a politician shows up, waving from a float (or larger than life tank or other carrier) rather than a balcony.

For the funeral for Francis, it was like getting into a trendy LA or NYC club, hard to do unless you are a dignitary. Everyone was supposed to be Men In Black, but Trump defied them with that dark navy same suit, blue on black. Jill Biden, back four rows, stole the show with her choice of attire, a not so little black dress that included spike heels. Melania Trump, also, done ditched the dress and came in an outfit with a double-breasted blazer prominent. She had left our native soil for the Vatican in flats, with hat added.

There was the presence of stardom too, if only through the power of the written note. It came in the form of Whoopi Goldberg, Patti Smith (who penned a poem for him referencing a lovely dandelion) and Gloria Estefan and other Latin artists, Jimmy Fallon who was criticized when having an actual audience with the pontiff, by making it too much about himself, (but hey aren’t you supposed to insert people’s stories and experiences such as even your own into homilies), and the list of musicians who had actually met Francis included those you might expect, plus a more wide-ranging in style group featuring the likes of Sting, Bono and even Katy Perry, known for racy outfits and lyrics but still widely regarded to be a Christian. (There was also the filmmaker documenting Christ in Martin Scoresese, he of intellectual roles Russell Crowe and lesser so Eva Longoria.)

Perry had recently gotten back from a spaceship where she flew above the earth with four other women luminaries, dubbed Blue Origin, gathered space dust and baked it into cookies, picked up and polished the orbiting space junk, ironed astronaut spacesuits, cleaned and fixed up everything that need be out there in space, and still had time to run various tests and pose together with a space selfie, (OK I made up all the tasks but the last part.) Some nerdy space scientists had originally planned to send the really cool Blue Man Group in their stead, but they … faded.

Perry generally is the author of a number redone by the choir at the St. Paul Cathedral during a recent concert. They had also been asked to be backup singers at her concert in the city. The conductor at the church was surprised to hear that Perry, by most sources, is considered Christian. By comparison, most everything at the funeral of Francis was Old School Classical, if that is a term, and is used as much as a requiem, although the pontiff reportedly also had an ear for Italian classical-pop. Performances for him at a Christmas concert in 2019 helped cross that musical bridge, from a Got Talent sensation, then Lionel Richie, Bonnie Tyler and Susan Boyle. The pope’s personal fave is not surprisingly Mozart, with a song that he says “lifts you to God,” and the rest of that storyline is also eclectic.

At the funeral itself, there were no rockers of record, and even the tributes have been slim. That is not unusual because though many secular musicians share the same ideals and even religion, they typically keep it to themselves except for well-chosen lines in their songs, or just short phrases sprinkled in, and even in interviews don’t like to be pigeonholed by their faith. (Although they are aware that they analyze that of public figures and philosophies, and recognize the irony.)

Dio, referenced earlier, is one of few who had occasionally spoken about it. On his tombstone, like the one word “Francis,” is just one phrase, “I’m The Man On The Silver Mountain.” This is from his early work with Rainbow, a song that refers to, I think, the men who were transfigured with Christ and did not want to leave and return to their earthly homes, but instead remain in joy on the sacred higher ground. Like a few other of Dio’s songs, he said, there is reference to a “Christ-like figure.”

You could do worse than to argue that Francis and Dio are both men on the silver mountain.

When you add to your Easter eating, and collect all the condiments, at all kinds of places like Cracker Barrel, it can be a chunk for charity. If only in my dreams.

In post-Easter slumber, and not the kind that comes after your big dinner, but after midnight following the Minnesota Wild first postseason game out in that other city that never sleeps, Las Vegas, I envisioned that those eateries were taking any of those little bags of ketchup and mustard and such that you could save and then donate, and give the savings to a cause. I may have been wrong, but in the dream we family-style restaurant hopped (I-Hop on Easter?) all around the southwest portion of Milwaukee, and I would stay well behind gathering up the lost under the table samples, in the name of cashing in and feeding the hungry. This put me in dream conflict, one by one, with just about every family member, mainly my nieces, envisioned front and center in front of me. The family dog even bolted across the front of the car hood — to gather scraps?

