So this is the book of Roxie. Signed by enough people that it fully filled dozens of pages. Now departed from a long and popular stint (that last word does not do it justice) behind the bar at Starr’s. Where-ever she now will roam. Far from North Hudson.
On that last fully attended night of working there as a bartender, the remembrances were written in pen and pencil, a last gasp of remembrances that were recorded by dozens of patrons showing up to honor what had been. Many were there to sign, often at length, that scrapbook-type-thing that was passed around during her entire last night.
The man next to me asked especially for the chance to write his chapter, and his entry took up more than a page in itself. Several songs spun on the jukebox before he was done. Roxie was at a table there but also far away, at the other end of the horseshoe, saying other farewells and then breaking away for a bit to deliver the book’s written pages to him, and several more paragraphs had also been recorded, from other patrons, in the meantime.
She would not go to another, if only parttime, bartending stint elsewhere in the interim, as so many do. Jumping shift(s) to a nearby city, or all the way into the Twin Cities, or the other eastern end of the county, is old hat, but this is different. Rather it was time for her to ramble on and travel cross-country to the other end of the country, and see more than North Hudson. But I’d bet that in time she’ll be back, even if just picking up an occasional shift, as that’s the way it is done. More chapters, and thus there might be need for a sequel. The same holds true of others who have left the two-state area, for sometimes months or even just weeks, then rethought the idea, even though they said I was a part of that situation, sometimes much to my surprise. I made sure to have gotten a card telling them how much they were valued, and now missed. But then they were back again. Reactions to the fore and aft have often ended in a partial or more swoon, and maybe a tear or two. Or at least stoic acknowledgement. In the latter case after I had pulled out the stops to get a card to her before she left, then I drifted and fell, but tried to make up for it when seeing a co-worker walking down the street, then pulled aside immediately to ask for directions of how to get such a note to her. Then weeks past and she was back again, as has happened with so many servers would just couldn’t be away from their regulars. This when I caught her afterward in the downtown at last, and then was able to give her the card that prefaced it, “I know we’ve not always gotten into long conversations … but it was always important to just touch base.” Stoic response, but it with a twinge, as it resonated. Just when at same, a couple or more of breast cancer charitable benefits. And at extremes as they despite similar emotion, have reacted to impending separation, both a blonde and brunette, within the same month at the same venue. And when again at the same place of service, or just down the block, if years not months, there are the pleading eyes and soft-spoken needs: Do you remember me? How could someone like myself forget.
So many peope can’t tolerate the pain of a farewell, so they dodge it, and you only find out after-the-fact, even though they are in the easy-to-be-encountered field that is the service industry. Through their girlfriends you will later know. Or it is uncanny how you might run into them in a different city, and the truism persists, I was going to tell you come my last night at work … But then they return to the same old haunts, serving the same old drinks, coming and going more then once. And so many end up in their interim at flight attendants and/or personal trainers. A commonality.
And for those farewell cards? Open them now or more likely later. Since they might not be able to cope, at that moment in time, with the groundswell of emotion.

At Champs and Kwik Trip and others, its as plain as Saturday.
“Boo! Spooky Month specials just flew in.” Using the cool wind of early autumn. Listed on the first Saturday, which is the first day period, of the month of October. To that convenience store near you, via their flyer, so maybe there’ll continue to be delivery by a witch or two until October ends, on a broom bearing brew in the form of hot coffee and boatloads of cool candy for the multitudes of minions? (Take it to the limit, and out back to the patio, and eat!) Apparently there were no supply or labor shortages or distribution hiccups. (Now that would be scary).
These and other important factors also play into the openness of the rooftop patios, tavern style, which at this time of year when they may offer heating as part of their nature, continue to pick up steam, and fill a niche left by other venues as their outdoors-loving-in-the-form-of-patios patrons, look for added attendance options. Some ground-level patios closed down as early as late August. And others do still cater to a few, sometimes hardcore patrons, like the back-to-back patios at Ziggy’s/Hop N Barrel and the both higher and lower leveled ones at the Smilin’ Moose.

— Want music too, as to quote Zeppelin, fall drives back the foot that’s slow since we come from the land of ice and snow, in the form of the recent snow? So in the vein of heated patios, don’t wait for the next frost, check out Picks of the Week for Apple Fest and more.

