The local, if I can call it that, news remains the same, even though there is yet another acquisition of the Hudson-Star-Observer, as much ballyhooyed in their latest round of weekly lead stories — and maybe even placed above the fold ahead of the once ethically forbidden ads at times taking up space.
The latest buyout will undoubtedly bring more of the same, just packaged differently under the guise of a “hyper-local” news focus that claims to go after, in part, the burgeoning Hudson street scene. This could be seen as a comparison I’ll make, to the classic metal album, back in the days before CDs, Seventh Son of a Seventh Son — and do the new powers that be and their alleged nightlife focus even know what I’m talking about? In the beginning there was the Star-Observer, which begat Western Wisconsin Publishing, which begat Rivertown News, which begat Red Wing Publishing Company, which begat Forum Publishing, which now begat O’Rourke Media Group, and then begat Moonchild Intergalactic News (again are they clueless about the music metaphor I just made up? And they think they have the chops to report on entertainment?)
Christ where does it end? It’s like the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel being bought out by Gannett as part of the deal to possess a randomly estimated 62 percent of the dailies In The State And Beyond, so free content for all practical purposes can be spread around.
<<News break: This added take on the political and journalism world and how it is viewed, the decisions, decisions these days, as seen through the eyes of the National Guard and the choices I assume they have to make — go northeast or northwest from Hudson to serve the massive need, you can’t do both. As Dire Straits sang: “Two men say they’re Jesus. One of them must be wrong. There’s a protest singer, he’s singing a protest song.” So, more on “hope” if you reference the Notes on the Beat department, and the last and I hope final political silliness, on a person to person level, under Uncatagorized.>>
Corporate Journalism is, again, alive and well here. And the reporters and even associate editors will tell you, on the QT, they hate what it has become.
Case in point: The hallmark of their what is old is now new again twist is a lengthy series on water quality as it is effected by, basically, corporate farming. (Is this the stained pot calling the same kettle black?) Good journalism, I’m sure, but there is nary a farm to be found in the Hudson area, so why is this on the front page of Star-Observer? Back to the future, as has been complained about at length by so many readers, for example, that the latest hiccup in hoidy-toidy Woodbury politics is of no interest to someone in even more hoidy toidy Hudson, and indeed that says something. Yet this is all we are fed here because, as you already know, it it getting by on the cheap, regurgitating something “regional” for free because it came from an affiliate. And they are everywhere!
I know all this because I used to be a big part of the public face at the Star-Observer, being the guy with the great big camera at all the local festivals, when the alleged main photographer always bailed and I would cover for her — but then after 16 years I got downsized. But people still associated me with the local rag, and I don’t know how many times a quiet evening out was very compromised by somebody bitching to me about why it is has fallen from grace and is not nearly what it used to be, and Joe can you do something about the scenario?
So it I’m sure will be, again, more of the same. You know it, and I know it, and they know it. The corporate game is to hope readers will not so distressed and distraught about the lack of true local news that they actually cancel their subscription. It is garbage in and garbage out, and apathy wins. Really want to get your game back on? HudsonWiNightlife will fix your sorry corporate butt for a small consultant fee, say the less than $16 an hour I made after 16 years on the job.
And this is not sour grapes, rather giving the public something they want, and that is a great read. Everyone likes to see the powers that be get taken to task. Its not personal, just business. And all you corporate hacks can surely understand that one.
Oh, this just in. This city of Hudson issued there annual water quality report, more postage and paper to all the souls that are within their jurisdiction, saying everything in Mayberry is just fine. But there was that local little old lady who found a grimy red drip out of her faucet, so maybe reporting that as far as the above criticized series does indeed make it local.
With that last bit of satire, lets see if the new Star-Observer can keep up with, in specialized content, HudsonWiNightlife. I will say, they are much better at being on top of new business stories that include nightclubs than I — since my website is more like a magazine than a breaking news, newspaper as far as timeliness — as then they can send one of their cutie pie young ad reps to wink at the owner and thus seal the final deal to extract advertisement dollars. And they did indeed be the first to point out that one of the latest dead men in the northern parts of Minneapolis was once a Hudson resident. Kudos to them for finally localizing it! Just don’t expect it on any kind of regular basis.
It takes all kinds in the publishing world; even they have their niche. It takes a village? Maybe that will help, between all of the various publishing outlets, to bring baby back the cool nightlife scene that was Hudson.

