As promised, for snippets of what’s been going on, here’s the lucky 13:
— Getting lucky enough to get on any magazine cover will bolster your career, especially if you’re an exotic dancer and the scope of the publication is more than just one state. That was the case in the recent edition of Midwest Nights, a PR vehicle for the strip clubs around a several-state region. On the cover was a blonde who could be old enough to be the mom of some of the other dancers pictured — good for her! — who has strong Hudson ties and for years had been a fixture at Dibbo’s while taking in rock bands. In the cover photo, she’s shown while dancing, stretching out toward the ceiling to grasp the top of a pole.
— Following the Vikings lackluster loss to Cleveland, a guy with one of those purple jerseys was seen outside of the Cajun Club in Houlton with his head bowed over the payload wall of a truck, (apparently weeping for minutes on end?) Inside, a dancer wearing a remarkably similar purple jersey proposed to two men who were similarly attired — that makes four such jerseys — that it was VIP dance time. Take that dancer-dabbling Brett Favre!
— A small tot dining at Green Mill broke away from his parents to the next booth over and started punching the buttons of the electronic Megatouch game. Pardon me for going Old School, but would that be like Kid ‘N Play?
— At Hudson’s Buffalo Wild Wings, a guy wearing a Chicago Bears sweatshirt and apparently recognizing me from my years of Hudson Raider sports coverage, came by with one insistent question: “What do you think of the new grey pants?”
— Late this week, a group of parents were downtown celebrating the upcoming Hudson High School homecoming. They cranked the jukebox and sang along to this line, “Daydream believer and homecoming queen.” Better not offer her a beer.
— It’s a My Birthday redux, or Yes, I’m Still Alive. When in late summer I turned 52, ouch, the question of creating my own, original birthday shot was revisited. And to recall, since I’m 100 percent German, again ouch, the name had to be something to do with Kaiser or Kraut, and had to mention Jag. My friend Chris, scheming, suggested Jagermeister, rum, pineapple “and one more.” Then he changed the theme, digressing, and recommended Beatwriter as a name. I now recall that what followed is this final, fuzzy thought, when the bartender Mabel came by — Mabel’s Able Ale — although OK that’s not technically a shot.
Fast forward to the other day at Woody’s in Bayport, where it seemed rumors of my demise were premature, I think. It seems someone posted outside the bar a sign that pointed to a riverside park and said, “Jim Winter’s Memorial.” Hmm, some of the servers thought, we don’t know any Jim Winter and could it be that the Joe Winter we know actually goes by “Jim?” It was somewhat touching that they were a bit distraught over the possibility of my death, but the next day they saw me again and breathed easier. Which caused me to quip to the bartender when I coughed up my money, “Hey, dead men don’t pay cash.” But soon I had to leave, with one more quip, “I have an appointment with my funeral director.” That’s creepy, she said, but somewhat funny.
— What happened to the pepper? My neighbor is the Pepperfest king, and the standard table-like box on which the standard three-foot pepper is propped was placed so close to the street that it might be in the right-of-way. That apparently was too close, as over a beer the other day he lamented that someone had cut the supporting cables and ripped it off? Call it the Peculiar Prank of the Disappearing Pepper.
— A guy was standing outside of Dick’s Bar and Grill and espousing the benefits of a local historical baseball team, the Afton Red Sox. The man also alluded to some type of ownership interest that was mentioned on Conan O’Brien’s talk show.
— When a patron walked into the Green Mill, quite nattily dressed, one of his friends asked him if he belonged on the cover of a “men’s magazine,” but should it be Outdoor Life or Golf Digest?
— This sign was made as a greeting by bartender Michele at Dick’s, the Mr. Spock “live long and prosper” version of V for Victory. Which caused me to quip about the heartbreaking brunette, that she’d just seen Spock for the first time show some emotion, crying in his beer!
— And this about the downtown “Dick’s University,” as proclaimed by their shirts. This inquiring reporter asked if some of the entertainment was anything like that at the scandal-ridden Oklahoma State University? The answer was taken a different direction than what I’d thought: This shirt is a classic and no longer printed, and is so hard to come by that any recruit would love to have one.
— Two funny signs, on opposite ends of town. At Kozy Korner in North Hudson, one read, with apologies to Alanis Morrissette, “I’ve got one hand in my pocket, and the other’s eating a Kozy Pizza.” Then this one for the latest dinner theater production at the Hudson House Grand Inn, with a comma noticeably missing, Now Showing The Man In Pajamas. It apparently had Monte Python-ish stylings. Surprise, surprise!
— Congestedly, on Wednesday, Sept. 11, a two-mile-long stretch of highway — in Minnesota, surprise, surprise — was virtually closed because of repair. A busy part of Hwy. 95 that leads from Interstate 94 to Woody’s in Bayport and other parts unknown was restricted to one lane, on the shoulder no less, in work that was done in the middle of the day, not the middle of the night, like you might expect. All the more reason to be out and about … only in the late evening.
— Lastly … Wait a minute, that would be item 14. Never mind.