This Land: Wisconsin

They say Wisconsin is the Badger State, a moniker that conjures images of furry, fearless creatures defying the elements. And defy them it does. Winter here is a hulking, frost-bearded behemoth, a glacial titan that would make a Siberian husky quiver. We’re holed up in Fond du Lac, a quaint burg nestled on the shores of Lake Winnebago, a body of water so vast it seems to stretch to the horizon and beyond. In summer, it’s a playground of sailboats and sunbathers. But let the mercury plummet, and it transforms into a frozen expanse, a colossal ice rink begging for the tread of snowmobiles. Now that’s cold.

Ronnie, a man of sunnier climes, got a crash course in Wisconsin’s winter wonderland courtesy of a former flame, an art consultant with roots in this icy realm. She’d fled the frigid embrace of her homeland for the sun-drenched allure of Denver, trading snowdrifts for mountain peaks. A siren song of warmer weather, you see.

Wisconsin, they say, is a place of heartland charm and natural splendor. A tapestry woven with emerald forests, sapphire lakes, and the earthy scent of pine. But let’s be honest, there are no hot springs to soothe weary bones. For much of the year, it’s a land of frozen lakes and snow-covered barns, not bubbling cauldrons of relaxation.

Educationally speaking, the state offers a smorgasbord of learning institutions, from cozy liberal arts colleges to sprawling public universities. But don’t expect to stumble upon a literary Mecca. While the state has birthed a few notable wordsmiths, including the Cthulhu-conjuring August Derleth, it’s more of a land of hearty appetites and even heartier folks.

Wisconsinites are a breed apart. They’re like sturdy oaks, rooted deep in the soil, weathered by relentless storms. Their handshake is firm, their smile genuine, and their tolerance for freezing temperatures is nothing short of superhuman. Witness the spectacle of children frolicking in a water park on a day when even the hardiest soul would be sporting their autumn fleece. It’s a testament to their icy resilience.

Life moves at a gentler pace here. A place where neighbors wave and conversations linger. It’s a land of porch swings and pie-baking contests. And while the political climate might be as frigid as a January morning, the folks themselves are more likely to offer a warm cup of cocoa than a cold shoulder.

Door County, a slender peninsula that juts into Lake Michigan, is the state’s crown jewel. A summer paradise of cherry orchards, quaint lighthouses, and rocky shores. But when winter descends, it transforms into a serene, snow-kissed wonderland.

So, if you crave endless winters, a slower pace of life, and the opportunity to master the art of ice fishing, Wisconsin might be your Shangri-La. Just remember to pack your thermal undies.

As i was walking…
In autumn fleece, plain…
I saw the kids…
Play in the rain…
They didn’t seem to…
Feel the chill…
Badger kids are tough…
As polished steel.

Onward through the fog… R.H.

This Land: Minnesota

ED NOTE (oh boy... egg on our face):

You see, R.H. has always gotten Iowa and Ohio mixed up, so when we actually rolled into Ohio and learned it was the REAL "Buckeye" state, Ronnie felt some nostalgic pains for the days when publishers could afford to employ fact-checkers AND copy editors.

Anyway, the egregious error has been corrected, and apologies all around to the Cardinal AND the Buckeye states. We'll try to do better going forward, but will probably continue to do our best proofreading after hitting "publish".... Oy vey.


ONE MORE THING:
We think it's important to note, among the hubbub over AI wrecking creative and journalistic landscapes, the abovementioned error (confusing Ohio's with Iowa's state icons) was an all-too-human error.

Yes... we leverage AI tools to generate loopcircus content, but we aren't in it for monetary gain, and we don't ask Siri's drunk sister to invent stories out of whole silicon/digital cloth.

We do this because R.H. says he HAS to. Call it a pursuit of self discovery, call it vanity posting, call it what you will. R.H. calls soul-work, and the speed in which these little soul-work nuggets are produced is greatly increased using available AI tools.

Furthermore, we don't take a position on the relative goodness or badness of the introduction of these tools, but with that said, we recognize the direction of the wind, and if you can't catch it (the wind), you might as well hoist and trim the sails.