(Editors note: This is a more extended followup to a question I posed based on the Nextdoor village site, based on a commentator’s comparison of Stairway to Heaven lyrics, to the violence and looting in the Twin Cities following shootings of Black men by police officers. Quora also had a hint that such meaning would be valued).
The particular verse he cited of the Led Zeppelin song reads: If there’s a bustle in your hedgerow don’t be alarmed now. It’s just a spring clean for the May Queen.” I asked if anyone knew the religious reference being made in the last phrase, and gave the hint that its origins predate Christianity. So here goes.
The verse refers to a pagan religious practice to honor the earth with each coming of spring, and with it renewal. Like so many of their traditions, Christians co-oped the celebration and formed it around Mother Mary, and much less so Mother Earth. Use of the term hedgerow is apt because of the direct connotation to invoke nature. This is a time of the season for not “bustle” and confusion, but cleansing and the spiritual orderliness that comes from “the piper calling us to reason.”
<<The rest of the story>>
A buddy of mine who knows his music, in part because of an Asperger’s streak, and indeed may soon report on such in these pages, was unsure about the meaning until being told the May Queen ending reference. Then it came clear. I seem to recall that he was fingering a rosary at the time. Far from the reply by another commentator on Nextdoor, who simply murmured, “what??????”
Super-friendly super-singer Robert Plant, in some of the many in-concert recordings, introduces the already lengthy anthem — which has several versions of minutes-long guitar solos that are craftsman-like and border on the heavenly — by saying “this is a song of hope,” echoing the themes that could be parallels to today’s violence. “And a new day will dawn, for those who stand long, and the forests (again one of the many nature references), will echo with laughter.” Then the commentary, inserted between verses because of its importance, “laughter, do you do you remember laughter?”
There are other rock songs that deal with both Christianity and Paganism simultaneously. One of the more recent, featuring a lamentation to go to meet God in the mansion he has prepared without a long wait in this earthly realm, is by Audioslave: “In your house I long to be. Room by room patiently … I will pray to the gods and the angels, like a Pagan, to anyone who will take me to heaven.” The super-group’s singer, the late Chris Cornell, was using this as a side project to get out his religious feelings, which built on and really were not much different than those with his main band, the decades old Soundgarden, which featured grunge and beyond.
Even more noteworthy of this religious tandem is the song The Wicker Man by Iron Maiden, with a good half-dozen such extended spirituality-based metaphors, many right from the Bible but it doesn’t stop there, but it is far too complex and multifaceted to be addressed now. And also Rainbow in Man on the Silver Mountain, and Judas Priest in Exciter, refer to a cleansing by fire that leads to growth, by an unnamed deity.
So I will close with the speak-for-itself words of none other that The Ozz Man, in his post-Black Sabbath and Randy guitar great period of 40-some years ago, and long before it was mainstream and popular by Christians to refer to God as Mother, unless in some seminaries, but the feminine side of God the Father and even Jesus since has been proclaimed to include things such as nurturing of the land and its stewardship. So here without further ado is Revelation (Mother Earth): “Mother please forgive them, for they know not what they do, looking back in history’s books we see its nothing new, please let my mother live. Heaven is for heroes and hell is full of fools, stupidity, no will to live by breaking God’s own rules, please let my mother live. Father, of all Creation, it seems we’re all doing wrong, taking seems to be breaking and it won’t take too long. Children of the future, watching empires fall, free from the final judging the destruction of all …” In the second half of the ballad turned metal,  Steal Away, The Night, Ozzy gives his answer on how to obtain salvation.

Much more such analysis coming over time, on this and other related fronts. Joe.

The Chauvin verdict of guilty is in, and the fallout into Hudson and its bar sector continues and grows, putting another snag on what a server at Hudson Tap termed, a hearty welcome to bringing back the regulars from town. And the recent edict of an official 25-percent-capacity rule in St. Croix County venues sealed the deal further.
Now we are back to not 12:30 limitations in the village of North Hudson, as they were not letting people in after that, but now front and center midnight. Dick’s Bar in the downtown has upted the ante, also shutting down bar service — food appears to be another game — come the witching hour. As a server said over the phone, “it just got too crazy.”
Prior to that, people driving through said it was hopping until indeed D-Day. But a different twist: A nephew working in the south end of the Twin Cities said that he was basically out hours because his clothing store shut down, not just closing early, at the height of all this mess.

<<News break: More of the same as an update that keeps on growing and growing, as well as the antitheses, for being good neighbors, the years-running and killer, if I can say that, garage sale on Cherry Circle North. If you can’t find it here you don’t need it, down to the White Elephant. See the Uncategorized department of this web page, which is also the official social media sponsor — OK were getting way too big a head now.>>

People these days seem to go one of two ways, being very understanding of unusual situations or the other end and judgmental and even scamming, as my mom has told me over and over, so watch out. To wit: A beautiful young Black woman was driving through the albeit-crowded County Market parking lot, and I was a Rolling Stones — not Brown Sugar mind you — throw away from the raft of cars by me that were parked on the side, I was not in the way at all. Still, she rolled down the window to halfmast and thanked me for moving out of the way, when I was not in the way to start with. And I have said on these pages, the virus situation will not be cured by government programs, although they definitely have their place, rather in the trenches, neighbor to neighbor, friend to friend. People these days seem to go one of two ways, being very understanding of unusual situations or the other end and judgmental and even scamming, as my mom has told me over and over, so watch out. This can bring out the best in people, but not always. To wit: A beautiful young Black woman was driving through the albeit-crowded County Market parking lot, and I was a Rolling Stones — not Brown Sugar mind you — throw away from the raft of cars by me that were parked on the side, I was not in the way at all. Still, she rolled down the window to halfmast and thanked me for moving out of the way, when I was not in the way to start with. And I have said on these pages, the virus situation will not be cured by government programs, although they definitely have their place, rather in the trenches, neighbor to neighbor, friend to friend.

