You wanna call something a mandate? Weigh the win in Wisconsin. Elon Musk and his millions to give out may soon be relegated to simply a seat behind the wheel of one of his Teslas. The band by that name may also have fizzled from the scene, and the inventor named Tesla is also long gone.

Democratic judge Susan Crawford’s victory over Musk-adopted Brad Schimel was unexpectedly easy, showing that voters — and I never thought they would — can grasp the great complexities and nasty nuances of sentencing certain criminals effectively.

It also revealed more fully that so much of the content of all those political flyers was just so much bunk. So very confusing that even critiquing them was hard to do because you didn’t know exactly what it was that you were debunking. (Along the same level of clarity as picking Zeppelin above or below Sabbath.)

I start with a reading of the reality, and not Master of Reality. If you want to know more on all that has to be weighed in various parties coming to the sentencing table, look at the lengthy and involved coverage by the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel. A prime point: Judges in such prominent cases in particular, need to rather closely follow prosecutor guidelines, and both candidates seemed to do so. The flyers, often did not come from the candidates themselves, but they didn’t seem to ask those other groups, many times PACs, to tone it down either, if they even could accomplish that squelching. So much of this dark PR made it sound like the offenders hardly even saw the inside of a jail or prison cell, and were out very quickly on bond, which even itself usually has guidelines, even though Wisconsin is woefully short on such, seen as a problem.

The flyers supporting Schimel, from a group out of Texas, America PAC, only cited two cases of what they called excessive leniency by Crawford. One of these young men was 19 when arrested, had special needs and his fitness for trial was questioned, as were his chances of getting access to rehabilitation resources if in prison. He had been kept in holding status in jail for months, which has been found to increase the likeliness to reoffend.

The reasoning of the flyer was hard to follow. It cited “releasing child molesters and rapists back into our community,” when the reality is that unless you serve a full life term, that release is going to happen at some point. In another case, cited was a reduction of charges, which suggests using verbal phrases to describe these, then listed a length in years, something that didn’t fit. It said that at issue in the election was supporting the agenda of President Trump and cited securing our borders. A Wisconsin Supreme Court justice does little that affect that situation, just as they don’t often get involved with sentencing individuals.

All of this seems more like a question of a judge’s ability to hold people in custody, and allowance of no cash bail, and this had been on my list of things to address with a post. The following is an example.

A man I know of is a respected, I assume, and successful businessman but when he and his significant other go out for a couple of drinks each, he often gets a little owly and uses a bit of foul language. To the point that he would be on the border of being at risk if a police officer saw the behavior. He once got upset and scrutinized her about how she had voted on a few questions.

This is not important as far as being gossipy tidbits. It is important in noting that if something got a bit out of hand, as far as being loud, someone like him could be a poster child of the need for no cash bail.  

But much farther along, in sentencing, it’s recognized that judges should follow recommendations by prosecutors fairly closely. Crawford was the candidate who at times strayed from such plans just a bit more than Schimel, but both remained in range. It has been noted that she comes from a liberal county and he a conservative one, so it could follow that one set of prosecutors would ask for more jail time than the other.

(In general, ironically and to make a musical comparison, decades-long national band leader and rocker Steve Miller, recently feted, has his feet early on in the county of both candidates. However, his anthem Fly Like An Eagle in particular, and song themes overall, fits better with the Madison crowd.)

Judge not lest you be judged. But we have to make judgments, (I right now am listening to how they are emassed in Holy Wars/The Punishment Due, as in my later discussion of needing due process), to back our decisions, like for statewide or local or federal judge votes, much partisan rather for or against a man or woman. (Yes both sexes are allowed that these days, although some people would probably take a reverse on that.) But go beyond mere abortion and getting a handle on it, allegedly letting the ugly and bad guys go, and how you get to that point, (and the verdicts chosen and sentences given go both ways including by the good.) So at least for a while, in how long you keep them in a cold cell. As the bell begins to chime, and for whom it tolls.

Commence Susan Crawford, and her kinda common-folkish ilk running at the local level, vs. that Trumpish token and allegedly for-pay (at least once and so sorry) lead Republican, Brad Schimel. And beyond the county circuits, reach this decision will, our 72 counties, as they’ll all, each and every one, be hit by the ramifications sooner if not later.

