It is time for not only new years resolutions but also regifting in a way that you are showing your age, and they might be one and the same:
— Have you vowed to take in less concerts in the new year, and resell those tickets and grab the cash, but then some old war horses (is that good or bad?) called it their farewell tour, so you have to make a choice? There is Lynyrd Skynyd, Elton John, Bob Segar and of course KISS, and there are local connections to the first two, and in both cases, the musicians are showing their age. A local roadie for Skynyrd met up with me way back when Pier 500 was then Sunset’s, and even that far back in the day, so you have to wonder how much worse it could get in the here and now, the roadie said their livers were failing. All the more reason to stopping touring and the excess that goes with it. And as far as Elton John, a local bar manager said that when he was working a similar gig at The X, he was cautioned by staffers not to disturb Elton from his nap being taken in the next room over, even though there were questions to be answered. Again. we’re not young punks anymore, who can just go on Adrenalin, or God knows what else, as we are all showing our age …
— The joke was running around at a local pharmacy, and we must note profusely that we are just kidding, that their products are never the ones to be regifted. (This could be not only the potent stuff, but weight loss too, as you might guess). Also, there is a sign that says — and it could have been better worded — that they are a center for packets to drop off old medications, then adding “please take all that you need and give them to others you know.” That joke went further that if you indulge too much, they can reverse that trend through prescriptions and put you back in balance … for most kinds of hangovers. Again, don’t take us too seriously.
— A guy I know found that his gifted new pants were not anywhere close to closing with the zipper in the front, and we agreed that because of what that might be indicating, there could be a UP side to that situation. As it was, the two-part unclosed zipper helped form basically a V. The size of his manhood must have meant victory!
— This one is unlikely to be regifted. A cute young friend of mine received a brand new car as a present, but she noted at length that what really meant so much to her were the cards with a handwitten sentiment.
— They had the meats to help ring in 2019, but again today, when on your new years diet, you might be happy that you didn’t find out sooner. A local nightspot was offering for dinner turkeys at 20 pounds and hams at 17 pounds.
— A couple we know put out word on Facebook that they were throwing a new years party at their place, and said it was come one, come all, even if they do not know you. They said all are welcome at their house, no matter who they are, to just hang out, sample some munchies, listen to music or watch it on TV, whatever. On this eve it backfired, however — which will make them try again with the next prominent holiday — as the weather was bad and it was out in the country and only a couple of couples showed. The sponsoring couple added that they’ve always had a good turnout with this procedure in the past — and that each time there was someone who came who nobody knew from Adam.
— An online offer from my late-night social media said this on New Year’s Eve: “The countdown begins … Save 77 percent until midnight.” Got it. Just won’t respond, at least until after the new year hits, (like maybe now, because if you believe the ongoing … and ongoing … and ongoing hype, the offer will continue forward and not yet be expired). Have been too busy to reply to the offer, as in this new year, per resolution, too many things to do, people to see …
— And the shout-out has been given involving the One Block Fun Run, and it comes from the llama, described in the flyers as being the only one of those mascots to attend the event, which is unusual. There usually are two or more. So that llama has put out the all-call to redo the run — which actually took place last Saturday, Jan. 12 — a week after the fact with more animals showing (OK we’re just kidding about that updating of the event). Adding to the update is that the flyers that advertised the “run” said this would be an “energetic” feat of athleticism. After a full morning of sucking discounted Bloody Mary’s, again, we doubt it.

