This was my favorite costume pairing on a Halloween where many of the shops between party places were really decked out with gnarly and not so much pretty antiques: An older man dressed in thick, striped prison inmate garb who also had pulled over its top a Wisconsin Badger red, not black and white, jacket. Related?

Two blocks up, a longtime antique shop featured a pair, again with the theme, of white ceramic dogs — not Led Zeppelin’s Black Dog — wearing tinseled necklaces, so to speak. They are facing each other, in an about face. A duo of dogs of doom, or hounds of hell, another time musically referenced?

— You’ll want to chat ’em up! I saw this flyer in of all places downtown Hudson on the sidewalk right outside the Cream of the Crop art gallery, and it was on their window too, around the time said exhibit opened in early October, running regularly from 6-9 p.m. To wit: Its called Beyond the binary, drawing power from androgyny. These are new drawings by CL Martin, (with smirk), and there is artist talk tonight, as an added perk. Its all at Supercharged Printmakers Studio & Casket Arts in a suite on 17th Ave NE across the way in Minneapolis. —

Another sort of pairing — “but wait now there’s two!” — this time while serving deadly, diabolical drinks to non-diners: A couple of servers, working only blocks apart, Laine and Lexi, lol as far as their letters, both wore tastefully well-strung-together corsets, one black in color and the other white. A toned theme here? Hundreds carried on with such tints at The Moose, too.
Worn on the Ziggy’s coworker of the first one, going as a bright white ghoul, I recognized her tied-up-high blond locks, bunched on each side of her head, but that was about it. Others too did not immediately know who they were beholding, so stop in more often? Is she true Type O Negative, with the long streaks of fake blood over her face and neck? And it only took her an hour to get ready, she said. That’s professionalism.
A vampire, also a bartender on a previous night, put up with a bad joke on my part: “I’d love to have you suck my blood, but I’ve met too many vampires tonight, so I’m fresh out.”
A man dressed as a superhero was asked, by me, jokingly, if those of his type never have to pay for their drinks? “Never,” he said, lol.
Also funny, if unintentionally, was a trio’s twist on what you’d wear at the cop shop. The lead “officer” wore Aussie gear and sitting next to her was another “inmate” in the typical orange jumpsuit, and also with a hat, his of a sports team. “Pirates” to go into lockup, or lockdown, Depp into the deep? A more typical-looking police officer brought up the rear.
The coolest character, outside, was Gumby in green, his T-shirt short-sleeve. That was a newer turn, on the floor, rather than so many flapper dancers on The Moose sidewalk.
The downtown had shown off, often, off-white although not quite oblong pumpkins, or could they be gourds, as to borrow a marketing catch phrase, you are gourd-eous, although in evil makeup. Even she said that the other fright night. But we have just recently seen yellow pumpkins, too. And on all kinds of different fronts, there has been flashy orange on a black background, the Halloween colors beheld.
At a different party, was a woman as a rocker, and not Joan Jett, although that was one she referenced. I thought Slash, with stovetop hat about two inches shorter — although she nixed that — or Alice Cooper, who was shown again on the back of her coat. And a magician she follows, and why do I want to say Serengeti?
I did get into gear myself, going as what I called a bad rooster, such pictured with a green crest that was actually a glove, deformed since I was in an evil persona, but held in place to a degree with bent metal. Wire hangers? On my face, a bit of toothpaste, which I wanted to make into a set of cheeky arrows, but they smudged way too much.
All to give candy to the trick-and-treaters who passed by my patio. I found I had to explain what was wearing to those dressed … normally as this was early … to the point where if I saw an adult sans child coming by, turned my back and my face under my collar, then walking away.
So this puts the wraps on Halloween, in these pages. Hope you had some scary fun, whether like me on the prior Thursday or Saturday, or Tuesday … or even on Monday for the second party for this holiday at Dick’s Bar and Grill, with the ’80s the first theme. They started doing this there all the Mondays of the month of October, and these were the spooky themes: Dracula’s veiled Vampire vigil, Beyond the grave with the Mummy, Frankenstein’s monster mash, and lastly the Wolfman’s haunted howl.

So you plan to go trick-or-treating tonight in the south-to-north blocks that extend from, the stoplights at Vine Street in the area near the downtown all the way to the spotlights halfway to Lake Mallalieu. In the main Victorian era area, historically speaking, thus springing from town. And we all know the kids of gothic things those oldsters were into.

There are various bends and sidestreets that can be taken to lumber along that way, and here are some of the just slightly awful takes on frights you might see, even if the night brings them in veiled form, as Daylight Savings Time again did you a favor.

On the Second Street jog, see all those pink flamingos in front of a newly pink-silled house. With such colored chairs on the broad front patio too, maybe giving out treats. And don’t forget their angels, even if you are in slightly evil costumes. All these were just added to a house that a long time ago had been converted to four, count em, apartments and given a makeover at the height of the Barbie craze.
This is Halloween-themed since it’s now in the same color scheme as another newly-decked-out house just two blocks up to the (icy) north — known as the Goth Castle, but madeover just before its nearly neighbor did in its twist of the new pink bold, to the point of being shocking. One wonders what wonderful wonders await those going to this year’s (invite only?) Halloween party, where one conceivably could be cool even if that older-ad, white-haired version of Ken, shown in the movie. The new digs are called Barbiecore, a sign on the front porch says so, rather than the possibly former metalcore. There are still many gingling green, what-look-like big teeth, hanging on a rope over the porch. Owner Brooke Fleetwood was shown in the local newspaper that is my new colleague looking much like a pop diva and posing next to a ready-for-prime-time pink sorta pickup truck. There is a like colored bus also, and lamp-post of the same. A national cable TV channel or two had even recently chatted about such an extreme, but elsewhere, Barbie dream house. This one had, in past parties, reminded just a little of Tom Cruise in his Eyes Wide Shut flick.

Of course, on Halloween eve, the nearby historic Third Street district is all-in and all-it for treat-or-treating, catering to hoards.
The local police will have some of the area streets basically a bit barricaded, but not going so far as to bar trick-or-treaters in the form of a blockade. Rather, it will be in the form of no parking on much of Third Street between 5-9 p.m. But overnight on the last two evenings, all kinds of creepy creatures made their appearance, many large in size and often in the form of big over-inflatables.

