Contact us
Back to All Posts

Tip-top radio talker Tom is back after a short break, new and even more uncensored, which is (or isn’t) unusual these days. —– Takes me back to when he interviewed for several minutes my model friend Bree, of bikini fame on many local lakes, but still perfecting a land of ice and snow with her auger. But not all were enthralled, as there might be young needers-of-a-more-(or-less)-perfect role model at the trade show.

Like many, although more intelligently than most, Tom Barnard has never been one to be too filtered when forging forward into info. And he wanted something more into creativity (yes I know that’s an overused word even at ten letters).
So after decades with KQRS Radio as the mainstay of their top-ranked national morning show, Tommy B stepped down a few months ago, but now has revived his act with things like a podcast, flailing at family, and billing himself as (even more?) uncensored. (And what about Bob S?) What little I know of this new effort, begun in spring, was on a bathroom wall at Agave Kitchen on their rotating ad sign. But for a few weeks it has circled forward no more next to that sink, so I don’t know if his amped-up new offering caught fire.

 

— In this day, how can we honor our veterans; I was struck by the horror and subsequent baggage inflicted, when hearing the story of a local veteran, with as is unfortunately often the case multiple traumas, but not from him, as to not complain, but also by listening to songs with war as the theme. Both forms of info end up being told in brief, which is a shame. (A post on that soon, and its not all what you think). To wit: That vet I know was slated to pay off the rest of a loan, $70 as the last installment, but now has lost his apartment and may be essentially homeless. Like so many. And when you are missing most of a leg …

I had planned to do something for him right away next month, set him up with some groceries, for the second time. Food for thought, tit for tat, as it might put him in a better frame of mind to repay me sooner rather than later. That is extremely selfish to have as even a partial motive. I found there was a hitch in these plans, and naturally I took a deep breath and chin-drop for a moment.

But there can still be part of that niche, with my plan. After all, we’re only talking seven times 10 dollars. Put your money where your mouth is Joe, and follow through with the meals donation and maybe get him some comfort food too. And he deserves dessert. Cook some of it up for him in advance, if its one of those days where the remainder of that leg is very sore. Add a care package for later?

A small way to help, those who have given so much more, if only one person and one time. But enough tiny things eventually become much bigger things. Light one candle.

My advice. And plea. Keep your eyes open and recognize ways to help in a creative manner, when they present themselves. Turns out my money is short for me right now, so a whole hog donation would be difficult. But get a balloon payment on The First, so maybe I can do more, even if later? When given time, most things just work out.

But one thing we all can do right now, to support a related cause. Offer to build a new VFW facility and they will come, especially on Monday afternoon. Take in the Sailor Jerri, and yes she’s a veteran, family-friendly concert in Lakefront Park in Hudson on Memorial Day. All aft, and showcasing many music styles but not much in the form of alt, and pushing onward until 7 p.m. This concert rings of all-star status, as she’s joined by a couple of longtime luminaries of the local and regional music scene, Tim Sigler and Josh Lassi, and also Jake Nelson. Sometimes the vocals rule.

(For more on the concert, when previewed at length, check out the coverage I gave on my website last year at about this time). —
The first time I knew someone Barnard interviewed, the subject matter was much colder. He had to ask, at length with his questions, the captain of the tourism-and-winter-recreation-fueled, promotional Bikini Ice Fishing Team why she thought there should be a reconsideration of them be frozen out of a scheduled major trade show appearance. The allegation was made that such attire, in a gratuitous sense, was not good role model material for young girls. So would my deep-dark-haired and darkly complected French model friend Bree get blasted, as its unofficial spokesperson? (It could be asked why you are wearing something so skimpy to go ice fishing in the Minnesota version of the frozen tundra, when parking)? So snap just a few quick photos, then hit the warming house? There’s got to be one in the Land of 10,000 Lakes. I still have an old photo, showing Bree working an ice auger in said bikini while the ice around her was anything but melting. A counterpoint is a snapshot of all the teammates, together, in a big sweaty spa.
(Another, but then-blonde-tinged, model friend by the same name was photographed in a runway shoot, right here in downtown Hudson at the old Dibbo’s club and raised-up all the way down the dance floor, by none other than myself. But the local newspaper editor who was supposed to give me a full-page photo spread, dweedled it down to just three small photos and a copy block, so the second Ms. B lost out on her attempt at pix for her portfolio, something she teased me about. Especially as she was walking away from an open mic jam at that, again, old Twisted Grille with its proprietor, the late Jeff Johnson, turning her head back as we viewed the head-turner crossing the main street. Sorry about the lapse on my part and the fact you had to point it out before I realized, as this backup-blues-tinged event by an up-and-comer was one of the biggest extravaganzas to ever hit Hudson. If only my editor had a clue about entertainment reporting — although he usually just gave me free reign to just go for it. But this time he actually made the comparison of some of the very-amateur local ladies doing their best to preen at a fundraiser for the local hospital, although granted it’s a mega-hospital.)
Anyway, the replacement for Barnard was not a member of The Replacements, rather Dave Gorman, former drummer for The Black Crowes. I regaled a New Richmond nightclub owner with such stories the other day, and he said that for a brief while a full 30 years ago his bar cranked the Barnard-based KQ rather than the jukebox. This was good while it lasted, but then the copyright police also made their presence felt.
As we talked, one of the old Black Crowes tunes came on over the PA, its Angel song. Gorman was at his best, with his classic rock fills between vocal lines.

