There is a recent act before Congress, taking some time away from managing masks and other mayhem, that because of the pandemic, citizens are legally bound to wildly partake, “starting but not limited to tickets and trinkets,” in all holidays that are taking place in the year 2022 for a full half-year, not just a day.
Whereas such revelry will serve a mental health purpose as it will keep people in good spirits in a time of social distancing and shutdowns. And whereas it will be an economic stimulus, as such spending has been shown to keep the lights on in places that serve said purpose. And whereas, since the makers of both wine and champagne have seen their sales go down by almost half because of climate change, and of both Russian and Ukrainian vodka have experienced a similar lack of sales, and they need like stimulus …
OK, that was an April Fool’s joke. But it does give a reason to dive into some of the fun things … stuff you can’t make up … that have been happening thus-far in said year. And tell the truth about them (although maybe embellished)!
Last night at Dick’s Bar, the burly bartended was still in a St. Patrick’s Day shirt, something about Shamrocks now continuing their growth without a spring lag because of global warming, and he acknowledged that his place is one of two locally that at times have featured a half-St. Paddy’s Day celebration, and were part of such a memorandum to Congress. And yes, he is both Irish and Polish, so whiskey is a go but not the latter’s vodka.
The frozen temps and wind chills finally got to us and continued forth in January and moving forward, like Frozen Tundra before you are ready for it to max out, because of the new cold war, since there was a Friday night where those out and about was one-third of the norm. Still, because of the Twin Cities factor, overall sales experienced a near-record volume per capita, or per Citian? The usual stalwarts were not to be seen, although their added presence might have put the record in jeopardy because of the Jag factor, but now come spring there will be more chances … More on that later.

— Another St. Patrick’s Day aside, resurrected like the coming Easter, is the 2022 lucky clover card of well, clovers, that features what I thought were the 31 days of March to patronize — read spend money like the Irish do when they can — and reap in prizes from the downtown mostly but spreading out to all of Hudson businesses. But wait, there are 39 of the Shamrocks. So the gist, I was told by a wee Irishman, is that people have added days to punch all on the card, amounting to the semi-St. Pat’s Day rolling around again, six months from now.–

Most years it has been around the 22nd when the One Block Fun Run was held, and there have been times when the glasses of water (unlike the beer that comes in later) that had to be quaffed halfway during the jaunt froze over, like the nearby St. Croix but with even thicker ice since these drinks were poured before last call the previous night. Are such plastic glasses subject to more than low temps, thus the chilling effect of wind, if filled to the rim? And at 10 a.m. on the day in question it was a mere 10 degree level and winds were well past the 10 mph threshold. Sales records still fell by ten-fold come the inside-after-party.
So for chilling out: Village Liquors had a run on NA wine immediately prior to the new year, and all that was left on the shelf was the price of a centuries-old Gallo. OK, now that’s a real mixed metaphor, but loyal readers of a like mind with HudsonWiNightlife (ouch) will get the joke.
My friend Maya, a rare sustained stalwart among local regulars, was out on New Year’s Eve, but called it quits well before the New Year was rung in, setting off a dis-similar alarm, and also a summons before Congress. Even her darkly exotic good looks could not make the scene worthwhile for her, at least on that night. And in future nights as The (young punk) Boys Were Back In Town. Now less and less.
There are still holiday light shows at residences to be seen, with many different but small pieces that come together as one, but the first and most noticeable take-down was around the garage door and house eaves by a local pastor at his parsonage. Apparently their theology does not make room for the 12 days of Christmas. But its that and sevenfold more for those avengers with cool displays that kept it up right until the ebb of winter. One such collection was of 12 small things, in a small front yard, that were spoken of (small whispers) but seldom seen, as you cross from Hudson into North Hudson.

— And there is a new Q to answer, thank you Yelp, and the trivia can be found under Where Did You See It. Quaaludes not incorporated, though, despite the post that comes next —

A local drug store has been thorough all along in conveying its mask message, and riding on its coattails vaccine status, for both sick and well people who are dashing through its door. This post gets into, in a meandering way, the nitty gritty of what they hope you read eye-high as you enter.
As a tangent, this reminds one of that Mr. Jimmy who shared a cherry soda — forget social distancing or too many napkins or tissues — with singer Mick Jagger, for as a sign says, just a quarter or so, in a nearby land that’s actually just across the river, back in beginnings of the Stones, to inspire the song You Can’t Always Get What You Want. So for music as I muse, you just might end up here, as always seems to be the case.