Heading over that way …
Even a stark wall can have appeal on this holiday, and what prey tell is lurking behind it, especially if it is long and tall — like across the main drag and just to the south of the hot pink. Or not that high but running the length of a long driveway. Maybe just a basic building, like the ones often seen at the end of a creepy block, that are slate gray with a Deep Purple tint, simply put.
Or three churches spires lined up as one, across barely two blocks, (and then there are two more atop bed and breakfasts). They grow more steep as you walk along this way, but in which direction? And varying bands in their width, spindly mixed with girth, make (gothically organ?) themed music on this given night, all of souls and saints and other sodden actors. Primped up in the many historic Victorian houses for this occasion.
Here and there, but not everywhere, are fast browning and thus getting gnarly gardens and their plants, with spur-like things, creeping outward everywhere, high and sideways, big flowered heads with bitty edges becoming burnt red for the occasion, with their only pedals tiny balls.
On burning bushes a bit beyond are hell-fire red budding leaves, and even berries underlying still green foliage.
Chairs set in place, midstream, out on patios were in threes, not twos, and one noteworthy trio was in bright red — could have been metal man Ronnie James Dio sitting at the left hand of the devil; OK that’s a myth on this mythological holiday, as Dio wasn’t really this evil old guy.
In one place — condemned building and more on that later — a 35-foot-long stray stem with squash and/or pumpkins spreads out almost to the sidewalk, moving at quarters. It looks out of place and off-kilter combined with the scalped grass all around the yard it crosses, now buried in leaves of all shapes. And their bushes have only hacked-off nubs on the end of their still-thick branches, making the place look very vacant.
One of the area murals that extends into two different blocks has it all — frogs and toads, (no newts or even their eyes), long and at times coiled snakes, various snails, many worms, bugs of all types, ants by the number — and to change it up a calm fox. They almost seem to tell a story ala Alice In Wonderland. Flora intermingled. But few delicate little pedals. Little Flower would have to be another time.
In the vein of storytelling, there are more than one of the free mini-libraries set up on these streets, including one outside the eight-sided, like spider legs, Octagon House. Ghost stories galore?
At the end of that block with the main mural, on Vine, is very much a spooktacular too, hawked heroically at the Living Word Church, on the corner where you’ll watch trick-or-treaters go by, (could they quite unlike the church itself be the undead?) Fall colors galore on their sign. And kitty-corner across the block is a sculpture that looks like a living-room-size spider stretching above a set of stairs.

Lumber through leftover leaves …
The leaves are finally now turning — first brought by the sumac that is everywhere alongside the many roadsides that lead to many roadhouses and what you might find in their backwoods — then in turn those maples, those seen in great number along Third Street, as their mid-purples provide the picture. Ghost of Prince? So here we go, Halloween anyone?
Of course I must mention, smaller yard decorations. Things like little witches hiding in corners of brick walls. One of the first I spotted was a skeleton that looked somewhat bigger, pumped-up puma size but positively pre-Jurasic, and a set of creatures, three feet apart, balancing a tied bag between them that just coulda housed a body!
You just gotta think one may have been left behind in that condemned house. Signs on the door and windows indicate that all who can enter are authorized personnel. Like a coroner? Just ask the owl, nearby, keeping watch over … what?

On that (mid)night before as my new editor at the HSO called it, in an accompanying piece, Halloweekend, with its parties, there were quite a few rowdy people out, but most of the costumes were reserved for Stillwater and what was called its Halloween crawl — like you needed that extra notation for again, this weekend, although still early. One man who stood out, getting on jump on the Saturday night parties, was describing to the bartender his mullet — why do I want to say mule? — made longer and excentuated by what he said was not a rug but rather hair extensions. Cool for a dude. Better then Trump’s toupe, and that’s amazing since he’s such as narcissist. Won’t go into Bernie or Biden.

Several hours later, on mid-Saturday morning, a shop owner was cleaning up the sidewalk (from the night before?), of its leaves and such, getting the prep done for her not-so-small event that would feature myriad activities such as mini-tarot readings for the little minions, spell jar making, storytime of course, and kiddie bingo (connect unicorns?) at the metaphysical shop down the way from my place.

— After some at that busyness at the Apothecary Business, they closed early on Sunday, as it was a day for pro football, not potions. Thus for the neighboring barber shop, a travel day to Titletown and a sign: Closed to go to the Packer and Vike game, Aaron.

Maybe they shoulda said Jordan, conjuring something up for him … And captain Kirk, despite enterprising a win at Lambeau, unfortunately ended up balancing on the bench like one of the craggy skeletons mentioned in this article, the victim of an apartment Achilles heal injury.

But there’s more on the Eve of All Hallows injury list, so if you dare … Something to squeeze in between the weekend costume parties and the Tuesday night haunt itself. Tonight, that being Monday, at Dick’s Bar and Grill is another version of their Halloween party, the Eat Drink and Be Scary version. Grub and party gear is the rub. Only Monday offering in this very “vein” that I know of. And there, they just might be vain. —
It had been about a week earlier that we’d seen the first of a rollout of fall events, a Scandinavian festival, that may have featured Celtic themes, such as at Halloween, at a downtown church.
This season, skeleton decor seems to be a thing, and not just the bones, as such, as formed with solely the cheesy pieces of quite puffy plastic, but in even more cases a very craggy and brittle look like you might see on a metal album cover. This could just be a matter of bone density. Some skeletons are laden with big black sprites of tinsel, though like a necklace or other piece of jewelry. Fine.
Fake spider webs around town are very big at times, but the smaller and real ones are not intentional, such as those in the brick corners of nightclub front walls, or in a great big pot (cauldron?) of browning flowers.
My very welcoming friend two doors down in the apartment always changes welcome mats by the season, starting with “wipe your paws” and now sporting all kinds of fall colors and leafy images, among them seven candy corn pieces and a dark owl. But no tricks here from this straight-forward lady.
In two places where the concrete next to the street has been placed aside, there have been sitting an also perfect seven — reminescent of the quality of underlying reconstruction? — of bright and also tinted orange, as is the theme this time of year, made of plastic cones, that soon became eight. Neither reached nine.
Like the play on the seven deadly sins on a silly sign at the bank, right in front of where you fill out your deposit slip. And next to that a plug for their “black witches club,” OK there is no such thing as again, its only a sign, and not a true visionary one.
But is the following such a sign? My website’s messages counter was stuck on this flight number for a while, 90,666. On this holiday! Hmm …

Two or is it three, other numbers make the cut. The little golden “30s” the size of less then a dime are still here, there and everywhere on the sidewalks, now on the 29th, leftover from a birthday party of the same number of years. And then the red, white and blue plastic balloons of a similar nature, about three dozen of them, over at Barker’s, one of them listing “35” in a puffy fashion befitting … an Old School plastic skeleton.