I did in my route around the restaurants encounter a group of tall kids fighting with a smaller one, and saved him from being beaten, or at least roasted with boasting. Like a small bunny surrounded by bigger rabbits.

— San Pedro in downtown Hudson has kept the spring-break-timed party going for most of this week with a special Caribbean-and-other-island themed observance, culminating Saturday afternoon with a steel drum band, The Pan Handlers. Do the drummers cook too, maybe with drumsticks? —

That could echo the meeting of the late Pope Francis, who unfortunately died Monday morning, with vice president JD Vance, who even though a Catholic must have felt like a witch at church when they met at The Vatican. (Since Vance’s boss, the president, has also come into conflict several times with the late pontiff over policy for the poor.) Apparently the pope couldn’t quite stomach the session. And after the smoke clears, literally, will the next pope even meet with the sinful likes of Vance? Or decline in advance.

Also back closer to home, a coffee maker has said they will have to hike the price for a 12-ounce bag by two bucks, citing the effects of Trump’s tariff policies. So if you needed some caffeine right before sunrise church service, or after the followup dinner …

Across the pond in Belgium, held was a hunt based not on beans but for bottles of beer, by hoards of this-time adults (we assume) and when taking into account differences in time zones, they should have been in church. A total of 10K of the bottles not cans were waiting to be discovered under bushes, in the forks or trees, or right out on the lawn. All this was big enough news to garner a half-minute on a station in Milwaukee.

In this time not an Easter hunt, but a bunch of children like small wooden bobbleheads who were displayed not on a playground, but in a makeshift courtroom in kiddie court for immigration, where they are being tried without adult legal representation even as young as three This was given to them so they could have something to play with, like maybe their parents with small wooden structures, while in actual proceedings were facing essentially, life without parole. A plan to produce another board-game-type playground, this time depicted them in a juvenile jail cell, was scuttled.

Price of ham will cost you the farm. So to save some dough, with 4-20 being the same (green) day as Easter, get some weed or other such celebration day accessories from the aptly named Green Elevator Cannabis company. As in repeating myself here, would we do that, being 4-20, we’re offering you 20 percent off. Beyond just the day.

Green Elevator Cannabis produces fresh, organic gummies from local farmers in Minnesota. Now that’s buying local. And to have the relatives to dinner beyond Easter, indulge in one of their Mary Jane cannabis parties. You get a chance to sample beverages and learn at the same time. Let’s see the library do all that. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

But from here, we’ll let them tell it. “Green Elevator Cannabis is passionate about removing barriers and reducing stigma through education and safe selling. We have a liquid to lips and gummy to tummy approach in selecting products. We know they are good, it’s up to you to decide if you like them. We want to give our customers soft, fresh and delicious cannabis gummies. Most of all, we want to expand people’s expectations and prove that our gummies will take you where you want to go.” And while we’re on the topic of snacking, you can get lemon cake, mini donut and malt and fries versions, too. And for my two cents worth, their beverages taste great, much better than most of the type that are offered.

The coupon code to receive 20 % off your entire order through the end of April, using this direct link to auto-apply, shown after the blah, blah,

https://green-elevator-cannabis.square.site?cc=LVTR4HUDSON20

— Some of the comedy shows are mocking the move to allow some companies to buy white house Easter egg hunt space, as an endorsement where for pay you get your product promoted while you fund an activity named for you, plus many thousand extra. Does Tesla get a freebie … this hunt is being held on Monday as they apparently need more time in order to get eggs, as in an effort to later buy back their freedom from being eggsentially sex slaves to the breakfast industry, the hens have unionized to leverage their plan to buy back their expensive eggs and resell them at a profit, the American way so not subject to tariff. It’s called reverse egging. Like a reverse mortgage. So Trump is not the only one profiting off Easter in a very eggcellant way. —

Now more about this weekend.