OK, as I evaluate the claims of letting the bad goons go way too easy, on which much of this election is based, so easy to find (but it can at times be justified), these days. It’s been said, and this time it’s true, that if it sounds too good (or should I say unrealistic) to be fact, it probably is not. Truth be damned. Yes, I want to let loose a child killer, it is central to my platform?!? OK … Tell the tale, it is central to no one’s agenda, regardless of gender or even party mostly, unless at times if there’s money to be donated. And it may or may not have to be big bucks. That is universal politics, though not to get partisan, but one party is far more beholden then the other. So if you hear BS, turn the other ear.

— But not all news is that terribly bad. I got a lotto winning of pick 100, plus one of those $100 checks from Elon Musk, and a third of the same denomination from back-pay social security, plus adding to the trifecta the fact that I of usually bad luck also won while playing the ponies at the race track, all in one day. But be aware that today is April Fool’s Day. I really left the casino with just a bit of fool’s gold. —

I have told this (lectured them) to others who blindly just believe whatever they want to hear, and to them I would say cross-check it, and not like a hockey player, across say, more than one news outlet, and God forbid don’t just rest your case on Fox News. MS-NBC maybe. CNN for sure.

Crawford has just let vile people go? Check out the facts behind the BS. And here is what you just might find. You can’t just hold people forever, and keep them locked up for much more than an overnight when they can post bail, without enough evidence to charge and convict and later keep them there. (And when drugs and deals are involved, there may be big money well behind it to get people out, making the task harder.) Or you eventually lose the case, and that helps nothing. And because of, read this truism first, staff cuts, the staff is very short handed anyway. Even if you think in your own heart and mind and soul they are the rare next coming of a Hitler/Dahmer, there is the rule of law that hear this, our country is based on. Due process, too, much neglected today for most. You know, that follow the constitution thang, much touted. Minus Jan. 6. Sorry Trump, in a Democracy you can’t just do whatever the hell you want.

Contrary candidate Brad’s band of beholden brothers argues that also, candidate Crawford is rejecting a bit of alleged natural scientific evidence that there are only the two sexes, and replacing it with mere ideology. Real science, not weird science, itself actually says far differently.

And it is said, (by a Brad PAC?), that Crawford wants to redefine what it means to be a woman in statutes, when they also want to do the same. In reverse effect.

It is of interest — and I’ve heard Musk gets around 27 percent so that’s millions a day — that liberal prosecutors have been criticized for not getting around to gathering enough evidence quickly to put away alleged gang members, when the ones beholden to Trump have been guilty of the same laxity involving lateness when not uncovering info on a similar plain, to deport by flights on a plane 200 people of questionable guilt to Venezuela. I guess finding the facts when you go well into the triple digits of alleged offenders …

Why do I say questionable? One is a pro soccer player from that country who was alleged to not have run illicit arms but have on his arm a gang tattoo. It was actually the logo of a favorite soccer club. Guess it’s gotta be a country club. One thing U.S. officials did know was that he would likely be tortured, again, once arriving back home. Asylum anyone? This would seem to merit. (Back to the scope of that in a minute — the computer tells me how long a read takes.)

But beware. Will we fall just like an empire, as alt music has warned, of old? Even the eternal Hammer of the Gods of the Immigrant Song had its Achilles Last Stand. Always new are your then old overlords.

All this chaotic activity, and to a lesser degree the Wisconsin justice jam, have attracted attention of the national news media, even days before the election, as again the presence of Elon seems to have pushed us back eons. His pay-you-to-vote $100 rate (for whom it tolls and later raised to a pared-down million dollar winner) scheme is I thought, something that if I run up a gas tab too big covering elections, I might bite on if bearing a-what-Musk-makes interest level, that could push it a Benjamin higher, selling your soul with putting miles on my soles. But with the markets his stock is likely plummeting like all the rest, or maybe not, and there could be a big bump with X being sold to XAI. Billions beget billions. (All these figures offered are not guaranteed like the FDIC would pledge to incorporate.)

Back to the pro soccer players. He should be vexed via being vanquished without valid reason back to his viral Venezuela. A judge or judgment chiming in said that the Trump response to why it was taking so long to produce evidence and them blowing off a deadline for such, and when it finally came: “Woefully inadequate.” Kick the proverbial can forward, and easily get it past a bad goalie. Their team further said, they will not freely in any way give out information involving a “counter terrorism operation.”

Apparently it’s terroristic to even challenge, say, the US in a World Cup competition. What else has he done wrong? Ditch due process. For foreigners.

A return from the lower Americas, aside the newly named Gulf: Our local mayor, and this is not a southern town where the mayor rules as law, is running for re-election, and one of his flyers stated he was “humbled” by the opportunity to serve. (Not as with Boss Hogg.) We could use more of that.

