Far be it from me to keep hammering like a homer on Hammerin’ Hank. But when the not-so-new news reels come calling …

I just got done phoning and/or texted my one and only brother dear, biologically speaking, about needing a new functional phone and/or fire stick, as he is the one techno one in the family.

I never wanted to be that guy who only contacted him if I needed something, but … However this case was memorable, because indeed he messaged me first!

This was back around the time Bob Uecker passed on … God rest his sarcastic soul … and I got that text from THAT guy. No not Bob, from beyond the grave, but about him, from my bro, asking if I remembered seeing this moment that he called a climatic, if only in our minds, homer that came via the bat of Henry Aaron, he of the brave who returned to our beloved Brewers after a longer-ago stint with the Braves, then in Milwaukee not Atlanta. The game was at the old County Stadium, at a quant old time when the team’s main popularity did not really go much farther than the county line on the reels, but when we drove from not far from northern Michigan that summer, it was a winner-take-all slam of grand proportions. And we were there. Sort of.

— But this is Wisconsin, home of Harvey’s Wallbangers, rather than Iowa and Field of Dreams. But at old Athletic northward Park centerfield, in Merrill, it be over 600 feet away from home plate and over a tall rock wall with spire, but in left some slamming a full 700 feet made it over the river too in back, and in either case — as in Wausau where that same river had flowed 20 miles south — a fielder might spin a full circle, on a bat head, before soggilly catching the ball for himself. —

Mother dear wanted to end our attendance early, understandable for 18 reasons below, not stretching past the seventh inning, as our home team trailed. But when Hammerin’ Hank stepped to the plate in an even later inning, there was a certain something in the air, even though we were sensing it from the car driving away, (having made it a short distance.)

At least known in our minds.

His home run was base-clearing and a game-winner for the Brew Crew. And my brother wanted to know if I recalled the moment, via a four-minute radio highlight clip he happened to stumble upon on the internet, then texted to me. Again, not to repeat as he had so many such homers, but it was Uecker who made the (main) call on play-by-play. The clip rolled on at length through the balls and strikes of the at-bat.

I texted Tom back that I vaguely recalled the moment, thinking that I might have seen it on a church youth group trip, but one such Henry home run that stuck moreso in my mind was a line drive that barely cleared the left field wall. I can recall it landed about 60 feet from the foul line that was running parallel from our prime-seat vantage point — unlike the upper tier blasts of today — and was noteworthy because of its low trajectory and still over the fence. Tom quickly texted back that righto, but that might have been from a different end of that particular doubleheader — we those days would usually take in playing two as we traveled from northern Wisconsin — since we were asking mom to sit through a pair of games.

I did ask Tom if this clip was something that was a product of his cutting and snipping of video escapades, as per capturing their recent family European vacation — and yes, oh you Chevy Chase fans, it did indeed include a long visit to Germany. (I was surprised to see that Tom knew punk rock well enough, even if in light form, to include a bit of tuneage of London Calling from The Clash in an early segment on trekking through the UK. Funky music running like Helter Skelter too. And son Matthew dancing for one of just a few specific times, after being pulled from the crowd by a man doing a stunt, and I think he was wearing lederhosen.) Tom said no, he just came across it while streaming.

I earlier chronicled a come-from-way-behind, walk-off grand slam at a recent game called one of the best ever, where we also had left around the end of the eighth inning, this time Matthew’s choice, and again heard the call over the radio, and do we see a trend here?

What a difference your sex makes. And how much more or less than with indulgent (headliner) rock stars. And how it is reported by various outlets in the news media, and not just the biggest blaring tabloid headlines. And the long arm of the legal system having been reduced to mere inches. (See a few column inches down.) By a sitting president. So we are not talking about Bill Clinton. And not his sex or sax.

President Donald Trump filed a defamation lawsuit against ABC News and its presenter George Stephanopoulos for on-air comments where he asked congresswoman Nancy Mace in an interview why she backs Trump despite him being found “liable for rape.” The joke is obvious here, he might as well have been maced. She doesn’t seem to have much of a sense of humor, however, as we will see later.

Last year, a New York civil court found Trump sexually abused E Jean Carroll in 1996.

But the jury did not find the president had actually raped her. The anchor, can I accurately call him that, should have been more vague, like grunge band Stone Temple Pilots around that same time in titleing Sex Type Thing.

The judge in the case later stated that the claim that Trump had raped Carroll was “substantially true … albeit [with his fingers] rather than with his penis.” Under New York law, rape can only be committed with genitals.

— This gets newly Wild although there’s not a big wilderness to traverse, and the XCel Energy Center, as stated, has a whole bunch of sports bars, some more prominent than others, within a few block region right adjacent to the rink, and if you travel a few dozen miles, you’re out in traditional farm country, usually sans ice.

So for hockey fans looking to hook up briefly with one of their faves, that’s not a lot of country to cover. Now a leader in that field as a fan choice, recently retired Zach Parise, is known to be cruising the various rinks in not much more than a quadrant (southwest) of the Twin Cities, going to his kids various youth hockey games. Fans are following behind, running the circuit formed by a small series of major highways, and becoming an entourage.

With Kirill Kaprizov there is less ground to peruse to keep track of him, except when he goes for offseason in Russia, but at first his English would make conversation difficult and he stuck mostly to his apartment. It did get better and he took on a girlfriend and its now becoming steady, and not just on the ice — a third access blocker for crazed local fans wanting a word with him. So there are just as many shorter-stint roadrunner routines done, as the KK, and not Dowling, breakaways on ice. His recent and latest lower body injury and subsequent surgery might end up keeping him at home sooner after various games, or if not having to shower and change after the contests, more accessible. So you have until his March 2 return … —

Carroll was awarded a sum of money for battery, and defamation over disparaging comments made by Trump when he denied her accusation.

The last March interview on ABC’s This Week program began with an archive clip of Mace, who has advocated on behalf of rape victims, talking about dealing with her own previous experience of sexual assault. A serious matter on all ends.

“You endorsed Donald Trump for president,” Stephanopoulos, a former Clinton White House spokesman, said to Mace. “Judges and two separate juries have found him liable for rape and for defaming the victim of that rape. How do you square your endorsement of Donald Trump with the testimony that we just saw?”

She also drew a distinction between sexual assault and rape, and said the allegation against Trump was not proven in a criminal court. And she alleged that Carroll had joked about the settlement. ABC News had said they settled to avoid being involved in a legal action against a sitting president, but let’s face it, chances of them winning were very high. (And the high amount given was called unusual.) But look how far Jack Smith got ….

Trump has a history of filing defamation suits against the news media, most of which have been unsuccessful.

Now what if I had said a “long” history? And that earlier, I inserted the word “actually” concerning the jury’s findings. Would he come after me?

Or, a question I put to a female friend and Trump supporter and got silence: Would you still vote for him if he groped you?