And then, check Notes From the Beat to check-in on how all the latest events drew. Weather permitting. —

But to go back up the roof, I asked the question on that Saturday, of a worker of the Champs in New Richmond, and was told that each year the rooftop bar closes on Oct. 1, so it was shutdown for the season just minutes before I queried. (So you have less spaces to order that occasional cool special of a $2 Captain Coke). With these Champions of the rooftop scene, and putting it in writing, you could say my timing was either very good or very bad. We’ll have to see if Santa has the same bad luck as all the creepy critters, on Oct. 31, with roof access, or if he will be acquired by the Easter Bunny in a merger that lets him again to have an entry point, dependent on the year’s timing of Easter. Or be thusly annexed, if serving a locale where there is no Siberia between their two workshops. (I always wondered how Santa got along when the children were asleep under a roof with no chimney).
Then on the lawn below, at various times during the sunning-summer past. A Teenie Weenie yellow polka dot bikini? That would imply two different colors, and when they instead have a singular tone, of either, and solely, pink or orange … Wearing two pastel tints? Thus two different swimsuits? Then you know someone is totally into their tanning.
Or do it on the ultimate deck, on rooftop. That would be a heated one. Enter Mallory’s, the northernmost bar and grill in Hudson. It has small lights all around, big cushy chairs and even a couch — and even a flag pointed southward. The attentiveness of the staff was, again, immediate, asking what I would like. No thanks, just taking it all in. And there is a lot, as they are tree-line high, offering a can’t beat it view of the fall colors. And see the St. Croix River, as a side benefit, with its own tints and tones. Then back down the exit staircase, also winding its way through several levels. A couple of gates to what’s below, partially open, by state law, but partially closed with one chain each.
But back at top, virtually every chair was filled, more than double the number of patrons in the patios, if they have them, of other bars as the cold crawls in. A marriage of both is at Mel’s Downtowner in River Falls, with their patio still open, and will be so, but as a worker pointed out, mostly for the smoking crowd. But a cool benefit, that the patio is only a go-through-the-door distance away, in case your carrying drinks, so you only have to go a few steps for a table. Most all of their bar peers have their version patios shut down at this point, or partly or totally enclosed, even if below roof level.
But some welcome the cold, such as local cooks who in the summer plied their trade in temps that were way above 100 degrees. Too much use of fans would cause the whole kitchen to shut down, (like a bad storm used to do at an old version of a creamery, meaning the guts of the driers would need to be thoroughly cleaned). This year’s heat didn’t even wait until late June to come around.
Wouldn’t we take that now?

The haunted house of houses, and not necessarily of the holy, has spoken. And this, to upend the current trend, goes way back to early September. They have/had already erected — in North Hudson in a small yard that yields to woods — among other things, some full-Frankie-size inflated glowing creatures.
What they possess in common are some great big claws that could as well be in the form of six fingers, much bigger than any human hand — even of The Donald, if you know what I mean. Waving back and forth like a politician, but garishly slowly, and I should apologize for going political, but we know what’s coming eight days after All Hallows.
But this New Richmond (apartment?) house needed to make Halloween a home now. Someone had to take charge. The person/people — on this day it could be both simultaneously — in Apartment 1 went ahead and were the one(s), putting … only … a quick cutout cardboard pumpkin and such in an open space on their door in front.
We often see, if only now and not for the other 11 months, the standard-bearer of a pair of gargoyles guarding the driveway. But now I discovered these — two concrete blonde bulldogs taking up the same role. Hard to say which is more ugly; sorry to lovers of both of those types of animals.
Need to buy some stone figurines? Other seasonal gear?

— Need contact info for the local mattress fundraiser? Or do you want to sleep on it. Either way, you have time, since the mattress-oriented charitable event is still a week away. For once, Joe is on top of things and is actually publishing details on his site, so you don’t have to go online and take the time it takes to drive by the signs all around the block and read. But profit motive, he’s going to make you stick it out to the bottom of the initial post, to get the buildup! One more evil publishing conspiracy/plot, and more on that in a future post. But here you go with the addition. It is being held Saturday, Oct. 15, at New Richmond High School and will benefit the band, through the form of proceeds to the music department. It runs 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. and the text doohickey given is “beds” at (715) 760-8686. I’ve got my crack verification team on top of gathering more details, although there was enough to be ascertained that they had to borrow already sparse time from his now overworked fact-checking department — too many typos to catch without overtime? — a slightly different animal, but that’s what happens when your publication grows, as does doing stuff off the cuff. (Again more on that later, after my site’s grouping by content category is done “soon” and that actually might mean … next year?) As for the other event that happened, as reported earlier, its for the Hudson High School Band, but I’m sure they still accept donations. Make you look longer, down below?
Oh word just in, the verification/fact-checking department(s) got some other tidbits and corrected a glitch or two, meaning HudsonWiNightlife now is back, as measured by an online algorhythm, to a trusted rating of AAA. Can you believe it. Uhm, did I spell algorhythm right? —

