This is just more of the same kettle of fish. Even though what’s being decided among the big fish is still oceans apart, as the presidential election winner has not yet been called by AP, the issues spawned at even the local level are among the same. And as the fish wrappers throw out the latest numbers, there is still something that at a deeper level is, at least in some cases with the threats of legal action and challenges, fishy and it smelt.
With that said here is more analysis (yeah right) and satire about the western Wisconsin end of all these themes. And It’s All The Same, Only The Names Have Changed:
And see if you recognize these names, that went head to head: He claims she doesn’t promote area agriculture, but does that more typically mean what have come to be known as corporate farms all around and in western Wisconsin too, who have in cases fouled the environment with runoff. Not all of these are small scale, Happy Farms. That’s important because as you know in this state, It’s The Cows, even when it comes to advertising, politically when at times showing a politician shaking hands in an unusually tidy barn in the background, and otherwise. She actually is a family farmer herself and my wife knows her from doings at Catholic church and the obligatory bunch of kids — and from the time one of the members helped her out when she ran out of gas nearby on a county road.
Possibly related is the fallout from positions on flooding that often occurs in this region and actions to limit it, as developers are said to endanger wetlands, that have been addressed on party lines. As the St. Croix River rises and nears the doors of the Republican party office that’s headquartered within reach.
And as a rural issue, access to health care that can even be arranged to include hospital usage by keeping them open and functioning if you are not in a city, as was championed by candidate Sarah Yacoub. So be even more careful when operating that hay baler. And there’s more of a point to be made along those lines. She’s championed first and yes, secondary training for law enforcement and EMS personnel, to benefit the most, the kids. Like a flyer of an opponent that showed a preteen waving a flag and panning for votes, as his father was way in the background.. OK, maybe wait ten years for that.
I had mixed opinions of Shannon Zimmerman, who actually looks like Joey from Friends in one of his flyers. He early-on had some things that rather being vague assertions actually amounted to A PLAN, and hey, I didn’t even know that was legal in politics. See it when I get in there. One that attracted my attention was doing what can be done (euphemism) to keep high-tax-paying people — for now — living in the state and kicking into the coffers of Wisconsin rather than places like Arizona. And others said also about opps, create more of them for technical college, trade school, even starting with high school offerings, and apprenticeship programs, so such workers can get good jobs and not just a degree. They also need to deal with an aging work force, to in both cases go beyond greeters at Wal-Mart, not that there’s anything wrong with that. Along that line, it also was said be at least one candidate, that the virus situation — oh yeah, there’s that too — will be won by the efforts of the likes of teachers and, get this of all the tings to be specified, grocery store cashiers. What a career to single out. What a country.
But back to Zimmerman, who lauds himself as being a business owner, and father at 17, among other things. But what has escaped attention is what he did between that and 23, nowhere to be referenced in his flyers. What has been more prominent is the fact that he reportedly has held a different residence for residency purposes, you would think that would be redundant, than other strategic tax purposes, and hadn’t “showed up for work” at the Capital in a half a year. Maybe that’s why I’ve never seen that neighbor who “lives” in a mansion down the way. Like I live in a gated community. But hey, we’re told that everything he supports is “constitute driven.” I would hope that would be everything from everybody.

So for now I gotta go, even though I will add to this later; must check back in with AP, who I string for. My people gotta call there people, even though the polls closer over 24 hours ago. Hey, this level of importance means I now truly “need” people.

Now back to patty Schachtner, spoken about from above as not only a farmer but a bear hunting, ice-fishing mother (be careful Joe where you pout the hyphen) of six. She managed to fight (to use this word for the thousandth time this election season) to keep gun ranges open for target shooting so fans could take aim at imaginary bears when it was out of season. And she touted her role as a EMT and then a St. Croix County medical examiner who pledged to do battle on the front lines to aid those addicted to opiods — but pardon me, by the time they reach your desk, is it not too late save these people?

Hey sex sells, whether in downtown Hudson bars or in a more subtle way the whole political scene. What do they say, men are pigs?

