The tale of the tape is told by (size of) jerseys in a sport where, you know, they wear them. And the local fans are still sporting these sweatshirts, with fall coming, despite a recent fight result of shirtless men — with one of them falling hard — that you might think would dissuade them.
But two former all-star running backs have rushed to a new sport, boxing, so do not put them in a box. Just in a ring. With some other YouTubers on a fight bill that did not include the Buffalo Bills. But an ex-Viking and ex-Steeler. And other teams in-between.
A for-a-change-partially-punchless Adrian Peterson should have bottled it, but waiting on the sidelines is not his way, when he flat-out knocked out his sparring partner months ago … and then the fight got postponed! Turns out Adrian himself in a main event got cold-cocked in the fifth round, as midnight neared in some pay-per-view areas, with an unusually brutal, straight right fist.
He sported no more Viking horns to protect him, like a pocket passer. But hey at 37 years, Adrian gave up a full seven years, so forget the import of the tale of the tape and give the man some credit, like when he ran roughshod over safeties, not fullbacks. Couldn’t ring the other guy’s bell. (But he did make it five rounds, although that’s not as much of a chore for someone who has played almost two decades when you include college). As the opponent’s name was Bell. Certainly not Belle. Leave that all to the linguists.
(Three other Google listings for the elder of the two rushers including Doug and spelled Pederson, who was an — ouch — Green Bay Packer and a QB not an RB. Adrian’s up for anything, so he might try R&B).
So next it may be soul. Or rock and roll. For full royalties. As for this time around, it was good that a charity collected plenty of money. But Adrian only walked away — after hitting the canvas hard — with $15,000. His money troubles have been well documented, and for the next party, I don’t think that with inflation it’ll rent a camel for his next party — slightly inside joke.
But No. 28 jerseys could still be seen all over the day following the night fight, and the next weekend where his alma mater faced those dreaded Packers. Almost as many as for Aaron Rodgers, No. 12, who was seen in both green and white as the primary color, home vs. away, but could not conjure up a victory over the Vikings. And a few off those always seen obscure jerseys relying on past greatness. (Rodgers did do much better in the following weekend, against those also dreaded Bears fans seen in the sports bars). But back to the opener, a new friend who is a server and wore Adrian apparel, was taken with great surprise that there even was a boxing match with him front and center, as if behind center. She did give me a high five when I presented the news about the TKO.

We as the Irish and our ilk are halfway home. So if you can’t wait another six months for a full-blow St. Patrick’s Day to come around, the option for you might be the exactly half-year-later-in-spacing, St. Patrick’s Day event at, fittingly, the Shamrock in New Richmond, all around a true Irish enclave.
On Saturday, it gets going at 6 p.m. That’s the 17th, if you’re counting. Its around the time that musical guest Trandy Blue comes on. More below on why if you’re Irish, or just Irish leaning, you really want to book here, or check her out.
And if what you want out of your drink(s) is a really cheap thrill, so to speak, this seems the way to go. The best opportunity you will have to make your call Fireball.

— Yes the world is — again — on fire with war. A crazily exacting heavy metal song just might have predicted what’s now on tap, about 40 years later. See Uncategorized. In a theme so timeless, across all countries, I did not change-up the headline. —

I have a few friends, some in low places, who just can’t seem to get the party started without first enjoying a shot of Fireball to warm their autumn hackles. So at the Shamrock you can get it during this special, once or twice a year event — for you who are going sans Irish with some of your selections of (cool?) whiskeys — for a mere $2.50. That’s a savings of over half under the price of most venues, which can be $6.50 or more. (So no firewall for Fireball). There also are other drink specials that fall along these lines. So Irish whiskey and brews are not the only way to go, although they obviously have those as well. And there is an attached drive-through liquor store to get those things and more, and keep the party going after you get home.
The regularly recurring prize giveaways on Saturday fall into more than the usual one or two categories. And yes you Irish, some of the bounty are drinks.
As for Trandy Blue, she sometimes goes as a redhead, and her style is very ditty-friendly, not just trendy. Two of her standards are Me and Bobby McGee, which she reportedly nailed upon first try back in the day, and Mr. Jones, in which she showcases her rich voice that has just a twist of tang. Blue paints with her guitar and voice plenty of Irish pubs around the region, and does frequent gigs in the New Richmond area.
Other regional venues have only been on and off with this annual September skirmish, and had cut back during the pandemic.
Then two blocks up the block, at Nootz and Oz, there is Friday night’s celebration of a grand reopening of both the bar, and a huge mural on the side wall, with both being even bigger than a tennis court. Just the words New Richmond will bring it up to near the size of a doubles version. Inside, there is a chance to win a killer and all-consuming BBQ grill that’s all in black.

