It becomes a march toward Halloween, and fall says it all, as there is much music and munching in which to indulge — in-between pumpkin carving. Oops, we should just say stickering. While we snicker.

We start with a pumping-up-your-knees-to-almost-thigh-high event hosted by the Hudson musicians, billed as rhythm on the “river,” broadly speaking, and brings together a dozen different marching bands under the stars, so to speak, starting at 6 p.m. Saturday, Sept. 28. (The music and more themes coulda, maybe shoulda, have come to the scenic backdrop of Lakefront Park. As it would feature an elaborate although simple-in-its-beauty concert stage, for the groups coming from over a two-state region.) As it is, name aside, the rhythm venue is not held riverside, but at the bevy of bleachers at Raider stadium adjacent to Hudson High School, two miles from any open water. But with a 100-yard football field thus afield. Or 120 as they’ll be needing use of the end zones. On the theme of 20s, that is the number of years for a prominent high school reunion this weekend, and I saw consecutive attendees on consecutive corners out celebrating downtown on Saturday night. Again, nearer the river.

Rather, in its place, taking by storm the band shell by the river and indeed lake and negotiating the small hill leading up to it, is at bookends for time the (Spirit of) St. Croix Music and Art Festival, all day on Saturday afternoon and also Sunday until 4 p.m. Now that’s the spirit of the (coming) season. A quick look at the event shows that it’s grown to a point where the juried show and its dozens of booths takes the form on the lawn of a big square not a rectangle. While the band played on with Domino, not dominos, by Van Morrison. And my favorite booth, on quick observation, was The Purple Seed, maybe having sprouted from the Purple Tree over on Second Street. A boutique with branches.

The next Saturday, a bit earlier in the day, there is an activity meant to go boo in the night, although really in the afternoon, slated for almost a month ahead of Halloween. The Golden Rule it prizes lives on, as people get together to share all sorts of booyah, that multifaceted food served with love, from 2-7 p.m. at Weitkamp Park.

Likewise, going back to Saturday the 28th, you can get your pumpkin groove and carve — but no knives please — going on in an annual event at all Fleet Farm stores. Not just those in the heart of farm country. And this will not be an official gouging. Because the stores will be providing free, of charge, not only the gourd-like bases, but also paint — and stickers. An official ad displays four of them on corners of a pumpkin, three spooky and one a piece of another kind of fruit that serves as a snack. The event gives you four hours to decorate your pumpkin, starting at 9 a.m. It is sponsored by Rust-oleum, as that is roughly the color of the pumpkins. No rouge. But you may find that at a pop-up fall sale near the Masonic Lodge on Locust Street until 5 p.m. Saturday and Sunday.

It also was recently, this time at Kwik Trip stores, national chocolate milk day being celebrated. That event is past but hey, I’m sure you can splurge for a pint of milk in our dairy state. Chocolate milk could be from a brown swiss or even a black angus, or meet you halfway with a Holstein. Availability was said to vary, so your free milk might be left out in the cold — until next fall. You did have to buy a breakfast sandwich to get the cow, so to speak, and shown on again, an ad, was a three-meat kind. (Sunday is a giveaway at Kwik Trip for that other cream-based dark drink, as in coffee, but get there early as a happy national coffee day starts with a good breakfast.) This all is like a guy I met there who was buying a western omelet and cheese croissant that was marked at 9.00. I’m not sure if that was in dollars or an expiration date.

What happens when as far as logic and cohesiveness, two plus two seems to equal five?

My mom and I think we know. Firsthand and fivefold. This can be an ongoing rumble like a raging wildfire, first and foremost, (and not the cool in both temperature and function firestick kind), hence this run-on about what software and such can suck into its path and make everything jumble. Having the equivalent of that piece’s big impact. Gotta learn the “go” button.

However long, today’s rant has nothing to do with politics, which is unusual these days, rather we’ll get to that later. But maybe the wrath of Yahweh, and they could be related. Versus making Y actually Z.

Technology can be that terrible tack.

Finding a website plug-in — and especially actually installing it, or activating it, or implementing it, or whatever you call that term, so it seems — is not as easy as grabbing a cord and push, like the name implies. When updates that are supposed to be your computer savior for the somewhat less than savvy, do more than what you’d think, with unintended consequences.

But this all starts with mom and her early computer-solution-software history, now trailed off with far less triumph. Genetics at play here? And maybe thus to blame? At least frequent long-distance, as in the Old School method of actually talking to each other, conversation fodder.

So we went back and forth the other morning with tech disaster stories, until my phone was running out of juice. That great tale started while relying on only two percent! Here are my admittedly oddball observations, from a sheer layman’s perspective, used to using just bricks and mortar.

