Something new, or maybe not, referenced before in cursory form on posts on this channel, or just call it a blog, is how to write lyrics in a heavy metal style that simply transcend. Even spiritually. Epically.
Below is an example of my own composing of such, a bit Iron-Maidenesque. Not everyone rhymes words in a single verse like aristocracy, animosity and atrocity. Or understand the reams of background that got these brilliant lyricists where they are today.
I’d love to show you how to make this your own, and write such lyrics yourself. (With all sorts of variations that I’ll explain at length, and numerous in-depth and specific mental exercises to bring you there, coming from sources used creatively that are unlikely for such applications, until you stop to think about it.) All through a DIY handbook and its followups that I soon will make available on this website. I will likely update this, as there is so much to say, with monthly installments of new tips in the inside departments, such as Killer Metal Lyrics. (You may have seen some of them listed alongside the homepage, and right now they are (unintentional) duplications of other posts but over time will delve into all kinds of new topical stuff).
For this deep stuff, most people need it explained — so here we go. My metalhead friends say I’m taking it to another level. A lot of this style goes deep into theology.
Some easy interpretations
I chose some of the easier-to-understand messiah references down toward the end as examples, only because the thought can be condensed. As some of this stuff is so deep it is almost beyond human comprehension on just one time around. I hope to provide a framework for the numerous references that are even more complex and open to different interpretations. Am I sometimes barking up the wrong tree when I see all these different layers that only a few others have ascertained — but likely the writers themselves? A very learned and successful man I talked to — he got off on U2’s The Joshua Tree — said this about even the basic messiah-mongering stuff that is described down below: “This is way over my head.”

Filth meaning
(But first an aside: Bands like Cradle of Filth, although edgy, are worthy of example because they are in another universe with their songwriting, and many others have copied it in lighter tone. The band title? The frontman is named Dani Filth.
And besides, for a variety of other metaphor reasons, do you think that the Bible’s manger was just all clean straw? Artsy.
I maybe, or may anyway, break from the rest, in how I write lyrics about such things, because I’ll not go to that degree with my symbolism; is there really a need to mention it just because it’s probably true? Or is that why this is truly art.
I’ll just get more poetic instead. A new friend says: By their fruits you will know them. Their points of emphasis are shown by the songs they choose to cover. It might seem odd, but Cradle of Filth is one of many bands to cover Hallowed Be Thy Name, the Iron Maiden prayful classic of a man going to the gallows that got the whole music reaction thing started in the first place.)
Word choice
Like not many others, to re-emphasize, I will rhyme in a single verse words like aristocracy, animosity and atrocity. That will set people apart.
And at times it is not really profound — a very overused word — just artistic word play. They write scapegracing rather than scapegoating, I say analog to make a point versus analogy.
Grand ideas
Some writers just tweak the concept — their combining words to make one is said to be like Paul in the New Testament, and that’s all fine and good but do they bring forth original thought? I think a better route is forming grand ideas, as opposed to simply word play that may just involve a very high vocabulary and use of phrases. Without further ado, see my example below, and I’ll share scores of these types of lyrics over time.

(The backstory of the lyrics that follow, I wrote them in five minutes, is that what if, all those macho men who bed hundreds of women, leave a spiritual piece of themselves behind with each one, and could not just sever the ties clean and go blithely forward. Imagine the cost).

Thoughts and prayers for me
and my betrothed, more than one?
And for most all of us, it will be
as we reach the deepest bowels of our souls
and into them dwell

What if you give away,
so many pieces of yourself
that there are no pieces left
many pieces, big and small,
but in the end, they all … they all

Those who you have actually known
The connection stronger will be shown
and what if that perfect one
was made more perfect, how?
that is the way it is done

Woe to you
who’ve bedded a hundred women
on all of you the wrath
of isolation and eventually ..
scorn will be given

Not a thousand needed
but merely a hundred
it will do, as well, to
a tinged soul plunder

Such seeds are sown in a holy place
But in that space, fell from grace

A thousand warriors I have known
not Perfect, wounded veterans all
and it’s not just in battle that they fall
for the very soul of your Queen awaits
and its absolute longing pervades and spreads
since what is fruitful will multiply

For the need to be complete
in a truly spiritual form
will never go away
once you’ve lorned
regardless of your loins

Though some baggage with women will remain
it’s not too late to change your wonton, wanting ways
But to backtrack, religion intentional?
Is all the theological imagery in metal especially, although overt, actually done on purpose? “The smoke of her burning,” again Dani Filth-written, a song with dozens of very-specific analyzed references — starting with the 70 A.D. Jerusalem siege — to all sorts of views of Revelation, Matthew, Daniel and such, answers the question flat-out, or is that just how I see it? One online explanation to the song goes on close to an hour. Too long for here.
These writers often just play off each others songs, in what early-on was like a closed club, with just a few bands that often mixed and matched members, so there is a body of work to reference and patterns to be seen, using song references few people understand, but love to find out about. This depth is like comparing Michael Jordan to a high school player.