There will no doubt be a pretty good crowd for a Sunday, as the NFL regular season starts with a double whammy that in these parts is embodied by one true game — Packers versus Vikings.
So this is not only an opener, but an event. Great fodder for a party. Or what might as well be a picnic, fall style. Over easy appetizers, and not just the house fare at the sports bar and by the sports bar.

— News break: A neighbor was out walking Rover or some other name of dog while sporting a Rodgers jersey. At about the time the first quarter was coming to fruition. For some reason I think of, “does the tail wag the dog.” Since Green Bay was soon down 17-0, in part because one of the new and anointed by Rodgers himself trio of new receivers, and one of them dropped a sure TD pass. So I must get back to that dog. Small. Portly. Maybe should workout more with more walks: So, that’s a message to those newbie wide-outs, deep and wide, who apparently could use to work out to a much greater degree. Don’t want to raise Rodgers royal wrath, especially if, you know, he’s in a bit of the wrong stoner mood … But there will always be another game day and one more Packer-Viking game, as they meet twice a year, so see below on where to go from here, especially later in this season. So for this day and the now triumphant Purple over Green, it would be a home opener for you to see, for one of the teams, any which way. —

Various places will offer drink specials, of course, some sporting the team colors of not only Green or then Purple, but maybe even Tequila colored Gold (done twice?) Or just have a Bud. Or Miller. Or jersey colored jello shots here and there. (Served by a shot girl?) Or beer that is cheaper by the bottle when served in “Buckets.” (See below).
But that is old NFL hat. Who is also picking up the ball and running with it — in the long tradition, now on and off, of the Mallalieu Inn in North Hudson — by offering in addition a potluck, bring a dish and get other ones to sample, but there may be perchance a guideline that you not haul in lefse or lutefisk, unless you have loads or loaves of it to share? More likely to resemble a chili feed, or hotdish fest in an unusually jovial nod to the Scandahoovians?
Why the venue is T-Buckets between Somerset and Stillwater, thus taking in both ends by being proximate to both states, like being on the 50-yard line rather than seated in back of an end zone. This annual event will be a lowkey — for them — outing that is mostly the realm of their regulars, but they won’t kick out a visitor — unless maybe from contested Chicago Bears country (just kidding). Its just friends sharing stuff like a beer and a brat-based bowl, which of course means they slap each other on the back, not the face. Big rivals come together over football, we could use more of that. And this has been one of few venues to actually take the next step and list the season’s first Game Day as a separate event from the regular football fare, and bill it as such.

— But concerning such a western Wisconsin grid of games, a driver friend of mine who needs to run this whole circuit daily has made it clear. There will be no leaving at the two-minute warning even if its a Green Bay blowout. As far as driving, he will pick it up again only after the final whistle blows, thank you. —

So since this is a marquee late-afternoon game, you will have those few extra minutes to hit such a legitimate roadhouse. But if you crave other bars crammed into a small, rather than open, series of spaces and form basically a huddle, you might try downtown Hudson and its several sports bars within just a few blocks. The rub here is that the farther inland you go from the St. Croix, and up Hwy. 35 which is also the main drag, the less Viking friendly it is, although it is (mostly) a friendly rivalry. Further north means less Norse, so more unlikely to see Packer and Viking schedules linked together on the wall right next to each other. Packers usually on the left? So for Skol, historically your best bet has been Dick’s or Ziggy’s, from back when it was Pudge’s. On the geographical flipside, where throngs clamor for the specials, is the Smilin’ Moose. People come all the way from Minnesota, largely, to this popular bar founded by Twin Citians, to watch a game that is played once a year in their own backyard. In the 2022 opener, it is indeed in the Twin Cities.
The sports bars in North Hudson are well-known to be Packer bars, basically only, although Purple People have not been eradicated. The Village Inn and Kozy Korner have been the big two. They’ve long been the best place to find a likeminded “Badger” football-based brew, down to the red and white stripes on the bottle, and yes it boasts an actual Badger in the form of its mascot, and that means the bottle’s art has — bear with me as I Badger you — a great big paw sporting the colors.
But if you come via Stillwater, also, and do not follow the tried and true freeway that leads you almost to the door of T-Buckets, but jog a few blocks north off the exit ramp, there is the Next Stop tavern that is about as bi-colored as you will find on this grid concerning gridiron hues. The venue, for the record in Houlton, is no stranger to specials during square-offs, their website shows a server delivering a cheesy sandwich loaded with hot peppers, and the other half of the plate is fried cheese curds, and topically, that server was wearing a Packer jersey. It was either No. 5 or 6, couldn’t tell exactly.
But concerning such as grid, a driver friend of mine who needs to run this whole circuit daily has made it clear. There will be no leaving at the two-minute warning even if its a Green Bay blowout. As far as driving, he will pick it up again only after the final whistle blows, thank you.

