Abandoned Bar - Griffy's Tavern, Genola, MN

You have to do something significant for milestones. This is the 300th post in Four Baggers history. It comes just after the 8th anniversary of this blog going up. In that time, my self-indulgent rambling has been viewed nearly 400,000 times. Which isn’t any sort of earth shattering number, but I’m proud of it.

Many of the stories I’ve written are aimed at a specific audience. Be it people in Colorado, people in Minnesota, or baseball card collectors in anywhere. Every once in a while, I have to put up a story for an audience of less than five. Maybe an audience of one? Either way, this one is for me. Because this is a story that I want to see in this format, after only ever seeing it in book form. So it’s going to be a bit longer, any maybe stranger than my typical stories, because it’s more personal.

This is an exhaustive, line-by-line, rewrite of my favorite issue of Wasted Quarter.

The subject of which being Griffy’s Bar in Genola, MN. 

Griffy’s operated in Genola, MN, for an unknown amount of years. I can only speak of a period of time in 2004 and 2005, when and where most of this takes place.

So sit back and indulge me.

I’ll even buy you a beer!

In 2004, longtime friend and former roommate, “Crazy” Carl, invested in a bar & grill, and would take over day to day management. It meant relocating to the the tiny town of Genola, MN. With a population of 75. Give or take…

My parents dropped by Griffy’s in October 2004, and snapped this photo of Carl, posing at the front door.

Carl and I go way back, all the way to the 99 Spillihp days. I rented a bedroom from him, at the Double-Wide Cardboard Palace (formally known as Ninja School) in 1996. After I moved to Colorado, later in the 1990’s, he’d made the trek out to visit several times. Whenever I came back to Minnesota on vacations, a lot of time would be spent hanging out at Carl’s house. Watching Weird Al videos on the Jumbotron, holding karaoke raves, scratching in welder helmet, or eating Zebra Pizza while recording Wasted Audio. Stories of legend... 

And now Carl’s running a bar!

When Carl first told me the bar was named Grifty’s, my first thoughts were of this guy. Who spells it differently. And that has always thrown me when I write the name. Griffy’s the bar played a few brief significant moments, during a seven month period of my life. Ken Griffey Jr. is still my all time favorite baseball player (not named Jeff Innis). 

Junior wins the significance derby.

Not to say Griffy’s the bar didn’t put up a fight. Soon as I visited, I knew it would become a story.

I didn’t know at first that Griffy’s would become a full issue of Wasted Quarter…

Wasted Quarter #58 "Crime Drama!"

This issue was printed in March, 2006. It covered the period of June 2004 to March 2005. Telling the story of visiting Carl at Griffy’s in Genola, to escape under-employment frustration. Which kept getting worse until I left Minnesota again, not long after Carl stopped running the bar. Which gave the story a logical conclusion, so I had the subject for a stand alone issue. Each time I came up, I wrote out notes of what we did, what I saw, and who I interacted with. Later, I contacted Carl and gave him a big list of Griffy’s/Genola questions to help me write the story. 

Among his many contributions to the issue, Carl donated Griffy’s old Liquor License!

Days after WQ58 was printed, I was at a bar (Broadways) with some friends, in Englewood, Colorado. We were playing pool and talking to a couple of young women. My friend was talking me up and mentioned that I just wrote a book about a bar. She wanted to see it, so I grabbed a copy from my car. She opens it up and looks at the first page for about 20 seconds… "Whats all this about population and land and shit? You said this was about a bar!"

I explain to her that I have to set the stage. Very few people reading this are going to know Genola, MN. So before I can talk about a bar in that small town, deep in rural Minnesota, I have to describe the demographics. You need to understand the perspective when I talk about the bar. She was not impressed, because it wasn’t as bar-centric as she’d wanted, and stopped reading. I took it back when she went to the ladies room. Doubt she cared.

I've said for many years this is my favorite issue of Wasted Quarter. I love the story it told, and the way it was told. That was the story of what was going on, as it was going on. This is looking back at that time and place, 20 years later. Re-reading the issue I wrote in early 2006 only reinforced my high opinion of it. Cutting it down to what you see here was painful. 

Unfortunately, all printed copies of Wasted Quarter 58 are long gone. So you'll never get to read the thousands of words worth of stories that were cut for this piece. There are some really amusing stories that I simply couldn't include for many reasons.

Camper Van Beethoven will be providing musical narration.

Play each video as you read, to enhance your Genola experience!

******

Thursday, September 27, 2012

I had gone with my dad to his appointment at the St. Cloud VA Hospital, this afternoon. After finishing up there, he asked if there was anything I wanted to do before going back home. Instantly it popped into my head: “It’s a bit of a drive from here, but I’d really like to see Genola, since we’re fairly close.” He had no problem with that idea. I suggested the even longer route, so I could get some Highway 10 pictures through Royalton (needed at least one photo of Treasure City very much) and up to Little Falls. Again, he was cool with all that.

Too bad that I missed those windshield bug splatters while I was lining up my highly desired photo of the old Soo Line railroad bridge, crossing Highway 10, just south of Little Falls. I knew the tracks had been decommissioned many years ago now. But since I’d learned of their Genola connection, I needed a picture.