Three nights before the actual witching hour of Halloween, a typical fashion, numerous nightclubs in the Hudson downtown and surrounding towns already get going with costume contests that typically bring in thousands — in numbers of both partiers and prize money.

You’ve heard this from me before, but it bears repeating. Barely. But verily.
This has been a Hudson tradition for decades, and involves both diehard locals and hundreds from the Twin Cities, often flocking in by boarding ghoul-friendly, glowing party buses. The pandemic ebbed it for a while but did not kill it. People hit the area discount stores in advance, not just to get candy, but to get their gear and makeup, which some see as an investment — but some killer costumes, albiet with variations, get resurrected every year from the closet, just with the fake blood added in front of the mirror each annem.
The timing of the pre-holiday costume parties each year, which can be on more than one night, or sometimes even on more than one time in a given night, is determined by when Halloween falls. For 2023, having them all on Saturday, Sept. 28, was an easy choice. The exact timing of when the winners are chosen varies by venue, and some of the annual pros make it a point to check out as many parties as they can, and rake in the most dough. Some such partiers also frequent places not having costume parties — and the hosting of such can be touch-and-go post-pandemic — and rather just music, simply to be further seen.
Some of the bigger money parties have put on such a show since before this Millennium, although the timing of when winners are picked and exactly how much money they will take home sometimes doesn’t get finalized by venues until later in the week, right before the ballroom blitz.
The shining star each year is the Smilin’ Moose, with prizes for first place in the range of $500. (Most of the others around town are mid-range of that as far as what they give away). The Moose often places in the back deejay area a stage, large another so it could house a full band, raised several feet above the floor, and on it parade the finalists, thus gauging the cheers of the crowd as they are introduced.
Kitty-korner a block down at Dick’s Bar and Grill, they have their accompanying music deejay really get into the act of chatting-up with spooky banter those in the costumed crowd, often breaking them down into semi-finalists prior to picking who is best. Like some other venues, there can be distinctions made for those who are things like most original, male vs. female costumed customer, or even doing haunting as a couple. The chosen one or few will be named at midnight, the most common but not only time for such local venues.

Decor galore …
At Hudson Tap, the treat are themed drink specials at 20 ounces for $4 made up of — not necessarily Bud — but Bloody Light beer drafts, as well as bloody-well shots. And some of the best decor for the holiday you will find. Here you will see many wicked wonders, including a spider the size of more than four footballs complete with webs, stretching gingerly but in black over the top of four Wisconsin beer brew caps the size of basketballs. There is another pink spider, as it could of bitten Barbie, behind the bar. In back a large ghost hangs, and up in the front a smaller one bearing big black boots. And scores of skulls, all in dangling downward lines, and many other spooks aplenty. At a small front window is a bit bigger ghost with arms waving, yes, up and down in triplicate.
Their specials scene could be seen as the nightime version of Bloody Mary’s.
Places midstream in the downtown like Agave Kitchen, together with its upstairs Bullpen Cantina — although they could go boo and kill it off this year! — thus have often followed the cultural surge and gone to having a vote done, even if cast later, via digital submissions. So if you are in the area …
Over at The Empourium, in the town of Hudson, they replay the old trick for treaters of having that night’s band, still to be finalized so check their Facebook, (its actually 8 Foot 4, Frankie kinda height), dressed up in costume while they play in that big, multi-tiered dance-area venue. The Monster Mash? Heard that sung at karaoke on the eve, and it was killer. Didn’t recall that the lyrics, beyond just the chorus, were so clever.
A place to start is the Bungalow Inn, just across the St. Croix River in Lakeland, since their costume contest judging is early, at 10:30 p.m. Participants must register by 10 p.m. and be present when winners are announced at 11 p.m. Also different than most of the other venues having contests, the Bungalow is presenting a band called The Drive, featuring the “coolest” music from the ’70s and ’80s — a different “time signature” then most — in their supper club format that often caters to a bit of an older crowd. The Bungalow after being off for a bit with their music, is kickin’ it again.
And you could get an even earlier start. The costume contest at what has been known as Bobtown Bar in Roberts get going at, get this 8 p.m. It now is under new ownership by a man you may know from back in the day as a stalwart, behind the bar, at Dick’s Bar and Grill in neighboring Hudson. For the pleasure of showing up early, at this village, you could collect a $100 prize.

Things start on Friday too …
Down south, to get going even sooner, in two ways, at the GasLite in Ellsworth, get your groove on already on Friday night, starting at 8 with music that can lead to a costume winning way, and that’s not gaslighting. This is a birthday party, in addition, so a combo — two different ways to party — concerning the Alex Zachary Band, and haven’t hit them on this site for a while, that does their opening number right around the time of the costume get-go. But hey, a bassist also on vocals? Could be the reincarnation of Lemmy!
The scene spreads into North Hudson, as well, where the Village Inn takes command with their contest, as dollar amounts can’t rival The Moose, but remains another very spacious place to hit and show off your goods.
Also a bit off the beaten track, and rounding out the mix, is the Willow River Saloon in Burkhardt, know for their weekly bands that play mostly classic rock, and country of that era, in an appropriately fall-themed wood-hewn atmosphere. So dress accordingly?
There are certain kings and queens who show up in slightly different versions of the same iconic costumes, year in and year out. There are two standouts, from what I’ve seen since the 1990s. And they are not always the prototypical Frankie or Dracula. Creativity goes a long way in winning these contests.
One is, almost literally as the law will allow, Lady Godiva — but don’t pigeonhole her as that character or she just might cast a spell on you. Another is a man who is authentically in a shower up to his nose-high spray nozzle, but with curtain around him from neck down. Do we see a theme here?

