Here is a grab-bag of goodies to grip and grin now that we’ve seen another new year, basing their precedence on the past, sometimes way past, (I tried to post this under Blasts From The Past, but being the non-techno twerp I am about technology, it may have appeared here instead. And just maybe it will show up in that other place anyway ..?)
First, the canned music (HudsonWiNightlife still fits in references to tunes, when logical or sometimes illogical), that’s a substitute while you’re waiting for when there again are concerts, and also has you waiting when on hold for the drug store to get those things to enjoy at such concerts, features this advice: Some of the most popular NewYear’s resolutions are to quit smoking and go on a diet. But aren’t those at odds with each other? We’ll have to wait and see.
There is a web entry, not on ours unfortunately, listing the 50 most beautiful people alive (thus no Goths, I assume, as you will often get that here). Starting at the top, Miranda Kerr came in at the Five-Zero, but we doubt she is the bride of Steve Kerr, as he was a solid but unspectacular point guard for the Chicago Bulls of an era dominated by Michael Jordan, (I worked in the Chicago suburbs for a year, so I know the sway that holds). She also was a Victoria’s Secret “Angel” in 2007. So why this reference here? Another top model and fellow brunette, Heidi Rayder, from River Falls just down the way, was atop their VS runway about five years prior to that. Age is served, in a beautiful way.
As served up are the glowing bunny heads on the garage door on Fourth Street North — no wait, the thingee that makes the display go is cockeyed and has them pointed upward to right under the roofline.

<<News break>>With The Misty Morning and its snow came even more “challenges” for flags. One of these — although not Old Glory — was still seen pulled sideways to near its limit from a past windstorm, when it hooked to a branch and oddly extended westward. The U.S. variety of flags that were up in the area, however, along with that Brew Crew banner, were frosty and stiff. I’m not quite Dr. Sheldon Cooper, but read all about the proliferation of flags that in many cases have been up since well before the elections, and although being taken up and down, have so far stood the test of time by simply being big, moreso than the vast majority of candidates. See it in the Notes From The Beat Department.>>
Sledding was back in vogue, whether in a park or going down a length of steep yard, as Global Warming takes a hiatus for the holiday and the snows came and stayed, like in old times, when Odd Uncle Sid insisted they rose to the height of the Empire State Building — that was before the Sear’s Tower, (bloated Chicago reference again). And so it has been for building snow forts. The next guy over helped his children construct one of these, then go for a second one, then place a wider-then-thusly-named, wooden two-by-four to take advantage of forming ice and prop it up even more. Next to the walkway to their porch was and is a small snow creature with more-to-the-point holiday stuff hung on it. And at the other end of the cul-de-sac something that hasn’t been seen for a few years, at least this early in winter — children playing king on the hill, the snow base being as high as the basketball hoop in the aforementioned neighbors yard, made possible by the village plows.
Before he was such a king, Santa Claus was, well, Santa Claus. Now that he is back on holiday, he recommends this treasured music collection, before we give it up for Valentine’s Day, to keep his legacy moving forward … 74 Minutes of your faves of Christmas, and that would be akin to the length of a Guns ‘N’ Roses concert when Axl finally shows up. He has chubby cheeks beaming, and why not, he has a drink in his hand and chubby toes in the sand, not to mention mistletoe on his cap visor. Smiling Like Brand New, just like he was when pictured with a dance line dancer on his lap in the old Hudson Star-Observer — a correlation pointed out by the photo taker Randy Hanson who is now also retired — say Hi Randy, Hi Randy! — and was given so much grief by parents I don’t doubt he opted out at 62, and he is probably thinking about my post-dated mention, here we go again! But don;t call him yet tonight, he’ll call you.
Lastly, the Pizza King lives beyond Dick’s Bar and Jeff Loven cameos and has been seen at Starr’s Bar as one of the Village People, and as a leader in the long-continuing rehab of that Little Ol’ House on Monroe Street. A look-alike also has been spotted elsewhere, including a gig as a paid spokesperson for … I don’t remember what. But there is only one Pizza King; it would be like comparing Tombstone to Tostitos!

