Hey Hudson, your own HudsonWiNightlife is doing a community service for … HudsonWiNightlife.
A few of you long-suffering try to find my website patrons, have written to say they can’t locate it at times, on their social media device. The answer is out in space, that is as far as the spacing is concerned.
As usual, Joe has to explain his joke. If you enter that website name and use a space or two, it may or may not call up. Try entering it in all one string, sans spaces. (And case sensitive does not appear to be an issue, this case).
To take it a step further, there are 61 and growing followers on my Nextdoor online “group” for the Village Of North Hudson, but somehow, there was a space inserted into the heading they have listed, just one, into the string. This does not appear to be problem in this specific case. But if you are one of those few, just in case …
And also, there are a select few social media devices that will not pick me up! Bad joke. But to continue that joke, if you are having trouble, ask the cutie next to you if you could look me up on their device. Conversation starter. And try to be as well versed as you can — although this is getting ahead of ourselves — on the punch line. If it flies with them, you have my permission, minus all those unnecessary disclaimers as I’ll cull them out since reading my website can be that important … and if the humor tanks, likewise, just blame it on me. One more community service, to hook you up and stay connected!

The two latest performers to pass on were much alike, and also much different, as played out with local fans and singers of their songs.
Actor/comic Bob Saget and musician/actor David Bowie pushed the envelope, but in different ways, and in what of it was out there in the public. And their visual appeal was at bookends, but shared a feminine look, which was used for both art and satire — we won’t even mention the late Betty White and Hot in Cleveland as that would be outside the two-state Minnesconsin area.
(And before I go further, let me reference the death of Clyde Bellecourt, an leading American Indian advocate based in Minneapolis. I once did a lengthy interview with him on his own turf, a small, unassuming single-story building in an unassuming part of south Minneapolis. What this place he used as an office lacked in high-class, it made up in colorful decor from his culture. This was a social justice from-the-region story that was run nationally long before the days of Black Lives Matter and the like).
When taking a bow for Bowie, karaoke is how I’ve always done it, singing as poppy as I get with Fame and all the vocal orchestrations that were really novel at their time. I’ve done it on many a night, especially years back at what is now the Nutty Squirrel in River Falls, then it was Bo’s ‘N Mine, loving to do on the long descent of that word mid-song. I also was intrigued watching some early morning TV and finding Bowie had penned a rockish opera that was strongly religion based.
As if it needs saying, HudsonWiNightlife has anointed Ellie as the semi-official western Wisconsin queen of Tic Toc. Her daily postings quickly gained a huge following, and this attention to quick detail shown forth when she had two postings on Saget within the day after his death. That speed Tic Tocing is second to only Weird Al Yankovic, who did something similar in volume and comedic-quality-haste a day after a debate, based on the debate, between Trump and Biden.
Some local fans of both Ellie and Saget say he had an alter ego to his family fare, doing very riske comedy that at times was self-deprecating, and upon hearing it were turned off. (Are you listening Miley Cyrus?) Did he push it too far and really tick someone off? Be careful about proceeding in this fashion, especially these days, HudsonWiNightlife.

So just when you thought the merriment and the leftovers that come with it are toast, so to speak, there’s the lingering possibility of yet another holiday party, such as maybe even the one for your office, if Covid does not take root — so another fruitcake. Or more Christmas cookies. Both with crust getting way too “crispy.”
Even now, after that latest shindig, you may find yourself with leftover foodstuffs that although favorites do not really combo-up foodwise — except in Joe’s brain. Here’s how to make the most of many of them, again by supplementing with what’s in your fridge already, although its maybe a stretch, moreso than your burning off New Year’s fat with fitness.
We’ll start with those deviled eggs, oh so cool, that just need their tartness rehabbed. Top with just a bit of my favorite, horseradish, and in this case the sauce is better than the straight minced vegetable. Or possibly bacon bits, and maybe for this example try to use the real ones, or thin ham slices. Finely diced red bell peppers, or the same scant texture of their lookalike, pimento anyone? Or just a touch of the green bell variety. And how about onion chopped very small. A tad of curry? Or in the realm of so hot its cool, hot sauce/chipotle. Cauliflower bits also for those bold, and celery, with a dab of ranch dressing gleaned from your favorite buffalo wings dish and then spread?
If cookies are plain and hardened, or you have only vanilla wafers, drizzle with honey or even maple syrup, (only have pancake variety?) or both, top with cinnamon or brown sugar or both, then heat in the microwave 25 seconds so they all mingle, but don’t got lost in your last Christmas carol and heat them so long they get too soft. The same treatment can be given Graham crackers in the morning. And now this in, from Keanu Reeves, add peanut butter that is preferred to be crunchy not creamy, and OK, he is not in my office being interviewed, he’s on TV with Stephen Colbert.
Plain tortilla chips — sans the salsa you used up — can be just that, so in an odd couple indeed, break those and also potato chips into pieces and mix into the same large bowl, flavors such as garlic and onion, sour cream and cheddar, dill pickle (with a bit of actual dill seed or mustard seed sprinkled on if you’ve got it), and a much smaller portion of big-flaked BBQ. Two flavors in your mouth are better than one, and also three if your eyes by now are too bleary to decipher. (Can we call it trail mix?)
All this may not please the youngsters, and you are at wit’s end, unstress through catharsis by taking in the band Them Pesky Kids this Friday, Jan. 14 at Ziggy’s. I’d bet a combo of Beastie Boys and Ugly Kid Joe, and a hefty dose of Kid Rock. Then its Audio Circus the following night, and when staff along with owner were putting up prominent promo posters mid-week, they were folded as to spell out the last three letters and form “Dio.” I doubt there will be that much metal.