She was considered a rock whose not to roll, putting her own (compared to counterculture?) Queen-ship to the standard.
Despite more sophisticated media systems, news can come out late, in what is a publisher’s worst nightmare.
The Royal Family announced that their Queen was ill only a couple of days before announcing her death. Did she have her handlers as well?
She was soon revered as a Mom, GM and GGM. So then, as all men, give them a brief, and I’m sure it will not actually be, break from the public eye.
So God Save The Queen (guess not) … And God Save us all! That in fact, despite the old news borne by the Sex Pistols, and superlative singer in Bruce Dickinson, also a Brit, about the monarchy not being what it used to be, somewhat oddly, in their youth.
Finally now, 2022, Charles is the new King. But maybe since I’m not a Brit in anyway in any way, and not to show disrespect at this moment, I have thought it may be time to take them off what has to be a massive payroll and expense account — can you defrock actual royalty?
Is it perchance a Brave New World time to make a clean break?
Yes, we have seen many examples of the royal family’s public service, but can’t it be done more cheaply?
Cheap? That wouldn’t be Mum’s status; always serene, filled with grace and elegance.
And even her own style. It never seemed as dated as it should have logically been.
And what of all those British rockers? Who gets condolences out there first, even if needing to take a break from touring and all the various productivity killers that go along with it.
So when do you use Caps? As in Her Majesty, or go the route of The Honourable …
Such a clamoring has not seen since:
Kennedy? Lennon? Cobain? Prince?
Elvis? We still aren’t all sure.
And can’t forget Lady Di.
So to all of you, and Jeannie too, if you wanted to be queen, maybe now is your best shot, albeit in the form of a 73-year-old balding man.
And who rose first to give the final and boldly gone farewell? NASA.
So now, on another front, we’ll discuss the state of actively rising, which of course will inevitably mean falling.

So is “Rising” to the occasion, the operative word, for today?
Oh, and another, and it fits with the theme is simply, “actively.” Or not that way.
The latter can also be linked in a sentence to “hiring.” And for you English majors, the word choice is between adverb and verb. If you are a minor in it, just pick one, or substitute “very” to get an adjective in there.
Just wordplay? Could be. But these thoughts are gleaned from the signs of area businesses.
There is the proviso that when entering a given establishment, you should not be “actively” carrying a firearm. Apparently, if you are doing it inactively — holstered or with the safety on? — its OK. That’s a loaded statement, as it could involve a loaded pistol.
And another place of business, says it’s OK to enter with a — holstered — pistol, just be extremely judicious in its actual use. And especially so in any such marksmanship, so make sure you are shooting straight. Or you won’t be in an shape to return and use your rewards card. Or get out of jail free card. Sorry To Some In The Country Crowd.
Up the tempo, guns or not, if some want to hire you. And concerning use of both of those two buzz words, the bread and more company named Rise, and not just the dough, presents and maybe presides over, and resides in, all variety of titles that take the same name and type, as in songs, bands and albums and/or cassettes and/or CDs. So Rise Again, as many times yeast is a good thing. Or depending on your dietary status and band preference, Rise Against. But what would inactive rising, and hiring, have earlier been — one might think hiking the minimum wage? Would have needed more of this, to be the one who bought this.
And some places, if say an employee or two got dinged, the firm would then need to be “actively” hiring? Start today?
It seems that because of volume, wholesale hiring might be needed by the company that had those killer Labor Day mattress sales, as stated below, called Nectars. More sweet then the tears you’ll cry when being newly away from home as a student, termed bittersweet.
As long as we are on the topic of local businesses and topical death: His classic guitar is long(er) gone — as in sold — from the venue’s front window, and so Elvis has left the building reads the sign. And with it the Father, Son and Holy Ghost … as they have caught the last train for the coast. And with it is the smokeshop that had been housed and sold in back. Could this be seen as weening out the (of sorts) weed??