But a group touting his re-election bid is not so humble.

The Forward Freedom Alliance gives the same tired old tack that the alternative to Rich O’Connor, “Liberal Liz” as in Malanaphy, will increase taxes “on families,” not to mention electric vehicles, and touting DEI initiatives. Are we talking an automotive union rep here? The group in such a way mentions neighborhood watch and shows a picture of the foe of O’Connor that looks like a jail mug shot and says what she’d do would be “criminal.” If you look closely you will see that what she’s standing in front of is actually a standard height chart for if you stand tall, so it is unclear if what was implied was taken in jail or … wherever.

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.

Everybody is talking about cutting waste. How to trim the fat? Or chew it, and get lean? (Or you could be Old School German like me and eat the gristle, as in the days of my youth I was told what it means to be a man …) So you might start not with your political pundancy but with the pope and your for-various-reasons Friday fish fry. Although your waistline might suffer, up or down. But take heart, bikini season is still about two months off. (One-piecers might like, say, give you three, but look what they’re wearing to the beach these days.) If other, donate the saved food to the increasing number and magnitude of poor.

So, instead of taking in one of those once all-you-could-eat fish fries, for around 15 dollars, or a salmon fillet, (flown in?), bite the bountiful culinary bullet as far as your breading by replacing the flake-off fish-meat, and pay out as little as half that. It could be in the form of a tartar-topped fish sandwich, or a meal itself, or cut the mustard and price even more with something from the deli. Crab meat and the little bit less for lobster might cost much more, ranging up to around $35 per pound, hope you get a lotsa, and you still have to boil it, too.

— This is about stealing signs, and not the opening day baseball kind. Some by one of the local partisan offices must indeed be fearing such, as they’ve been taking haste to haul in the ones for their most prime hopefuls, from in-between the concrete pillars, and not the political kind, each night at closing time. Some of the stark messages on them are smudged on with black paint.

But some signs are just too big to be lugged away without attracting attention. The largest can be seen in each election at a house made into several apartments a block to the north, or at a designer construction business put aside its doors just a block to the south and pumping (for justice) Brad S. and Brian S. by name. A much smaller banner in square footage but still in the neighborhood is one pushing for a “yes” school referendum vote at a long established business catering to kids. So I guess you can bank on these things, as someone has to pay the fiddler eventually with taxation, if your company has been proven financially successful enough to be around for decades. —

So forego the Musk mussels with mongo money-making forms of marinade, and also multiple merlot, and consider the following, walleye over that T fish. A smattering of local prices, from my immediate area, for salmon and scallops and shrimp and such, (based on the couponing sheets that keep coming from the postal carrier):

— At County Market, leading off an ad, $8.99 a pound for Atlantic salmon, the good stuff as in the form of fillets and not the fish equivalent of chopped liver, paired for comparison sake, alongside premium salad kits at rates around $5 to $7 per pound, although sold in ounce-based smaller units. A price from back in December, from before Thanksgiving to right before Christmas, again for comparison sake, is walleye fillets or breaded strips for $6.99 for a package of up to a pound, and large marinated shrimp skewers, defined as 4 ounces, three for $5. 

— At Subway, you can get a full footlong tuna sub for $6.99, or other varieties including all-veggie-that-matters as in up to about a dozen and you can get meat too, for $7.99. Also, buy a footlong (most any kind) and get a free six-inch. And for a single six-inch, $4.99.

— At Perkins, which can be your Denny’s alternative, which often has been slightly cheaper in some cases, you can get for under $10 crispy cod sandwich or double catch.

— At Arby’s, hawked is the Kings Hawaiian fish deluxe sandwich, at participating locations in the U.S. (no word on Canada or Mexico) while (can be tricky these days) supplies last.

— Across the highway at Culver’s, (hi Mike), they suggest getting that fish fry feeling with the Wisconsin (and Minnesota) tradition on hand-battered North Atlantic (not the south part) cod and butterfly jumbo shrimp, and for the sandwich version you can use a coupon for $1 off a value basket.

— At Applebee’s its welcome to the Big Easy for $11.99 for any of the Bourbon Street mushroom swiss burger, Bourbon Street steak, Bourbon Street chicken and sausage penne, Bourbon Street chicken and shrimp, and (not necessarily Bourbon Street) blackened shrimp and sausage penne, (may be for limited time).

Good God. What will be cut next? The state vs. federal Department of Religion, (which we might now need more then ever, depending on curriculum quirks and quagmires?) Seminaries and such aside.

