So now climate change has sacked The NFL. The raging fires around L.A. are no joke, but have done what even all the bad press could not — kicked the butt of the area’s entertainment industry in the form of nearly cancelling a pro football playoff game.

The Phoenix Cardinals were charitable enough to step in and volunteer their stadium and to host the game that allowed the Rams from even further west, to come out of the gates strong and never look back to handily defeat the favored Minnesota Vikings. In the end, wild fires could not quench the wild card game. In fact, they put it on the Monday Night Football main stage.

Following fall flooding, we have fires blazing, so this instead of a game played where temperatures, in preseason, reach around 125 degrees. That’s Fahrenheit, if anyone’s counting. Say hey, they could have played the contest in the Twin Cities, their Lambeau even if Lambs by comparison, where at the time the balmy temps were below zero.

Or move the game to some odd stadium in northern California, where the winds would have been high enough to derail an air game where even as it was, no team reached near 300 passing yards. The same winds cruised down south and gave wings to Boeings or such, enabling the Cardinals to reportedly fly in two plane loads of ticket holders from California so they wouldn’t have to miss the one-sided contest. The other 99 percent or so had to watch only if they could get access to a TV. Direct or so. (It still might have been too hot to drive.) Still, one has to give chops to the Cards for trying, and doing as much as they did.

The NFL went all out to give the Rams, which although have a poorer season record, were the home team (oops would have been), by virtue of having won their division, a “we’re hosting” feel. You know, like the Grammys or Oscars. There even was a great big Ram head and horns — we don’t know if Dodge trucks were a game sponsor — painted at the 50 yard line, spreading out to about the 45s on each side. Even Rams, whether players or animals, have been known to have forsaken the surrounding desert in summer for some AC — like in the luxury suites? 

Or, how about facing off at Fenway, where if you’d do the Lambeau Leap it might be into The Green Monster of a wall. Then if the opposition scored, in the next quarter when the teams changed ends …

And this winter especially, you’d face that same Lambeau cold on the home fields if many were hosted in the northeastern Cities … And in a Florida football stadium, the roof blew off … And remember just what Hurricane Katrina almost did to the Super Bowl? … This almost makes playing in London, again, look like a good idea.

The Viking fans, like most every year, got their walking papers way too early. I should have seen it coming. My bartender friend, you know the one that looks like she just stepped off the beaches of Rio, had asked me every single time I’ve been in this winter, and maybe a bit before, if I’d seen the big scrimmage, as it always seemed to be on a game day. I always said, uh gee, I dunno, can you fill me in? I just heard it was high scoring. In actuality, I usually wasn’t even sure whether she was talking about the Packer or Viking skirmish …

And even though she was typically wearing a Minnesota Wild T-shirt, you know the pro hockey team that plays in St. Paul, for you Out Easters, said add, “OK kiddo, just sit down and have a cold one and I’ll give you the lowdown.” Much like John at the bar in Billy Joel’s Piano Man.

There are now even more new reasons, under the sun, to set off to The Subhouse, it being located on the sunny side of the St. Croix River in the midst of Hudson’s downtown.

The decades-long shop on the west side of the main drag, now under new ownership by a veteran restaurantier couple, sports dozens of unusually substantive sandwich and wraps choices, hot or cold, that fill to the brim its even though chalkboard-size menu/sandwich board — and even more of their other food and drink types.

Their sandwich of the month special, The Resolution Buster, shows that typical creativity and sophistication’s that in many, their main vegetable and pair of sauce ingredients each have two distinct components, but is still low in cost. Not to mention the roast beef and au jus, they for example have this warm onion and green pepper, chipotle in combo with such as mayo, and added in is another double-your-fun two-ingredient topping, beer cheese sauce, just for starters.

Many of the main menu items have up to a Lucky 13 number of meats, seafood, cheeses, fresh breads, wraps, veggies, greens, sauces, and only the most flavorful seasonings and oils.

You’ve seen other specials, on the month usually, posted on this site and a sidewalk sign in the past, with interesting names, such as a Riverbender, a summer riverside staple that also features several primary ingredients.

Several soups and sides, salads and salad subs, chips and desserts, also are presented. You’re able to munch on a great big pickle along with the sliced pickles in some of their subs, so sandwiches great with snack. This isn’t your typical sandwich shop.

Meats get as zesty as smoked maple-glazed turkey, and the Italian Triple Zest features three meat varieties. There are also vegetarian kinds, and of course gluten free. Virtually all subs are for under $10.

Box lunches also are offered at the Subhouse, great for those going to places like area sporting events, enough to feed the whole team, kid’s meals too, and also platters and fully catered meals. There is also eat-in on tables, out on street-flanking benches, or delivery, takeout and other options.

Find them next to Season’s Gallery, at 407 Second St. on the near south end. Phone is (715) 381-9999.

As many as 13 main ingredients, many scrumptious meats creatively teamed with a whole host of edible accessories, are a staple in the dozens of sandwiches at the Sub House, a perfect and substantive fit as a way to fit in lunch or dinner. With your hunger humbled, you can go longer if antiquing, boutiquing or otherwise shopping, listening to various forms of music at local clubs, just checking out the charms of a local hometown bar, or even coming home for work or working late. Summertime brings a host of other ways the Subhouse can help you.

— In other divergent news, this is blues, but not the summertime version. Jimmy Carter reached triple digits, but quadruple is accomplished by no man, save maybe one. Now that Carter has passed, in a trip between New Richmond and Hudson in this red county, I saw a flag on a full-fledged pole — one and only one — at halfmast. There still are a scant few other Trump campaign signs up in right-of-ways, even though legally they had to be taken down earlier last year. On the big, now-bare-upon-razing full block in the downtown of Hudson, the garish adjoining Trump signs on sticks were soon removed, as were the two flanking ones on opposite sides of a glass door in a construction store. —

A recent 15-year-old female shooter attended a private K-12 school that was staunchly Bible based and Christ-centered in all its instruction areas regardless of topic, and emphasized discipline and order.

It also had some music courses in the typical areas, although the degree of exposure to styles is uncertain, an online analysis reveals, but the deadly shooter appeared to have gotten some of her education in other places, as she had worn a T-shirt of a German band termed electro-industrial, a group around for more than two decades that appeared amongst other genres as having punk influences. The photo of her wearing the shirt was at a rifle range where the family had established a membership.

That band, KFMDM, has lyrics that are non-stop aggressive and intense and raw, but could also be seen as possibly intelligent — in a base way — and maybe even thought provoking analysis of our tough and fallen world and a call to action. This is strongly seen in one of their main hymns, titled Dogma.

The band name is a shortened version of the German phrase “no pity for the majority,” and when they were young rockers they had those words switched and flipped around, a bit reminiscent of an early Megadeth (a metal band who sometimes likely did such things intentionally) but not quite as profound, showing a “just coming out of the gates” swagger and need for honing, as well as the fact that in that all-caps name there was a misuse of proper language, again showing a youthful rawness that just calls for an editor. That badly worded phrase has been well-noted in the mainstream press, without those writers actually noting just what the mistake was, showing that there is some complexity there.

It’s worth noting that the most hardcore and extreme rock and metal, especially in their calls for actual action against what they think is bad and even evil in our society, has historically come from Germany. The band name has been said, interestingly enough, to refer to killing Depeche Mode, another rock band, an inference that may have been taken from lyrics to one of its songs. It is not known if those lyrics were satirical.

You are not going to see exposure to any musical content like that at Abundant Life Christian School, where the shooter attended.