Only Jesus can do
Also, in both metal and I’m sure many forms of literature, there is a metaphor where Jesus is the one who can do what no other can. And because he was part human, he’s also said to be the world’s best lover, and has even brought speculation about being its most well-endowed.
(Will I go into that territory?)
But how about this, by a group with a religion-themed name, Deep Purple, so that gives you a hint: “Sweet Lucy was a dancer, but none of us would chance her, because she was a samurai. She made electric shadows beyond our fingertips, but none of us could reach that high.” There can be many interpretations of “reach that high,” such as the height of a stage, or a lunge heavenward, or a superior spiritual state. But get this last line, a one-word changeup: “ONE of us could reach that high.” Guess who that could be?
Are these things important, or just mental gymnastics? But if they make people more comfortable with God and yes, bring about their understanding of theology and faith …
For grace of God go I
But another topic. There is a frequent metal metaphor, misunderstood, that can be summed up as “but for the Grace of God go I.” So how about this line, in a song about a hit man with a conscience. “Shot in the dark, one step away you. Shot in the dark, nothing you can do.” Meaning? If not for fate and God’s providence, you or I could be that person having to shoot, and then live with the consequences of our actions.
These lyrics writers often play with numbers, mostly three and seven. There’s even a style where one person in the Holy Trinity is being addressed in some songs, more than the other two, since they are in the best position to address the human need being presented.
Two Minutes to it
Some would say all this is a reach. But Iron Maiden has been asked to explain this satirical ending lyric in an antiwar anthem, about the atomic doomsday clock: “The killer’s breed are the demon seed, the clamor the fortune the pain. Go to war again, blood is freedom’s stain, don’t you pray for my soul anymore. Two minutes to midnight, the hands that threaten doom. Two minutes to midnight, to kill the unborn in the womb.” First, there is the Bible verse that says God will visit the father’s sins on the sons. But this is what they said about that last line: In what’s apparently a rather obscure reference, the Bible makes the comparison between the destruction in the final stages of war, and the pain a woman goes through in childbirth.
Dio and whose words
And this from Ronnie James Dio: Once the words of a song leave my lips, I no longer own them. They become yours to interpret however you see fit. So over and over, they give the listener free will to make such choices in meaning. And if there is one takeaway I have about metal lyrics, hundreds of times over as those in the last paragraphs, if you get stumped, think Biblical. Thus, the lyrics have almost exclusively been said, if such singers are pressed in an interview, to be of a “Christ figure.”
I think my handbook would be a perfect way to introde this school of thought, as its just this kind of empathy and intuition and similar subject matter that’s driven so many heavy metal songwriters since their beginnings, (once you really get behind the thick symbolism). They have been just as tormented as I with things like crazy strong emotional connections, shown in the “Easter Eggs” in dozens of songs.
(In the following “theory,” which could also be spun off of into song lyrics, I present what I now see — based in part on a song I just heard — as parallels to the warlike effectiveness shown during the sieges of Jerusalem as described in the Bible, which some of those people brought on themselves by being ungodlike. Do you think the analysis has merit? Or is it overstated? Would you offer another layer or line of reasoning?)
Jesus as uncaring?
As I have gone through excessive ruminations about theology, and the role of God in Three Persons in it, I began thinking about the lack of a Messiah at times, apparently, to protect the very weak, even though that is what He was all about.
Christ on the Cross died the most horrific death a person, even a (half) deity, could imagine. That is a matter of record, to a degree I’ve checked out from theological concern, that only gets worse as you explore further. But what of the hundreds of rotting corpses that the Romans left hanging from crosses as people ventured into Jerusalem, as a method to control the populace through fear the same thing could happen to them.
So why did Jesus not put His money where His mouth is, call all those legions of angels to come and as part of the picture free the Israelites from the tyranny of the Romans? Did Jesus not care so much about all those who befell the same fate as He, although maybe not as torturous? Or was He simply working within the constraints of the culture in which he lived.
But there’s got to be more to this, and I have prayed for answers — something I always default to — that are not angry and aggressive. And now maybe these answers are now here.
If all those angels (check out the metal band Armored Saint) did take down the Romans, there would have been the horrible deaths faced by tens of thousands of their soldiers, and maybe a few innocent angels in the process. Not as bad as being crucified, but the sheer difference in numbers affected has to speak to you. And once a dictator is overthrown in this manner in a given province, other peoples are emboldened to also act, with a domino effect.
And further, and more importantly, such a coup by Jesus would have put the entire ancient world and its long-established-and-still-evolving systems into turmoil. Consider the positioning of these countries in the overall region. Caravans of food and other marketable and very valuable goods across Asia and much of Europe and even Africa, which dealt with more then just newfangled spices of ther Orient, though that’s what you hear about most, would have been disrupted, and with that the meager food sources of the general populace would go asunder. And thus, the barter system so many replied on for an again, meager, sort of income, would be compromised. Or that’s my take on it, Coming From A Land Of Plenty.
Invoke Alexander
So what’s the end run here? I check out not only the Bible but also my Biblical metal music. The logical source of such commentary? An Iron Maiden song I’d long been wanting to check out, Alexander The Great, would be a source of insight.
The rub: Alexander started as a regional leader wanting to overthrow (tyrannical) governments, but he was so skilled he eventually conquered almost all of the known world. And Maiden pointed out what you might not normally hear, all this spread of culture and ideas along a fast track allowed the later establishment of an (enhanced) version of Christianity throughout the land. Certainly, this new religion would not have spread as broadly and as fast.
The politics of Jesus
So when considering that many Jewish leaders viewed Christ as a political failure, I need to revisit the words of rock groups like (very aptly named) Nazareth and Oasis on the politics of being the Christ, and all-in-all they are very much apologists, and I’m thinking more and more that’s OK. My friend who is a (lowkey) metalhead, concurred with my interpretation. Here are the two intros:
— “Heartbreaker, soul shaker, I’ve been told about you … what they are saying must be true … times come to pay your dues. Now you’re messing with …” That’s Nazareth, but later Oasis really got into it:
— “Today is gonna be the day when they throw it all back to you. Somehow you got to realize what you’ve got to do … Nobody feels the way I do about you now … Backbeat the word is on the street that the fire in your heart is out. I know you’ve heard it all before, but we never really had a doubt … Today was gonna be the day, but they’ll never throw it back to you … Maybe you’re the one that saves me. So after all, you’re my wonderwall.”
The singer says it’s about a hidden inner and possibly divine voice that guides him. A truism in metal.
Only a messiah, lyrically.
So tell me if I’m wrong, but who else in human history could the following phrases have referred to except Jesus, (the Ozzy lyrics come from Iron Man and what could be seen as its sequel Bark At The Moon). However, the critics, unchurched, have called the main character a killer robot or a vengeful werewolf. The lyrics are not to be taken as literal, and artistic license is taken with numbers, and Jesus can be shown even in the Old Testament to be a vengeful messiah, to prove a point about what we as sinners could be seen as deserving. (I do have this concern, what would Jesus think about such a presentation, after what he is said to have done for humankind. But I do like the idea that the pharisees and other hypocrites are skewered). A sampling of these lyrics:
“He was turned to steel, in the great magnetic field, when he traveled time, for the future of mankind.”
“Vengeance from the grave, kills the people he once saved.”
“They killed and buried him alone in shame, and thought his timeless soul had gone … But he’s returned to prove them wrong, so wrong.”
“Years spent in torment, buried in a nameless grave, now he has risen … Iron Man lives again!”