At least, God willing and the lesser regions seem to be gaining strength, you can still, locally, re-elect in our generally-good-test-score state, the state superintendent of public instruction. The ed behind the id (and odd?) That would be Jill Underly, or as a JC friend badly phrased three times in this state, Udderly or about Utterly, with over and under, without going under (completely.) Note the very nattily like-a-gnat notorious statement about construction not destruction, a flip, like the classic Black Sabbath song titled forever War Pigs, “evil minds that plot destruction. Sorcerer of death’s construction.” That song being the studying of battle, and darn politicians soon to be damned, whether learning or warring — and in the same warped ways such ills are being spun in our books that often take a confident confederate turn — Just before the transfer the fighting of it. Unless somebody with targeting takes out too many Teslas. Toucan touche. 

A counterpoint to turning the DEO to the Dept. of Duh. Throwing money at problems is not always an answer, but hey, money talks. Or the teachers like in Denver who walk. So in many ways less feet on the floor, so who is going to run through those PELL grants and put them in place? Not the overworked DOJ? And will they provide justice to AD(H)D and autistic kids who fall through the cracks, with no one around in their (former) offices to defend their civil rights? With half of staff, already spread thin in transfers to other agencies, laid off? So why do our students turn to alt and metal, death and otherwise, even punk? (Country does have whole-grain values). Maybe our leaders should listen to more of it (and alt) …

— So a smattering of seasonal sautes. People are now, with Easter coming, not stealing egg nog (with tariff-taxation coming on such) but eggs, as per your omlettes, to make $9 per your $10, if paid up front. Also necessitated is ordinance by ordinance of number of chickens you can have in every residential garage, and rooster crowing restrictions. (If he happens to be well hung, does he count for a hen-and-a-half?) And a breakfast cafe down the way has had the balls for their eggs, to say their prices will be going up by 50 cents (per egg we assume) and also to say Billion $ Bacon Rate and that OJ, fresh squeezed, is also possibly going up, and they even said so on (three) signs. And at Agave, they are your base for March Madness bracket adjustment if your beer goggles ale you, so you can afford those nachos (egg based?) And the empty bowl fundraisers, as such, continue to up the ante and never fail to come up in occurrence, and that Coldest Night (historically and that has changed per each passing decade) fundraiser, one of those more than one I think locally, raised $47K for causes various. (Is that based per degree?) —

And was it one of those astute leaders who said “we are absolutely and fundamentally committed” to helping students of all abilities. Uhm, we’ve heard that tired old tack before. ADD slash Elon?

I was one of those students. But have become a productive member of society, if columns like this one qualify, however it was because of some compassionate principals and teachers — and some students — not the bureaucrats. (And how will DOE cuts affect anti-bullying measures is an issue that the bullied will be for the ages?)

All this is said to hurt the “red” states — read as more poor — the most. (The hue of the blue will range new.) Is that redness not the Very Great Republican Conservative Constituency? Rich districts will find a way without things like bloc grant dollars and if need be their bake sales will up it to $5 a bun and people will still buy. As it goes to soccer balls.

— I now digress with a Kwik Trip into equinox. March 31 is the last day to take advantage of their free car wash with a key card offer, (does this with your car count as spring cleaning? Equinox over, and solstice, whichever, but summer is still coming.) But you can still get in on their Fan Zone sweepstakes to obtain Kwik Brew Crew tix! For various levels of what should I call it, the terrain of various terrances and maybe mezzanines and other tiers? —

Was it not that Peanut Farmer Leader state — give them nuts, not cake, as some poor students get their only grub from school lunch —  that first gave us the DOE? People say we existed just fine before that, in 1979. Well that same existence gave us Beaver Cleaver Land, and Nixon and pre-Nixon. I reference Soundgarden and Black Hole Sun. And Pearl Jam and Jeremy. And that’s only starting with grunge …

So, just throw it back to the states … Which assumes they are astute enough to get it right, without a whip. Yes, an extreme example, but what if say, Mississippi, decides in their beloved courts that a convicted black man — and that is always questionable — gets as their punishment a bull whip to the back, formerly known as a Black Betty in slave times, as in the soulful song, a total of ten times, where a white man only gets a couple of slaps with a singletail for, I must note, the same crime. Oh its state’s rights, so just let it alone. Three words: The Green Mile. We can’t automatically assume that the states are not racist, or unjust, after all it’s some of them that have given us the mantra, to be taught in ALL our schools, that slavery actually had some benefits for the black enslaved. That’s part of what they want in their curriculum!! And Jews actually gained in some respects from the Holocaust …

And OK, in a related way, just give authority, for things like curriculum, back to the parents, (and more about such blanket authority later.) We’ve seen how well that worked for not school choice, but rather that control over having your kids immunized. Fear autism? You should much moreso now that there are all those DEO layoffs. No bucks or feet on the floor to compensate. Or teach. Or just hold a hand.

