Or slide some soprano or salsa or swing into your song set, as you’ll want to do more than one, since in music it’s the more the merrier.
Yes, Bungalow Idol is going all in again, back in full force for singers all this month, and this is not your father’s karaoke contest, or your mom’s melodies. Although you’re likely to see classic rock and country and even a show tune or two performed at this Vital Idol karaoke competition. And more at this year’s installment of the long-running set of shows, at which you can compete.
And granted, as far as what you’ll be going up against, this competition has what you’d expect to hear as far as the karaoke classics being crooned, but it in a more diverse way here often has a harder edge. You could come listen, not only sing, to Shinedown as well as Sheryl Crow, with Kid Rock. So country also stakes its claim.
So if you think you’ve got the goods, there are still qualifying rounds with singers advancing the next two Fridays, and then the prizes will be bestowed the first Friday in February. You can begin by throwing your hat in the ring at the pristine Lakeland club, the Bungalow Inn, just shy of 9 p.m. So don’t be Twice Shy.
Speaking of twice, we will double down with the tunes at the Willow River Inn in Burkhardt, also referencing Friday night. Then it is Burning Daylight (taking the stage a few hours after sunset) following up on Double Take, last weekend’s gig by another somewhat newer band to the area. But this Friday’s band that burns with classic music covers has been around for more than just a few days — they’ve been rockin’ for enough years to have heard their artists perform onstage early-on, then emulate. That’s quite unlike another band by the same name, just now playing on the other end of The States, that’s a bunch of young guns just getting going.

This is more about my cold, cold heart and how it has turned blue (banners aside):

The snowy season has brought with it a change in pace as far as holiday decorating downtown in Hudson. While the cool and newer and more prevalent big ornaments on the light poles didn’t last, as they were taken down soon after New Years, the fully ablaze Lakefront Park, more than two blocks running sideways, still has a holiday light for virtually every twig on every tree — and let me tell you, there are a lot of them. But the display gets shut off before bar time.
Hey, you can’t have it all, as it takes bucks to run those bulbs. Ask the folks who — to their credit still have kept doing their big front yard that’s fully decked out with lights — found it necessary to ask the city for a permit to sell fireworks in summer to help pay the big electric bill in winter, and had a fight on their hands. All has been resolved (apparently?) as their are still bright lights in that part of our bigger city, as this had become, while traveling the freeway, a lighthouse-like beacon beckoning holiday travelers to slide their eyes to the side and behold.
(But those holiday ornaments on light poles, and some of them could have been called Big Balls, have been replaced with numerous tapestry-type banners promoting something again, really cool, the Hudson Hot Air Affair in early February with its theme Rockin’ With The Coldies.)
I also spied a sparkly snowman up high, frozen in place in the left-side window of a second-story, brick-facade-offered-otherwise, apartment in mid-downtown — just above one of those balloon affair banners.
A hockey-rink-length away, Season’s Gallery had hawked its winter sale, by using a whole white sheet that fully covered one of its four big windows, then the next day reduced it to just a two-foot-high strip mid-window that put on full display all the cool art items behind.
Speaking of hockey and its rinks — one but is there a second one? — there is an outdoor variety in New Richmond that now has, finally, been fully re-introduced and re-made since temps are now below freezing. But what about the equal-in-size space next to it that is only half iced over? Is it a rink waiting to be made ready, or simply a lot for your rigs.
And in a like manner, if you get my drift, we wonder if this has been used yet … New Richmond has again placed big plastic bags over its fire hydrants, to protect them from snow and such. But this has been scarce and sparse. So could the hydrants be used for another, even higher purpose?

Winter is finally in almost-mid-January here — in what already is a 72-hour (now 96 and still counting) wind-and-snow-shot — and not just this writer, fittingly named Joe Winter, as those few hardy people who have gone to the local watering holes with their now-frozen H2O, have been scrambling to their cars to get their forgotten-as-if-this-is-months-earlier coats in the midst of quaffing their beers. In this The Land Of Ice Cold Waters!
But it you know where to go here in Hudson, you will still find sports fans and slippery sidewalk stumblers …

We take, in reverse chronological order, as my fingers are frozen (as if that matters). More pertinent might be the roar of spinning-on-ice tires from the parking lot of the nightclub nextdoor. But first …
The sign says it all, come Sunday: The Arcana Apothecary is closed (today). Witch Ball class continues. Nearby, two different Hudson Hot Air Affair flyers, to their tune of Rockin’ With The Coldies, were seen in a single ice-tinged doorway, for of all things a bike shop, to promote the event that celebrates our frigid. But a counterpoint, an older couple were seen walking hand in hand, one of them gloved and the other not. Like you might see one laying, singlely, outside a bar. The other may have been holding a beer, (as it takes more than a bitter Wisconsin winter to make alcohol freeze. Usually.)