Thus I will insert my postponed trivia question at the end of this known-to-be long rant, and try to show how it all interweaves. As I had trouble posting it for publication into one of my website departments, and it got eaten like a spare sandwich. So you won’t see it under the category (synonym?) of Where Did You See It. I’ve got to recalibrate. My cursor easily slid sideways to select the existing body of copy, but that’s when the fun started.

Mom had to learn a computer program on her job, with little help as this was in an era before tech support, even before the days when computers such as they were, were old VDT machines the size of a fridge. (Learn as you go like me on a crazy new job, having taken a full morning to learn the crazy configurations to the program of the boss’s son, then just past the noon hour, thank you, it was time to start writing stories. And then there was the infamous “rotate” function to write a headline more than two columns wide.)

Back to mom, though, as she was a might-as-well-be executive secretary at a midsize district who had to keep straight the convolved files, and subfiles, on each person’s information, and be able to produce them with enough speed to satisfy any ADHDer. (Flash forward to these days, where she is challenged by cut-and-paste.) There were times when, we agree, you can type the same key or short strings of such, and get two different results. And a third version and a third result. And then make it officially take? And then educate the rest of your secs department on a soon-to-be archaic software, based solely on your own Blood, Sweat And Tears.

Cut to the chase, finally. With my own dear website. Now a newer version has been installed, and I went into the usual page to add to one of my departments, typed the brief and then … hit save?? The function I had always used was nowhere to be found, only what looked like a whole new style of page, minus the small margins such as seen at the bottom. There was no place to see a “publish” red key, or “update” or similar wording. Placed on top of it, overlapping it seems, was the screen to type in — hey that’s what I needed far earlier. The same adventure took place with doing plug-ins. And just what does “toggle” mean? And also the three dots or small bars if they are stacked up-and-down or sideways, like following my directions, or going forward in reverse. And what came first, the plug-in problem or the saving situation? At least with the plug-ins, I was eventually able to find my way back to Point A. But could not get back home to something as simple as “home.”

And on and on. My mom chimed in, saying there could be dozens of such pages and she is in an 8.5-by-11 mode, generating from a single template. And is there even a margin?

The reason for this tirade is that I looked at the varieties of plug-ins available, and they were in tens of thousands. My takeaway? The market is oversaturated with products that are basically minor duplications — Gimme Shelter from it, as how many different typefaces do you need? — to the point where they seem to clog up so much screen space it’s hard to find the old install function.

My mom echoed that “show available then switch” type of command, when using a newer version when you hit what seems to be the same prompt, as there are about 20 different widgets running across the top of the page. So not to fault just my owner company, people have had to be Einsteins for decades in all such activities. The command is still existing, if you use the site wrong, only underneath somewhere in a layer of sub-screens. Mom said she’s also seen such, hit A then try B then get C. And they all look strangely like a deformed Q housed in a box. Or a triangle set inside a square, to clearly guide you.

How did all this play out in typing up my Q and A post, now defunct, ransacked like many a referendum? The five paragraphs of where to find our super-sized political signs came easily, even when adding to it new phrases about where to go, north and south, to see them. But then it was time for the headline, and for me choosing where to place at the top of the page directions to a farm just past Boardman. Ooh, feeling like I timed out — I thought that was a thing of the past, like someone with a great point to make at a debate, and as with the old VDT terminals when saving a story could be an adventure. But out of necessity, this time, I found a way to retrieve, temporarily, before it was hit publish time.

So after traipsing through toggle, here is my full question and answer, that you dear reader have stuck with not only through the last quarter-hour, but day or so since first it got eaten:

Where is the area’s biggest (and baddest) presidential sign, and how to get there to see it? A tale of two cities for one 25 feet wide and that’s just the name. Drive halfway between Hudson and New Richmond and you will see one the size of a double-truck semi, at least in its east-west half, from either way you are driving, like home on your commute. Along County A and/or G. Damn the all caps, where’s that widget for auto-enforce? This truck in the ditch Trumps all comers, and drivers. The size of your car can’t compare.

Then commeth that driver’s version. From down south, as in past River Falls. He said there is not a semi-trailer truck, but a full-fledged storage unit that had its named message, in even bigger letters, stacked three floors high, as it is one of those facilities that needs dozens of steps to get to your assigned unit. As he said this, there was seen another set of messages on an overpass, with a flag atop a pole 20 feet high with its end dangling on the sidewalk. Back down the frontage road, we saw it from a different angle. Ouch. When Anoka came calling there were a bunch of teeny weenie flags on another overpass, as the Dems don’t do it as big as The Donald. At a juncture where above the freeway, there had earlier been only a single small flag, perched at a point where there are two lanes going north and three south.