As we walk on down that road, out shadows taller than the souls of Christmas, here is a listing of what we might see.
The marquee for Village Liquors is pertinent, on both ends separated by only a few inches of metal and plastic and glass, heading northward or southward. Both sides say “bait is here.” Then they add, as one will get you two, that there is also to be had beer and spirits. The latter is topped off with a smily face, and the former a heart (somewhat) pierced by a bunch of needles on top to drive home its point.
But there now is unity beyond just a smile, a sign at Village Liquor has proclaimed, or at least calls for. Maybe they should stick to promoting their seasonal brews through a sign, as they began doing in September. Five craft beers are cited for reference, but I have one question: Is Grain Belt truly a craft beer? And across the ditch is a sign selling Walt’s (Night) Crawlers, live bait, adding they are imported from Canada (not Russia?) Just sounds bad. Much like an old snack cake label that said Little Debbie is half-price!
Furthermore, the three-digit address lettering on the mailbox is done in black permiment marker (I assume), to differenciate between them and the adjoining car wash and one other unassuming entity that I guess is anonymous. And across the street in North Hudson at the Village Inn, there was a notation on their big, colorful sign — which makes this even more notable — that this was the ringing in of 2_21. Why the gap? Oh, there is that hard-to-see Zero in the decorative form of a globe, like going to The Village is going to bring about world peace. But they added they have the best staff in town, a sweeping generalization if there ever was one, that flies in the face of some, but not all, of the servers on Mondays (grim reapers no doubt).
And The Village was more then-one-day centerpoint of a fog emmersion that was ballyhood in the regional press (yes Minnesota) and its weather people ready to be debunked, since the lack of a chimney sweeping that was in-need at nextdoor Zappa Brothers to divert upward their smoke emissions, meant that their enhanced fog could be seen as the wind shifted, and it did, to Kozy Korner, then Guv’s and Kwik Trip, then back to the west and The Village and to the south to encumber that little known open mic session in a blaring garage — do the village fathers know about this? Or are they standing in for a song or two? Crooning thusly like the Old School such as it is Rat Pack with name co-opted by the long-haul Italian ilk, and their Sinatra-style tunes?
And did I mention Kozy? They did some cross-marketing — HudsonWiNightlife is jealous since attempts to jump on board have met with mixed success with the Brothers (mostly) Grim — saying on one side to also check out Urban Olive “Trust Me” and on the other Guv’s “Deb Fox is bartending.” With that kind of a Three Doors Down buildup I’m sure she is a fox indeed, although closing very early. But the order going north and south of the signs is reversed. Fortunate Son, there is not also east and west sides to contend with, and the reasoning afoot is that Kozy was closed for the day for inventory — boy they must be doing big business — just like Village Liquors shut its doors on the previous day — that being Monday and Jan. 4 — although there were five cars waiting to try to get booze at 3:30 p.m., before driving off. Only one of them had a Minnesota plate, Italian spiced or otherwise.
Then on the walk back from Kwik Trip, there was a dog wearing a sweater and wearing it well and Shining Like Brand New despite being small in size. Not an ugly sweater by any means. Although I’ll take that considering such Ugly (Betty?) Beauty was in very short supply this season.
Across the way, on North End Road, invoke (Jim Morrison?), there were snowmo tracks for the first time this season, in the ditches and even on Sommers Street N. itself, (although judging by the size of that latter track, it would have to be a particularly lame Yamaha). But for the second time down on the second driveway in order, there were big rafts of bound carpeting set in bins and ready for the trash (but not The Clash as that would be up to the waste disposal company). Thereby was the Christmas tree triumph of the first, very early in the season, of a spruce thrust into the back of a thusly packed sedan, followed by the throwing of an even bigger tree into the mouth of a big garbage truck, taking up the whole space leftover when its jaws would close. And no cover, we are told, to pick them up as there has been such non-charge at Dick’s Bar for months now, as patron numbers meant this was the Most Prudent thing to do.
Lastly, are we sure, was back at Kozy Korner and what was their sign about the birthday of Alex. That same day it was announced on rock radio that it was the 77th birthday of none other than Jimmy Page, noteworthy because a fellow guitarist of the same era and style of music, the late Jimmy Bain — although this time the bass — has been on my mind lately because of the fact he had a performance in Hudson for a show that was bigger than billed. Bain also, and also the fact that the Stones legendary song referencing Mr. Jimmy has gotten lots of radio airplay on that same station and its new repetition worshipping format.
And again lastly, news that the proberbial mucho music venue, Muddy Waters in Prescott, has decided to close until pandemic considerations are rectified. And some of their counterparts in that town have been experiencing as much as hour-long waits to get seating.

Gentlemen, know your audience, and like it or not, the newbies are here, as a close-early order was extended by the Hudson City Council last week in a vote that did not feature full unity, but ended with a proviso, lightening the nightclub owners burden by removing Thursday nights from the A-List of early closure rules, and pushing closing time back a half-hour to 10:30 p.m. on weekends. This new, atypical rule invoked by using emergency powers, (and you thought that could only be done at the federal or state level ), still takes away a lucky — depending on who you ask — 13 hours of partying a week. The measure was placed initially in December, after the current flood of Minnesota visitors started regularly arriving, as the Gopher State’s bars and restaurants remained closed, mostly. (See below).

<News break: Where in the village, that’s a hint, could you see the first fir trees that had been decked out for the holiday now curbed for disposal and only decorating the edge of the street? At times with lights still on them, or even newly placed such bulbs In The Still Of The Night, as people remaining on holiday Made Waste Haste to un-accessorize. The answer in Where Did You See It? And another hint, just how soon do they all find their way to the chipper via Advanced Disposal, which is now also part of the conglomerate that is Waste Management, and vice versa, via The Merger Rules? The acquisition was announced via a simple postcard, so for once they are in this way truly green, Christmas trees withstanding. We just saved a bunch of them, even in the ranks of the deciduous.>