What did you think of the NYE rock bands Ponzi Scheme and Heartless? Did it beat that new years kiss?
— This was said, by a longtime regular, (now on-again, off-again since she’s older, but hey everybody is out on new years), of the Hudson-North Hudson scene, on the band Ponzi Scheme at the Village Inn: “They are a great band. Very tight. I just love them.”
— And when it came to the cover band Heartless at Ziggy’s, their vocals were dead-on just like those of the Wilson sisters with that famous twist of partial twang, and the intro chording to the classic Barracuda was also spot on, with a bit of extra guitar fills thrown into the riffs for good measure.
— Pity the man who doesn’t make it to Dick’s on time to ring in the new year. I was almost that guy, but the one I was kissing and I pulled up at 11:58 and decided to do it outside, to the sounds of the radio. I got out and went to the passenger side and its open window to get closer, leaning over to check the clock on the dashboard. When the time came, it was whamo! Then we entered Dick’s only to find that the people there were still kissing, as we had jumped the gun by about 25 seconds!
— In the next room over, where there was a deejay, there was the appearance as seen from afar of fog filling the dance floor. And I found out later that yes, there was a fog machine doing its thing here and there, an added New Year’s Eve treat.
— Once inside Dick’s, it was full to the gills. Said the doorman: “It’s really packed in here. But nothing like at The Moose, where its shoulder to shoulder.” And I thought it was S to S at Dick’s itself, and how to you get more people in then that? Does this break fire code?
— Going around the horseshoe at Dick’s, I saw a woman whose look stood out for two reasons: (1) her bare arms were covered with a long string of tattoos, and (2) her low cleavage had the look of being basically bare itself.
— This has got to be right in there for any story about new years. A Lindsay Lohan look-alike was seen out and about, and of course, by shortly after midnight with plenty of partying time left, she was too trashed to walk.
— Upon exiting Dick’s, with Ziggy’s the next stop, this phone conversation was overheard: “I can just buy a camera and we can get a room.” And a week earlier: Twas the night before Christmas, a friend of mine who lives in low-income housing lamented, and “someone” came knocking at the door of the low-life across the hall. Jingle bells attached? Hmm…
— At Ziggy’s two outfits stood out: One especially, was a woman decked out in burlesque style, complete with lots of cuts to her outfit to reveal even more skin, and (2) another woman wore a white sweater that put the fuzz back in fuzzy, and her date had his hand fixated firmly on her butt, dangerously close to her, ahem.
— But the best two looks, as judged by the beauty of those who wore them, had the same characteristics: very short skirt, pale hosiery, and high clunky heels.
— And a last note from a place over in the Cities, where unlike or until Wisconsin you could only stay open until 2 a.m. (Small time!) The place planned because of the leeway that gave to reopen the following morning at 8 a.m. rather than the 11 a.m. norm. And at the bar was a guy sporting a No. 23 jersey of a former Chicago Bear by the name of Hester. Might want to lay low with that one, considering what his alma mater just did in dismantling the Vikings playoff hopes.

Holy Rollers! Maybe if not for long holiday hours, you’d have the full staff to get fixes as readily made as the instant hot spot food, and have even quicker hot dogs and their fixings to go with your feasting — and accompany the ham.
— The Freedom station had a late-night difficulty, as the front hot dog roller machine was out of order. That left only the back one operating. I quipped that the workers, who I should add fixed the problem in short order, could make up the difference by cutting the hot dogs in half and roasting part on each machine. Or, wait a minute, I’ve got that trickery backwards. (Then a staffer said she didn’t have the beef so much on her mind, as she’d worked many days in a row, as getting home for the holidays). My reversal was unlike when Kozy Korner next door opened with their bar at 11 a.m. on Christmas Day, then went on to close, with the kitchen shuttered all day. But don’t fret, there was a sloppy Joe special all day. But my idea was that for that fact of full hours, you’d get seriously less sandwiches, as they’d be spread out over 15 hours. Or is that the way that works?

— Many places that are primarily grill and bars had lesser hours on Christmas Day, or none at all, but as far as Starr’s Bar, which is primarily a tavern although by all accounts having great and unique food, is most notable for taking the day off on the 25th so workers could have Christmas with their families. First in line for the non-Grinch award.
— Bartender Sue at the Village Inn was working the late shift on Christmas Day, and was sporting a holiday outfit that was part Mrs. Santa dress and stocking cap, part ugly sweater and part German deirndle.
— Then there was worn a huge head topper, ala The Cat In The Hat, that was almost as wide as it was tall. Also, an associate was giving those cartoon antlers a workout, worn while putting in her time through virtually all of the Christmas holiday. Finally, with a day off almost a half-month providing service, would she be social with this opportunity? Rather, she said she’d get away from people entirely and curl up in bed with her PJs and watch Netflix. Two others who also worked the entirety of the holiday’s shifts, say they also have just been making the best of it.
— The holidays would be celebrated by one North Hudson woman by spending more than a day at relatives there, then trekking to another spot nearby in The Valley, then relaxing at Starr’s Bar in a talkative way late on Dec. 23. And where to go on the next two days? Iowa. Without Slipknot. She has my sympathies.