But that local signage on a double door uses several sentences — and is that about how much Hemingway is said to have written in a day? — to describe exactly what they offer, and spell out what they don’t as far as the forms of testing, immediate need or longer term, and to be used there or at home through kits (a new form of takeout?) plus vaccinations of varying types. A health care provider appointment is recommended, so they’ll have you call your cable company … sorry, Freudian slip. They’ve also been one of only a few most consistently staunch and as unflinching as an eye exam in their stated policy, when it came to mask requirements, including being mandatory when few others were. On the front lines, like in a mosh pit, they could see the damage of bad decision-making. Than add the flu shot, also offered even if its optional, to the mix that is bantied about like a billboard.
Still, though getting more and more busy because of the need, my guy behind the counter is Always Quick With A Joke And Light Up Your Smoke (not really), even these days. I tried one of those new gonzo meds (vaccine?) and asked if a side effect was my growing a green tail. Not that he knows of, he said, but if you do he’s got a hack saw ready and waiting back at the farm. Chuckle. The very next day I persevered, and said I had two more, but as said by another sign, this time his diploma, that was outside his “scope.” Gut-busting laugh.
And how else do you deal with these signage times? I noticed that the label on my “just the good stuff” had the same date it was filled as the date to throw-away-by-if-not-used. That is a window to get it done of 24 hours? I quipped, sounds like a party! Belly-buster, since you know if you read the fine print, these types of things can promote either weight gain or loss.
But these days, there also are myriad ways to post just protect yourselves and others. Liked this one, “mask optional, mask friendly.” That’s warm and fuzzy, just like my new growth. Also mask friendly is a karaoke place called Bleachers in Maplewood — I think that’s where the town boundary lies. They were among the first to offer any singer, a veteran or next to grab the mic, some disinfecting equipment and a bit of kind advice that you don’t necessarily have to follow, even if that’s just a wet wipe, promoted through their sliding neon sign in back of the bar. But please don’t take that as a license to slobber, though I have found that it can create a signature vocal effect.
And local convenience stores have also led the way, being about the first, and days early, to require employees to be masked regardless of things like vaccination status. And at Wisconsin’s own, the rules were always posted and updated in detail — but when things died down with restrictions but protests still ramped up — there suddenly ended up being nary a word displayed on the glass. And there words aplenty to state what’s not a tough theme to grasp. There’s probably a more than a triple R and S here, in ways that ask you to mask-up: Strongly suggested, surreptitiously. Then staunchly and stringently standard. Or recommended, required, remedial … And as far as that new booster vaccine to make it a threesome, what if two outta three ain’t bad.

Green and orange keep on coming up, with twists and turns on the outcomes of the betrothen. In seas of color in the stands by the tens of thousands, and on the bench by only tens of hundreds, when including trainers and assistants, there were green and off-gold in college football, bowl games, all things Baylor (my man’s fave), in NFL playoffs, in college basketball, and of course in the Deer District. As a result, Lambeau in hunting season is not the only one ablaze with orange.
Like that, last seen in shades of green on the screen only wee seconds apart, it was competition vs. commercial: Giannis and Guinness.
And the Arkansas Razorbacks do live on despite recent meat-filled holidays, displayed in their trademark red flesh in both roundball and pigskin tones to round it out, but not by being broadcast live on our old TV — even if its progressed beyond black and white — and what it can pull in without having all channels, versus a replay. So we did see red, just in another way.
So as a viewer, I walk the line. Or run it. Up the gut. Usually without success? But that keeps the winning coach registering in the black — gray if Zimmer — in his bank account. He was Mr. Smart. And not Maxwell. Dumb coaches don’t win national championships.
A commentator said so.
Or win Olympic Gold. It was added that as far as individual luge, a person’s weight might be viewed as a good thing to get the sled rolling faster, but watch out for those bigger hips! Just might mean a Silver.
Covid came at the worst possible time for a competitor who was just ready to hit the slopes, and with her plentiful tattoos, one just has to wonder if the disinfectant was not championed at the right time. Or placed, or not, over the tiny virus-vaccine needle point. Would it be a banned substance?
That Russian athlete who kinda, sorta, had an illegal substance in her system, to help with … what … something as non-controversial as the common cold? Like the past intake of Mary Jane, which to repeat, is only performance enhancing if you play the bass??