If you are not in the mode for a really big pig farm in your beloved St. Croix County, in an effort to protect its large stream and bunch of smaller ones, then check out the message of CAFO, not Coda, like the Zeppelin record,
(So I can say for the record, what follows is my Coda, verbage stuck in front of the existing story that was posted this morning).
So for the Pence factor, and he’s just gotta have a small rivalry with Trump at this point, six-Pence is halfway to a threesome (or did I get that backwards?) Either way, that sounds like a Party. (Ask Chad at Dick’s, yes you read that right, about the exact definition, in an old joke that goes back to the Obama years).
I’m sure Trump could help make the necessary arrangements, because we are told he is good at making things happen, in a Broad sense.

And that Billy Bush on the Bus thing? If another Bill, that being Clinton, would do the same things Trump bragged about, he would have had crosses being burned on his front lawn — even if its the White House where the barriers were up on Election Day — in virtual Real Time, which I know these days is not that recklessly different than meeting media deadlines. Because on a side note, its that ilk who buys and pays for what news they want you to hear — and forget that old (urban?) myth about the existance of a liberal media, especially locally. But I’m told, Clinton still gave it a shot to take it that next step and record the bus blather so he could get some tips as far as Come On Here Dear Boy, Have A Cigar, You’re Going To Go Far. So, Kid Rock for president as an alternative action? But I will be more reluctant to sway the way of hip-hop for presidential material, even if that’s a large part of what the party deejays locally play, as ‘cuz as even a black woman I encountered on a bus said: “This is all more stupid than the Kanye West Thang.” And this was “I’m on a Bus,” not “I’m on a Boat.” (Sorry Smilin’ Moose). So as far as who runs the country, with a musical background, I guess all we can do as it concerns recent relevations, is Carlos Santana.
But our now Bordering on third-rate country is on the verge of re-electing a second-rate president, as its really getting Stormy … again. What, he wasn’t that good, not to even breath the mention of, say, he wasn’t the best I’ve ever had? In this day and age, last word pertinent, having that not-so-long-a-slong can drop your ratings among, certain types of people who are envious anyway, a good 10 or 15 percentage points.
And your claim to fame is that you screwed a porn strar. Why is that your calling card unless … you are another porn star.
Maybe more of the powers that be, one-party sided as they are, would listen to me if I hailed from Russia, and had that kind of “influence,” not because I know the skinny supermodel/escort/porn star/wife for citizenship types from there, although that’s a route Trump went, or thought of going further even after the fact …

Virtually every woman running for office, as seen in local flyers, looks stunning. Even Supreme Court Justice Ginsberg, unwittingly a pawn in the whole political and election process even in her death that meant there would have to be a replacement, looked even nicer and charming in her obit photo then when there was a standard mug shot when she took that office when, decades ago?
And Sarah Yacoub, who could rightly feel she’s a scorned women (is that the right term?) over how she has been portrayed. The opposition seems to be trying, with considerable dollars, to portray her as — and sorry, this is the applicable term based on a fairly obvious read of their strategy — a hot mess. Like their most recent photo pulled out of the vault, showing her with oiled hair draped down over partially, one eye. Some friends of mine who model would agree this is the type of pose you would see in the likes of Cosmo, and they’ve preened for such shots. The first flyer go-round showed Yacoub in what looked like a booking photo, standing in front of a height chart having her around 5-foot-7 or more. Models are supposed to be that tall and they don’t exactly dress conservatively, at least in their shoots, when sporting their version of business attire. But all, please take to heart that some of those same people are MENSA candidates and quite capable. The age-old mantra to which I subscribe, that its OK to value someone for their looks, as long as that is not all you value them for. And they need to be reminded of that. I just did.
And in flyers, vice presidential candiate Harris –and not the bass player Harris for Iron Maiden that a friend of mine says she used to lust over — is shown in more than one flyer as part of a foursome of mug shots, looking over seemingly doe-eyed at the two men she is running against. Trump may not have a shot, but maybe, just maybe, there is (still) hope for Pence.
And as far as Bernie, well he’s just Bernie. As far as whatever became of him, we’ll introduce another one-time pop culture figure with not-so-hot looks: Weekend at Bernie’s.