Even well after New Year’s, the holiday display of big, long and multi-colored neon pipes (forever?) glowing were still reflecting the Light Of The World, and spelling out belatedly Merry Christmas to I-94 eastbound passersby just this side of St. Paul.
That beacon might be Hudson, where the downtown pushed thousands of partiers — most from Minnesota — through its halls and streets to ring in the New Year, with many arriving at the late hour that would be the normal closing time, and even a couple of hours beyond that, bolstering the total. A spike in numbers kept growing as the night went on — even as the cold continued to mount, reaching minus 16 toward the bitter end, and that is temperature, in Fahrenheit, not wind chill, which made the number even worse. But the cold finally gave customer traffic numbers a boot to the head come this weekend.
But on the Eve …
The spacious Hudson Tap was packed completely full with patrons, even more than usual by far, even though midnight was still waiting around the corner. The most noticeable look among bartenders was some earrings that looped and dangled down for more than two inches down the neck. A manager who is now a mommy had some time ago taken down her nose ring, passing that torch to staff. We hope that if there was any kind of direct transfer of rings, which I doubt heartily, hefty doses of disinfectant were involved. So if that is your kind of cool look, it still lives!
Despite the elements, there were some women going, and here I go again, bare midriff. (I told one server with such a look, and even shorter, that such dress is brave when its below zero, even if she’s behind a tub of beer, albeit swimming in ice. Her smile told the tale). That type of top along with, and especially, cloth leggings has replaced the Little Black Dress on New Years Eve.
A man and another man and a coatless woman ambled up to the main drag. “Where is the Smilin’ Moose? Is that it over there?” It had been just across the street the entire time. So how do people get away with showing skin on such a frosty-and-beyond New Year’s Eve in downtown Hudson? In stark contrast to the expanses that stretch on for blocks in places like the Minneapolis Warehouse District — what can be seen as the long and the short of it — a large series of Hudson bars over four blocks means you can park and patronize various of them without ever being out in the cold more than a block. Or even less.
Then there was the guy in a short-sleeved shirt — not the only one I’d seen but thank God for the collar — and a perky-in-the-right-place woman, walking along the main drag and talking about … how frigid they both were. Their destination, the Moose, had a heater pumping just over the top on the first step to get in, so maybe there could be a New Year’s kiss.
Inside that doorway, in a vestibule, the action heated up as many people tried to pass ID check and go dance. One man who looked a bit like a gangsta was let through right away — forget no wallet, no entry — as the doorman apparently knew him, and his character, we’re assuming. Another woman eventually managed to work her way inside, even though it seemed her ID was fishy. Even though she was already inside, she tracked down a friend/boyfriend/relative to vouch for the veracity of her ID, which she did at length with him. Uhm, he then had a shot at revisiting his initial decision to grant entry … so just retreat!
Others who came in were literally shaking off the cold, causing their voiced complaints to become a string of gibberish/exclamations. Even a guy in classic Minnesota flannel was shivering, verbally and physically. In an unusual twist from what you will inevitably see on any given night, nobody was being carried on the shoulders of their man, like a long lovely dancer might, going down main street. Perhaps inside? Despite the bitter cold, there were a few people who were sitting on the concrete outcroppings outside and conversing, (isn’t that what the balmier bar-rail is for?), thus stretching out bare legs. At least they weren’t like the woman with open-toed sandals where the pink toenails were quickly turning purple.
Back at Dick’s Bar, an older man who had not been out for a while was dancing slowly with stylish and carefully orchestrated moves. I told him he looked much like a younger Clint Eastwood or Keith Richards, both facially and how he shifted his feet. He really liked the comparison, especially the one to the latter performer. He added that he would not make it to the midnight ring-in, since that was before bedtime, and even 10 p.m. might be pushing it.
He was a one-timer, and there were some noticeable absences on the scene, most vital being Maya and some her friends, of either gender, who are or were regulars. In particular was someone I had not seen for years, but then had twice in December, as among her crew, at least she has been very cautious about Covid.
You could have stayed at home, and taken in a movie marathon. Even up to this date, the Microsoft Store is offering access to “revisit” the best of 2021 — and only in today’s immediate gratification society could going back a few months be “retro.”
Lastly, a backwards plug: Have have you or a loved one been negatively impacted by combat ear plugs, the ad asks? As a warm fuzzy (yeah right) reward, treat yourself as a New Year’s resolution — just do it! — to a Type O Negative combat-in-the-mosh-pit concert, as your plugs will not filter out that much stark-thumping noisy rock. Then take in the White Stripes live and Icky Thump, or as a downtown license plate said, Icky Trump?