Onward through the fog...
loopcircus

Duluth, Minnesota. A granite jaw jutting into the maw of Lake Superior. They say it’s a stone’s throw from Dylan’s stomping grounds. We’re in no rush. Time is a river here, meandering leisurely through a landscape of pine and granite. The locals, bless their frostbitten hearts, seem to operate on a different clock altogether, a sundial perhaps, or maybe an ancient Norse timepiece that only reads ‘winter’ and ‘summer’.

Our encounter across this land of sky and water began with the stories from Ronnie’s first college mentor. A woman of the theater. She’d painted the Twin Cities as a glittering metropolis of culture, a place where the soul could stretch its legs and breathe. The Guthrie, she’d called it, a temple to the spoken word. A siren song, it was, luring us to the heart of Minnesota. But the fates, or perhaps our wounded mount, Rocinante, had other plans. So, we veer west, towards the iron-rich womb of the state, Hibbing. A pilgrimage, you see, to the birthplace of a bard.

Minnesota, a land of paradox. Its people, a curious blend of Nordic stoicism and Midwestern warmth. They speak of a quality called “Minnesota Nice,” a veneer of sugarcoating that hides a core of sturdy, salt-of-the-earth practicality. It’s a concept as elusive as the Northern Lights, shimmering on the horizon but always just out of reach.

The state itself is a canvas painted with extremes. Winters, a brutal siege of ice and snow, when the land lies dormant beneath a thick, white blanket. Summers, a riot of green, when the air is thick with the sweet scent of pine and the relentless hum of mosquitoes. These are the beasts that rule the North, tiny tyrants demanding tribute in blood. It’s a wonder anyone stays. Perhaps it’s the lure of the lakes, those crystalline jewels scattered across the landscape like a giant’s spilled treasure. Or maybe it’s the promise of a quiet life, far from the maddening crowds.

Yet, amidst the frozen tundra and the mosquito-infested marsh land, a surprising bloom of culture thrives. Colleges dot the land, nurturing young minds in the heart of the country. And from this unlikely soil, literary giants have risen. Sinclair Lewis, a bitter pill of Midwestern realism. Garrison Keillor, a gentle humorist who found poetry in the mundane. And then there’s the music of Prince and the troubadour, Dylan, a cosmic wanderer who carried a piece of Minnesota with him to the farthest reaches of the world.

So, we press on, into the heart of the land, armed with bug spray and a healthy dose of curiosity. Hibbing awaits, a chapter yet to be written in the Hot Springs or Busk adventure.

Way up north…
You’ll find the great lakes…
If you’re not careful…
You’ll make a big mistake…
So don’t you hurry…
Don’t give to worry…
Minnesota neighbors feel your pain.

Onward through the fog… R.H.

Song for Bobby Z

I’m hittin’ the road in my Wayfarer Van…
Buskin’ the fields for all of my fans…
Looking for poets, hot springs, and ghosts…
Of writers and dreamers from coast to coast.

Yo, Bobby Z, i refried this song…
Rollin’ through your hometown, i didn’t stay long…
The Iron Range Country folks, give ’em a hand…
For raisin’ the bard we call Dylan.

Yo, Bobby Z, i want you to see…
The good things your life’s work has done for me…
I’m playin’ the chords, but i can’t do enough…
Your trickster enigma, nobody can touch.

Here’s to Robbie and Bruce and Steve and Ricky Lee…
All the 6-sting troubadours that followed your lead…
The songwriter’s era might be at an end…
But Simon Says can never be my friend.

This song is ending so i just wanna say…
You moved to electric back in the day…
And look at me now… i’m closing that loop…
From hard rock, to the hard luck roots.

Below the Earth – Above the Sun: Crossroads

I have to get something off my chest before moving on with Phase II of the Hot Springs or Busk tour. It veers into politics, and though i know it’s more polite to avoid politics and religion in casual conversation, both are on the ballot in the upcoming election. Though i don’t expect to persuade anyone away from their way of thinking, i feel it necessary to call attention to a few areas of personal concern, vis our future as citizens of the UNITED States of America.

