As we referenced earlier, in a redo from previous publishing, was the loud football cheering heard from across the street from Starrs Bar. (A man yelled into his Wisconsin beer over the rest of the din “Packers score,” as if that clarification was needed).
Also heard on the street corner by the Smilin’ Moose as two people compared notes on their teams, with a commonality. What? You’re green? No, gold. It seems as far as the team of loyalty, they could go either way — and being color blind is also possible. But are all of them, especially if you’re a Raiders fan, black and white?
One driver of my car — do I indeed have a chauffeur? — said this of the hottie at the intersection on Game Day: “You got the green going.” And then the second time around, yeah its your color, a viewpoint that was stated a stone’s throw from The Village Inn sports bar. And third time’s the charm, this was said in line at the Freedom Value Center: “What, now, its a green thing?” Why is that vital? Next in line was someone with a Viking purple jersey without any number on the chest. Is that legal?
Next is a story about Magic Mike and two football-themed cakes, one with frosting of purple and gold, and the other green and gold, although Mike himself is not anything of a football fan. The note I left was about who gets their vote, my wife from Edina (Vikings), myself from central Wisconsin (Packers), and Mike (undesignated delegate from parts unknown).
And then there was the woman with a violet shirt and bright green hat — bipolar? OK, the shirt was fading. But one thing that was not fading is the purple stripes on a jogger’s shirt, to go with her, again, bright green hat. The the third time around, likewise, was the jogging lady with a St. Paul Saints sweatshirt and Minnesota Twins hat. These are slow speed joggers, not fast running backs.
I didn’t think God took sides with the whole football thing, even though it is usually played on Sundays. The sidewalk chalk wording outside the Purple Tree store, which is operated in a social justice sense largely by people of faith, read Skol Vikings! But note that this is the PURPLE Tree.
— The announcement has been made. All nearby parking patrons behold. Ever noticed the new parking payment kiosks downtown, many of which have been around for weeks, stating on their hoods that they will be coming soon. Uhm, aren’t they here already?
— One of those obnoxious machines that tell you what speed you are driving has actually been put up in North Hudson at — get this — a stop sign at a T-intersection. If you get a 28 mph reading, woe be to you!
— One of those big posters that display football schedules has in this case made its listing without even mentioning what is the home team, while the logo of its sponsor, Coors Light, takes up the lower one-third of the poster. The only reference to the Wisconsin Badgers is on a tiny decal in one corner, planted there as part of a football.
— This could be the sow’s ear that is the antithesis to the recent Bacon Bash at River Falls. A television commercial shown in town was called a whiskey bacon burger. This one gets my vote! And across the way in Hudson, the band The Whiskeys was performing. Coincidence? However, by all accounts, the versatile veteran but predictable bands at the fest were as solid of performing as is typical.
— Its hard to get overheated in fall, but this woman at the Smilin’ Moose appeared to be there. Despite the fact that she already was sporting a bare midriff, she was flapping the bottom of her short shirt to get her chest vented.
— Bigtime reconstruction continues on the old More-4 building downtown. So I guess you can no longer chug some high-calorie booze courtesy of the Spirit Seller, then work off the extra weight at the next-door, all-hours fitness center.

And Wayne whaled on a Wicked guitar, and then came all those patrons waiting on watch for Watchtower, cuz you never know when …
— Booster Days lives on through Jeff Loven. The one-man-bander put away his guitar and yielded the stage recently to the guitarist, named Wayne, from Wicked Garden for more than one set, much longer than the normal stand-in appearance. This was after the grunge tribute band was one of the acts at Booster Days a few weeks earlier. But they collaborated on all kinds of guitar-driven rock, beyond just Nirvana and Stone Temple Pilots, so Dick’s Bar for a night became Wayne’s World. Like when the car the next lane over, and there are a lot of such lanes, on the infamous triple-left-turn-lane here that was the first of its kind for the country (good for that), had its younger then grunge members banging their heads. To of all things System of a Down. Very mosh-able.
— At another recent one-man-band night, in honor of Bob Dylan’s birthday, I just had to sing my second, lesser standard with Jeff Loven (first off is Should I Stay Or Should I Go by The Clash). That number is All Along the Watchtower, which I can go to, but only rarely, once in a while if I request to do so — and yes although Jimi Hendrix made it famous, Dylan was the guy who actually penned it a short time earlier. But what Jeff, no Happy Birthday song, which is kind of your schtick? And because Dylan in no spring chicken, I won’t even suggest the comedic, heavy metal B-Day version he does, which is tongue-in-cheek about the idea that with every birthday you get closer to … you know … And now there is Mick Jagger’s birthday. Does that mean that in the ultimate cowbell competition held each Sunday, featuring a guest “player” who is usually a hottie, would automatically be the Standard Stones played, (think Honky Tonk Woman), not other classic compilations with “the bell.”
— And Back in Black. There is That Girl at Dick’s from a while back who looks just like Abbs on NCIS, down to the Goth, who now is being retired from the cast. So with that extra time on her hands, you might see even more of her downtown … She’s back!
— The recent downtown Hudson bar crawl was well attended, even very early, as people were working on themes, some of them involving weddings and even prompting a bride to show up in her white dress.