— My friend Jennifer said that although not a perfect game, she saw at the Hudson Bowling Center the Green Bay win over warm-weather-wanting Dallas, and how many times did she razz her homie friend, a Cowboy fan? At least 15! That’s a full two touchdowns-worth, plus two-point conversion for an exclamation point. To the point that the friend, backing the usually stoic Dallas team, begged her to stop. So bow your 10-gallon hat, as the Dallas divisional level playoff drought continues. (See more below where starred.) —

But then late Saturday night, there was Dick’s Bar and Grill and their several cars parked in front amidst small and spotty snowbanks, and it lately has been back to old days and resurgent as far as volume of customer traffic, apparently the town’s again hot spot as things always evolve. The DJ mix? “And three times more (it was last weekend), three times I tried to be with you …” And they were last week, especially. Their crowd was that much bigger that three-day period, said a longtime bouncer.
“People talk s— about us, but here we are.” Both life and the bar business are not a sprint, but a marathon, I agreed. A patron laughingly teased about him saying “overweight,” which he denied, and then (both) looked at me and I was told to just agree, bringing more chuckles from all three of us. Then there came the debate about when is the start of Black History Month, and even more respect? (It’s Feb. 1, so check out the scene then.)
Overall, it had an urban and not as much cowboy vibe. And on the steps leading outside …
“He forgot his coat,” said a pale young woman. “He’s figured out he brought it in,” added another. So there’s no need to run to Target and buy one. Oh wait, they’re closed right now.
Then earlier in the eve, as a trio whipped around the corner past The Agave in the whipping wind: “I gotta run fast without my coat,” said a young woman to me, moving rapidly. “Hey big bro,” added a guy who also appeared to know me. “Hallaluia,” said a third.
I could see my breathe on the way back, more easily than any time since last February. And there was a big, black flapping plastic tarp on the back side of the Smilin’ Moose, with a moderate number of people inside.

In the intro to the storm …
Closing in on midnight on Friday, there was a 100-yard stretch on the main drag with just one car, and none were parked in front of Ziggy’s — likewise, there were only that many in the full-block area of the Moose — but Z was the place I wanted to check before off-sale ended at 12, and things would be shutting down on the lower level.
So off to Hudson Tap. The one bartender left on duty framed it, “We were good for the game, but after that …” (That game was only Chiefs vs. Dolphins).
For the middle of the walk downtown I was out of the wind, because the buildings were at least two-story and facing west, but on the south end and its battle to get inside, a guy was talking about a yet-different long haul, the workout that is his relationship. As he closed a drawn-out sentence, a tall guy conducted his own workout, sprinting by in only shirtsleeves, rishing across the wide street of at least two lanes.
But inside The Tap, there sat at the long bar, with others soon joining, a few Flyers fans and a Kings fan, on this Kirill K’s night of return from injury to NHL hockey. The guy lauding LA, which once had a player from Hudson, said mistakenly, that it’s too cold to walk to Jonesy’s, which is way up the hill. It quickly became certain he meant to The Moose, which makes for long blocks, but only two of them.

A straight-shot north …
The Green Bay-and-its-frozen-tundra-based Associated Bank (I almost said US Bank as that is/becomes basically universal) revealed, midstream, on its handy-dandy, 800-number hotline that there may be delays talking to a customer service agent for … why? Inclement weather! (Love that “I” word). Even though on the phone, not at a blizzard-ridden branch! Two thoughts: Is not the actual frozen tundra hundreds and hundreds of miles north? (John Madden rolls over in his grave.) Otherwise to say, is there not a US Bank Stadium in (neighboring) Minneapolis, also hit by storm? I do believe they’re (still) in the playoffs, too.

*** But at least on Sunday eve there is the wild-card playoff game of the Pack to rack up business at the many state sports bars — those who braved the cold saw a flurry of points by Green Bay to handily defeat Dallas, who although supposed to be tough could not handle the predicted single digits in their state, 48-32 — even though temps were supposed to remain hovering around, and I’m afraid mostly well below, Ice Bowl-doing-in-Dallas-style zero here the whole day before. The temperature is currently, as I’m writing this update, 8 degrees below at the dawn of a new Monday, as Cowboys still cowered. A bartender friend said early in this onslaught that the wind chills were supposed on max out at 30 below. I think she was being as far generous with that figure, as a slim-figured server who’s topping off the booze in the drink of a favorite customer, to the point that even a tough Texan might be tipsy.
And for Dallas, my niece who spend her whole childhood in Wisconsin and trudged through waist high, as she’s short, snow while attending UW-Madison and now has moved to Austin, has had the last laugh, as those Texans might as well be wearing tiny hats, not the Tory bowlers, as their state shut down — like the Dallas defense — when temps dropped only to the freezing level. Those “ten-galloners” bowed their hats down to a second “quarter” of 20 points. So tip a “pint” as Green Bay Does Dallas, who is drowning in their tall premium beer.
In my dad’s nursing home, they were wheeled off to a Dallas dinner just prior to halftime, so he got to see all of those 20 points. Mom hadn’t noticed that the intermission activities were on not offenses, “the players tried to take the field but the marching band refused to yield.” Staff were stressed to get the meal and clean-up done so the residents would not have to miss very much of the third quarter, as for some, the dining room TV was in the far (hind?) end and they were essentially back bleacher bums.