First, i can appreciate the IT-system metaphor advanced by MAGA’s current brain trust (Peter Thiel, Steve Bannon, Curtis Yarvin, etc.) for modern governance. Specifically, that we need to shut the current system down and bring it back up. I mean, this (adaptive change) should be the goal of all democratic referenda, right? Strangely, there are powerful voices behind the new-right providing wind beneath MAGA’s wings. They assert (d)emocractic processes aren’t sweeping enough. (or, democracy is incompatible with “freedom”?) They say there’s an entrenched nefarious “deep state” at the root of all U.S. disfunction and the only way to fix it is to burn it all the way down. My problem with their proposed solution is that they would merely replace the existing “administrative state” with their own version. You know, “meet the new boss, same as the old boss”. I’m not persuaded that this will be an improvement for every day working people. Maybe for the billionaire or millionaire class, but not for the folks i know and love. They (new right) don’t want to merely reform the system, they want to scrap democracy (Lincoln’s version) and replace it with a techno-monarchy featuring all-powerful CEOs (like modern corporate governance). No, really. And ya… i’m not persuaded. They say we need to get over our “dictator-phobia”. WTF? We already litigated the divine right of kings, and we’ve also litigated authoritarian fascism. 

Not only no, but HELL to the NO…! 
We aren’t going there, ever again… hello! 

That said, as a former IT professional, i understand the corrosive effects entropy can have on complex adaptive systems such as hardware/software synergies and electoral politics. And so, i’m open to ideas. But, rather than throw the founders’ baby out with the bathwater of institutional corruption (dark money, lobbyist/congress revolving door, etc.), let’s take a look at how our leaders are chosen. Let’s scrap the zero-sum “winner take all” method of the current electoral system and replace it with ranked choice contests, enforcing radical transparency in the funding of campaign messaging. This would force all campaigns to appeal to voters outside of narrow ideological lanes. If nothing else, taking down the temperature of divisive campaign vitriol.

I realize i’m veering off my lane as i’m not a political scientist, but i had to throw a couple pennies in there as the ideas these guys are throwing around, whether simply trolling for reactions, or worse, if they’re serious, have me more than a little concerned. Seriously… melt the underclasses down into bio-fuel? Jack them into “Matrix-like” virtual-world simulations, red pills, blue pills? Is this supposed to be funny? Sorry, i’m not on board. Enjoyed the movie, immensely, not amused by Mr. Yarvin’s analogy. In fact, he’s got it all quite backwards. He calls the administrative state and a collection of elite opinion makers a “cathedral”, but, as a fellow IT maven, he should remember the software development structures described in the early days of the Internet by Eric S. Raymond as the Cathedral and the Bazaar. With mission-aligned engineers developing commercial software being the Cathedral, and the loose confederation of developers contributing to open-source projects being the Bazaar. As i see it, the current loose configuration of influences making up MAGA’s nemesis, the “deep state” operate like Raymond’s description of the Bazaar, and the ideologically-aligned power structure Project 2025 aims to install “on day one” would be closer to Raymond’s description of the Cathedral. Yes… ass backwards. But enough of that digression.

You think i’m joking? Look it up… Curtis Yarvin is admired by Peter Thiel, Steve Bannon, and VP Candidate JD Vance. Project 2025 is the Heritage Foundation’s sanitized version of the brave new world order these radical libertarians have in mind, and they know libertarianism can never take power without totalitarian monarchical rule so, rather than face reality and modify their expectations, they propose we simply scrap democracy and install CEO Tzars…? Seriously… shouldn’t this simply be the end of discussion?

Well it’s not, and the way i see it, we stand at a very important crossroad in our nation’s history. Sure, the current system has major flaws, and corruption seems to have become the norm rather than the exception. So, we should consider seemingly wacky reform ideas and let the best rise to the top for implementation. After all, we still have the Electoral College. A reasonable compromise in the horse and buggy days. And it did serve a noble purpose at one time. Do we really need it now? This should be up for vigorous debate. And the lobbyist/congress-critter revolving door in D.C…? is this the best way to bring citizens in so they can have their say in the way the rest of us are governed? Some might say, “hell no”, but the critters in the revolving door will fight to keep that gravy train a’rollin’.

Thing is… we are still the gold standard City on the Hill. Surely everyone can identify areas of the founders’ brilliant framework that remain relevant, and fill the gaps of, how would Peter Thiel put it, outdated policy “software” in order to go forward in a manner that benefits all citizens, not just the millionaire/billionaire class.

Anyway… we report, you decide, and that’s all i wanna say about that.