Since when is a president not considered a public figure; U.S. law says it is difficult or not impossible to libel such a figure and “actual malice” must be shown, not someone just going about their reporting business job and making an honest mistake. In this further step to silence the media and attack the likes of ABC News, MSNBC and CNN, Trump has again defied and denied existence of basic legal principles. Will I be next, I wonder, but doubt I am a big enough fish to merit.

But he can get away with such, so why not her?

I am talking about Lily Phillips, the 23-year-old — can’t be younger than 18 or in practice older than say 25 or 30 — who claims to have broken a record by having sex with more than 100 men in a 24-hour day. She has been labeled as a porn star in headlines by various news outlets that in most cases do not have the respect of those listed above.

To be an actual porn star, does not the result of your most graphic work have to be readily accessible to viewers, as in at least the infamous shot on video. And attaching the word star implies this person has high viewership. So legally, unless her FansOnly web endeavors or other such things go viral, has she not been libeled by being so labeled? It isn’t a certainty for one thing to stem from the other.

Can’t she sue just like Trump? At least the stardom of Stormy Daniels has had a more lasting effect than the 15 minutes, in working just a bit over 15 hours — were not talking only time-and-half but triple time — of fame now gained by Phillips? This form of news media will soon forget about her exploits and go exploit someone else with its news coverage, probably less willing.

To be clear, Phillips is in some part of the “adult industry” and has been photographed appearing in a dress, not undress, at the adult video awards, but it is not clear in which category or if just a presenter. OnlyFans has a lot of nudity, and although straddling a line and may be vague, prohibits on-camera antics such as sexual intercourse, that might be considered illegal or now with new rules even immoral. Granted, they can’t control what models do in their off time and it might be niave to think they don’t stray from the rules. Phillips reportedly filmed her stunt, but it is not clear if it was “published” per se, and that is a requirement for libel. The existence of the stunt came to light via a documentary, and she may have had porn offers since then that are too lucrative to turn down. It may be a matter of what came first. Any such thing she may have done has remained under the radar, or has ramped up in recent weeks, based on a google search. At issue, potentially, is on what date the headlines invoking “porn star” actually appeared. Considering all the adult videos that flood the ever-changing market, of all types, many prosecutors might relish being tasked with the job of “discovery.”

Their behavior invoked, it is unlikely Phillips would get much public sympathy, but Trump won’t or shouldn’t either. But all this raises another question: Is someone showcased in racy Cinemax-style movies, a “porn star.” They more typically are termed as being in “erotic thrillers.” Yes, we may be talking about splitting hairs here — although that’s the case also with the suit brought by Trump — and perhaps my query depends on who, which side, is the legal burden of proof. The work done by Phillips on OnlyFans may even increase.

Move on now to the lawsuit brought by actress Blake Lively in her alleged on-set sexual victimization. A friend of mine, a man, said this of that: What does she expect when shooting a racy movie? A point to be made, but now I have this one to add: For example, if your co-star is supposed to be in a steamy dance with you and the camera is just going to be on your two faces, it is not justified to grab her butt. 

At the place at which I asked him that question, a longtime local bartender has said that a former Cinemax actress used to come in for a drink on that one weeknight she had off. But the guy is cool and I doubt would have asked her about her on-screen work, much less touch her.

I’ve got a grab bag, again, of observations from Valentine’s Day, as we desire to gain in a desirable way that which we desire, but just don’t get her only a grab bag. Put something desirable in it. Or consider making it a small, or bit bigger, box. The Never Ending Story.

A guy pulls into The Nearest Store With V-Day Stuff Or It Will Be D-Day. Like if you forgot her B-Day. He grabs a card quickly, without reading much of it, just enough to know it will pass muster. Sweats a bit as it’s 1:26 p.m. The card, not the one being purchased, but the credit one to pay for the one being purchased, isn’t working. Whew. Then like the magic of the holiday, it’s approved, not necessarily yet by her, but by the key component of the transaction. He motions early with his hand toward the machine to pull it out and get going, but like the Hand Of Doom the Remove Card button just wouldn’t Busta Move. When it finally did, maybe prompted by something like the traction grid at the intersection that gives you a green when risking death and you creep forward and thus sit on it, he made the card(s) grab instantly, Like One Who Knows, and doesn’t want to be a Heartbreaker … Whew again.

This intersections into something my driver has taken to love, one of his online videos. It showed an out there babe he has been following — only online and just viewing her videos — and her preference for pink and white striped flooring, “like a carpet puked.” Do you like the colors, honey? Honey …This is where the experts, on relationships, driven to explain these things, give the same answer to the question of when she asks, I think she looks better than me. Do you agree? Say as little as possible, young man.    

— A last gasp if you still have not met your Valentine’s Day obligations, as this is the season of Red Alarm, or maybe only 3 on the heat scale, chili contests to warm your cackles and her heart and thus your soul, and could that not also melt the snow out in Malibu so it could be diverted into rivers that are further diverted over many acres to put out wildfires? No word on the mudslides. The grand-daddy of such chili contests takes place at Dick’s Bat starting at 1 p.m. Sunday. But based on what the bouncer said there last night, all the size-of-a-nightstand cooking or just maybe reheating spots over three rooms have been taken, so even if you have that killer new recipe to impress her centering on kale-basted-pickle-fried smelt, all that’s left to do is sample the many other entries. But will the roaming judge, as they all do that, still have the old-British-looks-like-white-ropes hairpiece, as in colonial times, as we are going back to that conquest era fast? —

— And there does seem to be some dissatisfaction with The Old Guard of been-in-there-forever circuit court judges, based on the turning out of candidates for last night’s election. And this was only the primary, the first of two. (And there was That School Board Thing also, at both the state and local level, and in a right society that would also attraction attention.)

So the signs have been out and about. Support who and diss who. There were for example, the big and bad almost billboard-size signs for James Johnson, a veteran of the local attorney scene, with those depictions of justice in the form of scales of justice taking up space, glaring at you, staring at you. They didn’t seem to help, as justice is blind and he did not win the contest and be the very top dog, thus one of three. Like in Metallica’s infamous album (back in the day) cover showing a blindfolded statue of liberty. Other signs, for Board of Education, showed things like check marks, pencils and stars. As it was, this primary election only attracted voters in the thousands, not tens of thousands. And with the election only in the books for far less than a day, there was a drapery of a sign posted over a metal fence that pumped up to-be turnout for another such April election, still coming.) —

Ah yes, on the 14th. But what if it was on the 15th? Will she cut you a bit of slack just past midnight? At my Kwik Trip, a cool V-Day special awaits your loved one, via you — as it says, will you be mine — via the killer convenience store. Buy one of a certain few things for her and get something free for her via the 15 visits-as-put-on-your-rewards-card. But then will she no longer be yours, if you try to visit on the 16th? How many are your numbers as per shades of gray, not pink?