“Down south” in Milwaukee, where the Pack used to play …
This could be called a lower-key blizzard emergency, 260 miles southeast of my Hudson that was by comparison quite balmy, as it’s still early in this until-now, precipitation-less season, without the also-necessary fury of snow, when it’s wind-driven.
The song Rime of the Ancient Mariner had it rite (intentional spelling) when their protagonist traveled, likewise but also conversely in direction taken, “north until all is calm.” Then the boat was stuck in its place, since they needed the roar of wind power, which could wreck their ship but also allow them to sail along. But thus it was in reverse … The wind power, when not windmills doing beneficial generating, can seek and destroy.
But my non-metal mom still ended up staying at the nursing home, with blanket and pillow on the couch, and dad, as she can’t get the car out of the garage because of the power failures, that are rampant and effect the door opener, and this keeps on racheting up. (Once back inside and the service finally came back on, those inside lights had ended up staying in their “on” position for about those, again, 72 hours.) My cool and encumbered bro managed to — get her back into her condo later — but for now give her a lift to “the facility,” as we in the family have come to call it. And the facility is not a power plant, but it apparently has its own generator.
Both for a couple of days have had electricity out, even though in the midst a daughter had to stay the night with him and also move a bit of stuff into his house, and forget running the stove — just fireplace — as its been out for a couple of days running. As long as there still is water running in non-frozen pipes, my mom’s concern, and she would call her also-cool neighbors to check, but their cell phones and cable are also out.
With generator, partly, my bro kept the sump pump going, oddly, but at least that would keep any slushy snow/water, as has at times been their lately case, out of the basement. With people shoveling, literally, the snow off the tops of their too-tall SUVs while standing in the slush, all so they could venture out on black-ice roads. Might not want to go to that Vanilla Ice or black metal concert.
And you thought it to be bad up here in the frozen tundra!

Methinks this may be the new torrid tagging. Hey, grafitti can actually be a bit of a good gig, and not just gonzo — ask Simon and Garfunkle and their lyrics about the words of the prophets written on the subway walls and tentament halls — given their right platform and placement on it. And we have seen such locally, and especially in the last few weeks. Things got started down in River Falls, near music clubs, with the promos for some alt bands, with their insignias.
The trend newly minted, is when people place posters of index-card-size on a power pole, or that propping up a street sign, sticking on/to their message via stickum. 3M thus disavows. Although people continue to post it.
Just a different mechanism. Similar messages, as when my friend yesterday noted that the lettered images tagged on the many sides of railroad cars that streamed past as we sat placid at — a flashing red crossing signal — were indeed beautiful, or when I first saw all those colorful and cool cartoon characters painted all along the dike road leading into the St. Croix River. (Just don’t tell the past parks and rec director.)
One sticker that stood out for me, set just a nod to north of two downtown Hudson bars, could be seen as contradictory, if not quite controversial. It at length calls for all gang activity to just go away, then adds, “police not welcome.” After about a month, the sign had been taken down, but again, the stickum remains dark brown against lighter brown, to this day. With pole position by many-shades-of-multi-ethnic Rage Against The Machine? And Ziggy’s enters in with their stickers that say to support local and live music, and police too, that are plastered everywhere within their block.

— News break: I love the Hudson Hot Air Affair this year more than ever because given the nature of my website, this affair is all about … music! A marriage made in heavenly tunes. On this the coldest night (Thursday) of the new winter, there is a launch party with this year’s theme, Rockin’ With The Coldies, at Ziggy’s Hudson. Tim Sigler and his expanded country-based act is upstairs 8-11 p.m. and Tim Grady is on the sing-along piano on the level Down Under, if you hurry on down there. See a much expanded promo of the Hot Air Affair, which takes place the whole first weekend of February, later on this website. —

— Hey, did it start here? On a (single) intersection next to a bunch of fast food and grocery and convenience stores, there were posted numerous stickers on the back of stop signs saying “Drive now, text later.” (Don’t assign and post the stickers while doing those other two aforementioned activities.) Was the DOT behind this, as the same message is on their many glowing standalone marquee signs along the freeway? Or was this a grafitti artist with a message that matters?
At the next place where streets collide — OK this is just a parking like with like stores all around — there where no such insignias. I guess going at crawling speed as you approach an actual intersection doesn’t count. So forego the headset here?
On the back of one last sign and its pole were a code for construction workers — and I don’t want to get religious again but here I go — that used three numerals that when combined spelled out seven total. Get it you numerology freaks? And with the DOT, there was a truck parked nextdoor that had yet another code, text me about “how I’m driving.” (Even though the parked vehicle was not in motion.) The code consisted of six digits — is there a theme here? — in total. These could be a lot of calls to keep track of. —

It seemed just, right and salutary to write this post on (the debacle that was) Jan. 6.
Nearby, and also contoversial, was a sign with an image of someone who looked like Stalin, or Lenin, adding a big gray beard, with its left side sheen worn away. I think that when the missing letters are added, it spells out Communism. Get Organized. Followed by what’s illustrating either a letter T or a pistol, or a combo, then Revolution.
At the nearest stage, the Friday night band pounded out Nothing Changes On New Year’s Day, by U2. TGIF.
Up the way, pasted on the back of a stop-sign-like-light-signal, reads something like this, listed at eye level as a dot.com. Where is Jack? Was Jack Here? Or, you don’t know Jack.”
Seems odd that I then looked up and saw, a newly placed and fully lit plastic sidewalk snowman.
In response to people who have messaged me with various questions, and described the desire to fully subscribe, please hang in there as that option/button is being added very soon. For sure before the next new year. I could be coy and convey that good things happen to those who wait, and patience is a virtue when it comes to publishing, and not just print. Until then, you can reach me, Mr. NonTechno — and that’s a clue for you questioners — at joewint52@gmail.com.