If you are braving it out there tonight to ring in the New Year, you will probably be OK as far as temps at that point. If you stick it out to the usual closing time of 4 a.m. that might be a different story.
Right now, just after 8 p.m., the temperature is about that number of degrees, nine to name it. May not drop that significantly between now and midnight, but four hours after that, it could be as low as or feel like 16 below or worse. So that last 3 a.m. secondary-ring-in at the Smilin’ Moose could be beholden to temps like you might see up north in true moose country, (and not the old St. Paul area venue). But as the cabbie acknowledged with a slight nod worthy of Santa, even when it comes to The Frozen (drinks?) those who have been drinking want to stay drinking as long as there are cool dancers, despite the cold.
Bear through it all like you have seen on a flashing — fittingly — sign at TMS Auto, which has not only two different ways to say Happy New Year, but dispersed between them images of a series of explosions — the fireworks kind, for effect, not your transmission in this cold.
And if you survive it until tomorrow, take in the small band — as you can’t fix much for this price — Free Glue at Urban Olive and Vine come 6 p.m. For all those Xmas toys that have come apart from being overplayed.
Can’t overplay it, Happy New Year!

Sometimes if you “do it” long enough you “do it” well. Like a rock band. KISS comes to mind, as well as lots of danceable stuff.
So for New Year’s Eve: Got there. Done that. Here’s the tried and true, for a decade or two, then some relative newcomers who could do worse then to emulate them:
— By sheer standards of people dancing, to unabashedly dance tunes, over years of consistency, you go to the Smilin’ Moose. They are adding a second ringing in of 2022, at 3 a.m. to keep it rolling forward, as they like so many Hudson area clubs are staying open until 4 a.m. This isn’t your Daddy’s New Year’s at the old Dibbo’s, where they would never shut down until … If? When? Brunch and far beyond.
— Dick’s might usher you out a bit earlier, using an often hastily called last call, but that is OK because their music is again, Starting Back At 4 p.m., led by the latest duo fronted by gentleman Josh. Later, the tunes take on a creative often-mixed-song DJ sound. A good dozen hours of tune based enjoyment.
— The Bungalow Inn in Lakeland digs even deeper into their vault of history with another show by Gary LaRue, enabling a waltz-size dance floor to be filled. A great list of wines is there, as always. Like Dick’s, there are food specials too, so you may still need to make reservations.
— The Gas Lite in Ellsworth has all such things, so it might be worth it to go south of my home-base border town to live it up. They’ve also had your back by keeping the latest hours possible all through the holidays and come the Eight O’Clock Hour on NYE, there’s the holiday rarity of a rock band, Coconut Tiger, and theirs with a touch of glam. It is also billed as Alicia’s birthday, so there are two things to wish her, so stop in. And while there, try out the special holiday dart tournament. Prizes for more than only Alicia.
— T-Buckets near Somerset has entered into the fray in a big way with what they play — as this newer club starts the eve early with karaoke (with DJ) — which though only a few years into existence has made its mark. And with the frequent girth of their prizes too, as a bonafide contest rides on into January/February. With price of champagne going up world-over due to short supplies, and that long NYE tradition being put on the back-burner by some venues, what is cooler as an option to ring in the New Year then with a pizza party, (of course at midnight, and I bet the chef is going to really be hopping to it come 11:40 p.m.)