But retail always leads the Halloween way, and mid-week mid-morning a whole crew of WalMart workers were seen loading pumpkins by the hundreds into a display beside the big, slide-open doors. This means that budget-minded shopping for such, on such a holiday has arrived, they agreed. Another place defined by always having what you need, did become an ahead-of-time grinch well prior to that season, saying it will no longer be accepting checks as of (midnight I assume) on Oct. 31. Last chance to get all your Kwik-Trip candy without using cash or credit card. But they opined in the second day of October, I vant to vash your car. From Frankenstein, and could it be the version in that above-mentioned North Hudson yard?
They won’t be smashing these pumpkins — although some of them have a bit of a cool gnarled look, in spots — since these are just too attractive with their perfectly formed orbs.
An inflated perfect Stewie, (is that possible?), interestingly sported the biggest hair on the biggest head we’ve seen since the ’80s, is positioned at WalMart. Also available is the creature behind him, as no one takes a backseat to That Family Guy, attract attention that’s more than is needed to fulfill a thousand egos. And the ivory-white-face creature with a zipped lip, two actually, just could be inspired by the main dark metal practitioner from Cradle of Filth. Good stuff, actually. Especially fitting for his season.
The police line has, for various reasons these days, become a Poor Man’s Decorating Tool. And if you are looking for metal music such as this on and prior to your holiday, just follow that very utilitarian tool that forms an arch over a WalMart aisle leading you to the music section. And spider webs (plural in most cases) line up right behind, and are shown leading to The Next Aisle Over. They in this case are more elaborate, like they were in days of yore, so get a passing mark, as still does Thriller and Michael Jackson. Easier call.
It seems that the (pit and) the pendulum has swung back the other direction from earlier in the pandemic where people went gonzo. Now the decore shown is generally more low-key and being put up quite a bit later. Despite that, a cabbie that has an eye or two on what’s along the route, just noted that the decorating has begun.
Booyah also rang in, all through a Saturday before in a gaggle of goulash fund-raising event held at several different locations. So how many forms of it? How many sets of spices used? There are musical beneficiaries, the other being a mattress collection drive; the marching bands refused to yield, and kept on rehearsing, marching-on in the two cities involved. Bands in Hudson and New Richmond high schools are the recipients.
They can’t match the eerie instrumental music at my nephew’s recent football game, notable because of its jingling keyboard and synth from a sci-fi movie, was the same as at many a haunted house.
More music? From a name band that alludes to more than one band name. The band Maiden Daisy, hitting Ziggy’s in Hudson on Friday night, might render an opporunity to name the genre.

Here I am taking care of business, and teasing many of them. Or to quote from the Naked Gun movies: “How can you be so cruel … You forget, I used to be a building contractor.” Or needed a good one.

(This story is allegedly sponsored by the legal firm of You Always Need them LLC).
As spring turns into summer, and summer into fall … Then Red September yields to Blue October … Wake me up when September ends. But as far as not just music, but equal doses of meteorologist temps and temporal politics, as these are businesses too, I offer this as a mixed-theme story content alert. There are infinite ways to ply your trade.
And when it comes to working with housing, also, you really have to watch the seasons.
For, more to the point over those exact months, This Old House became the newest lowkey and decidedly non-loud, house-party-type-place. Now that its been run through a Realtor and thus revamped, like a reality series. I’m guessing there’s been no “short” sale, for as you will see, lets make this as festive as it is long.
It seemed that the former residents just might have vacated early. The shrubs and flowers were not trimmed in much of a coif manner, much less having a landscaping company, stuff setting around outside … Not unlike so many others, except that a few gallon jugs of what looked like motor oil were setting on the steps. Day after day into the night. That just might be a differential, if one can make such a judgment. Especially since the almost always open blinds, in the window next to the door, revealed a TV — along the far wall — that was “on” close to 24/7. Check with your design firm. Quite a bit past the witching hour. So there was someone there.

— There then was a fantastic encore that gets the party started, by hanging up some Party Zone Inc. plants with decals and making a perfect place to hang out. —