We start. On my ode to the lighthearted, “Wise Men and How I could never make their journey to the manger,” which drew many comments including one from “Galilee.” In retrospect I was illustrating how epic and important this quest was. And much, much more quickly than I’d make it through that desert. In terms of years … Decades … Centuries …
And I return to, oh those omnipresent Agave Kitchen nacho-nushing signs. It says: Turn those gift cards into nachos. So (you’ll need to) create corn crumbles. Then later, Santa doesn’t want cookies, he wants nachos. Like so many of us.
I saw, on what had been my Halloween walk, as in a runner-on sentence: Many “Christmas strawberries” on a side-street otherwise bit gnarly mural, still more roofing projects and again such work (big pink houses done by orange-clad workers) at the Phipps Inn in the massive DIY spirit that got us swimmingly through the pandemic, new red and orange and a little of pinkish berries on a sprig of bushes that are like mistletoe, a Me And My Old Lady Sitting In The Shade-type scene of a winter sun shining on such a porch (a main one back-to-back then another back-to-back), and all that cool and naturalish-looking brush and bush making for a front yard that’s now chopped away with many a stone kept and bird houses too, (though not nesting season.)
On the porch of that old house just down from the pink Barbie House — where Ken lives as a senior? — there’s now a RWB flag amongst RWB poppies sitting in front of a red Santa sign.
A block away, a blue mesh fabric falling all around has in its middle a couple of even more beautiful RWB pinwheels.
And that angling fence, going up a hill, alongside which a remembrance sign with flowers was placed in autumn. It has now not fallen, but been fully straightened.
At Cornerstone Church, that line for donated food recently extended much longer, almost a block, and that was not at the offering’s opening. It should be noted that after Christmas, there was a lesser turnout, as Santa and/or God must have given.
That Christmas tree I described with sealer setting aside, along with a (prayer) book: It was there until the very end of 2023, then removed. Mistetoe remained.
When tuning in the TV news when back from the holiday, it was shown to be, as I have already written, just how much need there is everywhere in our world. A delivery guy shoots down so many lives, then guns for more. California farmers are without any water. Only now, finally, can felons reform their lives and get a college degree. Crackerbarrel donates 800 boxes of food to a shelf, but that’s only about one percent of the need.
At the cusp of the new year, the ground was sprinkled with silvery frost, much like the hair of that looking-older Ken to his Barbie.
I saw that morning the parking guy, and the Happy New Year wishes were shared, as the old year had just passed like an expired meter. Who had the worst joke? Who trumped who? “Why is Santa so jolly. He knows where all the naughty girls live.” Touche, he said. He better drop some pounds if he wants to ride their sleigh.
So, another “daylight in the swamp” joke. However, this can be quite serious. If you are a Toadie. But this is a survival story. How do they find a way to burrow in the mud and sleep silently at this time of year. Renewal in the dirt.

Here we go, blow by blow. How do the new meet the older old?
As I left the Buena Vista apartments, at the corner of Vine and Second streets, before I even noticed the lingering white snow interspersed with grass of Christmas green, I saw the omnipresent pulling-over cop with flashing red and white and blue lights in a parking lot far, far away — OK actually just a bit more than a block. This is NYE, so there likely was a reason, although maybe not a real good one.
After taking only a few more steps, I couldn’t help but see a half-block ahead a good dozen partiers leaving, after living it up, the Smilin’ Moose. I had to stop for a few moments to let several more people pass, and immediately saw the first bare midriff of the night, (am I obssessed with abs?) That main crew soon broke up and went to separate parking lots to then return home, to the Cities I’m guessing — even though it was only 15 minutes into 2024.
But before, there was a bit of bitching from the babes, but it was bitchin’ indeed. The guy(s) they were with, or who were standing next to them, at year-turning-time only gave them a kiss on the cheek and/or forehead, and it was unclear whether they’d indeed wanted it to be more or less, as in not at all. But no tongue, the champagne from the toast had not sunk in yet.
Over at Hudson Tap, there was again bartenders mimicking bartenders, both having silvery sparkling disco-like pants and matching each others short on-the-bottom and strappy on-the-top tops. One also had the newer in-vogue tied up balls, ping-pong-like, of hair on top, but not at the upper corners of the head, but balled nearly together in a marriage in the middle.
Dick’s too was (newly?) packed. A guy followed me toward the entrance and asked, noting the bar’s name, if it was a gay club. I assured him, decided, that it is not. (Ask the blonde woman I talked to, wearing some of the glitz that was oddly rare this evening, who talked to me at length while spilling her popcorn. I’d shot back that on this very festive night she should feel free to take a second big bowl — actually I said this well before those corns hit the floor.) And where was The Little Black Dress and heels, too. Saw some of that the previous night, moreso.
Outside, there were patches of gritty stuff poured out in places on the sidewalk — to cover either ice or, on this night, you know …
But the Dick’s experience put a cap, like a Santa hat but not really, on the night as far as who I saw. Used to be dozens, but not quite a dozen, on this night. It had been a time when you’d see scores of people, as many as the different kinds of music scores, who made sure they got out and about, if only on this eve. The new guard replacing the old guard, which has largely gone. They still show once in a while even after the pandemic, but are still virus and occasionally vile-patron-as-villian guarded. There are a few people who I was sure would score on the scene, likely early rather than late as all being of that age, despite this new scenario, but there were not here.

But then there was the next day. New Year’s Day. Sitting on the sidewalk outside The Smilin’ Moose was a whole bunch of ice chunks, a b arrel full, apparently poured out there at the end of the night’s revelry. There also were some things that looked like lemon slices, but they were actually gold pieces of shiny confetti! All around the ‘walk.
A block up, again chronological order, a party hat from The Eve was sitting even in the spot farthest between night spots. And it was set upsidedown.
Would some of the previous night’s revelry haunts be open for business, this being New Year’s Day? There were, in the parking lot of Ziggy’s, a trio of cars, but were they just parked there from patrons still hogging the space from the night before? Three more people approached the door and were able to enter. Question answered. (This venue is known for having the sign on their interior-even door, saying that they are open, but that door is closed because hey, it’s cold outside, and we’re conserving heat. Some of the chefs might tell you it would be great to bottle some of that, strike that, use it now in the dead of winter rather then have it bake even further in their often torrid kitchen in summer.)
Hudson Tap used The Day to open at their earliest time of any of the seven days of the week, 11 a.m., and stay open until 1 a.m., the latest closing time of any they have except weekends. And this dear reader, if it need be noted, is a Monday, when even Sunday’s time can be fickle.