A Black man and his White lady friend came into Green Mill at the height of the uprisings across the river and into the Cities. I and the staff had never seen them there before, and this is perhaps the first Black person ever that has been prominent in the place. This is only poignant because I and only one other person, an older guy doing just appetizers rather then Bloodies, were the only ones in the bar, underscoring the idea that this was unusual. They also were middle aged, not the young punks who have taken over he downtown scene. And there might be more to that analogy. as they were Classic Rock Fan Age, rather than rap: Both were wearing Harley attire, with their hats and sweatshirts, in a realm that is more typical of white male bikers, even though this timing was earlier than happy hour.
But but back to my beloved Kwik Trip, all the way further into lily white Hudson by being set up in the northern village. They had two people in line with dark skin that was even more noticeable because of their attire that virtually cried I’m Not From Hudson, from their long black trench coat and really cool rounded hat, and not the baseball variety. Again all deep black, and making a nice style statement not seen here often…

Another set of curfew circumstances, from another shooting of someone at a traffic stop, and more and more the impact of such incidents in the metro are spilling with their broad tentacles across the border not just between the two big twin cities, but also between the two states.
The city of Champlin in northern Hennepin County has extended its curfew through the entire weekend, so you know where those potential weekend warriors are likely to go. Head East. Not the Warehouse District.
One would expect that in areas of the metro opposite the city where the shooting took place, there would be a transfer of the main party scene. Just ask my friend Amanda, who used to bartend at Wild Bill’s in Woodbury. That would be especially true early-week at that bar and others like it eastward into Wisconsin, with removal in spots of the often-held option of the Minnesota Wild games at the XCel Energy Center and its spat of nearby sports bar, with people then moving eastward if the contest is ended in regulation with a low-goal score.

<<News break: We’re keeping score at the venues in the village and their reaction. OK, only one North Hudson venue, being used in almost real time to tell the tale of two states. See the Uncatagorized department>>

But part of the effect of such rules and curfew constraints is having freedom to move about restricted, even in cities without the official limitations, especially as press releases cite that members of the public should note a heightened police presence near areas where rioting might occur. There is just a general chilling effect that spills over into other jurisdictions concerning how police deal with travel to routine activities such as going to your favorite club, so that heightened police presence is likely not limited to Brooklyn Park and Center — although this reality is not advertised much by officials in various cities, towns and villages. As was famously rapped, No Sleep Till Brooklyn.
These things to a lesser but also noticeable degree in a place like Hudson, both then and especially now. Lets examine this:
If you are driving in the downtown late at night and are pulled over for, say, having a headlight out, the first question invariably will be, “where are you coming from tonight?” Apparently its a sin, if not a crime, to drive through through that stretch of town around midnight. Once my wife who works as a minister had some fun, accurately, to that question and dropped this bomb, “I was at church.”
“Have you had anything to drink tonight?”
“Communion wine.”
He said to make sure and signal when going through the intersection that held not another car in sight.
Whether it is legitimate for an officer to ask such a leading question is a gray area. (It should be noted that coming to and from religious events is almost always considered an exemption from the no driving rule in curfews).
Once in mid-winter I was driving home after an ice storm and the windows had that troublesome sheen, although I could still see my way down a barren Second Street. The cop said he could not let me go further until the ice was completely removed, but no ticket or warning. He did not ask me if I’d had anything to drink. I had consumed two whiskey sours on ice during the course of the evening. These days there is simply no way the situation would be resolved that easily. I was having trouble with the scraping and walked back to the squad car to explain why I was lingering. Again, in the Twin Cities these days that could be a fatal question.
One of the exemptions is for “credentialed” members of the media. A freelancer like me might be sent home, if not arrested. Is a blog like HudsonWiNightlife an actual publication? Again, gray area. It might depend on if the cop knows you.
When I was downsized from the Hudson Star-Observer as a staffer, the editor and I agreed that I could still submit photos, usually of a fire or auto accident, that would get me a Benjamin or a bit more if used. Once I was downtown and saw that the stoplights were not functioning — a matter that for a while seemed to be happening far too often — and I took a photo of an officer directing traffic right in the middle of the midnight intersection. He yelled over to me to ask what I was doing at the moment I held the camera to my eye. After I responded, he told me to wrap it up and be on my way. I think I can safely say that if I were to do the same thing in Minneapolis in 2021, I might be shot.
Most people I talked to now, although not all, in and around Hudson noticed more cops out and about midweek in places that would normally not be as high a priority. To wit: A badged orange-and-yellow-Stryper who was apparently checking out a parked car on the main drag and a squad car from out of state travelling, also on the main drag, between Hudson and North Hudson. A key: The early rioting spilled over into Minneapolis, so there is a certain need to spread greater enforcement to a broader area.
Thus, there are vague, catch-all buzzwords such as “unlawful assembly” charges, and we are not talking about moshing at a Danzig concert. You get the point.
So hopefully, all this can be put behind us and all we have left to deal with involving interstate travel (regionally) to see your favorite band are those pesky and jurisdiction-hopping and thus varying mask requirements.

