The St. Croix County Fair is on again, and there are some new acts to the event with some boasting local roots, or having stayed there, old favorites are back, and the last headliner is brand new, with an old twist. All the music is free, and the lineup continues to grow, in Glenwood City from July 16 to 20.

The signs of the times can be seen out and about all over St. Croix County, even on the west end, with displays such as big paper mache tractors and/or horses, all decked out with big plaid checks, and signs including one that touted in even larger letters the involvement of the Springbrook 4-H Club, one of many.

— There’s also another fest. It’s a Full Tilt Boogie, from five bands, all this coming weekend 2025. No z’s at all, from top to bottom.
This is what to expect from July 18-20. The Gaslite in Ellsworth revs up cool choppers and vintage vans, showcasing classic and custom builds that are sure to impress. Love the modes of transport. But you can never leave. Just kidding.
Also there, enjoy performances from local and regional bands, including Erik’s Iridescent Tent and Rad Enhancer, Ancient Days and Extermination Day, (themes here), and whole lotta letters RPVHCB (Regional Power Van Halen Cover Band.) Cool typography in the building of the band names.
Utilize on-site camping: So stay close to the action with convenient options of that rule.
Vendors and swap meet: Browse a variety of booths offering unique merchandise and parts of all kinds.

Keep it rolling past the fair on Sundays, namely the last two in July. On the 27th, they’re not (so much urban and here suburban) the (Foghat) Fools For The City (of Hudson as in the old Dibbo’s) or the (Village People.) They are in the just northernly township, playing as the Lowdown Dirty Fools, at Big Guys BBQ in the roadhouse, in the afternoon and into the eve. On the prior Sunday, the 20th, it’s take a bite of it and savor it, with the Greazy Gravy Blues Band. —

But to start, in Glenwood City: The Making Memories karaoke and photo booth — sound anything like The Memories music show? — is the highlight Thursday at 6 p.m. at the Croix Court tent. This is followed up, the next day at noon and again at 2 p.m., with the Eardoctors Barbershop Quartet. Before that, at 10 a.m., it’s the Sunshine Singers, though hours past dawn.

Then on Friday it’s back to the oldies but goodies, the Whitesidewalls (Old School before it was Old School) Rock ‘n Roll Review, at 7 p.m. A different genre and you can pretty much guess it, the Crabgrass Band, is making a return engagement from last year at 7:30 p.m. How is this possible? This is doubling down and getting twice the music for your dollar, (but wait it’s free except for the pronto pups and such), and it is possible if you stroll (down memory lane?) across the way to the Tiffany Creek Pavillion north of the horse arena, which is busy in itself.

It’s more of the same, again at noon and 2 p.m., on Saturday, generally the fair’s hoppingest day, with the Good Neighbor Ukulele Band — really it’s OK and it’s really cool, even in the recent heat — back at Croix Court.

Then on Saturday, we harken back to the same format, with two very different bands or should we say music acts, at 7 and 7:30 p.m., at those two same respective arenas. First it’s the 37th year at the fair baby, (I think it’s straight, maybe give or take a year or two), by The Memories — Musical Variety Show. It’s been a duo or trio, throughout all those performances, forming that base back in high school. Then in a different twist, it’s the first time at the fair and a headliner, for Half Shebang, in a recurring theme here called Honky Tonk Classic Country With An Attitude!

The last day, on Sunday, at 9 a.m. it’s back to The Memories, as they will help host a non-denominational church service. Unless the sermon goes extremely long, two hours after the church service starts, you can wrap up your fair experience with Ole and Elmer — Musical Comedy Duo. Between time is the Living Memor-ial Award. Sound familiar? All three are at Croix Court.

For more information, check out the fair’s website for an event schedule, as there are many more beyond music. And for a deep breakdown into all of the tried and true bands of varied older genres, check out HudsonWiNightlife.com’s previews in many past years, always about a week before the fair.

The heat is on and at least one local business closed for the whole week (pre-planned) of the Fourth of July and its weekend, and another was even a bit hot a full 40 feet from its kitchen most of the next week, so hey, imagine how hot it was in there.

So, which businesses would be featured at the parade of the annual Hudson Booster Days fest during the weekend, drawing crowds that for blocks are about three deep along both sides of Second Street? I was so hoping to get a view of the insurance chain commercial’s comedic jerk with a leaf blower. (One I wasn’t too favored to see was the blatant commercialism of getting a free ice cream cone with a gas purchase.)

However, the fireworks were a star, lasting seemingly longer than usual and that was the same for the encore, and drawing mostly glowing comments online, moreso than for their friendly competitors in Stillwater. But on the whole, in the parades I’ve recently seen, these days they don’t seem to be quite what they used to be … Thank goodness we could still see some water guns spraying, by of all things students of a swim school. Not mermaids.

But it was Monday around noon and the fest was past, though there were still the remnants of a fun house on the north end. And moments later, what was left of two ride machines ran its way past, going on Vine Street past the main drag of Hudson.

All that remained of the parade in blocks south were occasional bits of shredded paper on the blacktop. But it seemed you could still hear the blare of trumpets and horns.

There will be more parades this weekend in River Falls and New Richmond, for their pair of summer festivals, and in the latter there was an ad sign spitting out like a spiraling firework the words July 10-17, but no wait, that was for a jewelry store. And Booster Days was July 3-6. Nevermind.

— But this Saturday, July 12, as a part of Fun Fest in New Richmond, and also as a precursor to the St. Croix County Fair, there is to preview the latter a farm implement caravan through the eastern highways and byways of St. Croix County starting at 10 a.m. from the fairgrounds in Glenwood City. One might see farm tractors gigantic, just basic big and small and some in the middle, sloped on the top end back toward the wheel, with big yellow tires the width of a person, or even one looking like a cannon. Catch them as a spectator along county roads. In New Richmond, there is the band SPF-30 hailing from Stillwater that is a mixture of a brand of sunscreen and Scott Van Pelt’s sports show. Actually it is a blend of reggae, calypso and beach music, with “some curve balls thrown in” so see them on the back patio of the Wild Badger early evening. —

At the parade last Saturday, much like last year’s, here’s what we saw …

Yes the marching bands and dance lines and drum corps boasted much greater numbers then in most former days, and were thus very impressive — three or four people across and well over a dozen deep, at times taking more than a minute to meander by — however the whole parade in 2025 was over in an hour, pretty much on the head. That may have been due to, likely, a lack of more numbers because of rain and heat, but it showcased an overall pared down theme. Those several people gathered on the apartment building platform were yeah, it was lengthy, but though awed a bit, as they were by the fireworks, however kind of mum and noncommittal and reflective, though distracted.

