Contact us
Back to All Posts

Doubling down on the rallies that run, with depth? To the hills? Enthralled by what I encountered at an earlier one — by even an MTV fan doing parking and so ’80s politics — I had wanted to hit up and-justice-for-all candidate Crawford with a couple of Qs … But so many people ahead in the line, wanting to be seen with her as selfies no longer cut it, I’d have to wait like a stone. But not alone.

The guest of honor key candidate would not arrive for fully another ten minutes if on time, but in the already full-to-the-brim main room of the tap-room-brewery, a look-alike campaign worker could be seen standing about 15 feet toward the west end away from the podium.

The arrival soon came, and brought the house down, but that first one before then … She greeted one person, then another, and then there was an opening. So I sauntered by, asking if she was indeed the infamous chosen one? as in Susan Crawford, candidate for the state of Wisconsin Supreme Court.

The answer? No, but I get that all the time. A key point because Crawford herself soon showed, (with tell-tale cheeky mole and I got close enough, for a few moments, to check?), and thus took the stand. As her very entry soon came, it brought the house (and Senate?) down. A takeaway from what’s-in-a-name came that I found interesting but not crucial: No noted the first one, I am not, (nor am I at least closely related to), as she said, fashion cup if not plate Cindy Crawford. And since she has typically logged, as per another volunteer, 2,400 miles a day while stumping for herself. If stamina is a question, like Maiden’s album-a-year Death on The Road and Live after Death, while Trump merely strolls the golden golf course …

— March is ending and whether it goes out fought like a lion or a lamb (specific Dio song reference) depends on time of day or night. Past days, even before the recent snow, have seen lots of T-shirts and bare ankles up the pants-leg, (Aldi has for $7.99 an added strappy shoe), and there already has been one farmer’s market. Moss sweats with the dew in the cold, as it had long ago greened out in a series of bins below a shop window. And for you pol or poll followers, there is a campaign sign sticking atop an old Christmas tree in a big pot. Much has changed since then. —

Crawford sermonized, in a good way, and made a few points that were new to me about why she is the right choice, including how we treat those with disabilities such as her own ilk child and the possibly pending cuts in special ed, (more on that in a future and even earlier post), and then people lined up at a full-or-so 10 percent of those populees attending at the time. And as such After Forever, the dwindling after things died off, and I thought that if to make an-inroad with this globetrotter, I could wait it out. But wait, with every token two people who got mugged in this way, with semi-awkward arms around each other, there were three who joined the line. And then re-hit after-photo-opp the back of (or thus again jumping coyly into the line to make it worse?) Concern if that altar is all their after?…? To be or not to be Crawford-like? As the line continued to show length. To be and shine, Ronnie James Dio, The Last In Line.

I had a handful of not questions for her, but observations and/or scenarios, musing Dave Mustaine style, to see what she’d say about these thoughts. I did manage to corner her, at the end of the hall, as she was walking out after a trip to the can — no not that one — but as we both noted it was 11:04 a.m. (and past as one more jumped the now such as it was line) with an 11 O’Clock slated closing. We concurred, maybe next time to exchange, if there is one based on voting. More of a happy ending. 

I quickly noted, and bookmarked in my brain for further checking, that there were very few 35-and-under people visiting, and few of those male, which should concern those questioning the breadth of the electorate. I did make that quip to an (admittedly) beautiful 45-year-old-or-so and her (obviously) quite young daughter, as when I am tempted to say it, I will say it, query both of them that their sheer youthfulness bucked the trend. I just got and that’s OK, the typical, and the even posting of this question shows I have quipped this far too often, oh you’re so sweet …

She, too, could have been Cindy Crawford. Like the first person I encountered on this maiden voyage at Hop N Barrel (blatant promo) into one-of-what-I’m-sure-will-be-many political meet-and-greets, minus again a mole, or was it two? Three would be very cheeky.

Back to meeting and greeting, I ran into a (late-staying) real cool guy from past days, who works construction and has a cool amped-up gun collection, so you would think he’d be among the first to rally behind Trump. Not so … We come from entirely different worlds but we can bond, now for more than one decade, over even things like this …

Despite the breadth of people in the big main brew back room, that could have been a small banquet hall, there were not even a few stragglers in the front room by the windows with no curtains just ad signs for the station. Is this a case of the MNG being held in the a.m. vs. p.m.? Unusual, as this is Wisconsin. Would Mr. S., he of his allegedly highest standards, admit to even drinking an occasional beer and be truly state-worthy? And then driving like a local conservative judge, and being let off, (twice)? Think about it …

A point I think can be apropo … Walking away from the main gathering, I saw posted and perching upon the top crosshairs of 2-by-4s that had formerly (now removed) held a Trump sign or two, but not three, (Biblical note), on an otherwise vacant grassy lawn, (a point here), a much smaller Go Crawford sign.