The Thursday inclusion of those three nights where 10 p.m. was D-day, puzzled me a bit at first. Granted, there are people who slam it on Thursday night, then tough it out during the Friday workday since it is only one time around (if they are fulltime employed and starting at dawn), then get their rest on Friday night and hit it again on Saturday night. But other then leading (loosely speaking) into the weekend, the Thursday scene is not that big a draw. It is the territory of open mic nights that have checked attendance, as they appeal mostly to folkies, such as the one at Dick’s Bar that had a good run of a few months, then mostly died out. Ziggy’s picked up some of the slack with Tuesday night open mic light. There were some quite cool flurries of plucking that hit home better then most, with the house band going on a long run to equip an old song standard with something new, and featured added such instrumentation that included not-the-norm percussion, from the assorted hangers-on in the audience, some clamoring to get up there on stage (like me if they featured a harder sound, which is rare these days, although that was not always the case — see old Dibbo’s days and the metal band with a name starting with “Mega,” also referencing the lead singer who was pushing 300 pounds). And are those who are coy, waiting in the wings and needing the encouragement to come up, and even then hesitating — briefly or not — to do so.
There is now one exception to the Thursday as lacked thunder rule — to a point. At Ziggy’s, which has tried to persist through the 10 p.m. weekend closure rule by having the bands do a two-hour set(s) that finish before the cops are at you door — and they so often will be — there has been the Thursday country night in the form of Tim Sigler. OK, this is my take on Tim, who has been playing around these parts for awhile. He is very solid, especially technically, everyone agrees on that, but not that greatly spectacular. Like a pop-ish band that has crafted there stuff, but doesn’t have the flair — although often careening — of an in-concert Led Zeppelin. Or one might say as the light-rock equivalent, Uncle Chunk, very steady, of course, but nothing to write home about, unless your dad in one of those class rock and Reeling (Forward) Through The Years hounds who likes just about everything in that realm.
So we go to the new Bar Ban time on weekends, such as they are regularly classified, of 10:30. (Do I really have to footnote the p.m.?) This will help, but just a bit. Here’s why, and like you would expect from HudsonWiNightlife, its a niche. In the downtown bar scene, everything goes in waves that gain prominence by the hour. Don’t you think it’s known that Dick’s has two-for-ones from 10:30 to 11:30 (again p.m.)? There are then more patrons that flow in at 12 and 1, and of course Minnesotans — even historically — at 2:15.
At Hudson Tap and its predecessor and the predecessor before that, they are busy early, but not long after midnight — again historically — it becomes a veritable ghost-town. Why? Hey, if you are hitting Interstate 94 from Minneapolis after a happy hour in those parts, do you think you are going to get here much before, say, 12:30? So riff-raff, its that’s what they are, will still be here 10:30 closing or not. (And there is something to be said about the idea that hard-core drunks don’t wait until late to come out. That, truth be told, is the realm of insomniacs. There are people who close up their shop at 5 p.m. then immediately hit the bar, happy hour or otherwise, and stay until close or until they are too tipsy to be functioning, then get home the best they can). The idea that of late, there are people passed out in a drunken stupor on the sidewalk, or increased amounts of vomit there — I would not doubt it, although all I have seen is a couple of patrons way beyond tipsy trying to keep positioned in their seated position on a curb while on the phone, talking as best they can. (I must admit, for full and total disclosure, that I like so many of the old regulars have stayed away since The New Patron Rules, so I likely have not seen it all).
Lastly, the course of things downtown has always been that on weekends, patrons in the know have progressed with their stops through a defined pattern, which changes over time, just as the go-to places change over time. Back about 15 years ago, for example, everyone started at the old Pudge’s at around 9:30 and then progressed northward. The lay of the land may not have changed much since then, even as venues have changed ownership and makeup. If that pattern would hold true today, and I don’t know that at this point it still holds sway, the somewhat demonized Smilin’ Moose would be a last stop.
So what good would 10 O’Clock versus 10:30 be?
<Does the tail wag the dog?>
Now, as of Wednesday, the Bar Ban Rules also have been relaxed in Minnesota, so now its more like a curfew with fewer people allowed. That means in-tavern service only until 10 p.m. — seven days a week, and that’s how it’s different — and capacity limits are set at 50 percent. And, although its not clear if this goes only for venues that are mostly eatery based, the rule is that only two people who are together can be seated at a bar rail. So one couple cannot sit down and join another.
So, if you want to go out with your posse? Head east young man. And on five or more of the seven days, last call in all of western Wisconsin is just what it always has been.
Playing out well? On holidays like New Year’s Eve, there were back to the inordinate amounts of partiers, but yes, a full half were thought to be out-of-towners, at least at Dick’s. But were the locals there true regulars? Two different servers, kinda, sorta shrugged their shoulders on that one.
So, leave Minneapolis at 10 and get to Wisconsin by 10:45. Thus, I guess on Friday and Saturday people will bypass Hudson and head for River Falls or New Richmond. Or Roberts, Hammond and Somerset, not to mention Star Prairie, Prescott and Ellsworth. And the even (Not As Big As Real Texas) town of El Paso for those of you with cowboy hats. Or be one of the untold — think hundreds — throngs who get here to have a nice dinner and if there is time, do some window antiques shopping.

<Continuations from cabbies to carolers>

End then there was this guy from Lyft, who it would seem had gone adrift, and just wishes he could complete his shift. Why? Look at the new main clientele he is driving late at night. “Those Minnesotans,” the quiet driver from the center of the Twin Cities said. “Crazy.” And no one himself included, seemed to know just where the city limits end, and where the village bars have their own set of closing rules — not to much different then before. So why could his passengers party on until well after midnight in many cases, but when you are headed further south, no such luck. As he crossed over the Lake Mallalieu bridge, he wondered this aloud, “why here?” So I told him about the fact that the two different municipalities are each governed over there own set of rules, and there also is one more to boot by the H word, in the township.

“Sheesh …”

But those hardy carolers from the Bible Baptist Church persevered on with their songs at the front door of myself and others, although standing as much together as my porch would allow, so social distancing was not what was on their minds. Rather sugar plums. But the songs seemed a bit shorter as voices were muffled by masks, and the littler ones pleaded for, only this year, “no encore PULLEASE!”

<Had enough already of the sappy Christmas stories, and songs that dominate(d) the radio? You’ll get some here too, but now we will give Hallows to some other holidays — if a last stab at election residue counts as one>.