You all know I geek out about Iron Maiden … but the time has (not come) to close our eyes …
The Legacy Of The Beast World Tour has begun … and the Beast Cowers in Shame and Envy. And when it it hits the stage in The States mid-month, the truth and the shit truly hits the fan.
The new Maiden album is rewriting (the history of) music. So I do proclaim the singularly named Maiden as the most important band in human history. Many Others have their right place, but few so glaringly without a weakness. So move over Beatles and Mozart, and Beethoven and Brahms, Stones and Zep, even Sabbath and Priest, and take your place slightly aside — note the placement proclaimed — behind God’s True Maiden.
How often, yes at times, does the set list, and song placement on that list, that a heavy metal band Chooses from its vault of all almost 200 that keep on topping themselves, (note we need to give an “average” set list because there are so many things to say), determine the place in which we find our worldwide culture (more on that later). “What we (were) are and what we have become …”

— By their fruits you will know them. Or their ice cream and if you hurry from the summer job that brought you a bit of extra cha-ching, spend it at Culver’s with that new cutie from homeroom. See Pick’s of the Week. —

You could write a book on the set-list picks, and what they all mean to the state our seven-continent and more culture, but lets just take a gander at these that include the golden goose. They show among many themes the true heart of the band. Revelations. The Sign of the Cross (not what it would seem). Hallowed Be Thy Name. The Clansman (about the oppression of the Scots and broadly the recurring chant of “Freedom,” as Iron Maiden does irony, you dummy). Both are seen in For The Greater Good Of God and Where Eagles Dare (about continuing war, and specifically WWII, a fave theme for all its even-more-revealed cruelty). Then of course Two Minutes to Midnight, about the metamorphic atomic clock. “We oil the jaws of the war machine and feed it with our babies.” Close even in Japan with Aces High. Oddly missing is Rime of the Ancient Mariner, as apparently there are things these days with more immediate import then lengthy philosophy. (And this 13-minute song would be tough to make room for, given their large arsenal). Included in its stage set is an implication that a House of Asia (actually three houses) will be the newer center of the world.
But and so, like to understand all of history, we first have to back up. Although my writings are not a doomsday machine, as I’ll leave that to Ozzy, The Writing on the Wall from the Book of Daniel is the ultimate cautionary tale about the very end, and then rebirth, of humankind — somehow cramming in a new religious, political and cultural reference every few seconds — with get this, Adam feeding an an apple to Eve, not vise versa. Note that grinding of the motorcycle wheels of a trio of saviors, yielding to one of the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse, guess which one of the three or four, then fades and gives way to Revelations and Fear of the Dark. But is it really an end, or indeed Mr. Crowley … “It is time to quell the wind and rain … the one who will be King, the watcher in the ring.”

— All eras have their strengths and maybe even more surmounting challenges, but today’s seem more importantly final and oddly personal with the onset of social media and all the twists and folds of modern technology. How often, yes at times, does the concert set list, and song placement on that list, that a heavy metal band Chooses from its vault of almost 200 that keep on topping themselves … determine the place in which we find our worldwide culture. “What we (were) are and what we have become …” —

Maybe when Bruce introduces himself and the band, and changes it up depending on the concert site and how far they are into the dozens of cities, he says it best for both today and the rest of human history. (Thus follows the Aces that were High as a Pilot of the Storm of WWII … All eras have their strengths and maybe even more surmounting challenges, but today’s seems more final with the state of nuclear war and drones and “better kinds of death,” and immediate and oddly personal with the onset of social media).
Here we go, per frontman Bruce with well chosen words from some of their classic songs, (“The devil knows the time is short?), slightly paraphrased as on this Labor Day I am not laboring enough to run through the concert footage again:
It has been what, one or two or three years (before we have been before you) … These years have been f—— crazy. But tonight all of that stops, (said with theatrical pause). We have people from all over the world here tonight. We don’t care what country you are from. Or what color you are. Or what God you bow down to. Or any God … We are the brothers and sisters of Iron Maiden.