To get in the Hilarious Historic Hudson All Hallows mood way early if you are a Baby Boomer, there is the annual trick-or-treat giveaway of kids candy on upper Locust Street by almost a dozen of its businesses, as they jump into the fray on Thursday, Oct. 26 — in the same block at The Smilin’ Moose, where you just might show up, if a classic rocker who can tolerate hip-hop heads for Halloween, in such a costume two days later.

Mark the longtime main guy behind the bannister at Micklesen Drug, a chief fixture of this occasion where they take a rare pass on their norm to kill off hyperglycemia — or is it hypo? — is waiting for you on the main Locust Street corner, and will help you amp up your blood sugar without taking it too far. He is quick with a joke and a light up your smoke — OK he would not recommend that end as he is a pharmacist — and there is no place that he’d rather be than giving away candy. He’ll tailor his trademark wit to the kiddies. Few if any jokes about locusts with way too many mutated legs and even more wings from bad use of his products, comprising an actual plague. And I will wait until a much, much more appropriate time to tell his bad — OK I prompted it — although hilarious, allegedly, tale of a third med-related green tail being grown and how he’d cure it with a hacksaw. Or is it the third one in his (spooky) garage. Or did I tell that tale of the (orange and/as the new black) tape to hold candy together already? And if the regulators are reading, this is not recommended reading for any of his clients. His actual knowledge — joking aside — of what meds can and can’t do for you is immense. So while you and yours get your grub …

Mark said they will typically get 300 to 400 trick-or-treaters in this 4-7 p.m. annual event, all held in just over a city block. Wait, he added, it could go as high as 700 in this club. That’s well over 200 an hour. Monster money made for M & Ms. The weather could potentially rain or sleet on this parade, or part of it, so we’ll shoot for a mid-range of 500. (Won’t have to feed the 5,000. That’s for the following All Saints Day.)

With those things in mind, consider hitting me up, a block up, for some candy and other creative kinds of treats — and more horrible tales about tails — as you go along that night, but the trick might be to get there early. First-come, first-serve, while supplies last, as hey, HudsonWiNightlife didn’t budget well and only had $5.37 under this heading. OK, I may have gotten the digits wrong, but you get the gist. (These days on social media you can get away with that qualification.)

*** I am now at the Buena Vista apartments just before the stoplight at Vine and Second, giving away what I’ll broadly and simply call stuff. Just know that with that said, this is Ugly Kid Joe, (music related costume), if you remember the band when they opened in the Twin Cities for Ozzy, and I was in attendance gathering (future Halloween-ish from the Master Keeper) tips, that’s what we’re talking about here. So you get what you get, as says one of his followers. See if you can tell what slightly-upper patio I’ll be on, so I can get the drop on you.

Also on Thursday, the Octagon House in the Third Street Historic District “kicks off” its Halloween season, and you’ll be just dying to get in there, and give an arm and a leg to participate in a series on ongoing tours. On this day, the deathly topic for the ages is Victorian superstitions and ghost stories, and on the 28th and 29th is death customs of the 1800s. Centuries old scares and not for the faint of (disemboweled) heart. On Halloween itself, there’s the haunt with the Octagon witches, and they put it best this way:  “Double double toil and trouble … The cauldron burns and The Octagon bubbles.”

Couldn’t of said it better myself. Although I will try when all the little locusts arrive, starting Thursday late afternoon.

Ever wanted to get an awareness of your-life-situation “reading.” Of what you maybe should have already known. But needed proper and proprietorial guidance. Here you go, Oct. 20 and 21, as the first weekend of many Halloween festivities rolls out in Hudson.

Here, further down in this post, is a testimonial. Its given in spades. And in the cards. Of your Queen? And you are her King, metamorphically? Back to it now Jack. And you might find it hard to hide your black cards, even if you think you are able. The Aces here are very, very high in their measure. Sometimes the stakes are too.

— And if you didn’t get your inner freak out now, go to Ziggy’s Hudson on Saturday night, that being the 21st, when the featured band that’ll be showcasing its greatest songs, such as in its telling name, is Show Me Your Hits. Get your mind out of the gutter. As when I profiled the somewhat-such-titled band (slightly edited) Some Hitty Cover Band.

On a different front, on Halloween and its clothings. I hope you’re all ears. At the Hudson Public Library on Monday, that being the 23rd, get there from 6-8 p.m. and be shown by those who help us read well but even do so much more, how to use quilled paper and “craft around” and make holiday earrings. Also for those who will listen, so many area churches offer events that take a play on the trick or treat theme, and one on the south end of River Falls calls it trunk or treat, and also get in some evangelization on the cusp of All Saints Day. —
So no more procrastinating on the main theme of this post, as it would be bad karma, (OK too easy a joke for my “enhanced” standards). The coming Halloween is your time and indeed kingdom now come. Show up in the 400 block of Second Street, (midblock), on the west side, (more on that below), at two times this evening weekend, and reach closer to full enlightenment? Two different psychics, paired perfectly, will give you such a reading, and the price will likely be right. But beware … In a good way. Few if any tricks.
Such parties are merely a portal. Experience-learned people who provide such wisdom are really and fully behind building a broader clientele, not just for profit, but for prophet. And its prophecy. Laden to helping people with their ongoing lives.
The joy is not in the dollar, but the great fodder it brings. They are really into helping people carry on in this world, against odds, with insight only they and theirs can offer. But psychics are not an end-all, but a means toward a better end. You have to know, just and exactly, how to work with them, for best result, and that will be covered in later posts. So stay tuned.
I now reference a — now-dead by this hand — man who helped me massively in my pain and quest. It all started with an episode such as these being hawked in this post, that changed and thus possibly even saved my life, and a love. It all occurred, many years ago, at a venue only two blocks down, south, from what will happen this weekend.
A man at the far end of Pudge’s, that is what it was called then, was shooting pool, another fave of his. A mate deviated from the back room, with its multiple tables, and said that there is a new guy in town, and he just opened up a psychic shop. Could I write up a new business story for the paper? To show me he was the real deal, he would first show me, in full form, and demonstrate the salt of his earth.
What entailed in the next half-hour would literally — if somewhat metamorphically — save my life. He nailed my very life situation, point by point, for 19 of the next 20 minutes he talked. (The rest was the dearth of NFL football, love the Packers). Then verily, he took a great big and heaving breath, as best he could. And then he told me, lets take a break and get through Christmas, then come back and make an appointment and see me, as I have so much more to say. And he very much did. Later, and unfolding.
So it started. Although I can offer no implicit guarantee, thus might be more of what you will encounter this Friday/Saturday. I should have known, because even this many decades earlier, in a similar situation and scenario, a psychic gave similar advice at a workish and holiday party — and promptly left the table based on what aweful things she had seen in the preliminary part of the read.
So much more of this experience I had, and many others like it, later on this bat channel. Season assumed.
But until then, get going on your Halloween this Friday and Saturday, 7 p.m. each, if you want to go back again, and see what may await you with many such readings, at a downtown enlightenment-based shop that does not want to give out its (very newly chosen) name just yet because others are thus named like it. Appease the legal beagles and their lions come Halloween. But you can find its sign on their doors and windows — see address info above — and scan that newly cool code to reserve a space.