Fast forward, just a bit, Swiss Clock Company. New residents, I assume, and what seems a new beginning. Place is much more spiffy, and close at hand was erection of a small but well structured deck with various sizes of comfy chairs, an Ottoman or two from Target, and glowing lights from Home Depot that had a tropical theme or were strung neatly across the back wall. And people are serious when even in daylight hours, there were remnants, in turns, of things such as WalMart insect spray and lighter fluid organized neatly, until the next go-round, Which was not every night, mind you, but it wouldn’t have to just be a weekend. And the responsible citizens would not hold the party open until all hours, and reigned in their dog quickly if he barked at any passers-by, trained by Puppy Pros. Even with just one yelp.
This in a residential area where not far afield there was an extended corner where even on something like a typically non-party Monday night, there’d be many cars, trucks and an RV or two — but not as many as at an auto dealership — legally parked on-street all around their turn, past the time when midnight passed.
Why is any of this relevant? Even to business(es)? After all, good neighbors don’t complain too much about other neighbors — I could include myself — as it is not, should I say, neighborly. Its that these days, the process played out in a way that could be seen, although easily overstated, as a small matter of redemption and just street smarts in times when even very small doses of these are sorely needed, as they will add one onto another, and the overall good that it brings will show and indeed grow through the process. Or so our publicists write at a dollar a word.
But can we go a bit darker, and a lot deeper, into the suburban underground scene, and there is indeed, I think, such a thing as this part of this scene can be seen on a quite quiet but somewhat-auto-driven residential street through the form of a — big gray-scale utilities construction truck. The name could be that of a band, or is it something that digs into the dirt, like the underground should. Call it Dubya? The side of the truck could be like that of a stage, featuring cool utility-work-related doohickeys, and backing into a duplex driveway to … set up the stage girders to support a drum kit? Or three? For an underground band like Slipknot? Though three tiers high. But that would no longer be an underground set-up. Union rules. (To finally be serious, I hope these local hard-working guys and their bosses won’t be too mad at me for making some dark humor at their expense, even if it has compared them to a smaller group of also hardworking guys, in a metal band, even though the latter, and only the latter, confess to being a bunch of maniacs when at work on stage).
On that same city street, late at night, was a group of people partaking in a Random Party Bus LLC, after going to a concert, or just awry? A few of them got out, ran in a partial what-used-to-be-gotten-away-with-being-called a Chinese fire drill, jiggled over to the nearest house and then returned to the curb. Others looped around street-side. All were at times only partially below concert volume. Maybe like the toned-down Synth Alt Music Store intro that befalls a black stage. All hands back onboard, the bus inched forward, then picked up speed, only to slow down again, then stop to deal with whatever was needed to be taken-care-of just in the nick of time.
Ditto back in North Hudson at a stop sign, as a convertible top-down driver was topped off with a lone passenger who circled around the back then parked herself right behind him. Then go again. All the while I stood a car-door’s length away.

— Even great dancers, to stay on-point, need the services of workers who keep their studio spiffy below the stage, or the sidewalk. —

To extend the earlier road-work theme, and even learn how to do a mosh or jig or other step, bust a move down to the Short dancer studios, showing a figure much like Jagger in their promotion, but a few inches less tall. (Just kidding). There was a company doing work on the storm sewers, I think it was, again, very late for two or three nights outside, with a hose long like an anaconda down in a hole. It seems they’d in no way be caught on the short end of preparations for their ongoing open house, so all their great dancers can stand tall as they take charge of this great big, two-story building. (I will refrain from making a Tiny-Dancer-Elton-John-song joke).

Boy the 23rd and beyond (and even a bit before) hit home like none other, be it birthdays (many times over plural), various kinds of fall and food fests that included the Phipps, and then the Wild back (and the Badger) again, and more.
And I was so overwhelmed that I sat out much of it. In a way this matters: I had to “rest” up for yet another birthday, come the 29th, to round out those in the “rest” of the family, of my father.
It was about 6 O’Clock on a Saturday (the most recent) and I suddenly became very tired, as the overall nature of this weekend across the region hit me. May have had something to do with the Wild — did I first say the word World — opening up the next day and the rush followed by an anti-rush that accompanies it. Or on a related note the fact that it was so many years ago on this Saturday at PD Pappy’s that my eyes were first opened, forever, and how was it that it was not before? But more on that at a (much) future post. There is, and continues to be so much that is again new, going on.

— But the band names at Bacon Bash boggled the mind. And only started with Feed The Dog, which could be showin’ how to shoot a combo of Hair of the Dog and Hunger Strike. But likewise, the band Mojo Lemon sounded like (1) their great choice for a Happy Hour fruity drink and (2) the second coming of this combo, Mojo Nixon and John Lennon. They even add Kevin Lombardo to like-sounding five-letter five-star-or-so acts. But bacon, as it does not spoil easily, will be seen in dishes Everlast. Keep that in mind further food fanatics for another foray-day far beyond just the fest. Scroll down to the next headlined post. And see the whole slate, in Picks of the Week, and beyond. —