And concerned about comprehension test scores? Comprende? Is not being in the top half, or the upper half of that, among (educated as they only rank 85 countries) fair to midland, and better than none? Again, I reference Mississippi, and yes there are these and many more problem districts, but maybe the answer to improving school success — and are test scores the only way it is rated? — is a few bucks for a gifted himself or herself assistant from that world. Even if off the books.

Yes, there is so much more to be said, but hear this: There is inefficiency and there is wasted money. But gutting a whole department, and its spending and staffing and spreading it to other overworked workers, is not the way to go. Aren’t our kids worth those extra few sheckles? So where to cut, and even what districts, and there are many to analyze, takes very much careful consideration and study, and not mererly a shoot-from-the-hip approach. This has been tried and has failed many times before, outsides of sanheidreidrique.

So, they shoot old horses don’t they?

It was St. Patrick’s Day, sleepy from green beer that’s fake but still potent, and time to dream up a good ditty, so I plopped down next to the waiting roots of a willow tree to conjure up a good nap.

So then this was dreamt …

There we were, a complete eight of us to constitute a good Irish number, although it was implied that only two should square off, but still formed of all my immediate family and I don’t think anyone was missing and also a few of my friends, playing an extended game of cards, poker I think it was, in a big carnival centered around the bit ashen theme, a pocket full of posies set to all fall down. We were all of us — although none Celtic in any way — somehow still sitting partially inside a set of eight half-folded envelopes from which to make our plays, but with hands free so we could indeed cast our crazy but lifesaving cards. Would the loser lose his or her head? Alice in Wonderland lives?

— They are cover girls and boys. Sometimes they are on the glossy mags sitting right next to you on the shelf, or the coffee table. Both of them celeb models. Side by side. But the same person. I have seen this many times. The first time it was Nicole Kidman. With the same hairdo on competing covers, interestingly looking just like the nearby clerk, again then possessing the same “do.” This next time it was Kevin Costner in an “exclusive” talking about listening to his “heart” — then long subhead about personal stories. Both rags used that first emotion-tinged word. There are a couple of flecks of hair out of place. I will bet that the next tell-all-only-here from, on both ends between the sets of staples, is a little-known (now) star (each) called Stelavive Equaravitz. —

The games finished, we all then got in vintage cars and made a grand journey — maybe across all of Ireland — but as we approached the coastline one or two of us behind our wheels slid into right near the waterline … by a bridge with a great big span. Our front two wheels angling toward being slopped down, rather than in a quest for a big fish, one of us mostly — I think it was I — another other nestled into the mud nearer the gravel shoulder of the winding road, had to both be tethered to the other six and pulled out firmly into the craggy hillside.

And so the grand journey continued, with the rest of Ireland waiting to be crossed, hopefully without further ado and accidents and mishaps, and so on and so on …

So maybe next St. Patrick’s Day I should lay off the Guinness … And even if I don’t, refrain from further embellishing the dreams produced. (There was no willow tree whispering in my ear, but the rest is very much truthful.)

However, an also likely explanation is that with my profound, if I can call it that Tourette Syndrome, I am prone to wild dreams that are vivid and graphic, fanciful and sometimes to the point of being nonsensical.

But still silly as one can get from the Harp Lager at Hudson Tap.

This is a story that could use a good prop. (Please, make me stop!)

And about a man who had one to swap. And another man who was eager on such a one to hop, buy it and get it in place by Easter and its bunnies, (as in Mile High Club?) And a third who long ago, before the hand-me-downs, just may have used the aforementioned on crops as a duster.

Now this long tale I mop up …

— Since I had not posted for a while, here is a ditty of a bonus coverage. Pre, pre-St. Patrick’s Day slammed Bobtown in Roberts, despite serving just their usual fare, as early as Saturday afternoon, and at McCabe’s Shamrock Club they weren’t answering their phone even after full-length ring, but kitty-corner it was much slower of course in Hudson. River Falls and New Richmond I’m sure were what they usually are on a three-day-plus St. Pat’s, despite wind chills not far from zero once nightfall came, to make my nose run again like a spiggot, (seems like a good Irish word). But in Hudson green bling was in short supply — although there continued to be a weathered-confounding T-shirt or two to be seen — with an almost moderate amount of people at late-night closer Dick’s, however, there was that guy emulating one of the few last people at Hudson Tap, rockin’ the Irish hat/biker look, so stay out of his (rowdy?) way as he shoots darts not soccer balls. And Mallory’s rooftop patio looked great with its green glow. (Some arms were around each other.) And there was at least one party bus, but it was manning The Moose.