Share the Post:

Related Posts

  • I’ll be brief and punchy with this headline notation, as we transition to giving you more and sometimes shorter choices. And you may notice some of that as you beckon forward. It’s circular. Like a flush. Be careful what you mix, heads vs. text, drinks vs. food, and all kinds of potions — that may go bump in the night. —– Punchy, potentially, but I digress or progress with a new patriotic addition.
My mom has told me not to be a potty mouth when I write, as she certainly would not appreciate hardly any of the standup humor on say, Comedy Central Radio. SNL maybe. But after 11:30 p.m. … But there comes a time where a man must make a stand. And for this jokester, it was now when he had to choose whether to pass on the opportunity that would otherwise bite him in the butt, for in front of and behind him is the Mother Lode. Or should I say load. Or “Mothers” of Invention. Heh heh, heh heh, Butthead, look...
Read More
  • This coulda been Vanna White’s next Big gig In The Sky, if the scaffolding was not so high. So this is how the project went, by the letters and numbers, of get Trump’s name erased from the Kennedy Center. The $250 bill might be tougher. Sad but true. So, What are there more of going on right now, wars or Trump pet construction projects?
So the wall is down. Of letters, that is. Not down by Mexico. Cemented into the concrete. Of the Kennedy Center. Where music has sat. (Near where a now defunct wrestling arena rusts in peace. Or a bloodied White House lawn. With leftover paper cups and plates, more likely bowls and small utensils, anyone?) Or more ornate than inside? A tarp the size of Pennsylvania, the predominant battle state, covers workers as they chip. So geez, how big are the letters? Four times 50 living workers high? But now none remain, or so we are told by flunkies. Or is...
Read More
  • Stressed out as a caregiver? She’s back at yah. This is a rare case of a husband and wife being joint caregivers — for each other — aided and abbetted by the fact that they have a lot of the same disabling conditions. So she shovels snow using a walker/scooter, while he cooks gingerly using a microwave and offers her a plate when she sits down, in an easy chair, in a reversal and new take on traditional roles. Whatever it takes. Necessity is the mother of invention. —– In a new add, Towns and the champion Knicks got kicked around but still got their kicks in the long run … As do Norwegian dancers.
A few years back, I wrote an article about Hudson Deacon Tom Kroll and how he did so many extra dutiful tasks, his living out the Gospels tirelessly, when his wife was ill, in addition to his regular job. I was inspired at the time to pen this, about my own lovely, disabled wife — we were separated briefly but now back together with our 40th anniversary this month, as wholehearted caregiving has many strains — and how an atypical view of standard roles, out of necessity, made things work, as far as our approach to work and home that’s...
Read More
  • He says, and goes fishing with the boys. She says, then goes to the middle of Texas, inviting her mates to a ranch/villa built for the ages. The bachelor and bachelorette parties were on the same night, but though very different, they had some things in common … like the snakes, at least three kinds, to avoid. (None with exotic dancer.) But while away, they did not avoid each other, completely. He made a phone call. —– Just added, last call included a Carolina cowpoke.
What do fishing, maybe in the dark, thus a Texas ranch, snakes of various types and do they come or stay out after dusk, eating either and only fine food or snacks, and a game of cards — likely just one each — have in common. And no strippers or Chippendales. And an only half or quarter, not full Monty. (Who is Monty anyway?) Or cowboy or cowgirl hats. Although there was some dress-up. More Barbie than boots on, I think. It’s an easy answer, connected and conflicting, but not in all or dirty ways, bachelor and bachelorette parties. One of each...
Read More
  • Full metal jacket? Hey, I wasn’t exactly to the point of going Rob Halford. But tastes aside, there must be some reason why after 26 years I was shunned, like going Bob Daisley by Ozzy at his reunion? OK, I know, my style may not have fit with the packed crowd. And the last couple of times for this, I tried to do too much with ad-libbing. So yeah, I get that this time around, I was the somewhat unusual choice to be the one left off the set list, with singers clamoring to get up there. But seriously, just being analytical of strengths and weaknesses as a singer here, no hard feelings. I’m not Dio. (Or Traveling Wilburys, a when jumping inside, inside joke.)
It was clear to me at the most recent Jeff Loven music show in Hudson, for Memorial Day weekend, that there has been a changing of the guard. The sword has been passed. New blood, like Yungblud, has been brought in. And, I must say, loyalty — amongst the devotees who travel frequently and all across the two-state area to virtually all of Jeff’s shows — has been rewarded. They are the royalty, in what just makes good business sense that I can appreciate. In a significant but not unprecedented altering of course, I was not one of those asked...
Read More
  • Songs by Napalm Death? A fire swept down my very street today, where the babies were burned. (But alas, a new A/C unit is on its way up the freeway.) The Stones did not leave these themes unturned, either, or should I say unrolled. Oh wait, this all was my cooker of an apartment, and we are not talking the kitchen. But all these matters will become more pressing, a pressure point, as the new normal especially in southern climes is temp well into the triple digits. It is these people, the third world, and their heat stroke not mine, that most concern me. (Another example of hellfire temps just added. Sin after Sin.)
Trial by fire. My broiling heart in my efficiency flat still beats a bit, in concern over those boiling over in worse apartments in a Chicago tenancy, or on an ocean island instantly-burn-your-feet beach or dessert, or forced to endure ice baths just to keep cool — or simply be offered no way to maintain an ice-dripping body other than also read a non-cookbook at the library, or select not a big steak you can’t afford but a 73/27 burger from a freezer and slap it on your forehead. Just not too hard. All these things are ones where you especially today either burn or...
Read More
Scroll to Top