The man who was to be king. Oh wait, that title was newly taken, a time ago, by a man named Charles (we won’t call him Chuck, that would be too grounded.) See below. For April 19 is the official, sorta, no king’s protest day. In the USA not the UK. Likely to be attended by ten times London’s population total. We don’t want any, or even one royalty member. Even though the claim has been staken. Or by JD taken. April 18 in 1775 was the day that in the old north church in Boston, that dependent on the number of lanterns rather than liberals lighted, the foes would be coming one if by land, two if by sea, three if by air, four if by space … or at least that’s the new insert to our US history books advocated to be mandated by RFK Jr. Oh wait, he’s the secretary of a different department. Mom said bring in the spirit of 1776. After 1775. So twice the years. Like twice the kings. In short order.

Now more on (moron?) space. It put them in seventh heaven. That’s the number, roughly, if using their version of accuracy, of mistakes and blatant errors and other just plain blunders in basic logic, in a despicable list of student deportation must-dos designed by a very radical conservative think tank. (Again, Trump invoked, do we see a pattern here? On more than one front.) Some are not even living in the USA, so what’s the problem? Oh but living on the eighth continent, beyond the south pole, so … But wait, he’s actually alive and well, despite it all. Trampled by penguins.

Alive and well, and swell. This is what the el Salvador president said about the deported who has miraculously risen, in quotes, from the prison and death and torture, again in sarcastic quotes with punctuation corrected, despite having alleged margaritas with the US envoy he was finally allowed to see about his “rising” status. A bit of booze, rum is a bit more potent than brandy, can be deemed as acceptable if you’ve come from such a camp. About one drink each, a photo on the news showed, and even than it was said to be planted. I realize it could be a double. But they said they did not smudge it at all on their lips, although maybe smirk. This is the new version of, I did not inhale. I trust this newest one more.

In a different department, 20 million Americans and more no longer get their HIV meds, as a result of Trump’s order. Would he reverse that, if the need was on say, the other stormy foot? As we know Trump keeps his friends close. Anyway there were hundreds of protest coffins posted right around Good Friday.

That said, a local church was changing it up, having because of timing to waive their typical weekly family dinner, and also having to push the annual Easter egg hunt back to the 27th. Unless the price of a dozen of the orbs goes above a Benjamin.

With Easter, here is the view from the room of the day. Off in the outside midst, looking into the woods, of briars and brambles, bushes and buckthorn, like the wood of the Old Rugged Cross, were some wildly I’m assuming growing daffodil-type things, both bright and mellow yellow.

Jesus Christ got on His ass, the four-legged kind, in a thus unassuming way at the first Palm Sunday but according to Christians soon saved the world, and in doing so got on many people. Edonald got off His ass and hit the golf course, then His own $90 million military birthday parade. Jesus was the guest of honor in front of 12 other guests at a meager Last Supper — fittingly with the name of the holiday that is coming also the title of a Black Sabbath farewell tour, and I think it featured Children of the Grave, in song and otherwise. Now, Donald is the guest of honor at a feast of the military industrial complex that will cost that $90K, or wait $90M, in the name of saving the world, by slicing what was keeping it turning.

Jesus was as humble as you might say Humble Pie, (more on that in a bit), when his disciples asked for the ass on which their Master (of Reality to reference the classic Sabbath album) would ride into gloomy glory, to borrow the small donkey and by thus unleashing it, unleashing love, not a Trojan Horse by which to march. He was greeted by people placing down their cloaks onto the street in front of him, not by mass protests from the impoverished masses whose social programs are at risk. That donkey was all this Master needed, not thousands of steeds to ride in on. And those asses are not Democrats.

This is not the only parallel to Palm Sunday, which begets Maundy Thursday, which begets Good Friday, which begets Easter, and also deals with the salvation theology of the Passover, quite absent these days in Israel (and Palestine) and even the USA (and thus Canada and Mexico.)

The crimes of which Jesus was accused, none of them capital like current administrative figures, included encouraging opposition to paying taxes, and compare that to baseless criticisms of social security fraud, which has been found to be accurate in 99 percent of cases or more, and even if true would only involve a relative pittance of money. These are like claims made against Jesus by the Pharisees, trying to dredge up anything that might stick if hitting the wall, and sticking it has not.

Barabbas, let go without due process in a different way than thousands of government workers, and for that matter many more thousands of immigrants, also was cited for inciting insurrection, instead of today other insurgents, such as soon to be if there is justice our current president.