The king this year as far as specials that are Irish as you can get is the progressive ranks at Hudson Tap. Starting at $5 and going up by a dollar until $8 are Harp Lager and Guinness Stout in tall boys, Baby Guinness shots, Bushnill shots and Irish Mules, Shanky’s Whip Dark and Irish Whiskey and Old Fashioneds. Others thrown in at other venues include green tea shots and Jameson Mules. Some started rolling through the specials like a lass in the grass as early as Friday night, throwing in Rueben’s and corned beef to boot, and at Kwik Trip even a free pint, that of Mint milk. —

Christmas is in the books, but people still need gifts and to fly for all kinds of holidays. So just fly with it, like a new pole placed in an old hole? Now propelled with this new part in place across most continents?

This late-present idea is all about a rare, sizeable old airplane part with as its central component as in its wheel hub a rotor or rudder, shaft or rod, or whatever else you would call it. It is no ordinary thick stick, and comes from the heyday of aviation. So somebody you know with aerial aspirations might like it as a present, or a great big stocking stuffer, even if this means it is a case of it being regifted to you. That’s what’s happening here.

Oh yeah, the owner who is considering doing his part and donating the part has a pilot’s license, but too busy to build it in and make use of it, since he’s a mega-hours pharmacist and a good-size apple orchard operator, too. But not Big Pharma, just a big airplane, via his medium-size store and the small counter in front of him that lets him interact with customers On The Other Side. And he is bearing a bounty of gifts (in threes that go one better, that take away both symptoms and the side effects, and then avail an aviationist apple too? Like manna falling from the heavens.) So if you fly even a crop-duster — killing weeds and bugs, not germs and flu bugs — if you also go out and buy a tank and sprayer … But maybe that’s built into the housing of your gift? Or if you have a 747 or 757… Or cram it into a 717, if they make them that size, and come bearing a Boeing that’s a big ol’ jet airliner. Nothing more “metal” than that, as the owner of Iron Maiden’s private jet that he flies with a license, while singing Ace’s High, might have hopped on board and gone for a spin when putting his landing gear down in the area a few months ago.

The connection? Both men are named Bruce. Or his brother.

So this parts is parts may be uncommon, but is indeed an airplane part hand-me-down, and something special, and by no means a white elephant. If buying it, just put it on your 1944 credit card.

And not a payment to Roto Rooter, though what you’re getting is basically and roughly a rotor. Shaped as just maybe, in much bigger form, like one of those old oblong orb-like mashers that crushed pills in a bowl back in the day when both of the old parts had actually been put into use. One such ceramic pill crusher still sits in front of Bruce, chin-high on the counter, as an ancient if not archaic antique reminder of how pills long ago used to be dispensed. And setting next to it is a joking sign of how pharmacists are the “pillers” of society. Especially if they fly you there, too.

I will try to get back on track. Or runway. Bruce is the only one at the helm behind the counter, putting in 11 hours or more in the tin can, flying solo while dispensing pills not pez, and he is also quick with a joke and a light up your smoke … Naw, he discourages that and will help you quit. And his gift also might be for those 18-and-up. A work requirement? For getting a pilot’s license? Or a selling-second-hand-parts stipulation? Stocking stuffer suggested age? Or even getting on a plane?

Oh those stocking stuffers and the “toys” that go with them … And need to make them go, screws and bolts and batteries, like Bruce’s gift. Is this subject to gift tack?

You know who would love this airplane part as a gift. My brother-in-in-law, who goes gaga over every last gilded gizmo. So maybe I can make a deal with Bruce to obtain it, and for next Christmas …

You will have to wait for then for the rest of the story, part and parcel to invoke shipping, concerning just what this mystery part indeed is.

So, what can you afford to bring to the concert or ballgame or just plain party? And we’re not talking about ticket prices.

Hey, you still want your holiday fish (all of Lent, at least Fridays), potatoes (St. Patrick’s Day), tequila and spirits (Cinco De Mayo and other days) and beer (hey this being in Wisconsin, just about anytime), fruits and veggies for your deli plate (all your parties through the summer), among other things you consume? If you thought when your spouse says leaving a 25 percent tip is too pricey … And you have to be able to drive to get to the restaurant.