Put this way in an actual sign, there since midsummer, and could this be a temp’s nightmare/dream job? “You don’t have to be crazy to work here. We’ll train you!” A bit of corporate culture? I’m sure HR went over the joke in the sign-on paperwork, so thanks for that good humor you provide, (maybe better than I?) But really, would you not want to work in a place (spellcheck said palace) like this? In much smaller letters, fittingly down below, it puts out the pitch, to rent this sign … If there were too few, or too many, takers for the above line?
Or such workers, at a home furnishings store, could take the day off and head up north for one of the last times. “Or lets just stay home,” is a sign they’d been trying to move off the front window shelf. (It was there then gone, then there again). Or maybe Jump In The Lake, and The Lake Is My Happy Place. In that case, two out of three ain’t bad.
Then The Next Place Over, try our acquatic (I think you could guess that from what comes) and sooth-away pain and indoor pool for therapy. The sign is below an accountant’s office, not so fitting? Herbal supplement/food freaks trying to get the right mix aren’t the only ones to be bean-counters.
As this is what I assume an accountant does, if the tip jar goes awry at the restaurant: Cook the books. (Just kidding).
Down the way in the same block, little scrim signs for you and me warn both a pesticide-application-zone-stay-out-because-your-very-life-depends-on-it and do-not-dig-here-because-of-cable-concerns-that-include-but-are-not-limited-to-your-life-depends-on-HBO. Not to mention the one that says you can get the utmost-minus-all-additives-(non-healthy?)-corn-cobs. Are you all ears?
So hey, as the offer from corporate says, go float on a glazer, (down the Apple River on a tube that is not like the flask of such flavored booze you hawk?)
So is the essence of the inner tube dragging along as we near the end of summer, although there is still plenty of summer left. So whatever floats your boat. Or glacier?
Yes, despite a continental divide, this is my hometown and slightly beyond it Kwik Trip, with their all sorts of such merchandize, with offers like this, but time will at some point march on, way beyond March, as we try to avoid the (late-night) donut hole that comes with shorter nights. And the bigger the glazer donut, the bigger the hole.
And this next one should never be put Down In A Hole. So to pump and honor the Ukrainian flag, it turns out we have to incorporate Hinduism. A family in my family for awhile flown their Ukrainian version — although the Stars and Stipes was never front and center in their yard — and I’d be curious which one in the family came up with the idea. I was told that across the street there was another such marker, from being across the world just as far. A Hindu family with a Hindu flying version.
When I visited I never saw either of those, much less Old Glory. Did something happen, with the nuances of the politics of the day or how it was viewed or other such thing? Or maybe such things just limited their shelf life. But there should never be such a thing.

If you thought they couldn’t roll it out further, with a barrel of fun, and at The GasLite couldn’t follow-up on an adept August?
Just behold only three days into the next month in Ellsworth. On Saturday, Sept. 3.
It’s the Annual Run Whatcha Brung. Enuf said. What kind of killer ride you gonna contribute to the rally? There have been literally dozens of such things on the not-so-mean street lately. (More on that, and how far the trend goes, in a later post. But maybe you will see some of these, with many numbers of wheels and wheelies, while at The GasLite?)
Then after just five more days — Thursday, Sept. 8 and Friday, Sept. 9 (INDOOR STAGE). Its KONG — Monsters of Rock (emphasis was not added by me). The big-time, big-top, over-the-top music theme has been played out many times, but not like this.
Then the day of overlap. Friday, Sept. 9 and Saturday, Sept. 10, its back to 1990, the 32nd annual SCVR CHILLY FEED (again their caps without gaps, and get that ride out again). Advanced Tickets ON SALE.
Then another, a week later, only midway into the month, this time a different kind of ride. Saturday, Sept. 17 — TRUCK PULL.
More info to come, they say. Of course.