Shawn White of USA at 35 was trying to medal in his last Winter Olympics, but would he succeed? Skateboarder Shawn spoiler alert, and my surmised smoking stoner advisory. But wait, that all occurred already. But when you can be on the high end of things, maybe, time is fluid? Much more on that in a future post.
The Wisconsin version of the biathlon could include pool and darts … ???
Back in the USA, there are mascots so ugly they’re cute, although they swim like the Florida Gators — with such a flag waving at New Richmond main-drag residence — many of those aforementioned colors past you? Us? Badgers and Gophers? Maybe that Georgia Bulldog? That pot-bellied pig, not so much, but being so sheerly big, as Texas?
But those Jayhawks, too, as in that mascot painted-on at center-court until near the end of their run. But why those tennis shoes. To hide those gnarly feet?
And that pot-bellied pig pet just referenced, owned by someone back in the day in ‘Ol Arkansas who is now reinventing his roots, could be viewed as Public Enemy No. One — even though it was not out in public — since you weren’t supposed to have one in that apartment, or with that zoning. And not end zone … Guess they were just channeling, in reverse, Iowa State colors and mascots, watched on that very day. With that blight of bad karma, Iowa State almost did them in on the gridiron. Irons Up!
So, you’re in whole hog or not at all.
But the saying of that long-sought-after playoff day, which was a doubleheader game, was Who Dey, and we are not talking The Who or Guess Who, but they were making devil horns.
The sign later shown forth in the stands, and was prophetic: The Year of the Dawg. How long’s it been? Forty, again like the U2 song, or is it 41 or 42? Couldn’t remember for sure.
The TV-visited golf score, in noticeably warmer climes for their course, chimed in at a stated -15, as in 15 under par. Like the temps/wind chill faced by the viewers here in the Hudson area.
We recall, being in plain sight on our old TV since its a postgame show, the kissing of the proclaimed “best” trophy in sports, in the late night of one of those trio of college generated games, and could go to OT or more than one, even if that is after bedtime. That would be just like the Gopher bowl game out on the coast.
That brings to mind the old day of Ellie’s, when a big replica of an NHL trophy made by a local man was bantied about, for all who were even quasi-prominent to sign. I put my john henry in an obscure place, so not to be seen — apologies to U2 — until 40 days and 40 nights pass.
Back to the roles in bowls, some of them super …
In his starring gig in a series of ads, Gronk the gonzo tight end shows comedically that getting USAA insurance is perhaps more difficult to obtain than even SSDI! But being a veteran, and that’s the rub, helps on both counts. And this injury prone superstar has methinks more lives — as measured in his recoveries and then playing again — as a cat and its nine. We love the way he is so comfortable in poking fun at himself: “But I’m special!” Second to only Ozzy at that.
Or as Helmberger saith Ruthlessberger, both ending not with dessert, but Berger, in a Giannis type length of name.
Something finally went the Vikings’ way, but Cousins would have to take them five yards for a win, which after penalties and a sack raised the need to fifty, actually.
Also, the way the ball bounces — or fails to. The doubleheader-game center’s snap barely made it past his butt, then a scramble ensued including the QB for the (oblong) ball.
So Alary’s as a Bear Bar in St. Paul, to see these things that at long last came to pass, was likely shoulder to shoulder; but no more busty babe bartenders in bikinis, due to a redone format. Boo hoo.
But Da Bears, how bizzah, says Nate. Especially since shootings in that general area, and we’re not talking pool, are becoming more prominent, and that also harckens to a time way back, think gangsta days, and not the rap music version.
If they only were like the what’s-old-is-new-again, Lingerie Football League, in only their Brazzeres. That would make you channel surf between three games.
Then a commercial to best those in the Super Bowl, a big screen shot of that huge guy, torso longer then legs (like me) in one extreme to the other … but only an average inseam. Psst, it can be taken it in.
When near the goal line, and the Vikings love of running it straight up the gut for no gain in recurring fashion, it’s the reverse of the first we’ve heard of Once Bitten Twice Shy, because the old Dibbo’s, when Great White played there multiple times, is old hat.
So not to tip my hat to the play-calling. Another sorta Vikings? Only sorta?