Uhm, that percentage, the whole of it, is the typical new tariff cost imposed by us, the US, on many countries. And these above are some of our biggest imports.

They are from our neighboring countries (mostly), the big three (conspirators) that constitute 40 percent of our imports. And in most cases are charged a tariff of give or take a bit, and not coin, 25 percent when they cross over the border.

— WARNING: The following jokes may be sensitive to people in certain regions. (Try to not be too offended).

If government workers were purged under Stalin (how far under), they were sent to Siberia. Under Trump they are sent to Iowa. Furloughed to nothing but farmland.

And a print ad for a company that does homeower repairs and replacements such as transforming your bathroom and more shows a leprechaun. I think his “world class” specialty care is fixing clogged and stained urinals and toilets after St. Patrick’s Day. The offer expires on April 3. —

I will say President Trump — maybe some of the Art Of The Deal is actually legit — is onto something with his threaten-and-then-reap method of handling foreign relations. Subsequent negotiation can be a viable tactic, it turns out.

Cars are shipped here in large numbers from both Mexico and Canada. So with the auto industry facing rising costs for their parts even greater than before, cars will cost more and sales will go down, because of the newer expense, which almost counter-intuitively will impact auto workers in a BAD way. The whole idea behind tariffs is to PROTECT Americans jobs, and in many cases it may do just that. But …

One chart trekking the journey of rods for cars being finished takes them from Canada to Mexico and parts between and back. With each border crossing, more of an ouch!

So if you couldn’t even afford a car before … You better get used to walking. In what will become expensive boots. Since taxis and rideshare companies have to pay for their now more pricey vehicles they operate, too. 

So who will benefit from the huge tariffs? In practice, the rich of course. How? These monies can help fill the gap in revenue made by the tax cuts to those who already have mega maga money.   

Still, even though it’s not something trending, there exists a trade deficit with some countries, such as England. (Forget British Steel and maybe Judas Priest.) But hey, in the US nobody’s working anymore, so not as much to sell, so no big surprise. Nobody’s winning? Among those American companies in the past facing tariffs in the reverse direction from the EU are Harley Davidson and Jack Daniels. So if you want the likes of rocker Zakk Wilde and band to come to your house there …

Our sales of high powered weapons to other countries will, back at ya, be hit with higher tariffs — but at least this might in a slightly related way curb frequent trafficking.

Pricey prescriptions will get worse, back to pre-Biden days? Toy makers have complained about facing the woe in getting parts, so your tots might get ticked, and there is no way Santa will bring his base here. Across Canada.

Trump has said he wants to paste these expensive tariffs onto our neighbors, in part, to stop horrible drugs like fentanyl into the US. Uhm, the Canadian prime minister says only 1 percent of that drug that comes into here is from his country. But I could see its rural areas being great places for drug labs — like long has been the case in just-past-Hudson northwest Wisconsin. 

Not all is isolationist …

So, we’re seeing land grabs of everything anywhere that’s nearby to certain countries. Trump’s plans to deal, or not deal at all, with the likes of Putin appear to be as such. OK, you have the Ukraine. And take Poland, please.

And likewise, would Trump himself stop with Canada? What’s after Europe? North Africa?

That’s in large degree the order that they fell, or were tried to be taken, around 1940.

Hell, Putin might even take Gaza, or what’s left of it. Does he want us?

Cos hey, Trump could be his twin, as far as being territorial. And kick butt and conquer and colonize.

And what’s finally been said, now, is what was being theorized for a while. One of those “brothers” is holding something over the head of the other?? Guess which is which.

Some of the tariff shit has already hit Minnesota — and its social media — like a dirty bathroom wall, via Ontario and its counter-tariff on having us take their imported electrical energy. But since this measure has already been made and its still winter, maybe global warming will really kick in and essentially put some logs on the fire. Because of the scenario, Hudson, sitting nextdoor, will not overheat. Unless Xcel Energy comes through, and with today’s new challenges they may need to become the prophets over profit with this supply situation.

But wait, the solar energy opportunity (SEO) that could save the thermostat has been sent everywhere other (SEO) by our local authorities. Eventually, rolling blackness across the land? You never know.

Yes, energy and oil, crossing both borders, sometimes in direct form to several states and their residents, had come flowing into the good ol’ USA. Wood too, as you thought housing prices were high before? Hey, Canada’s stuff gets sent to China, as well, making the export lines even more complicated.

Maybe as an aside, will courts step in and slay all the tariff madness? The swaying on the high one, which could be called Justice No. 4, is like the Four(th) Horsemen of the Apocalypse. After all, that seems what’s coming.