Make America Great Again? If we can pardon all those late presidential pardons, as the show just keeps on rolling. And those huge flags are still flying, now more than ever. OK, on with a Wisconsin version of Six Flags Great America. On a short, narrow walkway were, and still are, planted a trio of small flags on each side. They are still there. Just down the block, a place had Trump flags and signs all over, only a few feet from the sidewalk, and advised not to touch in ANY way, as you were under camera security scrutiny. It all was unplugged and put away right after it was clear that Biden had trumped Trump. I stood there during a walk right about that time, and couldn’t help it, should I flip that lens The Bird? After all, both of us have protected speech, and cackle, ask the courts.
Northward, just at the far edge of the Kozy Korner parking lot, were a five pro-GOP signs in a row, meaning they held a string of four red and white flags the size of a robin — one stayed barren.
Between all these things in the middle of North Hudson were flags and signs for the Republican racks, one of them kitty-korner fom the village hall, where all the village voting takes place. That is a no-no, you have to have these things a certain distance from the polls. But wait, they comply because the banners were flown of the far side of that family’s yard. On the opposite side they had about 20 more feet to work with.
Cross down to the main drag and one of the last houses before the lake had both a rainbow-colored flag and a skeleton that was blood red. That really merges, in a more colorful way than usual, the two observances.
<Not Seven Eleven, but Seventh Heaven?>
Eleven is not just the number of fingers referenced in a companion post, it is the street name of a bridge over Interstate 94, right by our version of Seven Eleven, in my estimation, Taco Johns, that draws lots of protesters/picketers. The last time I saw came a veteran all decked out in this regalia to joint the rally, carrying a flag also as large as life. I thought him to be a bit over the top, however, with his big brown boots and war medals on his brown uniform and half-hat, half-beret.
Opposite him was a counter-protester who I know to be progressive, but as was apparent in her sign and choice of candidate was also very pro-life. Between her and The Decked Out Man was a center lane as such, on both the bridge and constituting the driver passing lane coming eastbound into Wisconsin. This had to be a Trump crowd, as do you know who needs that particular lane to rev in? Disenfranchised white males who drive 95  down Hwy. 95 just to drive 95.
The fact that I in this case biked over the Eleventh Street Bridge drew the ire of two larger ladies with just as large flags, for some reason. I felt like saying, would you be more happy if I had the means to drive a luxury vehicle ALL the time, and at least under the Obama administration I could always afford a sedan. Then one of their comrades (boy I bet they will love that term) began climbing the fence and its concrete support as high as his toes would allow, to hang the flag almost as high as a basketball hoop. Give an assist to Randy Breuer??
With that regional basketball reference, the following is one guy who now will not take a pass — Biden was just biding time, until changing it up and sticking a map of a new state, a sillouette of Wisconsin, between the vowels of Biden’s name on a sign, and throwing a series of them out into the middle of things. Chads made famous by Florida might be more appropo, but the state has a square corner.
<Walk the walk, and walk this way>
The signs were out in force on a long stroll through town, as people were picking election elixir or Halloween haunts. And in this case dealing with the former case, were they at once one and the same?
The sign suggested, don’t just protect the environment, protect our children as well, the sponsoring church pleaded. And thusly protect the earth, as shown by a blue-tinged globe. (Having a Blue Hue, like the name of my friend’s bluesy band). But that globe was the size of a soccer ball shown, which is the most fitting choice of sport I could make due to its universality. Its in Living Color because of the oceans, but could All The Seas Be Brown And The Sky Gray? Such a sentiment was shown signwise in English, but also in five other languages listed. One was concise, short and sweet, with its characters of the alphabet, not of politics, and journalists would love that one.
Then there is that other sign like Blue Hue, saying that Blue Lives Matter, as that would be Police Lives Matter. Yes, true, but … If you’ve been watching the news, and not fake news, you would know that’s not a wise tack to be throwing out there these days, far better those pointy things availed by Halloween.
A number of the cartoonish bodies were laying face down, as if they had hit the floor, like a song says. Others were planted firmly in the ground, with image of only arms and head exposed.The signs laid flat said either free and 50 cents for, buying what, the pavement underneath? Flat fee?
A guy I know had on the back of his truck, looking much like the images in Scary Movie — the newest version based on Wisconsin Death Trip, and forward — of a medium-size yellow ghost, he did not get the tint of color right. But see all the grungy stuff in the back seat and you see what you are getting into.
Wisconsin a few decades back drew attention for having the highest number of illegal signs along highways, almost 10 percent of all those nationwide. This was part of a Highway Beautification Act, with Twiggy as spokesperson? Slim chance.
And then there is/was the sign that said in two different levels, Joe, Bye, (although there also were other banners, methinks, for other Democrats?) Well it did/did not work out that way for some. It also said closer to the door, Don 2020, and I assume that’s not Quixote. Not sure what this guy’s politics are … Although a few blocks away there also was the two-tiered alphabet soup: HO, PE.
Trump also was called out — would this be a sign? — for a reference to Yosemine Sam, where he got the character all wrong in a way that got under some people’s skin. Definitely not Uncle Sam.
<Grin and bare it>
The downtowners all summer were dressed up in various states of undress, playing it forward on Halloween, which obviously can vary by any of the 50 states. Puerto Rico swings it, would that elevate their status to an election swing state … But wait, they would have to officially be in the Union to be viewed as such, For the 50.
It has been a combination of Men Behaving Badly, and Breaking Bad, even Biden. Saw a political T-shirt about getting high — wait that should have been Bush. Unless it is about Trump’s ego.
And this just in: All those election observers could be thought of as poll sitters, like the stripper and her pole to swing on and then swing on over to\a customer and … uhm … sit? Sorry Donald, but I think you’d love it.
The big flag thing carried out even out in the countryside, as can be seen in homes scattered here and there. But there is a new twist, many of them are positioned to be facing toward the house instead, and attached to the pole holding the mailbox, which obviously is pointing the other direction, forming a triangle of sorts. Going this way and that? Kind of like those other polls, Biden versus Trump.
Get a head up on The Donald for Halloween, as a party at a local roadhouse had one of its mainstays sporting not a head of lettuce, but a regularly disguised human head down low, pinned to the rest of the costume in a position where Trump himself was not spared the rod, as it was thrust right between the ears at the neckline — oh wait, that’s Jethro! His place had an election viewing party on that tide-turning Third, much like the tattoo shops around the area and their almost-nothing special cost for such body art on Friday The Thirteenth. Rounding out the trilogy is a draft viewing party at Kozy Korner where, gasp, the Viking faithful are allowed this once a year opp to get out their app in some way and forecast who would be picked by the purple in various rounds.
<More on Halloween haunts, if you can take it!>
It was called, in conversation, the ultimate Halloween costume. Or not. Captain Covid? Co-opted?
Much like my friend, who has coined the term Captain Underpants. As sometimes those briefs are a bit too brief, the long and the short of it regarding shorts, even though I think they are more like like those tight shorts worn while out and about, on the trail by cyclists, that’s in bike not biker. And after all I can get away with that to a degree, humor in uniform?
Oh, these possible costumes might also reference the Biden options, in a briefing, but this is a case there he could trump the Trump himself, although his thusly new faces would be much more vanilla/colorsome.
On Halloween, the possibility of saving the planet doesn’t resonate as much as a big, scary guy at the helm. But, give him a corn-cob pipe like McArthur and he might be closer to fitting the bill. Except in Pennsylvania.
The last house on the corner had a big Frankie that actually waived his arms slowly together like a monkey playing an accordine. This was one of not that many families this year that stayed out in the yard long enough to do a bang-up Halloween decorating job. But right away in November there was another creature commandeering the premises. Around the bend in a garden sat a gnome, also bigger than usual, and his size was rivaled by a pair of flags with different themes that had a likewise-size sculpture between them. Back the other way was a garage door flashing what looked like swirling bunny heads, of just enough colors to fit almost any holiday, and two Halloween figurines that on a night or two had a man taking a smoke break, again between them, although at first he looked like a short, squat snowblower.
Good things come in threes? Well, what about evil things? And could be a higher number, depending on how you group together the things in question. On our roof and into the house, in early October mind you, a big plastic pumpkin fell back down from the roof, but first one its own got up to and past the highest V-shaped point, then down on the other end to flop on our deck. It later rolled around on the deck for several seconds because of the finally showing pre-Halloween wind, then just like that stopped. It now, and has been, sitting lighted in our living room, glowing in streaks of several nights running. Many more such treatments were awaiting, or so we thought, for trick or treaters, all Halloween night.
The first citywide stab at a sorta decked out pumpkin could be a seen in a couple of yards back as soon as Labor Day. But to do more over the top, and kinda bury (good Halloween word) the grass from view, it was early October and So Much Depends On The Weather, as in even the proverbial snow on a pumpkin. Our literally hundreds of them, for sale through the local youth group on a slight knoll leading to the St. Patrick’s Church building, with a big “welcome” sign on the foreground and a sunrise in the background, for at least a few minutes most days, (read now), depending on The Time Of The Season, and of course the snow-falling status.
And of the movie when I was first getting into the ’80s metal, you know with the little kid getting sucked into the TV, about the time MTV came forward, my friend says she has a similar fear when watching that carries her back (in terror) to almost the time of a Black and White screen.
This on a sign in the doorway of an itty, bitty house. Witch parking only, all others will be toad. Or eaten. Guess they didn’t see too many trick or treaters, that would take the consumption the other way.