Some of these were done in, using typical fashion, a play that was basically the wrong replay. Was this — again and also and in addition — the bias against the Razorbacks ringing true, as saith again my man when also drawing a Viking comparison? That replay only prevailed when the team got creamed, and thus did not effect the outcome.
Then one of those clones of inconsistency used on a trick play a wideout as QB. Why not a kicker also? Channeling Garo.
So at first in the playoffs, football style, the scores were more like a baseball game. Hence a bold prediction made for one end of such a contest, of 37-10 — only 3 or 7 then 10?
Still, when the Super Bowl neared, there were many times killer quarters, in games that should have been tight and defensively fought, had them largely decided by halftime. But then in the last of the lategoing, games were not languishing, but decided in the last seconds. More two-minute drills that went on for about ten.
When the man of the hour or day was entering the building, he wore flamboyant striped garb befitting a zebra, rather than a Bengal tiger, (so a lower case B? Something tells me that PETA could weigh in on this. Or that nun I know who interestingly mis-called her favorite team the Beagles. But why do we even need such nicknames? Doesn’t the name of a city count as enough? Can’t we just say, rather than the Washington football team, D.C. and leave it at that. Or the Politicos? But in reverse with soccer, the Team NL could be the National League squad.
So more suspicious quarterback conundrums were to follow, from those who could be in a quagmire of the righteously disgruntled, but Mr. Stafford had the last laugh.
So how do you know if you’re a redneck? As in a pro football QB. Of the 40-or-so (magic number) players on the roster, 25 are Cousins. Just kidding.
But Brady and Rodgers. Who will most likely go the way of Favre? More than once? But the luck of Rodgers against San Fran has been like a sifting search for a 49er gold result.
Better than beer …
From a-tight-end-other-than-Gronk, Cooper’s Kupp, my man’s pick for best at that position, was indeed overflowing in the bowl of bowls, as he made a passing attempt at running with the ball after the catch.
Fitting to a tee? The Titans had a record 91 players on their roster in the past season, so Adrian was not an anomaly. But I owe Mr. Peterson an apology, from a previous post, where I meant to wish him good luck in all future football endeavors, but was clumsy with the wording. The comparison extends, like a third broken tackle on a running play, as the Titans director of player personnel was sought for Minnesota general manager job.
Before the Super Bowl was even a memory, there had been nine assistant coaches hired by the home teams. Guess eight is not enough. And in Hudson, Super Bowl time taxi fares, between sports bars, had an hour wait.
So don’t rap on the rap, and stay for this halftime show that was among the most popular, even when not having the featured dancers give their typical twist and not have a wardrobe malfunction.
There was a massive delivery special offered by Jersey Mikes, just for the game, but does the shop on The Hill make it all the way through North Hudson to the turf of Big Guys BBQ — are their NFL home team marketplace rules?
Now I’m backpeddling, this was the Super Wild Card Weekend, and not the Minnesota Wild, and it had six games with right in the middle, Jan. 16, one sporting a vexing total of allowing just 66 yards in a key defensive category.
The Longest Yard(s) were seen during final football three minutes, and went all the way until last call and past, a span of at least 20 minutes — but the quarterback couldn’t spike ball after a poor run, so that last 14 seconds expired, and the game ended.
In a game where it was 14-0 with 11 minutes left in the first half, Brady abruptly throws a completion to Brate. And then there was a screen shot(s) of all those hair styles, more than a dozen, that Brady has gone through in his 44 years as a pretty boy. You would think they’d do that with supermodel wife Gisele.
But in another game, Matt Jones would finish his blockbuster night with (insert the racheting up scoring by the opposition) … prematurely 1:49 left, and that almost gave way to a loss.

— The frosty froth flailed forward, as a deep mid-February cold (for your beer that’s green or otherwise) led to a milder St. Patrick’s Day and first day of spring, kinda merged into one. Lot of takes melded into one, so see it under Uncategorized —

With a name like The Garage Bikes and Brews, you should know what to expect from this new and retooled celebration of St. Patrick’s Day, and lets add it spans the globe to embrace three different continents.
There is the unique combo, creatively speaking, of a cart carrying Mexican food, mostly, at the River Falls venue on Thursday, with just a wee bit of Irish fare being, of course, the more traditional for this day. Gotta say, they’re worlds away, across the seas … but giving the best of both worlds, including spicy or not so much, just the right amount of zest. So give some TLC to the TLP Taco Truck, when visiting it for this event, one of many that are held by it on occasion in conjunction with The Garage, in this case running from 3-7 p.m. The Garage Bikes and Brews, housed on Cedar Street, is well situated for often also, having events driven by trekking in cycles on its wide-ranging resume.