You might not make it to Day 17, if you’ve botched this one up. At a local store, its candy special is billed as super sweet, as may be so at first glance. But then there’s these that don’t exactly say love, at least to her, and you don’t want to be a tool: A tool box with (kick) stand and other guy hardware although she can do it too, mongo man’s sweatshirt, guy grub and other gear, and stuff like mop and bucket.

Maybe that’s what he did. An open ended story follows. His frustrated wife put a coffee mug on his face, as it was written, and said to be done. As in a lower form of chuck it onto your cheeks. Just a note: If you’re going to get in his face like that, make sure it’s not decaf as that would not have the same (deathly) sting. Maybe substitute Liquid Death?

So what do you and I really know about Elon Musk, the pseudo-president and ultra businessman, space traverser and South American, god and geek.

There is a lot to say and more of it bad, but some good too, and if you were to pick this interloper’s cabinet it would tell more.

Cut, slash and burn people’s jobs and lives. Yes, as I and others have said for eons, there is waste everywhere in Washington and beyond, and in whole departments but no, not necessarily whole agencies. Especially if you have to make alliance for your boss, it probably gets as bad and specific as ad hocking without bidding private pork hocks onto every government convention menu in the land known as the Midwest, to benefit one little ol’ but well connected (not to Musk) pig farmer in one of the Dakotas. At prime rate paid. OK, not an actual example of pork-barreling, but you get the point. It gets that broad and ranging, and everyone’s pocketbook is hit. But this kind of thing is a Musk must hit target.

But give kudos to Musk for being in businesses and seeing that there is a problem and trying to do something about it. We all have had those many experiences, just for starters, where the same basic information was given and taken more than once, and by different methods, where one would have sufficed if there was more efficiency. But what’s called for there is tweaking, not throwing the baby out with the bathwater, or gutting an entire agency.

The further point is that for every such crimp stopper Musk and his mites snuff out, there are several that for too many reasons to name here that even he will never be able to touch. Every politician, and that’s what Musk is or has become, says they will tackle Washington inefficiency, and every politician eventually and inevitably fails. So you do the truest best you can, and call it good, but don’t bet your entire agenda on it — such as economic growth coming out of nowhere will fix all our problems — or there for sure will be no second term or second chance to fix all that waste that didn’t wane. For either Musk or Trump. And have a little compassion for those lifer corporate-government workers who are depending on that pension.

Then back to the latest gaffe of the week or even day, that being the goof-up take on racism by The Two concerning South Africa. Specifically on the new government plan to take back your rich white man farmer land and redistribute some of it to black farmers. Black people reportedly make up 80 percent of the country’s population but only 4 percent of private landowners.

So Musk and his men, Trump among them, are pulling out of the plan, saying this disenfranchises white farmers. There may be some of that, but let’s back up.

If there is to be such a plan, some of the money fleeced from black farmers over centuries should be used to carefully vett the program and who gets what. I am sure that much of the landowning is an, if slightly scaled back version, JR Ewing corporate model and thus pity them. Those, and not the average family farmer, should be the people the government program targets.

I will give this to Musk and his take on the inefficiency of bureaucracy, that there may be some smaller, white sharecropper-types that get stung in the process.

I will now address that whole thing of White Power salutes; you might add on those shown by the older-day Black Panthers. There are about two, or three things, at work here: White or Black or Power. They can be separately taken. Like when Phil, the lead singer of metal pounders Pantera struck such a pose, at a poignant point near the end of an all-out rocker. It could be that a fist is simply a show of power, and an embracement, of any type of unusually strong (and maybe not altruistic) sentiment and nothing more. Especially if done spontaneously, like when being in-the-moment like Phil. Musk may or may not have had time to plan or reconsider before thrusting.

So with Musk … Is he straight up racist? I would almost for sure say prompting white privilege.

That cabinet …

So who should he hire to help him? A planner and strategist, someone who takes a fleeting idea or raw concept and turns it into a full-blown, workable plan. A PR hack, who can take some of his more far-flung ideas and spin them for a semblance of sense. And a personal presence coach, to show a better grip and grin, and less geekishness.

And make him more of a rock star.

What’s hot stays hot. Including the Super Bowl. So then there was that one nun, you know, the one I’ve talked about who got the name of the Philly team wrong and thought it was a small dog, not a Big Dawg that was let out. Or was it Cincy? I’m guessing the first since her (B)Eagles are still Stayin’ Alive and Flyin’ High Again and High as Heaven. (Like Mary Jane these days.) And now to complete the joke, the Bengals now are has-beens — like the Chiefs? And as things go in cycles, possibly soon Taylor Swift too (and beau? Or will he renew?) But their end is still tight …

This one, not so much so. (Old) news from one of my other Holy Friends. There was a balloon, actually a blimp, over The Big Game that dragged a banner backing inclusion and diversity. But apparently it’s not big enough for that, as with the presence of Trump, it was ordered taken down. So she boycotted the game. As in have none.

Back back to more hot air, as in the Hudson Affair. Which will be back again early next February.

Staying Alive takes a lot of effort, like putting colored checkers on a hot air balloon canvas — and you can paint those too — to resemble disco-ball-type sparkles. Or kinda like shoveling snow but much better. Of course there is much more than music, (which was profiled in the post below), to Staying Alive in 2025! There are a full 38 separate semi-events listed for the Hudson Hot Air Affair, spelled out and slated out in not skated out in this winter event, in pink capital letters.

— Overnight into Monday morning, crews will be showcasing not their football analysis, but in a backwards way their teardown skills as they remove Super Bowl merchandising. As this is a commercial-driven event. At Walmart, for example, the late advertising forming a second entryway by the front door featured another gateway of sorts, a goalpost shaped rendition of boxes of potato chips and Pepsi. But don’t they know that the crossbar is the lowest, not highest-horizontal-running bar, in forming this big-box-shape of stacked boxes, metaphorically and otherwise? Dunk height, to mix sports.

I had taken a cab to get to this last place of buying madness, arrving just before gametime, as the two AAA batteries in my TV remote had run out. Small but powerpacking. Also got some chips and trail mix and beef jerky, turkey-based this time, and — yuck for this day? — cranberry juice too. I was going to duck into Green Mill and check out the first quarter, but I figured things would not be just ducky there, and the place was probably packed. The cabbie concurred, saying that I was and is his last running fare of the day. —

There are of course the three signature balloon launches, weather permitting of course and we’re expecting at least some ice baby — but there are plenty of other activities to provide melting — where more than three dozen will be perched on the ground and waiting to go, burners on. They occur around dawn on Saturday and Sunday morning, (set for 7:35 a.m. if you’re counting), and 3 p.m. on Saturday.

This is important: The launches are this year at a different location, as in a different school, this one just south of town. And the only parking there is for disabled — people not their cars — others must take a shuttle, so don’t wait until the last minute if you’re lingering at something (such as the traditional smoosh boarding set for 1 p.m. on the other end of the playground) for such comedy/competition/chaos as hey, four boards are not too many for eight feet, and oh that’s a weekend band! The actual site for the balloons to crest is the River Crest School.