What we’ve seen

At first before writing this post, I just let the dust settle. After first hearing of the shooting, I and some others unfortunately thought this was possibly one of those small, private, maybe even family-run schools with a quite loose, top-end leadership structure and forceful creed that recognizes and abides by only an oligarchy of voices. Even that there can exist just a perception, based on the actions of a few schools, illustrates that there is a concern. We do not want this become an “us versus them” setting.

We obviously didn’t want, or get, anything from the school where the shootings took place with the indoctrination and near-slavery of say, that Waco, Texas cult.

Or a seminary where its mere mention causes educated, progressive Catholics, if by themselves, to turn their heads in scorn, and think or say, that’s where those fixated problem priests come from.

And an analysis makes it is apparent that at the Abundant Life Christian Church we had none of those things overtly, the typical ones that could provoke any children to anger, despite some initial appearances and flashings that could stem from even the name of the school being a little unorthodox. But there is an emphasis that is a little unsettling and indoctrinary, of “base-everything-on-the-Bible” studies and infuse that into all subject matter, and order and discipline. Metal groups have long cautioned against such religious indoctrination, and check out the also complex lyrics of the late Ronnie James Dio such as Stargazer and Bible Black.

Maybe part of the answer to keeping these things from happening is in the question of why some students and whole families are drawn to such smaller and one would think non-diverse of most broad opinion and straightforwardly rigid instructional schools in the first place. After all, it is often a teen, and maybe a student, doing the shooting. They usually have been angered by something more troubling than a typical childhood should provide. And it is clear that this alleged shooter was angry at the world and unhappy — and in a good or bad way wanted to do, and/or say, something about it.

Details in the alleged manifesto of suspected Wisconsin school shooter Natalie “Samantha” Rupnow paint a much darker picture of the 15-year-old’s life than the main family-based content on her father’s Facebook page, and conclusions that have been drawn from it in the press.

Rupnow, 15, opened fire at Abundant Life Christian School in Madison, police said, killing one female teacher and a 17-year-old female student. Six other people were injured in the shooting before Rupnow died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound.

Police said, initially, they have not confirmed that a darkly written, Google Doc titled “War Against Humanity” circulating on social media is Natalie Rupnow’s confirmed manifesto. In this unconfirmed document, the author writes that “they” have “grown to hate people and society” and calls their parents “scum,” according to one press report. 

School background

Abundant Life was founded in 1978 as a community Christian school, serving the surrounding area, with its first graduating class only seven years later. ALCS was specifically organized to offer students academic (though focused) excellence in a Christ-focused context and content. ALCS offers grades from kindergarten through 12th grade.”

This is basically a mission statement: “Each individual is uniquely created by God!  This basic truth is emphasized in our instruction for all students.  As a result, ALCS students learn to honor other people and to respect the rights and property of others.  Training in these principles establishes a school atmosphere of discipline and order.  This enables the ALCS faculty to devote more class time to actual teaching, thereby fostering academic excellence.” I can appreciate venues that just put it out there, and say this is who we are, so that people know what they are encountering.

ALCS uses a combination of Christian curricula from Abeka and Bob Jones University for their preschool through elementary students.  At the middle and high school level, they use a combination of Christian and secular materials “which best fit our instructional goals in each academic area.” 

All subjects are taught from a Christian perspective, a guide says.

The Elementary School Program (grades K through 5) includes course work in Bible, language arts (using a traditional phonics reading approach), history and social studies, mathematics, science (taught from the perspective of discovering God’s creation), health, computers, physical education, art education, music education, and library.  Beginning in 4th grade, students may participate in chime band.  By 5th grade, the students may begin extracurricular sports.

The Middle School Program provides course work in the five traditional areas of Bible, language arts, history, mathematics and science/health. Students also experience classes and activities in physical education, the fine arts, including art, drama, vocal music and instrumental music, Spanish, computer education, and financial literacy.

At the high school level, the core curriculum consists of the following areas: Bible, English, social studies, mathematics, science, and physical education.  Elective courses are offered in the areas of foreign language, business, vocal and instrumental music, art, drama, computer applications, and yearbook publications.  Student activities include: National Honor Society, worship, band, prayer groups, and various clubs, along with athletics.
Biblical knowledge is believed to be a key factor in providing a successful education.

The author also writes in the document that they acquired weapons “by lies and manipulation, and my father’s stupidity” and as a morbid solution describes wanting to die by suicide, but feeling like carrying out a shooting was “better for evolution rather than just one stupid boring suicide.”

Meanwhile, posts and pictures on Jeff Rupnow’s Facebook page paint a picture of a typical middle-class American family. Posts from November of both 2022 and 2023 show his daughter doing things like happily playing with her dogs in a pile of leaves.

Jeff also posted a photo of Natalie at a gun range on August 17. In the photo, she is wearing a T-shirt featuring the logo and art work used in promotion of KMFDM, that German electro-industrial band, which is the same shirt worn by Eric Harris, one of the perpetrators of the 1999 Columbine High School massacre.
Rock T-shirts are nothing new, but to draw a generalization, if they depict a very popular band such as Iron Maiden, (probably the most used choice), it usually is an attempt to be with the “in” crowd, where if the band is lesser known or a niche genre, the wearer is more likely to have a knowledge of their content. This band’s cover art, with a couple of exceptions like one showing two naked women lying together in R rated content, tends to be less graphic than that of many.

When a friend asked if the teen shooting the gun was “kiddo,” Jeff Rupnow replied, “Sure is!!!! We joined NBSC [North Bristol Sportsman’s Club] this spring and we have been loving all every second of it!” according to a media report.

So 2025 is here, for a few days already, and a dentist shop down the way still, to draw in those needing a crown this Xmas, has a full-on — not a “partial” as that work would be more a business thing — display of a moving Mickey and Minnie Mouse with all those red, green and white trimmings. Thus if you get the drill, and want to view it, the holidays are still with us, just check out the northeast end of Locust Street in Hudson. See if you think Minnie looks just like Milli Mochi the music reactor. Just half the height.

But it is high time, with all these musings, for a year in review. There are so many possible and meaningful categories and sub-categories, but to pick we revisit a notable or two from above, and around, the globe, The Year in Space 2024.

Our eye is drawn to one of the latest lunar exploration luminarities, both a success and failure, as upon attempting a gymnasts-style-stick-it landing, its tripod fell over — after hitting a moon rock? — so the whole “blasted” thing toppled to the ground.

But there were of course some Musk achievements when literally rocketing in orbit, and North Korea is still trying, but it seems the best they can do is cross a bay, much less an ocean.

So we leave that to Elon, and maybe he will more fully fund NASA so astronauts can actually eat on the moon, even if regular people can’t on their kitchen table. Some can afford basic Chinese cuisine, as its (relatively) low in price, but China will not triumph, yet, unless maybe they utilize space junk, and rehab it first. But no Joe’s Garage exists above the stratosphere, and Frank Zappa has departed the scene in his featured possible role as chief mechanic/lyricist. 

So I get around to the point: There have been many technology near successes, but other fails to follow up on as a writer. I start with what you’d stink would be the most easy, all that glossy and sparkly paper that was wrapped around gifts under the tree. But we’re really just foiled again.

Some of these listings will be full of brittle foil. I will explore that danger to the info length of a scientist …

I can just envision Musk standing over the top of a poor Scrooge assistant with a whip. If you got a single strand of hair, one, the kind that seem to abound everywhere, pasted under a piece of that tape for the gift being wrapped for a well-heeled client, better remove it fast. It does not look professional, when applying a sooth-their-ego nametag, and the guy knocking on the door is an auditor. We’ll all been stuck with this gift-wrapping nightmare at some point.