But Saturday night’s sleep was not sound, although in degrees deep. So I hit the couch. At length, the daylight neared. And it was about now that The Good People Of The City were returning from the various forms of New Richmond fall fest, and there were occasional small, clunky sounds, from the Kidz in the Hallz. They and their parent or parents do not go out much, but like so much of this area, when they let loose …
Come actual daylight, the bumps and dweebles ebbed.
But since there is enforced (to various degrees by municipality) a semi-sonic closing time of 2:30, where did all those people go? I’d bet around the region. Because there was Bacon Bash and more music in River Falls, and thence between there and here and its German fare, the Oktoberfest as celebrated with house brew(s)in Hudson. Where there is Perkins/Denny’s that are, by turns, open 24 hours, to pack in more pounds with things like their great cheese and yes, bacon fries, for just a few bucks. And that time you can also hit the cafe in downtown New Richmond, as a return, and if nothing else grab one of my Signs on the Wall, also known as a bulletin board. And if that was not running the circuit enough, you could have started the night before and hit the various high school and one small college football games — I recall a former neighbor talking to another early in the pandemic and noting he had not seen the Friday Night Lights yet, at around this time of year back in that day — and hoped for the blessing of flip-flop starting times and possible overtime.
And before all of this there was the triumphant (the Hudson paper and its only one true and geek-out reporter proclaimed it so!) return, for the first time, of Yam Haus to the Phipps Center Fest also held just before fall began.
And then there was the birthday thingee, that dominating the 23rd itself, getting back to that.
My mom gave birth to my one blood brother on that day, just over a month after she had done so with/to me.
What a way to celebrate your 57th! So it was told. To him. As a joke. Over the phone. If going into labor in bookmarks to Labor Day can be funny. So don’t tell it to him in person.
To wit to Tom: It all started in a hospital for both of them.
A quite hot day, the origin of this joke was, but not too many hours later it became very cold, as fall came in with wrath.
Like this year.
And back at the Wild Badger, The Question: do I look good for 40? As slippery a slope as provided by lots of body lotion, but no I can safely say that you do not, and I will not be drawn into the thorny discourse of nuance, as that battle and that’s what it is, can be won, but it usually goes very bad.
But thusly, she was wearing a sash that called attention to that very number. So there could be a (partial?) ruse and the clarification behind it, that she could be 30, but that would mess things up with one digit of her sign. So meet halfway and write on your sash 35? Just take great care not to be dyslexic.
So how do you say yes, you look 32 and want to defend that judgment, as such a thing is needed? Is it safe, or is it still creepy, to issue a complement such as this, as of course a marker for looking youthful. You have stately shoulders, or arms, (but don’t say luscious as that might going too far. And don’t directly say you love their look, as why does your opinion matter?) So be more general, and suggest it is viewed that way by most in the general public.
Just beforehand was a 30th B-Day revelry. So I will only tease that now, and come back to that story later. Maybe next year? Same time.

Bacon Bash is again here, and who better to take a bigger than life role than a BBQ eatery that has — what else? — bacon infused throughout its multi-faceted menu. And not to be bashful about catering to many hundreds, if not thousands, of visitors.
Smokey Treats Fusion BBQ claims to bring the best of all worlds, from around the world to its offerings, perfect for this weekend’s activities that have a strong tourism base and bring revelers from all over the globe. (Note that, my many Chicago readers and beyond who love their bluesy BBQ, as the Smokey Treats are globally- and regionally-inspired but still use the freshest local ingredients).
There will be pigs and such in plenty of places during the annual River Falls fest, in the park, positioned along the historic Kinni trout stream, and even flying and/or in the form of pig wings to eat, if you open your mind to the possibility. Along those lines, find the golden pig on the hunt for an added prize, one pig/prize per person. And one of the bands on the bill for Saturday afternoon, is fittingly named Feed The Dog. (For more of the weekend’s revelry, even up to the north, see Picks of the Week). And feed you too. For there’s many a restaurant waiting for you. And your beverage-challenge vote, boasting local bartenders concoctions, as to wash it down.
But it all starts Friday afternoon with bacon, included in all manner of size, around a dozen different ways by Smokey Treats, to accompany its classic pork pulled and/or hand-sliced after being slow-cooked for 12-14 hours, then add numerous sauces and flavors and rubs, and veggies and cheeses (some in the form of fried curds) and the whole nine yards. (Several other local eateries also chime in, most within a several block area).

— Here goes with the good stuff from Smokey, and not smoke and mirrors, or as they say, blowing smoke: Pulled pork topped with bacon and a full sliced bratwurst and beer cheese sauce and jalapeno coleslaw and sweet and smoky sauce on a pretzel bun, and those things on a hoagie with the added ham slices and swiss cheese and pickles and Dijon mustard, and the Bacon Me Crazy BLT with a full six slices of the B and a drizzle of pesto and garlic aioli and dusting of garlic jalapeno … —

The Smokey Treats staff says that their venue housed in Riverwalk Square but accompanied by a traveling food truck that’s as decked out as their interior, (described as fun and trendy), is supplying most if not all the bacon for the overall bash. That’s got to be about the same amount of food value as the GNP, in agriculture at least, of Iowa and Illinois put together (OK I embellish). But there’s still that hungry dog, and people too. And bring that hunger to the Smokey Treats pair of eating contests, one for kids and one for adults, starting a 2 p.m. Saturday.
This is a blow-by-blow account, bacon-wise, of what Smokey Treats provides, in no particular order as the menu is huge and multi-ingredient: Classic Ellsworth cheese curds with maple syrup to accompany its bacon bits, seasoned fries smothered in country gravy and of course chopped bacon, bacon or pork (smoked) mac and cheese, mixed green salad that includes bacon bits with pineapple Habanero sauce and also veggies, peanut butter and jealousy burger with strips of the stuff …
But here goes with the really good stuff: Pulled pork (half-pound) topped with bacon and a full sliced bratwurst and beer cheese sauce and jalapeno coleslaw and sweet and smoky sauce on a pretzel bun, and those things on a hoagie with the added ham slices and swiss cheese and pickles and dijon mustard, and the Bacon Me Crazy BLT with a full six slices of the B and a drizzle of pesto and garlic aioli and dusting of garlic jalapeno (whew!).
And many more food and drink options that even go beyond the bacon. Some of this is made possible by partnering with various other local food purveyors. (“Croix Valley Sauces and Seasonings, Ellsworth Creamery and Lift Bridge Brewing are just some of the neighborhood businesses we work with to bring people together through food.”) And isn’t that what such a bash in all about?
So if you want to sit down and have your bacon and eat it too by having it served to you tableside, or flag down the food truck for something you can carry as you go and check out all the other festivities and music, or want to really pig out (in a good way), or just want the bacon-based sandwich version of a traveler steak, you now know how to go whole hog.