With Christmas waning, the likewise festival of Kwanzaa still with hours left, and Boxing Day between, the lights that shine the way are still beaming.
Two different and differing nativity displays in North Hudson can be seen in the same block, one with a star set atop the siding on an overhanging second level of the house, and the other not really a nativity at all, which means you could call it a Nativity in Black. It rather is a group of three small structures with benches in the middle that are lit up, but not enough to show the full colors of this display, which when daylight shows can be seen to be stacks of small cut firewood.
And so I introduce a dichotomy.
The bottom line is that people often did not decorate as soon, although there were notable exceptions, and the displays of Halloween tended to spill over, and the traditional time of holiday decorating that is the long weekend after Thanksgiving (especially Black Friday) was sometimes pushed farther, but again, there were the standard bearers who did it beforehand.

<News break: I am Santa Claus. Or are you? Either way, unless copyright restrictions prevent the true Ironman from being revealed, check out my version of the seminal Sabbath song, redone for the third time, in the Notes From The Beat department>.

The house at the end of our Circle did it up well, taking the big inflatable Frankie and replacing it with a creature of the Xmas holiday, right away, with various smaller figures scattered around. Down the way closer to Lake Mallalieu, there is a small yard that’s filled with much more than a dozen of these such things, dwarfing the house behind

And so it goes, as the majority of the super-huge displays are harder to find, and some are decidedly low tech, such as the proverbial (I made it so) St. Nick on a Stick, (and this isn’t the cancelled state fair), not much more than a mask, or a simple wreath that sets atop a similar pike. A big exception is Sam’s Christmas Village in Somerset, a land of literally six million lights, that has a run through Jan. 3.
The multi-colored lights on a type of strand that usually would feature only one or two shades is a trend, most notably on trunks of tall trees this year.
And as trees go, that walk down to Starr’s Bar reveals that most of the older houses are not decked out at all, but the lighted evergreens inside houses are invariably positioned right in front of the living room window, at times even with the sash pulled aside not to see what’s the matter, but to give a better view.
The view at Green Mill was dominated early by a server wearing an ugly sweater, Wisconsin Badger style with bright, big red letters. A redux was an Irish band called The Pickles closer to the center of the state, but they as you might guess were sporting green not red sweaters, for a New Year’s Eve show topping off at midnight. This was a holiday season that would have a dearth of them, as it was tinged by a nasty virus. As in the song Pepper by, dare I say it in a holiday season, The Butthole Surfers.
Also, early in the holiday season, I heard a Xmas carol that similarly gave me pause. Did they really say that? It started by singing that Santa had been down on his luck, then added that hey, he don’t really give a (censored).
To bring it back to the more tame, a longtime fixture teaching music at Hudson High School, Chris Tank, offered a short Sunday virtual concert with “trumpet friends from the TCTE,” out of the metro. A special guest was Tim Blotz of Fox 9, as the emcee. We hear there may be a repeat performance.
And some of all these lights ranging around Hudson have been left on virtually 24 hours since early in December, to greet travelers. To paraphrase the strains of Shania Twain — I believe that’s who it was, or was it Gretchen, as I am not an expert at country music — “I leave my Christmas lights on all night long …”
Radio station KQRS is playing a whole host of Christmas covers and even original songs by rock bands. One was even by AC/DC of all groups. Or was it a single from their new CD? In the latter case, there was a song that hit the radio but broke little new ground and was rather muddled in places. It was saved by a guitar solo that was more melodic but still rocked.
That from this wise man? That is the surname, literally, of Wiseman, a pro football player that as announced as coming off the injured reserve list (non-virus) at about the time that the Three Kings were to be nearing Bethlehem.
Last in line, a holiday decoration piece that just caught my eye just the other day. My neighbor has a tree that is as tall as three basketball hoops stacked one after another, and the entire thing is decked out in lights that reach the full height and I don’t know exactly how he does it. They are like the ones that used to be on our much smaller tree at home. He has another one of that last very size closer to their front door. But what would really impress me is if the also as tall maple that forms a triangle in their yard would be strung up … And how about showing all this off more, as the display sometimes of late has started showing closer to the toll of midnight — as in New Year’s?