A last tale from the crypt, and this could be a bit cryptic. On The Eve, the Dick’s bartenders were wearing shirt and prominent tie, and apron over the top, which I’d not seen before there, maybe because of a few directives from Those On High. In over a decade of noticing, I’d never seen Chad on a shimmery sheened button-down shirt! Like something Charlie Sheen might sport just for NYE, to best his other one-and-a-half-men?

This holiday that is on the heals of another merges their visual appeal.
Start with dad. And not him shaving, God forbid, as we are still trying to get him another special funky electrical one that is deemed safer. (The old one shorted out. Santa didn’t deliver. At least not yet/this year.) His nursing home aide wore oversize Santa and such sparkling glasses — no doubt inspired by a co-worker who on one Eve wore a Nice hat, then the Next Morn, Day And Night (pulling a double?) a Naughty hat — that was maybe more fitting for not the 24th, but the 31st.
On the TV was a reindeer documentary, and it was noted that they, and the reindeer games they play that continue on (see below), are quite motly and even ugly creatures, with big hair here and little there, but such covering their noses. And as mischievious, with their nibblings across the fence, as an elf, who is going a bit postal because of too much overtime.
Or to mash three TV bits together, as an orangetan stealing an ornament from a snowy owl?
Then a commercial, or was it actually a puff piece? WE Energies has built two 12-million gallon tanks so they can buy up natural gas when it is at its cheapest and stockpile it, rather then purchase it at market — and that often means high — rates in the dead of winter. Can this help fuel the need to run all those holiday yard displays? (OK maybe not so much a puff piece.)
What would a holiday be like without flags, and not just of countries. Constantly rolled out there sports teams among their tapestries hanging from mailbox posts. I didn’t know pro pigskin’s Pittsburg still used/waved their steel curtain of of Terrible Towels. Steeler’s Wheel of time?
And to lead into our now unfolding next holiday, all those (bitcoin?) bits of glitzy and decorative paper circles, the size of dimes, seen every few feet on the floor all across a nightspot or two, making me think that maybe I could gather enough for a bigger tip, but no. The only paper of such type that is more then uh huh, momentarily pretty, but monetary, is a twenty dollar bill. Or fifty in a more upscale club, such as the Twin Cities (exotic?) dance place a new friend works, The Seville — but just as a server mind you — as one of her three jobs, ying and yang and both. To reference what’s above, that’s more than a double.

This New Year’s Eve is a meeting of the minds and music and munching, and other mirth, that is in equal parts both old and even new. But the bands are tried and true.

Celebrate these good times for New Year’s Eve at the new 501 Tavern in North Hudson, the owners there say, and as they’ve already become known for, still have enough dough left over for that January money crunch time so you can buy bread until February, I say in a teasing way. Starting early at 4 p.m., get any two dinners, a bottle of any wine or champagne with a slice of chocolate cake for each of you … all for just $70. Ring in the New Year with them, for this first time around, they say, and they can’t wait. People a few years back had known that the previous venue at this location, Seasons Tavern, was known for their NYE extravaganza that in this case might have had Cake for music, but hey, try out this new tavern version!
And speaking of reasonable, The 501 will have their killer breakfast available — and patrons say try their said-to-be-great mimosa/bloodies too, as this is a day/night for revelry — on the morn of the eve also, just like they did over Christmas on the 24th! So a repeat on the 31st.
Another establishment is celebrating their first New Year’s, Louie’s, in the town of Hudson a few blocks west of the truck stop, just north of Interstate-94, in the former location of Paddy Ryan’s. They have quickly become known for their great baked, and more, take on fine dining, and cocktails, too. New Year’s Eve specials are: Lobster Risotto, featuring a full 9-ounce lobster tail, complete with a creamy parmesan risotto and grilled asparagus; and also Grilled Ribeye, a big 18-ounce bone-in ribeye, black truffle compound butter, wild mushroom risotto, and again, grilled asparagus.
And although it’s new, Louie’s is setting a standard, doing what few do these days, that being open for business on New Year’s Day.
The Bungalow Inn in Lakeland is a bit different having been around and established for years, and they are back in the driver’s seat with Sunday night’s return of the music show The Drive, starting at 9 p.m. (This accompanies a great food and drink selection, especially wines.) If you liked that band on Halloween, try out The Bungalow again! If you think you know them, they are versatile, as The Drive rolls on down the highway with hard driving rock from the ’70s and ’80s. Your commute to a smokin’ New Year’s — in part because their logo shows a cool highway-themed neon sign from back in that day — as the Bungalow provides a unique atmosphere to hear a band with their stage set-up and room for dancing.
And the Bungalow is open at 11 a.m. on New Year’s Day.
The GasLite in Ellsworth is offering their traditional and obviously popular New Year’s Eve, live music with the versatile band Coconut Tiger, which has also become popular at other venues across the area. But it got started with the GasLite. Their visual calling card is the blonde lead singer, who as I’ve written, bears a strong resemblence with both face and hair, and body shape and height, to a favorite bartender on the north end of things, and also my social-butterfly niece, and what’s new is that I’ve learned over the holidays that the latter is also a music fan, but with tastes far different than mine. I suggested that we do karaoke, but she was busy the night I pulled into Milwaukee, although she seemed intrigued. Maybe we could find common ground with tunes, later this weekend, over the music of Coconut Tiger? And maybe share breakfast the next day at the GasLite at 7 a.m.
Also with music, longtime local country legends Austin Healy hit The Emporium, coming back again onto the scene in a continuing way that makes one think of The Stones, also being on tour across states. And others. The venue with lots of bands could be thought of as Austin City Limits, being located at the Hudson city/town line. Near Louie’s. Fit both into your eve?
On the way this holiday falls — and this has been happening a lot in the last couple of years — those places that have the most live music, such as normally twice in a weekend, could now go full bore with bands as bookends to the usual two nights. Thus, is a four-day run of live music, as in full-on bands not just duos, that ends with Audio Circus, and as says my steely friend Dan who attends there a killer guitar show, as the year ends at Ziggy’s Hudson on the 31st. They got it rolling on Thursday evening. A buddy of mine who works at a liquor store across the street has off that whole time, plus Monday, though his store stays open until 9 p.m. throughout.