Since we have been having far more legislation by litigation. If you have enough money to bring the case.

The shades, on her face, show little gray, (that would be me), more or less, with football also in mind. Unless …

Gridiron going over or under, (like a zone defense), me looking grungy. But I digress.

My mom is not so much interested in colorful mascara or the Green and Gold, only watching with family when That Game turns up front and center, but she definitely does not bleed purple (and gold). So sans Skol, via very little Vikings, can we meet in the middle with Minnesota Gopher Maroon?

The side of her face recently showed a horse, and not just a pony, like the Four Horsemen of the Purple People Eaters foursome line, of a different color. Fearsome?

A tooth extraction when long in the tooth, unlike the knee injury suffered when you’re undercut by a very offensive lineman, will do that to you. As that temporary, like scab replacement teams, facial discoloration has a creep that like clock creep on those older — you know that second hand gaining a second here and there even if it takes a season — up the side of the face that will shake your grid iron beliefs, even if you have none.

Or more pertinently, the blood vessel breakage from such surgery that starts at the chin line and then proceeds up the jaw line and down the neck line, could also marr the look at holidays and wedding celebrations — not as mother of the bride, she simply has two sons, but for a niece. As centimeters become inches, or if the days become a couple of weeks, the marring becomes more of a concern.

— Would this be a Winter family abode for after New Year’s getaways? The name of the motel, viewed while on a Greyhound bus break, is/was somewhere between our season of the year and the name of our state. Farmer in the Dell? That name works, too, with our ag-oriented clan. The sign said it was not (no longer, I assume that meant) offering breakfast, but was adding a rooftop patio (both I think in vogue these days). And back in Hudson, via the trend, people have been showing up for each of them in T-shirts in three recent days.

All of which might attract someone “pastoral.” But maybe not Pope Francis. Even if he was not ailing, as he’d likely stay with the poor of the Ukraine and Hamas, and consider too those in Israel, but all things considered, it might be a bit too penthouse-suite posh. I think he is a plain Cheerios man, not dressed up with apple and cinnamon. But one thing I have never understood: Granted, I think there are more Catholics than virtually any other religion, but why for example moreso than Lutheran bishops, has his weight on the world stage been so … weighty. Maybe there is some papal envy weighing in here, as when I was growing up in the Missouri Synod that broke off from the ALCS, few in the pews would even acknowledge that they actually had a bishop as an overseer! Maybe it was just my particular church … —

On head-looks and their games on my end, one that is tilted along the lines of being challenged, I just was in the barber shop, which would be welcome news to mom and my largely shaggy gray. Most prominent on the upper part of the far wall, a cut across from the barber chairs, was a license plate that said simply “Vikings.” It was among many other pieces of sports and music and movies and more memorabilia that did not have much of any Packer presence until over near the corner. Various other Viking signs flow through their veins, even though its the offseason for most all but March Madness.

Some people have more pressing concerns than games. For mom, and a far greater dilemma than a tinted face, is the impact it could have on a hip replacement, though she has been told time and again these generally, as for a Green and Gold guard, go better than redoing a knee, always the knee, as famously said by legendary coach Lombardi. And Vince was no fan of the Vikings.

So on all fronts it means shoot for a pale-toned-skin Easter with family. Although I said hey, you all look fine. (The green of St. Paddy’s Day, us being German, becomes an insignificant factor, unless you’re talking about gangrene.)

To summarize, the purple hue of almost a full one side of her face came from having a tooth extracted on that side, and the purple tinge spread in coming days to not far from the eye, before just finally going away.

If that would have meant infection, that could have been trouble, as that would have messed with the timing of a hip replacement slated for about a week before St. Patrick would hold sway with his pot of gold, as that would nix putting in a new ball joint until it cleared up. And an epidermal in the interim first part of this year before surgery, which itself toyed with the timing of the surgeries since there needs to be a gap of about three months between one and the other. She still got one as a trial procedure.

That was around the time of the eternal question of long life: Should I wear a mask? At least for a while, to hide part of her face. She was not past that one after being a staunch wearer back in pandemic days. This time for cosmetic reasons, and again we’re not talking makeup, which she seldom wore anyway.

So I leave this long play-on-football-colors-words with this thought, taken from a silly (successfully) sign seen at a local bar above a sink in the bathroom, where there was no mirror, (I can only speak of the men’s john, not knowing of the female’s), so take heart: “You look fine.” So don’t check any makeup you might be wearing.

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?