Don’t forget the torchlight parade at 7 p.m. at this time, the same downtown site and route, with dozens of glowing and glaring gonzo floats to entice you.

And all weekend long, the event is driven by the Eat-Shop-Play promotion at Hudson and its area businesses, shops, run destinations and restaurants and nightspots, across more than one commerce district. A few dozen of these. There are coupons on the event flyer. And there is also the accompanying Sippin’ With The Hotties beverage crawl, with liberal loads of locally-created libations to sample, loaded or NA, and you can vote for your favorite and get a chance at a gift certificate — to come back for more, close to a dozen’s worth.

For example, Pedro’s Pizza Lounge invites you to try their Hot Buttered Rum, and if you order a big enough pizza, (see more about pizza and the Super Bowl below), as the Hot Air Affair like Texas goes big, you get a free glass of wine or beer. (Pedro’s is going out of its way, as it normally specializes in small plates.)

For more info, especially on the shuttle service, see HudsonHotAirAffair.com.

To spread out, and along the lines of diverse activities, musically, check out the genre-bending (about three or four kinds) band The Wilderness (much more than kill deer) at the Gaslite in Ellsworth on Saturday evening, profiled earlier on these pages.

— But with The Big Game coming, said thus for copyright reasons, you can go pizza, but maybe even more with produce, as they go together, with taco too. At County Market, there are four big bins right when you walk in the door, and they are telling. There are of course limes and avacados, (as when mixed with tequila, get your margaritas before tariff time), and also purple onions, (not lighter colors), and tomatos, (the red more than green bell pepper shaped kind.) Note the presence of Purple and Green in such bins, but those Minnesconin teams will not be playing Sunday. And as for the Gold shared by both squads, there are no lemon bins up front either, or yellow peppers.)

But on The Tube at the sports bar, there were more pizza ads, like at The Hut where you’ve never seen so many mounds of cheese (we are in Wisconsin) and pepperoni and the like and I’m guessing we’re talking at least three pies for a special price — but they were already being crowded out by admonishments for that materialistic holiday of holidays, Valentine’s Day. And online being floated by Fleet Farm, you could see specials on all related things such as garbage bags, pizza ovens and frozen pizza too, and even easy chairs if your spouse is the one sticking it in.

Meanwhile, across town we have just in time for all of the above celebrations, winter sales and such, winter frosty hair creations being hawked, and yes the winter market (made up in part by my Winter family?) at The Phipps Center from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. Saturday, as not to compete with the Hot Air Affair events. There are also two more on Saturdays in March, third and fifth. —

Mountains of mini-balloons, some with hundreds or more of sparkly things adorning them, are Stayin’ Alive in 2025 as they started appearing around town right after New Year’s, which is in itself the queen of sparkle. Just check out, and claim your steak, the front window(s) at Bennett’s Chop and Railhouse, and other event sponsors.

You can see that influence, like an Old School supper club vibe, as mentioned below, in the theme ala theme of an event that’s being redone now 40 or so times running. Via like Steve Vai — who also recently played Wisconsin — bands who have been there, done that.

So, it is that time of year again, for the regionally-crucial Hudson Hot Air Affair ballooning event of the winter, like we needed to tell you that, although the temps have been very mild at some times, and if the breeze matches, it will thereby bode well for, again, their 40 or so envelopes to go postal and deliver with actual launches. We’ll see if the skies agree, and reveal a disco ball, all this coming weekend.

Again, this year’s theme is an oldie but goodie. And it’s where the glitz comes in. It’s a simple theme, actually, just Stayin’ Alive in 2025. You might need their help for that, these days.

To wit, the old Empourium in the town of Hudson across from the iconic truck stop brings back the heyday of Hudson rock ‘n’ roll — country too — with the solid, legendary and longtime band Austin Healy, for a Saturday night after-glow as in the Moonglow-shot-and-show, after all the ballooning events are done for the early evening. They play the various old and new sub-genres of country music, even as it crosses into rock, like they’d never missed a rehearsal, going back to the days of George Strait. This is a venue that more and more people are making it a point to check out, hello decades-back-Hastings Tom and crew, with its big ballroom, and make it a renewed and party part of their music-taking-in rotation.

Austin Healy has covered numerous country rock songs online — and don’t forget Dirty White Boy by Foreigner — and then there was a couple of years ago, with Have U 8 Yet, with no vocals (unusual for them) and complex grooves right off the bat and sustained. It smacks of Once Bitten, Twice Shy, and as for Foreigner, that song is and has been in my head lately.

Dick’s Bar and Grill has a relatively new deejay — so if you were at the balloon fest last year there is something new to check out — helping build a brand new clientele, both Friday and Saturday night, and he gets by with a little help from his (dancing) friends, under the lights shaped a bit like balloons. He specializes in urban-style dance music such as hip-hop and rap and funk and more until its doors shut, as many as six of them, and there is crossover as you may hear Eminem meet Twenty Dollars in my Pocket. You can check your cross necklace at the door.

The Smilin’ Moose Lodge Bar and Grill offers quality deejay music, which has old standbys a lot, in keeping with a Way Back theme, and such accompanying entertainment every weekend, and the party always keeps on running in the manner of a late last call. They also get the party started, on Thursday evening with karaoke, one of the longest lasting stints for such that’s running right now in Hudson.

But no one can challenge the karaoke run, going on for many years straight if you discount a brief hiatus during the pandemic, at Hudson Bowling Center in a much more intimate setting via the plaza lounge. It’s Saturday starting at (around) 9:30 p.m. all around the arch at mid-bar range, and entailing many flashy singers in an area directly opposite the alleys, open too.

Ziggy’s Hudson has music every day of the week, except maybe some Monday, often in the lower level with smaller and tighter groups, and up top with full bands among the lumber on weekends. Going on this weekend are Coconut Tiger on Friday night and Pop Syndrome on Saturday night.

Big Guys BBQ Roadhouse, just north of the village, and the Willow River Saloon over west in Burkhardt, also have bands in full stature on the days that constitute the weekend, both using a raised platform to push up the stage. And both have that roadhaus feel.

At Big Guys, the band known by Let ‘Er Rip will rip through it on Friday night, with the group 8-Foot-4, which always seems to make a showing at such festivals, going on Saturday.

Shift across-country to the Willow River Inn in Burkhardt — and also if early on the adjoining Carbone’s Pizza — with the old gents of Rizer. Not Rise Against. There is no word on what might be happening on Saturday, with the Super Bowl coming … 

Hop N Barrel Brewing Company offers some of the earliest music in the weekend, from 7-9 p.m. Friday, in the form of Sten Carlson with a Scandinavian vibe. Then get up early the next morning for not just the balloon launches, but a bean bag contest operated indoors, a rarity, in the big back room. Signup is around 10 a.m. with tossings starting at noon. They continue to roll out new craft brews regualrly with parties on that kind of theme, and new to their big front window right now are vibish signs for Zorro Rojo, showing a ranger cat with weapon, and Dock’s, an IPA being held by a man wearing baseball hat, sunglasses and T-shirt.