Up the way from our house is another guy who really needed to get the log jam in his backyard cleared out — and then fall came! And started ebbing. So there soon were about a hundred pieces of cut word placed up front for sale, and the biggest one at the top featured a uniform four-inch round hole, like the double-part shape of so many single candies with really cool-as-the-season gooey stuff, stuffed into the middle. This hole could also be seen as a size that would fit a roll of toilet paper — not the fat primo kind — but am I the only one who has noticed, nobody TPs any more; it seems to have gone out of style, or limited by the virus. Dare I say, Killing Us Softly?
Just throwing this into the kitty … Referenced on social media a day or two before Halloween and on, was a cat that’s been seen that is “black and white. Really.” I get the irony of a black cat, but … black … is that unusual for the 31st? The regional chapter of the satanic marketing committee says that this theme runs through 55 percent of the time. Just kidding, they disbanded 2,000 years ago. And white tends to cancel black anyway, so no harm done. Yet another heavy metal aside, the late great Ronnie James Dio made a career with lyrics about The Black And The White, The Dark And The Light, The Good And The Evil. And one more aside, his in-concert video to support his Sacred Heart CD — you get the literally bleeding messiah heart I presume — was played in a way that took over from sports bar TV at the iconic Dibbo’s rock club all through a Halloween past. Made my holiday. If only Ronnie could wield a sword better, being short in stature, when literally slaying a dragon at the back of the huge stage. Maybe should bring in some of your old Black Sabbath bandmates, the more burly ones, to do more than just Forget All That Macho Shit And Learn How To Play Guitar. (Sang John Cougar, and that name is not just his Halloween costume).
Where Do We Go Now, Where Do We Go … Right now, with social distancing and all, even if a costumed centipede stuck to themselve(s), and wanted to dance the night away, they would be in violation. But there is a place you still can get your groove on, late on basically any weekend night and Thursdays too, because the wayback room(s) large dance floor is not what you might expect, simply spacious. And if you are a lady and dressing like ladies do over the Halloween weekend, and your butt is indeed frozen off by the continuing wind advisory, even though you wanted to partake in the party at my suggested solution, BX Mexican in River Falls, there is a way to make it up, like the Irish did this year on St. Patrick’s Day. Make plans, between study days if you are a college student, for any of four consecutive nights on most weeks, to cut the rug.
Any then the commentary from “professionals” as a how to on this holiday. The late publisher on the weekly where I cut my teeth as a reporter/editor, always spelled Halloween with an appostrophe between the last two vowels, so totally old school and possibly easier on the non-consinents than All Hallows. And a local psychiatrist says this about describing the unusual behavior seen: You get a bunch of people in this profession together at a conventiion and after the speakers, go out and have a beer …

There is both voting and the vanquished in the next days … One of those right wing groups sent out a request for big Republican bucks to my brother-in-law, who was called Madam Kenneth Conant III, who formerly has held Office, both politically and as far as his style of conservative religious worship by that name. And here I thought that conservatives usually bash those thought to be “transgender” people. Unless they have money. Or just call him Madam, The Third.
As I was trying to Not See What I Could Not Comprehend, and definitely would not want to, there was someone at the door, and not a cub scout in this case of he who wanted Righteous Dollar Bills. Not Clinton, as that would only be 50 Cent. Oh OK, it seemed the guy actually wanted my vote. Not for him, but his candidate of choice. The guy was dressed in blaze orange, which makes me think he either had a target on his back or was fearful that there was such a thing spread out between his “chicken wings.” So I somewhat graciously took his frequent flyer and later used an orange thumb tack to try to press it through a stack of other thick-plastic, Political Junkie Heaven Material. The tack would not push through! Maybe there could be others uses for this tack, when it comes to candidates. Think The Dark Ages.

(More darkness? Dark chocolate? Dark old costumes? See “Picks of the Week” for Dark Surprises of Halloween events).