Once mortal enemies, Pontius Pilate and King Herod even broke bread and became friends, according to Scripture, over the after-conviction blood shed from the body of Jesus. That rather than the capital gains for those conspiring in such a way in the cabinet from such weeping today, from the backs of others enslaved, all the time infighting amongst themselves and striving for rank, and that was perhaps the only manner in which they were like Christ’s disciples, at least on occasion for the 12. (Half of that amount, so six, were the number cut by Musk in one of his first department head purges.) Pilate had passed the buck more than once in not defending Jesus, washing his hands of such decisions like those in so many in our modern-day courts.

What does this have to do with Humble Pie, the band and the description? I am noting, as I indeed have noted before, that these days the narrative is constantly evolving, for good or bad, and hopefully gaining more clarity as time marches on. My own thought on these matters is altered daily, or more than once a day, sometimes wafting back and forth about things like tariffs and taxation and the toll they can take. Hope it all comes around in the end.

So much is happening so fast these days, by the time it becomes news it is no longer news. That’s probably not news to you. As is not that before one trade war even takes to the battlefield, another one or two begins. Like the world wars were. Tariff’s go down, we’re up, when they go up, we’re down.

Talking to, say, three or four different people at as many different venues, in the quagmire course of a similar number of hours, can change your whole perspective — until what they told you switches up again because of need and gained knowledge.

So, what I am about to say, going to the past to some past columns, is not to eat crow as much as it is to count the crows in differing and ever-changing ways.

— But first, what are your top Tariff Adjusting Ramifications (TAR). Here are mine. Barbie’s still come out of China? Often touted. But now far from top-grade. Not like models. With big feet and thick legs, and busts that are small without being at all perky. Wearing only that one dress that still cuts muster, so forget dressing and redressing her. And they are not coming surrounded by a beach setting, but maybe a coffin? Morbid, but as we merge in a taste of the American, which is required these days, some slasher Hollywood?

Then, heard on that marketplace of ideas that is the Internet, that the 25 percent tariff imposed by Canada includes that one mega-highway that connects the continental USA and Alaska — through THEIR country. So everything from food to meds arriving by truck that Alaskans need becomes out of reach, since I don’t think the annual salary up in them thar woods is that high. How to make it work? Cut a deal with a Mountie? But wait their motto is to defend what’s right. Not left. Ouch! But now invoke their sub-motto, every Mountie gets their man, to bring in some Hollywood fictionalized fact. So you know they are going to find a way to find you, and seal the deal, but it might take longer because they can’t so much anymore get better horses from all those Hoidy Toidy farms in The States.

And I’m not even going to mention that highway running south from The Border, in a reversal, of fortune, through Mexico. —

Start with man No. 1, who had a lot to say on a lot of different topics related to Our Times, as he topped off a tap in a tavern. Ten minutes into our conversation, he said a few things that really hit home. As far as territory. And yes we are talking all about tariffs, which didn’t concern him as much as certain other things, and that’s where I would have considered taking issue with him. Until I heard what he had to say, as he runs his own business out of a Prescott-operated store, a smallish town, and was touting the ways where you need to look after the local community, not as much the global community and how to deal with it, isolationism aside. It has been said, and rightly so, that if the ways we are essentially taxing the goods that come into our country adds local jobs and as such brings local growth, great. And I have an issue with hardcore, my way or the highway negotiating tactics, but they seem to be working to bring people from other countries to the table to talk, and the price of groceries on our tables has not yet taken off. Seems you don’t really need to buy that suddenly pricy avocado and make guacamole, opt for locally-sourced and dairy-based sour cream instead and add some cheese to your Mexican food too, and make it cheddar. There definitely have been trade balance inequities with some of those countries — so much to say on that — but for now just add that it’s amazing it took so long for it to garner attention. Maybe pay less attention to the taste and its nature of your garnish, and more where it comes from.  