Other event sponsors in the nightclub realm include, also across-country are Cheap Andy’s Saloon in Hammond and related Nutty Squirrel Sports (again) Saloon, and back in Hudson, Jonesy’s Local Bar and Grill, and downtown, Lucky Guys Distillery and Pedro’s Pizza Lounge.

The Great Bambino hits a homer in passing muster. But how about his near-namesake with darker skin? Or the now ruler of this great land, and his scorecard, omnipresent on the course although not omniscient, even though it’s early.

Ask your elders.

One, to start, after tuning out Fox News, referenced hearing a song, over and over in her head, playing on and on. The one with “Frito Bandito.” I think that’s from a commercial. No Flying Burrito Brothers band. And definitely not Amigo Diablo, a group referenced earlier and often on these pages.

Is Frito Bandito, ethnicity-wise, even legal? Or deported. And dare you reference him positively without being shot?

— The Frito Bandito song, it was told in a further conversation, came into her brain when she was walking in the snack section going out the door at a local retail store, you know with the Super Bowl coming. With that, I reference other songs, coming via Valpak of Minneapolis-St. Paul, which does not have a team in the Bowl but does have the support of the Hudson Hot Air Affair, also in early February. These are found in the continuation of Mick Sterling presents On Stage At The Freight House live music and dinner series: Heart and Soul, the songs of Huey Lewis and the News, on Feb. 6; no band on Feb. 7; a tribute to Heart, from Cate Fierro and Katie Gearty, on Feb. 12; Vintage Vegas, tunes of Sinatra, Bennet, Garland and Sammy, on Feb. 13; From Barry, the pop songs of Barry Bigg and The Bee Gees, on Feb. 14; Anthony Shore as Elvis, on Feb. 20; and a special show, the legendary GB Leighton, on Feb. 23.

Then there was THAT question/conversation with THAT bartender about THAT game late on last Sunday Funday, just when is/was THAT game again. This past Sunday or the Sunday coming? A promo/review on THAT sports channel at close to midnight referenced the game, then said to be played Sunday around 11 p.m. EST. Again one which? Like my old sports copy editor used to say on a weekly newspaper, always put in an actual date, not just day of week. It later goes online, you know. —

A relative older than I, took a shot at the fact that according to Trump International Law, going backwards, the country that is Mexico could take back Arizona, New Mexico, much of California (if they want it) and parts of Texas (not without a gunfight.) A response came from a younger man who works in the trades, a Trumpster, but maybe the only one or two at the table who knew this was a result from the War of 1812. Right year? Also technically, and I am not a historian, but I do believe that the states were not just given up by Mexico, that they were ceded or taken in some other not willful action. In any case, they were obtained in a forceful way, like someone would in colonization. (Great Britian taking-territories-by-the-dozen style, and so many England rock bands bite the hand that feeds them and rail against it, taking a pass on being prim and proper on princes and princesses.) As did the old local band that actually was more than a cover act and wrote their own lyrics, The Amish Armada.

Which brings a further point: Does President Trump not want to stop at The Americas, and eventually conquer and rule the world? (And space?) It seems that his wish list (that may be all it is) land grabs of greater Greenland and the much smaller Panama Canal, or Canada, are not the end of his lust, and he has said that he is after, I will call it, territorialization. All power politicians are seeking such conquest.

It does appear that Trump knew what he was doing in threatening to apply tariffs if one or more countries would not allow a landing of a flight with deportees. They backed down and allowed the plane to hit the runway with runaways. Send singer Warren Zevon with lawyers, guns and money. Trump bullied them into acceptance. If that’s how it’s done, even allegedly on my behalf, maybe I don’t want it done.

A moment of clarity came from her, a bishop, (yes that’s right, a she), when she confronted Trump about why with all his many forceful actions, there is no mercy. Also asking is ZZ Top with their buzz phrase, “have mercy.”

There was the response of The Dons, those younger ones, just a (blank) stare. Trump himself looked irked.

As might The Evil One himself, who also wants to reign over all of the world, and all of creation also. Some have suggested that Trump not Kamala Harris or Mick Jagger, metaphorically, could be Satan. How so? Let’s break it down, theologically.

And for you Christians out there who might take issue with my analysis, I think that though not a Bible scholar I am on pretty solid ground, as most of you don’t really know what’s in your Bible. And hey, maybe I don’t either. But like a good metal band, I don’t pretend to have all the answers, but I do know the questions.

First of all, it’s hard to find a place in the Bible where Satan is described as pure evil, or even overtly evil. That was introduced later by thinkers such as Martin Luther and his lyric “the old evil foe,” who brings “deep guile.” The Bible does say that Satan is an (ultimate) liar and deceiver, (and bully), in his power struggle with God to possess the universe. Sound like a politician, or maybe more than one, you know? And why does a leader or Lucifer need to use deceit. Simple. Their agenda can’t stand on its own, without being presented in a devious way, since after all, they do not have game, or a real game plan. So for criticizing their lack of an agenda, Game On.

And what does the Bible say about the ignorant? Not bliss. It is not always kind. The Bible is full of caustic references about the wise man and as a counterpoint, the fool, and it doesn’t cut them a lot of slack. Back to our more astute elders and their Bible: When I was a child I had the ways of a child … But now as an adult …

So act like one.

So with all that said, where are all the immediate solutions that have long been promised? Problems disposed of on Day One? The wars rage on. The cost of goods and housing has not gone down. Maybe this is why He has not ever really said just how He would do things. (No agenda to speak of that would fix things, other than deceit.) Just all things Trump, good or evil.

Married to the Packers? So much so that your wedding day was on a Sunday Funday weekend, when they just happened to be playing at home? So the town was full up, and it proved hard to book a hotel for guests, easier to get to the church, and rather we had to check out an air b ‘n’ b. Even though the bride works for one of the dozen-or-so it seems, banquet-hall-type-places that also fill the square mile that holds Lambeau Field, so the location of her reception was as much a no-brainer as going for a two-point-conversion when down by two. But with her, however, no b ‘n’ b connections. I guess that was shown by the fact, that a sign greeted all those going to a super-big-time wedding reception … but that was for a different bride and groom.

To muddy the marrying waters further, my brother drove up to Green Bay with me and the gang from Milwaukee, after I first had long-haul taken the bus to his southeast part of the state, from my west-central home, to meet up with them all Friday afternoon. Got all that?