The primo option for Halloween Haunt Trick or Treating this year will offer literally hundreds of scary-but-not-too-much-so creatures at a place new to the whole scene, and they are only getting started, with new waves of monsters being erected literally as we speak. This will be done through Saturday Night (Live, or rather Dead, you choose). So now re-read this post (details at its bottom) as you and your host can plan for it being bigger and better next year. Same bat time, same bat channel.
The drive-through, Big Time candy giveaway is at BOH Electronics, (standing for Boatloads Of Haunts?), for a full three hours, for you late-goers. They are at 230 Monroe Street North, in what has been known even prior to this foray in an Ancient Netherworld, as The Old Car Shops, and their huge red-brick building, looks a trifle scary to boot. But only to the point where the kiddies won’t be too frightened going into the monster mix, and adults with more of a fear tolerance will love it, as well. That well-revamped-from-the-old-days plant the size of a football field and also high as many a pro punt, gives plenty of wall space for hanging creatures — such as the ones put up right away, skeletons that is. They are seen hanging out creepily while draped around what could be a mongo cage, on fire escapes on the second-floor level. They are in various states of head-detached-ness, although the skull was never far away, just like mother deer and Bambi in the woods — is that an appropriate reference in this post?  And soon they were seen literally climbing the three-story walls, (Think the cover art in Houses of The Holy by Led Zeppelin. Or unholy?) Or pasted to them, like so many other creatures, even “living” Screaming Trees, come big and come small, but in that case we’re talking Very Big. How many All Hallows displays take it to that height, as this place in North Hudson?
The employees are well behind that aspect and others also, bringing their “gifts” to a spacious back room, the size of seven, where all kinds of cryptic clowns and others are waiting for final assembly, which is being done hourly and on the fly between now at 5 p.m. Saturday. (This might be tricky, since there is wind advisory issued, meaning erection of a few things is being held off on until the very end, or things might fly away on their own accord, not be grounded like the creatures who are humans for a day job and plan to act up for you). That’s when the fun starts for trick or treaters and their candy search, which continues all the way through 8 p.m. So if you are one of those young boys, or others, who comes When The End Is Near and tries not to look scared, you have leeway from the zombies, at least where timing is concerned.
The decked-out building is located just a whip around the entry to the industrial park in North Hudson, bending to the north right after passing by the dance academy (and its thusly scared little girls?) The neighbor To The Near East was asked if the sign that is all over town could be put in her yard and she said that of course is OK, but could she head on over a bit ahead of time. Couldn’t wait for the goings-on to start, she said, both for this year and the version of the show coming next year. The signs were up in more and more places around the village as The End Was Near for Halloween to be come and gone, the efforts to place them at intersections all around increased, since this whole idea was hatched only the previous month. They show Motor Madness, drive-through reference, with a logo of a Grim Reaper with Black Flag riding what looked to be a combo of a Harley and a flattened out golf cart.  Since the idea is only a few weeks old, and the many other businesses around the industrial park said they really want to get involved and erect similar displays, making it an All In The Family Affair, so to speak, that part of it will have to wait until the next go-around. There is plenty of gravel space between the various Old Car Shops, and the mind melts when thinking about the various ways that they could team up and fill it with fun next year. After all, what this is all about after Sunday arrives, is that building of community has taken place, to take something that is indeed a bit ghoulish and turn it into something positive. And hey, lets face it, this too is just a good way to do business.

And if you’re busy with other trick-or-treating endeavors and hurry, you can still catch  a glimpse of all the creepies stayed-put after the deed is done and still hanging out to greet you, before they disappear into the night … Otherwise, see you next year!

(And for the adults, the only Game in Town heading northward is at T-Buckets in rural Somerset, and see a description of the show and its followup with pro football on Sunday, in this web site’s Picks of the Week department).