— This has got to be an ultimate Christmas present, for a bartender studying to further her art career, and from her grandfather no less, not her parents. And only in this day would such a gift be so prized. What is it? Tuition money!

— Should some of them be called lefty? Especially since the Vikings just lost to Chicago — now again called, and rightly so, Da Bears — and now are out of the playoff picture. To the point, there was a video rendition of one of Favre’s past Minnesota days, in which I saw it in a mirror and he was throwing left-handed! That’s how you pack it in. Along those lines, I ran into an old fan of the Vikes who said he had a bad feeling that his team was going to lose by about a touchdown. Close, or so he said. And despite all that, he still sported his purple Viking stocking cap late on the night before New Year’s Eve.
— There was one last rendition of that sweater song by Weezer right before New Year’s. It was said from one server to another, Ah, did you play this? Well, uh. That was at Buffalo Wild Wings, where earlier there were a lot more people in the place, and at time unlike near to closing, more patrons than staff. One of those patrons, from a time before, was squeezed in next to the bar rail, and had to position each of his butt cheeks on a separate but adjacent stool.
— Then it was, as befits the holiday season, the Badgers in a bowl bonanza. Maybe not. The luster might not have been there. This was the Pinstripe Bowl, and the sponsoring corporation, (there always seems to be one of them), was … ah … The Yankees? It was duly noted that this game could have been a rare bowl blowout, if not for mistakes by both teams that included a few interceptions and a pair of missed field goals by UW. Alas, the big mammal-mascot-crew prevailed quite easily toward the end.

Of King Football, and its no turkey, and something we still care far less about, regional elections, (or was this time around an exception?):