T-Buckets this side of Somerset stands out from the rest for New Year’s Eve by saying they will be open “until the last drink is spilled.” One patron suggested that just what that drink is, as there are cool specials, has to be determined by Your Mama.

There is DJ/karaoke at 9 p.m. This has been the most consistent such music offering in western Wisconsin in recent months, and you can forget Minnesota for now. The bomb shots are a veritable bombshell at $4, well, a shot. There also are six of those for $20, and for you the quality tipper — not to be confused with Tipper Gore — that covers your tip with, potentially, a little extra left over for yourself. And if you tanked a bit at karaoke or even think you might, rest assured it still is appreciated, and need some comfort food, there is a pasta bar starting an hour beforehand at 8 p.m.

<News break> And this is a new category for HudsonWiNightlife. Check out the Uncategorized department for some killer commentary on how the Twin Cities media covered the triple stabbing in downtown Hudson. Waited until the new year to see if things would change. Check it out and see how you would answer that question, although I hate to be non-festive on a holiday.

<You might bear in mind that since the 31st is on a Thursday, there is what is essentially a curfew in all of Hudson of 10 p.m. So as has been said, head north. Elsewhere, most places are feeling bound by the 25 percent capacity rule that exists in many municipalities, but obviously not all, and it is not clear whether county laws, we are talking St. Croix and Pierce, trump the various municipalities within them, thus most venues have elected to forego most all music. And aside from that, as they said at Sidetrack Saloon in Roberts, “we’re just drinking a bunch of beer.” And so be that. But if you go far enough afield, there are things such as 20 ounce porterhouse (not the full two pounds and the rest of the sides tend to be just the typical) being hawked, and that’s even way across the border where shutdown fever began. Closer to home, you might try the village of North Hudson, again with different rules then the city of Hudson, although they are trying to work in tandem to a degree with communications open, even almost nightly between the bartenders that happen to be on duty. Historically, you will probably have best luck with The Village Inn (although they have a dreadful lack of communication among staff and even the servers depending on which one, as Darren and Sue are by far the most informative, but might not know how to direct you when giving a simple call of how long are you open, or is any buffet free or for a charge, or such), and across the street, at Kozy Korner (where at some point over New Year’s you will likely even run into their trademark free-for-all-with sloppy Joe’s — hey I take offense to that but probably have no right to), and a tentatively planned potluck — see below for what you could bring — over even further north a bit at their companion venue Guv’s Place with great darts too, and that’s more of a lock, but definitely get their early. And the Town of Hudson to the east is different then the city and village, and they are a wild card. And further to the east is the often found staple of Wisconsin, the good ‘ol fashioned supper club, where you can surely find the bestest of Old Fashioneds, Manhatten or otherwise, just as good as my brother makes, and he learned from the best growing up in the Wausau-Merrill area. For this in this area, likely have to hit the County Line.

<Be the hostess who ends up with the leastest>

So T-Buckets may not be the place to go, for some reason, and you are holding your own party — is that considered housebound? No matter, as here are some party suggestions for those wishing to try something different. Christmas is in the books, but remnants are still in the refrigerator. So why not use what’s there to win a prize? That said, host a “who has the best leftovers party!” The winner, if that term can be used and not considered a booby prize, gets all the leftovers from everyone else. Or if that is too much, group the gathered greens and such by category, so you can be in it to win it, appetizer, salad, entree, dessert, you get it. Some limits need to be set — up to the host — on how much you can enhance your eats and still have them be eligible as leftovers. Everyone can be liberal with ice, of course. I humbly suggest the one extra sauce rule, and humbly throw out there this idea: You had either ham or turkey earlier in the holidays, right? How about a sauce with a mayo base, not too much, and add mustard(s), and/or chipolte, hot sauce, Worchestershire sauce, and the capper, just the right amount of brown sugar. Whether the meat is white or darker, use more of the dark tinted sauces. What about taking those meatballs that everyone seems to make, dice them finely and throw them into the sauce mix, so you get rid of another thing while getting more prize-worthy. And consider giving bonus points to whomever can guess the exact sauce that put the top dish over the top. Lastly, you could have your guests pull an ingredient from a hat and be given a set amount of time to use it to make a dish — again a sauce as category is recommended so you don’t have lots of spare parts such as spare ribs setting around, as that would defeat the purpose of using up stuff inexpensively.

But if you still have to do the fast food thing, you just might be able to if you leave right after reading this post. A major newspaper, in Cincinnati, said their review found that in that city, there were many such places that remained open New Year’s Eve, at least for awhile. A full baker’s dozen of them also have locations in Hudson. It said that of those retail business franchises they studied, and the ones where certain outlets were to remain open, the typical closing time was 6 p.m. So get going … And however you celebrate it, Happy New Year! And bear the cold and wind if you go out, and it seems from a recent walk around that there just aren’t hardly any house parties, judged by cars parked or the total lack of them, at least those that start with a sit-down dinner. But for maybe those who will still try to party all through to the dawn, You Know Like They Used To, even if it has to be at home, they need to start later so they can go later. We’ll have to see …

Christmas Eve is coming … No wait, its here! So the following are a few of the Xmas related things seen while Heading Home For The Holidays like greyhound.