MN State Highway 27 was what I considered to be the main Little Falls exit off Highway 10. Dating back to the family drives from Minneapolis to Fargo, when I was a little kid, I was always intrigued by “Pierz”. However, it would be 2004 before I’d ever visit Pierz. Because my family never had a reason to take MN State Highway  27 east.

However, had we ever done this, 12 miles east of Little Falls, is Genola, Minnesota. (Population 75, according to the sign in 2012.) Rich Prairie Livestock Exchange sits at the city limits. Unless you have livestock to exchange, you may as well keep driving east on Highway 27, until you hit Highway 25.

There, you have a choice to make. Turn left and go north into Pierz… Or turn right and drive south into downtown Genola. I guess you could also continue driving straight. Which will put you in the parking lot of B.P. Speedway, if it’s after 2015. But for the sake of the story, we’re going south a few blocks to MeadowLark Road.

Old building at the end of MeadowLark Road, where it meets Highway 25. I don’t know the age/significance/purpose of it, but it looks old. Couldn’t make out what the letters by the roof say. Some are missing. Googles searches show it has seen a decent renovation over the last decade, and doesn’t look like this anymore. So I felt the need to include it.

Further down the block is a set of three older buildings. Left to right: the MeadowLark Combo (that doesn’t look like it’s open anymore), Griffy's (clearly closed and the building for sale), and the Corner Cafe. They still look like they’re open. Just maybe not today…

Closer look at the Corner Cafe, on the corner of MeadowLark and Stumpf Road. I like their sign, but I’d curious as to what the original doors and windows looked like when this building was new. I didn’t take a picture of it, but the west facing exterior wall has “Genola” in metal letters bolted to the brick. 

I wish I would have taken a picture of it…

But the reason I’m here is the center building, previously the home of Griffy's Old Town Bar & Grill.

Have to include the professionally made “closed” sign in the window.

Even though my reflection and the field north of Griffy’s are more prominent. 

Looking into the window, and down Griffy's bar, into the cooler at the far end. The window is back is uncovered, so you can get an idea of the interior layout. Immediately to the right of that window would have been Griffy’s back office. The stairs to the basement would be in front of that. Space opens up to the right of this picture, with expected bar related stuff going on there.

Also in the window is a sun faded flyer for Griffy's Fixture Auction. Taking place on Saturday, October 9, 2009. So I missed it by almost 3 years. Without knowing for sure, I’m assuming Griffy’s closed earlier in 2009. Text on the flyer reads:

“Built in 1933 (which is a typo, the date by the roof says 1923) and known as the Kelzenberg building, this small town bar and grill offers big business opportunity with 4323 sq ft. Large dance floor, seating for over 150, 60 bar stools, 7 buddy bar setups and 3 serving stations. The buyer will get the real estate, business, and fixtures. Sale includes 3 televisions (including the Jumbotron?!?), complete kitchen setup for short order food, grill, deep fryer, oven, all dishes, stainless steel exhaust system, kettles, pots, pans, roaster, serving stations, stainless steel tables, toaster, cups, glasses, tables, chairs, bar stools, 2 walk-in coolers, freezer, beer coolers, tap beer station, ice machine, Samsung cash register, wash stations, and much much more. Full basement used for archery, FA gas furnace, air conditioning, new roof in 2009. City water and sewer.”

Driving up here and finding Griffy’s closed wasn’t a surprise. Carl had told me several years earlier, that it had closed. Seeing the auction announcement for the bar and everything in it kind of bummed me out.

Guess those bar stools didn’t sell in the auction…

Sure are dusty…

Since I’m here, I see something else that needs a picture or two, around back of the MeadowLark Combo…

The remains of the long gone Mobil gas station are still standing! 

And the pumps parallel to 25, are looking about as intact as they did in 2004.

Turning back around for my last two pictures before moving on…

Grifffy's back entrance. 

Back of the MeadowLark Combo is on the right. 

Now overgrown Grifffy's horseshoe zone. In front of that was an unpaved space that I liked to park the Blueberry Honksicle on. Usually next to Carl’s van, combined with the billboards facing 25, provided great coverage for car breaks.

Carl said he once sponsored a women’s horseshoe team, and he would never, ever, ever do it again. He didn’t expand on that, but I wish he would have. Picturing a bunch of drunken, middle aged, catty Karens, screaming and smacking each other bloody with horseshoes… So want that to be true…

Coming back around to the front of Griffy’s, where we parked, I met back up with my dad for our last scheduled tour spot, a couple of blocks south of Griffy’s, just off 25 and 133rd street…

Crossing over the Skunk River, there’s some horse barns and structures to your immediate right.

With a farmhouse at the end of a long driveway. 

This was the house Carl was renting while he was running Griffy’s.

It had been painted since I last saw it (in January 2005).