And that one more crucial step, oh yeah, somewhere in the process my brother had gained comp tickets for us for the Green Bay Packer Hall Of Fame Through All The Decades Of The NFL And Before It Was The NFL, et al. As I would see, my father’s house, since he was a Packer fan too, has many rooms, not just a hall. So before the wedding reception started nearby, guess where we ventured to.

And as I had rummaged through these rooms in the journey of my life — I’m starting to sound like the omnipresent in both the spiritual and on-field Aaron Rodgers, but more on that later — one thing that struck and stuck was how my nephew bested my one hand by a full two feet in measuring the height of a legitimate inside-from-the-cold Lambeau Leap. I’ll spell that out more soon.

For starters at The Hall Of Fame, was redeem those vouchers, so you could go vouch for the Packers fame, completed and initiated with a stand in line of the many colors of Green and Gold, and some White, too, as that’s the melding of all colors and also Reggie’s name. So forget the Silver and Black. This is the Black and Blue. I joked a bit on the many sources of such football fodder available, with the worker who was going to take at least one of our tickets, time spent at his booth since he then directed us back to the main line which led into the ticket stands inside — another room.

Past Pack picks

This gave me plenty of time to reminisce about this being the first time I’d been back to again, Lambeau et al. in a long time. Since say the ’70s. Ah those years when the Pack could not sack anyone, and often not even gain that many yards.

But in the second of my two sightings inside the famous oval stadium, the Packers rammed it down the throat of the San Diego Chargers with a great passing game that scored into the 30s, with us being in the front row, like the just passed Bob Uecker, at the 40 yard line. So members of the soon-to-be-made-defunct Chargers came past and harassed us, then would stand not be on one (bended?) knee in order to block our vision of everything but a TD pass on an Old School zig zag, like you used to do in our big backyard, in the corner of the end zone. Ramble on, going there …

The first contest was when they faced the dreaded Bears, who to get to Lambeau probably ran on some of the same highway we did, and we watched that time from near the top row in the back of the end zone — not front or the corner — beyond where kicked footballs go.

But at this time, the Lambeau oval was relatively small, with a capacity of about 55,000 and a long waiting list for tickets. And also, no hall of fame or banquet facilities to visit if you were frozen out of tickets.

But with this year’s playoffs around the corner, now we stood in line again, not to get a seat but a walk-through pass, and I said to one, for the first of three times, then others in our group, I was extraordinarily interested in where they would place my fave BIG GB QB of all their many greats, Lynn Dickey. This was back during one of those times in the NFL when throwing for 400 yards and scoring 40 points was not unusual. I would ask this question because he was not shown until way in the back forty of the hall. Represented in just the form of a single football he might have thrown. Though it’s molded and welded into silver, like hundreds of those provided here in the decisions made by the Green Bay upper brass. They had to sell lots of tickets, for games and hall, to pay for all those formerly thrown big balls, in their current big ball they now throw every day of the week, displayed between its many walls.

And those walls just kept on coming, as we rounded corners. At first our five-person party ventured around a first main room, big enough to be impressive on its own, and I at that point thought, that’s all she wrote as far as the scope of the hall. Boy was I wrong.

You rounded the corner, then entered another big room, and another, and another. And near the end you saw that there was yet another floor, a second one just as big to view. It just kept on coming, like a Reggie White bull rush.

Dickey and Majik?

But still no Dickey, I ain’t lyin’ about this. Or yet also, my second choice for favorite quarterback, The Majik Man, he of at least one magic hand. We also had to wait a bit for the obligatory Favre featurette. And then Rodgers? He didn’t show up early or big. This was about the wins here and now and Jordan Love, too, as the lowdown on this, their prime marketing strategy, is basically brilliant. Use it to promote sale of tickets for the games currently slated, too.

So the first room or two was about, what are we doing for you lately. The other rooms and adjuncts were on themes, beating some of them to death, piling on in a very good way, with all the written words by the hundreds supplied to back up each icon.

Even though heat rises, it was up top that we discovered the Ice Bowl room. This was a ball. People were encouraged to sit, so they would keep their seat and not venture away, rather than stand as the entire game with commentary played through, until you got to that climatic moment. Seeing that Old School black and white footage was worth the wait. And we all knew ahead of time what the happy ending would be.

One of the last things seen before exiting is the very long hall within a hall, where lines of three-tiered glass cases held those silver footballs and/or helmets signifying the careers of all the greats who had ever won honors such as all-pro. There were hundreds, and the space at the end was starting to fill up, so they might have to had on if there is another set of Super Bowl rings to embrace.

This was the climax of everyone wondering if their favorite Packer moment, or player, would make the cut. These thousands of clips and memorabilia all seemed to be squeezed in somewhere, if even very nearing the end, leaving no one at wit’s end.

Lap that leap

But there was also that Lambeau Leap meter, where you could test your vertical jump vs. a pole with horizontal arms to strike with your hand at each inch, starting very small and going up to about 12 feet. My tall nephew, who could have just starting playing small college basketball, but instead chose the University of Wisconsin-Madison and co-rec leagues, went first and scored 10-and-a-half feet. I was eager to try, but our group moved on. I later managed to split off and double back, as I was excited but also more than a bit apprehensive about the challenge, since I could — just barely — dunk a basketball when I was in college.

So, I tried. Twice. And only registered 8-and-a-half feet! I told anyone in the family who would listen that felt I had embarrassed myself.

I thought geez, they invested some money into this hall. But there is an answer to that. The official Green Bay Packer Pro Shop, that goes way beyond golf.

There was every kind of good you could imagine, just with a Packer logo emblaze on it. Some prices were reasonable, some outrageous. They even mixed sports. Does someone really need something like a Packer golf umbrella? Or a Green Bay truck, and not from a local dealer, that has pasted on its driver’s side window, do not sit inside. (Or test drive it out of this “showroom.” I think we could have figured that.) Next to the payload, a man took his chances and yelled out “Go Colts” in invoking the opponent of the next day. Fortunately, since this was before game time, no one had quaffed enough beer to punch his lights out and end his pony show.

Our group swung around the corner and there was — another even bigger room, collectively almost as big as another football field. Too much. As we wandered out a man heard a quip from one of my family members, about that truck for sale and how it could cost some people their annual salary, and he wanted a picture of them and was talkative beyond the two-minute warning.

So, to this point there had been no November Rain. It had held off for most of this October wedding, fittingly, until toward its end, as this needn’t be a Packers-will-play-in-the-mud overall experience. Then it started coming down as we had seen the 11 men and things were now trekked toward the 11th month.

It is fitting that this is a threesome, inauguration day, Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and the remembrance of the death of a dear friend and colleague and supporter, pastor Dan Bruch, who fought tirelessly even into his later years for social justice, against odds.

But unfortunately, this time around might more accurately and currently, MLK might stand for Mein Latest Kampf.