They were the men that woulda, shoulda, coulda been king, in their own way, limited but still boundless.

When is a touchdown more than just another six-point into seven score?
When it propels a fullback named Franco into the annals of football history. He grabbed at knee-height a wayward fourth-down throw after a ricochet of far more than one yard-marker’s length, the longest we have seen, then snaked his way into the end zone to win an early Super Bowl for the Pittsburg Steelers. But although he beat the football odds hands down, he could not cheat death, as was seen earlier this year.
And the name Franco just keeps on popping up since then. (More of that below, in the next sentence and beyond).
It happened that the following day after his death, I saw a video of a singer, not sure if its rap or salsa, who is a third piece of the lookalike puzzle. And three more are listed below the pullout that follows.

— So now we’ll also list this. The Wild Badger in New Richmond is again adding to its already well-stocked lineup of deejays, with the mainstays being Kris Holiday and DJ Kurt. But now in one of his relatively new engagements at The Badger, DJ Winn is onboard upfront on Saturday. And after seven days and nights follow, its the band Theory, which despite the theme of this overall post does not necessarily invoke the rockers Theory Of A Dead Man.

Two blocks north, on Thursday at the Friday Memorial Library, its the first of the summer’s Let’s Get Trivical, with the questions asked being much more specific than usual and featuring a summer recreation vibe with a “beach” theme. On July 20 the topic will be “hydration.” And there regularly are many of the tools for yard games available for checkout. So go for the trivia and stay for the Jarts and more. —

 
It could be said that the man behind the “Immaculate Reception” is larger than life. The same has been said of a man who would, suddenly, foretell to the world and then go out there and sell the concept, to the benefit of many people, as he hawked and helped so many with his uncanny abilities as yes, a psychic. Though not models, they share a similar distinct look that demands attention, and begs for ongoing requests, formal and informal and journalistic, for re-visitation. Just like their defining and sometimes seeming supernatural ability. And they pass muster, even if they are based on mostly a single “pass.”
Franco H. was black and Joe M. dark-skinned Greek, with also the same hairstyle in an uncanny number of fronts, build and beard. Franco H lived for quite a few years longer, chalk it up to an athlete’s training regime. They have the same length of legacy, especially among those who loved them. Even if only a lowkey sports fan, you had to watch that infamous catch and even longer run every once in a while. Turn on again, and tune the replay back in.
(And Joe M has other lookalikes, from diverse walks of life. A guy in a Goodfellas-type hospital bed get-shot scenario. The man in a commercial wrapped in only a towel, running down the street to chase down a delivery truck, and I think it was of a fave pizza. I saw this on TV again yesterday, and was reminded of Joe M, as in his wide girth, making his presence even more felt. And even the expressive with hands — like Franco’s catch — lead singer in a band called Metaklapa, a choir of five Croatian men applying their traditional style of a-cappella folk music to heavy metal cover songs.)
As I prepared this post over time, I kept on stumbling across the name Franco in various artistic endeavors, from movies to music. Putting a perpetually poignant face on my post.
But back to that infamous TD, which took far less then a TO to play out, but still long for a pass play. Even after what already seemed a miracle, there was that nagging doubt of whether he would actually get to the goal-line. Or get tripped up at the one-yard-line as time expired. Similar questioning of the eventual outcome for Joe M although he never really had a fear — but became so immersed in other peoples’ lives that he expressed a yearning to simply go meet his maker — it was a matter of when not if. The definitively defining day in the sun, or son, for him that set him well upon his course, and riding on his horse, was more like 19 minutes of the total 20 he used, in their exactness of meaning, as he defined for me my life, and so uncannily and accurately what was to come. Another turn of 180. Both set and/or viewed at a sports bar, with some circumstances we can all relate to, but still in other ways completely their own thing.
Simply put, he read the handwriting on the wall and palm after being pulled away from a game of pool, of a situation that had not been seen before, in that initial conversation of less than a half-hour, then predicted with stunning ability what would happen in that realm, for me and many others, for many years afterward. Joe M was a longtime psychic who said he’d never seen anything like my circumstances. He got wrapped up in this revelation and it was his bittersweet joy and his demise. He did not see 50, dying of what was officially termed a heart attack, but brought about by terrible stress, essentially giving his live for his newfound cause.
I have been vague, but this is The Never-Ending Story with many dozens of chapters to cover, so for another post. Suffice it to say, he stumbled into the much-needed helping along of a very tight relationship that had been sabotaged, and the emotional pain trickled down into a broad network of like-minded people that was represented in what looks like an old-school computer flow chart, and worked to eventually right the ship through a very long and arduous process that sucked him in, via a scenario that could change the conversation involving some of the basic tenets of psychology.
I was one of those he helped “save.” We assume its been — and coming up again through death and eulogy — the same necessary though vicarious result for his lookalike. Although not someone I would spend my every minute with, let it now be known Joe M, you are my Blood Brother.

Joe W thus says a true goodbye to Joe M. Rest In Psychic-ness, as best you can.