There is another newer restaurant serving something special during Bacon Bash. From its base just east of Hudson, Paddy Ryan’s Pub (make mine a Boxty) has also branched out to the south end of downtown River Falls, and will for its first time around for the annual fest, celebrate with an offering of classic meatloaf with beef and pork and cheeses … and of course some bacon. All given its usual topped-off-in-an-Irish-way. But they’ll bring lots of their creation to the main headquarters of Bacon Bash, down in the park, just for this weekend, although staying back at it in their newer location of the former Mainstreeters.

The tale of the tape is told by (size of) jerseys in a sport where, you know, they wear them. And the local fans are still sporting these sweatshirts, with fall coming, despite a recent fight result of shirtless men — with one of them falling hard — that you might think would dissuade them.
But two former all-star running backs have rushed to a new sport, boxing, so do not put them in a box. Just in a ring. With some other YouTubers on a fight bill that did not include the Buffalo Bills. But an ex-Viking and ex-Steeler. And other teams in-between.
A for-a-change-partially-punchless Adrian Peterson should have bottled it, but waiting on the sidelines is not his way, when he flat-out knocked out his sparring partner months ago … and then the fight got postponed! Turns out Adrian himself in a main event got cold-cocked in the fifth round, as midnight neared in some pay-per-view areas, with an unusually brutal, straight right fist.
He sported no more Viking horns to protect him, like a pocket passer. But hey at 37 years, Adrian gave up a full seven years, so forget the import of the tale of the tape and give the man some credit, like when he ran roughshod over safeties, not fullbacks. Couldn’t ring the other guy’s bell. (But he did make it five rounds, although that’s not as much of a chore for someone who has played almost two decades when you include college). As the opponent’s name was Bell. Certainly not Belle. Leave that all to the linguists.
(Three other Google listings for the elder of the two rushers including Doug and spelled Pederson, who was an — ouch — Green Bay Packer and a QB not an RB. Adrian’s up for anything, so he might try R&B).
So next it may be soul. Or rock and roll. For full royalties. As for this time around, it was good that a charity collected plenty of money. But Adrian only walked away — after hitting the canvas hard — with $15,000. His money troubles have been well documented, and for the next party, I don’t think that with inflation it’ll rent a camel for his next party — slightly inside joke.
But No. 28 jerseys could still be seen all over the day following the night fight, and the next weekend where his alma mater faced those dreaded Packers. Almost as many as for Aaron Rodgers, No. 12, who was seen in both green and white as the primary color, home vs. away, but could not conjure up a victory over the Vikings. And a few off those always seen obscure jerseys relying on past greatness. (Rodgers did do much better in the following weekend, against those also dreaded Bears fans seen in the sports bars). But back to the opener, a new friend who is a server and wore Adrian apparel, was taken with great surprise that there even was a boxing match with him front and center, as if behind center. She did give me a high five when I presented the news about the TKO.

We as the Irish and our ilk are halfway home. So if you can’t wait another six months for a full-blow St. Patrick’s Day to come around, the option for you might be the exactly half-year-later-in-spacing, St. Patrick’s Day event at, fittingly, the Shamrock in New Richmond, all around a true Irish enclave.
On Saturday, it gets going at 6 p.m. That’s the 17th, if you’re counting. Its around the time that musical guest Trandy Blue comes on. More below on why if you’re Irish, or just Irish leaning, you really want to book here, or check her out.
And if what you want out of your drink(s) is a really cheap thrill, so to speak, this seems the way to go. The best opportunity you will have to make your call Fireball.