In late fall, I saw a woman raking with not one hand clapping, so to speak, but two of these wicker things going at once. As she put aside one of these two rakes while beside a garbage bin, not a wicker basket, for only that purpose, she added that the Farmers Almanac had predicted that this winter would be one of the most trying, in multiple ways such as snow, than any in recent times. And now the cold has arisen and reclaimed its spot as the season to be reckoned with.
Jump forward to this slowly (in most ways) oncoming spring, and there was the neighbor who stepped rather eagerly forward to chat, and said in his immediate recall was the past Easter, in addition to the 2021 version where people were forging out for in-person worship, that was not very hot but did feature four inches of snow, and he streamed a service on his computer, and a message (from above?) came to him out of the blue: Jesus will wash away what the weather brings, toward salvation, virus or no virus, religion or naught. And this season, the temps again hit 80 like in a Sunday long ago, only two days later.
And rakes again? A neighbor of mine, not hers, had two of them — or were they shovels as I forget from being in the moment — and between them was filtered a springlike message cloth. The evening before, the local man cave/garage was going again in absentyism via a well-worked outdoor patio, with some people leaving shortly after about Two Minutes to Midnight and the rest lingering like the Angels In The Tomb (sorry to get so religious with that reference to another cave). And the very next day, the tell-tale scooter was out and parked sideways in front of the garage door, another harbinger of spring, even moreso then All The Small Trees at a roadside park just to the north that always seems to be a deeper green on days the virus was closer to being curbed. And at the nearby Bible Baptist parsonage, the eggs late hanging from tree branches were along the last lines of two dozen.
And with that, oddly, the local church lady’s family had leftover only a dangling green participle in a token birch tree, where Easter messages always abounded, maybe a backhanded ode to the virus? After citrus salad of the upcoming summer, I’m guessing, the clan was out shoveling dirt around the token remaining tree to keep moving forward with their rejuvenation project Way Out Front, where there had not been more bushes since almost the Bush presidency. Still had thought they looked cool. Making me look really bad in a Keep Up With The Jones style.
Across the cul de sac, the mound of snow created by village plows was long gone, like the mountains that Led Zeppelin says were washed away. In there place were makeshift forays of touch football and batting practice, as the guy who was a switchhitter struck out from the right side but nailed a could-be-a-double with a shot just to the left of second base, when doubling up as a lefty.
The weather again went sour, in this case very cold, for the Unfrost Your Nuts motorcycle rally, and in this case I think that testosterone was diminished to highway-to-the-danger-zone type proportions, as these parts were exposed to really frigid leather, despite the presence of much lace. So what’s a biker to do? Hit the Kwik Trip for snacks, between revving engines to well above speed limit again in what testosterone was left, and in keeping with recent court decrees at state, few of them were with masks. An exception from a few days before was an Easterish biker chick so covered in black label leather that all skin, even around her face, was covered to the point that it became hard to see if she was Caucasian. Not as if this bit of content matters.

The mountain of snow across the way from the house is long gone, as are in very recent times the other remnants of winter maintenance. The orange sticks in the stone that showed where next to a sidewalk you would find something like a fire hydrant have been removed even before the latest dusting of snow, and rose up a full three feet just in case the Farmer’s Almanac was right. Even that might not have been enough, as more height was needed and the manufacturing of said two feet more were outsourced to a place where they know snow — Siberia! But this offer was withdrawn as it might give the Russians another foothold in elections that are still more than three years away. OK, I made all that up. With these are gone from the scene the gnarly looking pink-orange piles of pothole fill you’d see here and there on paths to and from the  bars. Did actually, somebody party a bit too much?

What About Bob for the Board of Education? Or Rob? As in Bob B, or Rob B? And a few other intro letters in combo as Joe is milking a joke again. With a few exceptions aided by the pandemic, prompting use of both buzz words and one like “metrics,” they and their stances might seem one and the same, as it could be seen as all about either Bob, as their signs were out all over yards and ditches early-on. Others soon followed with their takes, first other School Board candidates, then some village and city trustee candidates, then hopefuls for state superintendent of public instruction and lastly, a couple more trustees in waiting.
As seemed to be dictated by how close proximity the signs were placed, there were some with web site names you could log onto that literally bordered on 100 characters. That’s much more than three classrooms worth of sniffly kids to reach.
And then there was that wind (of change?) on consecutive days that not only blew some signs down, especially on The Morning After, and after that, but also wrapped them around each other if all on the same pike. And with the laws that now dictate how long you can keep a sign up, many were still up and running well into Wednesday, and one in the tiny front of That Little Old House On Monroe Street remained in place even well after that. And furthermore, and further into the week, you could still see those gaggle of signs on the corner by that old store name called Freedom (of speach?), half hawking hopefuls and half specific-niche businesses, (lobbying potential?) Half had soon blown down as the wind had shifted, so to speak.
But on days before, there were men from Mars, women from Venus — and candidates of both genders on Pluto! That’s where a coalition who were, jointly, advertising their merits on that new cable channel. One who I will not name was a downtown-friendly person to a degree, if you get my drift, at least back in the day. Before election day
And this latest election day was showing promise to Be Big On The Turnout, riding on the coattails of a presidential campaign that set a new lack of boundaries, from here to the Boundary Waters and beyond, so the observing pole sitters, and I’m were there were a few, were in a position to get a form of “exercise” that found them getting more squat.