— An American goes to … Texas and Wimbleton. You are measured by what you do first, if flooded by many choices. Like reinstate all federal DOGE weather service cuts before there is another once-in-100-year (or 200 year) natural disaster, which seems to happen every other day or so now because of climate change. So Trump goes airborne to survey the massive flood damage first, before meeting with families — which seems logical, to prepare, gather info and plan your strategy for the grilling you are going to get if not due to the weather, but before the press. Rather, just give him a chainsaw so he can do more cutting. And why doesn’t the national press just come out and say it, the reason for having spotters view is so bulldozers don’t plow over already maimed bodies. The area that has been underwater is from the Guadalupe River, and we know how much of a priority we make such people. And for FEMA? Like so many things, it is a matter of lack of available dollars to do things. Damnation by DOGE does even more damage

This visit was right before the weekend. And then on each Sabbath … Donald rested from His evildoing.

And why was the news made of an American reaching the polite tennis semi-finals? We usually seem to reach the top tier of any sport, given our access to the top training methods and technology in the known world! —

The whole parade thing is more and more stripped down, with the big and bold coming from fewer elaborately-styled floats, rather big vehicles — often with seemingly empty trailers, save the big decals and logos of their sides — and when there are objects displayed, they are abruptly large and tall, like moderate-sized monuments.

These days there is not so much all the pageantry of loads of multi-colored ribbons and circular frills, and bows and paper mache. What there is to be seen has been replaced with a whole slaught of red, white and blue, not the diversity of other colors. Need more things like the black-and-yellow of the big “bumblebees” to mix in.

While I do not want to over-politicize what I saw in the parades, there were flags and flamboyant decals and patriotism everywhere, (and where in the world was the Democrat float?), but in the seeming absence of too many other things to stand out, these were the first to catch the eye. And almost overwhelm it. God and country, with the latter first and foremost.

In 2024, on one of the GOP-backing floats was a huge representation of Trump, almost like a monument itself, but in 2025 (and its sentiment) it was just a bunch of youngster twirlers amidst a whole raft of US flags being wafted around by the local partisans.

Trinity Lutheran Church blasted God Bless America on its banner, god bless those conservative MS Lutherans, a background that I come from. I’d say God Bless Everyone.

(Kinda like a sign on the freeway said on one half of it Shimel, (blown away), and the other something like the above paragraph, but no mention of Trump.)

And why didn’t we see the Ukrainian flag?

And at the parade, I did love the red, white and blue armbands, colorful and yes patriotic and worn by just a few, like some of the single and duo walkers not with any particular group. Or in like manner, those candidates off by themselves and handing out candy to youngsters. (But the armbands still much like the leather-studded-metal ones worn at concerts.)

But this could border on controversial, like those all-wheel-numbers type of large vehicles ruling the parade road.

The big-monument theme was also displayed by an eagle with very broad wings and what could have been a nest, and it could have been called a rock, seen for a second time on the route. Later, the word “Titan” on the side of a rare float had letters almost two feet high. And I saw three different sizes of T-Rexs, and a soccer ball that was bigger because it was heavily inflated, and still easier to grasp into without dropping.

One more time for a could-be-controversial statement, the Options For Women applause was a bit tame. Maybe more popular with some in the crowd, Brooke Fleetwood’s pink houses marcher(s) featured a-bit-bare-yellowish outfit style.

Also so, most of the queens and princesses and the like were very decidedly white, both years, and in 2024 the exception was one rather inner-tier Twin Cities suburb. This year on a pair of the many floats there was slightly more of a bit-black-tinted representation, but only on the mere second princess and such level, not a queen mind you, in one display that was suburban and one rural.

Another such place, from very far afield, was the Elmwood of UFO Days that had kids handing candy while in the arms of big, plastic aliens, like the great grey lady of the skies in the song Empire of the Clouds. They’d better not try to spin like the queen that used a chair for that, to face from one side to the other.

Did she get as tired as those spinning and spiraling Raidaire dancers?

See how the other half lives? For the GOP, they’re making it like the other four-fifths, with the have and have-not ratio. (Update: And based on today’s actions, the doomsday may be coming even sooner than expected. —– See the end of this post, newly tacked on, for a survival plan.)

And now, after a (pending) act of Congress, many of those may have to live in their kitchens without some of what might be considered life’s essentials.

Yes, it may be hard, (or even excruciating), but it can be done, if I am an example. So very much like chopping up those oh-so-now-needed, because of GOP legislation, veggies with just an ordinary table knife. (Or merely chopsticks.)

— So bring a booster to the table. The midsummer night’s dream, a trio of main festivals has begun. Going beyond Main Street in each city.

Hudson Booster Days is underway, a strong leader over The Fourth, but I swear if I hear any Lee Greenwood played by its several bands right now, I just might kindly kick his country ass! And it wasn’t quite dope to hear God Bless The USA at karaoke last night. Too soon.

That was in New Richmond, where there will be Fun Fest all next weekend. New of note is that the safe cab ride sponsored by local bars is up to seven participating venues. So party hardy!

With Shane Martin? This relatively new name, to me, featured as a quartet as the main band on Friday night at River Falls Day on that same weekend, July 10-13. Also agape with gonzo games. —

The beauty of the Big Beautiful Budget Bill is now being weighed by lawmakers, and the cuts will slice what’s in many people’s grocery carts, because the amount of what is often called food stamps will likely be reduced — if you are looking at the overall federal budget devoted to it.

As one of its users, I am fully aware of the fact that this is not on my dime. So it’s more pork loin and no porthouse, at all, and I’m OK with that, as I’m not the one paying the grocery tab. I can live on mostly cheap veggies and make it work.

— Where Eagles dare, and not foodies and politicians. Thusly flies a much needed pundit. We need less Donald Trump huffing lines and more Don Henley writing lyrics, (sorry Mojo Nixon and his joking call for the demise of Don, if not Donald,) about how the mighty would and should fall. When a Molotav cocktail is the local (veggie) drink. Or to quote Black Sabbath: “The world of full of kings and queens who blind your eyes and steal your dreams, it’s heaven and hell. They’ll tell you black is really white. The moon is just the sun at night. In when you walk in golden halls, you get to keep the gold that falls …” —

I am on disability, and because of that get a basically full EBT rate. But that is not true of everyone on the program, especially in some states, as which one of the 50 you are in will make a big difference. I have to live on $175 of SNAP dollars, and for me it’s not that overly tight. But the average American reportedly spends upwards of $400 a month on groceries. Let’s use up some of that waste, as in wasted food.

I simply can’t work because of severe pain, which comes around almost daily and is too unpredictable for any 8-to-5 job, but I can gather the gumption to cook.

That’s tricky for people in some cases. An example profiled on ABC News, is a middle-aged woman who suffered two strokes and uses a scooter. (I’d think it would be hard for her to get her arms over the top of a kitchen counter, and maybe also to even use a can opener, putting many foods basically off-limits.)

She only gets $30 of food stamps a month. It goes almost exclusively for certain fruits and vegetables. Myself, I need to rely mostly on potatoes, bananas, carrots and iceberg lettuce.

Better get used to salad. And possibly more salad. Maybe an onion. And not much else. Since many of you will no longer be able to afford meat and so much more, that you had been getting via SNAP.