— Just hours before game time, on sports bar TV, the Mighty Minnesota Vikings, as they were called, got ready to face the New England Patriots in the NFL game of the week. It should be noted, to show the prominence of the contest, that the head ref was in his 16th year as an official, and even more importance was soon gained, especially around time the Viking game started, that the Packers had lost in the last moments. (Even as I am here at my computer, I can hear the moans from the Village Inn). Of course, there was possibly a different reaction at the more Viking friendly venues that are the first over the river into Hudson. But that didn’t last, as Minnesota soon dropped to a 10-0 deficit against Tom Brady, et. al. There was the brief reprieve of a Thielen TD, but the margin of eventual victory was so gleeful that Brady, who has strong Twin Cities roots, was seen out and about that night in the metro singing karaoke (OK we made that up). His supermodel wife is more the person you would want to see anyway, as the aging Thomas is looking a bit haggard at press conferences.
— Colors were shown well before halftime during the Vikings less-than-frigid contest at Seattle, leaving just a (rainy?) purple skin tone on the players, which is only halfway to the numb blue that the thermometer was indicating back in this area. Meanwhile, the glowing lime colored jerseys for Seattle stood out, at least for a time, as that pattern shown on a sports bar fan locally, who pointed initially to his less-then-neon green sweatshirt, then to his bold shoes (especially the laces). Alas, there was no green plus gold to be seen anywhere
— The Village Inn has taken their marquee to a whole new level, not just words but graphics, too. So was it any surprise that there was an actual photo of the fired Mike McCarthy displayed early this week, along with the Incubus-style words, (yes there was still them), “Nice to know you.” But by comparison, what about the fired viking offensive coordinator, who apparently became very offensive — OK that was an easy joke. And over the-long-forgotten-at-this-point Thanksgiving holiday, and replicated later, there was portrayed not a turkey, but a dancing cartoon chicken to bolster their food special of the day. And I can tell you from taking in that “winner, winner chicken dinner,” this special is no turkey.
— During the recent (does that reference still pass muster?) election buildup, the sheriff’s race just over the river was even inflicted on us western Wisconsin people this side of the river, as the ads in the various newspapers and TV stations from Minnesota had a crossover effect to us here. Like we care who wins the Washington County sheriff’s race. (The only concern we as Cheeseheads would have is putting somebody in office who would tone down the hyper-aggressive, late-night driver enforcement — what you’ve never seen the swarming Under The Bridge?) One of the past heads of that department was just a total pill anyway.
— And one last reference that just might get me in trouble, (SERIOUSLY FOLKS, WE’RE JOKING), is when one of my open-mic band associates ran me up on stage at moment’s notice during the intro to sing an Eric Clapton song, and since I didn’t know all the words, I ad libbed as such: “I shot the sheriff, of St. Croix County, and on my head, he has put a bounty.” Again, we’re just joking. What we are not joking about is calling some of the drummers and guitarists “associates.” What is this Wal-Mart? And their Muzac? (Sorry to dredge up yet another ’80s reference).
— One other “associate” has blatantly taken credit for getting actual western Wisconsin political candidates and, gasp!, getting them to advertise in TV ads that originate in the metro, but have spillover effect almost to Eau Claire. She wrote to Tammy Baldwin to suggest this, and then bingo, (a Wisconsin reference), there was such a plug on a major network out of Minneapolis-St. Paul. Then Gov. Walker got on board and ran his own spiel in the same manner, although a lot of these ads were in the a.m. hours. Hey, could this all be part of the Border Battle economic development wars started up under former Gov. Thompson? And yes, when it comes to the pretense of bringing businesses from Minnesota to the Hudson area, we are well aware of his, uhm, “side action.”
— A last political note stems from the sign that was seen a long time at the Holiday Station downtown. It said, seriously: Guatemalan. 99 cents. (Has immigrant labor gotten that cheap?) Almost like the wages paid to bartenders in those next few blocks, and hoping they are getting tips better than that previously mentioned Guatemalan rate!
— On the online news, the Motley Fool CEO made what was called a bold double (down) — Frank Zappa-ish dancing fool as well — to spur the effectiveness of his business. To quote the “late, great,” to use the term of one of my favorite karoake-meisters, Ronnie James Dio: “Fool, fool, you got to bleed for the dancer, fool, fool, look for the answer.

People got their freak on well after Halloween had officially closed its doors leading to hell:

— On the weekend after Halloween, there still was dressed up with a zombie-ish white face — which after all is topical in the news — and after that fact also having pale vampire appeal. It turned out to simply be sporting lots of makeup. And then there was in red-face the silliest looking devil you could imagine, far from frightening.
— Dick’s billed its Halloween party as the “freakiest” show in town. Then up the hill at Lucky’s, which is becoming known for its holiday sales blowouts, one of those specials has been Freakshow cabernet and red blend. It sports on the label a circus sideshow worker, much like some of the costumes to be seen at Dick’s. Others on Wednesday for Halloween itself were based on the fixations of freaky and still cool hairpieces and colorings, and at the end of the night, the workers from a competing bar who closed just in time for last call, and both came over sporting knee-high white socks with blue circular trim. Two of those servers are Kendall and Alex, oddly enough the name when combined, minus a bad vowel or two, of Alix Kendell, the metro TV weather women. (Is that a weird term or what?) And even weirder is the role of my new friend Jennifer, who I might call a wing women.
— No, that’s not batman buying cigs, as the late night clerk suggested, rather Darth Vader, and to boot he still gets IDed to prove his name. But even with that big ‘ol mask, the clerk said, I do recognize you. But I do have to card extraterrestrials.
— What, are some of those white lumps recently stuck in the tree crevice the knobs of bones from my Halloween yard display, or wait, on closer inspection they are actually the circular shapes of mushroom heads.
— And with that said, what did I do on my roof this year to scare trick or treaters with moving props, myself being one of them, to be different from other years. This time I had, from various satellite dishes from cable companies whose bills are scarier then their equipment, three flying saucers threatening to slice me in two, as I screamed at the kiddies. And one of my three helpers this year had three sets of all kinds of different hand tools with which to craft bird houses in spring and monsters in fall.
— Not to joke concerning the mentally handicapped, hey its been argued I am there myself, but this is post-Halloween and lets just have some scary fun and not all take each other so seriously.
So zombies take notice — as far as the late night ad specifying the main warning sign of dementia, it is … uh, well, dementia. But more on the idea that good things (or bad) come in threes, there are these examples: (1) Above the main bar area of the Village Inn, there are three (count ’em) three, ghosts hanging from the ceiling rail, which itself was looking much like the bar rail below. (2) On that theme, a on late night, gee where am I driving foray through a residential area, there were three monsters hanging from trees on a small lot that simply didn’t have room for any more. (3) Lastly, threes ruled the roost for events at Kozy Korner, at all times of the day or night. Friday night there was a fish fry, Saturday morning a Badger game, and then Sunday evening the Packers.