Four different and diverse ways/deals/offers/specials. Some seasonal, as we have spring/summer. Some shandies, or quite shady as from Sam Adams.
The 4 North salon, as it says on its signs, will get you as tan-ready — multiple times already — as my new, fresh-off-college, friend/twice-a-week bartender at The Agave, only nights, and doing service as a day server once a week, giving her a window of time for tanning. To mash some of the 4 North messages together and paraphrase: “Let” us spring forth and get your hair set for summer with a new do, since you needed a break after we did you up for spring break. Lest you stay too light in skin tone. To avoid this, just leave it all on the floor, veer left and go in the door. But not for lettuce. That would be up on The Hill.
When Winter turns to summer and its shandies, seasonal varieties need to be discounted, as known by this average Joe, whose last name is Winter. Leading the way is the dark Winter-named variety by Sam Adams. (Do Gomez and Morticia know about this? Wednesday is not of age, until her Thursday birthday. If it makes her 21, that will be the ultimate rager.) So hey, when I found that for a short time, you and/or I can get it in the sign-on-it-says shopping cart up-front at The Spirit Seller, for only $5.99. Dangerous bit of knowledge.
The Kwik Trip last chance Friday delivery is/was at 50 cents, and in this new summer season you could get a gallon of ice cream for under five bucks — minus said fee. Right Said Fred on a good Friday. He adds on his social media site that what goes round (like his small tush) comes around, so there will soon be a revisiting of this special, as well as a new concert tour, (just embellishing very broadly). This ice cold treat was billed as a hot deal to melt for. So much so, for need of further explanation, that the minimum was listed at $5, followed by a plus sign, followed by an asterisk, followed by a period.
Also shown on a sign. “Waiting for a sign? This sign might be that sign.” Come on in and take advantage of what the specials on their sign say — they being Bennett’s. You don’t even have to sign up. This effort was earlier announced with chalk on the sidewalk; much like had been done years earlier when this building housed something far different, the Dibbo’s rock club.

Here are two WWI-tuned tearjerkers for you too, from YouTube, that aren’t simply anti-war rants, and come from metalheads when they tone down the guitar and ramp up the emotion along the lines of what soldiers are thinking while their collective lives are on the line. And do a tribute to those who faced the unfaceable.
“Paschendale” by Iron Maiden is lyrically superb, verse after verse. They get at the guts of horrible trench warfare and spill it out in front of you. And after the ’80s, their war themes became lyrics fodder for so many other bands.
Then of course there’s “1916,” and the brand new Sabaton version (and they have so many vital historical lessons like this one that focus on the little known) is impossible to view without being touched, but I like better the far-earlier one of the late Lemmy of Motorhead, who normally is a rather raspy screamer, engagingly a bit hoarse, but still has soul. This track is just beautiful, even the strains of Lemmy’s toned-down vocals.
At first I thought that this song, like some war epics, was too romanticed with the soft lilt in their otherwise strong voices, as war is just plain ugly. But it gets into the psychology of the soldier’s mind, and what they need and invariably don’t get, then tells the tale of the horrors of war in a way that’s not really graphic, but in its simplicity still has powerful lines. And Iron Maiden’s many anti-war anthems are more palatable because of their theatric and operatic, high-energy nature, making them seem almost like advocacy. But people still say such songs just make them inexplicably joyful.
These are, first and foremost, a call to not only pay tribute to the fallen warriors, and the loved ones left behind, but make sure their stories will forever be told. And coax others, listeners and artists, to do the same. Never forget.
Not since Metallica’s masterpiece video, One, has there been such an overwhelmingly strong case made for a cause and belief (euthanasia). One that will turn you into a blubbering mess of tears. And you might not last a minute.
I recognize that chiseled-chin, slightly turned-up look. I’ve seen it when saying goodbye to friends. Trying to be stoic only moments before completely falling apart. So here is an exercise: Look at 1916 all the way through, to see if you can identify the musical reactor in a transition period, and squirming and fidgeting with things like fingers touching face and even forehead — at the moments when the singer delivers an especially poignant line.
As I wrote earlier, every generation has its own strengths, and moreso challenges, some more trying then others. But here’s been nothing like this, and its ilk.
Adding to it are the motions of the singer with his arms, and the occasional fist, closed or extended, that seem to be just pleading for a better way, honoring the dead as demonstrated by leading a filmed march through a street of one of the England towns that literally lost all its men of service age in just a day or two.
Even bad-ass metal guys, like reactor David Heretic, can have an emotional meltdown.
How’d it play out?
At the second word of the second line into the song, Heretic is tearing up already.
A few minutes later, eyes at length not dry, he noted there’s 3:41 still left, even if mostly credits. But it is cool to give length credit to those other than creditors.
This reaction became a well-chosen rant, among the three types of analysis he cites during intros.
As a fitting counterpoint, the cello as soft lead is maxed out, again, in a still minimum way.
In the depths of the evening, I looked at more reactions to 1916. The reactor was so touched that she wasn’t just misty-eyed, she was sobbing. And even a GERMAN couple was left speechless, and in the final minutes of analysis had a meltdown. I’d never seen a European with eyes so bloodshot from tears. The same for a “Viking,” even though he comes from a culture that formerly practiced cruel war and raiding methods.
I’m sorry, said some of these reactors, especially the Germans, when their eyes grew moist. Sorry for what? Being human?
It’s powerful with a cathartic subpoint that gets you revved up, but at the same time it leave you disgusted and angry and even a bit sick to your gut, not the norm of such songs which usually are oddly inspirational.
A reactor’s takeaway on why to view: Do it for me. And do it for you.
Just looked at the “1916” video and historical commentary again, multiple times. Interesting just how spot-on it is as far as historical fact. Also, although a tribute to fallen soldiers, it is tinged with sarcasm. And it turns out that part of the song is a criticism of enforced conscription — “we added two years to our ages.” When those 16-year-olds did that so they could sign-up, rules were bent and they were accepted. Regarding their race to take up arms, even though not yet men, their piss and vinegar just took them in, but not like a mother’s arms.
Until you look at history, you more fully understand the line, “we were food for the gun.” To start the battle, 10,000 untrained volunteer soldiers were marched for strategic reasons — I hate that — into a barrage of machine gun bullets. “Plunging on into certain death,” to again bring in Maiden lyrics and Up the Irons.
Noteworthy, too, is that in the cover art for Motorhead’s version, there are almost a dozen flags, the biggest a British, but also even Chinese and Russian. Also noteworthy is the absence of a U.S. flag, only one for Lemmy’s Motorhead.
Shown were a slowly marching Muslim, laid-flat black man with scarred and scared face looking skyward, helmeted Roman soldier/Centurian, four men on horses, young women bucking the trend with very short hair, and Orientals, but not a ninja. There also were shown twice, when it comes to those Japanese, and even a British fighter pilot who is a woman and looking dapper in her uniform to get a Madonna vibe as she emerges from a bombed out building. (Lemmy as such, has been accused of being a Nazi sympathizer, but in truth he just collects their attire and related items because he thinks that many military uniforms present a striking, how should I say this, professionalism. He is a complex man.) Air and ground elements brought together. And there’s a guitar guy decked out in, theme here, Revolutionary War garb.
At times a score of 11 is given by a reactor, maxing out beyond the top ten. When: Let Vin and Sori tell you: Only when the song is required listening for all human beings.
Over a million lives were lost, in total, in this battle and the 1916 video clip gives a breakdown of when and how fast. One startling figure was that more than 300,000 were killed in short order just to gain a few miles of turf. I think it was only the equivalent of five kilometers. One soldier died every 4.4 seconds.
I sent a message to a friend, about her father, and said while getting ahead of myself that he was killed in battle. But still, a set of war injuries sent him on a long and slow, downward spiral that led to death, even if not directly or immediately. Our takeaway: If he had fallen right away, she never would have been born.
What is a life worth? Apparently in this case, one-50,000th of a mile, Heretic said.
Or it might be asked, of all oppressors, what cost is a person’s soul worth?
No form of music has more power to transform than metal. Even if done in ballad form.