In this new era of low-income American grocery shopping, you’ll likely have to get only some of what’s on special, and even with that, and if that, just the very cheapest of staples, and very little variety with no splurges at all.

Potatoes, no more popcorn. Lettuce, and only iceberg, forget latte. A staple of what’s given out at food shelves, and you might have to get used to, is generic and cheap spaghetti sauce that’s largely very thin tomato paste, if you can even call it paste. Not Ragu or Prego. And lots of sodium-packed, watered down chicken soup.

Let’s call it what it is: The people who decide whether you get SSDI or not, for example, have as much of a vested interest in preserving taxpayer money as those GOP lawmakers, who stand up to no political foe. (As one food shelf worker bluntly put it: If our leaders had some balls …) They are all paid to keep you from getting paid.

The conclusion, when it came to my case, of the people who make SSDI decisions? (They later reneged, but I had to fight it.) “He can work but it’s hard for him.”

Hey buddy, I’d like to see you try it.

So it varies by state, and some want you to literally live on the food amount that slave wages can buy … So can all states be trusted? Like to live in Louisiana, if you’re lacking a leg?

Kids don’t understand budgeting, and that you have to buy this and not that, but this can become a teaching tool, for them and us, although that’s small consolation.

Do you want to be the one to tell little Johnnie or Jainie that there will be no Easter chocolate rabbit (maybe just a scant few jelly beans) or (fancy?) Christmas candy.

What if there could be a quarterly additional amount, distributed for that designated purpose, and families might choose one holiday in each three-month period to dispense with a bit of flexibility — say Easter, Memorial Day, Halloween and Christmas.

All this might force/teach budgeting and thereby nutrition skills, and older kids could even be brought into that fold.

It’s proposed, under legislation, to add a work and/or volunteerism requirement of 80 hours per month for able-bodied adults to get benefits. OK, but with concerns.

I fear that not all volunteerism types and reimbursement would qualify. What if, for example, a task’s hours are not supervised and thus documented? Like driving people around (who pays for the gas) and even sorting through your gently-worn clothes carefully and washing them well (again, cost of laundry soap) and donating what you don’t need. The same with distributing the food you don’t use, and it works especially well when they are boxed or canned. That’s a whole, another story.

How do you define “able bodied?” Not everyone who seems as such may actually be so. Ill health and pain, and all disability, can take many forms.

What if a person trying to get disability benefits is in severe pain, or depression, but can, for the most part, move about, a big room but not a warehouse.

Also, we could add individualized tutoring to SNAP’s enhancement-training list, as now to the best of my knowledge your option is to get into an existing course. No specialized training if you have problems with fractions, just isng up for Algebra II.

We will also have to enhance the scope of reasonable disability accommodation under ADA rules, if people are required to be employed, so the people on the margins who are forced into the work-force can find it doable. They may need extra child care help too, so suddenly a cost-saving program is anything but.

A last suggestion: Allow junk foods purchases, one of the main things the Republicans are going after, for people who can show they have a medically aiding reason for eating it. For example, I find that spicy potato or tortilla chips help tremendously with my severe anxiety, although the reason is left up to interpretation. So this too would need to be flexible, not from being on a pre-set list established by someone sitting behind a desk.

Let me tell you about a recent conversation, with someone who could be described as a liberal though traditional, although she would not like that first term.

I actively promoted the idea of throwing the term “in lockstep” and such into the vernacular more and more. (Controversial, it may be, but punchy and potent, biting and direct.) Nothing said on the other end.

I added that I am really full of useless ideas. To that she agreed, although probably if only partially, in gest, and added that in the rural areas not only food shelves, if there are any, but hospitals would be overtaxed and/or closed.

Possibly this conversation and its negative tone had gone on long enough. As per the fact that both our cell phones were on low juice. Sending us a message? The phone on her end just would not shut off, and the telltale although accidental beep beep was very slow in coming.

But it’s time to go for broke. And connecting things we once would not.

We’re just ending waste, fraud and abuse? That’s probably what the likes of Hitler and Stalin said, at least at the very starts of their reigns, and marching toward total tyranny — the time at which they and theirs became the masters of meth, too, forget more mere magic mushrooms, but men gone mad with power. That historical tidbit as well as their lying speaks to their character, so do you trust them with your life, not just your food? And people of anti-intellect who don’t know any descriptive word other than “amazing?”

Again, we need less Donald Trump huffing lines and more Don Henley writing lyrics, (sorry Mojo Nixon and his joking call for the demise of Don, if not Donald.)

— So here is your immediate “to do” list, or even call it a survival plan. And look at the number of times I use the word “even.” That should be a clue.

Stockpile food, that you get via SNAP and other sources. If you plan ahead — which is now — and buy in bulk, and maybe team together with your friends and family and even neighbors, you can often get “dollars off” discounts. Gang up and get the ten for $10 special, then split it up and share the wealth. Many canned goods can in actuality be used months past their listed expiration date. That will also allow you to stave off using a lot of those, and make fuller use of perishable goods in the very short term, using them to full advantage. Even many prime, and cheap, staples like potatoes and carrots can be bought in canned form.

Make use of produce giveaways, and use them first to incorporate into the above strategy.

See your local (and regional too and maybe you can do both with following residency requirements) food shelf(s) early and often. Be wary that they sometimes offer “extras” if you keep your eyes and ears open.

Get creative with your cooking and try out things like new recipes before the D-day hits. Especially with spicing up your dishes (oregano and “Italian” seasoning taste much the same.) A key take for your recipe list: Try thawing out from the freezer some of that pork loin you now will need even more, cutting it into slices with a thick knife and putting the rest back into the freezer, then sauteing it with veggies such as carrots, onions (there are various forms) and bell peppers (green are the cheapest) and even stuff like green beans (the fresh and even frozen kind come in big bags and are hard to use up, before they get moldy.) But even then you might consider cutting off the edges. Cauliflower and broccoli will work too.

And now we will get to that behemoth that is Medicaid. There may soon be coming down the pike a $35 co-pay for virtually every doc visit. So if you have been waiting to see that specialist, or schedule a visit to your primary to check out care on that “long term” list, get it slated now before the requirement hits. You might be able to use a grandfather clause, so if you have been meaning to get onboard, get on it. Especially if you live in a rural area, where facilities are at risk of closing, arrange transportation now to get into the city. Don’t be a Fool For The City.

Work requirements will be coming too, so especially if you are between ages 50 and 64 and will again have to slave away, exercise and get fit. (Your health insurance plan may even have a gym membership provision, so even if you have to throw in a few bucks, it might be worth it in the long haul.) Make a plan, that’s important, then start the next day. And eat healthier, too. Via the above. —

What says wedded bliss more than floating a barely-above-water, low-rider boat through a whole series of narrow canals in a city that’s almost underwater, with the occasional fake body supposed to be the groom seen floating in what’s supposed to be an Amazon box/coffin.