But back to man No. 1 and his business, and others like, or unlike it. He noted that some of the cheap-price Big Box stores in his neighborhood don’t do much for local causes, where local places of business do, and even remarked that those across the state line in Hastings are even more culprits. Moreover, he has had trouble getting employees for his shop, and I’m not sure which side of the coin he was on involving this, but he noted that he would be willing to pay $20 an hour and at the same time help someone learn a trade, where basic clerking will get you $17 and they have a relatively abundant supply of labor. He tied in the need, and ability to make it available and affordable, to go to something like a tech school and acquire needed know-how for ongoing success more quickly. The degree of loyalty to clients extended to his willingness to travel more than an hour to do a job, and build a network of … clients. He then left some of his beer behind and went to the bathroom, then left the building.

Next, man No. 2 had a far different take, a reversal of the previous guarded acclaim for the direction things are going. The stock market volatility is a problem for people whose pensions depend on it, but I agree with him that if you have enough money to simply play the market, you should maybe just get a day job. So neither one of us were extending a lot of sympathy for such people if wealthy who live or die, and it seems like a stressful hobby, if that’s what it is, on every buck more or less they make … and take all the time to watch it that carefully. He has a pension account that went crazily up and down at times, but never took much stock of the matter, although he did lament the lack of high-paying wages in his salary history, so he has a cheap beer wallet, unlike the rates made by some workers. He moved parts around in a warehouse for less than $20 an hour, so as far as pity for those who now get $45 … The problem as a commonality with society, we agreed, is greed.

Now to No. 3. There was an old man sitting next to me, left side, making love to the tonic and beer he would eventually knock over. He was wearing a Menards shirt and a stocking hat and sunglasses and said to a much younger man, I don’t want to give you advice but …

Then he came up with those words of wisdom. He told him. Make money when you’re young. Save it for when you’re old.

Right side was more of a bar conversation, swinging from carbon fibers, to bats in the barfly belfry, and mice in the cupboard too, that are more scared of you. But a very real working class camaraderie. And a last take: “I am not as scared of that … as I am of tariffs.” He soon would go back to the sacred, ordering another beer. 

But I will end with a quick set up quips that were the most real of the bunch.

Two harried workers met at the counter, right next to the cash register, and the server posed a question about what a customer wanted, a really cool form of cole slaw with a funny name. I of course chimed in. Little slices of carrots, (push the limit with their size, to use them up?) A bit of both types of cabbage. I told her she had it sacked, as in a need to make every bunch of broccoli count, to save money in this economy and world. (Even something very small diced from your batch of tomatoes, if tariffs allow?)

Then the kicker: The sauce is what makes it all work, if their kitchen. And mine too. It should be the sweet and sour kind, and we again, concurred, with just a bit more sour than the other flavor. So think 60/40. But not 70/30. Unless there are those few drops left.

Now in our wonderful life, that’s a real world conversation..

I hope this long list doesn’t sound too fishy, with a multi-faceted news flash into what could be your activities, but it seems that these days when it goes to feeding your indulgence, Lent to close, into walleye and also wine and maybe whiskey, the place to go if you’re a local business owner is your annual dish-deciding trip to Canada, many a hundred miles to its streams and lakes. You know, Ontario and others, even now become tariff territory, but salmon seeking surmounted, you have options back here in The States. Local and around The Cities.

Now that they have returned home, some still supply a lingering example of spring, as now materializing among the many, Green Mill is back with their March-led foray into walleye and related fish dishes, and many have a somewhat-common tangy but dark-tinged sauce in common, above tartar. The way they use it all fits them to a T, several appetizers and entrees and sandwiches alike, first letter invoked. Check out their Hudson or other location, sit around the circle and also cite multiple Minnesota award-winning pizza, and see how quick a look it takes for you to tell what the sauce is. OK, bang bang or cajun, tap tempura. The walleye fest beckons, even when blackened, with several options, listed on their sign. This is beyond fish and chips, at one of my favorite haunts. And you may also win a fly-out fishing trip to a lodge in, as stated, Ontario, with KaBeeLo.

Take this one step, or door down further. With a seemingly isolated (another one) ingredient that keeps popping up across the road. Down that proverbial Buffalo trail. At those Wild Wings is to be found over and again the killer hatch queso attached that made the Young Guns take arm or aim. Maybe even in the red-hot blazin’ scale of semi-scalding sauces that includes in its heat range a BBQ ranch, very low on the totem pole as in second from the last, (but then there is a restart of the red-hot to cool ranch type colors that occurs with the five dry rubs, not the 20 or so signature sauces.)