More on the holiday timings. When you are a Catholic …
If you go to St. Stephen’s in the Twin Cities, you still will have the same 6 p.m. service on The Eve, since it falls on a Sunday, and the next day there is the usual service that is held on The Day, since it is a Holy Day Of Obligation (or Opportunity, as a friend calls it), but she told me there is no service there much later on The Eve, even though it also is a HDOO. Too close together, I guess, so dispense? She said she will check with other churches.
One drug store, for example, on both the 24th and the 31st is closing at 2 p.m., rather than being closed all-together or pushing it off until later. Better munch on your holiday meal, depending on which one it is, quickly. And if you then need a weight loss pill … I did love the local gift-gathering opp that had taken donations for kids with needs all the way through the 24th.
Some libraries on Both Big Year-End Holidays closed on not only the Sunday and Monday, but also Saturday and even Friday. One area restaurant took off the Tuesday between, to carry forward even more the new trend to spend some added holiday time with your family,
The Minnesota Wild will have less time with their families and friends, then more, as they play Saturday around meal-time, then Sunday at 1 p.m., in a back-to-back with the Jets, then have off. But the Packers and Vikings — rather than the Jets of Aaron Rodgers — both go at it on New Year’s Eve at 7 p.m., and even venues offering nothing else in particular are still gearing up for that. Makes one yearn for the old Borderline Bar in Lakeland, and their Eve.
And the many other places, on the Wisconsin side but attracting many Minnesotans too, with not only the game, but then also deejays until 4 a.m., typically. Or even later, in the case of a few bars who still carry on that tradition.

— A (lowkey) preview of the night before New Year’s Eve.
A doorman outside the Smilin’ Moose, quickly said when asked, hardly anybody’s in here tonight. Prior to that comment, he told his fellow doorman that, “I hope you’ll feel better. Maybe if you get a drink of water …”
Here was part of the night’s non-standard jukebox mix at Hudson Tap: A song by Queen I’d never heard, known as I recognized Freddy Mercury’s voice; going back far further Gimme Shelter by the Stones; Highway To The Danger Zone and with the closer listen I heard a guitar flourish making me think of Motorhead; and back to Queen with Bohemian Rhapsody. Earlier there was something even more different, a song with much metal growl.
A fave bartender looked like she’d gotten cool Christmas presents, a big easily visible tattoo and killer nails. I told her, bringing a smile, “if a customer got too out of line, they could be daggers.” Then I accidentally gave her a bigger than my usual tip, another Christmas present.
On the way back, a man drew close to The Agave Kitchen wearing shorts, but a backpack, despite a trace of snow that had fallen. Earlier, I saw a guy in a T-shirt.
Last, didn’t have any word on the turnout at that day’s benefit at Jonesy’s Local, for Barbara Espy, a victim of the July boater accident over Hudson Booster Days. —

From the seat I sit on and compose, on Tuesday morning, I can still see four foot-wide white figures of celebration that include Santa swirling on an egg-shell-like-nog-painted wall, as I had spied on a garage door twice in the past two nights on the way to holiday gatherings.
So Christmas lives, at least another day and eve. As we went to this point …
Some things are simply, yet silly, and still a bit decorative. Like the big spray can of very all-purpose (useful around the holidays, like a gift-accessing-past-the-paper-as-in-wrapping multi-purpose exacto or bigger knife for those naive to opening) containing sealer, along with a small old-fashioned prayer book with a looks-like-wood cover, set in a circular tin with low rises and positioned next to a small Christmas tree.

