11-March-2006

Rascal's, Winona, Minnesota

Deep in the heart of mud duck territory in another Mississippi river town. Those mud ducks can sense outsiders, and they looked at us with grave speculation and confusion, or maybe that was because I had cheese stains all over my shirt from eating the most disgusting gas station sandwich of my life.

Dubbed “The Wild Turkey” sub, I figured I had to partake in this culinary disaster because it shared the same name of a certain liquor that has found its way inside my swollen, Taco Bell Grilled Stuft Burrito-filled gullet on many a cold, wintry night here in Wisconsin. Needless to say, “The Wild Turkey” sub, which after being goaded on by a preteen sporting a Slipknot hooded sweaty and three thousand piercings to “throw it in the microwave for a couple minutes” that resulted in melting the plastic wrapping and turning the cheese into some kind of diabolical petroleum distillate—“The Wild Turkey” sub was a mistake, but playing Clovis Mann rock wasn’t, and I don’t think any duck in Rascal’s or within the Winona County Line would tell you anything different.

Now, I'll admit, I can be pretty anti-mud duck at times. Hell, I was raised that way, growing up in the woods up north, mud ducks would always come into town sporting the nicest snomobiles and ATVs, and they'd pillage our nature and drive insanely, but let me just say this: Yes, we can't agree on sports teams (remember that Antonio Freeman catch on monday night awhile ago? Oh yeah, and how many Lombardi trophies do they have?), they might not drive very good, and they think Cheeseheads are morons, but Minnesotans know a good thing when they see it. I mean, this is the state of Ole Anderson, Vern Gagne, Ravishing Rick Rude, Curt Henning, Prince, Paul Bunyan, Rocky and Bulwinkle (Whatsamatter U is in Frost Bite Falls, MN), FUCKIN’ MCGYVER (Richard Dean Anderson), Tom Arnold, Bob Dylan, John Freakin’ Madden (no shit), Kevin McHale, Grain Belt Beer, Paul Molitor, Vince Vaughn, Jesse Ventura, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and last but certainly not least…Hercules himself, KEVIN SORBO! They know their shit. I mean, with a roster like that, it just goes without saying that they’d love Clovis Mann...and, lo and behold, they did. So mudducks can't be all that bad...except, you have to admit it's pretty weak tit their bar time is one in the morning.