Back to the search for the fibrillating heart of our divided nation, the 2024-25 Hot Springs or Busk tour.

Onward through the fog… Rohlfie

Daddy’s Home

I can do the laundry… i can do the cooking… feed the dog… keep the band in bookings.

Surely you can see… i got it down.

I can bundle up… and brave the cold… walk for miles for your arms to hold.

Surely you can see… i got it down.

But here i am… home tonight… here i go… it’ll be alright.

Daddy’s Home
Daddy’s Home
Daddy’s Home

I can fight the traffic… i can pay the bills… wash the car and the windowsills.

Surely you can see… i got it down.

I can make a pledge and take a vow… see it through to the end somehow.

Surely you can see… i got it down.

But here i am… home tonight… here i go… it’ll be alright.

Daddy’s Home
Daddy’s Home
Daddy’s Home

For a dime… i’d face the cuttin’ table… naked and cold… and give it all up… everything i’m able.

Lemmie GO!
Lemmie GO!
Lemmie GO!

I can miss you madly… call or write… or dress up nice and go out tonight.

Surely you can see… i got it down.

I can hang with angels… and fly balloons… and conquer the EDGE and the SUMMIT too!

Surely you can see… i got it down.

But here i am… home tonight… here i go… it’ll be alright.

Daddy’s Home
Daddy’s Home
Daddy’s Home

Tonight

Spotify link… HERE

Myopedamania

 

Well… there’s a feelin’ Grandpa says he gets before a cloudburst hits the farm. And after forty years of drought, he says the big one’s comin’ on. And wise ones say the best of times need a storm to wash away… the filth of the entropy gone before… bring it on is what I say… and let it rain!

Don’t you know the springtime flowers always need the April showers? Don’t you know the springtime flowers always need the April showers?

Could it be there’s a basic need for some measure of control… and when that need goes unfulfilled we fall to actions bold… and use whatever power at hand bending others to our will… and if that don’t work we just take ’em out… in a storm… the blood runs cold?

LET IT RAIN!

RAIN
RAIN
RAIN

When children led by authority… whether real or just perceived… abandon compassion and empathy… you set the stage for evil deeds. And empires through the sands of time… use violence to pave their way… then the violence turns in on themselves till the empires washed away.

SO LET IT RAIN!!

Don’t you know the springtime flowers always need the April showers? Don’t you know the springtime flowers always need the April showers? Don’t you know the springtime flowers always need the April showers? Don’t you know the springtime flowers always need the April showers?

April showers…
Bring me flowers…
………………………April showers.

Spotify link… HERE

MOAB

I’ve had this feeling since i don’t know when
pushin’ out my game from a 12 gauge pen…
I’m restless… don’t know why.

It’s hard to anchor to a holograph
hard to carry toonage in a holey sack…
I’m racked yea

Ready to ride

But ridin’s kinda pointless when there’s nowhere to go…
An endless field of strangers from above and below…

Weightless

And prayin’s not an option when you can’t find a soul…
When the naked truth exposed reveals a gaping hole…
I’m paid out…

Ready to ride

Got a black bomb and it’s tickin’ away…
Gonna take it out on the blue highway.

Gonna make a change… gonna start today…
Gonna tie the branches up and throw them away…
I know…

Overdue

Try… try… try again but just can’t see…
Someone pulled the rug out from under me
I swear…

Don’t know who

I had myself convinced it was the real deal…
And how can one resist such a strong appeal…

GUILTY

But somewhere deep inside I know I’ll find some truth…
And hold it high so everyone can see it too…
The pearl… from the shoe…

Got a black bomb and it’s tickin’ away…
Gonna take it out on the blue highway

Blue highway…
Ready to ride.

Bottom Feeder

I don’t understand how a Hummer so grand answers really simple questions of life. LOOK! Mommy’s on the cellphone… paintin’ her face to the rhythm of the traffic lights. In the manicured parkways of suburban anytown… Hummer’s tires’ll never touch the dirt. Never a tow… never a scratch… for speedbumps always alert. Hummer insures Mommy’s life… but she’ll need post-accident trauma relief…

Chipped her nail…
Spilled her mocha…
All mangled up in grief.

Don’t cry for me… the dregs of your social tree… i’ll be alright… and sleep with the stars tonight.