Good choice, Mr. Bezos. Even though a billionaire many times over, do we want you catering the party for the nuptials of all Jeff’s rich and famous … When is the last time you cooked your own five-star meal.

Or maybe you are the man. You could have become mega-rich because you REALLY know how to throw a party, and then maybe expect something thrown back to you. It has been said that in Venice, a $50 million wedding like his might not get you as much as you might think — especially, it’s been said, if you feel a need to float your-actual-alcohol-bar boat. (Maybe it’s only in Wisconsin that NA is more costly than the real stuff.) Hollywood elite were in attendance, and how far did that actual bar tab run??

— There was beer, but this was not your typical Wisconsin wedding. Rather, it raised the bar in Boston, being celebrated this time for the older folk in a lavish older four-story home, with the younger ones gathering about a month prior.

It was also a Jewish wedding, and a number of decked out catering workers walked around a series of rooms that formed most of a circle hand-serving kosher cuisine and drinks. The table too was lavish, jumbo shrimp with garnish, flavored beef with real horseradish, loaded spring rolls that were so mostly with multiple veggies. Marinades were on salmon and also other meats where you’d more typically see it.

The toasts were quaintly brief, but the conversations scintillating. And with one family Jewish and the other Puerto Rican, it was easy — in most cases, but not all — to see who is with who, aside from quips while talking.

In my Wisconsin wedding into a largely Boston family, there was a near brouhaha needed to get beer on the menu, A second state set of nuptials was in really cool beer warehouse, actually a very big banquet room galvanized in stainless steel, with a stage on one end and — yes — a large barrail on the other.

An old dance venue run by distant family members has new limited hours, only to weekends, beer aside, as Schult Hall could maybe still use upgraded flooring, but is also likely to use all the fish in the nearby Wisconsin River in its fries, of all kinds. And with a pitcher of beer for $7? We’re there. At The Barn.

You never know, you might see Livvy Dunne there. Or someone dressing like her. The latest blend of the trend is less racy and more frilly, with the ends of the shorts flaring and fraying out slightly.     

That newer sensation, a Pittsburg Pirate pitcher, is I’m sorry still in need of a save to be as on fire as his flame, another similarly timed sensation, that being Livvy Dunne. The thrower is still No. 2 on your scorecard fantasy rankings behind, maybe, Livvy. —

Tom Brady came, and everyone wants to know if his date was younger and more beautiful than the now Mrs. Bezos, and to be sure and not a troll, she and the Brady ex, for example, are very lovely. The older guys seemed to do quite well, know you.

The Kardashians were also in attendance, in bulk but they were striking too, and you have to be careful to not-out-beautiful the bride. And Oprah, wouldn’t she be the liberal one to come out against so wealthy an extravaganza?

“Want good will? Start by giving to Goodwill. (I’ll continue soon with a series on who, from rockers to retailers, give the most.)”

Bezos made his money, maybe as a visionary, on Amazon, so if you could not attend, you had a higher profile party out in Rio, if you could find one, or had to run in a charity 5K, and had to send your $5K purchased-beyond-Macy’s-prices wedding gift over that Amazon service, they could cut you a discount.      

The protesters were out in force, which makes me say I have no problem with them living in the lap of luxury per se, (see below), and a food cart worker, not eating caviar themselves, said it was more the protesters causing turbulence. Guess they wanted to find a cost-a-dollar-dog — so collar them — less than the cheap ones at a ballgame, not the Johnsonville brat, or the first-class-cost lobster on a plane over to Venice. 

Press were pissed that not being able to travel totally first class, they were thus not invited to the party, so they put in their shifts as Hollywood reporters, working hard I’m sure, but having access to at least some of the massive buffets, (sirloin over porterhouse unless having massive expense accounts, and even then there is that inconvenient animal rights thing.) Then they might as well have joined the picket lines and taken selfies for their reporting on the privileged.

That body double that floats past them was likely a prop from the latest Brad Pitt-type murder mystery, pulled from his ransacked house? Sorry about that one. Better to be the house that Bezos built?

The paparazzi, too, couldn’t get past the paltry portions, and I was reminded of a sign on a downtown Hudson business that spelled out “no paparazzi allowed.” They could have just said, “no picture taking if there is no shoes or shirt.” If in need, they could always buy one via one of the (even online if needed) stores of the new-called Merchant Of Venice. But some hailed the newfound tourism as helping the local economy and those who work in it. Hope they get some cool leftovers.

But if there ever was time for a prenup it is now. After getting through the wedding weekend and the hangover Monday, there might be second-day thought.

If maybe not by Mrs. Bezos, rather the new Mrs. Belichick, though this (must be noted) younger woman is the COO, (read coo?), of his football based production company, so she’s earning it. On the sidelines of, say, the NFL Draft at Lambeau Field, get a brat, she could maybe break up the band. I still wonder if that ever happened with the John Lennon lookalike I saw walking up the sidewalk of not Abbey Road, but Vine Street, then a second time, with a Yoko Ono lookalike on his arm!  

Beyond Hudson, in Minneapolis then Boston, everyone wanted to look like Livvy. Dunne, that is, is the deal. In the former airport all the women were sporting short outfits in the form of skirts, while on the East Coast, what was worn were shorts without the flared edges, but just as skimpy. At a seaside diner, a mom had on much more conservative leggings than her late teens daughter across the table for four.

Just prior to the official start of summer, back in Hudson along Walnut Street, someone was baring it with a brown-dress-like-thing that had carefully selected slashes of skin shown, and oh that sash … Also on her was a perfectly rounded Kardashian-style booty. And shown across the way was a neon green outfit that wasn’t the baby blue of my polo shirt, or the mauve sleeves and orchid seen at home on TV and worn by Matt Dillon on Gunsmoke. There was some reptilian thing also mixed in there and referenced and called the Mauve Frog. Maybe an alt band.

One such fan was walking down Second Street, with what I thought were horns befitting a witch, but when I got closer I saw there was only one prong, and one small flap. And I had been planning on complimenting her on her “devil horns.” She would have probably thought me creepy … and so 80s.

I have a niece who likes such alt/party music, poor child, and she is standing up for a wedding this weekend and is forced to wear peach, which she says is not her color. She is having her own special day next summer, and for that she gets to choose.

What color is best on me, for a tux. Just the most basic black? Only use the catch-phrase “dark.” My mom was wondering what day of the year might shine the brightest on/for all of us. Just say “one of the 365.” You’re safe except if Leap Year crops up. I don’t recall how that came up in the conversation …

But there have been weddings abounding, some with lots of bridesmaids — and requiring an expansive width of the church for their total girth — some with few. If one lady has too much breadth, she might get kicked up to the choir loft. I will not make the obvious joke.

But for me, and now you, musically, we will test heavy metal knowledge, so use your best aim against your alt enemy, and beyond basic Bond movie scores. As for groomsmen, across several weddings, you may be in line as No. 6. Or you may be No. 3. But who is No. 2? Not myself. “I am not a prisoner. I am a free man.” Albeit with a ball and chain on leg. If No. 1.