If the hair’s curly Q is only sticking out from the edge of the tape’s far end a half-inch … what if it was only a quarter-inch? Acceptable? No, still must try to jut and cut.

Can’t get the scissors positioned right, to snip it off, anywhere near the tape’s outermost edge. (Like if you’re trimming your beard, seeing that one strand, and are looking in a mirror with everything showing in reverse, bass ackwards.) But wait, a bit of success!! Only how did I get a small bit of hair to remain? How close is close enough, mm not cm.

So just rip off the strip of tape, being careful not to take any bit of wrapping paper with it, and then what? It just attaches to your Sticky Fingers! I’ll bet The Stones never had to deal with this, as they likely have their wrapping of presents done for them, even if on the fly for that cute babe in the second row.

So you turn your scissors sideways, no luck, then try Combing Straight On To You when applying it another time: Same method, same result, while expecting different hair. Is this the definition of madness?

And what are you still, with Christmas Past looking you in the face, still wrapping and not having given? Sketchers, sweaters, checkers.

In the first case, shoe memory foam is thickened to become brain fog.

More than the foil fails

So what of other fails, not just wrapping, of the holidays? I’ll introduce a few I saw on New Year’s Eve …

With it 16 below in Canada (Vancouver?), and not as cold here but still bitter, there were immediately seen lots of people outside sans jackets. And no little black dresses, only swatches of leather on the otherwise bare legs, often only at the upper thighs, and usually not in the form of skirts.

Once inside, this question, also on style, made me think someone should be cut off: “Is my hat (brim) on the front or back?” You mean you can’t tell? You know, with fingers?

Another fashion of the moment was the obligatory New Year’s Eve cress with numbers 2025 in the hair. One women first wore hers front and back like a dino, then switched it to the less diverse sideways. It later in the night was the only type of decoration sitting alone, by itself, on the sidewalk. The next day, the pieces of signs of the night before could be seen over long stretches on the main drag in Hudson, but oddly, more in front of less rowdy clubs than those who wander toward that direction.

Over at an outdoor ATM across the concrete from any buildings, a trio of women was risking frozen fingers to make a transaction. Houston, (see below), there was a problem. “What, I can’t find my card? It’s expired? Why can’t I find it. Where’s my card?”

Reminds me of an old ditty, not by P Diddy but from my old German upbringing, and translates literally to this: “My hat has three corners. Three corners has my hat. If it doesn’t have three corners. Then It’s not my hat.”

— Rhythms of threes? Gotta bring in the Trinitarian. I simply have to mention here the Green Maharishi with the Two Pronged Crown, (oops, thought it was three, but maybe add a hair bob to the back of the head. Two will get you three.) It was done first by Fleetwood Mac and then redone (much heavier or no?) and famously by Judas Priest. Cool for Santa, first rushing forward to save our globe for the Children of the Grave and now at home at the North Pole and chilling out. —

I think we get the main point. I also think the original songwriter had overindulged, on either beer or Adderall. Or both to make, basically, three.

This was Science Fiction Day, so beam me up Scottie.

Maybe transport me to Austin City Limits. As they have music. It was there that my niece just accepted a marriage proposal. So the now “new” couple had flown from Wisconsin all the way down to New Orleans for the moment of truth, on New Year’s Eve, braving even area tornados on the airplane be able to do it in the land of honky tonk and large hats, not polkas and lederhosen.

Back up here, a sign said it all, sort of. It read simply “Happy …” The guy must have fallen off his big ladder, but I think you can fill in the blanks. Noteworthy, the band Phil and the Blanks has played here on recent New Year’s Eves.

Looking forward

V-Day, as in Valentine’s, has now virtually arrived with the gonzo ties to gift-getting going up on all the shelves, as the just-past holiday cards become a no-no. (My friend just stayed up all night dispatching them, as her days for acceptability were ticking.) If you didn’t mail for Xmas, six of the eight slots for homegrown cards at a big local retailer were sold out, so look forward.

At a venue across the parking lot, little trees still are stocked, for a little holiday cheer to set in front of you and keep you inspired for your last jottings.

In the movie rack, Batman as a movie version is outdone by the Joker on several that are hyped, then we go back to other sci-fi themes, if staying at home for your flick watching new year. As the apocalypse nears as per your viewing, this may be your last for such ringing in.

So, prior to waiting for another holiday to transpire, a nextdoor truck-trailer still has all its lights on and aligned to their its, especially on their corners, so no semi about it, despite the fact that some large-discount-store grinches have forbidden overnight over-the-road-trucker parking.

No such problem in the Kwik Trip lot, it did not leave things go: It did its own year in review, in its online ads. It listed for you, how many visits and purchases you had made, at particular times, in the past year. (What if they had a run of them at 11:59 p.m. on Dec. 31? Would that back up their ability to count immediately?) Other points noted, as I am OCD about my Kwik Trip. I made 782 visits in 2024, and ate 13,961 French fries. OK, I made that up.

When in Hudson on New Year’s Eve, do what the Hudsonites do, and move from the first freeway exit northward to catch those places over the river that stay open the latest. Tuesday timing makes it gone with the wind, for some.

When following that general rule of thumb, and go north a mile or two or even three, you may find destinations that are not closing per their usual time — with that being say around 9 p.m., bah humbug and aha grinch, with nothing special slated — but indeed are open until 3 or 4 a.m. With the more leinient rules in some Wisconsin cities.

As you head northward from I-94, in the first major building you will find, there is a trendy boutique that sports a sign saying “closing at 3 p.m. for inventory.” The big grill and bar also housed there, very typical in this south of heaven, has only its regular hours.

At the first major parking lot, a placard boasts a Thursday special, but again you have to wait past New Year’s Day, “large pizza for the price of a small.” The craft distillery on the south end of the parking lot only has their typical hours. For this night, being a Tuesday, and within normal delivery and takeout times, there is the option of the-several-year-consecutively-award-winning Green Mill specialty pizza and pasta. A Minnesota import comes through. Though their ad hawked the wonders of “Staying In Tonight,” and if that term fits, in one way of looking at it, depends on if you take delivery or choose to do takeout.

Yes Virginia, this is a Tuesday, and in these days of cutting costs, that makes it a day with complete closure of some grill and bars that offer mostly the grill end. (Only Monday is worse for that.) But as you inch toward the North Pole and Santa Approved, the (closed at 2 p.m.) Subhouse had on its doorstep a large box of free bread items that were individually bagged in small groups.

Most noteworthy of the places open late, The Smilin’ Moose being the farthest north in Hudson, and the Wild Badger in northwesternly New Richmond, each have massive balloon drops at midnight, to go with DJ music. Several dozen balloons or more, and extra hours, with sober cab. Also of note with some such things is the Village Inn, located in, you guessed it, North Hudson, and if you go a bit further toward Frosty, there is Big Guys BBQ Roadhouse, note that last word, also featuring their omnipresent shuttle bus, and not scuttlebutt. Other late-runners, in the two or three most non-residential north-end of Hudson blocks, include Dick’s Bar and Grill, and to a bit of a lesser degree with its last call, Hudson Tap closing at 3 a.m. You can get a ride from there too.