It seems to be… many shopping sprees seem ridiculous even to me. You’ve been there before… the rich or the poor… blind irrationality. It’s a culture where success worships the bling that you’ve got in the bank. From the day that we’re born… we’re taught to conform. The poison Kool-Aid we’ve all had a drank. What you do… is who you are… doc… lawyer… cop… teacher of kids… the tender of a bar.  But the bling is where it’s at and the toys that you buy show the world… all to see.

You’re a success…
No need to confess…
It’s all in your confident beam… but I said…

Don’t cry for me… the dregs of your social tree… i’ll be alright… and sleep with the stars tonight.

I’m lucky to live in the USA… a wonderful land of plenty. It allows me to reach the higher levels of need… Doctor Phil… I DON’T NEED ANY!  When I’m on my feet… in the middle of the day… watchin’ Hummers speedin’ by… i quietly wonder if Brittany and Brad see the strength they’ve got inside. Now the salesmen have their eyes on us… do you know what they’ve found? That perception… is reality… and they’re playin’ us all for clowns. Buy this toothpaste… drink this beer…

It defines who you are…
Just GIVE US ALL YOUR MONEY…
And we’ll make you a silicone star… but I said…

Don’t cry for me… the dregs of your social tree… i’ll be alright… and sleep with the stars tonight.

Another Winner

Jim bolts… Jenny cries. She don’t know but he’s cryin’ too. Sometimes love just works like that. Two together… fall apart… neither one knows where to find the will to start all over again… but…

Another winner… steps up to the gold and smiles. She’s so excited… and humbled in the heat of the light. But when it’s over… she’s back to the every day… and finds that losing is in pursuit the rest of her life.

Some kids got all the luck… never have to wonder whether they are loved… it covers them every day. Not so for everyone. Some kids feel like they need the gat… to blow their troubles away… but…

Another winner… steps up to the gold and smiles… she’s so excited… humbled in the heat of the light. But when it’s over… she’s back to the every day… and finds that losing is in pursuit the rest of her life.

Every dog has his day. But every day has its night. And just like the blushing aspen leaves… we all concede the fight!

<==>

Suzy found… close to death… broken back in a traffic wreck… her answers to the questions of life. All of us… everyone… below the earth… above the sun… all of us only one… but…

Another winner… steps up to the gold and smiles… she’s so excited… humbled in the heat of the light. But when it’s over… she’s back to the every day… and finds that losing is in pursuit the rest of her life. Another winner… is showered with praise and fame… and for a moment she’s basking in the light of the stage…

But just as quickly….
The fantasy fades away…
And all that’s left is…

HOW SHE PLAYED THE EVERY DAY

Spotify link… HERE

New Direction

The opening cut of this EP was written way back in 1978. Rohlfie was in his 1st pair of adult shoes, playing bass in a couple garage bands… one heavy metal… and one classic rock (AOR format). Basically, stuff you’d hear on urban FM radio stations. However, being part of a “fleshy juke-box” was never in Rohlfie’s master plan, even though he knew it was important to get familiar with the techniques and “literature” of work beloved by the listeners he wished to reach someday.

He grinned and sang “the hits” with requisite abandon.

Anyhoo… while playing in the classic-rock fleshy juke-box… a little outfit called “Sweet Freedom”… lol … he penned this guttural primal scream and persuaded the band to add it to the setlist.

Teen angst… gotta love it…
Enjoy the sweet freedom… :-p

I used to dwell on all the complications…
But now they just don’t stop me any more.

Waistin’ my time… with a noodle for a spine…
And i just couldn’t take it anymore.

So i went to think about a new direction…
And in the course of my searchin’ i did find…
That the writing on the wall was a mess of a scrawl…
And i just couldn’t stand it any more.

Lord it’s true i’ll have to claw my way out!

Well… i made it… i found my new direction…
Feelin’ better… much better every day.
Not afraid to take a stand…
I ain’t worried about no plans…
Cos the end’s gonna reconcile itself…

Oh YEA YEA YEA…

When i close my eyes i see a better world…
And it don’t seem so far to reach…. no no no no…
From the bottom of the pit it’s a long way to climb…
And the key to the top is in my hands… in my hands…

In MY OWN bloody hands!

Spotify link… HERE