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??

You all know I geek out about Iron Maiden … but the time has (not come) to close our eyes …
The Legacy Of The Beast World Tour has begun … and the Beast Cowers in Shame and Envy. And when it it hits the stage in The States mid-month, the truth and the shit truly hits the fan.
The new Maiden album is rewriting (the history of) music. So I do proclaim the singularly named Maiden as the most important band in human history. Many Others have their right place, but few so glaringly without a weakness. So move over Beatles and Mozart, and Beethoven and Brahms, Stones and Zep, even Sabbath and Priest, and take your place slightly aside — note the placement proclaimed — behind God’s True Maiden.
How often, yes at times, does the set list, and song placement on that list, that a heavy metal band Chooses from its vault of all almost 200 that keep on topping themselves, (note we need to give an “average” set list because there are so many things to say), determine the place in which we find our worldwide culture (more on that later). “What we (were) are and what we have become …”

— By their fruits you will know them. Or their ice cream and if you hurry from the summer job that brought you a bit of extra cha-ching, spend it at Culver’s with that new cutie from homeroom. See Pick’s of the Week. —

You could write a book on the set-list picks, and what they all mean to the state our seven-continent and more culture, but lets just take a gander at these that include the golden goose. They show among many themes the true heart of the band. Revelations. The Sign of the Cross (not what it would seem). Hallowed Be Thy Name. The Clansman (about the oppression of the Scots and broadly the recurring chant of “Freedom,” as Iron Maiden does irony, you dummy). Both are seen in For The Greater Good Of God and Where Eagles Dare (about continuing war, and specifically WWII, a fave theme for all its even-more-revealed cruelty). Then of course Two Minutes to Midnight, about the metamorphic atomic clock. “We oil the jaws of the war machine and feed it with our babies.” Close even in Japan with Aces High. Oddly missing is Rime of the Ancient Mariner, as apparently there are things these days with more immediate import then lengthy philosophy. (And this 13-minute song would be tough to make room for, given their large arsenal). Included in its stage set is an implication that a House of Asia (actually three houses) will be the newer center of the world.
But and so, like to understand all of history, we first have to back up. Although my writings are not a doomsday machine, as I’ll leave that to Ozzy, The Writing on the Wall from the Book of Daniel is the ultimate cautionary tale about the very end, and then rebirth, of humankind — somehow cramming in a new religious, political and cultural reference every few seconds — with get this, Adam feeding an an apple to Eve, not vise versa. Note that grinding of the motorcycle wheels of a trio of saviors, yielding to one of the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse, guess which one of the three or four, then fades and gives way to Revelations and Fear of the Dark. But is it really an end, or indeed Mr. Crowley … “It is time to quell the wind and rain … the one who will be King, the watcher in the ring.”

— All eras have their strengths and maybe even more surmounting challenges, but today’s seem more importantly final and oddly personal with the onset of social media and all the twists and folds of modern technology. How often, yes at times, does the concert set list, and song placement on that list, that a heavy metal band Chooses from its vault of almost 200 that keep on topping themselves … determine the place in which we find our worldwide culture. “What we (were) are and what we have become …” —

Maybe when Bruce introduces himself and the band, and changes it up depending on the concert site and how far they are into the dozens of cities, he says it best for both today and the rest of human history. (Thus follows the Aces that were High as a Pilot of the Storm of WWII … All eras have their strengths and maybe even more surmounting challenges, but today’s seems more final with the state of nuclear war and drones and “better kinds of death,” and immediate and oddly personal with the onset of social media).
Here we go, per frontman Bruce with well chosen words from some of their classic songs, (“The devil knows the time is short?), slightly paraphrased as on this Labor Day I am not laboring enough to run through the concert footage again:
It has been what, one or two or three years (before we have been before you) … These years have been f—— crazy. But tonight all of that stops, (said with theatrical pause). We have people from all over the world here tonight. We don’t care what country you are from. Or what color you are. Or what God you bow down to. Or any God … We are the brothers and sisters of Iron Maiden.