But for St. Patrick’s Day, music is provided by Bryan Anderson. He has done multiple recordings in Nashville, and is known as an up-and-coming act, the kind we like to feature. Salute him with a Guinness?
Along those lines, since this is St. Patrick’s Day, if you say to the guys at The Garage, that you found out about this on HudsonWiNightlife, you’ll get $1 off a pint (Irish term) of beer, so don’t forget to mention us.
Also in River Falls, around the same time frame, there is a potato soup — not necessarily just pub — crawl for the best such dish, and we will find out, indeed, just how many ways you can make spuds into a meal. There is more to this day then just corned beef and cabbage.
The 517 in downtown Hudson gives a new twist to that old favorite, the Rueben sandwich, by making it a triple decker, complete with fries for $14.50. That last flavorful bit reminds me of the other night in downtown New Richmond when amidst the loud hip-hop on the jukebox, I spotted on the tube a pro wrestling star who would have been more akin to subtle Irish ditties, called Sheamus. The name is like a longtime whimsical columnist for the Twin Cities Irish Gazette. But this Sheamus has a manager all ready to mix it up who looks just like an Old School potato farmer, with such an AC/DC-like hat to go. Very blue collar but a green theme. Like the rumblings I’ve heard about The 517 are about a contest there with the best server boasting a unique style and getting a perk, based on your judging.
That brings us around to Paddy Ryan’s Pub in the town of Hudson, which now is calling itself also a Boxty House, (try this version out!) and in addition to all the usual fare of this day and night, you can wash it down with an offering of 35 different brands of Irish whiskey and other such spirits from the island, in a shot or tumbler, and quite a few ethnic brews as well as the usual American. And check out also, such fare at their new location in River Falls.
The Wild Badger in New Richmond also has multiples of both DJs and shot-girl-served drinks — do you get more than one Irish-type redhead? — on Thursday night, although you might have to pinch a few pennies for the favor, and on the next two nights there are the bands Tim Sigler and Varsity Rejects.
So the status and offerings, this time around, of the Shamrock proud parade-and-the-like-festivities was the talk of the town in New Richmond earlier in the week. It will go on this year, at the usual time and place.
There is more to do on this day, that also throws non-traditional into the mix.
A woman checked out some beverage items, and the logical conversation piece was, whatcha doing for St. Patrick’s Day? Staying in rather than fighting the crowds, and having a brunch that starts with biscuits and gravy and eggs. The clerk responded in like manner, adding that she needed to work the next morning at 9, which she conceded is not that early .. but once the Irish get going, (the night before) …
A New Richmond clerk had green hearts on nine fingers counting thumbs, but not the ring finger, as she was all thumbs while being barren of such accessorizing … and a big green hat to match. On a poster on the wall was a man model for clothing, who had the same singular style of a faux ring finger — but this time it was on that digit as the only one, with a cross.
The wee ones are not to be left out, as their PJs were on special at certain stores, and there were green shirts of all limerick, especially childrens’ ditties to go with lots of styles.
These are odder bedfellows than the often-held bed races at parade, shown by a non-Caucasian and thus not Irish lad way back on March 5, sporting a totally sparkly hat.
Around that time, on one side of the street were three four-leaf clovers on a hanging plant stand for spring, where you would find U.S. flags and plenty of them just over three months from now, and for now they are next to a green fire hydrant, not flaming red.
Across the street is an Irish blessing on a doorway, weighing in at over 40 words, much like that song 40 by none other than the Irish band U2. Or one could say that particular doorway message had, by the numbers, a good half of the 95 thesis, to get a bit Lutheran on this largely Catholic holiday.

We all know that people like to get their Patrick’s Day started well before the 17th, and even though that is a Thursday this year, they have the luck of the Irish. And we are talking beyond a few, only DJ driven and well-before, pre-Paddy’s shows locally.
To get the ball rolling, a country group plays the Willow River Saloon in Burkhardt on Saturday night — named fittingly enough Erin’s Alibi. Like you need an excuse to be Irish oriented. They merge their presentation with classic and edgy new country, and a wee bit of rock.