This is the salt of the earth, and the sunshine of our more-than-global love, all laid out on a sidewalk to give the planets a solar system spin. Or sidewalks. Beginning outside the Hudson Public Library is a nine or ten orb if you’re counting, walk that goes a ways, starting with the sun and then progressing onward, complete with many planetary quips each, if you weave down enough sides of streets. But this is bigger than Texas, so no Pantera and “Walk” … only reverberating puns about Plant Caravan by Ozzy and friends in Black Sabbath. Although they have musically covered each other.

Anyway, welcome to the Planet Walk. An educational space-based odyssey that shrinks the almost-million-mile-across sun and the solar system it gave birth to — interesting fact — down to a half-mile. (And the sun, if you’re keeping score while deep Space Truckin, clocks in at eight inches rather than minutes in this replica. Although it might take you that long to complete the walk.)

— On the figure of eights, also in inches, Linus and I offer this endeavor. County Market has their clerks putting out dozens of what they call The Great Pumpkins, known because they all are more than that figure in diameter, maybe even by a measure of two-fold and are placed not in a row, though there’s that too along a fence between the entranceway and the store parking lot, but in a big bin. And at the shrub area of Associated Bank a couple of blocks away are three small spook-like signs on sticks that evoke the harvest and do not skip all the way ahead to Halloween. —

Interestingly, walking this way, the “earth” is not positioned next to the main flight of stairs leading up to the library, rather in turns Venus mostly, and Mars are thus there, and they are all right, thank you to The Beatles. And after Mars, as an asteroid belt of sorts, there is a waist-high so to speak gap in the chain of planets heading westward … until you get to the next sidewalk going south like the Southern Cross. But no Northern Lights. So it’s about a hundred yards up the next street that you again pick up the pace of your walk, with Jupiter and Saturn. And then again the rest, as you Head East. (We tend to think that Pluto is at the other end of the county.)

This season also brings yet more fall fests, like the themed one in the late-Saturday-in-September event in the town of St. Joseph where you can meet the firefighters of honor — then dunk them in a tank made for that reason. (Check their web site). There also will be such things as at the one on Sept. 28, the fall festival of St. Francis offering food and fun and friends, when you log it into your mileage book to Lakeland. Things start with a blessing of pets (no deer until after Thanksgiving and the annual hunt, thank you) at 1 p.m. as they frolic to the Assisi parish, then a bunch of other stuff to do with the kiddies, Mass at 4 p.m., a dinner that includes beer and wine for most attendees, as the tickets are $15 for adults and older children, and $8 for those 12 and under. Hey, not the bread, that wine isn’t as free as weenies on buns, though this being a church, they have a full stock. Then a bonfire to toast those weenies, while you listen to music.

It also is the time of year for … Halloween decor, sprouting up at a store near you. And maybe a yard next door? Better be a big one, speaking of the size of the monster and the monstrously big section of shelves where you found it. As at Fleet Farm, where just a few words into their small main ad-subhead, they hawk “inflatables,” you now already see them everywhere, like Frankie after quaffing a stein. But the one taller than a basketball hoop, also bent over at odd angles, that you tend to see around is of a giant skeleton! With no globs of flesh dangling!

Speaking of meat, Fleet Farm is also offering $20 off on a Biaggia Pizza snac … Plus, shop deals of other small kitch … And that’s where the adhead ends on my device, prematurely as it’s for bigger than that kitchen gear, not the free typically small- to medium-size food outlay for your NFL Sunday ticket party, if you are a fan favorite enough to have dozens of guests.

At Kwik Trip, online version, they are advertising a winner-take-all contest where you could get a pair of primo Packer-Viking football tickets in the fan zone, for you and your significant other who may be of the other persuasion, in what’s termed a suite cabin seat deal. But you gotta wait to redeem until Dec. 29. And even then there are only “standard” hotel accommodations. But there is a free $100 gift card, to their place only.

Or just go to that Smilin’ beast of a downtown Hudson venue that’s hawking as their MVP (munch various pickles) smash burger “Moose sauce” along with, of course, chopped pickles. Lord, or at least the football gods, knows you can’t have one without the other.

There will be many millions tuning in to watch not the Super Bowl, as this is not as superb, but it is Must See TV as The Donald — does anyone still call him that? — goes toe to toe with in some cases better style, Kamala Harris to see who runs this country and can make it great again (is that phrase a trademark?) Not that it matters, and just ask Jack White and Seven Nation Army, though there will be no one present in the audience. Unlike you getting upset and quaffing your cheap beer, the third one now, too fast at the sports bar.

So get ready to first settle in with some popcorn in front of your sofa, if it has not be repossessed, and then at some point throw it at the television screen. Bereft of the ref.

— On a lighter note. The mongo marquee at Agave Kitchen, celebrating their birthday soon and others with their accompanying jokes, via my family, may be coming, says thus: 343. Today for a few past days. 630.