But for the sheer length of such contests, at more than half a year, The Nutty Squirrel in River Falls is the One. One. Like the Metallica song, which you just might hear. Every Wednesday night there has been a series of prizes starting at $50 for first place, and then you go back at the end of every month for a shot at $300, and the grand finale is tonight and you won’t want to miss it because the anointed one will earn $1,200! You do have to have qualified on one of those earlier Wednesdays to go for the big money. So take a Shot In The Dark, via Ozzy, because here is an inside tip: In the past the sound system has been loud enough to overpower a mere mortal singer, but if you have the vocal chops as far as your own volume and can rise above it … Four figures can await.

There were carolers and online holiday wishes well into the eve on Christmas Day.
That could of served as a reminder to me on a walk down to Kwik Trip around noon on Dec. 24, as with those many who I saw along the way, I said Merry Christmas, neglecting the HH (and second Jewish HH) phrasing.
Leading those with holiday cheer was a Fed Ex driver — not just one, but two of a team. I was still across and up the street when he expressed wishes to me first — as he went around the back of his delivery truck and his partner the front and center — then repeated them a moment later. Big smiles both times. The partner ran one house ahead to get a package there, using her feet not her wheels. I wished him the same, adding I hoped he had the day off. Yes, he replied, after this last stop and perhaps two or three others.
Then there was the lady with the dog. I elected to walk straight rather than turn, so I could amble toward her as I have an uncanny weakness for canines, and I sensed such for this one in particular. The conversation went this way and that, about the importance of our animals to us almost as if they were surrounding the manger, for longer then usual.
At Kwik Trip, the crew was on in full force, as was the case for the next couple of days, with thankfully breaks in shifts slated so everyone could have their holiday, so at three of the four machines there was a big sign that said — next register over. I told the guy at the end that because of the time of year and all to remember, like last shopping lists items to bring over, that didn’t “register.” He responded: “It’s too early for that.” I didn’t know if he meant time or day, or for the overall holiday.
Cut to the night after Christmas. A cabbie said that the evening before had been pretty big, and that tonight would have been even bigger, but for all the snow coming down, followed by icy rain. As was echoed at Dick’s Bar, college students who are back home and usually are out were not the norm, although virus concerns among that crowd who can feel very invincible were not the factor, according to the cabbie. And Jeff Loven was probably not as long in the tooth, likely having quit playing at 10 or midnight.
Then things for a time got less holiday-ish.
Although Dick’s (another 365 place in town) was busy, the guys, mostly, at the bar the night before were a bit ugly, and not just like in an ugly sweater contest, it was said. Bump into you and be a bit surly, I was told, as these (holi)-days bring out stress … And up the way, a place that typically is among the most hopping, they had to be cutting staff partway. One older guy was taken to task by a woman when he undoffed his mask to quaff a bottled water. A lot of that these days, and not just during air travel. But on this night, the day was saved when a guy I didn’t even know wished me Merry Christmas (chosen words) and hugged my not once not twice but thrice.
And so then better again.
Since it was really pretty I decided to walk home. Oddly, the newly fallen snow had a crisp that gave grip to my shoes. The first thing I was was a worker on the roof of Pier 500, already, blowing off snow and maybe building on the success of their rebuilt roof from the storm of a couple of months ago. Across the street, Lakefront Park was decked out with a wider than usual variety of lights, much more than I had even seen in it, on all of the trees and all, in addition to the band shell.
All around were duos of dipsey doodles as far as swirling tire tracks from at this point as many plows as cars, and one of the former had a big snowblower loaded in its back end to match its blade, and both were put to work before it was last call down the way.
The houses along a road less traveled, as well as the main drag, had many more than usual Christmas Lights Out (and Shining) On Their Front Porches All Night Long. Even from just a few days before. Striking among them was the small porch with many dozens of small and varied do-dads of all shapes to seal the deal.
Just before the village/city bridge — under which the crispness disappeared in the snow to walk on — many dabs of decorative drizzle donned the spruce/balsams along the sidewalk, looking like both the Christmas trees and the ones out in the yard, from my boyhood home.
There also were a couple of small crosses, one understated by the fact it was hung lighted on an older metal door, and one noticed because it was formed into the shifting drifts of an intersection by another one of those plows.
Nearer to home, and I’ll stop waxing poetic at this point, a perfect rectangle was formed by a driveway made gray with sheen from shoveling at just the right time earlier that night, and then I slipped and fell backwards, for the second such time this month. Especially these snow-filled days and nights, watch your step not the slate-gray!