My quick picture of the farmhouse was the last thing I needed before my dad and I headed back to the Twin Cities. I say needed, but I’d already written this story. I didn’t have a picture of the farmhouse when I wrote the story of Griffy’s and Genola, back in 2006. Four Baggers was a barely conceived thought in 2012. But if I ever needed it again, I’ve got it.

God loves you, Seth!

******

I moved from Colorado, back to Minnesota, in October, 2003.

Colorado wasn’t working out for several reasons, and my hopes were to regroup in Minnesota, where I should be able to find a decent job in my field. Which were more plentiful in Minneapolis, than it was in Denver. When I first got back, I was coasting on unemployment checks and an extended appointment with my Doktor, at his Flintwood office. But that wouldn’t last. Resumes were sent and went unanswered. Interviews went on and no one cared. Eventually that unemployment ran out and I had to get a job.

The folks were dropping horrifying hints at their impatience…

I decided that since I wasn’t finding work in my field, I need some money coming in.

Luckily the past was there to help my present. 

Not in the form of ironic vending machine stickers for my notebooks, from the Cub Foods…

On April 4, 2004, I worked my first shift at 99 Spillihp, since October 1996. 

The stories of the 1993-1996 99 Spillihp run can be found here (part one and part two). But as much as you can go home again, you can’t go home again. Karen was still there, but 99 Spillihp wasn’t. Corporate ownership had sold off all retail stores to smaller local companies. So 99 Spillihp was now owned by an entity I had to cal Lio Htak.

And that’s nowhere near as catchy.

Until something else came along, it gave me a chance to be 19 again. Not taking anything seriously, spending my shifts messing with my co-workers and smoking pot in the car wash. Which was fun for a while. But after about six months, it was starting to drive me crazy. I was still looking for better employment, but other than a few interviews that didn’t go beyond a first meeting, there was no luck to be had. 

So as long as I was here, I’m going to have fun with it.

Trav: “That horse on the Marlboro sign looks like it’s dunking a basketball…”

Me: “It does... I better draw him a hoop!”

Karen: “Stop drawing on the Marlboro sign!”

Me: “Wasn’t me… I think it was Ron…”

June 26, 2004

Jen and Trav drove me up to Genola, to check out Crazy Carl’s new bar. He’d invited all of us up to visit, and tonight the three of us decided to make the trek up. Earlier, Trav called me at the Spillihp to see what I was doing after getting out at five. They offered up a plan of Bravo Burrito in St. Cloud, then we’d find Genola and Griffy’s Tavern. I was instructed to look up directions in the state atlas behind the counter, and they’d pick me up around 5:30. We already knew how to get to St. Cloud, so it was figuring the route from there. Looks like County Road 1, east from St. Cloud, then catch MN State Highway 25 north, and that will take us into Genola, from the south side of town. 

Dinner was good, Bravo makes a damn tasty burrito. 

It was about 8pm when we left St. Cloud. On our way down 1 to 25, we drove past a shirtless guy riding a bicycle, smoking a cigarette. Trav made a comment about it being rather counter productive health-wise, but I pointed out that if I were to ever ride a bicycle again, I’m pretty sure I’d be smoking a cigarette now and then as I rode. 

But I haven’t been on a bicycle since 1996, so that’s irrelevant.

On the drive, we were momentarily fooled by the small town of Buckman. Less than a mile wide, yet has two bars and a church. (Genola has more bars and less church.) Rounding the corner into Genola, we found Carl’s van parked behind the bar. I wasn’t sure if this was the place he’d described as the back looked very small. But that was his van. And the sign on the back door did read “Griffy’s”.

The three of us walked in the back door, which opened to a sort of hallway leading out into the main part of the bar. Restrooms to your right, doors to the office and stairs leading down to the basement, on your left. There was also a foosball table figured in somewhere back here. I just don’t remember exactly where.

Getting a full survey of the place, revealed it to be much larger than impression from the outside. 

Just past where I think the foosball table was (or maybe it was the ATM), the room spread out to make room for a pretty good sized dance floor and stage. Carl said he loved the stage when he first saw the building. It was setup perfectly so you can see live performances from almost anywhere in the bar. Apart from the dance floor, there was a couple of pool tables, and several tables and bar stools. 

The ceiling is original from 1922, and is real copper. Which is a significant chunk of the value of the building. For some inexplicable reason, it was covered up by a drop ceiling from the late 1960's until 1989. Griffy’s was known as Rhino's then. The owner at the time, discovered the copper ceiling while doing some work. He ripped the drop ceiling out and painted it white, to cover the green corrosion. Carl pointed out the holes punched in the copper, from wires holding the drop ceiling.

Why did they think this was a good idea?

On the other side of a half wall counter/divider, was a row of electronic dart boards against the wall. To the right of this picture, would have been Griffy’s front door. Which would open up to on street parking, along Meadow Lark Road. Even further righter, would be three video games: Crazy Taxi, Big Buck Hunter and Golden Tee 2004. Then a couple of windows to allow natural light in. If you are into that sort of thing…

My first Girffy’s surprise was seeing the old Jumbotron from Carl’s basement, in the corner of the bar. No Weird Al Yankovic videos coming out of it tonight. Now it’s broadcasting a vastly confusing Dish Network to a pretty full house. After only about three people here, when we first came in. We found Carl by the bar, and he showed us around the place. 