But what’s becoming a new stalwart is a duo that plays at Ziggy’s every Monday night, Zeb Sears and Jim Hanvidt. But first letters aside, they aren’t ZZ Top, having refined their style of music from their earlier and heavier playing days, performing separate gigs while seven years apart musically, that you could say ran a parallel path, before meeting up again at an open mic, then knowing this was meant to be.
Still, Zeb described the new sound he’s fallen in love with as raw and defiant. And Jim has adopted what he calls slap acoustic guitar, from his time with the bass. Together, they are called Chimney Fish, having fully formed from an initial night of music at Shooter’s Pub in River Falls, then moving forward.

Politicians and poets, police and pundits, and words and lyrics, at play.
I’m guessing the old Incubus song, Megalomaniac — or a Black Sabbath standard, minus the C, that has a more sympathetic villian — is now seeing a barrage of new sales, Putin it back on the charts. And it didn’t exactly tank in the first place. But what historical figures would they choose to make their point? I quote: “You’re no Jesus. You’re no Elvis. Wash your hands of yourself baby. Step down, Step down …” That would be a slap in the face of Pontius Pilate. (And what would the history of the world and religion have been if Pilate had not washed his bands of it, and let Jesus go free? Good choice?)
On the topic of music, what’s old becomes new again. Iron Maiden’s most popular song, The Trooper, from back in the ‘80s, makes reference to “the mighty roar of the Russian guns.” However, such horseback warring as described in that song, goes back more than a century.
And we enter Sabbath again, and thus invoking the religion references, with War Pigs, and Maiden again, continuing the anti-nuclear conflict pitch from the Cold War with Two Minutes To Midnight.
But this is now. I saw a man at WalMart who appeared to be in an intense phone conversation. The guy was speaking with some urgency in what sounded to be an east European accent, (and would I necessarily know that if I heard it?) His facial features, although strained, also looked to be of that region. (Again, would I really know a Ukrainian from a Frenchman?)
More on firing weapons. Former police officer Kim Potter. She obviously made a huge mistake when thinking she pulled her taser, and maybe should have let up, but after the fact in the courtroom showed extreme remorse. What if in some form, there should be that harbinger of libel law, needing the presence of Actual Malice for conviction. That movie was all the rage when I was in J-School, and made Sally Field an unlikely choice as an object of desire.
Washing (of-hands) ton: There was more sitting and standing then sitting, during the state of the union address them during a church service.
In a death elsewhere, Minnesota lawmaker Jim Hagedorn was shown in possibly dated photos, with his glasses titled downward on one side – uhm, like mine often do. Still, shown at his side was his beautiful, dutiful wife. Not to be disrespectful of the newly departed, but let me get this straight: His political ilk is not exactly a collective poster child for diversity, and his wife is a younger, non-Caucasian. Much like Mr. Trump (who he resiliently stumped for) and his Mrs. Trump, the Russian immigrant, (I’d like to get a PR statement from her about the war in the Ukraine).
Another death elsewhere was the real king of bluster, (although there is an obvious Wisconsin tie-in), John Madden. These days, some sports commentators appeared to have learned from him. Heard the idea was floated about making another tie-in to the Badger State, and to the NHL all-star game and its newly created subgames, by having people chug Miller Lite until they had John’s girth, then try to win the speed skating contest. Along that line, Madden was known for hawking Miller with his bombasticness, in one commercial breaking through for a second time the paper entryway, like those seen to start the games he covered, that was full frame and then declaring “and another thing …” That more than anything else defines Joe, who is well known for slightly rephrasing content and bringing it up again and again. And along that line, one other thing … Just kidding.
Alas, Trump was found to have flushed massive key documents down the toilet, clogging it with reams of paper and excessive verbage. I guess his presidency was not the only thing to go down the crapper. Is Mr. Clean on retainer? TruthSocial?
This would not be good fodder for a vintage TV advertisement. Barefootin’ is the word. Or Bad Putin. Bad pun? Putin’ on the Ritz? Don’t need a Russian to judgment.
I do know, or strongly suspect, this concerning the remarkably similar circumstances of this to the Afghanistan exit. All those Americans who were given plenty of warning to get out but did not do so … I wonder how many of them were defense contractors and the like, who were going to stay every last day to make every last dime – or million – before getting out and almost got stung.