Wisconsin has seen its share of airplane crashes taking the lives of up-and-even-further-coming music stars — Lake Geneva flying east is only one example — as we see more needs for people to get “on a jet-aeroplane” or “no time to take a fast train” with the situation in the Middle East. But wait, this isn’t a copycat of Leaving Afghanistan, since Israel long ago has essentially shut-down the one airport in the Gaza Strip. Rail lines, if even existing, likely have been bombed out in both feuding countries. So no escape. Like those poor souls in the very front of a death-metal mosh pit, pushed against other types of fences.

And, I reference a gang of four who in the heydays of rock hit the rough road from Hudson in the far northwest end of Wisconsin, and headed for a Milwaukee concert — going past Lake Geneva and the ghost of Stevie Ray Vaughn — following the route of so many actually in a rock band, with motley van dragged metal on the blacktop. Bumper decals stayed largely OK, though roughed edged and scratched. Most fans have better rides. Mufflers and even woofers and more breaking down, including engine parts unknown, along the way, in more than one location. I myself have had The Troubles in the car more than once in halfway Tomah — at the unholy Trinity where there’s a break in freeway, where it goes either west or more northernly, between I-90 and I-94. Going up north.
But its so much worse in Gaza, if you are asked to find some way to trek almost two-dozen miles to the south gap at Egypt — and it would be farther if this wasn’t one of the such-enforced most densely populated places on the planet, with like a gagilion in every square mile?
This, in The Middle East, is more important than going to see a Sabbath-type or Stillwater or Sweetwater show back in the ’70s. Have all of us who bitch about our commute thought about how you make your way to the land of Anubis. This is no concert backdrop. As all agree that the rank and file in Palestine are not the enemy. But they must now march. Into eternity?
It only starts with food and water, and how can you indeed march many miles while being famished? No canteens here like in the old Westerns. What about medications, that niceity of the 20th Century? Insulin sminsulin. And what if you are disabled, and just how do you walk while dragging oxygen or a dialysis machine. You simply die.
If you can find a car or motorcycle — can Harley Davidson donate some low-riders? — are you even able to get some gas, or pay for it as banks have been bombed, or is there even a station still in existance? Much less a convenience store with other things you might need to get to Egypt, like motor oil before your parts go dry. Might resonate if you are one of those hyper-fastidious types who change it every 3,000 miles. What if your car was at or about 2,999, and you use the cheap stuff, at the time of the initial missile strikes, and it was 9:58, too late to rush to the nearest Quickie Lube before it would close at the 10 O’Clock Hour? And you can’t call on your cell phone, to check if that cute clerk and you know the one, would hold the register open a few more minutes, since you were displaced so fast you don’t have it in your pocket? Nevermind the fact that its black plastic is so slippery it fell out in a trip to the West Bank … while it was still open to people like you. And your wallet was left under the couch, if you have one and people in this region have scant funishings, then screw you. Change in your pocket may not get you there. Not that’s stress.
What if walking with toddlers? And their diapers if they need? Somewhere we all go. And other clothing, it temps and rains change like they seem to wherever you live? And the two-lane road, if that, not four-lane, has no shoulder.
Maybe its good that Gaza is only 25 miles long. But if in the northern remote outpost, if there is such a thing here, that is Gaza City is perhaps 20 away from The Promised Land of Egypt. Am I the only one who sees irony here, that title included, from so far back in the past no one had heard about an Israeli State?

Back in the Year 2000, it seems like a century ago, I went out and did a reaction story to the fact that it was not only a Friday the 13th, but a full moon — and any bar bouncer worth his salt will tell you what that will bring. Their wisdom checked out as true. In spades. And there were few aces out that night. Unruly bits of behavior abounded.

So you know what I researched last Friday (unlucky 13th, that being the Unit of Moon Zappa, except for story fodder) … Beginning early on Thursday eve, as the full new stage of the orb also approached. Would people react with any sort of trauma, this time around, under the same circumstances? And would there be saving graces?

— To further aid your physical and mental health, through QScience, see the Joe’s Wholesome Holistics department on the side of this post. —
A starting point on my theme. I saw out on the patio a woman who had recently lost a son at a quite young age, and for the most part was battling it bravely, but this was a darker day. But nearer to my apartment door, the neighbor had on much longer than her norm, a sign that announced she was sick, and again, longer than usual.
Then at an “enlightenment” shop, the clerk who like me is an ultimate empath, told me of her need for “shadow work” and embracing in order to understand, both the dark and light sides. Especially lately, she added, songs are sticking in her head — and say I this is not so bad if it’s one you love. And me too in tune, more than usual. Most noteworthy, for both days, and with our recent quite apt weather, The Rain Song by Led Zeppelin. “People won’t you listen now.” And our likeminded need to forego the depressing news, even ABC and hey forget FOX, especially now, (and see the post below on the HAMAS-again-begun dehumanity.)
Was my report balanced? I queried my old friend at AP, an editor with them. She said it was indeed so, and agreed it gave her food for thought.
However oddly, but for this day, I was left a bit unfulfilled by her response, with nothing really earth-shattering said, which is unlike her. No exclamation points, or considering the content, a Bahahaha. But I thanked her for her time.
But when she wrote back to my write-back … I always enjoy reading your posts, she said. So a silver lining under a silver and bandwise, freezing (this time of year) Mayhem moon.