Around the neighborhood, and its not Mr. Rogers Neighborhood, although he also seems to have his mostly hidden Halloween self.
As seen on the North End of North Hudson, what is the first half of the license plate number for Big Bird’s big, bad Bentley? EVU. The Evil Emu … Eases gently from his Austin to his Bentley, so says Deep Purple …
And a jog to the south, there were a Lucky 13 of those little evil faces on lighted sticks that line a walkway and welcome trick or treaters. OK, plus one more, and not a smily face.
At a scene between, could be seen all kinds of small ghosts, the size of a squirrel, all in the same yard. They were hard to distinguish from the blobs of ice of a similar size that were scattered around them.
Propped up next to a bird feeder were more ghosts, crafted to look like something a bird other than Big Bird would binge on, but with a tail of an, again, squirrel. And that tail is dragging below into a veritable pumpkin patch.
The award for the most dwindling stretches of “spider web,” on the front door and the front windows and in the front row … but along strung along two different stretches of tap beer dispensers … But hey, rest assured, since this is at the now even more popular Starr’s Bar, those taps get good use, and for certain are not the bearer of stale ale.
Up the way, there is a spider the size of something you might see in a B-movie horror show, spreading out over much of the yard, thus putting it on our A List. It even obscured the political signs lined up along the house’s front wall, with furry dark legs reaching out toward the signs in a way that is even more scary than the coming elections! But there also are such creatures with yellow stripes mixed in, and I gotta say it, evoke images, some good and some unfashionably bad, of the old Christian metal group Stryper. Say hey, All Saints Day rather than Halloween? One of these was checked out big time by another creature who appeared love struck, again a squirrel. We all agree … We’d rather hear the music of the group The Offspring than take a gander at the offspring those two would propagate. Timely, since the group’s second best song, in my estimation, Self Esteem, was recently tabbed as the sixth best of its decade. So what do I know? I do know that, ungodly, the spider in a tree was knocked to the ground from … doing the nasty?

You can call it Election Day. Or you can call it Halloween Eve. Which is sillier? (Or are they the same). Toss-up worthy of counting chads accurately after my favorite bartender for wit, to wit being named Chad, has served you until last call, which is at 7:59 p.m. on Tuesday. But for the best in vaguely inaccurate at times satire on these things, continue reading this blog in coming days! Boo!
Here’s one example:
My No. One Fan, where art thou? That’s what she said. There are six business days left until Election Day, and my favorite editor as mentioned, in charge of overseeing the reporting on voting tallies at the just-in-time-for-elections newly discovered Eighth Continent — or wait that would be science And We All Know That’s Fake News — has not sent me my Gilded AP Press Packet yet. (Blame the Post Office). And I love the button of a press badge that says I’m somebody now since with Associated Press, which under the rule of Voter ID must be updated every four years.