The state GOP spent almost $700,000 – taxpayer money actually — to pay a former court justice to dig even deeper into the idea that Trump actually won the 2020 election, and prepare a special report. The conclusion was that, as also determined by a select panel of jurists, (OK that’s just me), the impact was forking out $834.57 per chad.
And OK, the trucker blockade will no longer impact commerce, and thusly your wallet. That roll has been taken up by Putin and his war. All those idle truckers and nothing to do. We Got Ourselves Convoy, but going from zero to zero in just days, rather than the sung 100 mph. So word has it that some forms of commerce have actually picked up, such as sales of tortilla chips and Penthouse. And what if it had been goods such as masks that could not be shipped over country’s lines because of the blockade. That would make them truly optional. It all should come down to the quality of the argument you are making, while weighing how long to let such free speech protesters do their thing before an arrest is made. But I don’t know how you would arbitrate that. Another bureaucracy, the Federal Free Speech Special Exceptions And Conditions Unit?

Need a break? Need a day trip? Head to Prescott in western Wisconsin, where at Philanders they know their beer and even if coming from Minneapolis-St. Paul, it’s worth much more than the cost of trekking, with their cheap rates that include award-winning food.
Aren’t these things that a road trip is all about? And if you stay for the night shift at Philanders, you’re covered until 2 a.m. or a half-hour later on weekends, for Twin Citians used to cumbersome closing constraints.
In their extended seven-hour happy hour, there is a long list of big domestic beers offered at a price seldom seen anywhere. And unlike most places that hawk a beer brand or two during that in-their-cases-limited time, you have many more choices at Philanders that go beyond Miller Lite and Coors, although they have those also, during the happy hour special on domestics that runs from a great 11 a.m. start until 6 p.m. Now that’s the capper on a day trip.
But you need food too. Their famous, for reasons cited, jumbo wings have won multiple awards for their size and flavorful, juicy taste. Each piece comes tossed in a Cajun ranch dry rub with just the right amount of kick. These again, famous wings have been voted people’s choice as the best in multiple local wing and brew competitions.
The special avocado burger is another award winner, voted the best burger through the Prescott Chamber of Commerce Burger Battle competition. There is also a new such creation each month. A half-pounder can be under $10, and Philanders has, regularly, chicken as an option to your burger. And oh, you can order up to six cheeses to go with.
Philanders has award winning slow-cooked and finished-on-the-grill BBQ ribs. They’re voted the people’s choice, another time around for that distinction, for the best ribs in town at the Prescott Daze rib fest hosted by Churchill Liquors, and you might want to check them out also.
Atlantic salmon in all seasoned ways is a favorite here. It can be honey cured and hickory smoked, cooked and then pan seared with avocado salsa and a drizzle of habanero, or grilled and made a bit crispy. Creamy horseradish is there for you as well, sometimes in a recipe dressed up with cranberry.

Let’s get back to the music. And further down in this post, a whimsical tale about such tuneage, and the taxi driver connection.
This band has not only a one-word name, but its lack of capitalization is enough to be hip. The musical act houseboats could not wait until spring on the St. Croix River to get cruising, so they are at Urban Olive and Vine on Saturday, early evening. Their style has been said to be a double B, somewhere between this area’s own Bon Iver and Bruce Springsteen, also well known to certain people in these parts through the magic of being backstage.
Pop ROCKS may be a two-word name, but is more and more in demand, as their promo poster shows pyrotechnics at the center of the stage reminding one of early KISS, but add in some throw-back hip-hop to accompany all the genres you would expect. They are at Ziggy’s Friday night, and the next evening it’s Rough House, showing a guitarist with roughly chiseled abs and pecs and biceps.
A couple of bands are trying to get more local with their gigs, after exploring clubs on the outer rim on the west side of the Twin Cities, and going north.
Two Shots Down has a musician I met at Buffalo Wild Wings when working as a server, who provides an uncommon lyrical advantage, and when the conversation turned to music at length I could see there was a rapport. Based on the name-tag, I like The Fonz thought of her as Mrs. C. But early on, I’d also noticed a flat chest of the same dimension as the stomach. Then after the length of several guitar solos, there was that tug on the mask to reveal the side of the face – and a lot of facial hair! The reverse of Dude Looks Like A Lady!
It seems everyone needs a day job these days. This includes a cabbie I met over summer who also does it all for the Stone Daisy Band. Then I was his fare just a few weeks ago, as well. A country powerhouse, they say. And the physical appearance of Hank Williams Jr, we say. They tentatively are set to play Ziggy’s Match 11.