— Might see some of that, but not all, at church. It was packed to the gills, and not just with angels, and as people exited, one woman said to her family, “where is the child?” Appropo. On the way over there, a silent solo bicyclist at night crossed in front of our car across a four-lane. His Christmas wish? Likely don’t get struck, like all those buck deer that have been out and about. Even church needed to put up a no-turn-lane sign at one spot.
Later, at the brother’s house, as he was my keeper for the night, there were a set of four candy canes set at quarters on his lawn’s decorative rock-patch, facing the four winds (there is more on that below.) One such pair of opposing canes also added whole lines of them going back across a large yard to a (gingerbread) house. Last, back at the nursing home, sat two tiny Santas the size of elves, and one great big stuffed one, greeting all who took their family members back for the night. Midway was a candied Christmas tree that was decked out much like a combo of gingerbread house and fruitcake, meeting with the Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters, and yes, do we notice that the two fall holidays actually have a lot in common? —

And then those Agave Kitchen marquee signs, paraphrased: Wrap up gift cards of all denominations, not our custom nachos, as that would be gnarly, (unless down on The Nachos Farm where they make the milk for the cheese); and seasonal sleigh parking for Santa only on our slightly slanted rooftop, (with first three hours free for Him only.)
That Northwest Wind blew not Santa off-course, but short and cold just prior to and during Christmas Down Under as in Down Here, meaning that a sign of a next-to-me business also known by that name, of Northwest, was whipped by wind, past a sidewalk and over into the edge of the street by its curb. That particular business has been in business since 1973, so I wonder how many times in those five decades a similar blowing-off by gust has been shown. And Santa? After completing his duties on Christmas Eve, and apparently taking a rest if not fully sleeping, he was laid to rest on his side by wind the next day, despite his girth that was even bigger than the actual version of he, due to being inflatable. Those puffed out sleeves would not save him, just like in my first-time-seen, TV viewing of The Christmas Story. (That brings up some more stories for a later post.)
Another thing deliciously warped. That one bleached pure-white-dyed sock dried just prior to the rush to get to church, had a hole in the toe, so it was tossed into the trash can as he loaded into the family van. It could have been a Xmas stocking stuffed with candy just after the kids had been scooted out the door. But one of a pair, of course. So what if you have a twin? My non-cooking except for grilling, and only meat not fajitas, nephew got a big-bag gag gift of ten-bean-soup to make, put into his. Is this what you end up finding in your holiday sock? I suggested the gathered-over-the-last-days-or-weeks-of 2023, old toenail clippings
As such aided by the aides, my dad now resides in a nursing home (see my post from over Thanksgiving.) As we pushed him along in his wheelchair in his not-so-big-room, we twice clipped the small (and as required fake) tree my brother had insisted he needed, spinning it around like it was a different holiday, that being Halloween.
Other sites were to be seen on the way to brother’s house. Like a fruit tree devoid of leaves, just having big gnarled buds, but also now sporting dozens of separate strings of cranberries, along with thick green wire, replacing the color missing leaves.
Threes are of course a thing this time of year. Two Santas were still standing despite the wind, and another laid on its side. A couple of the Santas were just huge, using up enough plastic to drown an ocean, like the photo cutline of mine as an old joke, St. Nick on the stick, needed to keep their again, girth propped up. The length of a reindeer’s leash away were some big balls, as ornaments mind you, this is not an AC/DC Christmas. There were some polar bears covering in plinkey lights, and two more facing opposite directions of a driveway, with such positioned candy canes also concocted. There is that star above a garage door that was going on and off, well timed with its seconds, and this was not a Chevy Chase moment, it was intentional.
The bottom line appears to be that where there are inflatable snowmen, as a starter, there are almost always other inflatables of various other creatures. You will know them by their snowmen!
But however, a mistake you do not want to make …I am all for diversity, and dark skinned Santas are fine, as we do and for the good see more and more in Hollywood. But you do not want a black snowman. This is snow, after all, and the only time it’s not white are the “snow boogers” alongside your tires, or the black ice beneath them.
I will close with by favorite yard-decoration of all. At the feet of a snowman (do they have these appendages?) and/or a Santa, there was this cool looking combo of sled/kiddie wagon/toy box. Made of plastic, yet again, but looked more like wood when lights shown on it. Could this be a Red Ryder? Or was that the aforementioned holiday movie’s theme? Or a Red Radio Flyer. Or with could go all the way back to Christmas in the time of Citizen Cane and invoke Rosebud, the famous sled.
Revel in whatever you got for Christmas and enjoy the rest of the holiday season! Joe.