Looking down at the low-to-the-ground powertakeoff on a seemingly out-of-place tractor, parked just down the way from Ziggy’s music club, as I walked down the street. Could this be the Farm Aid concert all over again?
Trailing behind it was a trailer that could have housed a pony such as a Shetland but not a full horse, as not even this occurrence with its need that I will show you below has such horsepower. But it was adorned with logos of dozens of sponsors, but for what cause.
The potent plague that is Parkinson’s. As it is seen not necessarily from here to eternity, but from here to a far coast, as there are victims everywhere, more and moreso.
To summarize. The tractor was being taken on a trek from a start in the lower Midwest, to the upper Midwest, then all the way westward across several states.

— And what, there’s even more such need afoot? You know a benefit is for a worthy cause when it gets the Dweebs to play for a full four hours. Springsteen style length. Even more than the local tribute band for The Boss.
Larry Larson is battling stage 4 brain cancer that Mayo was not able to fix, although he’s been back and forth after an initial surgery, and there will be a fundraising event to help him live out his days as best he can, on May 25 at Big Guys BBQ Roadhouse, just up the road from here. As there will still be a long road for Larry and even moreso his family.
The longtime legendary show band that like many has only gotten better and rockier with time plays from 7-11 p.m. And if you think you are worthy to be an opening act — and hey I am not worthy so will not grace you with my presence, unfortunately, only bow down to others who are killer — there is karaoke from 5-7 p.m. And plenty of BBQ dishes, five by my count, during and after. Raffles too.
These days it seems to be a truism, does it not, that as times get tougher for just about everyone, more and more the financial brunt for families hit with a sudden need comes down to such benefits, and we’re not talking just a brunch. You can see the writing on the wall by looking at the changing pace on just about any bulletin board, at places like nightclubs and what have you. And we have come to need them all.

And so many of the backstories just tug all the way back at your heartstrings. And one seems to top the previous one, as more announcements are crammed into the limited room on the spongy, squared spaces. Larson, for example, recently retired and also then married the love of his life, Erin. And now they face this. Relatedly, news of the first benefit of doubtlessly many for slain deputy Kaitie Leising, she only 29, has just trickled past this desktop.

In all cases, about these losses that speak for themselves, enuf said. —

Bringing back in the tractor, it isn’t that big in size, but it packs a big punch. Medically. Emotionally. Physically. Actually, both of these things do.

This bright green tractor is no partially broken-down old Farmall H. It would have to trek on until Washington, D.C. or the state on the other end of the country? (Help out in a corn field along the way?)

Hey, the Parkinson’s it strives to battle can be a real pain. (Imagine if you are a farmer?) People are only now realizing just how painful.
So says Ozzy and so many other rock stars who now have it, at an advanced age. There must be some common theme in their genetics.
But someone has to drive those things like tractors cross-country. Like over-the-road truckers. (What other kind is there?) So pay them more than a historical farmer’s wage.
The hiring wars have come and gone and evolved, and the way they were fought changing as conditions changed, although how much may be a matter of degree. But right now, hirings are on again.
At Brick’s Pizza, they need a dishwasher. Since they have their completely own take on pizza pie, this is a position requiring special skill, (or would that be the chef and/or cook). Other places have the help wanted sign placed for a whole host of other job descriptions. Some of these ads are shown on legs and on placards, some quite small, out on the sidewalk, or taking up a meager part of a glass door. But they are big enough to list in full phrases all kinds of work that needs doing. Shown in type with 72 point letters?