Starting behind the bar and into the simple kitchen area. With grill, deep fryer and the usual stuff needed to serve bar food. He gave us a quick tour offering specifics on the generalities we found on our own.  Like opening the office door, where we had just seen it closed. After the office, Carl took us down to the basement, which was both creepy and cool. 

But I'll cover Girffy's basement later.

After coming upstairs, we sat at the end of the bar, and Carl got me a drink. 

The Jumbotron is now showing the Colorado Rockies playing the Indians in Cleveland. Which was nearly over, but it was a good -ending to a- game. I pulled the notebook from my backpack and started to write, while sitting at the bar. Wasn’t planning on writing much, but I wanted to jot a few things down while I was here. Jen and Trav decided to wander around outside, seeing what Griffy’s neighbors looked like. 

A few sentences in, I wrote: “This bar is a great height for writing.” Six months earlier, I’d written that same exact sentence, regarding a table in a different bar that I was hanging in, with Carl. That night he’d been telling me of plans to manage a bar, and was discussing several options he and his investor were looking into. Not long after that night, he’d found his bar, and was set to start out on a path he’d dreamed of taking for years. I’ll let Carl himself tell this part of that story.

“My duties were to be the working partner. I managed the bar, wrote the schedules for staff, ordered liquor and food, and dealt with cheerful customers. I started on May 19, 2004. We did not close until June 2nd, but felt I should have a good sense of operations before I took over. We closed and took inventory on June 1st (a holiday), and re-opened our doors for business June 2nd.”

Jen and Trav came back in about twenty minutes later. During their scouting mission, more people had come in and they’d lost their seats to quite an angry and loud crew. Including one intimidating gent in an AC-DC t-shirt. That group proceeded to play some irritating game where the object was to take some dice in a cup, then slam the cup on the table with as hard you can. As if you are trying to force those dice to the center of the Earth instead of just shaking them. 

Carl told me the game is called horses. Best out of up to three shakes, most similar dice. Ones are wild. State gambling laws prohibit the bar from shaking. But in the old days, customers would shake the bar for their drink and get it free if they win, or pay double if they lost. Apparently they were shaking to see who in the group would buy that round. I thought it was a contest to see who could leave a deeper dice cup impression in the wooden tabletop.

Taking observation of some of the decor, we note the True Music banner with the Truly Hot chick, and all sorts of 1970's era Miller and Bud neon signs. Carl added a Minnesota Vikings Budweiser neon sign, with a football guy running in place. He said that for the first two months, the neon on his right leg was broken, so he looked like he was hobbling. An apt metaphor for most every Vikings season.

A fair amount of people are dancing to country music (that really sucks) out on the dance floor. This quickly degenerated into full on line dancing. Generic country song ends, cheesy pop song comes on. They are all still line dancing. As I was writing that, Trav wanted me to note that he had a dook brewing, but couldn’t drop it at Griffy’s, due to the no door thing. 

This was a running joke about Griffy’s. When Carl first told us of the bar, he mentioned that the men’s room had no door on it. We misunderstood and thought he meant the stall had no door (it did), but the room itself was doorless. For health reasons, that was updated shortly after Carl took over. There is now a door on the mens room. 

It was after eleven now and the place was getting a fair bit rowdy. I’ve been informed that Trav wants to leave as soon as I finished my third Jack and Coke. We all wished Carl luck on his bar, before heading back to Crapids. I told him that I’d like to make it back up there when I have more time so I can really check the place out. We agreed to be in touch again soon.

******

When I was writing the Wasted Quarter issue about Griffy’s, I asked Carl for a history of the building. You see the area today, and the buildings obviously date back to the 1920’s, so I was very interested in what this place had previously been. Here’s a brief timeline Carl gave for the P. Kelzenberg building, AKA Griffy’s.

Griffy's was built in 1923, and used as a general store until 1942, when it closed. The building sat vacant from 1942 to 1949, when it was split in two halves. The right side (where the dance floor and dartboards are) was a barber shop, until it closed in 1964. The left side was became the Genola Hall, hosting ho-downs, weddings and funerals. It was renamed the Genola Bar, in 1968. In 1979, the long-closed barber shop was annexed back into the Genola Bar, walls removed to create the large open space the bar currently has. The owners of the Genola Bar passed away in 1980. Since then, the bar changed ownership and names, multiple times. Some of the previous identities that Carl mentioned are: Shooters, Rhino's Pub, Tootsie's, Gary's, and Griffy's. (A sign for Tootsie's was still attached to the back exterior wall, in 2004.)

September 23, 2004 

“What Does No Spitting Mean?”

A few nights ago, Carl stopped in at the 99 Spillihp, to gas up the van on his way back to Genola. We were standing outside enjoying a cigarette, as he was talking me into coming up to visit soon. Asked when my next day off was. ”Why not drive up to Genola after work?" Carl said. “Hang at Griffey’s, stay the night at the farmhouse, then go back home in the morning.” 