Some of us were going through old family wedding photos, across several families, and threw some odd/even. Who is that oddfellow, standing way in back? “I swear, I do not know the man.” He is No. 6. Not again … He is a cousin, of my cousin, and his cousin’s cousin. Ahh, this revealed, now I feel complete.

OK, at a late fall wedding I actually attended, where the rain started coming down right around the time everyone was exiting church — and again I will not make the obvious Guns N Roses cryptic joke — I got to check out fashion again. My fave were two adorable, in a good way, little girls in totally matching outfits of colors and patterns, with the same hair and twists on top, although each were given a slightly different spin, just for variety sake.

Someone had on big checks on a big suit, with smaller checks on the inside shirt, fitted to a T. Two people with gray shirts had on a purple tie and green tie, at bookends, and then they swapped chairs. One woman sported black socks that looked just like the shorter ones of an exotically darker skinned woman, a great compare and contrast. A stunner wore an Amish-style hat with a buckle, and bright red nails with translucent-beyond skin edges. Even better was a fair-haired woman with edges on her eyeliner to give it a lightning-like shape, resembling that worn by a friend who works at Green Mill in Hudson and has had the look on and off for two years now, but higher raised eyebrows on both ends, a newer Paris Hilton not Milton version.

Across various weddings, not to upstage the brides, have been clunky (behind) or strappy (in front) shoes, sometimes with elements of each, and again, alternating cut slashes of two or three such strips across the front and/or side of a dress.

Twin jokes of the day follow.

Just got off the phone with my mom — and maybe my twin — and she asked me, after I stumbled around by saying I had just used a dining (or living room?) chair to create a brand spankin’ new pantry shelf, when does my rental company do my (semi)-annual apartment inspection?

Aaaaargh!

Please mom, anything but that …

I’ll even take the wheel under, or over, as it is, my do-it-right-always (I’m teasing twice) twin bro!

So I had to call mom again when, just 30 minutes and a few ticks untidelly later, there was a note in my door that the next day They Would Be Coming For Me …

So The Deed was done. All was reviewed including that dreaded closet. And the after-assessment was: “We as per our maker and by thus hereby decree, after firm and fastidious final and flawless analysis, and the full impending authority of He who reigns harsh over all means of commoners, and bylaw 40 of the subordinate ordinance six, and subchapter two, and all dotted tees and crossed eyes, that the hearby-under-examination-and-thus-entertained premises and where-to-with and what-not and forth-with is immediately deemed …

Generally untidy.”

What? After all that buildup and jargon? I coulda told you that! That’s the best you can do! No whipping of my soles and ankles?? How dare ye? Thanks mom.

Unquote.

Now part two of the joke follows, with my tail between my legs and underneath and undercage my under-seige (bleeped).

Did you hear that The Donald, done in kind and forthwith, has dared to utter the F word on camera? And doubling-down, made reference a few days later (now) to using “a certain word.”

How to respond, as a concerned constituent.

I will utilize my God Given and Inalienable As Liberty right as a citizen with full free speech still possessed, to counter this abridgment to us all by also saying …

Fuck.

Simple and done.

Gee that felt good. Did it for you, too, Donald? Let’s try it again, as a mantra.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Festively featured five-word fiasco as my mini-manifesto, Happy Fourth of July in this land of liberty. I may not be able to say that come next year. Did somebody bleep me or slay me with all three dashes or lashes this year?

Haha. Rebel With Blather, PBR Red and White and Blue Joe.

So to start, beginning a scenario where there were missiles flying this way and that, and calls for the opportunity for a ceasefire were very many even as a direct result, why did the United States call this Operation Midnight Hammer? Is that not telegraphing to our foes our plans to send missiles at a given time? Two Minutes to Midnight? Better get out your shield, or anti-missile devices.

I do get the argument that by not bringing Congress into the strike decision, we do not tip our hat that we are planning it. So yes, here follows another political story, since as Bruce Springsteen said, when the times require it, he (and I) will write such stuff.  

— If blowing up things politically is not your thing, this and every Thursday evening (almost always that day of the week) in the summer has concerts at the band shell in Lakefront Park. Right now, in an occasional Tuesday added showing, a blast of what sounds like a woodwind from two blocks away is beckoning people carrying lawn chairs as they start to gather to see the Shoreview Northern Lights Variety Band. In two more days, Thursday, at 7 p.m. you can get spacy with the Galactic Cowboy (Electronic) Orchestra. These two acts are a prelude to the park’s hostings of the Minnesota Orchestra and Hudson Booster Days. —

What now potentially rears its head, is how we assess the no-troops-deployed ramifications of a hit, as far as bringing legislators into the decision. Bunker-busting bombs and concrete obliteration are one thing, BYOB, but potential human casualties are another, (although interestingly, there is no mention by the U.S. of Iranian casualties.) Concrete Blond but the busters were said by an analyst to only go a maximum of 20 meters deep into the much bigger bunkers, needing to reach far deeper before you get to any actual bomb material. What number of soldiers involved brings this to creation of a tipping point. And where?

But many say the threat is not gone, although Iran may have an out to return to “peace and harmony.” VP JD Vance disagreed with Trump and said that, essentially, two of the things Iran needs for re-establishing a nuclear program — if it had moved enriched uranium from the missile base before the strike, and if Iran still has centrifuge capability — may still be in place. That is because he said, the strike only may have been a partial success, for the moment.

It seems that nobody cares, except families in Iran and also elsewhere, much about the status of prison people in a second strike, or the shock wave effect of the initial hit on civilians.

So it came from us, so-called The Great and in the form of some of our allies The Smaller Satan, to invoke Revelations in a joking way, as apparently The Beast lives.

An attack was done earlier, and called a “calibrated” one back in 2020, was not sustained, possibly due to hitting a Ukrainian airliner? It did leave hundreds of U.S. soldiers with traumatic brain injuries. When it comes to past presidents in this century doing such an attack without congressional approval, there was early talk about those cases not having armed troops being deployed, and that this could be a barometer for getting such an OK.

Flip-flopping on regime change also can be justified, I think, as a case might be made for gauging the success of a strike before calling for such a leadership removal.

Shown in the Qatar sky in video shot from the ground, were many dancing, not streaking, dots as missiles, or Batman-like circular sky spotlights. Some of this video appears to have been accidentally mixed over the top of scenes of a more narrowed down streetscape.

It looks like old UFO footage, and I will not raise any kind of conspiracy theory here, from prior years.

While the U.S. and Qatar both say that there was no damage from missiles, it appeared that some of those dots reached the ground and landed.

The Qatar missile situation, at the biggest U.S. military base in the Middle East, was viewed as having the effect of declaring war, by Iran.

Shortly after, an already scheduled meeting of Trump’s defense team was moved to the situation room, from the Oval office.