Is there some major event I’m missing? 420 or such again? (Would HudsonWiNightlife do that? Or own up to it? I think I just did.) But note the first three digits sum up to a perfect 10. And the last three digits only a nine.

Also, this is the time of the season for fall fests, and leading the way only in this month are churches. To wit: a Catholic church in Stillwater is putting out the word and the plate for not one, but two fall festivals, a week or two apart. Hey, there are two such churches in the city, St. Mary’s and St. Michael’s two blocks apart near the downtown, so maybe that makes sense. Too, refer to their website(s) for more info, since right now I gotta go … —

But key points to watch, and back to the debate:

Can Trump find a way to negate the debate rules that say only the moderator can ask questions, and rant on with a bad-willed romp about Kamala’s hair? He says she needs bangs.

Can Kamala, better than Biden, counter Trump’s incessant and repeated and repeated lies? Mega, maga. And can you as a viewer sort them out from the very few bits of truth? Yes he wears a rug. Pick a Jeopardy-like topic to hone in on, such as crime, the economy, the border, but don’t prize actual facts.

Count the number of times Trump speaks in an absolute, with the only gray being hair and waffling on answers. This is the reason his rhetoric falls flat as his hair — and you can use this nugget to impress you guests — as he says everything has a fault like “the worst ever” on things like the treatment of the withdrawal of troops from Afghanistan. Top ten? Maybe. But Public Enemy No. 1? Not plausible.

Look for that occasional more-than-12-letter, not four-letter word, from Trump, other than antidisestablishmentarianism. He might pop one of his brain cells on that one, leaving him with even fewer than Biden. Both sides say they are for change, but every candidate going back to earlier than the Millennium has spouted that useless and pointless rhetoric. He is beholden.

Look up on Google the definition of delusional disorder and narcissistic disorder and see if you can diagnose either one of the candidates, (with more points given to you for one over the other.)

See if Harris can set herself apart from Biden as far as agendas on policy, since she has had only a couple of months to do so as the First Woman. That’s not much time. In our era of technology, new information comes to light constantly, so stances can change quickly, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing, but that needs to be articulated. So will she continue much longer to be fractious on fracking? And see if with Harris not like, say, The Supremes, her voice cracks as she describes the various points. (And certainly, some things would disappear from the plate, such as the border and its potential wall. Harris was said to have not addressed her positions on various issues, maybe true, but mainly because she was trying to be heard over Trump’s blather.)

Will Harris appeal to more sub and constituencies then her opponent, and his cast of characters consisting of cantankerous construction crews? And billionaires who want to be trillionaires? 

And those who have such a fraction as their attention spans. And the ability to stick to a point. (And allow a lack of need for constant one-minute clarifications, and the looks of cross-armed horror while correcting the misstatements, and shock during the frequent (dozens? hundreds?) of way-out-of-whack interruptions. Alleged animal butchering and eating by immigrants of our prized pets? Do such topics seem presidential? Tripling or quadrupling of gas prices here? Huh? Even locally, her alleged legal bailing out of jail of Minneapolis marching and torch-wielding thugs? Again huh, huh. And the best economy basically ever? Pluuuleeze.)

And how Harris of one singular dress sticks it to Trump with heels of five vs. three inchs. It all spikes at 8 p.m. CST.

(The following written as I watch this. Are we talking about a years-back return to the need of phones ringing for prez-government-psych doctors, and government-sponsored and door-to-door, Thorlike-warrior police for other non-white origins of immigrants as I make a pun, and opponents? Trump doesn’t deny these and so many other evils. Just bitches about them and rambles endlessly, and it’s getting worse, when Harris often sighs noticeably but doesn’t devest him. Tit for tat and she could even have been much, much harsher. She can’t shut him up, or can the moderator, and have him actually debate. Will we have to at some point physically muzzle him?)

Grade: Stick on topic and not have the volume of verbage set at a 70/30 percent ratio. Everyone sees it different ways. I see a more and more unhinged but sometimes maybe even purposeful maniac. Oddly, Trump’s ramblings did not seem to go on the attack about the economy. Key observation?

The Flixbus driver ruled the four-or-more lanes, like their German autobahn, duly noting all the four- or-five-year, some of them new, college students who were ready to board, and asked the crew increduously for a second time midweek if this is the final day for dorm move-in. I bellowed from mid-bus, “No it’s orientation time.”

For my various nieces and nephews, in transit by the smaller bus that is UHaul, from Madison to Milwaukee and back, or vice versa. One also drove from the Dallas area with a scared-enough-to-be-shaking kitty with an about-one-year-old, one bum leg. That limb’s not shaking.