Just in case you missed the reference at the end of the previous headline, SCTV, the quasi-imaginary network that was the platform for a comedy show that started the careers of among others, John Candy — and you gotta love his bumbling character alongside Steve Martin in that landmark holiday fare, Planes Trains and Automobiles, but you want him to only look like John Madden and not do play-by-play as only all of my in-laws are more annoying — promised to broadcast only a sport that is the ultimate in boredom as recompense for not making lots of monetary donations. Its TV exec threatened that “on air” unless certain goals of dollars were obtained … “we’ll give you more soccer!” Take that PBS and all its Celtic Women.
It may be fitting that the exec pretended to be in a wheelchair while behind his desk, so as far as supposed level of athleticism his lack of offensive skill would be as offensive as 7-on-7 soccer going to 11-on-11 — four more defenders so even less scoring. Or from the other night the Vikings-Bears, same number of players on the field but a score more like baseball. Hey Dish, if you want to bring back offended subscribers to Channel 11, that is not the show to showcase.
With that, two more of Holiday Joe’s boredom-packed grab-bag entries:
— Is it shining brightly or a dim bulb? All the cool, and they are, ornaments given to Muddy Water’s music club and there are no blues here are snap-shotted — is that a word? — and stacked one after another on their web page as a thank you. You have to scroll down about seven times; good number for this holiday favor.
— Had to mail out a present last minute, with the main part of the gift being a package that leads off with a pair of her fave salted nut rolls, not fruit cake sticks — is that a dessert? — that brought the thickness to three-quarters inch. Caught the mail carrier just in time, where is that darned tape and I needed a lot, and he said the parcel would be returned because of being a half-inch past the thickness threshold, North Pole can’t handle the load. So I have to take it to either the Post Office or County Market, where they will demand not only added postage but required proprietary purchase of their own proprietary fruitcake. Just kidding. (I was impressed that I didn’t lose credit for the five stamps I’d already put on, figuring that with the card and a couple of cookies, I could take the stated 1.8 ounces of each small nut roll and do the math and be just under weight for the one-ounce-value-I-think stamps, each and every one. But no. Yes. No. One of the stamps was torn and would not count toward the total. But I was told that I could apply for an Each And Every Post Office Has A Scissors On Hand That Could Be The Real Culprit-Of-The-Cut Refund/Rebate/Grant. Then after I mail that in, I would only be down an added 48 cents. That only after I actually receive said refund/rebate/grant by, of course, the mail. And the mail can be slow. Pony Express takes a total 36-hour holiday, 37 if in the wrong time zone, I’m told. Huh?
OK, I do feel really bad about all the added bah humbug humor. But I hope it made you laugh and helps you gear up for a raucous New Year’s. (And if you need non-traditional cheer, see the Notes From The Beat Department). But until then, and hope you can can your Xmas merriment in a more standard way if that is your mode, sincerely, Merry Christmas.