But I soon found out, and so many locals had it wrong, this was actually a new moon — but very much the same — a flipside in its sliver of a crescent and its same effects, but not a full moon. And it would hit its apex on The Fourteenth, on Saturday. The energies that are said to come on such a day, go forth and aft for three days, but not a Holy Trinity. It is a time to re-engage and revise, re-create and indeed re-intention, your ways. It has been called a “cosmic reset.”
Such rare lunar occurrences are only, on average, counted every 20 years. The next is to be in year 2049. The last was also on an Oct. 13, in that allegedly cursed annem, of the millennium.
Many such things, which we have been conditioned to largely suppress, have a (temporary) lunar, or I could say tidal pull, on our minds and bodies and souls. Encapsulating all those we encounter, and although we are advised on such days to avoid “energy suckers,” its hard if that’s who you are. (And spoiler alert, this post is muddling in the murk, although not necessarily too dank.)
As I went though the day and days, my mode went through many, quite minor but noticeable, short-term shifts to how it worked through such aches and changes and kicking-it-though-subtle moods. I tend to be prone to some of these things anyway, but hey, not like this, and in this number. Just for this short, once-every-decade-or-more time, I think.
Then out for a walk, I saw the maintenance woman, who looked stressed and appeared to appreciate my well-wishes.
So I called a fellow empath, my nephew.
I said the day had been “grungy” and he readily agreed. His father had been taken to the hospital with a leg infection, upon his first review of the (battle these days) phone call, and it turned out, pending a later review, that his dad was being transported there, as in an actually scheduled urgent-care appointment.
So then, I called a relative in a care facility, and it had been a forgot-the-recent-past-and-who-I-saw day with some confusion. Thought not a good time to make a funny quip on “gramps are you having cramps?”

So went out on the music scene, with The 13th fast approaching, to check out a theory …
On the south end of town, it was redneck country getting more closely ready for a brawl. At least a little. Conversations were taut and taunt, but still a bit restrained, but close to your face, even with the bartender leaning over to the middle-aged guy with a bald spot, chatting her up, or vise versa. Shout-outs for such rural rock, think Randy Travis, made back and forth. Complete with a drinking song with a patron’s name sung out, repeatedly. That (this is acoustic?) guitar and even voice were so loud, which normally I will find a fave, but on this night, very rare for me, maybe a little too much. Not so much Slayer but Sigler. I’ll check back and I’m sure praise it, come Saturday.
One block up, the word on that vibe had spread. All were referencing the full moon/Friday the 13th combo. The bartender knew of both things. Also, a friend at the end of the bar, who can be a bit loud but not unruly, was having an it-did-show bad night. Saturday night it carried forward.
A twist when it came to the next night: The bartenders and bouncers were friendly, more than usual. And Taylor too at The Tap. But …
Prior to that when walking past The Moose, I sorta-accidentally caught the gaze of a much-like zombie, with her dark eyes sullen and staring across a window. Maybe it was the makeup …
Later, after the midnight hour had passed into the next (moon-phase) day, very many of the patrons at a particular place, were acting, displaying various degrees of angst and even a bit of anger, their edginess as they interacted and engaged.
The guy at the door said that hey, the patrons had not been that badly behaved, but his technology had failed them six ways from Sunday, which would be a day or two away. But they had kicked a guy out, who then tried to come back in, and so forth, and referenced was the name of a woman and I’d heard her name before, who had been upset by a touch.
How much concidence, versus awareness and open eyes? You decide.

The horrific war images just keep pouring in, from Israel and Gaza and near the West Bank and virtually everywhere in that region — now likely Lebanon — and so how do we in The West react to what’s going on in The Middle East?

I wish to suggest that there are few White Knights, satin or otherwise, in this battle, going back I think to the days of the crusades. Like in sports, it is not always the person who throws the first punch … who gets called for the foul … Even though the missiles fired by the thousands by HAMAS — and its sheer depravity against civilians, although what’s being done in Gaza also is horrible — in The Middle East, that started things off again, are totally unjustifiable. (But there is so much more at stake then whose shown winning the World Series, at the area sports bars in their hundreds. When you look at the wrath against Israel, who is victorious in the western vs. eastern conference becomes inconsequential.)
How The West Was Won, for example? It never really was. Just keeps unfolding. Ask the Native Americans. And reference the band Stabbing Westward, as it is/was.

— Also, take a stab at some fall colors, now nearing peak in various localities, and especially at the golden-hued GasLite near Ellsworth, on its 17 acres for camping/viewing. See the Picks of the Week department. —
It also has been said that last week’s attack was prompted, to a degree that is arguably hard to quantify, by the Israelis allegedly mistreating Palestinians, and it would be very easy to go gonzo over Gaza and they call it simply a small strip for a reason. So here we go again, as for decades running. Indeed, these particular very nuanced themes go back as far as World War II, and maybe before that. (More on that later in this post.)
President Biden is right in saying that the latest, still was an unprovoked terrorist attack. But there has been so much of this atrocity back and forth over the years. Ozzy sung it best in his song Crazy Train, “Maybe it’s not too late, to learn how to love, and forget how to hate. Mental wounds not healing. Who and what’s to be …” (One of the main places where the atrocities caused by HAMAS started were, of course, a music fest where hundreds died. For many of the fans, there would be no encore.) And hatred is what is driving all this in the Mideast, built up, again, for over a half-century.
It was mentioned early on the news that this was almost to the day a 50-year anniversary — and also a major holy holiday — of one of the biggest acts of war between the countries. (In fitting with part of this post, I will not actually suggest a total aggressor.) I’d much rather do a remembrance of 50 years for an event that’s a Celebration Day, like that for an instant classic Led Zeppelin album containing that song performed live.
This latest attack after yet another imminent serge of “immigrancy,” as I will call the continuing human epidemic of being a refugee, in Eastern Europe, and Asia, to name one or two places.
Don’t ever think it ends with the Ukraine. And we not rush as fast to their aid?