And although a place to hit earlier, there is right next to Dick’s, as one of four of those I normally do not give much ink …

— At Pier 500, “New Year’s Eve classical,” includes twin lobster tails or a single, steak filet, scallops and/or parmesan-crusted walleye. And that’s just for starters. And going forward past New Year’s, there’s the “limited Pier 500 single barrel select Sazerac bourbon.” But no, you don’t get the full barrel, it comes with a limit of two bottles per guest for a “Pier-fect” holiday gift.

— At Tattersall, a distillery and more that originated in Minnesota and has now added a large facility just north of River Falls, due to more advantageous Wisconsin rules, (theme here?), they in addition to their regular dinner menu, will offer a “special NYE menu including crab cakes, shrimp cocktail, walleye, New York Strip and delicious desserts. Plus, a complimentary pour of bubbles for those who choose to dine.”

— If you want to show off your singing as well as athletic as well as culinary tastes, suggested is karaoke to wrap it all up at the Hudson Bowling Center in Plaza 94, north of the freeway, on New Year’s Eve. Other than being on a day early in the week, the beauty of this is that unlike some, the singing, and they have some virtuosos, generally doesn’t get going until about 10 p.m. So you can dine and then bowl first. Then sing Hunger Strike, to imitate a rock supergroup.

— While there, consider dropping off a wrapped toy at the adjacent Jonesy’s Local, for all ages up to 17, although best are over 12. There are in-person and online options for delivery if you want to make like Santa. And the good news is that they accept donations, unlike some, through the 31st! Beer there, or be square.

The gifts and re-gifts have been returned, and I think that may have something to do with the fact the postal guy for the US service has been out and about early, in a rarity before noon. Naughty not nice, you are, if you didn’t get that special someone their gift via the mail until the 26th! Overtaxing the Postal truck driver/deliverer. Need the warrior strength of several Amazons. But the spirit of Xmas remains, so don’t go postal, even as we all approach New Year’s, and will 2025 be different than 2024? The carols have been sung (quite badly and maybe just hummed if you don’t know all the words), but you might want to extend it with karaoke (worse but there is a lyrics sheet on the prompter). So here is a mashup of All That Remains of the holiday, as we are on day six of the 12 that make up Christmas, rolling forward with NYE to 2025 at the same time as looking back. All the way to 2016?

So we are now in the sixth of the 12 days of Christmas, we made it halfway through, so I offer another hodge-podged half of bits of advice, celebration, humor and events.

At midnight on the 31st at the Wild Badger in New Richmond, there will be a silver-ball-and-moreso-balloon-dropping, maybe like in Pinball Wizard, or disco, as from the higher-than-usual second story ceiling, much like the ones they did at the old Pudge’s north wall, back as far west as you could go, a decade or two ago, to bring in customer traffic from the various venues that was about. The 2024-2025 event is kept at a similar length of descent, as it’s this time a balloon drop, and will be done indoors.

— Unlike the above, this venue has been raising a stink? The City Brewery’s “process,” and Lord knows I don’t want to know what that is, had been evoking a rotten eggs smell across LaCrosse, where it has a plant, to the point that fines had been adding up. I wonder as I wonder, or wander, do they also have that problem where they make LaCrosse, or is it LeCrosse, autos of the sort that had been driving in front of me, or are they becoming obsolete? All this from my old pal and employer, the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, in their statewide roundup, identified by corner region as in directional, where they made exception for my end of Wisconsin and simply called it Driftless. How is that? And indeed, why mention this here? Read down for further “spoils” of the year. —

A few blocks up the sidewalk, on the Friday before Christmas, the barber closed early, after high traffic the day before — the seating inside was full and having the others sit as a pair of couples just outside the door in the hallway — so that left Saturday as a no-show, and maybe even Monday as an outie. I wondered what will happen right before New Year’s?

I saw my very friendly, old friend Ricky for the first time in almost a year at a store on the other end of the downtown, where he used to work. The obvious joke, as he plinked away trying to make his new phone work to talk to others, momentarily distracted, was that old Steely Dan Song, “Ricky don’t lose my number …” And Ricky is now in his own band.

And, if you get the bug (in a good way) … The Hudson Bowling Center is again offering a rarity, as part of an ongoing tradition of theirs, special since it falls on a Tuesday, NYE karaoke. INXS? One wonders who will be singing as the ball drops.

The time leading up to New Year’s was marked by weekend football, and a need for munchies. It had come, my trek into one of the new Circle K’s in Hudson, in the downtown — as they move from Minnesota into Wisconsin — where I encountered a man wearing a Viking jersey No. 4.

He tried to redeem a lottery winning ticket, but was told that it originated from the Gopher State, so he could not do so over here in Badgerland. So we talked about the, changed subject, wonders of being a short man, unlike Randy Moss, and rather like my 6-foot-8 nephew trying to fit into his six-foot bunk over at UW-Madison. The jerseyed man was ambling next-door to Ziggy’s Bar, another Hudson transplant from Minnesota, to take in the game between his sometimes beloved Vikes and the Packers.

Come the afternoon, guests would include past Viking pro-bowlers and hall-of-famers Randall McDaniel and Tommy Kramer. And the omnipresent man of both states, Dave Dahl, as emcee.

And for a late-season change, they had a lot to play-by-play banter about, as the Vikings and big-day Sam Darnold held off a late charge from The Pack and won 27-25. (At the Stillwater lift bridge, there was a “Viking-Packer tug of war” over the river but hopefully not in it. I believe the Packers won this one. I cite all the Stillwater-area transplant venues, and also the Next Stop Bar in Houlton, a Badger berg even though small enough to be unincorporated aided the title. All the small things …)

The new convenience store string, a stalwart in Minnesota, toward the Twin Cities upper end, and across the St. Croix but not as far down to pass the Wisconsin River, leaves just one part of the trek behind. Way behind: North Dakota. Not even Iowa is this barren, as corn stalks score points. At least it has — and only has — Des Moines. Even the flatlands of Illinois can look east to Chicago.

But I bet it still has its trademark, word chosen for a reason, a college football bowl game. Corporately named with the bought and sold, old worn smelly jerseys, metal flecks of goalposts. And I bet it is (badly and get as many corporate buzz-type words in there as you can) dubbed the Amalgamated Crabgrass Abate Removal Technological Systems Bowl. Doesn’t this want you to see two feet and a cloud of dust? No Astroturf. With Joe Dirt performing at halftime?

Now, some humor pushing PG-13, if I can get away with such in this season:

Skipping cornfields, except for his corncob pipe, I enter into the streetscape my partially made-up character, Frosty The Ho-Man, and what is he, trans? Ho, ho, ho. And not necessarily holy, since as has been duly noted, the word Santa is not far akin from Satan. Ha, ha, ha. And put the ho in snow. But when getting past caricatures, life on the streets is no joke, even as Frosty “crosses” them at the corner.

So you better think twice, when going out for food when shopping.

Tis the season for not only killer snacks grub, setting on the table and virtually any flat surface, but food recalls of several brands. My niece still got sick for the holiday, followed by another niece … and my other niece? (Actually, I only have two, thank you Bob Newhart.) Two other members of families, and then more up near Appleton — none named Applegate — we know also got a grinchlike bug over Christmas, bad enough to decide not to attend services or holiday parties where you get gifts like, this year, Pepto Bismol. Even the bus driver got the bug, actually from a donut shop bad sandwich, but forged through with a long break stop or two.

But none had been to McDonalds since early fall or before, or any of those other places that in the last few weeks have got some bad fish or veggie, or both, or whatever. And on the sign of a marquee in Eau Claire on both sides when going to both Milwaukee and back, gave the invitation that the McRib is back being fried. But do you want it?

