An acutely august August, by the numbers, is in the books and fallen away, with fall and its autumn around the corner. And the books have capital letters. So September and a Big Such Days among only 14 now come Roaring in. All vigorously in Just One Venue! —– And then there are those (vigorous?) Germans and their chosen one time of year, to fall off the beer wagon, detailed in the last two paragraphs of this post. The best for last, unlike that nasty backwash.

If you thought they couldn’t roll it out further, with a barrel of fun, and at The GasLite couldn’t follow-up on an adept August?
Just behold only three days into the next month in Ellsworth. On Saturday, Sept. 3.
It’s the Annual Run Whatcha Brung. Enuf said. What kind of killer ride you gonna contribute to the rally? There have been literally dozens of such things on the not-so-mean street lately. (More on that, and how far the trend goes, in a later post. But maybe you will see some of these, with many numbers of wheels and wheelies, while at The GasLite?)
Then after just five more days — Thursday, Sept. 8 and Friday, Sept. 9 (INDOOR STAGE). Its KONG — Monsters of Rock (emphasis was not added by me). The big-time, big-top, over-the-top music theme has been played out many times, but not like this.
Then the day of overlap. Friday, Sept. 9 and Saturday, Sept. 10, its back to 1990, the 32nd annual SCVR CHILLY FEED (again their caps without gaps, and get that ride out again). Advanced Tickets ON SALE.
Then another, a week later, only midway into the month, this time a different kind of ride. Saturday, Sept. 17 — TRUCK PULL.
More info to come, they say. Of course.

— This just in, as I fall into place. The local legend Jorgensons have again reinvented themselves, in a number of ways that almost rivals Madonna, and this remake of a tried and true set of standards now features this lineup change: Tim J of course, shown in promo photos way off to the left, and also a pair of women and two men. Diversity speaks and/or sings, as that’s where the women usually come in. The upshot is that they play Ziggy’s in downtown Hudson on Saturday night, for the first time of the new version of Jorgensons there or almost anywhere in the region. —

And with all that said, got to invoke the Sturgeon Nationals on the 17th on Yellow Lake, where the top fish could top off at upwards of 170 pounds. And the world record is even greater by a few pounds, and I believe that may have come from The Other End Of The State, where I a couple of times petted sturgeons and their leathery-sandpapery skins that had beached themselves on the Wolf River so they could mate. Laid out so they could get laid, due to this narrow and winding stream. Want more of this and enter the fishing contest, making it more contested from the usual crew? Bobcats in New Richmond can hook you up.
But we also must look forward to Oktoberfest (spelled German way), from this — ouch! — 100 percent German. A newer face of a bartender was wearing her shirt last night sporting a Muchen fest — and that’s the Deutsch, with at the top of the U that funky thingee, as if buttoned-up Germans can do very funky, as she indeed can with the regular fist-clasp — and for sure not a munchkin. (I joked with her that since my germanely German family has traced its history back to when each and every one came over in the boat circa 1860, there may have been that aberational sort from Tanzania centuries prior. And don’t those centuries cry!)
And I, like much of my music, must reference the end of a previous entry below, that being MLK, as far as the Deutsch component. You can look it up.

Share the Post:

Related Posts

A hodgepodge listing of everything that’s truly different but maybe baked porage follows, and we’re not talking about a connect-the-dots or puzzle-pieces contest or one on Trump’s foreign policy, haha, rather what I saw and what will be seen around town in recent times. Mostly, one of each. Think you have the world’s, or more likely local church’s, best grilled cheese sandwich, (coming from the land of, specifically, well curded and curdled milk and honey?) Fry it to the test on Saturday. No this is not an autumn chili cookoff, or char the best burger, or even a poker run...
Music in the trees? It conjures up images of a poet wearing millenniums-ago robe and sandals while playing a lute and propped onto the fourth fork of a bigger-than-usual apple tree and doing a balancing act on his ass while he sings a soliloquy or a soffit. Maybe taking a bite in-between verses, to match what listeners chomped on if they hauled it in down long nature paths, making for dinner and a show with duos and trios, and one huge and elaborate band. Well didn’t quite get that lute-ist. Or a bassist so high on life and so-forth stoned...
Questions everywhere? These days, how do you dismiss an ad or a politician, or whoever or whatever pops up and occupies your computer screen, or mailbox, electronic or otherwise? And did that answer in the form of a package or letter or even air waves — coming from a pol or a pool? — ever actually arrive, like all those ads and flyers? Maybe it never will? And surely not written with a quill. As one friend just reminded me, it all starts with one problem leading into another set of problems. Or, like a volcano boiling and brewing and...
Hey today they threw it all back to you, as it is election day, and with it the last Badger gasp — if least if they’re our candidates — (is that the throaty noise they make?), with a soar-throated, campaign-trail rasp made by an audio-version plethora of last-minute flyers that fill our boxes with hopes to grasp, so we can check their boxes when we go to the polls and pick a (partial) winner to move on to full November midterms. Less then the Trump-triumphed manhandling our mailboxes got however, in the last election of this type. Those worn, creaking...
Scroll to Top