— This just in, as I fall into place. The local legend Jorgensons have again reinvented themselves, in a number of ways that almost rivals Madonna, and this remake of a tried and true set of standards now features this lineup change: Tim J of course, shown in promo photos way off to the left, and also a pair of women and two men. Diversity speaks and/or sings, as that’s where the women usually come in. The upshot is that they play Ziggy’s in downtown Hudson on Saturday night, for the first time of the new version of Jorgensons there or almost anywhere in the region. —

And with all that said, got to invoke the Sturgeon Nationals on the 17th on Yellow Lake, where the top fish could top off at upwards of 170 pounds. And the world record is even greater by a few pounds, and I believe that may have come from The Other End Of The State, where I a couple of times petted sturgeons and their leathery-sandpapery skins that had beached themselves on the Wolf River so they could mate. Laid out so they could get laid, due to this narrow and winding stream. Want more of this and enter the fishing contest, making it more contested from the usual crew? Bobcats in New Richmond can hook you up.
But we also must look forward to Oktoberfest (spelled German way), from this — ouch! — 100 percent German. A newer face of a bartender was wearing her shirt last night sporting a Muchen fest — and that’s the Deutsch, with at the top of the U that funky thingee, as if buttoned-up Germans can do very funky, as she indeed can with the regular fist-clasp — and for sure not a munchkin. (I joked with her that since my germanely German family has traced its history back to when each and every one came over in the boat circa 1860, there may have been that aberational sort from Tanzania centuries prior. And don’t those centuries cry!)
And I, like much of my music, must reference the end of a previous entry below, that being MLK, as far as the Deutsch component. You can look it up.

But first, this is not exactly a shoutout to the Target marketing department. I debated for a full year before pointing it out, but here we go! In a back-to-school-ad, they led with a frying pan for sale and a pitch for students making their own stir fry! I think (actual) fries would be more likely. And these days anything pink, for the girls and young women, mostly the former. And not the red meat, either.
After all, they are not mom. And we are not mum on that. Like the often-written-about Queen Mum? Here-to-fore, there were garden mums on sale at Walmart, some of the few (actual) plants that are still taking up the rear, at best, but indeed this one variety and lots of them, were right by the front doors. (Not that the queen gardens much, rather has been seen throwing roses at Saskatchawanians, hadda get in that word from an actual headline, and not mine, even though not did not get by spellcheck). Closer in to the actual box of concrete it was more like seed and fertilizer. Unlike their Hudson counterpart, and even though not a Super Walmart, as the New Richmond version in spring didn’t have the rows and rows and more rows of plants and other flora taking up parking spaces. Not that it’s a bad thing. And now it is fall, soon, and those mums at the everyday low price, (and that’s not a sale price mind you, as some people mix it up), were mentioned in the same breath as apples and pumpkins. Cool! Literally! But soon back then, come April, they were far more flowers to be found in a newer and bigger enclosed with plastic tarp area. Like your front porch times a few hundred. Minus that many square feet of plastic. Like better the many big boxes of flowers in downtown NR.
So kudos for that, the fall fixtures part. Spreading beauty. But maybe not for this: In what I’m assuming is a back-alley-type back break area at the big store, there were all kinds of half-empty bottles of energy drinks and soda, mostly the former, but at least they had the caps on. Coming back for the rest on the next break, two hours away (we assume)? And like a local cabbie said, enabling him to find a place to pull over and drop off a fare: At least they got rid of all those unsold (obviously) and cut-rate lawnmowers. Now parked behind all the snowblowers?

A thought for the day, now with a death, a dream. We next year are coming up to the 60th anniversary of that end-of-August famous Martin Luther King speech, I Have A Dream. Has that much time passed, or maybe not at all considering the slow pace of such progress. Two other takeaways: Has anyone else noticed that there are so many other like-minded or at least thus-resembling the sets of triplicate (again referenced) letters that are MLK. I think MKE for some reason that I recall being about Milwaukee. To that end, isn’t it just a bit, if not ironic at least unusual, the fact that he took his name from a profoundly white German man.

This is yet another chapter, following the prior one, in the dog ate the paper(work), to invoke not only Rover but Roman numerals and opera — aren’t they basically the same? — in the form of calling it Act XXIV-HQ. I will explain below. If only the pooch had the pipes to sing!

(And you can catch the “opening act” with a description, and a departure from the usual course of a hot summer afternoon, concerning an event celebrating its 80th anniversary on the links, by seeing Notes From The Beat).