Segue to Mad City and its Firehouse franchise that is set to sub next to the Tropical Smoothies Cafe, (a cool if not red-hot combo of things), right in the heart of the college part of town. And not college, but K of C if you’re Catholic, their fish fry also held beer and wine for sale, just for a $10 fee to the city treasurer, on what was called 3-21-25 all through the way to 3-21-25, note that’s the same day, so I’m guessing just one day is what we’re talking. (Like maybe, my stated as 30-day Xanax prescription that said start one day through only that same day for use, so that sounds like a party, if you can stay awake.) At the church a few counties away, being held after three earlier tries is their brew fest contest — together with fish tacos for Lent, and a theme here? — where you can vote for the best beer, and you can even BYOB of brew for people to partake in, although not eligible for the contest. So it’s OK to haul in some watered down Bud or Busch, no one will judge you.

— This is one spring activity, running for about two years, that has been changed up. Now called The Believers Church, they are still ordering appetizers through Juniors grill and bar in River Falls, but have found a site for them to construct an actual building, after having held late in the afternoon each Saturday at Juniors spacious venue at least the start of yes, a church service, according to a representative of Juniors. Beginning at 4:30 p.m. were snacks followed by the service itself. This was seen by the church as a way to increase the size of its flock, through an alternative setting that will appeal more to non-typical types of church-goers.

We have no word on the nature of their theology, or if they are aligned with a recognizable denomination. —

Speaking of this, and recalling a week decades ago that was involved in the countryside and a state park near Golden just outside of Denver with a papal visit, when he was well, and World Youth Day, we move to Colorado as far as trip location. Rapid-fire to 2025, the spring elections clerk joined myself and many others I’ve seen in Hudson sporting a sweatshirt touting with the temps bouncing around the Bulldogs — the university that thus is by far the most prevalent in these parts, behind of course the local Badgers and Gophers, (forget Hawkeyes of Iowa, though other college teams have stepped forward in the postseason), wearers who just might rip up your sweatshirt long sleeves and turn them into, well, springtime short sleeves. Many of those, too, have been seen lately around town as temperatures move up out of the 30s range, but soon to revert back.

As has been Waldo, as in my involuntary take. I have that telltale T-shirt — maybe you do too — a couple of years ago pulled out of my closet, that gets many remarks every time I don’t pay attention and put it on. “There he is. I found Waldo!” I am getting a little more self-conscious each time I encounter such people downtown, although I will have to admit some of their comedic bits are entertaining. (Moreso than the soft spring hues, much the same color as the stripes I wore, on a short-dressed model on the way-down-south-shot TV commercial.) But back to those quips I still get on occasion: It goes on and on and on. It’s heaven and hell. 

Ever watch golf on TV? Maybe before March Madness arrives? When you gaze these days, you see trees up and down the fairways that are already greened out, and look like that was not just the other day. We locally have only recently seen the beginning of budding, although moss grows green on decorative stones in our downtown. And with the March toward basketball, two local nightspots, tap the Hudson Tap and the Smilin’ Moose, which have similarities in ownership, started their specials for these games on The 18th, a Tuesday. One said they ended on the 31st. But we have only recently seen the beginning of The Final Four for men. Meanwhile, the U Conn women’s team set a record with its 12th title.

The newest series of commercials running on my freebie TV is of Maggie, the made-to-be-cool, red-haired woman who wants it all, Cosmo style and wonderful when she admonishes her bad dog. But what steals the show, so to speak, is the tall and lanky delivery guy who gives the most charismatic little wave you can imagine. Looks like a blue-collar guy I know with similar physique and hair. And Maggie appears to be a single woman, but just who is the guy who looks bored and is shown pushing the little girl, who also is a star, on the swingset. Is he a significant other? Or just some random and still nice but narrow attention spanned guy on the playground.

That’s it for this spate on what’s been going on in your neighborhood and on TV.