The-same-day, I spied a couple of girls thus climbing on the big bus, the distance as between a set of sticked-yard-lines ahead of me, wearing Minnesota Gopher and their grid maroon sweatshirts. So I pulled up alongside their seat and asked if they knew this was Badgerland and that might get some good-natured, lineman-like pushback from other passengers who were also U bound on this might-a-well-be Uline, across company and country.

At a set of tennis courts near campus a couple of young men were seen tossing around instead a football on the side court a few feet away from both one of the fences and the doubles-court line running north and south. But with no crowds cheering, and not raising a big racquet, these football throws weren’t seen as one foot fault, much less a double fault. The distance between the men was about the same as when we’d run square-outs at a group of teens ourselves while playing two-on-two, passing-only touch football in the full-acre backyard.

After the first day of class, there was more fire and catch, this time between a pair of faux players who were straddling a to-get-a-first down pedestrian crossing set of stripes laid sideways in the parking lot of a church school. They were also wearing the colors …

As were a lone customer and groups of clerks in maroon shirts, T-shirts this time, at a local grocery store grabbing halftime grub, as in the forbidden form of cheese. They could of also purchased, out front, from among the dozens of flowers on the potted plants showing a big upper-case green G on their clay cases that would soon be falling to the ground, in the fall as the football season progresses, and be grounded semi-intentionally. Pick Packer peonies? And through a nearby park, concert-goers at a Lions Club fest, clad in pumpkin-piqued orange (blouse) and black (boots) to create tiger-like stripes? (Though Detroit has single-tone uniforms.)

But there would be a Vikes possibly-played-to-victory — it turned out to be a big one — on this Sunday as well, as was held in celebration at Dick’s Bar and Grill through the late afternoon and early evening and then until bartime, by a man who bore a Central Division Champions shirt circa 1994. He spoke of a full day of viewing. But then short-circuited after that. Perhaps by electrocution as Halloween gear has been sprouting up here and there at stores everywhere. Like at Walgreens, and I wouldn’t bet against Green- and Gold-colored themes.

And when was it last that Green Bay was a champ? A nextdoor light pole was spelling out its suggestion in its four digits, “2021.” 

Or don’t wager against Bucky. A wafting billboard boasted the badger doing push-ups, in tandem with a Madison-based credit union, saying he’d do one for every sponsored credit card swipe. Sans sit ups?

With less hoopla than there used to be, the Somerset mega-concerts have forged on to create fire with their music, although maybe in smaller scale with their tuneage, but not tenacity. So still, full-out shows to be reckoned with.

Namely, Nelson seems to be the name. As is Willie and Waylon and the Boys. (So as this summer that featured much to view — like killer sunspots and their Northern Lights if you really want a light show — with its concert music and more closes out and thus sunsets, the Outlaw Music Festival first hits the village.) He is the headliner, but there also is Old School as in Bob Dylan, and not quite as Old School as in John Mellencamp, (no cougar, that’s squashed  as the area is being more and more urbanized), and as the melons now start to mushroom into mush. But there is the scarecrow effect to make them into part-outlaw to fit the name of the fest, as the man mostly made Farm-Aid back in the day, and Dylan as a poet rebelled against society in a way bigger than his pen.

— We just had national dog day and I’m not gonna whiff but woof and make it a week.

A leading re-tail-er (a second-hand or paw store?) jumped on the bandwagon that is the puppy train and was barking about toys for not only terriers but terrestrials too. You could get 130 bucks off an iPad that is ninth generation and does that make it ninth pup of a ninth pup … —

I just met a young man with big and cool hat from Arizona – through which I think Dylan roamed, in character, in his song Tangled Up In Blue — who loves the man’s music, and we are thinking about collaborating more. In the meantime, since moving here and now back for a time, like the vagabond character, I was introduced to some of Dylan’s deeper cuts and harsher bit of his rebel nature, even though he is now 83 and looks like older, and my mom of the same age and Willie-like look who frankly looks better. See him and the boys on Sept. 6 at the Somerset amphitheater. Involving Dylan, he has been on a tour taking the name of the rough and rowdy, which adds a big multi-layered keyboard and a flashing light show, to go along with his poetry.

And this same weekend is host to another rip-roaring fest, the local Lions hometown version, which is sure to again fill Lakefront Park for another year, featuring much music and more, but not a full-flown safari.

Over in New Richmond, I recently – well a full week ago — saw a woman wearing a T-shirt that could be a concert preview, teasing in big letters when appropriate Willie and his whole name, and what it brings. You’d have to see it. So finally now, call him Willie Nelson.

Prior to the concert, as September enters, there are other options, many food-fueled. Green Mill in neighboring Hudson has a BOGO on burgers on Labor Day, and across the street, Buffalo Wild Wings offers regularly these days a triple (as in the meat) bacon cheeseburger. Across the freeway, Habaneros Mexican restaurant has unveiled its new burria menu. And the same sign says that they are now open most Mondays.