Damn, this suddenly sounded like an awesome idea. I could get away from this town for even a day. That would do me wonders right now. We’re set. 

Just then a car pulled up and a chick hopped out and ran up to Carl. His bar managing and partial ownership gig had turned into full bar ownership over 45 seconds of them talking. She asked him where he was living these days. “I bought a five bedroom farmhouse, an eighth of a mile from my bar.” She was eating up everything he served to her, then looked sad when she had to get back in her car and her friend drove away. 

“Who was that?” 

He said he worked with her when he bartended at Grumpies. I commented on the level of bullshit in his story to her. “It doesn’t matter, she’ll never come up there...” Excellently played my friend. 

Tonight is the last night before that next day off, Carl and I discussed a few nights ago. Sitting in the 99 Spillihp office at Karen’s desk, writing this. I’d just finished faxing my resume to a graphic design job in Cambridge, MN. This was a new ad in the most recent edition of the Anoka County Shopper. Which came thanks to a tip from Tracy (former official Wasted Quarter Staff Cartoonist). 

Upon closer examination of the ad, I was applying with the same company that crushed my dreams a few months ago, in July, in Anoka. This was now an attempt to hire for their Cambridge office. Look, I’m willing to relocate! I’m going to spend the next 24 plus hours immersing myself in small town, rural Minnesota! I can adapt! They never responded. Word of mouth spreads, I guess. 

Last thing on my to-do list while at work. Was to double check the route to Genola, in the Minnesota atlas. I remembered the route from St. Cloud, in June. But I wanted a possible alternate route, not involving driving to St. Cloud first. How about driving north up highway 169, then west on County Road 21, into Pierz? I wrote this down on a scrap of paper and tucked it safely into the outer cellophane shell of my cigarettes. Where I keep all important small notes for easy access storage. The car had been previously gassed up and loaded with sleeping bag and a few overnightish type things. Backpack stocked with recently purchased ubernotebook, Mr. Book III and a spare Uniball Micro. Now it just needs to be 11pm.

Smooth sailing all the way up 169, until a construction sign told me that County Road 21 was closed. After I missed the turn that was supposed to be the detour, a few miles earlier. Driving through wooded areas and flat farmlands in pitch blackness, high beams illuminating roadside features, reminding me of driving to Winona on Minnesota vacations past. Which is kind of this on a different scale. Was so lost in thought, I drove through my turn in Pierz. For the second time, I have to double back and make another right left turn to correct my mistake.

Nice peaceful drive up here.

93 miles on the speedometer. 

Almost closing time when I walked inside Griffy’s. Carl had already shut down most of the lights, turned off a lot of the games and other bar type electrical things. He introduced me to Bill, who was working behind the bar, and some of the lingering regulars. Most of that same cast would be here every time I’d walk through Griffy’s doors. 

The Twins game I’d been listening to on the way up, had just ended when we turned it on the Jumbotron. So I drank my Jack and Coke and tested a Mike’s Hard Lime (far too sweet) while watching Dilbert then Duckman, with a chaser of Court TV. The drummer from the local 1980’s cover band, Hyjinx, was meeting with Carl tonight. They’ve been discussing booking an appearance in a few weeks. I chatted with him for a bit, while Carl was away dealing with closing time business. 

After he officially closed the bar for the night, and kicked everyone except Bill out, we took an extended photo tour of the place. Pictures taken tonight are scattered throughout this story. Unfortunately, this was 2004, before decent digital cameras were included in our phones. So for this mission, I was stuck with a barely functional 35mm camera, that didn’t focus on anything. Which sucked because I knew there would be at least a Wasted Quarter to come from this. 

Yeah…These photos aren’t great.

Before we left Griffy’s for the night, Carl wanted to show me the roof and the view from it. Even though it was dark. To access the roof over the bar, we had to climb the stairs leading to the two apartments over the MeadowLark Combo. 

When asked, Carl explained the MeadowLark Combo consists of those apartments above a restaurant, that is only open on Sundays, for lunch buffet. The Meadowlark Combo was originally a hotel and restaurant for the train passengers. At some point, it became the Red Rooster bar, which lasted until 1999. A new and much larger Rooster Bar was built further down MeadowLark Road, where it meets Highway 25.

On the balcony, we had to walk to the end and pull ourselves up over the five foot wall, to reach Griffy’s roof. Carl had warned me of weak spots, and areas to not walk over. (Which I’d forgotten about, until reading about 2009 roof repairs on the auction flyer.) He was right, the view was pretty incredible from up there. With no light pollution from nearby suburban shopping centers, the sky was deep blue with white speckles that waxed and waned in intensity as far as you could see. But the weather had gotten pretty cool that night. Standing up there in a pretty stiff wind, was getting uncomfortable. So we didn’t linger long when the Griffy’s tour stopped up there.

Before heading downstairs and back inside, I took a pee off the roof into the dumpster of the Corner Cafe. 

MEN!

The angle was difficult, but I made it work. Was standing just above the sign for Tootsies, which was this bar’s identity pre-Griffy’s. Not sure why he didn’t remove that sign during the re-brand.