And concerning nearby San Pedro Cafe, they are looking quite descriptively for “passionate” line cooks who make from scratch and who are looking to hone their culinary skills. Call or email or stop in.
These days you might carry out such applications via one of those annoying (unless you are looking for work) small square boxes with black and white squiggles, and even designing such boxes might get you six figures, I would think. I first noticed the newest big but small thing a few months ago on the side of a cab.
Or you could just go the old school way, with two words melded into one to display “arbysjobs,” complete with quirky consonant use mid-word. Reminds me of the “handle,” again an old school term, of one of my favorite music commentators, kirawasareactor. Can she get a handle on Handel? Or that former and now embattled politico hopeful in the Twin Cities, by the fitting name of Warsame.
And lastly, now that we are long gone with the hirings that creeped up near the $19 an hour range when there was a change in prez administrations, WalMart now has partially reverted, and for main and non-overnight shifts where they compensate you, I think, for not being able to take in live bands, to a mere rate of $15!
Here is another matter to wrestle with. Live wrestling back in Hudson, and not out at the old JR! Its downtown baby.
And for you techno phobes like me, this is in-person, not on pay per view. The guy at the counter confirmed that for me, and then glanced over and downward and nodded to the flyer of announcement, also seen all over town. I was angling my glance also, as to anecdote that mere PPV was indeed not on the card.
It was Thursday night in the Hop N Barrel parking lot, and the bout, or series of them, was on. Customers filled the expansive concrete and blacktopped floor and were evenly spaced out across it, including food trucks and the like. The ring itself, which I saw being erected earlier in the day as roadies were actually measuring with tape and such, the overall height of the ropes, was pushed back into a far corner — beyond the great big and high UHaul truck that had them housed and strung them.
So had one thought. There was not far to fall if you were thrown from north and east side, as there literally was brick wall there. On the west and south side, there was a farther fall and — again — a cement floor to smack.

What makes a song timeless? Give me some water, if I’m rocker Eddie Money, because I just shot a man on the Mexican border. Or might as well have.

If you’re Ozzy, that may be a shot in the dark.
There are refugees, (so many are children and we’ll walk you through that later), or could be called foreigners in some contexts, not only trying to cross over at Mexico, but Canada. And in all parts unknown surrounding the Ukraine. And all over Africa and its various enclave boundaries. And more. The context can even be framed by the old Statue of Liberty now crumbling with its stone-shown justice. Bring me — or at least have us tolerate — your tired, your hungry, your poor, your naked in need of clothing at least between photo shoots, your huddling masses waiting in desert areas for a possibly last cup or chalice of water and once getting past the more immediate need to be hydrated then resume their quest to be free, your most disenfranchised, your voting-rights robbed, your cell-phone-taken-back yet again as others come about by the parent company or corporation, etc. And the Title-shown need whether you call it 42, as today, or 142 or 242, is not going away.
What to make of it? Let’s go back 1,000 years, or make it 2,000 years. Or least when it thus was written and so should be done.
So OK, what did Jesus Christ have to say about — stereotypically — having over for dinner and maybe staying for breakfast the impoverished and reeking of dirt and more Mexican farmer with no teeth to eat with anyway? Be a good Christian family and live that scenario out.
Anyway, back to what Jesus said. (He was a man of complexity and you would not like him when he is righteously angry. And some things riled him more than others).
Leading the list was not to do to those little ones — of all ethnicities: And for he, or she, who would harm one of those children it would be better if a millstone were placed around their neck and they be cast into the sea. At least their boat got that far. And as has been written before on these pages, war always affects children worst. And the crux of this rant: Jesus was almost that irked when any of God’s people, especially the powerful and those with means it could be argued, hardened their heart and did not help out the foreigner in need, or being discriminated against.
OK, these days the situation with our and their borders — both sides of them — it has been wisely said by many different people the situation is messy and layered and complicated, and there are more than ten fingers to be pointed at possible culprits. To address such a situation it becomes all the more important to have words to live by, whether coming from the lips of Jesus, or Mohammad, or Buddah, or Ghandi, (OK maybe we’ll take a pass on Crowley). And not all such sages need to be religious figures, but I’ll take them over politicians. (There could be a referendum on paying more heed to the band of Baldwin brothers. But in my home state, Tammy Baldwin might have more merit, and common men and women. And from the mouths of babes).
Now my main thrust. Maybe we should Listen more to the Likes at Large of Ozzy Osbourne and Geezer Butler, and their Ironman hero-villain. There is an Easter egg here to be found in this ultimate messianic anthem, of a slain savior who rises from the dead then returns to earth to finish his work.
Biblical themes run through it, and one of them stands out as being maybe a tale of these times. I do believe that early in the song, there is a reference to the parable of the good Samaritan: “Is he live or dead, has he thoughts within his head. We’ll just pass him there, why should we even care.” This stanza seems to be linking the critically injured man in the ditch, to the lack of aid given to a messiah who is put to death. Two remaining important events in our history. OUR history, whether we be religious or not, downtrodden and downgraded Samaritan or high-falutin pharisee.
Underscoring as far as justice is a just-seen a Metallica in-concert video played out in Moscow in 1991. What were rank-and-file Russians subjected to around that time by their government, at the very least lacking freedom?
The song was Creeping Death, the deliverer, and we’ll let the first line tell the tale: “Slaves, Hebrews born to serve …” THEY were then the foreigners. There are so many parallels here, only starting with faulty pharisees and pharaohs. The crowd was getting riled up, more by each chorus, hundreds of thousands of them, some of them standing under U.S. flags, and the words were not even as aggressive and brutal as the guitar, in-your-face demanding justice (for Hebrews and Huns alike) and nothing less, screaming for vengeance. The chant grew much more bold by the syllable, “die, die, by my hand, die, die first-born man …”
As I watched this crazy scene just as if there, one thought kept creeping into my mind, as there was so much that could be gained by these ideals but ironically, there was one suddenly underclass that (also) was excluded from this parade … the lines of military police standing with hands at their sides and trying to stay stoic with their gaze. What about them? What if this mosh pit turned into a mob? These men, invariably very young, sometimes were caught in the middle of warlike politics, so was their service completely conscentual, or contentious conscription?
These policemen had to have been scared to death! What if the fans would all gather in their whipped frenzy and march on THEIR capitol. No dozen tanks could have stopped the surge.
The power of music. Especially potent metal.

These patios are killin’ it. Now live. But where does Megan Fox as a killer superhero reside? Temporarily and (mystically and mythically?) mixed and absent from The Agave.