The Associated Press with which I have long been associated paid me promptly for election coverage, and even threw in $10 more bucks, based on a limited but noteworthy (in Joe’s mind) set of circumstances. The payment was made to me via a new and superior and almost godlike new pass-through and third-party entity, via yes, my Invoice No. XXIV-HQ. Officially, they term themselves as a supplier portal. I believe they call their company Tipalti. That spelling is much like the new fish product that has taken over such frying events — see back-to-back venues in downtown New Richmond, and check out Mallards and Wild Badger — that have overrun our great land, and not only on Friday, but that is usually the key direct deposits day. Why that is crucial in a moment. Not that there’s anything fishy about this new essentially accountancy firm, as I got paid in only ten days, where in my industry with certain vendors it can take months. God bless them and America, as that was the country whose elections I was covering for the parent company.
But where did that extra $10 come from, I think I know? Is there a sweet deal at work here, or with tartar sauce, in the form of a collaboration with a place like Denny’s to make up the difference, getting a raise without even needing an expenses account? Corporate companies offer such gift cards as a perk, and get the volume discount that comes with having a worker in every county across 50 states, minus the island territories where they have other forms of favorite fish at local food markets. But I’m right here in Wisconsin, also the land of walleye and other catches, so its Tilapia on me! They I dare say may have embarked on a journey into Tilapia, and a side of fries, as I think our Badger State has potatoes as the state veggie, so another collaboration, the total of which I had believed runs about $9.99. But tax and tip could screw with that extra cent. And Perkins and other eateries pose a possible avenue, but they tend to run about a dozen bucks. So hey Denny’s, here I come, with along (maybe) the stringers from Polk and Pierce counties to the immediate north and south (since no milage paid) who like their string potatoes too!
Doggone good benefit to have. Granted its not a 401(K) …
But what about the aforementioned, and right now again, poodle?
He had reproduced (euphemism for regurgitated and see the post below for more bad puns on that) that last and final page, along with my financial statement to facilitate doing my direct deposit.
Maybe should have called him Barfy. Or barfly?
That’s where and how I rediscovered my listless list.
The addendum to that last page was a menu that had the fish fave for only $8.99, so all bases covered? But this indeed needs to be just the appetizer.

Hate to say it, but St. Croix County — and sorry as we’re talking mostly about hoidy toidy Hudson here — has developed, or maintains, a corporate-like culture of control, that permeates various departments, and it really shown in the late night when I cover elections as a reporting stringer. In one fast but I am afraid not last gasp, two different departments at play.
The unfortunate uptake: We are a bunch of Barney Fife’s who think they are Andy Griffith. Just not quite, in general, as gentle or gentile.
So screw the first amendment. It is considered only a “courtesy.” More on that below.

— But first, Scotty doesn’t know, but now you do and so does your/their favorite uncle. Movie and music themes abound here.
Leading off at the GasLite in Ellsworth on Saturday is Scotty’s Run, one of those mega-motorcycle rallies that attract thousands to roam the highways and byways of western and even west-central Wisconsin, all on the same trip. And all those miles go to a good cause. Then when back, the music takes center stage …
This via rockers Uncle Chunk, who have been cranking it out since the previous Millennium, and these guys have the rough-edged look that goes with ramming out riffs since the years of grunge and before. And they mix in dance tunes also. Godfathers of classic rock? So yes Jimi, these men are experienced. So, so many pieces of eight when they come on at 8 p.m. —

Everyone was cordial at first when I was calling in recent election results to Associated Press, but then the ball dropped in my gig at the county government center. The latest in what has been an escalating trend.
The last voting results came in late, in a couple of big batches, so there was a lot to transcribe on much more than one page, then quickly call it in on my lifeline that is a call-center 800 number.
But so, its time to go. Now, a sheriff’s deputy and county clerk said.
Can you give me five more minutes? We’ve been here so long anyway — I was a Joe come lately, as the clerk and crew had been on duty since 7 a.m. — and I do know we’d all like to go home. But my bosses require certain things before I can go.
No on that request, the deputy said. I am immediately closing up shop.
My bosses require, as one of their stipulations, that a copy on the results be faxed to them before the whole place is under lock and key and we’ve all left. Again, the annual conflict.
I’ll do it, she said, if you pay the faxing cost. I’m assuming it would have to come out of my pocket, and I don’t have much of an expense account, if any. And I’d dropped my last buck for a two-buck soda when hitting the vending machine, early when nothing much was happening. And you can just get all the results off the internet site anyway, she said. (My bosses have always held the position that you must report in person, and then report results by phone. What if that one web site goes down?)
But out the door now, or apparently it was implied, I was going to be arrested for what, civil disobedience?
It is only a courtesy that we provide this room, open for your use, I was told.
It was implied that this courtesy could be withdrawn at will, at any time.
So I grabbed my writing stuff on the fly and was out the door, which was quickly locked behind me. They all left behind me and lights out. I had to make the call from my car — actually that of my driver and he had to walk me through the process of actually finding the county web site.
And then explaining to my bosses what had happened yet again.