You can bet included was the secretary of defense, who in the past has been called under fire for alleged drinking on the job, and also that he scheduled his attendance at decision-making meetings around happy hour! Ha ha. And no insider-trading wager of victory bets while at the bar. 

Of course, it has been said that the first casualty of war is the truth, and that fact heightens with the immediacy of our various forms of messaging, from both government and foreign actors and even news outlets, that include social media concerns.

So don’t believe Trump’s claims of complete obliteration of Iran’s nuclear program just like that, and for that matter Iran’s declaration of having actually hit in its strikes in Qatar.

This scenario is like a sports fan getting his butt off the couch and taking his game to the court, and it also becomes a game of cat and mouse and especially in Iran’s case, trying to officially save face on the diplomatic international scene. But this tit for tat is Trump at his best, despite early calls for impeachment from Democrats.

But there remains the threat of foreign actors to close the strait of Hormuz, through which 20 percent of the world’s oil flows and thus travels to customers. Sticking through it is a “killer” peninsula, which brings in the impact of, and from the United Arab Emirates. And who is Oman? And do they have an army?

On early Monday afternoon, Kuwait closed its military base there, as fear of a broader response by Iran grew, even if it is only a matter of political theater it feels it needs to do.

So everything circles back. What goes around, comes around. Remember all the hype spewed by Trump about high deficits and grocery prices, and too many warlike doings and needing a world-peacemaker the like, going back a year or two. Sound familiar? Too familiar.

So despite the expected rise in Trump’s approval ratings, I have a secret for you: Donald Trump is actually Joe Biden! The version Trump himself concocted. Who is that masked man? Take it off so we can see who you really are.

It’s said that a crew of military aircraft, maybe including crewed Air Force One, recently and finally stopped circling about, like mammoth vultures since Saturday … prior to possible deployment to the Middle East.

Crude. With the sparse attendance at Trump’s military parade and birthday celebration and honorary Armed Forces anniversary day, they had been looking for just-where-the-place-even-was where they should fly over/land/linger. They couldn’t quite see or find the tiny gathering a people, despite their bright red ties, even with their billion-dollar eye-spy contraptions.

OK, of course that is a joke. But Trump’s bombastic birthday bombed. Although the streets were not empty, they were not lined with flag-waving faithful either. To find those kind of throngs, you’d have to go to L.A., where despite a watch-where-and-when-you-go and/or don’t-go-there-at-all curfew zone (more on “going” below) of a few hundred blocks and more that, very predictably included Chinatown, people were out en masse to protest during another No King’s Day. (Donald and his handlers could criticize me for the lack of timeliness of this analysis/report/Jimmy Kimmel copy, but they are just too flat out dumb.)

— This is National Pollinator Week and it gets more than a day since, I suspect, I am a Bee and the Black-Eyed Peas are some of those plants being stung with pollination. Thus drop the eye or i, as in William, in the band.

Sunday afternoon is a benefit for Cory Nelson, owner of Guv’s Place in North Hudson, held at the Emporium in the town of Hudson, and also sponsored by Jonesy’s Local Charitable fund, known for such activities. It will help him pay his medical costs due to a multiple crisis situation. I have never seen eye to eye with Cory, (known for his robust girth), but I still wish him well. But with that fact considered, it is ironic that I found out about the benefit by seeing the flyer through the window, on the floor of a local barber business. Bad luck seems to follow here. Another former bar and grill he co-owned with his brothers burned to the ground a few years ago and has never reopened. Relatedly, one of the longtime owners of the Urban Olive and Vine restaurant in downtown Hudson, Carol Trainor, (known for her funky colored hair), underwent a medical crisis and her husband picked up the pace of the shop, but she died a few months later, despite an outpouring of help from community business owners through things like benefits and other direct assistance.

I’ve been kicking this around … Overtime? … The U.S. soccer team did a (ten pound?) turkey and laid an egg by losing to … Turkey of all the (relatively) smallish countries. What if, in a reversal of who is the underdog, it is a puck drop vs. Russia?? In another sport with goalies where (traditionally) there have been only a goal or two recorded. So this could be Beatleworthy, Back In The USSR, and is that where Wild hockey’s Kirill and other non-American standouts currently are? —

Rather, much of the press next-day lingered on the flashy floral leg-covering garb and pink spiked shoes worn by the First Supermodel In Chief, Melania, looking like a bad, too bright bunny of Easter style, and did all but one of the main outlets covering the presidential picnic miss the fact that Donald’s tie was very crooked? One can imagine them in front of the first presidential mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all, with Melania fussing over the tie almost slung over his shoulder, but he had to rush out anyway to greet the legions of followers, who weren’t there, but in his quite decidedly delusional imagination. Melania’s outfit, however, didn’t not leave much to the imagination.

Rock music was featured and we wonder how Metallica featured the fact that their Enter Sandman song was used in an attempt to wake up some of the official types, one shown on camera yawning. The song was played to a much more raucous crowd of 1.6 million in Moscow in 1991 when the Russian curtain fell. That is in this very unscientific assumption is to be about 2,000 percent more attending than Donald’s 250th birthday party of the Armed Forces. Even they hardly cared, their fantastic centuries of service aside.

The parade was largely funded by corporate sponsorships that showcased products helpful to the cause. Escaping much of the attention was the mud rudder called Max Thud of a Spud Pud Dud by Three Men in a Tub Inc.

An image was shot of a soldier showing a young child how to operate what looked like a Star Wars type spaceship, as if such badly-scaled models, Melania alike, could actually fly. Call in to service the much jumbled Jedi magic of Luke Skywalker and duct-tape grit of Hans Solo (Chewy is now in a zoo via ICE) as well as the musical score of Lee Greenwood. Melania, for her part, doesn’t seem to want to be part of this despite fashion, famously fantastic fiasco, finally someone with a good head on her shoulders, but that comes with being married to the Leader of the Restrained World. Bomb the very burkas off of Islam women, but leave the First Lady alone, and the assorted one hump or two camels and even koala bears with Austrlalians evacuating, pleads the International Humane Society.

But Donald, although now basically 80 years old, still gets around — as do his missiles. They as we speak stand ready to join a six-letter “I” country and cluster bomb one of those four-letter “I” countries — and I get them mixed up like probably Ronald Reagan — out there in the other end of the world that we don’t care about except to blow up. Reagan was shown in a photo with Trump recently, with a few feet of much wasted space between them, as they stood badly composed way over on each side. He also was the subject of a patriotic trivia question at Buffalo Wild Wings along with four other possible answers and came in with a patron response total of 0.0 percent. This contest came with a (final) countdown to the music questions, like we needed that, as I’ve always relished more the syrupy sarcastic supplemental suggestions given after the answers. Seems a better use of those ten seconds and could be a segue to that old Phil Collins theme music much criticizing The First Alzheimer’s Patient.