Sturgis has celebrated many decades of annual travel and more destination, but there were partial road work closures to greet the cycles going up a hill before they hit the actual town recently. That logically would have created a clog not good for social distancing, but bikers are known for forging through, if not leaving their old ladies behind as an, in this case, spacing mechanism. That aside, for a change its not the virus that’s the villian, although that still could also also be seen upon arrival. Still, my main Sturgis old man, who literally has roared to the Dakotas for most all of those years of celebrations, said he would do it all again, like Ozzy has often said and they are about the same age, even come 20 years from now when the rally turns 100 — and he as well — and that would make in years my main Sturgis man well … Can I get back to you after his back is done aching from the last time? And see if his much younger cohort, a motorcycle mechanic from Baldwin who set up shop in one of its Dutch-style, windmill-type places, all the way up, will roam along through the boredom of southern Minnesota/northern Iowa farm fields to get there and immediately become more enthralled and enamored.
Oh wait a minute, I saw BOTH of them last night, at a new local hot spot as Sturgis would now have to wait until next year to be redone, even with all the broadened and flattened cycles the size of a small car that are out there. Did Forrest, the younger guy, actually go with to hit the rally, I asked. They kinda looked at each other back and forth — maybe that was kinda the absurdity of the question — then nodded in agreement that it was a duality, (and again sorry about the heavy metal reference, but they are into it as well).
Other holidays, and other days of note, that were effected by the weather and also the virus since it took full hold, include in rough order of impact, The Two Village Laden Motorcycle Runs, (again a theme), a boy and his annual Lake Mallalieu ice rink that can be seen rather than boat launches from the bridge when allowed by the iffyness of well frozen, Four-20, Mom’s and Dad’s days, July Fourth, Cinco De Mayo, and of course Easter. Of special note, in a way that built as months went on into the summer, are the antique car show in North Hudson, which began with autos forming a semi-circle around the site, then branched off to a building mode where eventually there were cars parking with their numbers growing in the center of things. And where 4-20 may have tanked, (my vape shop friend and possible advertiser was sitting right behind Forrest, the cycle guy on two fronts), although the possible celebrants as such may not fully remember, it continues to live on in the house building project on a very small scale, which you might think would be needed, in red painted numbers on the side of front wall. Or would that simply be the eventual address, when the walls are drywalled and siding erected and the numbers might be seen as buried treasure — again to those who remember. On one house down in what should have been descending order of address was a No. 425 painted on a big brick and also featuring an arrow. And doing it even worse as far as numbers of roofers in a tiny space, one name we won’t be able to forget as social distancing for years is was again, Going Down For A Time, Sturgis. And in the same time frame, but not as far over to the west, was the State Fair that wasn’t. Minnesota, I’d wanted to try two things — guess which ones — but there was no possibility as all sense of fair was I did find a voucher/ ticket stub for free entry, but would they honor it … even the way back machine says no, as it was from 2009. That was far older than the Way Back Burgers hawked by a restaurant somewhere way back from the freeway between St. Paul and Hudson, and no, we are not talking the Happy Days hometown drive-in or even whatever is the place that Sherman hails from. And does that decades-old Terrible Towel I found, State Fair style, count for anything as far as entry these days?
And we must mention the festivals that have gone by the wayside, such as Bluegrass Days and on the same site two months later River Falls Days, Pea Soup Days, Booster Days, Good Neighbor Days, the St. Croix County Fair (which suddenly had no need to a attract a crowd from the Near West), and most recently Pepper Fest, although the latter was one of those that lived on via golf tournaments to the near east that were part of the deal. Need more than the movies as a preview on screen at the PepperFest Village Park. But for one screen that was repeatedly over the top … there was shown on it an ad for an ongoing weekly ravioli feed at Kozy Korner.
<And St. Pat’s Day is not the only half-year anniversary>
At home, we made up for it with three-layer shepherd’s pie, hamburger on the bottom, then mashed potatos then corn, divied up as far as volume, and again to taste, quick and cheap, simple and easy. And again, the various seasonings are probably in your cupboard right now and are not necessily that exotic.
A recent post dealt with the September half-St. Patrick’s Day, which of course has been seen to compensate for the St. Paddy’s Day That Never Was. Would also Easter have a six-month anniversary of observance? The answer might be yes in my neck of the woods, where so much story fodder falls into my lap. Take the family just up the block that is very diligent about celebrating religious holidays as, yes, a family and award-winning for it. The Christmas tree was up past certain holidays such as Valentine’s Day and even toward St. Patrick’s Day, as the above barometer. Then an Easter flag and likewise lawn poster took their place, and are still up today. Up and around in the next block has been a group of almost a dozen spring/Easter animals, largely the stuffed kind, attached to tree trunks and the like as part of what we would describe as a wild island, just past the curb. (A sign was added lately that said, jokingly because their display is cool, weeds for free. You just have to pick them). And even now, there are two more animals left from the spring thaw that also even made it through the summer heat, a frog creature that now is obscured by some of those weeds, and a teddy bear twined to a tree trunk with wire that has small barbs. Hey, he is imprisoned, I would say, until the next Easter season comes around.
Going back, Groundhog Day was proven to be a trick, as that furry animal saw what was likely to come and gave up the ghost, more than a half-a-year before these days and the approaching Halloween. And with that movie, I have to reference Bill Murray and his long-term Dick’s Bar connections, knowing the long-time owner well. And then for April Fools Day … that previous statement was true, by the way … who but some of our voters have been the fool? Still exercise that right to the most beneficial degree possible