“Brother will kill brother.” Tables will be stacked on tables, intertwining. And chairs across the land. Or at least the patios. “Something I don’t understand.”
Why, blood brothers and even twisted sisters, do these favorite spots of our watering holes ever have to close, although I concede the cold.
But in addition, has an era closed with the downgrading of that big Fox superhero with “S” photo, perched as my girl for well over a decade on the wings of the wound stairs of what had been the Twisted Grille? No, the tender Derek told me, it was just one of many memorabilia posters shelved for a while after a renovation that with cherry picker closed three or four parking spaces below for three or four weeks. Soon to rise as a captivating canine again, when there is space made on the walls among the many dozens of others. Someone tried to gain this image of goth, maybe, by theft and then bring it back. The server’s friend was also obsessed with the poster, so the wing man purchased another one as a gift. Collectively, there were scratches on paint and cracks on frame like those popping sounds being referenced in a music video as we speak, back in the day of vinyl not far back of when Megan reigned as a Transformer.
Though so enlightened, we take in at The Agave the White Room now there. That had black curtains — with a partial absence of chromos that also can be compelling, but remained within view (i.e. decorating dartboards and the walls they’re pushed up against) — and more tints. Its in the Bullpen. That upstairs cantina at the Agave Kitchen is now much brighter in look and tone and maybe tune, this new ivory tinge is way past Cream colored. But fellow bartender Allison said the color is so cool, except when you’re getting too chill with the lack of shadows, (as a buffer?), before accepting last call and heading into the night.
But to further de-digress, this and other patio-type places are now fully frontal functioning, but all the way to the back also, where they may be housing a dartboard or three. All but a few tiny tarps have been taken off the seating. Flowers are in bloom, and their garden boxes no longer topped by spurts of inch-high snow so you can view dirt, and even a few trees show color beyond buds in places. The most noteworthy such treatment is a wall of greenery that separates the south patio of Hop N Barrel and the north one of of Ziggy’s. These venues are among those getting it going first in 2023.
But as far as that, you can’t beat the new Bennett’s and its patio inside a patio — or better said, enclosed by four high walls going way up. Those walls of gold …
Make your tap tremendously tasty? A parked SUV-size van adds that they’ll clean up the beer both before and after you. Didn’t you think those glasses of brew came from somewhere, pouring forth after running through feet of plastic tubes and trying to avoid any forgotten filthiness. So there you have it, unfiltered.
Other patios are not ground level, which means some are enclosed, or at least partially. Not everyone knows, deep inside Mallory’s and down, not up to the very high rooftop reached with multiple sets of twin-stairs, there is a rather small Speakeasy with its fireplace in place, small bar in back and one fairly large room, dimly lit like the old way of the Agave. A commentator said that he was schooled by his son, who had worked there for months and knew well of what he spoke, having logged time up above but knew little of the Speakeasy. And I have only now noticed from a northern view, back windows could be seen surrounding a couch, and how the south end of their wall had plenty of lights on curved wires, and almost as many platforms that could be used as stop-offs, and one edged by a fire extinguishers and the like.
A likewise look at Champ’s in New Richmond makes it seem like a champ, with all the grooves and turns of boxlike machinery like turbines you can see — very like Pier 500 at its top — from ground level. But the Pier is the pinnacle of the nearby pier. With its broad umbrellas and its stones that form a long and high wall, the pieces so much bigger than you otherwise see. You can even spy the speckles from the street.
As far as the new seasonal completeness of its multi-faceted look with various amenities that include more than one set of stone, its Dick’s Bar. For sheer size, and the number of umbrellas if only down below, its the two-level Smilin Moose. For the urban-ish streetscape of an attractive three-story brick-based wall, to nod goes to San Pedro flowing into Pedro del Este.

Here follows yet another requisite, relentlessly rambling, retro-ish Cinco de Mayo, and then Rodgers redo.

Wholly holstered as an NFL Aaron in TD mode QB metaphor.
What, none of the Modelo that a (non-native Wisconsin?) man ordered? No problemo?
Only Corona to give. Not Coors. Could he get? That’s a different field.
There was, per signage still shown at Dick’s Bar come later on that Sunday night, its max of a weekly Mex entree. Minus Tex? Riding next to me? But only on Thursday.
Cinco was on a Friday. So if you got there in time for the cook on Thursday eve … There was still 2.5 hours after midnight — hey this is a weekend you dummy so you got until 2:30 — not two minutes before. But by that time, all you could get was a frozen pizza, and that’s only if its unusually slow as it has been at times, as the kitchen has closed for the night.
But did he not speak the language, as it seemed and was said by the server, in true Yoda speak?
This solitary Mexican man had sipped, walked around back to the darts area, sipped then walked around again, then quitely quietly left. But the two bills tip was cool.
This branched off into a discussion of the AI, used for both letters and language, that the server said will kill off all writing such as this. (More of that breakdown in a later post).
So yet another one bites the dust, this time at our end of the state. Thus again, all here and there really look like Rodgers, with his deftly trimmed and tinted and Aaron’s-not-going Amish, State Farm and not-a-long-string beard. Who kinda, to back up here, looks like Jesus. Or Queen? Various members.
An all-in appeal?
Pitino was, it turns out. As another in a string, he’d accepted a college coaching gig at St. John’s University, introduced by a good father with a collar and telling the padre he was all-in with what the institution offered. I guess that will include every Sunday Mass.
But to a bit more recent draft and its asterisks. Such as the one alluding to “secondary compensation.” And the next time referenced, stretched out to a full seven words of description. Seventh inning stretch? For a futbal-to-celebrate-Cinco owner who it was read “would be out for a few weeks.” Do we even have to give that bit of info for the team’s owner too? Even if its of the St. Paul United Team that’s ranked as the 41st-highest-valued soccer squad in the world?
And to care for and nurture such fields? They are bigger in soccer. Even if its the money of US Bank and its proprietary field with their tallies … $48 million over the next year and $280 million over the next decade, Strib-stated. Too many concerts tearing up the grass? Or not enough to raise the dough for more grass seed and more? Need reunion tours?
Or even enough to just buy fluffy muffs for everyone’s ears, before their buds are aflower? That’s what was worn at Hudson Tap when there still was somewhat of cold, by a couple of women shooting pool, along with fingerless gloves. And more to the point, showing lots of bare midriff.
Fickle flaunted fluff?
But now such looks are everywhere. As at NFL in NY training camp gunslinger sightings, on the groupie-ish green-grass sidelines? Therefore, reference another almost omnipresent sports guru, productive traveling talker Scott Van Pelt as he may again hit the pop-up stadiums in virtually every state.
Then we spin off to other recent styles, still with weather permitting, but curiously only after Winter started ebbing. Set the stage with the Agave sign on May Day: Last chance for April specials.
The women at the mid-town corner qualified. They trended by wearing comfie boots that were sturdy and stout and also flashy, and one praised the other’s newfound functionality while she stepped over the street-curb on Main.
That was south of the Mason Jar shop, where it was mentioned, one woman to another, “there is no beer anymore.” Was there ever that kind of frothy stuff put into their jars?
Alas, to take this piece full-circle, but before Cinco, a salsa queen as her red sash proclaimed, sashayed this way in the very early afternoon. With killer also-brown boots-flats, but these had what looked like dozens of laces dripping down. Boot to the head for the functional.