This invites where few would go, except Old School farmers. Cannibal sandwich anyone? Yes, the thawed but raw ground beef version placed on a bun and virtually smothered with black pepper and onions. Inconceivably, I’ve never known anyone to get sick on it.    

Going back a bit, in this time of tinsel-like clothing and accessories, to also include old TV talent show placings, Clay Aiken in an interview truly sported the ugliest-in-glowing-green-too holiday shirt, along with too-short sprouting-out hair that is like a bad version of Bowie — but each had their own charm. As does his new corral of Christmas carols, on sale now.

Then downtown there was Henry, and his non-PC T-shirt that had flickered on it an indie rock band and the phrase “120 miles to Mexico!” And comedian-TV host Steve Harvey on the above screen piled on, with a head-to-foot blazing red suit reminiscent of Santa Claus!

So lIke Santa and sleigh, catching major attention were many drones over in the east, from whom? In weather that a TV national news anchor cited, majorily, that was in six-below wind chill, which really isn’t that bad, viewed from my perch as a Minnesconsinite.

So I’m not watching in a luxury box like Taylor Swift, but do you look like red-stocking-hat beau Travis Kelce? All those shirtless guys, that’s cool and so cold, who are very portly but still strutting for those cameras would fit in well at Lambeau Field.

There was that airplane stowaway suspect trying to stowaway again — wanna get away? — aboard of all things (like my travels) a Greyhound cross-country bus! She was caught states away in Buffalo. The TV news days later told the tale of yet another stowaway, back to again in the air, wreaking havoc.

While searching for unity, just don’t put the Christ Child, in a manger, in too prominent a place on the Christmas tree, if you dare to call it that. But some people of other faiths might not rake on you like you think. Like they might if you use the rake to Kick It, as in fallen leaves from the month before, into their undecorated yard.

But what when you invite all your neighbors, of various religions, under one roof for celebrating Christmas? Yes, you might want a big house over an intimate gathering, to create a buffer for when you choose. But it could be done, and it might not even be too difficult to decide which traditions to highlight — or discuss these with your guests. Gather at least four of these peoples of different faiths, around one tree, as that trait should work — just be sensitive in what you hang on it. Psst, a young adult Jesus, not other ages, might be best. See why below.

This was the year believe it or not. So hope you made the most of it. Four key religions, some normally at odds, coming together? In our just experienced unusual annum, Christmas Day was celebrated, and on the same day because of an occasionally, not-every-decade-seen oddity in the alignment of their calendars, Menorahs were lighted by the Jewish people as the start of the days of their celebration, some Muslims found various ways to get involved in selected festivities, and the Kashaa fest celebrated by Black people (big around the area of my Milwaukee family) entered into the fray on Dec. 26, taking over for Christmas basically to the second.

All of these seem like festivals of light to me.  

But I have worked on more than one newspaper where the headline was always some close manifestation of this phrase: Keep Christ In Christmas. In the last city where this was a December staple, right here in Hudson, it seemed that no other topic could be highlighted. I think this turned off some of the ethnically diverse professionals who were part of the commuter crowd.

Nextdoor to my brother’s house that is decorated with numerous lights and decorations and Christmas figures, some religious and some secular, is a home that recently became occupied by people they believe are Palestinian. No holiday decorations on the lawn there, spare a small hockey net that’s kitty-korner to the steps. No visible tree in front of any unshaded window. But a full nativity just across the lot line, courtesy of my brother.

But lookout across the street, there is a house in which a family from Vietnam reside, with literally thousands of individual lights, some flashing or scrolling or blinking or rolling, especially on the two-car garage door, but even with their brightness and Busta Move, it was hard to see because their party had already started, and cars were parked in front..

But back to my brother’s immediate neighbors, a google search showed that many people of such descent and belief also celebrate a few of the holiday traditions of Christians — even Jesus based — such as putting up lights or flashers, and exchanging gifts, although many of them choose this as a time to reflect then intentionally conserve their money and/or utilize it for a purpose that’s more needed than say toys or jewelry or clothes. Some even erect a tree, and may decorate it too, but they say the togetherness with family and friends and sharing a bountiful and thus sacred meal is more valued.

This may not be totally Christ centered, but he is in the picture, as Jesus is considered a major prophet, note I said major, in the Muslim Holy Book, which also teaches, get this, that he before “death” was assumed higher into a place of salvation by God. Not bad for someone whom some think they are supposed to despise. But wait, was Jesus not crucified? It is taught by them that a substitute who looks like him stood in for Jesus and was the one on the cross. Imagine pulling off this bait and switch. So Muslims don’t fully celebrate the birth itself, and forget the crucifixion and Easter. I’m not a student of the Koran, so I’m not sure how or if the shepherds and Three Wise Men are slotted in. How would the three men weigh in if reigning in immigration court? Two of three, not four of seven, ruling for you would keep you here? I’m sure someone would appeal. Again and again …

So in this of all years, with everyone bickering about who should even be allowed here, and the plans for mass deportation, of even whole families who choose not to be split and make this their last and lost holiday season together, thicken and pick up smell, it was still possible for the believers in some of the largest religions in the world to celebrate simultaneously, if not a bit differently, and maybe even (if unleavened) break bread together — if indeed they all feast in that same manner. So why don’t we all issue each other an invitation.

Until then, see the music video of The Christmas Truce as done by heavy metal band Sabaton, a true story where both the entrenched Allied and German troops on Christmas Eve put down their arms and feasted and kicked the soccer ball around together, before they again resumed brutal fighting once Christmas had past, rifling balls of lead not woven cloth.

See you, all of you, next year in Jerusalem?

But first …

Here at HudsonWiNightlife, the idea has been floated to bring in other voices to the conversation, although that has proven to be far flung and in the future. Or so I thought.

The guest writer, whose work follows, moved that far forward fast. Someone I may at some point collaborate with, a budding musician who also writes lyrics, said I should in the foregoing run some great song-like poems by an older relative who is close to him. When I saw it, running this stuff during the just ending holiday season seemed a foregone conclusion. So I moved it to the forefront. But this site being what it is, I could have used a bit more foreboding and questioning. As in honor the message — and like my own writing it brings in God, either in well-chosen spots or full-blown forays — but bring in irony when appropriate. With that said, and to further align it with this site, when you read through, carefully, you may see similarities to the work of artists in heavy metal, a staple of this site, from Maiden to Metallica to even Motorhead. And rare here and there for her, again pick and choose, the presence of doubt you see more often in those other bands. But a strong faith is good, and there is room for many places on that range. That said, again, enjoy this poetry in this season. Good stuff. Joy from often jolly Joy.   

“A Sight Unseen”

By Joy Conrad

You shed your tears, for I am blind

Please don’t cry; I really don’t mind.

I have seen the light and it guides my way:

And I will see the face of God some day.

Weep for those who have their sight, 

But cannot see wrong from right.

For they live in darkness – not I who am blind,

You must see in one’s heart and beauty you’ll find.

Don’t cry for me because I am poor, 

I have more riches than ever before.

I have God’s love in my heart to glow:

Shining brighter than all the gold you could show.

Yet, weep for those who cherish their things;

For only God’s love is what happiness brings.

Don’t cry for me because I move so slow,

God doesn’t mind waiting for me – you know, 

Shed your tears for those who run fast,

Not seeing the beauty they have just passed.

Hurrying along without a moment to spare – 

Not even knowing what God has to share.

They stumble and fall and don’t understand:

Yet I walk slow – God holding my hand.