Downtown, Dunn brothers coffee shop this same weekend rolls out, its door says, like a circular squash, what could be called pumpkin-athon (a ton if it) or pumpkin-fest, to ring in the new fall season. And as across a side-street from a music club, who knows,  they Dunn could be offering tunes, like with Brooks, or the likes of Smashing Pumpkins, but we are not sure if canned music is on the menu and these days the censors abhor any reference to anything that could be seen as violent, even if time honored. It’s, well, Dunn not Dunkin’ but we suspect there will be, with such, spiced coffee-type drinks and maybe a few doughnuts. We add pumpkin infused latte and muffins and the like.

The server, (as a piper?), knew all the pumpkin-pied stuff right off the bat, and each franchise location has the freedom to have some of their own creations, so I have referenced many here. But across there many stores — there is another to the south on Hanley Road — there is the Pumpkin Dunn Dirty, a drink that looks potent with its layers of first very dark brown and then a cream color on top, with then more cream, that is said to have just for starters a combo of their signature Nitro Cold Brew and Pepsi too. Then ladle on the pumpkin, of course.

This would be some cool info on your fave candidates, and referendum questions thumping in your chest and — at least we hope — brain, for you politics junkies. Was it true, the red before the blue? Town vs. city, and certainly different when sent sooner. This site is currently undergoing a major redo, and thus an improvement, so you may have to be patient with this post’s posting time. Good things come to those who wait, even when it deals with something as instantaneous as the internet. (Should be posted by midweek.)

Lordy, it is time! So here goes. And you just might find it an interesting post if you stick with it past the narrative of numbers:

St. Croix County has somewhat of a political disparity depending on where you are in it, but generally is about as red an area as you will find. From the east end and its farmland that constitutes a work-the-land, deep-seeded way of life that for many, inexplicably, votes conservative as its very farming becomes almost as much a political ideology as an occupation. To the west end and the more politically potent and rich, big Hudson area that virtually bleeds red, except for a block of the more intellectual, and then a stone’s throw further west the St. Croix River bluff line that entertains both liberal nature lovers and the well-heeled who cruise through it in million-dollar yachts.

This range showed, to a degree, in the specifics of the polling results on Aug. 13, but as a reporter and observer assigned by more than one media outlet, I was eager to find how much of a difference there would be between the 14 precincts of the mostly rural but large population base in the town of Hudson, versus the county as a whole. (I primarily was onboard to report results, as they came in, for the Associated Press, first at the town hall and then with its broader reach at the county government center. AP has now deemed elections to be so important with their contentiousness, that they have me staff both places.)

The most striking result I found was the big difference between those who were eager enough to vote early, and those who did it onsite on election night.

The highest profile race involved originally-from-California-rich-businessman Eric Hovde, who was a virtual shoe-in during this partisan primary election to go head-to-head for a U.S. Senate seat come the early November finale, against Democrat Tammy Baldwin.

Hovde garnered 7012 votes, but that was only about 80 percent of the total, as the only real question was who would be runner up. Having seen it on a single sign, I was familiar with the name Rejani Raveendran, a mother who ran on a platform largely based on defunding police, and then Charles Bauman. The mom got 739 votes county-wide, with Bauman at 706, but it was a little different at the 14-precinct town level. She received 72 votes to Bauman’s 47, and for early voting it was a closer margin, 17-13 in favor of Bauman, with Hovde chiming in with 563 and 82, in the town voting categories. In general terms, each opposition candidate got about 10 percent of the vote in the various stats breakdowns, although Raveendran’s in-person town total was more impressive.

Another race of high local interest found Rob Kreibich, a leader of the Chamber of Commerce in New Richmond, raking in 2412 county votes to the higher tally of 2465 for Brady Penfield, for the representative for Assembly District 28, on the Republican side. (There was no voting for this office in the township.)

Lastly among those races contested, 3872 county residents picked Kyle Kilbourn and 3195 did Elisa Rae Duranceau, who in an odd quirk only I would point out came in with a dual name-recognition advantage — much like being a celeb — of being the only candidate using a third, could-be middle name, and having the likeness in name of popular rock band Duran Duran, a fave group of one of my drivers. In the town, the winning margin was far greater at 287-213, but the pace was narrowed to 122-96 in early voting there, for Democratic representative to District 7 in Congress.

But the two referendum questions were the one showing the largest local distinctions. The first, to prohibit the state of Wisconsin from delegation of appropriation of power, whatever that means, was turned down at the county level 8502 to 8364, but it won in the town 716 to 629, although in the early voting it was defeated in the town by the large margin of 259-98, for an overall deficit of 888 to 814 there.