Share the Post:

Related Posts

  • I’ll be brief and punchy with this headline notation, as we transition to giving you more and sometimes shorter choices. And you may notice some of that as you beckon forward. It’s circular. Like a flush. Be careful what you mix, heads vs. text, drinks vs. food, and all kinds of potions — that may go bump in the night. —– Punchy, potentially, but I digress or progress with a new patriotic addition.
My mom has told me not to be a potty mouth when I write, as she certainly would not appreciate hardly any of the standup humor on say, Comedy Central Radio. SNL maybe. But after 11:30 p.m. … But there comes a time where a man must make a stand. And for this jokester, it was now when he had to choose whether to pass on the opportunity that would otherwise bite him in the butt, for in front of and behind him is the Mother Lode. Or should I say load. Or “Mothers” of Invention. Heh heh, heh heh, Butthead, look...
Read More
  • This coulda been Vanna White’s next Big gig In The Sky, if the scaffolding was not so high. So this is how the project went, by the letters and numbers, of get Trump’s name erased from the Kennedy Center. The $250 bill might be tougher. Sad but true. So, What are there more of going on right now, wars or Trump pet construction projects?
So the wall is down. Of letters, that is. Not down by Mexico. Cemented into the concrete. Of the Kennedy Center. Where music has sat. (Near where a now defunct wrestling arena rusts in peace. Or a bloodied White House lawn. With leftover paper cups and plates, more likely bowls and small utensils, anyone?) Or more ornate than inside? A tarp the size of Pennsylvania, the predominant battle state, covers workers as they chip. So geez, how big are the letters? Four times 50 living workers high? But now none remain, or so we are told by flunkies. Or is...
Read More
  • Stressed out as a caregiver? She’s back at yah. This is a rare case of a husband and wife being joint caregivers — for each other — aided and abbetted by the fact that they have a lot of the same disabling conditions. So she shovels snow using a walker/scooter, while he cooks gingerly using a microwave and offers her a plate when she sits down, in an easy chair, in a reversal and new take on traditional roles. Whatever it takes. Necessity is the mother of invention. —– In a new add, Towns and the champion Knicks got kicked around but still got their kicks in the long run … As do Norwegian dancers.
A few years back, I wrote an article about Hudson Deacon Tom Kroll and how he did so many extra dutiful tasks, his living out the Gospels tirelessly, when his wife was ill, in addition to his regular job. I was inspired at the time to pen this, about my own lovely, disabled wife — we were separated briefly but now back together with our 40th anniversary this month, as wholehearted caregiving has many strains — and how an atypical view of standard roles, out of necessity, made things work, as far as our approach to work and home that’s...
Read More
  • He says, and goes fishing with the boys. She says, then goes to the middle of Texas, inviting her mates to a ranch/villa built for the ages. The bachelor and bachelorette parties were on the same night, but though very different, they had some things in common … like the snakes, at least three kinds, to avoid. (None with exotic dancer.) But while away, they did not avoid each other, completely. He made a phone call. —– Just added, last call included a Carolina cowpoke.
What do fishing, maybe in the dark, thus a Texas ranch, snakes of various types and do they come or stay out after dusk, eating either and only fine food or snacks, and a game of cards — likely just one each — have in common. And no strippers or Chippendales. And an only half or quarter, not full Monty. (Who is Monty anyway?) Or cowboy or cowgirl hats. Although there was some dress-up. More Barbie than boots on, I think. It’s an easy answer, connected and conflicting, but not in all or dirty ways, bachelor and bachelorette parties. One of each...
Read More
  • Full metal jacket? Hey, I wasn’t exactly to the point of going Rob Halford. But tastes aside, there must be some reason why after 26 years I was shunned, like going Bob Daisley by Ozzy at his reunion? OK, I know, my style may not have fit with the packed crowd. And the last couple of times for this, I tried to do too much with ad-libbing. So yeah, I get that this time around, I was the somewhat unusual choice to be the one left off the set list, with singers clamoring to get up there. But seriously, just being analytical of strengths and weaknesses as a singer here, no hard feelings. I’m not Dio. (Or Traveling Wilburys, a when jumping inside, inside joke.)
It was clear to me at the most recent Jeff Loven music show in Hudson, for Memorial Day weekend, that there has been a changing of the guard. The sword has been passed. New blood, like Yungblud, has been brought in. And, I must say, loyalty — amongst the devotees who travel frequently and all across the two-state area to virtually all of Jeff’s shows — has been rewarded. They are the royalty, in what just makes good business sense that I can appreciate. In a significant but not unprecedented altering of course, I was not one of those asked...
Read More
  • Songs by Napalm Death? A fire swept down my very street today, where the babies were burned. (But alas, a new A/C unit is on its way up the freeway.) The Stones did not leave these themes unturned, either, or should I say unrolled. Oh wait, this all was my cooker of an apartment, and we are not talking the kitchen. But all these matters will become more pressing, a pressure point, as the new normal especially in southern climes is temp well into the triple digits. It is these people, the third world, and their heat stroke not mine, that most concern me. (Another example of hellfire temps just added. Sin after Sin.)
Trial by fire. My broiling heart in my efficiency flat still beats a bit, in concern over those boiling over in worse apartments in a Chicago tenancy, or on an ocean island instantly-burn-your-feet beach or dessert, or forced to endure ice baths just to keep cool — or simply be offered no way to maintain an ice-dripping body other than also read a non-cookbook at the library, or select not a big steak you can’t afford but a 73/27 burger from a freezer and slap it on your forehead. Just not too hard. All these things are ones where you especially today either burn or...
Read More
Scroll to Top