— Yes the world is — again — on fire with war. A crazily exacting heavy metal song just might have predicted what’s now on tap, about 40 years later. See Uncategorized. In a theme so timeless, across all countries, I did not change-up the headline. —

I have a few friends, some in low places, who just can’t seem to get the party started without first enjoying a shot of Fireball to warm their autumn hackles. So at the Shamrock you can get it during this special, once or twice a year event — for you who are going sans Irish with some of your selections of (cool?) whiskeys — for a mere $2.50. That’s a savings of over half under the price of most venues, which can be $6.50 or more. (So no firewall for Fireball). There also are other drink specials that fall along these lines. So Irish whiskey and brews are not the only way to go, although they obviously have those as well. And there is an attached drive-through liquor store to get those things and more, and keep the party going after you get home.
The regularly recurring prize giveaways on Saturday fall into more than the usual one or two categories. And yes you Irish, some of the bounty are drinks.
As for Trandy Blue, she sometimes goes as a redhead, and her style is very ditty-friendly, not just trendy. Two of her standards are Me and Bobby McGee, which she reportedly nailed upon first try back in the day, and Mr. Jones, in which she showcases her rich voice that has just a twist of tang. Blue paints with her guitar and voice plenty of Irish pubs around the region, and does frequent gigs in the New Richmond area.
Other regional venues have only been on and off with this annual September skirmish, and had cut back during the pandemic.
Then two blocks up the block, at Nootz and Oz, there is Friday night’s celebration of a grand reopening of both the bar, and a huge mural on the side wall, with both being even bigger than a tennis court. Just the words New Richmond will bring it up to near the size of a doubles version. Inside, there is a chance to win a killer and all-consuming BBQ grill that’s all in black.

There will no doubt be a pretty good crowd for a Sunday, as the NFL regular season starts with a double whammy that in these parts is embodied by one true game — Packers versus Vikings.
So this is not only an opener, but an event. Great fodder for a party. Or what might as well be a picnic, fall style. Over easy appetizers, and not just the house fare at the sports bar and by the sports bar.

— News break: A neighbor was out walking Rover or some other name of dog while sporting a Rodgers jersey. At about the time the first quarter was coming to fruition. For some reason I think of, “does the tail wag the dog.” Since Green Bay was soon down 17-0, in part because one of the new and anointed by Rodgers himself trio of new receivers, and one of them dropped a sure TD pass. So I must get back to that dog. Small. Portly. Maybe should workout more with more walks: So, that’s a message to those newbie wide-outs, deep and wide, who apparently could use to work out to a much greater degree. Don’t want to raise Rodgers royal wrath, especially if, you know, he’s in a bit of the wrong stoner mood … But there will always be another game day and one more Packer-Viking game, as they meet twice a year, so see below on where to go from here, especially later in this season. So for this day and the now triumphant Purple over Green, it would be a home opener for you to see, for one of the teams, any which way. —

Various places will offer drink specials, of course, some sporting the team colors of not only Green or then Purple, but maybe even Tequila colored Gold (done twice?) Or just have a Bud. Or Miller. Or jersey colored jello shots here and there. (Served by a shot girl?) Or beer that is cheaper by the bottle when served in “Buckets.” (See below).
But that is old NFL hat. Who is also picking up the ball and running with it — in the long tradition, now on and off, of the Mallalieu Inn in North Hudson — by offering in addition a potluck, bring a dish and get other ones to sample, but there may be perchance a guideline that you not haul in lefse or lutefisk, unless you have loads or loaves of it to share? More likely to resemble a chili feed, or hotdish fest in an unusually jovial nod to the Scandahoovians?
Why the venue is T-Buckets between Somerset and Stillwater, thus taking in both ends by being proximate to both states, like being on the 50-yard line rather than seated in back of an end zone. This annual event will be a lowkey — for them — outing that is mostly the realm of their regulars, but they won’t kick out a visitor — unless maybe from contested Chicago Bears country (just kidding). Its just friends sharing stuff like a beer and a brat-based bowl, which of course means they slap each other on the back, not the face. Big rivals come together over football, we could use more of that. And this has been one of few venues to actually take the next step and list the season’s first Game Day as a separate event from the regular football fare, and bill it as such.

— But concerning such a western Wisconsin grid of games, a driver friend of mine who needs to run this whole circuit daily has made it clear. There will be no leaving at the two-minute warning even if its a Green Bay blowout. As far as driving, he will pick it up again only after the final whistle blows, thank you. —

So since this is a marquee late-afternoon game, you will have those few extra minutes to hit such a legitimate roadhouse. But if you crave other bars crammed into a small, rather than open, series of spaces and form basically a huddle, you might try downtown Hudson and its several sports bars within just a few blocks. The rub here is that the farther inland you go from the St. Croix, and up Hwy. 35 which is also the main drag, the less Viking friendly it is, although it is (mostly) a friendly rivalry. Further north means less Norse, so more unlikely to see Packer and Viking schedules linked together on the wall right next to each other. Packers usually on the left? So for Skol, historically your best bet has been Dick’s or Ziggy’s, from back when it was Pudge’s. On the geographical flipside, where throngs clamor for the specials, is the Smilin’ Moose. People come all the way from Minnesota, largely, to this popular bar founded by Twin Citians, to watch a game that is played once a year in their own backyard. In the 2022 opener, it is indeed in the Twin Cities.
The sports bars in North Hudson are well-known to be Packer bars, basically only, although Purple People have not been eradicated. The Village Inn and Kozy Korner have been the big two. They’ve long been the best place to find a likeminded “Badger” football-based brew, down to the red and white stripes on the bottle, and yes it boasts an actual Badger in the form of its mascot, and that means the bottle’s art has — bear with me as I Badger you — a great big paw sporting the colors.
But if you come via Stillwater, also, and do not follow the tried and true freeway that leads you almost to the door of T-Buckets, but jog a few blocks north off the exit ramp, there is the Next Stop tavern that is about as bi-colored as you will find on this grid concerning gridiron hues. The venue, for the record in Houlton, is no stranger to specials during square-offs, their website shows a server delivering a cheesy sandwich loaded with hot peppers, and the other half of the plate is fried cheese curds, and topically, that server was wearing a Packer jersey. It was either No. 5 or 6, couldn’t tell exactly.
But concerning such as grid, a driver friend of mine who needs to run this whole circuit daily has made it clear. There will be no leaving at the two-minute warning even if its a Green Bay blowout. As far as driving, he will pick it up again only after the final whistle blows, thank you.