Put this way in an actual sign, there since midsummer, and could this be a temp’s nightmare/dream job? “You don’t have to be crazy to work here. We’ll train you!” A bit of corporate culture? I’m sure HR went over the joke in the sign-on paperwork, so thanks for that good humor you provide, (maybe better than I?) But really, would you not want to work in a place (spellcheck said palace) like this? In much smaller letters, fittingly down below, it puts out the pitch, to rent this sign … If there were too few, or too many, takers for the above line?
Or such workers, at a home furnishings store, could take the day off and head up north for one of the last times. “Or lets just stay home,” is a sign they’d been trying to move off the front window shelf. (It was there then gone, then there again). Or maybe Jump In The Lake, and The Lake Is My Happy Place. In that case, two out of three ain’t bad.
Then The Next Place Over, try our acquatic (I think you could guess that from what comes) and sooth-away pain and indoor pool for therapy. The sign is below an accountant’s office, not so fitting? Herbal supplement/food freaks trying to get the right mix aren’t the only ones to be bean-counters.
As this is what I assume an accountant does, if the tip jar goes awry at the restaurant: Cook the books. (Just kidding).
Down the way in the same block, little scrim signs for you and me warn both a pesticide-application-zone-stay-out-because-your-very-life-depends-on-it and do-not-dig-here-because-of-cable-concerns-that-include-but-are-not-limited-to-your-life-depends-on-HBO. Not to mention the one that says you can get the utmost-minus-all-additives-(non-healthy?)-corn-cobs. Are you all ears?
So hey, as the offer from corporate says, go float on a glazer, (down the Apple River on a tube that is not like the flask of such flavored booze you hawk?)
So is the essence of the inner tube dragging along as we near the end of summer, although there is still plenty of summer left. So whatever floats your boat. Or glacier?
Yes, despite a continental divide, this is my hometown and slightly beyond it Kwik Trip, with their all sorts of such merchandize, with offers like this, but time will at some point march on, way beyond March, as we try to avoid the (late-night) donut hole that comes with shorter nights. And the bigger the glazer donut, the bigger the hole.
And this next one should never be put Down In A Hole. So to pump and honor the Ukrainian flag, it turns out we have to incorporate Hinduism. A family in my family for awhile flown their Ukrainian version — although the Stars and Stipes was never front and center in their yard — and I’d be curious which one in the family came up with the idea. I was told that across the street there was another such marker, from being across the world just as far. A Hindu family with a Hindu flying version.
When I visited I never saw either of those, much less Old Glory. Did something happen, with the nuances of the politics of the day or how it was viewed or other such thing? Or maybe such things just limited their shelf life. But there should never be such a thing.

If you thought they couldn’t roll it out further, with a barrel of fun, and at The GasLite couldn’t follow-up on an adept August?
Just behold only three days into the next month in Ellsworth. On Saturday, Sept. 3.
It’s the Annual Run Whatcha Brung. Enuf said. What kind of killer ride you gonna contribute to the rally? There have been literally dozens of such things on the not-so-mean street lately. (More on that, and how far the trend goes, in a later post. But maybe you will see some of these, with many numbers of wheels and wheelies, while at The GasLite?)
Then after just five more days — Thursday, Sept. 8 and Friday, Sept. 9 (INDOOR STAGE). Its KONG — Monsters of Rock (emphasis was not added by me). The big-time, big-top, over-the-top music theme has been played out many times, but not like this.
Then the day of overlap. Friday, Sept. 9 and Saturday, Sept. 10, its back to 1990, the 32nd annual SCVR CHILLY FEED (again their caps without gaps, and get that ride out again). Advanced Tickets ON SALE.
Then another, a week later, only midway into the month, this time a different kind of ride. Saturday, Sept. 17 — TRUCK PULL.
More info to come, they say. Of course.

— This just in, as I fall into place. The local legend Jorgensons have again reinvented themselves, in a number of ways that almost rivals Madonna, and this remake of a tried and true set of standards now features this lineup change: Tim J of course, shown in promo photos way off to the left, and also a pair of women and two men. Diversity speaks and/or sings, as that’s where the women usually come in. The upshot is that they play Ziggy’s in downtown Hudson on Saturday night, for the first time of the new version of Jorgensons there or almost anywhere in the region. —

And with all that said, got to invoke the Sturgeon Nationals on the 17th on Yellow Lake, where the top fish could top off at upwards of 170 pounds. And the world record is even greater by a few pounds, and I believe that may have come from The Other End Of The State, where I a couple of times petted sturgeons and their leathery-sandpapery skins that had beached themselves on the Wolf River so they could mate. Laid out so they could get laid, due to this narrow and winding stream. Want more of this and enter the fishing contest, making it more contested from the usual crew? Bobcats in New Richmond can hook you up.
But we also must look forward to Oktoberfest (spelled German way), from this — ouch! — 100 percent German. A newer face of a bartender was wearing her shirt last night sporting a Muchen fest — and that’s the Deutsch, with at the top of the U that funky thingee, as if buttoned-up Germans can do very funky, as she indeed can with the regular fist-clasp — and for sure not a munchkin. (I joked with her that since my germanely German family has traced its history back to when each and every one came over in the boat circa 1860, there may have been that aberational sort from Tanzania centuries prior. And don’t those centuries cry!)
And I, like much of my music, must reference the end of a previous entry below, that being MLK, as far as the Deutsch component. You can look it up.