First there was Favre and now this.
The ghost of Curly Lambeau is rolling over in his grave. He never would have forsaken The Pack.
At least Aaron Rodgers did not go Purple, so on goes their plight to purge at that position.
But now past his career’s apex, the Big Apple awaits. And the former Green Bay QB is going to take as much of a bite out of it as he can. And he has been at large. Before officially donning the green of the Jets and the green it will bring his bank account. He has said he’ll be at half — a majority? — of the New York practices, at least for football, come training camp. Take that to mean a mere 51 percent. Half-staff as other adventures beckon. (Ask actress Alba, who was not fully known by a compadre while at courtside. A cornerback not the quarterback).

— The mind boggles with this latest sandwich eight-item-entry into the warm-weather market. See it in Picks of the Week.

And we are more in sync with Cinco de Mayo, sort of, even though as the Mexican population in the U.S. keeps increasing — and a buddy of mine and I just had a silly discussion on the new and milder-skinned minority — rank-and-file American foodies and drinkers more and more are steering away from this independence holiday.
But this is what you need to know if you do celebrate, then worry about the siesta later since it is a Saturday that follows. When even the most standard Mex-made-out-to-be drinks usually go for more than just $3, you can get that real good stuff on special on Cinco for that price at the Wild Badger in New Richmond, in an atmosphere that is more club than just standard pub.
But no definitive word on the local presence of mole poblana, the actually definitive max-out Mex, based on the history of the Battle of Pueblo, where Mexicans gained their freedom from a country that gets dissed again, that being France, (but not from American borders).
Turns out, forego tacos and margaritas, actually Mexicans on this holiday mash in ingredients such as sweet bread, a walnut-based cream sauce, pomegranite seeds, a chocolate blend with chilis, and even something I’d not heard of called papalo herbs.
And that mole poblano, it is baked with corn leaves and banana husks, (oops, I got those two greens transposed). —

As this is His indeed Coming Out Party, like we have never seen, and an Aaron party it has been. Taking The City That Never Sleeps to another level. Taking in more than one sporting event a night? And if overtime is needed, so much the better. There will still be a last call after that last period. But there would be no (early eliminated) Bucks, although he (now) has the bucks to splurge for an Adrian Peterson-style get-together with a hundred or two of his closest friends. And even in downtown Hudson, the relatively frequent sightings of Rodgers lookalikes has picked up, although some have a grayer (in takes) and longer beard if taking in, what, a ZZ Top tribute band in town? And that guy over at Hudson Tap was also in this vein, throwing out a John Wick take on it.
Back at the start of all this lengthy rearrangement, and you could say it goes back as far as grunge, (just kidding), there was the signing of a first key wideout as part of the messiah series, so you’ve got The Jets Lazard in what could be compared to The Jesus Lizard. The bard references an old alt band.
Of course that was only the start of such signings, of all considered Rodgers friendly. Linemen too. Backs of all kinds, half and full but no quarter, playing all kinds of positions. And a new QB coach? A full one-quarter of the players in the NFL were considered to be brought in, (again just kidding), as when you are in football as long as Rodgers you entail an elaborate entourage. So many having played with Rodgers and could be part of a Super Bowl run, which was not thought a possibility a few weeks, or months, ago. About the only one still holding out is The Waterboy as in Adam Sandler (just kidding a third time).
After the third day, the groundhog saw his black shadow. Oh wait, that was the much more cerebral signal-caller coming out of His First Darkness Retreat, (and give him kudos for coming out with that action in a largely non-thinking society). And Jets flew overhead. Being piloted by Rodgers himself? But no, as even Aaron cannot fly more than one at once. But he had reached a state of enlightenment after being in close consultation with … himself. Now Jet City Man. Just watch out for (hibernating) Bears in that cave. As we waited for his decision for what seemed a whole (post)season.
But methinks during his retreat, Rodgers could not have read the Jets playbook to see if playing into his future was long passes, not easy screens, because after all … he was in darkness.
Just contemplate the meaning of life. And rich football players in it. Talk about living in a cave.
But back in Titletown, the replacement QB in Love got a contract extension, show him some love as Jordan, but not as Rivers, as in Philip.
But the extension is only for one year — and the Green Bay brass has said they won’t expect Jordan Love and his style of play to be another Aaron — so maybe they think Rodgers might indeed play a Favre and come back?
However, recently, the Jets have declined their option with some players at other positions, but not as vital, although indeed bulky.
But for now, as in last night, Randall Cobb comes clinging back, too.
What goes around comes around, like a hook and go.