They made you take your shots in Minnesota, so as far as bars and restaurants, you ended up in a largely mask-less (waste?)land.
For a fickle few days, more like a week, patrons at such venues in the likes of St. Paul and Minneapolis were made to have credible evidence of having been vaccinated, to be served food and drink indoors in this the dead of winter. So western Wisconsin again became a dumping ground for Twin Citians not fully vaccinated, although there was no such requirement for the servers themselves. It became the reverse of what it had been in Hudson, when making a comparison as far as masking, where those who poured drinks and brought food might have tied one on — their face of course — but you knew if they wore a mask to be here and guzzle they were “tourists.” Or patrons who had the right idea when starting off in downtown Hudson on the south end of Second Street at Ziggy’s and then Hop and Barrel as far as bards, then made the historically typical bar trek northward on the east side, not the west side where most of the taverns are.
And with the behavior, some of the slobs remained the same, although in part due to cold not every night was the attendance rager of a year or so ago. Right before and after the temporary metro ban on the non-vaccinated, the day made the difference in crowds.
But then there was that day. Walked in and shook off the cold and innocently took a seat at the bar, when I swear the guy standing at an angle, but off to himself, on a side where I had not gotten, muttered “whatcha lookin’ at.” My eye had only been, briefly even then, on the bartender. Seconds later a bit of a boisterous bud and his buddies walked by to join a trio of women at the bar-rail. One of them kinda squawked at her friend, then turned her body and attention to the veteran bartender for a prolonged set of questions about what was billed on their order and the price(s).
Heading out the door to again go northward, there was a guy on his cell phone trying to explain the intricacies of a seemingly big problem to his girlfriend — at length between her squawking at him. You could tell I coulda made the trek all the way around the block and back to the other end, go passed them again (I don’t know where she was calling from) and they would have gotten no further with a resolution.
Much more peaceable on the next night were a couple all decked out (still) in red in decorated sweaters and posh pants, the only crew shooting darts and talking about their metro place of residence. All down the bar toward the end where people I would have to describe as either townies, or Citians. The only main place where you will find such local folk these days, mostly edging middle age, is in Plaza 94 at Jonesey’s Local (fittingly named) and the adjoining Hudson Bowling Center and its smaller bar area. All this with news a few days later of Illinois being one of the first to back off (no word about Iowa).

There can be advantages to the snowfalls, inch by inch, we’ve been having lately, and they play out at The Gas-Lite in Ellsworth on Saturday, with the stellar (might as well be the house) band Hitchville playing as well.
But for starters, there is the Trimbelle Hill and Valley (both of those) Snowmobile Club Party that gets underway at 5 p.m. with a drawing to be held an hour later. And it seems a certainty that there will be while fluff on the ground to prime the snowmo pump for such an event.
Then at 8 p.m. Hitchville goes on, with their wide range of rockin’ country that goes back more than a decade, and at that point they broke onto the scene with songs (and we’re not just talking the usual tired covers) like Hole In The Wall — and that was definitely not penned for The Gas-Lite. But in 2016 there was more, with the tune Even When It’s Bad It’s … This was linked to the Soundtrack to Life, and does that not sound like a country theme?
But then we know what Monday is, so let’s get even more topical. Speaking of things that could be viewed as dive bars, but still have killer grub beyond the bar food, there is Dick’s bringing around their tried and true V-Day special. For under $30, you can get a pound of fresh-caught but way up north snow crab legs, or a 6 ounce filet minion, with fixings. For a few bucks more you can get both, but just a half-pound of the legs.
So why single out Dick’s? There is more on Mondays, although we won’t guarantee that being what this one is, they will be available then also. You can get the best of frozen pizza — and there is such a thing — for $4 at the bar, harkening back to a day when it used to be only 99 cents, but there is that inflation thing, you know. And there’s more, DJ trivia early, with the clue of the day on social media, so get out your Google. As advertised, good food, cold beer and marginal service. Ha, ha. And there can be ten-person team competition, so gather nine of your brainiac friends … And as far as the food special, it is certified safe by the likes of fish managers from the movie Perfect Storm, think Wahlberg and Clooney. Just kidding, but you get the rub. And jumping back to the game end of things, the only place you’ll get more and also varied is down the road at the Hudson Tap, but that’s for another time.