Into The Evening with garage rock bands may be the closest thing we have to a concert these days, as actual gigs are still limited, but find out about those in the following:
— What of the days of the garage group, as was the essence of a small and intimate version of an open mic night at the birthday party of our friend Liz, two times over, (and her modeling take on Marilyn was pictured up on the wall). That’s how, going to the wall, many times I saw Bob the guitarist in consecutive days recently, when he said in the Ice Cream Man aisle, Hey Joe, and I Am Pleading With My Eyes with you, if you know of anywhere I can bring my real six-string and turn it into a gig, even if it’s just open mic or underground, please let me in on the show dates. And lets get the band back together again for some of those open mic sessions that go back over two decades, he implored me. He had been without his All Along The Watchtower, courtesy of yours truly, for way too long. Then we met inadvertently a couple of added times over, and the void was met in a way. But again, what about Bob? He just said he had found a new place to play on occasion — of course a garage band in an actual garage. And not the five-car-wide kind. That was at the Village Inn, where I again encountered him in short order, as in a second time there, on a much slower night, and he was Tumbling The Dice as in The Stones, but don’t know if he was Getting Any Satisfaction. Appears to be on the short end.
— Is this Mike ready to grab the mic again, as in days, or even decades gone by? “Yeah, good one. There are few gigs any more.” So just regular work and lots of it. Much like a lunar eclipse in regard to regular occurrence, said this large Lueneberg of a man and former guitarist for the band Red Over Lunar. Thusly, they were always spread out on the stage, right and left, and hard for me to photograph. He did say the last time I saw him, about a year ago and also at the former Freedom Valu Center in North Hudson, check online for the new band of former bandmate Kerry Boesel, but this didn’t show great search results.
— It was the Indy 500 on our street and extending into the cul-de-sac — see further on — with two children on their bikes becoming the new version of what had been termed The Cul-de-sac Kids by my neighbor Ron, the ringleader of the crew and its small version baseball even if only an asphalt infield, but at least they had Game. They were going round and round, over and over, on Cherry Circle, but then took a break, and it kind of turned out to be a drum break. I soon heard a beat of various tempos coming from where they had rested their spokes and themselves. I never was able to determine what actually was causing the thumping noises. Maybe the kids a bit later, who were running circles on their X Games-type bikes around their leaf covered lawn. For more about such kids, and fitting percussion into most any scenario, see the next two items.
— And what about those kids in the Lakefront Park bandshell, (screw the Hudson Star-Observer stylebook, as was put together by former publisher Jay Griggs), who were doing what comes naturally to kids in such a setting, no not skateboarding, which you used to see a lot, but yoga!
— And Doug my friend, the thrower of all those great holiday parties where no one got drunk but everybody got off on the conversation and great globs of gourmet grub you put out, but only with a bunch of people clamoring around a small kitchenette — ouch! And … oh yeah .. where perchance is that potent predeliction for persistent percussion, faux as it was, that you were also known for flying into if only using arms at a moments notice. Also is/was the official Vikings tailgate deejay, prior to the virus keeping people from rocking out, (granted his style is more pop-ish). Karaoke as thus, is now back but hard to find. The killer version at Ziggy’s in both Hudson and Stillwater on Tuesdays, is now the only place that married couple plays on an active basis, when they not long ago were all over the scene. The Hudson Bowling Center still has their twice a weekend karaoke, but only on alternate weeks, which is which is kinda hard for people like us to memorize, and that is also true of other avenues I will be publicizing on The Food Western Front. But one of the first venues to open back up to their long-running twice a weekend live music — and this is every weekend and should surprise no one — is the Willow River Inn in Burkhardt. But they are indeed matched in a very real way by another Inn, the talent often seen at The Bungalow in Lakeland, with the very “authentic” karaoke that was to segue into a costume contest via crooning on Halloween and via the staff dressed up in Roaring ’20s garb, and the like is still going these Fridays, because after years running, It Is How It Feels To Be Real. (Really real? Weekend update: There will not be the karaoke on Friday nights, because at least for now, live music has been “banned” all over Minnesota with no exceptions for holidays, I was just told. Things change fast in the virus era.
— Lastly on the theme of music is where you can find it, especially these days, is in the form of various pieces of broken plastic strewn across not just Cherry Circle but also Fourth Street, and a closer look revealed they were really all kinds of CDs and their housings. There they all were, a trip from when you could also find cassette tapes, works by Bryan Adams, like the lead item that referenced a first real six-string, and then Chris Issak. I asked a friend of mine who is into those kind tunes if he had heard of them (yes, sort of), and could sing them (not yet but he’d try). then there was the CD of The Calling (Two). We were perhaps the least familiar with that one, maybe the record labels had not exactly come calling for another take. Don’t Call Us Child, We’ll Call You? Then the fourth and final CD on the street, balancing on a manhole. Like the rhythm guitarist that rounds out the band, is an artist whose name escapes me. But my friend had sung a bit of his stuff. But what about the rest? Could he listen to some of the tracks and sing them? Only if he could go Jimmy Jamming the partly broken CD into his equally banged up tape player. Until then, since he was rehabbing a badly broken arm at a local nursing home, he would have to settle for listening to streamed music at services from St. Patrick’s Church in the big main room, but nearly as sizeable as a concert hall. He’s thought that however, for that particular purpose, the tunes were made out to be too modern. He was joined by a few others, two bands worth, who seemed to agree, but hey, eight is enough, especially in these days of social distancing. But For Those About To Rock, it will soon again be a mainstay, we hope, at St. Pat’s as the lead service to kick off every weekend; the liturgist is well versed in stuff that rocks out, not just Gospel and choral. And for something even more up-tempo, there is the youth band playing weekly at Bethel (Lutheran) Highlands, and other places such as Cornerstone/Crossroads (not the Eric Clapton version) that go toward progressive, as a guide for you.