— Another look at a dark scene.
Lets look at actress Anne Hecht. And give her some slack, (I can’t bring myself to use the word cut), because she was doing the best she could with a very difficult life, and then there came for her a one instance that may come to define her life — and death. None of us should be a slave to one bad decision. At first blush, the press was clamoring around her burn-unit bed and passing judgment on the admittedly awful circumstances brought by her erratic driving, as their are many victims if you look closely, but now that the remembrances from all around are filtering in and given a new course of marketable story material to grind out (word chosen if you are familiar with grindcore metal music). Sometimes I am not proud to be part of that profession.
In our sex-driven culture, my first exposure to Hecht’s work — maybe not her best but very tasteful — was an iconic and artsy love scene between her and Joan Chen (yes a woman) that was staple Cimemax material. It should be noted that Chen went on to a much more highbrow career and you don’t hear much about her role in that scene. I have to say Christopher Walken is the perfect choice to play an amoral-sliding-into-evil role.
I could pontificate so much on these themes, such as the need for our adults to be much more responsible for the treatment of our youth and form them much better, but that would only give these more credence as I’d be called a bleeding heart — is that so bad — I’m afraid. But a takeaway: Despite the fact that she was once named one of the 50 most beautiful women, you could see the wear on her face. So who among us is responsible, to a greater or lesser degree, for those deeply-carved lines on the sides of her face? Think about this key line from the Rolling Stones, quoting Satan’s role in the transformation of the world, and often repeated in song: “I shouted out who killed the Kennedys, when after all it was you and me.” —

I see the following in-office local observation as a separate but related facet, as it too reflects the lets-climb-the-ladder mentality — that starts when putting on your makeup in the morning. Yes, style choices. A majority of women tend to dress too-hot-for-the-office. Like they would if going clubbing. Granted, there is a bit of flashy flair involved, so kudos, but it does not stop there. A friend of mine showed up for such office work one day with that kind of attire, and she got written up. But that was across the river.
I see our beloved county as being a starter place for most government officials.
And then a place to get out of and head for the warmer climes of The Twin Cities.
And if you can’t make that graduation …
(I did like this style vehicle: One woman left her Covid mask dangle from her ear (singular) when talking to co-workers. Choice of which ear?)

On a lighter note. Enough seriousness. Let’s get silly. With Barfy the poodle.
I may have been premature with my statement that I was forced out, by the deputy of the day, of the One Medium Size Room reserved for us media types racing to scrawl out our notes on paper — all two of us. And that such action again almost kept me from fulfilling my appointed rounds (OK just one) for AP on this yet, another election.
It was actually that damn poodle.
And his insatiable appetite for paper, matched openly by a termite’s lust for the wood it came from.
Yes, as far as my term paper going into the night to write about those looking for re-election to their next term.
Yes the dog ate it.
And there were so many pages, with so many races. That the poodle got very sick because the printer’s ink used on behalf of AP, which had the ironic goal of being wholesomely organic, was actually quite toxic. So I was almost late to show up at my post, a chair and small table, cuz I had to rush the dog to the vet. No antibiotics, supply shortages. Like mortgages, takes much more time. So much more because all such poodles across our great land got together and tried to plot a class action suit. But they spent all the time yipping at each other, and used up all 57 minutes of their free consultation for naught.
So on the other end — no multi-page paper list of candidates to refer to, and write numbers of top of numbers, with seconds ticking before they closed up the government center in Hudson. But who showed up to save the day, where so many of their ancestors had gone before, to cross many miles and find their way home, or to where they are needed.
My poodle, having barfed up the last and final candidate page where the ending vote tallies could now be registered.
So let it be written … And will be in future posts.