A last gasp sign on billboard made out a mandate of sorts — Your holiday tradition starts at Menards. So if you still need that “special” gift for dad or granddad — you know, the proverbial hammer — there still may be time. Maybe even take the last-minute super discount and upgrade to one with multiple heads, for even less, smart shopper, but only one claw. And the deals continue, day by day into early January, although they might see-saw by the exact date applicable, so hold out hope for another round of 11 percent off (via rebate so great, you may have to wait) what you can put into your Menards bag.  But with the way these holidays fall, there is little chance of another Black Friday. And these corporate signs are all around you, to meet your procrastination needs, like plastic holiday and lighted snow creatures. Heard there’s been a run on them at Home Depot, which in Hudson is only a block away! Or not? Grinch?

The ultimate gingerbread house before mom’s house, is actually the treat from the folks at Hersheys in Pennsylvania, a tree, you know the one, with a full four inches of foiled chocolate, and even a stand beneath. And even a smiley face fit in, mid-evergreen. That’s like an even bigger such mug from a cousin when signing her California Christmas card — and just how she did that by thrusting the first letter of her name into a loopy circle, the top part of the letter K — special K in her case  — has got to be a Christmas gift. All the trees are brown, like the Charlie Brown variety, “no matter how far away you roam,” if to California then up and down hundreds of miles of coast. There’s that one in a nearby yard that’s all that, but the other half of it is full greenery, so that would be the dairy drink found all over these parts, half and half — great for baking! Or eggnog. Oh, yeah, I spoke of being loopy a bit earlier. And here is the ultimate (maybe) Christmas and otherwise figurine, although maybe not so appropriate for the holiday, depending on the end you take it from. While scrounging through the depths of our storage room, we found an old two-inch high, plastic Santa as such. Reminded me for some reason of something Ozzy said about his favorite collectibles, two different kinds that would seem to be at odds — crucifixes and get this, devil figurines. And Ozzy also has quip, as always, although mumbled, as an explanation: It creates a balance, between good and evil? Between Heaven and Hell, that old Black Sabbath song? Is this the ultimate? I know someone who certainly would say so, Michael Ault and his Aultimate Ozzy tribute show of days gone by at the old Dibbo’s. But what is the capper to this caper, and I reference that loopy letter K from above? There is a smiley face, sometimes winking, in a hole in the Santa’s chest. While only sometimes? Invoke The Exorcist, as if you hit the green button the head(s) spin Round and Round to show themselves!

Lastly, as my bus is now pulling into the station, is this greeting I saw on lights during the trip, also at several different places along Interstate 94: Serenity now, air grievances later. Go Tell It On The Mountain, so indeed tell this to all around you, and it doesn’t just have to be the cute blonde sitting next to you, or the mega-size traveler on Megabus: Have the happiest of happy holidays.

So you have a fave restaurant that you have not been able to fully patronize because of virus restrictions that go until Jan. 11 in the Twin Cities. And if you have one or more of many heritages, there may be a tradition that is currently compromised, and these often are based around food and yes, drink.
That is more true than ever in the Irish community — although I will also list other remaining dining options further down. There aren’t many places to start with having a strikingly broad appeal in their Irish fare, setting it apart. And no chance right now to do a sit-down at Charlie’s in Stillwater edging toward Wisconsin, where you might find a veritable pot of gold. This to some people who have lost a lot to begin with, not only because of sheer timing that blew out this year’s St. Patrick’s Day due to Covid, but going centuries back, and it is often about food, such as that prompted by potato famines everyone has heard of.
And we hope they have heard of Paddy Ryan’s in the town of Hudson, where there is a wee bit of comfort around being about the only such place remaining fully open in the east metro and beyond, and that was very true even before the pandemic. They are a friend of HudsonWiNightlife because they are not only consistently traditional, they put there own twist into a great number of things with their many and varied menu. That is a mixture that means they can both uphold traditions and create new ones, but again, you might have to wait until Tuesday when Paddy Ryan’s reopens for the week.
To wit: There may not be a such thing as an Irish Christmas different from the rest, but my Irish in-laws told me of one they and other such families observe, where it’s all about the importance of waiting, via the Advent season they hold so dear, for other good things that include indulging in the food, I’m sure making it all the more tasty. And as is appropriate for this season, it all waits on a child — or for salivating during the short drive to Hudson, before there again are other options later in winter.
It is this: The youngest child in the family, and the Irish usually have big ones, has the duty and joy of taking one good sized candle and placing it in an upstairs window, to light the way for all. The other celebrations of Christmas Eve cannot go forward until this ritual is done, even if the child is studying or napping, and the mother will simply have to be patient with placing the food she has made. Like today, the appetizer and salad before the entree, and then dessert.
As they say, from this background, as a guide to further spiritual growth: “Light one candle.”
But then do come, with the authentic Irish, the usual Christmas trimmings (which these days seem to be universally made), and also the textured throwbacks of crispy goose fat potatoes, heartier then your regular chips here in the States, and even along the same theme, crispy parsnips. (You can check out the Paddy Ryan’s version of each of these).
And then they’ll leave the light on for The Holy Family, also, this time later in the celebration, going into Christmas Day. Also, there is the putting out of milk and bread out that night for hospitality, although these could be redacted to bread pudding and Guinness, (again, to be found right here in Hudson), as a logical substitute, ala Joe, and his school of cooking where most anything can be found to make a match. But to hook up with the cook, call for hours of operation for Paddy Ryan’s, Tuesday through Saturday, but which can vary on major holidays.
<Other go-to places among the go-to now>
These are other local places, in their respective “ethnic” genres, where you can’t get the dine-in option in the Twin Cities due to Covid rules. In my search I roamed to Stillwater, but culled out Woodbury because it is largely Americanized suburb fare and even a bit more distant, and is heavy on Thai food, which you just won’t find in Hudson anyway.
The guiding factors I used in this short list, and I hope they go beyond the basic “bad service, wasn’t friendly” type of tack, are these: Is the restaurant considered a “go to” even if you have to drive over from the Cities, does it have longevity with that status, is it offering dine-in (prime) as well as other options, does their originality in their menu shine compared to competitors and are those mainly in the takeout realm anyway, is the seating capacity impressive (bar rail capacity tends to be roughly uniform with all my picks), and is there ambiance that separates it from a strip-mall-type center.
So here goes, and each offer something that’s in its own niche, although having a counterpart of sorts (no judgement about quality) in Stillwater: The forever-running, test-of-time-fare of San Pedro Cafe in downtown Hudson (when there’s no dine-up option with Caribbean Smokehouse); the special-take-on-foods-by-region, Winzer Stube a block up (as its dozen authentic German beers are a replacement for now, especially, for The Gasthaus); and the longest-lasting Mama Maria’s seated at the far end of North Hudson, where its far more than Chicken Alfredo. And you might make a case for Big Guys BBQ, as it is indeed a roadhouse by being halfway to Stillwater, although ….
Even though I am very German, I led off the list with Irish fare because it is less Americanized then most other traditions. A case in point, there all these Christmas things the old Germans did that have long been a solid part of the celebration here, but a difference might be the fact that a delicacy is mulled wine with rum, again both Irish staples as well, and we all know that Ireland is the king of if not rum, for sure whiskey. And there was their lighted thingee, that being candles in an evergreen, but the local fire marshals put that one to rest decades ago. So nowhere to be found, except in your family’s old pictures.