The way things are going with the bar scene, as people again get out and about from all over — although there was not much a different pattern than over the winter months — one could wonder what delighful or decadent Easter dresses would hold sway: Sporty, stocky, stylish, short, sleek, slender, sexy, slim, small sizes, skimpy, all could be part of sorting it all out, but more the end then the beginning of considerations.
Outside the Village Liquor store, there is a drop-off box for Easter Seals donations of clothing and shoes, but on my walks I have not seen anyone actually drop something in. If you have a closet full of such stuff — and while your dress size might change with weight loss, but not your shoe size — today may be your last to fit the bill for this holiday cycle. But I’m sure there will be a call for more of this soon …
At play is a man I had not seen before on my walks, who said that last Easter, when streaming any Easter services was the only option (no word yet on what happened this time around), and there were four (to quote him), inches of snow on that Holy Day, which might be topped off only by the (unholy or not so and more of that later) Halloween blizzard of 30 inches in days of yore, this time with even an early Easter there were temps that hit 80 degrees. Invoke Easter Monday, to be clear, as that is when we got to that level of warmth. The Man said, that when streaming a bit more than a year ago, and got the Easter thing solved for him, God came to him in an instant and conveyed, again, this message, Jesus through (Blood Sweat and Tears) indicated that he would melt all that snow-(Blind?) with his (Sacred to again quote Black Sabbath) heart
And this is Easter Monday, and my wife who knows all this stuff like no one else, said that its a biggie in church circles. So my neighbor, whose wife has worked in the church, said about that Day Like Any Other Day, (to quote one of Foreigner’s first hits), actually falls into a theological “50 day” rule after the grave. The Man said, with a look on his face that showed he knows, added that the schools were even out on this day, both public and private, virus or no virus. And when is the Man Cave to hit the can’t-find-music-anywhere-else void? Actually it was the previous day, all along.
On clothing two days earlier, there were a couple of little girls out walking with their moms and/or puppies (early Easter present?) and sporting their princess dresses (also maybe an Easter present?)
They trekked past various houses that had indeed been decked out with eggs and the like since mid-March or before. One had five bunnies on a stick (the best substitute in the near future for the State Fair), and even more eggs both by the house and up-front by the mailbox. Another sported three great big eggs, Easter Triduum, that were multi-colored beyond the norm and couldn’t have been from an actual chicken, and to complete the package displayed pastel chalk renderings on the driveway near the street, and then a gap, and closer to the doors more along the Easter theme. The overall pattern was much like that by a family at the other end of the circle, where a police-line of sorts was erected even in the vicinity of last April garage sale days, to cordone off the front-of-the-house third of the driveway at the expense of the other two-thirds. Cherry Circle will again batten down the hatches in the third full week of this month, to get it all going again.
Down near Lake Mallelieu was a small house with a whole yard of All These Small Things, and up a ways were several colored balloons adding to that same theme. Between was a neighbor’s house full of devout Catholics who did not have up their bountiful Easter messages, just more chalk steering in an orderly direction, but no banners, save the white lights left-over from Christmas on a few bushes in front of their front window.
Who would be open on Easter when, In The Neighborhood, via there signs? Village Inn said they would open for their killer breakfast option at 7 a.m. then carry on until 5 with food (pizza only in many cases). After that, the only game left was the bar, which would remain open until 10 p.m. That does one or two better than Kozy Korner across the way, which was open for food until 2 p.m. and drink until 4 p.m.
And then back a week to St. Patrick’s Day:
Again, Village Liquor had a sign that had the Irish greeting Slainte Bhaithe, with a heart showing behind the words, and the other side expressed well wishes on that day to a Sir Charles of sorts. They were closed the following Monday, that even after the holiday weekend, as was Kozy Korner for a time for inventory, as they must have had the tills working overtime to collect cash. And of the cars by Village Liquor, in a check that was made late afternoon, all but one or two of the half-dozen were from going-green Minnesota, (one car left as I was still at curbside). And back to that sign, as always seems to be the case with that business, one side shed light on what the other conveyed, (are you traveling north or south?), in this case R U Thirsty? Which I think, and HudsonWiNightlife kinda sorta is the only one to link these things together, is far different than U R Thirsty. Is the punctuation at the end, a period or a question mark. You get it.
Last on signage, Jeff Loven was not at the much-proclaimed (again church word) if even I am the only one proclaiming it to this degree, gig on Sunday nights, but one earlier prior to Easter at the Village Inn. Alas, and I did a double take but am pretty sure I’ve got this right, his name was spelled Lovan, with the wrong vowel, for a while. But they showed Loven some loving and got it right a few hours later. You know what a vowel is, even if tripsy. I trust U do.

Amongst the fanfare of trumpets, there’s more to the season than Alleluia, although the group mentioned here has at times been backed by a full orchestra. Re-enter the metal realm and indeed what it has to say — and I don’t mean to get too religious here, although there is an almost universality behind many of these messages — about Christ’s decision to descend into hell and gain salvation. After all, this is at its creation a music website, so as a friend of mine once said, “if your’s is more a spirituality …”
Leading this list is Dream Theater, which it should be noted did a great cover to the Iron Maiden classic song — some would say the best in metal — Hallowed Be Thy Name. But the video I’m discussing shows a Christ-like figure in a darkened motel room contemplating his fate and faith, concerning what he would do to follow his father’s wishes and allow himself to be crucified.
Without further ado, this is a synopsis of the anthem-length landmark song from that band, Pull Me Under, to die for sins unstated.
“Lost in the sky, Clouds roll by and I roll with them. Arrows fly. Seas increase and then fall again … This whole world is spinning without me.
“Watch the sparrow falling, Gives new meaning to it all … I’ll take seven lives for one. And then my only father’s son. As sure as I did ever love him, I am not afraid … All future to past … Pull me under. Living my life too much in the sun. Only until your will is done. All I can do is to set it right. Oh that this too. Too solid flesh. Would melt.” As the song goes on, and the third chorus takes place, there are these telling alterations: The world is spinning “around” me, and then spinning “inside” me ..