“True Love is Worth Waiting For”

By Joy Conrad

Waiting and waiting is sometimes hard to do.

Waiting for that someone whose love will be so true. 

The temptations of life are so hard to resist – 

I sometimes wonder if that someone does exist.

But, deep within my heart, there he’s a strong fate – 

That soon I will find my so much dreamed of mate.

His love will be honest, clean, and true,

A love that’s understood by few.

But, to each other our love will be fulfilled

Through the hands of true love that God hath willed.

Before we go back to more Joy …

— As a follow-up, boy did my brother come through on Christmas with all the gear, as far as decorating. This says it: Multiples of both Christmas trees and full nativities. Even at least one decoration in every bathroom. Dozens of not just bulbs, but also balls and bells on even the smallest tree. But as far as nativities, once past his neighborhood and its very nice houses, I saw a craggy cracked small nativity that looked like it was about to drop wood pieces. I thought that in reality, sans lights so bright, this was more like what the first Christmas probably looked like. And the advent calendar, the Old School one with doors you open while you wait, had been appropriately placed on the door of a further back room.

The holiday, or just prior, for a bell-ringer I saw was also less than comfortable, if not cozy. It was the first real cold snap, and it was bitter. Earlier in the day it had been in the 40s with little wind. So the bell-ringer thought he need not look at the weather report, and it showed in his dress. But there was the gathering area of a store for a very occasional less-than-two-minute warmup. I asked him if he had looked at the weather report, and the question he kinda dodged, simply saying he had volunteered for the job and signed up back before Thanksgiving. All over town, there were late-breaking sessions for free gift-wrapping for those late shoppers, each across multiple venues. Once home for the holidays I was naughty and didn’t get a last trio of gift cards until the noon hour, Dec. 24. The Olive Garden was practically filled with bags, mostly grocery style, that were partway full. I thought they were either doing the ultimate holiday charitable giveaway, or people had yet to arrive for a pickup catered Christmas. Seems it was a combo of both. One woman had several bags of prepared food lugged out. I guess she did not have to cook this day. — 

Now Joy picks up where she left off …

“In My Heart Forever”

By Joy Conrad

You are the only one I love and will forever more.

You’ve given me the love I’d never known before. 

A love that is more than love, and words I must look to find.

To express the feelings that are always there,

In my heart and in my mind.

And Darling soon we’ll be together and words we will not speak,

Yet in the moments the meaning of true love we’ll seek.

Together we will always share all the happiness life can give.

Forever Darling my heart is yours, my life for you I live.

“Our Savior”

By Joy Conrad

Jesus, our Savior, our Truest Friend

When our hearts are broken, He will mend.

He is the way, the Guiding Light, 

To help us through each day and night.

Each one of our hearts he wins;

So that our lives be not of sins.

He will help us to do right.

For we are always in His sight.

Jesus is Whom we really need

No matter who, what color, or creed!

“Flying”

By Joy Conrad

Lord, I’m looking from above

At the wondrous land filled with your Love.

The clouds so mellow, the sky so blue,

And I feel your love through and through.

Oh, how you have touched me, knowing you are near,

To ease the pain and sorrow of the unknown that I fear.

It’s trusting in You and believing Your Word.

No words are spoken, yet I’ve heard

The beauty of life You’ve given me;

Yet, I know the hereafter is a glory with Thee.

May I live my life, and You guide me through

With peace, and love, and joy with You!

“I’m Walking With You, Lord”

By Joy Conrad

You are with me wherever I go;

Without You, the sun doesn’t shine; a star doesn’t glow.

When I need help, You’re a Friend who’s there:

To comfort, to love, and show You care.

You reach out in darkness and make it light

I do the wrong thing and You show me what’s right.

Forgetting my faults, forgiving the wrong

You take me hand as we walk along.

When I’m walking too fast, Lord, You slow me down.

You ease my heart – make a smile from a frown.

The path may be rough, the hills steep and wide

But, I’ll make the journey with You by my side!

“Friendship”

By Joy Conrad

Friendship is a beautiful and priceless gift,

It is one you give as well as receive.

A friend is someone who is there when you need help

He laughs with you in joy, comforts you in sadness.

A friend reaches out with understanding and openness.

He lends a hand before he is asked.

A friend forgives.

When you need someone to talk to day or night…

A friend will listen, he will hear you.

He will stand by you, but never step on you.

A friend will guide you, but never rule you.

A friend will give from his heart

And make sure he never breaks yours.

A friend – someone in your life who says – 

“Thank you” for being my friend!

“Up On the Mountain”

By Joy Conrad

Looking down from the mountain, Lord, 

At the beauty you have poured.

The trees, the grass the sun’s warmth I receive;

And from my heart saying – in You I believe!

You’ve given me life, You’ve given me love;

You’ve given me strength from above.

You’ve touched my heart in sorrow,

Reached out when I needed you there.

And trusting in You, I know, 

No burden or hardship is too great to bear!

So often, Lord, I find myself hurrying through the day,

Not taking time to thank You for all You’ve sent my way.

So looking down from the mountain Lord – 

I’m looking up to You!

“For Mary’s Son”

By Joy Conrad

If I cannot reach you with my arms, 

Let me reach you through my heart.

You are my son and always will be;

Even though we are apart.

Times are hard and I wish I were there…

To tell you son how much I care.

Sometimes I’m alone and the tears fill my eyes;

I’m thinking of you and I hear your cries.

I’m not always right, but I try my best – 

I guess God is putting us through a test.

But, through my heart and God’s love – please understand…

And when I’m not there — let Him take your hand.

For Chuck’s Mom – “Margaret Conrad”

By Joy Conrad

Dear Mom –

I know I’ve said it so many times before;

But “love” cannot be said too much

For someone I adore.

You’ve reached out and touched me 

In so many ways,

Giving me the sunshine if it were a gloomy day.

Caring and giving of yourself in all you do,

Being so “special” because you’re just “you!”

Giving me strength and helping me grow

You saw my faults but never let me know.

You were always there before I could ask –

To help no matter what the task.

“Love” – a special word from my heart;

And no matter where you are, we’re never apart.

“One Yellow Rose”

By Joy Conrad

I give this rose with lasting love

And I feel your presence from above.

I think of you as each day goes by

And cherish the memories that never die.

I remember your unselfish heart and giving way;

The sunshine you put in every day.

The memories of how much you cared

And that special warmth you always shared.

Your courage and strength, so incredibly true.

When I began to fall, you carried me through.

As I give this rose and my heart cries;

Life must end, but love never dies!

“Anthony David Tutrone II”

By Joy Conrad

A baby boy entered this world on June 28, 1964.

A cute little bundle we all grew to adore.

Yet, life was a struggle for this one to keep alive;

Like a “Tiger” he fought and fought to survive.

God has blessed him with courage, strength, and ambition;

Sincerity, kindness, faith, and devotion.

He’s served his school in sports, in council, and more.

Achieved awards none had achieved before.

He’s admired by his fellow students; loved by his family and friends.

The list of his accomplishments never seems to end.

He believes in equality, what’s fair, and that justice survives.

There is no prejudice seen through his eyes.

His goals he sets high, as his future nears

He overcame doubts and shuns those fears.

He is walking through life – each step firm and strong –

God taking his hand as they walk along.

“You Never Left My Side”

By Joy Conrad

How many times I have failed you, Lord.

I’ve let you down when I should have tried.

Yet, You never left my side.

When I felt alone and had no one to care.

Fought out in anger and reached despair.