The running of Frost Your Nuts 2020 was as nutty as ever, with the bluster of many of its macho motorcyclists showing early and often, As I Feel So Much Depends On The Weather.
A crotch rocket pulled out of the Kwik Trip parking lot around 11:30 a.m. by screaming southward at 40 mph. Others in groups followed suit, showing more street cred than respect for the signed speed limits, which dwindled from 35 to 25 at a point just north of them. Let’s face it, with law enforcement, such longtime functions are grandfathered in and it takes quite an offense to get pulled over. But there were socially positive things, such as all around, the typical honks and waves to passers-by, especially when it came to coasting past Kozy Korner, a benchmark in North Hudson.
But not all were so. A man in such a crew had just stepped into Guv’s Place, recently acquired by the Kozy Korner venue just a few doors down, then ventured out the door again and announced .. uhm, I’m not sure to whom … What, are you following me?
Across the street at Kwik Trip, there was another example of social distancing and masking not being at the forefront of people’s minds — especially if you are out for your first jog on your cycle in a while and have accumulated some stir-craziness. The guys as so often has been the case, got almost to the door before thinking that oh, I’m not wearing a mask at the moment, I’ll have to backtrack and see if there is one in my hog’s saddlebag, (is that the right term?)
Out at the other end of the parking lot, there were a couple of trucks each decked out in flags both U.S. and Trump supporting, getting ready to state their case to all those passers-by who were likely of their same ilk. And in the closest space to the door, there was a classic truck in great shape, having no rust, that featured a bumper sticker on the rear view mirror alluding to the need to be complascent (my word) and follow the Constitution, as it was argued, when it comes to support for rights both individual and constitutional, or you will have neither.
So on the way back home, I saw that yes, it was either the last or second to last weekend with the unbelievably balmy conditions — were these and other possible constraints that start but do not end with the virus, present in the Flood Run in September? — that met the rally, to go to the cabin and not go nutty on a Harley. A man I talked to over the summer has on weekdays an RV parked in a necessary way that still takes up most of his driveway, especially since the RV has a third-lane wing because more people then he use it in their treks Up North. It was not to be seen, although will likely be a fixture in front of his house before we get much further into October.
But all this transpired in the late-going, as when it got to be 11-ish in the morning, there were few if any cycles making the usually obligatory loop around Cherry Circle North, as a precursor to the grand release at noon. At times you could hear the roar from Fourth Street North, which is betwixt and between our cul-de-sac and the main highway. The only sign of life at that time was a neighbor who took his big hog out for a lap around, then pulled back into his driveway.
But when it was After Midnight and temps had cooled, there were not more cycles to be found, although their drivers usually hit the bars late and make a day and/or night of it. Instead, they were all nestled snug in their beds, with visions of Harleys past dancing in their heads. And on Sunday night, at the end of the cycle weekend, the balm had left all but in a sun-screen form and there was cold rain, with only one cycle roar to be heard, although fleeting.
(In a related story, see a post coming soon about how various factors unique to these days had an impact on Sturgis, it has a one-word name like a supermodel or Sabbath/Priest/Maiden. And how one local oldster plans to hit it again and again, with an anniversary coming, and just might keel over on the road, like Ozzy will probably die on stage doing .. what? .. what they both love).