The ending scene: The god-man walks out of a open door into a lighted hallway. Hence the reference to Melt.
This is not an isolated instance within the genre. But for more of the same, please view the added post that will be up soon from this “heathen” in the Notes From The Beat department. For now it is time to head for church, to regain the Good News, to use a religious term, that is the darkness before the dawn.

Hey, you want to make turducken for Easter? Hail to you and your ambition, because there are enough other dishes to make, even if they are not as time-consuming. And there are many ways to make it your very own, also, if quite creative. And sometimes with the sauce(s) that can be a DIY gem in the kitchen — and we’re not talking about new cabinets,  although making them for your breezeway might be more of a breeze then taking on turducken — the thicker a consistency they have the better. Read on.

<<News break: For more of the April Fools Day humor gone gonzo, see the uncategorized department of this web site, where you will find, to quote Zeppelin, again, What Is And What Should Never Be.>>

But I have to say, can’t animals and especially poultry, get the virus also? Once, twice, three times an entree. You might get three virus situations, while stuffing and then cooking, for the price of one — a good reason to go tofu? So, you kill each of the three hens — figuratively of course — with individual sauces, such as many Asian brands that are heavy on sweet and sour, BBQ and/or honey, and even “duck” sauce, applicable reference, and you can make it on your own, even greater if you are a vegetarian, by using as a base the ol’ plum sauce and/or the fruit itself, and add if needed a bit of grape jelly and/or brown sugar and/or cinnamon. With all of these ingredients, and their amounts as dictated by personal taste and in the horseradish addition end the tolerance of the sting to the mouth, putting some sauce on the sides could be the rub — place a small side dish cup in all four corners. Too, find such a place for excess stuffing, and even top off the extra sage with a bit of hot sauce, and you have a Cajun-styled version. And for the ways you can  make on your own all the above sauces, they are/were on this web page. I do indeed realize this increases prep time. And if they say 10 minutes on the label(s), question that assumption, or you might the night before cutting into your Easter vigil time..
(And to ratchet up the heat even more, the chopped horseradish that is a vegetable, not just a creamy sauce, and served as a dip for various other veggies, so you can reduce the boatload of leftovers and also can really rock your buffet, so visitors can munch while the kids look for their colored eggs and candy — more on that later).
Or bake and ladle on — in a way with the sauces and such that has more substance than the killer cocktail by that method of delivery for those having a birthday served free to the birthday lush at the Smilin’ Moose — so the edges meld or melt together, as long as the liquids are not too runny, and this is where heavy and hearty and steadfast chimes in,  and far afield in similarity of taste, as what it might run into. But for a non-edges entree: I realize that all this is traditional Easter turned on its ear, like a cob of corn?
In the age-old battle, ham versus turkey, you could use a bit of that leftover sauce From Above, and mix in all kinds of veggies such as green pepper bits, chosen as it fits more kinds of meat that can even include pork. And coming down to a lesser-attended gathering, to start a respect for social distancing, as has been the case (??) with all the After Midnight hangers-on, in a backyard or back woods to be a supplement to PepperFest, you can still in many but not all stores get a tin with ham that is in foil, such as mother used and now finally has the Interent, and has posted (sorta). In this sorta way, if your gathering is small, like many these days, and you don’t need the whole huge ham hock … But back to the mothers, she boasts her recipe on not .com but .mom. And leftover from, referencing it again, the unspoken for cabbage, to those who will speak its praises about braised, if used right, the cole slaw that can be stretched from the dressing — and isn’t that all we eat if for? — to start with mayo or just plain salad dressing, and in this case the quality difference becomes scant. Mix in white sugar and perhaps a bit of vegetable oil and you have it. And the celery people have put in their plug. Sauce or substance? So, carrot slivers or half-coins, finely sliced green peppers and such-cut broccali, and there again you have a three chord wonder. Red cabbage too, but for purposes on the analogy, but basic to the title of ingredient. And it can find into play sweet onion. All flowing from the St. Patrick’s Day veggies you thought you might not have any use for. And? Sweet and sour sauce. A very little bit.