— Hey, it is (or was) Lumberjack Days, and that’s where people were trekking, with vehicle-type after vehicle-type, more than what you usually see, even though summer is here. Especially the same old ZZ Top-type truckish thingee and also, a few times over, trucks that were basically rust bucket red, not to mention some long and lean vintage Cadallacs, (no Dead Head sticker, with apologies to the Eagles). The heat, though, could make these cars overheat before they could cross the bridge. Or, they could be a vicarious part of that motorcycle run in River Falls, the other end of things, that ended up at the Lazy River Bar in River Falls after also being in Beldenville, El Paso (yes there is such a place in Wisconsin) and Menomonie. Sorry, no more information, as the owner at Lazy River hung up on me. Twice. But the drivers might have to take a different route then up the Wisconsin side, as the new bridge had a lane closure, which would mean that the leading band in Stillwater, Soul Asylum, could not stop back again at Pudge’s for off-sale, as they did at least once back in Ozz Fest days, without going out of their way. (Now that its Ziggy’s, Dave Pirner could conceivably make amends for his former lack of a tip). And one other tip: You could get one of those cool temporary tattoos, like my friend Jenny, who loved it but could not decide what bird her’s was, falcon or pheasant.
— Football is now here, if only the preseason version, so I’ll focus instead on the X-Games that were on the tube for four hours the other night from Minneapolis, (could this have been a rerun? Would stoners know the difference?) But anyway, patrons from right here in Hudson said there were a lot of people partying downtown on both Friday and Saturday nights, most barely of age, so that would lend credence … But they didn’t stay until close. A curfew?
— Hey, she’s only nine, but she’s with the band. This youngster took lessons at Brickhouse Music in River Falls, so she can play and sing as part of a showcase that goes with people who get lessons there. But what are the songs? Not exactly the dance music you’d expect from a pre-teen. We’re talking Iron Man by Black Sabbath, Sunshine of Your Love by Cream, and one more by Deep Purple. So, she said to her mom, what is Ozzy singing about? That one mom could handle. But what about Cream and what is meant by “my seeds are dried up?” For that one you might want to talk to your vocal instructor! But seriously, mom had a version of the birds and the bees talk with her, and it all went fine.
— Two young women were exploring an interesting pasttime while leaning over the railing at that upper patio of the Smilin’ Moose — they were dropping things on unsuspecting guys below. And what were they tossing? Sticks of gum, then announcing that several times to each recipient as they passed. Juicy Fruit or Big Red? To freshen their breath for (?!?)
— A woman was walking down the sidewalk with her friend, and like you see so often, carrying her shoes in her hand. Or make that just one shoe. And that was the (bare) foot that stepped on an already crushed plastic cup as she neared the curb. Then there was this predicament, FROM HER PAST: A friend said she was told to walk the line after being stopped by the police, but she was wearing four-inch, spike-healed boots and found she needed to negotiate the icy pavement that may have even been at an angle. Still, she said she made it through.
— This could be the start of a bad joke: Two guys were walking a canoe down the sidewalk … But they indeed were, to get three more blocks to a late night on the river, which was full of other canoeists, boaters and fishers as an adjunct to a local summer music festival.
— I was just coming up the way from passing a salon on the main drag, which had an ad in their window about providing long lashes and wonderous nails that read they are to die for. That’s when I saw an old friend while going into Agave that was just dripping with such lovely eye appendages, and looked like she was anything but being on death’s door. No pale zombie factor here, and the whole thing played out again when I just saw her a second time the other night. But earlier, she followed me to go upstairs to the Bullpen Cantina before the obvious compliment came from me — but beforehand the also lovely bartender Andrea, who is well-known for singing the national anthem at prominent sporting events, at times even being transported to do so, noted that such music was flowing from speakers that — also — were located across the street.
— One of the new downtown parking payment kiosks, set up on the sidewalk in complete form to take fines, had this note attached late one night: We will soon have new pay kiosks available, but they are not here yet. OK? Back to the Future? What was that montrosity that the note was on.
— When crossing West Seventh Street in St. Paul to try out one of the proliferation of hockey bars, I noticed there was a beautiful blonde a step or so behind me. She had been directly aside me as we waited for the better part of a minute for the light to turn from red. So why does it take so long, I proposed to her? The light doesn’t switch to green until mold grows all over it, I blundered. She managed only the faintest of a smile, but when my backwards gaze lingered for a moment, (I’ve been accused of doing that), the corners of her mouth did turn up a bit. The people in the Cities can truly be this Minnesota Un-Nice, I’ve known since being essentially a Hudson bureau person for the St. Paul Pioneer Press back in the former millennium, cranking out stories that the Star-Observer wouldn’t touch then running them into the SPPP late, and needing to cross a few sidewalks and encountering smug people, to get to their oversized Cedar Street headquarters. People are actually much more friendly in Hudson, won’t mind someone they don’t know just saying hello.
— Well before the (official) fireworks went off in July, a haze could be seen over Second Street as you came into Hudson from the north and again, North Hudson. Apparently somebody got the party going early, bigtime, with the big stuff, and it again apparently made the vision, literally and figuratively, of all those people in our multitude of magazines see a bit hazy. And the locals have it over on those from around the world as far as seeing clearly. Somehow the marketing departments didn’t coordinate anything amongst their various magazine clients. Nicole Kidman was seen glowing on the covers, with her red Irish hair, of two different and competing women’s magazines sitting right next to each other on the rack. Then only minutes later I saw a quite young server lass to whom I told, trying to be complimentary and not creepy, that her face and hairstyle looked just like the classic but indeed getting a bit older actress. The just-past-late-teen server’s unintentionally funny reply: “Who’s Nicole Kidman?”
— These are two different ends of the same vehicle frame that was cruising. First I saw a very classic truck (read very old) that was through-and-through rust colored because of its paint job, not colored because of its rust, even though the steel chassis was starting to come apart on the edges. Then there was a much newer sports car, top shape, of a similar color aside from the fact it was more like burnt orange. And on and on with the scenario …
— What this place needs is a good cigar. Or a pair of good looking women smoking a good cigar. Thus, it was good to see two ladies sitting outside the downtown cigar shop and lounge, joining the guys and enjoying a wide range of good tastes, sights and sounds using stogies.