Why can’t the parties in the Middle East all sit down and break bread, and share what they and their respective faiths love about the city they fight so bloodily to possess. And control. Instead, look with fondness into your Holy Books for synergy and commonality used in their phrases, and what they say, about Jerusalem and its merits, and beyond, I dare say. To the Heavens. You’d be surprised what you might find. Though obviously there are differences, some theologies that most people would not believe have like minds, actually say a lot of the same things. Unity not uniformity. To wit, and please do not crucify me for saying this: Christianity and Wicca. Often the white not so much the black.
(Note to Joe and his songwriting: Make an effort, even more now, to dive deep into the Torah and Koran. Thus I’ll find similarities to the Bible, also Joe, as I need to note it further — I know what of it, ten percent? — as well as so many other such Books of Wisdom. Hey, that one is in the Bible to. And the wisdom does not stop with religious writings.) How about, with these times, the age-old song Rockin’ The Casbah by the Clash? A metaphor: The Arab Oil Shiek (I reference Dio’s Neon Knights), though stereotypical and therein lies another problem, wants to go richly rock out and drink and party, pre- and post-concert, but the Israeli leader in turn, finds that being “kosher” is not there at the show. How do they resolve their differences? By use The King sending jet fighters. Rather, can’t they find common ground somewhere in the realm of the tens of thousands of songs that make up music.
This has been likened to the total Kill ‘Em All factor of WWII. Metallica weeps, as One.
Of those taken prisoner, there was even a man in a wheelchair. Anyone can be held hostage. And why strike things like a high-rise residential apartment building, leaving it crumbling and tumbling down like we saw in 9-11 — yes the comparison has been made in recent days — just to prove a point. “We fuel the jaws of the war machine and feed to it our babies.” And horrible to say, moreso now then ever, slice them up first.

Intelligence failed. On more than one side. But why? Are we always Johnnie Come Latelys? In so many cases, by the time the problem has actually reared its ugly head, with terrorism, all we can do in response is what amounts to damage control. We need, possibly, to put even more funding into shoring up our intelligence, and helping our allies do the same — as its a Brave New World in this regard and the war thing is being done much differently then ever before — not just go build more bombers. Or send them to Israel, or otherwise.
Hey, we as a country depend so much on that CIA-type-stuff coming from Israel. Tit for tat. And this gets even more to the heart of the matter, as far as the U.S. response. I have said it before and I’ll say it again, we cannot be the world’s policeman for every conflict (war) that comes about. We’ll pick and choose who we protect based on mostly our vested self interest — and its a key that HAMAS is an ally of Iran, it’s termed national security — but as a secondary factor, keeping world-wide stability, and detering other actors from taking political advantage. Good luck. Look to the north of now-far-right Israel. Even if this means bringing in the also-not-stellar Saudis. Even our news coverage here in the States seems to be quite one-sided.
And why give Israel a prefered position? There is that whole Biblical imperative thing, but it has been wisely said that such peragotives change over time — especially when its 2,000 years — and can thus be very culturally couched. Do you think we should, without context, blindly do all the very questionable things touted in Leviticus? We should try to help all people, regardless of the teachings in religious traditions.
Why do such matters, involving hate and why conflict carries on for decades if not centuries in places like the Middle East, just continue onward? And people tend to take sides, one versus another.
Part of the answer lies, fittingly, with an analysis of Hitler, and the existance of embodied evil, or good?
As I said once at home, there are very few Hitlers or Mother Theresas. There is good and bad, to varying degrees, in virtually all of us. Put us all somewhere on a continuum. Do their respective faiths believe in original sin?
It has been often said, that many Catholic saints, as named, started out being quite bad guys and girls. Later coming around to be more like their true selves, but does a remnant of their past actions remain?
Religious or not, these are important questions. Look how they could apply to the Middle East, going way back.
There is a lot of blame to go around, and there is not simply one bad guy.
Such themes play out in music. As an example, I give a Black Sabbath (seem a fitting title with what has just transpired) song that could be seen as evil, until you look closer. It is about the devil impersonating God to woo a woman. There is societal value here for analyzing, if in short form, the mind of an abuser.
But also, in getting back to my thesis on if anyone is either pure good or pure evil, an interesting question is posed, involving the devil’s perceived humanity. Could the devil actually fall in love? Does he have any friendships, in a real and non-manipulative way? Do any of his followers actually love or respect him, in a manner where they do not want something from him?

But why so much hate Jewish people?
This is called the oldest hatred, with some of the rage stemming from the idea that Jewish people are often very successful and have means, so they do not get any degree of empathy. It has been said that back before Nazi times in Germany, that Jewish people were the bosses and that they didn’t treat their German workers very well. This again, would be hard to quantify, but even if its true, to some extent, this does not justify genocide against a whole race. You do not penalize a whole group of people for the alleged sins of a few. And even if that argument would have some merit, the penalty must fit the alleged crime. Wholesale extermination is the ultimate peath penalty, not a slap on the wrist.
Unfortunately, there is very little more human than being suspicious of those who are not like ourselves. I must admit, and I feel very badly for this, that from a standpoint of sheer physical appearance, ethnic Jewish people to me can look a bit, what can I say, odd. (Of course Arabs in their turbans and sometimes scraggly and long beards are not exactly masters of modern style). I wish very much that I would not have that reaction. But it is there.
Why bring this up? Could this be why Jews, and Blacks, and Native Americans, and Asians, and Arabs too — at least in a partial explanation — are looked at by some WASPs in the way they are. Shouldn’t matter, but in our society looks are everything as far as a determinant. But we do not go as far as committing genocide against people who are, say, overweight. Maybe because many of them are of our same ethnicity? But how does that explain anti-gay bias. These are seemingly trivial, but actually important details. Maybe the next key thing for sociologists to delve into? And then change the game and indeed the conversation, and our world-view and the manner in which we view others? I hope so.
I am going to end on a different note, sort of, and please do not hate me — theme here? — for including this as part of the tale. I got a mailing asking me to donate to starving Jewish elders, some of them refugees. That circumstance again. To get serious, does this not show the degree of need in our world, as causes can get that specific with whom they have to aid? That reality is bad news for us all. The obvious horrible irony is that going back to the days of the Holocaust, Jewish people needed to become masters of doing without food and still in some cases somehow survive. Not to be glib, but that shows a very tremendous inner strength — and a beyond-comprehension resolve now seen again by hostages — that deserves all of us chipping in and helping, all those who we can. It’s very unfortunate that being Jews or otherwise, that need is the case, and demands so much from us all to make it a better world.