The second question, to require the state of Wisconsin to allocate federal monies, also lost in the county 8523 to 8387. So for the two queries, the voting was along straight lines, as in the town it was OK’d too, by a wider gap, 722-626, with the early tally being much different at a 265-92 loss. All this found only a small handful of residents changing their votes from one to the next, although there were a couple-dozen more people voting on the second question.

The turnout was said to be good by varying degrees by clerks, although they were able to tear down the voting booth apparatus, and compile their total results earlier than usual, by about a half-hour. One worker at the town level, in relaying to me the summary of results, which were broken down into two subtotals of the voting types, in-person or early, had trouble finding one race listed on the sheets and quickly concluded that it was not applicable for the town voting. Because of the consistency of the voter preferences, almost like voting along party lines, election workers often could just place the per-voter sheets in front of them in one stack or the next.

A total of 8459 voters cast ballots for the Hovde-led race, outpacing the other hopefuls. By comparison, the 2022 partisan election drew about 5300 voters for Democratic races in the county, and about 8000 for the Republicans. In the following main general election in November 2022, about 44,000 county residents cast ballots when taking into consideration the two parties.

Now we get past the junk only interesting to political data junkies, and slide in some sarcasm. There was enough leverage by parties beyond the red and the blue to get on the ballot. There were the Libertarians, not like Lago but it comes to mind when writing, and with the initials on the side of the ballot that indicated them, it looked like we were headed into the territory of every short four-letter-word for name but Woke, but not Maga and definitely not Mar-a. There also was the presence of the Constitution and Wisconsin Green parties, to invoke longer spelled and more complete names.

An election worker who knew me asked if I also knew just who had been for an hour sitting in a car across the lot, kinda a lemon not a limo. I said oh, that’s my driver. (Is it now that I am important enough, and get paid enough for these gigs, to play my Trump card or car and have my own driver?) As it was, the driver of this humble not Hummer car told me that he’d always had a question for a law enforcement officer, but was never in the right place or time to ask. But now it had come, at the county fair not in St. Croix, but Pierce in Ellsworth, as there was a new sheriff in town, literally, via recent elections. Emboldened by the fact that he’d known the previous one, he blundered forward: Why is it that Corvettes never have front license plates? Outta the other end of the county?

Hmm, let me think about that, came the answer. I’ll keep an eye out.

The driver added that he might be needing another seat for another passenger, as the lot was emptying and a frantic woman came up to him about 8:10 p.m. and asked, like he had as much authority as the prior person cited, if she could still vote.

We need more people like her, as shown by the addition that had gotten through to place those two referendum questions. Somebody managed to sorta sneak them in, when few were looking. To me it seems like some pork barreling pols politicizing the polls.

Music is where you find it. Often in a park, lakeside or side street, and/or its pavilion. Impromtu too. Often, again, in a place you would not normally think to look. So no need to buy tickets, swiftly, to something like Taylor. (Though she, too, is popping up everywhere, even at Target Center/US Bank Stadium in the Twin Cities, but sometimes a no-show in the end, and is obviously a very big sports fan, with her look-alikes also locally lauded. More on that in a future post.)

I saw, way back during the pandemic, a man in the downtown River Falls park, as the concert bar biz was on hiatus, down the way a bit from the mainly main drag, just shredding the old Jimi Hendrix (typed right this time unlike my colleague who also used the Skynyrd name with its convention spelling) classic jam on the Star Spangled Banner, with just a little of his own mix. This park was between main segments of buildings, with lots of benches for fans built in, near a Cripple Creek? Like so many times, over time, I expressed my appreciation. And like numerous of them, he thought it not to be anything special, just him doing his thing.
Now, a couple of years later … less speed. A guy seated at the side of the front of the Hudson dike road, as it traipsed to the back, was kicking a similar song — on a (this time unplugged) cello! Was it a Jimi redo, sitting by the rocks or dock of the bay? I just had to ask him. No intention prescribed by him, he said, but as is so often the case, the parallels were there, in the (more lightly humming though still complex) solos. His tip jar/hat/suitcase was active. Spread out on the squares of cement.
But again, not all of this musical beauty is parkside. You can, more and more, see it playing out on Second Street with its many musicians positioned in club-area doorways, even in the coldest of weather, (but not below zero, merely freezing we can do), to make a buck as best you can. With gloved hand(s) via the late Michael J. or locally, Kyle K. At Mr. Zs, Hudson form. Have not seen any bongos though.
Then come a cool September night. The guy was laid out in the midst of the downtown, at the far edge of the sidewalk, plugging and plucking away. Gear in cans, that includes bunches of soda before him. What song choices? I said that I, at times, sing Iron Maiden as a cameo with a band. He added that he too, but via his buddy as a trooper who was at a different given gig at the time, does such songs in some way, somehow, on acoustic guitar, minus of course the speedy virtuoso solos. Can the other dude do Dickinson?
But the real star of the show was his laid back dog, laid out next to a small speaker, and attracting attention from all-comers-by. I think his name was some form of Buck, not eye or shot, or Barfie, but it doesn’t matter. Hair of the dog? However not short-shorn, as the owner is a somewhat rocker.
But, we in recent times have seen the bad side of street living, sleeping out on these same downtown stoops because of nowhere else to go, several times over. Sometimes these are the same players, of music, after the show stops. (More on this later).
But back to the positive, via my new bud at a downtown retail store, and also like his wife a piano plinker, though cool, even at church, (don’t know if it was Gospel). At times he has trekked to the other end of St. Croix County for a quite big gig, bolting over there right after his shift would end on a Saturday night, and hit this show that while at an area club was impromptu all-comers-friendly. Could I pipe in on vocals? Common ground? We talked about this band and that, as my fave sound and what-I-know-the-words-to is a harder sound, but we broke bread, so to speak, on Ted Nugent. Motor City not a strangehold on mid-county. Not so pop-ish after all.