But back to Bruch. I first got to know him when he was named a pastor of the local Missouri Synod church, Trinity Lutheran. It came up quite prominently when I was writing the obligatory new pastor story for the local paper, for which he would later write a longtime column on ethics and more, that he had earlier been brought up for heresy charges while working at another church. He had dared to advocate for ordination of women. That at the time got you clubbed in the MSLC, and I know this firsthand, as it is the church I was born and raised into.

But after “retirement,” Bruch started the still running and long existing Purple Tree store downtown — billed as perhaps the coolest shop in town — which famously sold ethically and justly raised and rooted and sustainable and Fair Trade items.

— Hey, it felt like 34 below. Still, the bartender at Hudson Tap last night was expecting more people than the handful she had, as what else could they be doing, besides sleeping, on a night like this? Pipes might freeze, and then thaw again massively when warmer weather returns in just a couple of days, and other rare concerns were mentioned in passing. But out of the streets, sidewalks were slick with what appeared to be frost affixed to the concrete. A plastic Frosty the Snowman figure was, how to say it, even more frosty. And the window at a downtown cigar den was caked with icy frost, so hey, crank up those cigars for heat’s sake. This is not blowing smoke. —

But these days, the times they are changing. So we view a what-if, worst case scenario, if at times there is an escalation in a deportation manhunt. Firepower is brought in for capture, even if they are crooks. This is D-day for deportation of immigrants, some said to have varying levels of criminal activity. As a new prez steps in today using lockstep, and for all we know, since Trump has pledged to bring the military in, so though be it this abomination will likely not bring bombs, one does have not-too-paranoid visions of how extreme it could go in rounding-up the bad asses. With just maybe, if this eventually is allowed to go too far, an occasional tank running amok and aMusk on some back streets. (Its happened before, albeit mostly in other parts of the world.) Chasing and searching and spying for the alleged bad guys. Or other overt action using military tactics, all in the name of conducting the most severe forms of our deportation, and maybe being dangerous to innocent neighbors. If you don’t believe my vision, check out one the depictions of the late ending sequences of War Pigs by Black Sabbath, the official video. Also, the Doo Doo Doo Heartbreaker video by the Rolling Stones, about ’60s cops running amok with guns, with footage showing them going tightly to the wall, door to door and window to window, seeking out in a stealthy way those largely black anti-war protestors, and hunting and trolling.

But if it does come to tanks being used in the witch-hunt — OK even Trump would hesitate to go that far — who is going to foot the bill for the damage they could do to local streets and other property? Again, back to the Stones and Gimme Shelter, a protest about the Vietnam War, a fire rushing down my very street today, pointing out that while we sit in our often pristine houses, there are those slaving away for a better life that still has not come, who have now seen an end to their American Dream.

But back to tank tactics, and the way they could destroy infrastructure with their series of wheels — and not like the River Falls guy I profiled who ran about the north end of town with his hobby tank — I can somewhat see an emergency meeting of various City Councils to pony up significant funds to cover street damage, and not by horses or cars or people or even monster trucks, but where tanks turned blacktop into gravel. Maybe such a repair effort, if necessary in the name of justice for those living on such streets, might hypothetically even be prompted in an irony by Sarah Bruch, council member and daughter of Dan, with the torch passed, but even this measure would likely require yet another referendum to OK funds. School funding via such budget drainage might suffer, and forget putting to vote building and paying for more jails to house all those Trump wants to round up.

It should be noted that just because the military gets involved does not necessarily mean there will be tanks rumbling through parking lots here and there. But given Trump’s hardline stance shown in scores of ways, and the fact that he has been quoted across multiple sources saying he would use military assets to the fullest extent he can under the law — and it is these laws that he is re-creating — or he get away with, it paints an anything’s possible scenario for use of force, especially if his initial efforts do not pan out as he is certain they will. So he ramps it up and becomes more hardline. Trump reportedly has told troops that in response to unruly demonstrations, for example, “crack skulls,” and shoot with massive firepower. Of concern is that such directives were given in his first term to be an immediate response to looting, a crime against property and not necessarily harming people, the latter of which would seem to bring an even harsher action. Trump has said much the same as far as actions taken with even those protesting largely peacefully.

One wonders if there will be deferential treatment for those who were originally illegal immigrants who are now in high places, and maybe even cronies of Trump. Such as those now running big companies, who I get it might hide behind interlocking — that you for that insight Robert Conant — boards of directors. Or for star sports players in any of the bigger leagues or other types of entertainers, as say hey, the football playoffs, pro not as much as college, are upon us. Don’t you think there will be civil challenges, further backlogging an already clogged court system, some of them taking the form of massive protection filings, by those who have the means, protagonist or antagonist. Constitutional scholars will likely weigh in, sometimes with the courts, and some of them are beholden to Big Business and its Bureaus. The little guy gets the shaft, in part because he can’t afford an expensive lawyer.

OK, I went “off the rails” a bit there. But here are practicalities. Say you want to order that cool pizza or Mexican or other food from the people of multiple ethnicities who really know how to bake it. Come today they might have their doors shuttered, or even crow-barred shut, as the workers and maybe even the owner of the business have been sent packing. So tip these working poor well while you can. Extra towel service at your motel, or press your pants? Same concern. And maybe forget having OJ served with motel breakfast, and somebody has to pick them, and with climate change they might not be there for picking anyway.

And if there are “intensive” searches, will a landlord have to pay for a broken down window or door. Trump’s not gonna help. Oh yeah, they’re likely slum lords anyway. So just bring in the cold. But the good news is if you work for a company that specializes in barbed wire fencing, the border situation might bring you a lot more orders. But will the financial bombardment trickle down? And Musk may be given a monopoly for space machines.

And oh yeah, our already stretched military will also have a couple of wars to end — today. Yes, methinks that with this abomination, there might be a few more bombs blasting, but then gridlock. So why do we not employ those immigrants looking for work by giving them a gun? After all, it’s a question of, why do we always send the poor? Thank you for that analysis System of a Down. And maybe Musk can, from space, blow up all the bad guys. But if they are of the wrong ethnicity, there might not be “re-entry.”

Sunday in the pews

What did the majority of the diverse group of faith leaders say about all this yesterday, in services. I can see the evangelicals trying to spin their stance on the aggression and have it both ways, while assumingly Muslim, Buddhist and Hindu leaders are staying sitting on the fence with a wait and see attitude to this immediate crisis, as to my knowledge few of the countries with those as state religions have stepped up and agreed to take the inevitable flow of Mexican refugees into their arms.

It’s tricky to speculate on how God weighs in, although he seems to have a non-hawkish leaning to the whole situation. But the stance of his Only Begotten Son is made clear in multiple past statements, of “do not mistreat the foreigner.” The Holy Spirit is working on the minds of those who pontificate.

A better solution

Maybe a kinder, gentler America might get us further. Two suggestions: Work with governments of countries such as Mexico in a PR campaign to distribute, even if with leaflets and using multiple languages, information to dissuade people from trying to make the trek and come here in the first place.