Come from the land of ice and rain and snow, as the rain song remains the same, a celebration day for Black Dog.

Before the recent cold and rain, every dog was having his day. It was balmy for a time, and Buffy and Barfie were being walked all around the Hudson downtown, especially up and down the west side of Second Street.
On the tiled concrete porch between the different doors of Seasons Gallery, the tan-all-over Shop Dog — as he was described by one of the art studio’s mainstays — was stretched out in his usual place, doggy dish sitting just in front of his nose. Two women came walking by, just seconds after I had, and said to the pooch, oh you are so cute … You knew petting was going to ensue. Doggy got up on his haunches.

(As they praised the pooch streetside, a semi-beer-truck ambled by, with a pair of other women, Two Chicks I think they were called, drawn on the side, heads and shoulders shown. Facial resemblance, as all four are about the same age? The ad for this brew has long been up at Dick’s Bar and Grill, as it appears to have parlayed on the success of the Two Gingers brand ad that was up and showcasing the same style, at The Smilin’ Moose. Both ad signs were placed in about the same place in the respective bathrooms.)
Three dogs up the three blocks, just doors down from the Vine Street stoplights, I saw my friend I’ll call Mr. G walking his dog. I noticed the bigger-than-puppy first, since he was pulling ahead further and further in approach of me, and then it saw that gee, it was inded Mr. G.
The same usual greeting to me, Hello Mr. Winter, and then I joked that at least it wasn’t a cat at the end of his tether. Or God forbid, a gerbil as the Freak on the Leash. How does one tether a gerbil, and maybe find that its small neck slips out of the collar, and the gerbil goes on the lamb. I asked Mr. G about that. He said, what about a herd of gerbils? I responded, it might then be good if they all escaped, such as to the riverside park a couple of blocks away.
And across from Season’s Gallery, kitty-corner, there has been a big white sign with black letters that has not remained the same, being taken up and down over the course of a few weeks. It had been planted with two big pots of flowers on the end of a fence closest to the main drag, also at the end, north-side, of a parking lot.
It is or was, you are or were … It said, specifically, “You R Awesome.” Said with You not U used. So, R U Experienced, with signage?
It appeared that someone really missed someone else, and was honoring them with this as a remembrance. As the cold weather kicked in, to start off this month, the dozens of small and multi-colored blooms were yes, fading a bit in their color, but still more vibrant then most of our flora, as if meant to be, a second type of sign.
Then, in short order, the pots and their slowly browning buds were taken away, and then the sign too, but days later the placard was put up again. We do not know its future.
Was part of the reason, that the fence is on the edge of private property? It is really bent sideways just a few feet to the east, I noticed just recently.
I just hope that there is a good resolution, for all involved.

The now, the next day, there are more signs, some updates and some new. And telling more of their stories more dog(s), plural at one of the times.
First, the “awesome” sign, it has been taken down once again. Apparently, whoever is removing it, is keeping it stowed, in their garage for possible later use.
Halfway up the way, there was a sign set on top of … something it was selling. This space of sidewalk seems to be prone for this type of thing. It was a high(er) stool in stance, or you could call it a chair. But not available, like so many a natty couch, for free although bigger, (but this stool, and its haunches, or by any other name, was in good shape.) No one had nicked its knee-high legs with their knees while they were indulging in a nightcap with a Bud named Miller.
But the sign spelled out the terms, and was clear on them: $27.95. Firm. And throw in a medium-size red, as in little red riding hood, basket that held the monetary demand on a small slip of paper. In the nextdoor venue, Agave Kitchen, the marquee said on consecutive days, Buffalo Chicken Mac (no Manwhich) and Cheese. Much like last month when its sign said, for two days running, “Octagon House vintage sale starts today. ” Think about that for a moment.
Flipside across the block, a big building in the way, were a — key number here — seven signs that said boldly Sustain Hudson, a remnant that recurs from the cusp of when street reconstruction created across-the-city chaotic effects on commerce, were lain about a lawn with concrete corners. All as another sign outside an antiques shop said, simply, We Love Hudson So Mush. Doggie theme reintroduced, in two ways.
As is the sight of two canines being led down that same street, in the same place, as if on a single leash. I remember noticing that one had big spots, or should I say blotches, of a bit of black-and-white. One block to the south, there walked a single Golden Retriever, as that kind of dog always gains note. (As per the black-and-white, the longtime owner of a dog named Spots is celebrating her birthday.)
So now more on celebrations, as the Hudson downtown has been a ghost-town on rare occasions but at a more frequently seen level of traffic, quite busy, as Halloween awaits. I also see so such much depends on the weather, and especially quite early in their seasons and post-seasons, the occurence of pro sports, football and baseball. Most notable was a recent mid-week night at Dick’s, where it was a renewed all-go as far as numbers. “It’s been this way all night long,” said a bouncer-turned-bartender.
And ah, its soon Halloween. The first frights were put out there just before the turn of the month. “We put all kinds of stuff up last night,” said a Hudson Tap bartender right as October arrived. Part of that is what I’ll call the Backway Haunted Up-High Hall of Halloween, marked by many ghosts formed by hundreds or thousands of strings of white.
Back where I saw the Golden Retriever, I also spied a trio of people briefly hanging out before entering Mallory’s. One said hi, but what caught my eye was her friend, dressed in black pants, typical, but adding dozens of white skulls the size of again, a baseball. Her sweatshirt was more flashy with slashes of red streaks creating a creature, if you let your mind go, as I thus invoke Slayer.
I poised the question, and she agreed, is it ever too soon to bring Halloween into the mix?