******

Griffy’s now closed, Carl had me follow him to the farmhouse. Entire distance for Carl from work to home, was only an eighth of a mile. The gravel driveway goes a ways back from the road, with a long white horse barn to your immediate right. A vehicle turnaround ends the driveway, with another barn, and a two story farmhouse around it. Also painted white and peeling. 

Interior of the farmhouse is decorated in late stage early-divorce. With the living room tastefully adorned with two chairs pulled from the kitchen table, a small TV and VCR on the floor, with a box of videotapes next to it. What About Bob? is on the TV. I find that movie funny despite immediate protests from Bill. He’s the one sitting next to the remote, and he hasn’t changed the channel. 

The house had three bedrooms upstairs, but I never went up there. Carl led me down the short hallway, to a small room for me to use for the night. That bedroom had little for furniture. A small TV amongst various small articles of nothing scattered on the floor, was all this room had for amenities. Not that I needed anything else. 

Especially now that I see an Aero Bed for me to sleep on! Unfortunately it wasn’t filled with dope and $100 bills... I checked, but this model of Aero Bed did NOT feature a fully functional vagina... No glittery, chocolate fairy to grant me wishes either. I placed my backpack on the floor and laid my sleeping bag out on the pre-inflated bed, then ventured out to the kitchen to re-join Carl. 

He and I settled on a pound of bacon, when we both decided we needed that tonight. After burning the first pan-load, causing Bill to have a spaz and throw the pan outside. After he was done yelling at Carl, we made another attempt at late night breakfast. One thing Bill could not do was dampen our enthusiasm for bacon! We proceeded to get a new pan and fried the rest of the package. This time using a more responsible temperature setting. Deciding to leave the chef uninterrupted, I set up the notebook at the kitchen table and wrote. Bill went back into the living room, and tried to soothe his drunken nerves with Windsor and a VHS of live Roy Orbison from 1986. Our non-burned bacon turned out pretty good, a tad salty though. I only jotted a few notes down at the table before we called it a night. Carl went upstairs to his room, and I ventured back to mine, sat on Aero Bed and wrote for a while longer before shutting off the lights and retiring. 

******

It was roughly quarter after noon when Carl woke me up with a knock at my door. After a quick get myself and stuff assembled period, we were on our way to Griffy’s. Probably less than 10 minutes from wake up to parking behind the bar. I chose to stay in the van while he ran inside to do a couple things. Looking out at the sky to the west of the bar, you could see a pretty good sized storm was going to roll in this afternoon. Dreams of snapping some excellent storm pictures drifted through my head. With open views all around, there may be a chance to get something cool on film. 

Carl interrupted daydreams by returning to the van and pulling onto Highway 25. We first had to go to the modest grocery store in Pierz for sour cream and buns needed for the afternoon. It was SuperValu in 2004, it’s Pierz Foods today. But it is still open. He said would only go here for one or two items when he ran low. Otherwise, the food wholesaler or Sam’s Club in St Cloud was the norm. I checked out the place while Carl grabbed what was needed. This was a shrunken condensed version of a grocery store. Almost cute in that regard. Seemed rather pricey. Can understand why, when there aren’t many other options nearby. 

We drove back to the bar to put the food in the cooler, then grabbed the deposit and off to the Farmers and Merchants bank, about a half mile north in Pierz. Their drive up teller window is awkward to access from Carl’s van. He told me that the female tellers are responsible for about 50% of the total town gossip pool.

Another stop before returning to Griffy’s, a gift store (ala Hallmark) in Pierz so Carl could buy a get well card for someone I cant remember. I chose to sit in the van and smoke a cigarette and drink my coffee, rather than go in. When he came back out, he told me they had no electricity. Looking down the streets as we drove, it appeared no one else had power. Nor did Griffy’s, further south in Genola, when we returned at 1:34pm. Just over an hour after Carl woke me. You have to admire our efficiency...

Since the power was out and nothing much was going on in the bar, I used this time to take photographs of the front of Griffy’s and the surrounding area. Most importantly, the remains of the old Mobil station. Parts of which were still standing when I was up here in June. All that’s left now are the pumps, the overhead canopy, and part of the old Mobil pole sign. 

Looking for background, I asked Carl about his new -yet missing- neighbor. He said it was a general store and butcher shop from 1948-1997. (Makes sense with the other businesses in the immediate area, and the past existence of the Son Line railroad tracks, just to the north.) They wanted to expand their business in the mid 1990’s, so Mobil gas pumps were installed, along County Road 25. 

Success for the property didn’t come by adding gas… The original owner of the store passed away in 1996. His two kids took over and ran it into the ground. The store closed less than a year after they took it over. MN State Inspection stickers affixed to the pumps are last dated August 1997. The building sat empty until the Summer of 2004, when it was demolished. Someone who lived in Morrison county bought the land in early 2004. He paid a lot for asbestos removal and tore the building down in June 2004. Carl said he’d planned to build a new and larger gas station on the property, but as of 2025, that hasn’t happened.