Israel is firing the first salvos and the U.S. may join after Donald counts on his fingers for 10 more days and its chieftain Ben-Ja-Min Net-In-Yahoo said he might go after Iran ruler I-A-Told-Ya Bomb-Many, (the second one). Meanwhile Iraq is wondering who to blast, the Saudis are busy running their international golf tournament and Yemen and Qatar are feeling left out.

An inter-country freeway running between most of them, and having the convenience store with the trademark of United Arab Gas Rates saw its stocks split twice (not in the U.S., mind you) as people fleeing one country for another scarf down with their scarfs down on slurpees and fuel, and the big domino effect has meant that U.S.-led stock markets are sustainably up significantly for the first time since 1999.

Of course the main and ongoing evacuations are by Big Jet Airplanes. The U.S. is getting everybody out of everywhere and the big jet the Saudis purchased for Trump may finally have a purpose. It is said to, just like BWW, have a green toiletside lighted signal in its presidential bathroom, about a foot below the toilet paper dispenser, to drop The Big One.

Dragging my way, on the latest No Kings day, down to the streetfront along Main directly across the parking lot from the Republican local offices, I saw the tried and true flag-wavers, this time red not blue, and actually engaged in a meeting of minds with a couple of them, spending in all almost an hour just hanging out in this unusual place for me. But it was a bit spacey like being surrounded by aliens, not the illegal kind, but those from beyond the stratosphere.

However, they weren’t nearly as right-wing, out-there as I thought I would get from those waving the Old Glory. Reasonable Republicans? Space Cowboys? These talks were much more balanced, and this was an opinion they all reinforced about their mates. With flags that were only at rarely chosen times tinted just confrontational gray-blue. Two archvillians, of sorts, were the guy going out into nearly the middle of a busy street during a break in the traffic and waving The Stripes, and someone else dressed up in full Indian garb (I will use their term) and having a bronze eagle atop his flagpole. (Maybe Donald could buy him a gold one.) People quickly approached me, and might as well be carrying scripts, hoping to galvanize my leftist grit with right-wing remedies.

There was a boom box pumping of all things, YMCA by the Village People, and it soon segued into more country-style tunes, and people did dance a sort of jig for just a moment. There quickly was a tune with more twang, and I tried to listen to the upshot, but all I could hear was a reference to a character with a rifle robbing a liquor store. There later was a little rock, too, both southern and lighter mainstream.

I soon found myself offered a chair and sharing a can of peanuts and raisins with the woman on my left. Fingerfull after fingerfull. She didn’t seem hugely radical and said hers was one of many subgroups that went by a name that was partially Patriots. Their group does not believe, they said, in violent takeovers or largely defunding the poor. Then she offered me more nuts, the good ones.

But what about people possibly losing some of their SNAP benefits? She didn’t seem too perplexed, but added that she and her family — like me — waste very little food and that she does lots of veggie canning, showing me a couple of photos of her basement shelves. Does she give any of it to charity? No, but she does offer it to most of her relatives and even some low-income people, albeit only those she knows well. I told her that made her part of the solution. That comment did seem to perplex her. She didn’t consider herself a hero. But maybe just protecting your own.

Then we moved on to abortion. She shared with me her position, and it is so predictable I don’t have to state it. I countered with, concerning Thou Shalt Not Kill, what about when the life of the mother is in danger, or even if there is rape or incest. Makes little difference, she said. Or seemed to say. Lockstep, save babies, save babies. I countered again by repeating something from a friend of mine, a female who served on a school board and also ran for legislative office, and said she would never abort a baby, but that she does not feel it’s her place to tell someone else what to do with her body. I added my position that such an issue, however thorny, cannot be legislated, and all we can do is leave abortion legal and hope — and pray — that people make wise choices. And if you are going to be sexually active and consider abortion, get tested regularly and catch it as early as possible.

The response, at length, was that she stared straight ahead or looked upward, and said nothing. I upped the ante with a couple of statements that begged a reply but got none. Just pass the peanuts, maybe. Just now, don’t take too many.

We did agree that concerning the debate on choices in pregnancies, especially those that are medically problematic, who should die, the baby or the mother, we should let the reaper take whichever category ends up sparing the greatest number of lives, and that would mean saving the baby. Still, I will criticize those who are blindly pro life, and would say that because of situations like this and certain facets of euthanasia, they can actually be selectively pro death.

Then I stood up and wrapped around to walk back. Another man gently stopped me. Our discussion was a little more wide ranging and he was even more centrist.

Noteworthy in particular were his comments on censorship, which he said he opposes in all forms, even though Trump is in favor of squelching so many voices. Rather, he blames the left for censoring, with his focus on their focus on banning particular words. He chose two in particular as examples, and they are interesting choices: Nazi and pentagram. (Even “nigger” is embraced for use by some in the black community, a term for themselves, but only when spoken by Blacks.)

The man, wearing a black hat, said he recognizes, although stops short of saying defends, the right of a man to wear a dress. Even though he does not “support” it.

And, he adds, there is a need to keep a support network for those of lesser means. He does want to maintain social security, for all, but did not answer questions about whether the extra needed funding should come from placing more taxes on the ultra-rich, or whether the burden be placed on some other source. Even though seeming quite intelligent, he was unaware that some, or many, billionaires pay little or no taxes, after deductions are considered. He feels they already pay their fair share.

I also talked to people on the other end of the political spectrum, those who marched on down to Lakefront Park, and they said what I also had observed blocks to the south with other ilk — while many were driving past and honking with thumbs up, comparatively few gave the picketers the finger. Meanwhile, some Trump supporters avoided the noisy street scene and played a game of cards in an apartment building lobby.

Does this all mean we are coming together, all of us, in a conversation?

The mountain of a Jewish man who fronts the metal band Disturbed thinks so, and check out the clip online where he stops mid-concert to softly and sweetly, but sometimes with power in his voice, to give a four-minute speech to a scared singalong little girl — mostly by the fireworks — with her family in the front row, about how we all, right and left, can come together whatever our varied backgrounds and be loved. And how he is proud that their concerts have become a family affair, as an example to us all, in an often ugly world. Remarkably eloquent and touching.

Matching up with your Mazda or Maserati, or mere Matchbox, in Massachusetts. (But unlike Joe Walsh, you won’t get to drive anyway near 185. Eagles fly? Or even 55, like Sammy Hagar.) 

Is it easier to drive in Massachusetts or the homeland of hamas … If in either Boston or Gaza, whether it be homes beautiful or bombed out, there is plenty of time to gaze or gape, out the window, then gasp, while stuck in traffic waiting for the gas station, for a turn.

In this area where the US was born, and Revere rode, you now have roundabouts and go for a couple or three blocks and make a turn, go for another few and make a turn, go for another few … all the way it seems through fricken Massachusetts! It might be for better planning to blow up the whole place and start from scratch. I told a friend that this could be described as a war zone, but that friend said that could drop too much of a bomb, and I don’t mean to minimize the plight of Palestinians. Don’t put a missile in my missle.