And you thought traveling for Christmas across counties, countries or even continents, could be disconcerting.
What if it’s all or most of Asia? And maybe a bit of Africa?
I will let you in on a little secret, sorry Allison, that was conveyed and continued to build with her input while I was at fave Hudson nightspot trying to Hang Out and Turn Holy Water Into Wine, By The State Line, and sorry to rocker and lyrics author Billy Idol – can I even mention that last name in the season we are in? But hey, it was Jesus himself who did this initially, and it was not a mere musician’s trick, like said in The Ten Commandments movie about pharaoh’s asps being gobbled up like a holiday cheese ball – sorry to my family for inspiring that reference — by Moses’ staff-turned-snake, and I further refer to the hard secular songs Creeping Death and The Writing On The Wall. But I digress, and will spill more of the beans and not wine on that later. (And I could dive very deep into Crowley and his theology, so often occurring in songwriting even by the likes of – maybe – folksters Simon and Garfunkel, but for a later and altar post.)
So back a bit, I let it slip to bartender Allison, and I don’t know how this even came up in conversation, but with her doing her Energizer Bunny routine up and down the stairs – give this woman a raise! – my mind sprung to her activity level as compared to mine and I said: You know, if I was leading the caravan as one of the Three Wise Men, and I coached her on the distance across those multiple Old World countries they had to travel to get to the manger, and the time in years it took to follow The Star, and not a rock star, I myself would’ve first been pulling into Bethlehem in … oh about a half-hour from right now. Wait! Too long! Two-thousands years-plus! (To paraphrase Metallica.) Even once out of the arid acreage, no more shepherds alive to be seen, the short life span considerations of those days aside, much less their sheep.
She said, in her case, maybe even later. But it has been noted by other commentators, she as one of the Three Wise Women probably would have brought Christmas cookies too, and some crepes from France, curry croutons from wherever crossed, and a bottle of the Agave Kitchen cantina’s best to toast the Christ child – and have even asked directions around Yemen (as France, truth be told, was far afield). Or, as when my brother said to those boys assembled at the dinner table at a past Christmas, there are The Three Wise Men, and only one looked up …
OK, the jokes spun from there while at Agave. The Old Testament Methuselah, if traveling with me and despite his advanced age in hundreds of years, would have timed out and become deceased … I don’t think he would have even made it to the Red Sea. Herod Schmered. Pilate long since grounded.
But OK, Those Men In The Fold did travel, apparently, across the length of almost a thousand Israels. That’s a lot of long Arabian Nights. But why did it take so long? I, as always, have a theory.
They had to ride along the length of Persia, right? Some such Arab places did really value cleanliness … You never, ever extended a right hand in greeting, as you know what that one was used for … And camels are not known for their lack of waste. So …
I guess that even back in that day, there was a factor that might have really slowed them down, as there were not as many highway rest stops, as the same number of convenience stores. So with your caravan of camels, and there probably were backup carriers, you probably had to lug along a lotta porta potties behind. (You thought that picking up doggie do-do was bad; in the Third World you don’t have a voice in making most of the rules, and the pooper scooper had not yet been seen outside of say, China, no strike that reference. At least they had Frankensensce — but no crepes, and the Gold Standard would not come about until, say, the time of the Crusades.) But the point being, when porta potties get bogged down, they don’t pull very fast. So gee, maybe those shepherds were wondering why “we” had not yet shown … And the innkeeper with no room couldn’t help, he was not multilingual.
All kidding aside, hope you are not bogged down this holiday!!
And things are more blessed for you than in present-day Bethlehem!

Sometimes the best way to renew a former and popular place is to not re-invent the wheel, just keep it spinning with maybe a few new spokes, as a metaphor, and providing new bar and grill twists, such as adding a second big barrail, on the upper level as both of the tiers are used to best extent, and an open area with view of the downstairs retained.

Such (newer) nostalgia works well with old patrons who a few years back grew to just love the old, longtime Seasons Tavern, and now appreciate version 5.0 — or should I say 5.01 — thus becoming the new 501 Tavern, that adds a few tweaks to make it their own as well. High customer traffic in their first few weeks open bears that out, in the historic venue along a prime corner of Hwy. 35 in the center of North Hudson, a little bit of the northwoods brought home in log cabin motif throughout — gotta love them wagon wheels, and wooden slabs nailed thick together. (Little lilts and tweaks currently include — next to that same retained lower-level fireplace — lots of lightly twinkling Christmas lights strung on thick wooden poles, the width of a waif waitress waist.)
The ways decked out bottles and other items are arranged on a shelf or two set high above the middle of the downstairs bar have been rearranged, after a key suggestion from a patron, and their beer list is updated, as well. (See, a quite roughly estimated, number given below.)
Others have commented on the cleanliness of the kitchen and whole place, workers said. One added his girlfriend was particularly impressed, not always an easy task.
They are open for breakfast on Saturday and Sunday from 9 a.m. to noon, getting the piping hot coffee brewing early for starters, and patrons have noticed the reasonable prices — those who have been showing regularly, as not all have caught onto that fact yet, so here you go with such an announcement. The big newer message on the sign along Hwy. 35 proclaims the new name, 501 Tavern.
Those breakfast prices are between $8.99 and $12.99 — or up to $16.99 for an 8-ounce steak and eggs, with extras. There are omelets of meat and cheese, western, veggie, or build your own from amongst the above. Seven other offerings are provided, an impressive number in itself, and 11 sides to pick. Ingredients that stand out include jack cheese, sauteed or grilled deli ham, grilled peppers (plural) and homemade hollandaise sauce.
The fish entrees come not just fried, but may also be boiled and pan fried, as customers can choose. Batter is homemade. And it’s only $2 for extra pieces.
The beer menu, when combined, lists several dozens beers (Lefties love Left Hand Milk Stout, not just two types of Leinie’s on tap) and ciders and seltzers, scores of them bottled.
There are nine sandwiches with many different ingredients, taking up to 25 words to fully describe, and seven burgers and chicken sandwiches, plus five wraps — and the final one, of homemade teriyaki chicken, takes even more words to bring it to life. With a perfect ten substitutes and sides.
Between dinners, noteworthy among them pepper steak, and desserts, there are far more than a dozen, in addition. And then all those salads …
They can also host your party for the holidays, and other reasons.
The new owner’s nickname is Mako, much like a shark steak or the past charasmatic Packer quarterback, Don. (The restraunteer’s real name is Dan, that being Makowske.)
New versions are offered of the gambling machines present at all such places, such as many pull tabs. After all, it has been noted there, “it’s 5:01 somewhere,” with a password given of “goodtime,” and such things often can be said best in verse. Country star Alan Jackson is brought into play, “when I listen to (what’s) above, in song, its this place.” As is Van Morrison, “everything reminds me of you,” and a plaque about such has been added. And also a third, “Need a sign to drink tonight? Here it is.” Again, with wording that stems from a patron pun.
Here we go with another:
“He who drinks gets drunk.
He who gets drunk goes to sleep.
He who goes to sleep does not sin.
He who does not sin goes to heaven.
So let’s all drink and all go to heaven.”
Another customer commented that this is what North Hudson needs, a place just like this. Again open.