The still-standing Mobil sign reads: Regular Unleaded, 90 cents. Sounds unbelievable today, but I’d venture to say that for a majority of my 1993-1996 days at 99 Spillihp, regular unleaded gas was under $1.00 per gallon. I don’t known when the Mobil sign pole, gas pumps and canopy were removed. I took pictures of them in September 2012, but according to Gogglesmobile drive bys, they were gone by November 2015. However, the cement pads surrounding the pumps and canopy, are still in the ground in 2025.

As I walked around the remaining pieces of gas station, it started to rain. The clouds overhead had become rather menacing, and hopes were high for some sort of scary nature attack. Ominous addition, with the entire town of Genola already going without power. My photo taking mission completed, I decided to go back inside Griffy’s to write about it for a while. 

Three locals had come in and were drinking canned beer, while sitting at the table by the window. Enough natural light coming through to illuminate that whole corner, plus most of the bar. I’m sitting at the counter on the opposite side, with only the light from a much smaller window to illuminate my notebook. Looking outside, I can see it’s gotten darker and is raining harder now. Increasing my anticipation of the upcoming storm. After a half hour of everyone sitting in the dark, the power came back on. I was able to move back to my more comfortable spot at the bar. One more glance out the window, sure looks like it’s going to tornado out too. 

What I needed was to find out some details on what exactly was headed this way. Since the trickle of incoming locals were unable to provide much insight, beyond what I could plainly see for myself, I was going to need a different sort of neighbor. The Good Neighbor, WCCO 830 AM. No matter the degree of turbulence in the air, their signal always makes it through the worst of storms. Hell, I’ve picked up the WCCO AM signal in the middle of Nebraska before. What this situation calls for is an information gathering car break!  

I had parked between Carl’s van and another truck. At an angle providing a great view of the oncoming storm to the southeast, as well as privacy from all directions of traffic. Thanks to the curve in 25 directly in front of me, and the billboards blocking the view, this spot is almost garageworthy. Except it being uncovered…

WCCO gave details on what I wanted to hear in regards to this storm. Scary stuff had missed us in the greater Genola/Pierz area, just dropping a bunch of rain while I was sitting there. But there was a mess of warnings out for the areas I’d have to drive through to get home. Nothing too severe, lots of thunder & lightning, torrential downpours and high winds, with potential for tornadoes. Quickly decided to postpone the return home and linger for a few hours. Not wanting to hit the metro at the same time as a severe thunderstorm and rush hour traffic. I can wait until later tonight.

3:18pm - Carl made me really good bacon cheeseburger, after I helped him hang a new light up beer sign.

We hung it above the ATM, having great difficulty in getting it level. The sign wasn’t centered in the cheap plastic box frame from 1998, and the outlet was messed up when we tried to turn it on. Carl told me the smaller alcohol companies have a very small advertising budget. If you display their crappy sign in a prominent location (maybe above the ATM?), they’ll possibly send you a nicer sign, possibly a neon. 

The discussion of sucking up to the vendors and distributors morphed into his plans on marketing and promotion. Before that really got started, Carl disappeared. I found him about fifteen minutes later, on the phone doing important stuff, jotting notes down on a pack of cigarettes. (To be fair, he just bought a calendar book.) He’s working on changing the focus of the bar into a destination for the younger crowds, booking more live bands and promoting Griffy’s on local radio stations. 

Some cheap promotional Griffy’s pull-tabs. These were not sold, just given away at the bar sometimes.

About ten minutes later, Carl returned and told me he was setting up a promotion with Wild 99.3, a country music station out of St. Cloud. He bought a package that included 20 thirty second radio spots, plus a live 2 hour Thursday night broadcast from Griffy’s, along with hosting a karaoke show after the broadcast. Also included in this package, they will give away tickets to the upcoming Toby Keith concert. This whole hootenanny will be promoted as a featured stop on Toby Keith’s “I Love This Bar!” 2004 Tour.

Sadly, Toby is too busy to make a personal appearance. 

I’ll let Carl expand on his promotions a little further:

"During my time, I sponsored three pool teams, two dart teams, one bowling team (never again) and that previously mentioned women’s horseshoe team. We also sponsored the Pierz Pioneer sports programs, the local catholic high school DARE program, we stayed open X-Mess eve and day, raising $500 for the local food shelf. We did about fifteen family benefits. Ranging from people paralyzed in ATV accidents, to people dying of cancer."

(When Carl sent me answers to the questions I’d asked him, he typed ATM accidents. Wonder where that ranks in comparison to a small jazz accident?)

Carl also established daily promotions for Griffy’s: 

Monday - Happy Hour all night 

Tuesday - Bud Light bottle special and 1.75 Windsor (Bill's favorite!)

Wednesday - Tasty Taco Night!

Thursday - 1/2 price appetizers

Friday & Saturday - Live entertainment

Sunday - Bingo, and Vikings drink specials during the game.

Business was kind of slow this afternoon, so I took a break from writing at the bar to play a game of Crazy Taxi. This is yet another newer video game that would be a lot more fun if they would give you enough time to actually play it. I understand the concept of learning to play better to earn more game time. But I didn’t even play for 4 minutes. At 50 cents per game, that’s just not a good enough cost/entertainment ratio, to warrant any more of my quarters going in.