Twenty-one of you readers, the number of years you often need to get into a show, chimed in the other day, wanting to know things like how they could get more information, if I had other websites, and even if they could serve an apprenticeship or share links.

You have been writing and now I have answered.
I will soon be offering a secondary website for exclusives, more detailed and comprehensive information on concerts, and “the rest of the story,” as well as supplying a link to receive a handbook for writing your own song lyrics.
I will also go so far as to give my email for feedback: joewint52@gmail.com.
Here’s another snippet of what you can expect soon.
In lyrics, there is always the play on words, and cautiously forming new ones, ala Dani Filth. And in enters, sorry … religion. Write say, Hymncognito. Or Himcognito. Notice the distinction?
And the dichotomy? After all, incognito means not to be seen as a person, but the prefix “him” produces irony as it indeed establishes oneself as a person. And the prefix “hymn” implies a title given.
Some ideas are OK, but really pretty easy. Maybe just in essence, lyrical filler. Until they are extended. But then they can become virtuosic. I will, later on, show you the difference. I’ll start with generalized warfare lyrics … and there are many examples to pick out, but here’s one. “In the fields the bodies burning, as the war machine keeps turning.” Why not sing, on alternating choruses, to get in a series of stronger words that say basically the same thing, “singe with both barrels, with aim to maim and harrow,” and then change it to, “churn with all barrels, take aim to rip up the marrow. As we plunder, lives go asunder. Your’s too, bloody now sliced flesh extracted from bone.”
I borrowed that intro line from War Pigs, to give my example, and that’s the title of the Black Sabbath anti-war anthem, (hey they only had two words to choose from in naming it), and it starts out in that rather simple vein but then goes much further.
And then there is what I term generic insight. As an example, about the fiery crash of a slow-moving hydrogen blimp with untested design, citing what led to it, “and the engines did run, to the moon and the stars, what have we done?” Especially at the the phrase’s start and finish, it just fills wording gaps.
How about expounding further: “Plod southward newly leaking pod, put your best foot forward, but after the craft rises to full arch, it’ll arc and burn. Keep everyone on their toes, from an even-keel-heal?” Note the five-fold podiatry wording. (I must say that with both examples, there is the constraint of referencing well-known but cliche phrases. But these do produce a grounding effect for the lyric lines.)
Songwriters also play with plurals, or not.
Enter classic Iron Maiden: “Spy you with his eye.” Or is it eyes. As in that case, they are farther open, with more than one. And could be sung, to see more than just a single thing: “The eyes, they peered separately, perplexed with a pair of scenarios.” Notice that I did not say “and they were perplexed,” as those would be unneeded words.
Then there is more “secondary rhyming,” as also shown in the Iron Maiden line, “a terrible curse, a thirst had begun.” Not just at end of each line, but two such tricks in three words.
You don’t say just horse and horsemen, as in those often referenced Biblical four, but maybe steed and stallion, or to throw in terms I have written — I will give you this bit of a teaser, that being ponymen or even better Shetland-small-squires, as a difference.
Then to again invoke the spiritual, there is brilliance but also what is sometimes just simplistic prayer stances — and I’ll show you the difference in the upcoming handbook.
For instance the line, “get on my knees and pray,” from The Who and others. (They do save it a bit by adding, they hope, “We won’t get fooled again.”) It can go a lot deeper then that. Rather from Judas Priest and one of their messiah songs, “Down on your knees, Repent if you please.” A bit more poetic, and biting and punchier. And I’ll go even deeper with you.
So much more coming. Thanks. Joe.