I felt you there when all I defied.

You never left my side.

I’ve taken the wrong road and you turned me around:

‘Til the path to Your door I again found. 

You let me in and held me when I cried.

You never left my side.

You’ve forgiven me and made me whole.

Touched my heart and healed my soul. 

In Your faithful love we will always abide;

You never left my side.

“As I Look Into My Life”

By Joy Conrad

To understand myself is truly a goal,

To look into my heart and search my soul.

To let go of the old and grasp onto the new;

To live life to the fullest as God intended me to do.

To conquer my fears, as they have conquered me;

To be more than I hoped I could be!

To love unconditionally as my Lord loves me,

To look deeper than only what I see.

To realize success is only knowing that I’ve tried;

To know happiness is measured from the inside.

To not judge a man until I’ve traveled in his shoes;

To reach out to others, telling them the “Good News!”

To grow and learn what I do not understand

To let God guide my life as He takes my hand.

The end.

Tree up, towards the middling skies above, and I’m thinking heaven past that! Tree down, mom takes a breath, at least these days. … Christmas is not about gift-getting, (you don’t have to wrap a tree, at least not in the formal sense), or gift-giving, (you only need one tree, really, but oodles of gifts), rather it’s all about decorating, and maybe they’ll do it for you if you give them the keys to the closet. But we flat-out need a tree. And it better be a balsam, Mr. Grinch.

To tree or not to tree? I know what my brother thinks. And my mom. I’m somewhere between …

It never used to be Christmas without one. When in college, early years in the work force, and later once the hours required waned and the vacation time had been built up, it was always home for the holidays and at the centerpiece of each celebration was – a usually massive tree. At the house where I reside the other 51.5 or so weeks of the year, sometimes one was put up sometimes not, with the coin flip usually going against in the last decade or two. At the same time, in the last few years my mom has either also opted in that direction, since it was a lot of work for her, but less when the grandchildren took over the task. The youngest had long ago taken over the role of chief decorator, and he knew just where each and every ornament had to go! I have never taken the time during the busy present unwrapping event to ask him if he had a favorite.

—When leaving a downtown bar, I noticed someone had placed a big candy cane-shaped decoration into the thick snow. No wait a minute, until I got closer and looked closer, it was actually a dead plant sized like a cat-tail but partially bent over. Think I gotta get off the sauce … The best decked out vehicle though, even beside the decorated trucks we see, is the Hudson-based bus company that has one of its fleet set out by the street, showing strings of colored lights bulbing out in all the right places – you know,  along the narrow-crack door edges that run up and down and across. One of our fine grill and bars closes at 3 p.m. on Christmas Eve, but lets you known with the same small sign on its door that last call is not until 3:30 p.m. An earlier day, but not by much, that snow plow, or was it another implement, on an icy city street during a snowstorm sure was hauling ass. And not to a now-its-melting manger. On the other end of things, that street de-icing machine built the size of the lawnmower, and booking it down a main road, really wasn’t going fast enough to not block traffic. —

But this year, the Christmas tree at my brother’s house, always outranking the reaching-toward-the-heavens cathedral ceiling for importance, underscored a lack that pro-typical balsam fir at my mom’s condo. I wrapped a last present and turned my torso to place it under a tree that was not there. But I still remain OK with the idea of staring only into the figurative eyes and heart of that figure – the tree at the brother’s home, for decades, that lunges more than a dozen feet in the air nearly at the exact point of a pair of skylights.

The traditional bulbs are always the best, orbs with colored foil that caved in, with more folds, at just the right places of the circle with a spire, some going back to when I was a very small child and at grandma’s house, too. All the trees, no matter at whose house, had a style of shape that was widest at the very bottom, but had somewhat straggly branches that could be snipped or culled completely, leaving room for presents. Although the biggest boxes had to be housed until Christmas alongside, or maybe even in back of the tree, if that’s where the lower branches were slimmest. Good thing we gave that tree a last twist, when setting it up, so it turns out that there were practicality and not just beauty reasons.

Back to mom. She still put up some of the standard, as in being around multi-generationally and as such obligatorily, decor stuff on all the cabinet and end-table tops, to no end, or this time there was one. The nativity was still there, and next to it a tiny makeshift pine tree I once bought mom for Christmas, although both were missing most of their small stones on the roof, or sparkly thingees attached to the end of branches, respectably and respectfully. By the front door, there were the two wooden and painted planks, made when mom did a holiday bold paint job on them with her grand-daughters at a class for doing such, at a local business that specializes in doing such. (I on my end did an advertorial for Cheers Pablo on such things and they stiffed me. So naughty or nice, and coal in their stocking, and I think that is part of what is handcrafted.) But Christmas cookies were a half-and-half deal as far as volume, and none of that famous (moreso than in most cases, the term applies) cranberry sauce with other fruit add-ins, or punch, spiked or otherwise. I know my sister-in-law will more than make up the difference in a (mid)holiday meal.

I know that back at my first home to call such as an adult, getting the tree just right – in those early years when my wife and I decided to have one – can be a push and pull that can lead to squabbles. As can the process of sweeping and vacuuming and picking up personally needles that drop That First Time Up The Stairs. Every single Grinch-like needle, and don’t dare miss one! And to cut off the bottom base of the trunk – they call it hard wood for a reason — later done out in the garage but varying in location depending on the size of tree, and how it grew in the middle years, then dwindled. The thick screws that gave support to the old-fashioned metal stand, colored red and green with some gray streaks from the scraping, never seemed to go in straight, always angling off to the side. The arms did the same, and are they actually called arms, or did I hear her shout directions wrong when standing just near enough to hold the tree by way of one of its sturdiest branches, but far enough away to be able to see if it was at least sorta straight. Could never seem to get that right, and “right” seems to be a word I’m using a lot here.

How do fix this whole situation? Joe always had a good idea that was bad in practice. There were an endless supply of wrong-size, just barely, widgets and jahoozits and many other words that you can almost spell to serve as splints and small joices, words my dad loved, and there were a few other words coming from me too blue to be printed – I believe that even new Catholics like I were told to go to what they used to call confession, PRIOR to Christmas not after when it’s really needed. They changed the term to make it softer and call it reconciliation? Not cuz of the likes of me! This is why Christmas is only once a year, to keep folks like me from building up (bad) points to ensure us of hell. OK, it wasn’t really that grievous, likely since God took one look at what my tree trimming had done to his once beautiful creation and He got distracted!

What, more tinsel, don’t we have enough hundreds of strings of tinsel on it already, and remember somebody has to take it off after 12 days, and Thank God there are that many days in the holiday, to give me time to decompress/procrastinate. And no, that there really is a bare or bald spot, that’s what’s coming to my head, and there is actually a traffic jam of orbs already, right where you are pointing …

So abrupt ending to end this essay … no more words too, to throw at you.

Happy holidays and Merry Christmas, Joe.

The price of a (small) spruce is up to hundreds? Balsam besides. So I pine away. Eva Gabor of Green Acres didn’t have to worry about this, because I think she played the stock market well. Because of this doing, had plenty of dough. So she didn’t have to raise one herself.

To the point: Price gouging is a gift that keeps on giving, galore and they gotcha and just keep grabbing more, or keeping you from doing the same. Harris had that nagging woe natilly nailed, with her platform that had few planks because why, price of wood is so high and she was being outspent. But going back to gouging, just how can this all be? And how is it playing out in the fact that it’s much tougher to load up under the tree, or get one straight and tall, much less buy it to start with? The star on top might fade, and lights flicker away.