Riding the storm out. Waiting for the thaw out. On a full moon night in the village of North Hudson winter … I’ve been thinking lately what I’ve been missing in the city.
Maybe a few inches, as in two storms later, going under the bridge that joins the two municipalities, a highway-side walkway was shoveled for the length of a football field, then abruptly ended.
That was even after the first snow of 16 inches, where crews seemed to be waiting for the two-days-later mid-week meltdown of virtually all of it, before fully hitting roads moderately traveled to clear snowy debris that could be seen most on their back parts. Let Mother Nature do the work. Neighbors initially, around noon rising, were shoveling out and said they couldn’t recall a situation where plows came out this late.
But then after midnight over a week later, I could hear the beeping of backing plows off in the distance, lending credence to a flashing Happy Holidays sign in the window of a nearby building that has long been vacant, with drifts edged way up the walls.
So after the worst of it had melted, there were two plows within the distance of a pass by Kirk Cousins — note not Aaron Rodgers — who were plying their trade. And come Saturday, and another small snow, they were whipping around the cul de sac next to my place earlier than the football games start.
But between that first 16 inches, and at bookends a storm that put us in the overall-total books at almost two feet, there was the wind-driven weather that features gusts almost reaching the triple digit mark. And wouldn’t you know it, among the damage was to a single-story village maintenance garage, that because of it needed maintenance on itself.
Welcome to the wonderful world of today’s weather.
Just in time for Christmas caroling and such. As far as non-traditional holiday music, it might only be on the 23rd, not a typical day for such tunes, but Marcus Lere will be playing at Ziggy’s. He hasn’t been on most local stages for some time, but what better time than now.
So what follows is an Xmas grab-bag of goodies:
Here is a warm fuzzy for the holiday. A friend returned home from her bartending stint to find the remnants of the windstorm — a Christmas tree ornament had been blown all the way to her front steps. Like a pet, will you please give me a home? The orb was taken out of the cold and left a special place hanging in her garage.
Santa’s secret labor clause? The story of the centuries. The Santas are in short supply this year, and even the mall kind, but especially at the Noth Pole itself. That stems from the fact there are so few elves, because of the labor shortage that even has put a freeze on up-there assembly. That leaves the Clauses with the job of wrapping up putting the toys together, and they collectively are suffering from burnout and calling in sick much of December.
Hardly anyone sends out Christmas cards and family letters anymore, so we have no way of knowing how big the litter was that Muffy had back in March. Could be that most people — of a certain age — think they can get Covid by licking the envelope, especially if is has extra adhesive.

— Some people really give a lick —

A 10 a.m. group dancing class was cancelled for the Saturday following storm one after just about everyone called in. Early Monday was the next go-round.
Then there was the great big green bean donation, seen while stocking up for your stocking stuffer(s) at Lucky’s Liquors and luck would have it those on your list, because there was that great big volume discount, six bucks off your $40 purchase when using coupon! Santa recommended because look at all the elves he has to keep happy. But now I spill the beans. On many Saturays past and also going forward, the people from Surley’s beer products are there collecting groceries for those less fortunate and addressing their holiday cheer as well, but throwing into the mix items that go beyond what you put in your bloody Mary. In those cases and others, veggies and such by the boxload!
Army and Navy played for the 122nd time, covering just barely three different century-marks, going back just before 1900. And you thought the Packer rivalry with the Bears and others was storied, and as a pinnacle, I could have seen half of the games of one, based on my birthdate, but not the other. As old as real war itself? And the Monday night meeting between the Vikings and Bears was billed as the 121st.
That bright light we saw (still) for Christmas/Halloween door decor came from an old trampoline frame, used for that purpose because it couldn’t be out there with the kids, due to the snowstorm, harkening back to that.

— A grab bag for all seasons —

In a last ode to Halloween, big skulls can still be seen on the door of that near-mansion that had a killer costume party, as well as on another door, this time to a much smaller Little Pink House just up the way. So will it be like pulling teeth to find a centuries-old vampire? There? Now? You have to be as long in the tooth as Santa.
On Halloween to start, a “body” at rest stays at rest. A body in motion stays in motion, like a wideout. A body falling into the sea … That then would be not Holy Diver, but that of a different dissent, by the Vikings on earlier Thursday night football, when they as a matter of form almost blew a 29-point lead.
The orange theme was not just, recently, the squashed pumpkin on the road that I saw in those parts, but also describes the absurd brightness of the uniforms and the faces (again) of color commentator and such on our old TV. So what do I want for Christmas? So next Halloween will be brighter? Or not?
As long as I’m harping about that past holiday, with another coming, it was when trick-or-treating that I saw very compacted car/cart/ATV was for sale and perched not along nearby Perch Lake but River Road. Think it may take until the next full moon to sell. That was the case the last time I checked the price, a howling good deal, as to the south in the Village of North Hudson you for months now have been allowed to drive almost anything in that vein on non-state-streets. As long as, these days, you can plow through with your diminutive drive.
What? Enough snow? The heating went out at a local restaurant, so they called it a day of rest. And we’re not talking about Dairy Queen and their ice cream Sundays. But on consecutive Saturdays before Halloween, a different venue offered psychic readings. So they should have know this would happen. And on the second of those days, the reading could conceivably be altered to relect that sudden chill in the room.