But give ham some love too, if sprinkled into the mix in very small ways. Ham is feeling left-out from the mix of the poultry. Like a hog in a dairy farm here in Wisconsin. Sprinkle cheese on, or maybe just sauce on the side with a few dabs of mustard — virtually any kind will do.
Though Christians have their Holy Week, for Jewish people it is a roughly two week party, if that is what you call it among the Orthodox. Their theology is very expansive and specific, but hey, these days it’s kinda fashionable to embrace it. So if you have any kind of that school of thought, here’s what you can cook to be at least partially inclusive involving the Seder, and most people these days know just a bit about the Jewish rite. Melba toast or other thickened cracker, lamb that adds mint (a goodly percentage of the central Wisconsin leadout) and coconut slices (lesser still in my non-southern state), radish beyond horseradish for bitters, chopped apple and nut and carmel mix cooked together while in thirds of each … you get the picture. To be truly kosher, obain a book that walks and prays you through the Seder, and most can be found at your local church and could be borrowed if they are not participating in it themselves with a special dinner, that could be cut short and virtual, although still spiritual, because of social distancing. The full Seder runs about as long as the holiday-ish movies like danes With Wolves and Ghandi, so you can abbreviate it if the kids can’t wait for the accompanying egg search at the end of the Seder and still observe it. This can be a dance (of joy) as is known by my friend Kevin who is a retired pastor, and has a wonderful wife who is full-on kosher Jewish. Over many years of marriage, Kevin has concluded how to look for such tiny designations, there are more than one on an applicable box, and see if it like some mustards cut muster. These are available at most stores and even WalMart, but you have to know what those tiny icons mean.
And lastly for those eggs for the hunt — and although this being Wisconsin, we are not talking about Bambi — consider those made in the special Ukranian style as a centuries-old tradition that is now carried forward in churches in Hudson and Stillwater. They are totally decked out in what has an art-base that resembles strongly what you see in the Vatican, but fragile enough so that it may be better for the adults, or at least those who are older chiming in so they are not dropped and broken. But this is a holiday of hope and forgiveness (read elsewhere on these pages closer to Easter), so don’t walk on eggs shells over it, or fret if they break and you step or trod on them. You will not be Buried in a Nameless Grave.
With that reference to an Ozzy song, with more lyrics that involve the religious observations to follow soon on these pages, we must now jump briefly to March Madness, since its now the start of April, but the games go on. First noticed this taking over people’s behavior in mid-March, when a man walked up to the counter at Buffalo Wild Wings and asked if the Florida game could be turned on the above screen. Certainly, the server said, and you can lay claim to some of the other TVs also. But maybe this enthusiasm was a curse, as his team was upset by a squad that was barely ranked.
And there were other upsets too, or once that blew out in the final minute of the game. Ask my friend Mike, who is like a walking encyclopedia on these things and being Old School just needs his TV time for them, and couldn’t wait for the Final Four to play out, so he could regele other new fans with new thoughts about the whole deal. He doesn’t hit the video poker machines though, so getting game on is his New Deal. Which can be problematic, because he is a stickler about avoiding situations that could be virus-laden. But this is not his first rodeo with the NCAA tournament, although it should be noted that it was that bronco-busting sport, and maybe NASCAR, that were the last ones to linger with decisions about attendance shutdowns at their contests. A common thread could be seen in the gusto of their fan base. Do we see a theme here?
But then there are those Vikings, and this coming year will be different then all the rest, maybe, with the just-announced, expanded regular season that is the antithesis of the usual scaling back we’ve encountered. More opps to show your chops. To that end, on a walk to the local sports bar, what was the first set of flowers I saw to blossom in the median? Big with lots of purple pedals.And then there are those Gophers. A main man in their basketball lineup goes by the name Kalscheur, which is not a common one, but is shared by an older women from across the river in Hudson. Could she be his mom? Very unlikely when it concerns Sr. Bernadette. Yes as in sister. As in nun. But sadly she has passed on. At this time of year, we remember all your pastoral contributions, Sr. Bernadette, to people from all walks of life.