Bushy eyebrows, spider webs and another iron maiden were early signs of this Halloween holiday. And don’t forget the half-Shriner, half-elephant:
— As was done at the Smilin’ Moose a while back on a sign featuring the faces promoting 2 Gingers Irish Whiskey, a prankster drew facial hair on a couple of the men on ads in the men’s room at the Village Inn, but we just have one question. What’s with the bushy eyebrows? Maybe you are not concerned, but come Halloween, the Devil may care. So we need the beauty sense of those two Irish lasses put to good use and compensate with a trim. After all, if those two redheads can look great when given even more freckles …
— And when it comes to such decorating, in preparation for Halloween, there was noteworthy the first nightclub renderings of massive spider webs early in the month, in this case at the Smilin’ Moose and even moreso in terms of the space taken up, in the entire front window of Dick’s Bar and Grill. And we also need to mention the webs spread all along the lengthy trophy case of virtual every NFL helmet at the Village Inn.
— Dick’s now has in the corner of the main bar room a second authentic iron maiden, complete with skeleton inside, to join the one in the dining room.
— The first costume seen in downtown Hudson Saturday night, Oct. 20, was a tiger, but soon waiting to get into Dick’s was a creature that was half elephant and half Shriner. the older man was queried about whether he ins an actual Shriner. He said yes. Inside there were some women sporting tiaras, but wait, they were not Halloween costumes, they were the garb for a bachlorette parties. But one women was truly equipped for the weather, wearing a full parka with hood. Another had the fur coat that showed, I’m assuming, that she was costumed to please a pimp.
— Five women put loads of country music on the jukebox that night, then did a boot stomping dance in front of the dart boards.
— A guy who recently got a Mohawk, for the holiday got every bit of it colored bright pink. He was asked if he had ever done this before. No mam, he responded. “I was in the military so …”
— On Friday night, Oct. 19, the town was bustling earlier than usual, and seen on the main street was a Cadillac that was part Mayberry RFD and part the Ghostbusters ride. Up the way there was a street musician who was playing inside an enclosed plastic shield that was like an enlarged dog house. Also keeping him warm was a big white beard ala Jerry Garcia.
— There was snow on the last two weekends, and in the former case was a need for the tent to be erected on the pipes to block out the precipitation, at St. Patrick’s fall festival. At least it waited until Saturday night’s music was completed before coming down. The weather earlier in the weekend, by contrast, was perfect for the annual Frost Your Nuts motorcycle run. As a result, I don’t think they actually got frosted.
— My ride was late in picking me up at Dick’s and I joked with the bartenders that they must have been eaten by zombies. Then a woman sauntered up and as part of the conversation pointed out that I had a hair down over my lip. What, you can only see one hair out of place, to focus on! I had straggly ones all over my face.
— I just had to revisit a Halloween past with my friend Sarah, when she sported sexy a nurse’s oufit for the Red Cross. I asked, tongue-in-cheek, if she had heard that donations had risen by 80 percent that very day. Sarah said she was amazed, and then realized that she had been pranked and said it was her blonde moment. And where was that costume this time around? “It’s been retired,” she countered.
— Guv’s Place is again decorated to the hilt, but this time around there were no creatures on the front windows, clamoring to get in.
— A coaster nabbed at the Village Inn was outdated by virtue of advertising a January event, a tattoo convention also featuring live human suspension, burlesque and a sideshow.
— A noteworthy chef in lifesize cardboard was wearing a Packer hat and sweatshirt. Didn’t know he was a fan. And then a Freedom Value Center, a bigger than usual bobblehead of a Packer was seen. The price? A total of $19.99. Hopefully the Pack can turn it around and we can all party like its that year.
— Yet another legend has died. In this case, with another good guy gone to join the several in recent years, as the sign at Kozy Korner has said — in what could be a Halloween tombstone — R.I.P. Donnie Boumeester. A legend is dead.