— It’s not too late to get a Father’s Day gift, since you egged him on not with expensive-these days omelettes as part of the promise for brunch, but to go to No King’s protests, then a band as that’s more celebrational, so he’s sleeping in and then hitting the couch On His Day not a throne.

Maybe beg off and go again by treating him to see the Beatles-type music at Rubber Soul next Saturday evening, with lots of meat in the offing too at Big Guys BBQ Roadhouse. Then there’s that you know, Toro flyer that I think is a full four pages, although don’t ask him to mow the lawn until tomorrow, and other tool-type things that have manly names like DynaGlo and Megamaster, and could be seen stacked to fill all the front space outside Home Depot.

That made be think back to when in spring I bought a small table fan, (is that the right term?), as the old one had finally gotten to the point where it only ran half the time going on 40-60 and not predictably, and summer was on the horizon. Couldn’t find another one with a handle, but I did get for just under $15 a gizmo that had like 15 different wind strength settings and three modes for energy conservation, (OK I made that up; it had three speed settings but still ran strong), but featured a very plain Jane name, when I thought such an item should be called something like a Maxblow-TornoHurric-6000! My friend laughed with the roar of a tsunami. —

In an area known for snow not hurricanes, a recent trip to Boston revealed very little sign of a plat book, in its past. Rather when they had the Boston tea party, I think they had imbibed in more than the green, black or gray. Like when going over a big river crossing, I believe some of them stopped at a bridge joint, beneath such an olde tavern sign, and tipped a couple, rode another few blocks without turn to the next appointed and marked bridge joint and tipped a few more, then went further, and eventually realized that oh gee, we forgot to make that logically arranged set of street maps for those who follow behind us! While we are still sober. Wait, that ship sailed about a mile back.

But of course, those were the horse and buggy days, and if the horse knew which way to go it wasn’t straight. Just needed to leave the width of a horse’s butt. Or if traveling by mule or donkey, the breadth of its ass … Like the mule that has a bale of hay — or a convenience store — on either side (while tied?), in a field, and can’t decide, so died, because it couldn’t choose which to take and choose and eat. Made us hungry.

So gotta follow that with a tale of more trash. If you take it to the end, the depths of a dumpster.

When crossing that bridge, we according to our google, had arrived at our destination, a seaside diner for dinner, but it was ten feet past by the time we took notice. After fully another ten feet, and yes another ten feet or maybe two, there was — a right turn. And then after another ten feet or maybe two, another rise turn and we missed that one too. I then made a bold prediction that was also a bad joke. I said hell, go another such step and you’ll likely get to park next to the dumpster. We traveled such a distance and I spied just to the right — a dumpster! And there were not one but two spaces available. So I turned out to be just as much a psychic as the one that predicted there would be a straight shot that goes for not ten miles but 20 or maybe even 30, if we trek as far as New York. Then the traffic battle starts anew.

On this journey, we saw homes with both brick and board, still looking all colonial — can I say that so close to The Fourth? — but so pristine it was offensive. The burg of the average bloke still would go for not a billion, but maybe more than a million. This will put in context the fact that Barack Obama’s former home has an asking price of $39 million. That makes him a mere mortal.

And my mom said to my niece, looking to relocate, that so many homes in the Boston area feature obviously dug out basements, so old (vintage?) they’re now back to that state.

Just don’t say bombed out.

This may be a case of he said versus he said, countered with what a third said, maybe about both, politically speaking. Trash talking … But not Bird vs. Magic. Maul and ball like Lakers with Lorry. But rather, irrelevantly irreverent while wacky remarks as a press conference meets slapstick of sorts with flinging of muddy, bloodied names across prime air space and conference tables long as runways by three or more warring factions, winner take a Mexican standoff. Nobody wins … Wisk away the waif.

— So did Musk call Trump a melonhead. Or the other way around. The marriage of Edonald, as I have called the two-headed monster, is over. Lines were drawn and crossed, and we’ll have to see about redrawn. Meanwhile are rockets now glaring red, since contracts for X and its ilk are being X’ed out — does this mean the ships that just left the stratosphere will like tariffed-warships and immigranted-buses have to turn around and come back? Talk about a re-entry.

And some of that money to be lost by Musk could have ended up in the hands of the Dems he formerly fought, as he now has jumped ship and said he might back their candidacies with funding like he did for Trump, before the feud with Trump over more money, that in the Big Beautiful Bill that Musk now says is overspending, and hey, depending on which side of the aisle you sit, they’ve typically painted that as a Dem thing, and now Musk and his billions sound like he’s taking on a Democratic stance. Got all that?

If you’re someone sitting in the pews, of your modest home, not the White House, all this may come down to whether you dislike either Trump or Musk or both. There are three different possibilities, and maybe it’s not all or nothing.

But for this minute in the ever shifting sands of current Washington time, it remains he said, she said, at a level never seen in politics, will mean no longer stay the course for the sayers. —

So, this tale is about Trump about Putin about Mr. Z, as I will call him, and God forbid and I bless him, as a Dr. Zhivago? Back and forth, like pols. And not a power trio. Or are they?? (And forget Zepp and Purple and Priest, this is a new unholy trinity, wholly taken, as only one of these men is devout, much less a church-goer, and unless speaking up we also end up tagging along behind, though singing hymns of praise, if we follow their agenda(s). Wish becomes want becomes need, another paradoxical triad, if you are the right pardonable person. And spouse makes three involved.

So to dig into the dirt: Putin calls Trump a cretin, much so like a week or so back, after Trump was miffed after Putin’s big missile strike, taking away all the flack from the Big, Beautiful Budget Bill, many pounds of it setting behind the table, not read on into the day. Mr Z chimed in, like an off-chorus guitar, but saying accurately I must say, that Putin was a moron after often understating how much more territory was actually made into mulch. Trump, as he often does, fired back for whatever reason, that the duo each were off by a diminutive dose of decimeters, as he would bloody well share a quite-good-pint-over-coffee-conversation with Putin. Mr. Z shot in return that both were dunces.

Trump reciprocated by slapping more tariffs on both of them. Putin said, in turn, that maybe Canada could step in, again, and save the energy grid of the whole world, his country included, by shipping in some power as it has or had done for the US, as in electricity. Trump charged asleep at the wheel, while singing along to the radio, and pundits punditted if he was talking about auto tariffs.

Mr Z said they were all as nuts as China, then retracted that by using an electronic device he bought from China, saying they were as dumb as a fox, then thought about Fox News and again rethought his thought.

Elon Musk, before said to depart but who really knows, made the news (a last time?) by saying that the Big Bad Much Bantied About Beautiful Budget Bill was bunk. And where is Biden? Now bantying in?

The pennies or maybe dimes, not dollars involved, in low-value minutia tariffs that will still effect many millions, were thus harmonized by Trump, (and by some all of it is linked to aiding the opening of a synthetic opioid chain?), de minimis, and that’s only China, which they debunked in a statement, as bald-faced blah, blah, blah becomes more blah, blah, blah …

Who woulda thunk it?