— Is BOGO a Christmas term? Is Two Minutes To Midnight an Xmas jingle? These are a pair of last minute holiday gift ideas that as such are beyond what’s become the usual buy $100 worth, and get $25, or even just $20: (1) At the Dairy Queen, Hudson branch only, half-off on gift certificates in virtually any domination, if you want to increase your winter chill with some ice cream. Nothing says and sells seasons like a Blizzard. (2) At Kwik Trip, a total of two BOGO tickets for Bucky Badger to their own Holiday Face-Off college hockey tournament down in Milwaukee, at the Fiserv Forum.

Or, you can just get brand-name cigs, and a two-pack and not solely in hip-hop, for $2 off, but you have to be a member of the loyalty club, so sign up! Oh yeah, the special is at Joe’s Mart on the south end of downtown Hudson, across from the DQ by the way, and let it be thus known that despite the name, I’m not a member of the ownership team  and have no vested or otherwise proprietary interest in their relatively new venture. —

The need just keeps on getting greater, for those marginally valued these days who are on the margin, right in time for the holidays and the season of give-that-killer-gift as one-upmanship concerning your affluent family, and Thank God and Goodness my very own family is beyond forgiving. They have put-up for years with my cheap White Elephant-turned-slate-gray — almost like the before-burnt color of coal that reasonably should be put in my stocking? — vague attempts at Xmas presents, all done in the name of it’s the thought that counts. But maybe if you burn that coal to a cinder — isn’t that kinda what the grinch did? — it becomes a bit whiter, to save the holiday. 

Backing up to describe the now-more-than-ever-need, when money for gifts is needed, even to be done by the needy. That nary-the-poor-price makeup note attached to the holiday card only goes so far. And I’m sure there are those who truly cannot scrounge up a White Elephant gift or dish to pass.  

I recall seeing some pretty good looking, surplus furniture being set out for free on the lawn of The Phipps Center For The Arts, and it was all snapped up before nightfall. And that occurrence was in summer.

Food pantries and various other distribution places are seeing greater and greater numbers of clients, judging from a quick survey of such entities in the area. In my apartment building, the rate at which extra produce and dry goods that’s donated by residents so their neighbors can partake has stepped up in pace month by month. Same day as placed out, it’s often taken, and people are being less and less picky. This is time-of-month dependent, as for when people get their benefit checks, or these days direct deposits — there are no more actual food stamps, just plastic swipe cards that these days hey you never know, might have a chip incumbent or included or embedded or incurred — but even that benchmark on hang-tight-until-The-First-Of-The-Month is going by the wayside. Back to the people in my apartment complex and its gathering and food table station, who will settle for cans of free generic black beans becomes a barometer. Green beans maybe not as much so. And so many more people have to resort to going on the Greyhound bus, another barometer, or maybe can’t even afford the ticket.

The Haves among the Have Nots are doing quite well, thank you, and this is shown by the fact that while some of these people are placing old (easy) chairs out on the curb for free, some are just chucking out ones that some people would take, in the dumpster, sometimes more than one at once. (I myself have picked up from the curb a usable table, and also what looked like a wooden version of an Xmas Red Ryder to stack on top, to work as an overflow food pantry, and love the two-inch-wide strips on either side of it for stuffing stuff that kept encumbering my cabinet space, like counting up cake mixes.)

All this taps at something that the Democrats should have hammered home more often: Their candidate for the highest office in the land had said, on occasion, that she would go after, like she did in her day as DA, those charging ungodly high prices. She did not say just how she would minimize price gouging, as it was called, But that would resonate, you would think, with those whining about rises in grocery prices.

But how did grocery prices skyrocket, well beyond the factor of inflation? I don’t think it is your typical grocer, or farmer, making those extra bucks, and there of course is always the middle-man. But as I now shoot oddly from the hip, unlike the accuracy of Old School Matt Dillon As Marshal, look as you needed to do, and still must, past just Big Pharma. Go also with your wrath to Big Corp — and Big Insurance and Big Legal — as in the very-large-scale producers of things like those tractors and all kinds of wagons, and lots of other implements that plow the fields, and make products like fertilizers and seed and pesticides, (and these are being rounded up these days), and the list could go on forever. And don’t forget the crazy prices of real estate, as in the land to plant on. All these things drive up the cost to produce food, and it’s the big corporations who mass produce them, then sell them, at whatever the market will bear. And if you want to try to get insurance in a fire-ravaged area, good luck in its adjusting.

These factors are going to be there no matter who is in office, and that’s the case too with all the blow-up-everything wars across the world, and natural disasters that mess with their farmers getting food on your table. And with global warming and the havoc it has reeked with what-we’re-finally-now-seeing-as-delicate ecosystems, growing conditions are impaired. Even right here in Wisconsin we have seen the records fall, or close to it, in categories such as drought and flooding. Yes, both of them, in the same years.

Top that off with massive tariffs that will mean the extra cost has to be picked up by someone, and that’s you oh Joe Consumer, and things are not going to get better soon.

What we really need to do is go after That Sticky Circumstance Of The Stock Market. No amount of dividend or shares gaining greater value is going to be enough to satisfy the typical holder of stock in what, corporations! The more they get, the more they want, and feeding this machine becomes more important than ethical behavior. Even the dough paid out to greedy CEOs, large amounts of it seen in massive market holdings of their own stock, pales by comparison with these numbers. (I’ll check out actual numbers, to see just how bad this teller impact is, in a subsequent post.)

Until then, check out the song by get-this, British-based-band Dire Straits, called Industrial Disease, becoming his country’s fall from grace as a machining powerhouse. They have seen the problem since (shortly after?) the ’70s. The song tanked in the US, but was killer on the UK music charts, as they were ahead of us in this game, in recognizing the problem, and seeing things as global before it was a buzz word.

Also, in recent times being a CEO is not a walk in the park, and many are quietly or not so much so leaving their sky-high posts and coming down to earth. But too late, they have become a tangible symbol for corporate greed, as nobody is worth that much money — although a former co-worker, this back in the ’80s, got mad at me for saying such, as her father was a big-shot and with every penny!?! I refer to multiple verses in the Judas Priest song named Breaking The Law, and others of the like from this working class band from an industrial area, cramming a lot of thought into a tune that weighs in at just over two minutes long. So when that health corporation head exec was shot to death when out for a walk recently, does that violent act really surprise us? It shouldn’t.

Victim of Changes, sings the priest in a comparison I make. Without warning, somethings dawning.

Expanding on all this was a conversation, as speaking with others later reiterated, with whom else? Mom. This alleged crime should shock people, but in what way … Killing is not justified and anyway he did not have any direct dealings with the insurer, just a blanket – or I don’t have a blanket anymore since I gave mine to another now homeless person – grudge against need-to-be-very-much-all things corporate. This is where I differ from mom: Could the shooter have been narrowing it down to the health industry, and all that it is. But what if he got massively got screwed by some middle-man or broker to that company, with all its arms?  Or has a friend or relative to which that has happened. (Should someone like him thus vent anger even if he is not impacted in an immediate way, if like say myself, be it thrust out against a family member who is in the financial department, but not heading it, of a health care insurer?) Then the next news clip, where someone set on fire and killed a woman who was sleeping on a subway train. Will this criminal matter, by comparison, be subject to the “here today, gone from tomorrow’s news cycle” scenario? Because she apparently was homeless. I dare to compare. And as far as the idea that we revere some people but dismiss others because of the manner in which they die, see the System of a Down song Chop Suey.