(Its been almost a week later, and want more of the same that’s described below as far as biggest bar draws in western Wisconsin, and where they can still be found — as Hudson is tail-wagging Minnesota, but only to an extent, and there are options, both the very short-term and longer — so read this web site’s Picks of the Week department, Thursday and into the weekend edition. And many Sunday opps and apps are still there, and are also delved into if you dig deep into the department, in what has been become these chronicles in chronological order. So its Friday, and the weekend 10 p.m. curfew is now in place for city of Hudson bars. But they aren’t the only game in town of what has become in this two-state region the only game in town(s) and village, since Minnesota appears to be on the verge of prohibition. But where to still get bands and brew? Again, check out the POTWD of this web site. And see the Notes of the Beat for more sins of the snowy kind on ATMs).

Where did I top off the Top Tavern Night Of The Year, by finally going out and about — and ambling along the square corners that connected three different streets while now sleepless — on a whim shortly before a closing time contested by Minnesotans, as theirs tanked?
This was not Seattle. It was North Hudson, but it could have been North St. Paul. I joined a handful of medium to hard-core drinkers, but was too late to become of them, at The Village Inn. And I give thanks that I now can do it again, quite sober, early in December.
First off, making my way past sparsely attended and newly spread-out tables to the bar counter, a tipsy guy asked with gusto if I had winning tips about a coming arm wrestling contest. I just took a seat while shaking off the cold, best to ignore such a conversation, which might last until they kick you out the door at closing, but he did persist and made it last until two fists were linked atop a table behind him.
There was a lot of testosterone flowing, like the man at the bar who “drummed” with two fists on the counter in front of him at every percussion flourish from the jukebox, and then that one guy to my right who was among the most inebriated and obviously gay. (More on his input below, and it was kinda cool).
A message across the top of the jukebox said that it was Their Day around the world, which oddly is a holiday I saw referenced in a different place almost a week ago, two miles away, at Dick’s Bar in downtown Hudson, which one border-straddling cabbie has now dubbed a City Bar due to becoming a bit more rowdy. It seems to go in phases. The guy next to me scoffed, “who plays this stuff?” to both light country and a bit harder rock. To the latter, I expounded that it’s the late Chris Cornell and one of his well-chosen cover songs, Nothing Compares 2 U. Another might be Patience, made famous by Guns ‘N Roses. I added that he was almost a god in the metal/grunge scene and in the photo on the jukebox, visually and otherwise, he was flowing his hair down and doing his Jesus Christ Pose. The guy paused for a moment, quaffed once more from his drink, then replied, who was that again? After such strains from Soundgarden, the conversation got going based on his query about the nature of country music. I responded that the genre has grown up over time, but in the twang age and what followed right after, was rather juvenile. He responded to my response that he thought not, it still has not grown up. A child of the ’80s, is how he described himself, but was a bit dated when living in River Falls and hiring a grunge band to play in his basement for a party. That was the era of a girlfriend who brought him into a whole another realm of music for appreciation. He added that he never did actually tie the knot with anyone, just at this time chatted up the bartender.
Across the way again, a man chimed in on Somali immigration, and added that earlier that evening across the river he had talked to a couple of “lady cops,” and all presented concerns about current policy. The ladies threw in a stat that seemed a comment on the status of Somalis here and again, all agreed if they had been male officers, the tone would have been a lot harsher for anyone wayward, outside a bar and otherwise.
But now closing time was near and the bartender said none too soon, as she was tired of all the talk that came out in slurs, and just tired in general. Despite that, my question was voiced about whether Austin Healy, perhaps the most veritable cover band in this immediate area, had a few days ago brought in a crowd to hear their take on all kinds of country. Yes. Because bands at The Village at times tank, but on this occasion, were riding the wave of mostly young adult Minnesotans coming here to party. Last song, and a guy had to be told more than once to move his head so the jukebox in front of him could be programmed with a remote. And the old man now sitting next to me in love with his tonic and gin, after a 12 hour day, could not let it drop that I was wearing shorts and the weather was horrible enough to dip near 32, for anyone working outdoors that long. I told him that for my few-block walk this way it was OK, but that seemed to fuel his lament more. But to the server take heart, I added, as turkey time would be here soon.
She seemed to appreciate that thought. Being served while putting a fork in it, rather than serving.