She was considered a rock whose not to roll, putting her own (compared to counterculture?) Queen-ship to the standard.
Despite more sophisticated media systems, news can come out late, in what is a publisher’s worst nightmare.
The Royal Family announced that their Queen was ill only a couple of days before announcing her death. Did she have her handlers as well?
She was soon revered as a Mom, GM and GGM. So then, as all men, give them a brief, and I’m sure it will not actually be, break from the public eye.
So God Save The Queen (guess not) … And God Save us all! That in fact, despite the old news borne by the Sex Pistols, and superlative singer in Bruce Dickinson, also a Brit, about the monarchy not being what it used to be, somewhat oddly, in their youth.
Finally now, 2022, Charles is the new King. But maybe since I’m not a Brit in anyway in any way, and not to show disrespect at this moment, I have thought it may be time to take them off what has to be a massive payroll and expense account — can you defrock actual royalty?
Is it perchance a Brave New World time to make a clean break?
Yes, we have seen many examples of the royal family’s public service, but can’t it be done more cheaply?
Cheap? That wouldn’t be Mum’s status; always serene, filled with grace and elegance.
And even her own style. It never seemed as dated as it should have logically been.
And what of all those British rockers? Who gets condolences out there first, even if needing to take a break from touring and all the various productivity killers that go along with it.
So when do you use Caps? As in Her Majesty, or go the route of The Honourable …
Such a clamoring has not seen since:
Kennedy? Lennon? Cobain? Prince?
Elvis? We still aren’t all sure.
And can’t forget Lady Di.
So to all of you, and Jeannie too, if you wanted to be queen, maybe now is your best shot, albeit in the form of a 73-year-old balding man.
And who rose first to give the final and boldly gone farewell? NASA.
So now, on another front, we’ll discuss the state of actively rising, which of course will inevitably mean falling.

So is “Rising” to the occasion, the operative word, for today?
Oh, and another, and it fits with the theme is simply, “actively.” Or not that way.
The latter can also be linked in a sentence to “hiring.” And for you English majors, the word choice is between adverb and verb. If you are a minor in it, just pick one, or substitute “very” to get an adjective in there.
Just wordplay? Could be. But these thoughts are gleaned from the signs of area businesses.
There is the proviso that when entering a given establishment, you should not be “actively” carrying a firearm. Apparently, if you are doing it inactively — holstered or with the safety on? — its OK. That’s a loaded statement, as it could involve a loaded pistol.
And another place of business, says it’s OK to enter with a — holstered — pistol, just be extremely judicious in its actual use. And especially so in any such marksmanship, so make sure you are shooting straight. Or you won’t be in an shape to return and use your rewards card. Or get out of jail free card. Sorry To Some In The Country Crowd.
Up the tempo, guns or not, if some want to hire you. And concerning use of both of those two buzz words, the bread and more company named Rise, and not just the dough, presents and maybe presides over, and resides in, all variety of titles that take the same name and type, as in songs, bands and albums and/or cassettes and/or CDs. So Rise Again, as many times yeast is a good thing. Or depending on your dietary status and band preference, Rise Against. But what would inactive rising, and hiring, have earlier been — one might think hiking the minimum wage? Would have needed more of this, to be the one who bought this.
And some places, if say an employee or two got dinged, the firm would then need to be “actively” hiring? Start today?
It seems that because of volume, wholesale hiring might be needed by the company that had those killer Labor Day mattress sales, as stated below, called Nectars. More sweet then the tears you’ll cry when being newly away from home as a student, termed bittersweet.
As long as we are on the topic of local businesses and topical death: His classic guitar is long(er) gone — as in sold — from the venue’s front window, and so Elvis has left the building reads the sign. And with it the Father, Son and Holy Ghost … as they have caught the last train for the coast. And with it is the smokeshop that had been housed and sold in back. Could this be seen as weening out the (of sorts) weed??