Despite being at home last weekend against the Bills, some sports fans describe as humdrum the 27-6 final as a more-embarrassing-than-most, Minnesota Vikings loss. And hey, for both teams which is unusual, weather was not a factor:
— Around halftime I wandered from the sports bars in the village to the Freedom Value Center nextdoor to get a couple of things. Said to the clerk, the score was 27-0. She didn’t appear too surprised, and didn’t even ask who at that time actually had the 27!
— Then someone outside of Dick’s Bar and Grill commented on my Packer sweatshirt. Hers was all green and she said I really needed to bring that color more strongly into my wardrobe. It seemed what was being suggested was that I remove any hint of what could be a Viking color (namely gold). Now that indeed is an idea worth its weight in gold, while keeping the greenback money on me for a beer. Interestingly, that same color sceme came up around the time of the season opener with ties worn by myself and others, when my friend Dorothy said purple with gold stripes was the way to go. She’s 95, so I guess I could blame it on her age
— Once inside Dick’s, I asked another friend, who I also have known for years and has been around long enough to see all the pro football comings and goings, what she thought of the latest loss: Didn’t watch and didn’t really care, its boring, she said.
— Lastly, when leaving Dick’s, there was yet another comment about my Green and Gold sweatshirt. A guy from The Cities actually liked it and although a little tipsy, wished me and my team well in the coming week when playing Atlanta. Sorry bud, (as in weiser?), the Pack doesn’t play them until December.

— But Bobblehead-type creates are more current at stores, even though they seem to be holding (swaddling?) a brown baby in their arms rather than a brown football. And at The Village Inn, very nearby, a jokester drew beards and the like on a couple of bathroom advertisement pitchmen. Just like was seen a couple of years ago at The Smilin’ Moose, defacing with spots the fresh faces of the two Irish Ginger sisters hawking a whiskey. All in good fun I say, but one question: What’s with the great big bushy, caterpillar-like eye brows on one of those guys. Go back to art school?

As PepperFest and its rapid-fire-pepper swallowing contests unfolded, there was even Hairball broached, courtesy of a young pet who was all decked out early for the holidays, and not just his birthday. Plus, two twins at 24, and me celebrating my 57th B-Day,  added to such a celebration by a young-looking, just-turned (and decidedly non-grey-beard) 30-year-old, as well as that nine-week-old puppy with (ugly before Xmas) sweater … hey shower us all with birthday drinks:

— Word traveled locally that the popular band rock Hairball was playing the Minnesota State Fair for the first time, as a headliner. That claim could have been made many times over at the former local rock club Dibbo’s, with the needed costume changes being spread out all over both ends of the stage.