— Now that its the season, for, football —

So with that hard-to-freeze pumpkin as dessert, we go again with the origins of orange, as they this time refer to the gridiron. Our old TV shows most people’s lips as brightly that color, not to mention their jersey numbers. Enter the Arkansas Razorbacks, a creature that was said in our living room to be extinct, but the potency of their offense might bear news that is otherwise. And for the big pig, the one who made that comment lived down there for a stead, but as you might guess, had a pot-bellied pig for a pet. Just not quite big enough to be a danger to people, even those who are opposing linemen.
And green might also, again, be a color to be reckoned with, in the form of the Baylor (Green if not Golden?) Bears, if I get their name right; that’s what he said as the primo watcher. Can get a bit moldy from lack of playoff time for a bear to turn that color? But I was told they are now ranked No. 1. Hey, in that vein, take into account the Gopher team from across the way, enough success to scrape the crust off the sides, as in an edge rusher — see I’m listening to your knowledge Mike — but like the Vikings have one or two great seasons, but after that turn smelly like the kind of old cheese only a Cheesehead could love, think back to the 1970s. As Minnesota is led by not Lambeau or Lombardi, or even Holmgren or McCarthy, all good football names, but a man by the name of Fleck. ‘Nuf said. So bring back Bud Grant?
Also, we heard that White Bear Lake is turning bright green, usually a perk of the Pack. It appears to be catching, literally, and not just as algae.
But we steer back to orange, like clockwork. I saw an orange car, with white windows and black stripes, at the station (OK parked across the street and glowing). I swear I also saw Ginger Baker, is that a name that has a similar color connotation?
There is a key line (not lime) to a Dream Theater song that goes: “Seas increase and then fall again.” To the uninitiated, we are not just talking about the tides of the ocean here. And maybe that is part of what Led Zeppelin was driving at with their song, The Ocean. And this fit in with football as we were all gathered around the tube, then the joke: “The Vikings increase and then falter again.” But the next play was a 40-yard gain to the one-yard line. But the runner couldn’t push it in with the ball extended, so more Viking football? (They scored on the next play, but then missed the extra point). So ye (that could be me) of little faith.
Oh no, it wasn’t at Lambeau. At Starr’s Bar, in a conversation back and forth between the bartender and patrons, it was mentioned they would soon be trekking to Green bay for the football game. Uhm, it’s being played in Minneapolis. Their version of the frozen tundra, being watered down. After all, the Norse are from the north, but there is that fjord factor. And will global warming eventually melt down Lambeau for good? (Like the Packer meltdown on a recent Sunday?)
This could be good or bad or similar, come New Year’s Eve:
Yeah, the detour is finally done (or you could say toast, as so many grill and bars were effected), but the boiling-in-the-minds question is if Starr’s Bar will go back to a 2:30 a.m. close on most weekends past (not that of a 2:00 O’Clock for a more recent few), now that the traffic is not longer routed past their place directly, as had been the case for a few days prior to roads really reopening in late fall, in a last twist and turns. But on the 31st, they and most others go to 4 a.m.
See you then!

Tis the season — and the only one so don’t miss it — for the ugly sweater contests to make even things like the leisure suit seem cool again. What goes around comes around, as this a staple of the holiday season is again rearing its (ugly?) head. In a good way. Headstrong, and that might be a song you could hear.
That’s because Kozy Korner will use the occasion to make perhaps its first foray into the land of the one-man-band. This is a musical realm where such acts have put themselves out there in the last few years, but this is a first for North Hudson. But contrary to that, Kozy is old school with such dress up, or down contests for nattily clad villagers and beyond, it has held this many times before, so the party on Saturday night is not their first go-round. And to further digress, these contests are old hat for them, where for other venues in the area, it has come and gone. And now they add to it live music.
So OK, here is the moment for which you have been waiting — and reading. The one-man-band is not just an acoustic strummer, he is more like Joe Strummer — the guitarist for The Clash — in that he also plays rock (see above). And goes by the name of Steve Jacoby. And the music that starts at 8 p.m. includes prizes for first through third best (or ugliest) sweaters. And there are other prizes and drink specials, from a place that often has them for just a couple of bucks. Then look at the ad sign, you know the one, on the wall that shows a sweater of the nattiest sort, that being a decal in front that looks like a combo of a reindeer and a lighted-up house.
For inspiration, you might join the literally hundreds and do holiday shopping at County Market, and spy a manager wearing not only a stocking hat, but a combo again of Snoopy and snowflakes. And the customer being waited on had a full ensemble of such decor in her leggings and blouse.