From The Land of 10,000 Lakes, to several times that more spectators, but only two pheasants (on last check)

Across the pond go a group from the Land of 10,000 Lakes. With the Most Important NFC North Division Game Of The Week taking place in London — and some local people making the trip over the sea — I recall the time when a patron at Guv’s Place was telling about the time when the then prime minister across the pond, Tony Blair, who was a business associate of a business associate, sent him two special-species pheasants that had been shot in a hunt as a gift, to be used for cooking. Word was that he was initially going to be in another such pheasant hunt prior to the Vikings game, but it’s hard to shoot at them in the dark. (Wait, that 8:30 a.m. start was our time, not theirs).

That didn’t keep the Hudson Buffalo Wild Wings — to name one mostly-night venue, and an unlikely one at that — from opening their doors right before game time on Sunday, although not in time for very much pregame coverage. And we have to keep in mind that London is not far away from the area where the original Vikings — the ocean-going kind, not the sports team — had initially set sail hundreds of years before football was invented.
Speaking of the Vikings, their horned logo and colors are present on a special issue of cans of a name-brand cola, but the rub is that you can’t get the special price in Wisconsin. It says so right at the bottom of the ad, although in fine print. At press time, neither Coke or Pepsi had claimed responsibility for this brutal attack on Cheesehead wallets (just kidding).

Share the Post:

Related Posts

A hodgepodge listing of everything that’s truly different but maybe baked porage follows, and we’re not talking about a connect-the-dots or puzzle-pieces contest or one on Trump’s foreign policy, haha, rather what I saw and what will be seen around town in recent times. Mostly, one of each. Think you have the world’s, or more likely local church’s, best grilled cheese sandwich, (coming from the land of, specifically, well curded and curdled milk and honey?) Fry it to the test on Saturday. No this is not an autumn chili cookoff, or char the best burger, or even a poker run...
Music in the trees? It conjures up images of a poet wearing millenniums-ago robe and sandals while playing a lute and propped onto the fourth fork of a bigger-than-usual apple tree and doing a balancing act on his ass while he sings a soliloquy or a soffit. Maybe taking a bite in-between verses, to match what listeners chomped on if they hauled it in down long nature paths, making for dinner and a show with duos and trios, and one huge and elaborate band. Well didn’t quite get that lute-ist. Or a bassist so high on life and so-forth stoned...
Questions everywhere? These days, how do you dismiss an ad or a politician, or whoever or whatever pops up and occupies your computer screen, or mailbox, electronic or otherwise? And did that answer in the form of a package or letter or even air waves — coming from a pol or a pool? — ever actually arrive, like all those ads and flyers? Maybe it never will? And surely not written with a quill. As one friend just reminded me, it all starts with one problem leading into another set of problems. Or, like a volcano boiling and brewing and...
Hey today they threw it all back to you, as it is election day, and with it the last Badger gasp — if least if they’re our candidates — (is that the throaty noise they make?), with a soar-throated, campaign-trail rasp made by an audio-version plethora of last-minute flyers that fill our boxes with hopes to grasp, so we can check their boxes when we go to the polls and pick a (partial) winner to move on to full November midterms. Less then the Trump-triumphed manhandling our mailboxes got however, in the last election of this type. Those worn, creaking...
Scroll to Top