— But back to my 57th birthday, which was brightened by meeting two women less than half my age at Dick’s, a pair of 24-year-old twins, Heather and Hailey. The main difference, one with purple hair and the other blonde. And then there was that 30-year-old celebrating his birthday, but only looking about the twins’ age, although his bushy red big beard was in part a giveaway. Had he heard the you-look-no-younger-than-legal-drinking-age before? “Yeah, yeah, yeah, ” he responded, adding that when he occasionally got in a bit of hot water in high school, some questioned whether he really should be junior-high-aged. But when he got as far as the principal’s office, he was met with “yeah we know you.”
— As the garage sale season comes to a close, I had a neighbor buy her new nine-week-old puppy a doggy sweater — but he would have to wait, as this was to be a Christmas gift. Two thoughts on that: (1), as Christians will tell you, Advent prior to the holiday season is a time of waiting, although this would be a long time, and (2) this gift might truly be appropriate later for an ugly sweater contest! That evening, one of my favorite bartenders and I joked that I could have sold my whole estate for a dollar, but only received 99 cents.
— This was a creative approach by a member of a bachlorette party. Rather than the over-the-top stuff as far as an attention getter, she chose something more subtle, a pretty purple flower placed in the drink of people like me. She likely was part of a limo ride that later took patrons into the Freedom Valu Center lot by going in the back way, after a jog down Sommers Street North, or the one that for some reason was seen heading down that very street through a residential area. Now that would be a house party!
— While we are on flowers, here is proof that fertilizer works, at least for a short time, but then craps out. Out for a late night walk to The Village Inn, I noticed that about 20 tiger lilies shown brightly under a street light. They were only about 20 yards down from a “no dog pooping” sign, which was only another 20 yards further away from another such sign. Apparently, there had been some poo that helped the lilies to grow all-of-a-sudden, even though it would require such fertilizer to run uphill! Alas it didn’t last, as the lilies died out — but were replaced in a growth spurt shortly thereafter with a string of yellow flowers, which also died out shortly.
— I didn’t think my Minion shorts were that skimpy. Even a bit more coverage than a basic swimsuit, so I thought. But the clerks at the Freedom Value Center in North Hudson, who can flow with almost anything, teased me with a bit of a bite that I had shown up to buy something wearing only my undies down there. I wonder, would it be viewed differently after midnight if I could blame it on one to many stops at The Village/Kozy Korner/Guv’s Place?
— Speaking of Freedom, it was the last stop, after being downtown, that I saw of a car with what looked like bug-eyed headlights. It turns out there instead were two big ones on each side, complete with what looked like squinty eye corners. This shortly after other eye-catching moments, of a server who sported Frampton Comes Alive-ish, long frizzy orange hair, a patron with a like colored big beard, and a bar manager with bright orange leather pants!
— A guy at one of the last local summer festivals was wearing a boot cast and bandage as he hobbled around. Was his problem something like gout, created in part by be eating too many cheese curds and cotton candy?

At the sports bar, how many shots does it take to make up for a lack of touchdowns, if your team is having too many three-and-outs, not three for ones? Read on:
— The Pack offense appeared to be back in week one of the preseason, when the home team racked up 51 points, but in the game just the other night, the scoring numbers were way down. To the point that one of the bartenders at Dick’s was pouring a number of shots ordered by one person for his crew that was greater in number than all the points scored by both teams, and the time of that order was well into the fourth quarter! This low-scoring affair really champions the Big D jersey worn by one man, of a slightly different era, that of defensive back Charles Woodson, (who fittingly has his own brand of wines, although limited edition).
— Along those lines, an email message from a deprived guy noted this: If you’re like me, for the last nine months, you have been “looking forward to your fantasy …” This would involve a squad, according to the message, of not the Swedish Bikini Team, but of some burly, sweaty guys striving to make it on your fantasy FOOTBALL draft.
— To recap another event where people tip a few, that being PepperFest, it was well past call afterward at a local bar, a trio of guys were trying to get that last drink, to no avail. The comeback: Oh Maggie, you have known me forever, cut me some slack. The comeback to the comeback: My name’s not Maggie. With that route gone, they suggested that they could sweeten the pot and sweet talk her at the same time, by singing some Ed Sheeren. When that didn’t go, the pot was sweetened again by saying they’d play that song for her on the jukebox. With that not working, they bought a frozen pizza to go, but when ordering a second, had to count all their pennies to pay for it.
— There was temporarily a new option on the taxi scene. A guy was asking for $5 per person to take you home. When asked about it and this potentially good deal, he added that this was only for PepperFest weekend, and possibly other major holidays. Bottom line? See you on New Years Eve. In the meantime, there are a couple of area people who have volunteered their services for giving a ride for cheap after last call. Talk about community service!
— On the service theme, the Ragnar several-state marathoning to benefit a cause came through the village just when PepperFest was at its peak, taking its runners right past a point only a block from the festival sponsoring park itself, with a directional sign spelling out the route for those legging it volunteers and positioned at one of the main intersections used to get to the fest itself after parking. For several years now, Ragnar has arranged to take people through this area, with each runner going a marathon-like distance, then passing the torch so to speak, to another runner. This running goes 24 hours and entails hundreds and hundreds of miles over several days. I don’t know which is more taxing, the wee-hours running or the rapid fire pepper eating in the contests nextdoor.
— On Friday night at PepperFest, the group of area youngsters who constitute the band Yam Haus had a following of loyal teeny boppers right up, front and center by the stage. That large group doubled when many somewhat older people filed over to the music area, but stayed to the back. There was a lot of speaking from the mic about the Hudson area by the lead singer, who especially referenced attending Houlton Elementary School.
— While we’re going Old School, there recently on late night TV was a roast of Bruce Willis, where he laughed hardily on the jokes made at his expense. That flies in the face of the experience of a friend out in California, who has met the actor while serving at Starbucks, and says he is really into himself and wears that on his sleeve, not someone who could laugh at himself. Will the real Bruce Willis please stand up?