Second, say if there is a charge such as a single disorderly conduct, just let immigrants stay here and don’t clog the jails and the budget, as it has been written that we will be at our debt ceiling only a day or so after Trump takes office. (At what level of crime is the tipping point for automatic deportation? Maybe put that to a vote.)

Meanwhile, many are already feeling fright about the plight of impending flight. And not just immigrants. A friend is being like a chicken and scraping up dough, making it a point to be sure that she’s buying plane tickets before Tuesday passes, as with inauguration it’s feared to bring with it much higher prices.

That’s the way it is, and we note the passing of the torch of people almost as old as Cronkite. Twice. One fun and one feared. And who will attend their extravaganzas.

Bob Uecker. Sounds a lot better than Donald Trump, don’t you think? Even if it doesn’t roll off the tongue as easily.

The famed and storied Brewer announcer passed just recently, and at his funeral will likely be the old greats, the sorta old (middleweight) greats, and the new greats, as his stellar career that transcended to the national, and put Milwaukee on the map, passed through so many decades, as he called it from his perch above. Judge it not, as it is called Yount. And please don’t pass judgment on Uecker’s affable and hilariously comedic performance in Major League. This movie brought his common-man clowning to Cleveland, too.

But his face will indelibly and forever be etched, and imprinted, on the centerfield wall of thick tarp, on virtually every baseball stadium in the country, old and traditional or new and flashy, and maybe Latin America too. Just hope these new stars will be let into the USA.

But around the same time, Monday that is, there is a new “inaug,” and tickets or whatever you call entry passes for the plush, are being fought for by the Euros — mostly from northern Europe where they can tolerate the cold, I’d guess — and others hoping for the chance to kiss up to the new president. For those who are cut, and don’t make the cut, I’ll offer the following lower-case in-aug-ur-al: A not-as-hyped bring your own auger fishing tourney on a northern Minnesota lake. Hang with the likes of Grumpy Old Men, rather than the likes of … a few other grumpy old men.

At the real presidential inauguration, real celebs will be few, a don’t-show-your-face-but-turn-it compared to what challenger Harris had offered, with only one real “name” name in the bunch, and of that, Carrie Underwood selling her soul and possibly more to be a lead performer. Kid Rock, too, showing himself as a true redneck, not just in comedic style. Jason Aldean, in my book OK but a bit of an also-ran.

There are foreign leaders too, but again few faces anyone would recognize, as they all sent their designees so their only trip made overseas could be something in tune with Mar-A-Lago and/or golf. They’ll do the aforementioned later, in between interrogating political prisoners. And just as pissed-off (and it’s a stream of ice) are those who bought tickets to inauguration events, but now are “frozen” out. Read on. 

Just chill?

For all involved, they will have the inaugural festivities moved inside. Too cold. Or so it is said. Boo hoo. You’d score PR points as the prez coming in by not doubling down on that time you skipped out on an event — a slippery slope — because there was some drizzle, even if strong. An umbrella would have gotten you by. But that’s too much like those famously carried by the commoner British gents who worked as butlers for The Crown, (see music videos by even those from The Island), working class serving royalty. An image beneath us, apologies to Pantera.

(I gotta add this before what follows. Nobody likes the bitter cold and having your ears bitten more by the frost than what you’re hearing. But I live in Minnesconsin, so let’s get real. People have to deal with cold weather. Just keep the speeches shorter than the oft rambling forays the Republicans are known for. Maybe even shorten the guitar solos, and even the best bands have some songs they cut in half as far as time. And hey, up here in the northern part of the country, but still the USA, a 7 degree chill factor is mostly business as usual. Can anyone say Alaska? Has Sarah Palin given a statement?)

And even Monday’s predicted temps, and even wind chills, do not get anywhere near zero. This compared to the last time any inaug was moved indoors, 1985, when it was Ronald Reagan’s intro to-do — and that’s basically Bad Company not semi-sonic-sorta bad country — and that time the wind chill got WAY below zero. Big difference. All this smacks of pomp and circumstance turned into privilege.

Kid Rock hit northern Michigan to film his best viewed video. It described a summer scene, and good thing, as he apparently cannot tolerate even the possible November temps there, as he Monday will be indoors, too. I doubt that his mic would have frozen up.

The motive for the move is couched as concern for those in, and watching, the parade. (I will give kudos to Trump for looking out for the needs of law enforcement and emergency crews, and even their dogs and horses, although I’m sure this provision came from his handlers. But this last-minute change has led to a scrambling, as far as plans for security and emergency precautions — and the more people, the more need for security, leap-frogging — turning months of planning into days. And I gotta say it’s a very “hard” job, like most frigid ice, to have to change gears on a dime, but nobody ever cut Biden any slack on that. And doesn’t anybody ahead of time, check out the Mozart weather charts, to see if the conditions are safe outside? Apparently that’s just a Democrat thing.) But mostly just those mega Maga morons (and let’s just call it that) that are crazed enough to watch. I doubt that Elon Musk will be riding on a float for his company(s). A reported record of 30 miles of fencing have been set up, as security for such an event is at its most amped up ever. (It would’ve been 110 miles, but an alleged kickback to pro-Maga contractors who hadn’t heard about others who have fallen for the scheme, you know the kind, fell through because a third-party pay arrangement — can’t say check because of crypto — didn’t clear the bank or whatever other basically smarmy financial institution. OK, I made that last segment up.)

But unfortunately, this next part is not just satire. As I double down. Does not the deviously industrious Donald doubt that those very immigrant workers he promises to send away to parts unknown are the ones working out in this cold, and worse, while he sits indoors in a coming cushy Oval Office. Add also to the list of cold contractors all those workers he stiffed, and thus left out in the cold, in New York and elsewhere.

The donkeys too.

And yes, the Dems have broken from tradition also, but these are fine points with justifications offered that seem reasonable. Michele Obama was upset with lack of diversity at past to-dos, and Kamala Harris is busy with helping with wildfires (and now landslides) back in her home state of California, and I even got a plea for such donation. (A side note: The current Democratic administration has pledged aid, while it is unlikely firebrand Trump will give a crap.) But back on topic, Nancy Pelosi said she never got an invitation from Pence on a usual typical ceremony of the type, and the Pence side insists it was sent discreetly. So on that we note that hey, even emails can get lost.

Biden et al, as Dem presidents, have extended the courtesy to attend. We can’t be absolutely positive about the First Lady and Trump’s Main Son, at least one of whom is off to Greenland to try to buy it. Again, better make sure the check clears. Methinks Trump will exile Melania to THOSE northern climes, for at least the next four years, or the four years or more after that, and is just sending them there so he can fool around and perhaps pay for it, and still not get in any legal trouble, since they either would not be witnesses to it, or would need to be extradited. (Or one might get “shipped” to Panama and one Greenland. So double extradition?) Trump might be game for that kind of behavior. But let’s give him the benefit of the doubt until after inaugural day and night partying.