Whether at bar and grills, convenience stores, the UPS Store, or even WalMart, this is all a recap of how we got here with the virus — and perhaps a glimpse of where we are going.
And at Micklesen Drug store, the hours soon got much longer, up to 16 a day (on almost all of them and growing). This was the first time I can remember their main men not smiling at a bad joke, and just seeming all out stressed. I have not seen one of them behind the counter for weeks, should I be worried? And now that the vaccine(s) are out there, and even before this was rolled out, the call for such services rose by 30 a day. People too were trying to hoard their prescriptions like some used to do food, or drink, and still probably do if they have the means, just in case there would be a huge supply lag.
The signs soon appeared on bar doors, too, saying that you needed a mask to come in, but also as some caught up to speed faster then others, it seemed, that provisions were added. We will still serve you and by law not ask if you have an underlying medical conditions such as asthma that kept a mask off your face, many read almost as one and the slight variations likely did not come from the health departments. But the signs and their lingo a few months later drifted away and the doors were back to sporting just glass and hours of operation, which dwindled away from the all-night stores shifting to an early evening closure, then reverting back again, to a large degree, in late fall.
Doors also stated capacity, anywhere from just under one hundred at Hop and Barrel, to close to three times that at County Market, which rolled out the rules far more than almost any of the bars, and enforced them to a much larger degree. The Smilin’ Moose was a notable example among that crowd when it came to enforcement, but there of course was the gray area of how to eat and drink with them on. Slide them up from the bottom was often the recourse, and there were many workers who would chastise you if your nose was spared from cloth — especially early on. But eventually, even bartenders in many spots stopped donning the masks, although for retail clerks it was another story. And some of them, if you were a regular wouldn’t give you the business, especially if you just plain forgot it at home, even if it was time after time.(I soon started feeling like Zorro, when I had my jacket collar pulled way on up, although I am not sure how apt that reference is). And after all, there was that one lady of the evening, sorry about the bad pun, behind a counter as a clerk who — gasp! — was seen without any such covering. And at Green Mill, despite social distancing reminders on the counter spaced, with every other chair, all the regulars would congregate on the south end, with how far that way depending on the amount of consumer traffic coming through the door, on which like many such places also had a creative piece of quasi-art and stick figures shown to drive home the point.
And these days, it may come down to counting your pennies. And how that applies, like so many things these days, seems to depend on when the bad-bacteria day is. I have noticed on my walks to Kwik Trip in North Hudson — hey we all have to get our exercise as we can find it — there can be quarter on the ground as my military in-laws have always been trained, as if being wary of a mine field, to look down as you walk. Pick it up? Or want to wait and see if it is still there after you shop, as you can’t wait to grab t. At first as people had needs that were off the charts, and hadn’t adjusted to them yet, they would scarf it up just like that. A bit later to counter, that same nickel might be there not only when you entered but when you exited. And as need took hold and people had to adapt, I will say this: We don’t have a lot of huge value to take, but when the virus first hit home and the economy faltered and unemployment was off the (economists) charts, I came home late and stumbled onto a man who had entered my garage, then bolted as the car was being parked. He left in a hurry when encountering me, bolting back to the woods in back like so many meth makers have done, so I went back there to ask him what motivated him to do this. But he was long gone. I don’t think this was a professional burglar as he appeared to be scared silly by my brazenness and never returned to see what he could grab. Just a man pushed to his limits by need, for as I have said to some people in law enforcement and did not get rave reviews, hey if you haven’t eaten for a week you will likely steal a loaf of bread. Don’t chop off his or her hands based on this need for self-preservation, like in some societies. That could be a virus entry point.
All starts at WalMart. When the grand toilet paper caper began, it was here that the shortage was front and center at Sam Walton’s brainchild. Only he could not dictate, and overcome, their supply to the market considerations that were brought to the fore for the reason that was given at the time — some of the paper products were, possibly, made in countries where the virus had already gained a great big foothold. Any thing to use like that in your bathroom flew off the shelves almost instantly when shit hit the fan — sorry — earlier that day. My wife gave me stern orders to go get what I could just a couple of hours before that, and I thought she was making too much of it, but then when I got to WalMart there nary a box to be found. People had literally been pulling them off the truck when it arrived and the worker was striving to haul it out of the parking lot, I was told.
And so there was no TP be found, on most days, and even tissue paper and paper towels became substitutes, with on their shelves all that was left to be purchased were a few oddball stragglers. The disinfectants also were flying off the shelf, with even things as substitutes that were as far reaching as toilet bowl cleaner being so in demand that they too were hard to be located. And even today, at Perkins, you can still see two and one, which become three, of the disinfectant containers as big as the maple syrup dispensers, (there’s that word again), all in the vicinity of the cash register. When there was a supply on hand, most stores were limiting the purchase of toilet paper and even tissues to one per customer — and I don’t know how it would play out if you made multiple trips in a day — and some like the Freedom store in North Hudson enforced that rule with their signs right beside the price tag for things such as Charmin, but there was an ace in the hole for consumers in that if you were willing to settle, there was no limit on the Scott brand. So that meant it became short in supply too. And down the road at Kwik Trip there was a set of big hanging baskets, one of which had candy and was close to being full, and the other labeled for disinfectant, but it was typically bought out.
Back at WalMart, the entryway was retooled with use of what was almost like a police, no-cross line to take you in a short loop into the main area so you would pass by workers who were like light-duty, kinder and gentler mask police. On the way back out, for a couple of weeks, there was one sign that said help out as you can with wearing of masks gently encouraged, then 10 feet later another placard that said more sternly, there was no way you could be in there without facial covering. They at first saw a market niche by selling for a few bucks the masks you would need, a full 60 feet into the store, and you would have to buy three at a time in a pack. Like many, they soon redacted and offered them to customers for free. A curiosity, and not a bad idea, was to have the aisles be designated what was essentially a series of one-way streets, to keep people from crossing paths going this way and that, and create a scenario where they would not breath on each other.
There were a whole series of ways that checkout places in stores sought to aid social distancing, with some leaving a literal yellow footprint at six-foot intervals as a guide — although it was clear when setting these things up, that there was use of a tape measure to ensure down-to-the-inch accuracy. Big plastic shields went up by the cash registers, and at places like the USP store, there were small boxes that require people to stand right there while waiting in line. Pity the fool who is bigger than average. At some junctures there were whole bigger boxes of these directions, written on the floor and cordoned off with rope-like tape, ranging left and right and forward and one step back, then two steps back.Those being big, six-foot-in-length steps. And on all sides at a set of convenience stores, there continued to remain on the doors signs for their sale of 79 cent sodas — even though such self-service fountain drinks were barred from being sold for many seeks. Lastly, there did seem to be a bit of wiggle room at some very specific points, as rules were relaxed then put back in at full-strength, for things such as selling donuts when handled with plastic sheets — now not just a guideline that has always been there, but now the law. And for all those light cardboard boxes of donuts that can be seen at prominent places in the checkout lane, right beside the disinfectant, one has to wonder if the presence of their folds makes them non-air-tight.