The elections are here again, with many connections to political signs being at the forefront (more on that down further in this story), and all this came to mind again when my mom pointed out to me that back in the day, the First Lady posed nude.
Is that necessarily a problem? Frankly, I would be more concerned about the shirts and their political messages on immigration that Mrs. Donald has worn in recent times, not whether she takes off the shirt again. It should be noted, the bare-it-or-not rule is different for the now aging ex-governor, Jesse “The (Former) Body” Ventura.
With that said, I thought I would weigh in on the idea of posing nude, and what some local people I know who are models have to say about the topic.
And, I save the best over-the-top example of a shoot gone wrong for the end of this listing.
— XXXXX1, did a lengthy photo spread while nude, requiring more than one day of shooting, but emphasizes that it was all classy, not any type of “spreading.”
— XXXXX2, did a photo shoot in her late 30s semi-nude for a Calvin Klein ad — that ironically is her last name — but at the last minute scuttled it, fearing what her dad would say.
— XXXXX3, has on rare occasion done and will do nude photo shoots if required, but does not prefer to do so.
— XXXXX4, she and others have often posed in skimpy bikinis when needed, but as far as being nude in front of the camera, they draw a line.
— XXXXX5, she has posed for Playboy and fitness magazines, but downplays it, and just considers it a job, while rather emphasizing that primping and preening in front of the camera for up to 12 hours is hard work!
— XXXXX6, the photos were OK, but in what could be a local theme, were in the wrong end of a bathroom, (could have been a better choise of venue).
— XXXXX7, while a prominent model and actress, even in early days when she first got going, she will not consider posing nude — although the bare midriff in her YouTube series is impressive.
— XXXXX8, and the promised finale, there was a late October photo shoot in a cold river up north where the model, literally, got chased briefly by a big animal that resembled a beaver. And that was not a scripted part of the photo shoot. But still deliciously cheesy.
But again evoking racy images, including that of the First Lady, there is the election connection. There has long been a sign along the freeway in the town of Hudson, saying We Support Trump. I have to cite the Bob Segar song Love To Watch Her Strut, where it says we “do respect her butt,” in making this comparison: Remove the first letter and it could say We Support Rump. As he most certainly does. But now a more tame message has taken its place on this fanning sign, backing a local Republican candidate.
With Trump related material, there is always Reality TV. And two Hudsonites recently strutted their wares.
The longtime North Hudsonite has been on American Pickers. Known locally simply as Swanee, he has a three-car garage full of cars and their parts, almost bigger than his house, and he long has organized some of the best classic car shows in Minnesconsin, with the venues being in St. Paul and Duluth. Someone I know someone who said she saw the episode hit the air a couple of months ago. I found out from the horse’s mouth that this was on the docket in spring when visiting him to get an assessment of the resale value of a couple of mag tires, and he knew all the details — unfortunately down to a couple of custs in the sidewalls. All the better for hagling.
The other prominent Hudsonite was a chef at San Pedro, which serves a particular variety of food, Caribbean, as its claim to fame. He was invited to sweat it out in front of the cameras in a show where someone with an expert specialty hits the ground running and has to prepare a different style of meal — one with which he is quite unfamiliar.