I told Carl that he needs a Pac-Man machine for the bar and he asked to borrow mine.

Nope. Not gonna happen. 

After my brief video game play, I returned to the notebook at the bar. Reflecting on the drive up and time spent here, versus what I would likely be doing on my day off back home. This has been an excellent break from the monotony of Crapids and 99 Spillihp. Hello Super-Mullet... Just hanging out at the bar now is nice too. I can kick back and write while chain smoking, and I don’t get interrupted by too much. Like IHOP boothrotting with more ambient entertainment. There’s now a few people around me talking loudly, and Con-Air is on the TV above me. While the cast is interesting, the plot just sucks. I feel the same about the movie too. 

Carl is working until five tonight, then I don’t know what we’re doing. It’s almost 4:20 now, possible Car Break on the horizon. He just turned the Twins game on the Jumbotron for me. Back to eavesdropping on semi-interesting conversations, as the bar is starting to fill up for the evening rush. Griffy’s customers were typically farmers or tree trimmers. The bankers, teachers and lawyers of town, went to Patrick’s in Pierz. The average working Joe, small business owner, drank at Griffy’s. People are playing pool and a card game is starting at the end of the bar. Customers are gathering at most of his tables, and Bill finally showed up to work the upcoming rush.

I’ve been told that I’m being referred to in the bar as “the guy from the cities.” Other people are referring to Little Falls as the city. I like to think I fall somewhere in between. 

Speaking of the city, Carl and I had to make a quick roadtrip to the Little Falls WallMart for CD-R’s, Skull Crushing Teal Sharpie and the Ultimo Dragon. Purchasing a grand total of three items was even a hassle at small town WallMarts, as every cart in the express lanes had 40+ items in them. Surprisingly, we got back to the bar in less than an hour. How many trips to the city go that quick? Once back, we hung in the office, hiding from the bar itself. Carl burned me a disk of Bud Light: Real Men of Genius commercials, that he got from the liquor distributor. We listened to some of them in his cluttered office. Some of those were pretty clever, for an ad campaign selling crappy beer.

That Skull Crushing Teal Sharpie dried out and was thrown away years ago, so a less Skull Crushing Silver Sharpie was used for the photography stand-in. Ultimo Drago is the actual one purchased at the Little Falls Walmarts. The CD-R’s of Bud Light: Real Men of Genius commercials were added to my MP3 collection, where they are still enjoyed today.

Carl also gave me an inflatable Budweiser blimp. It sat in the backseat of my car until I moved back to Colorado. Then it was re-inflated and flown proudly in the Littleton, Colorado, Walk-In Closet of Doom. Until I quit re-hanging it, after my head knocked it down too many times. It’s currently in a box, somewhere in the basement. If I could easily find it, I’d re-inflate it (should be fun after 20 more years of smoking, since the last time it I blew it up) for pictures to add to this story.

Rain had stopped when I brought my stuff out to the car, spots of sun are even shining through the clouds. Our severe wonderstorm had passed, and I’d be hitting the road in the next hour. Before leaving, I was finishing this page in my notebook, and snack on some chicken strips Carl made.

As I’m eating and writing, I get another “you sure write small” comment... Her name is Rhonda. With an H. She made sure to mention that to me, so I would write about her in my notebook. Without trying, this ended up turning into a conversation. I accidentally told her about Wasted Quarter, then she wanted me to write about her in that too.

I assured her (and the others that brought up the same questions) that I wasn’t going to write about this place in Wasted Quarter, because: “There is no story. It’s just here.”

I lied.

I’m planning to take a walk in a little while. Besides, my writing space has been invaded and Bill is late. A few hundred feet north of the bar is the Soo Line Trail, which was a must-see for me, though I didn’t take any pictures for some reason. These are from 2012.

When I was a little kid, I was fascinated by trains. My parents would take several drives each year, to the Fargo/Moorhead area, to visit family. I liked those drives because about 75% of the Highway 10 route, had the BNSF railroad tracks within sight. Those are high traffic dual rails, so watching trains happened multiple times each way. One of the most important things I wanted to do after Laura and I moved back to Minnesota, was to make the Highway 10 drive to replicate and photograph what I remembered from childhood. That mission was an absolute success, and included this photo of the bridge. (After you finish reading this, go read My Stupid Vacation to Fargo.)

One of the landmarks I always noted was the Soo Line Railroad bridge, that crosses Highway 10, between Royalton and Little Falls. Just because of the novelty of a rail line crossing over another rail line (the BNSF line runs parallel to Highway 10 here), I liked this bridge when I was a kid. Only ever saw one train crossing it, probably 1982 or 1983. As the years went on, I assumed that the tracks were no longer used, and wondered if the bridge would ever be taken down. 

The question was answered when I visited Genola.

No more trains, but the whole thing still exists in a new form!

In November 1988, Soo Line filed an intent to abandon their rail line, with the Interstate Commerce Commission. The date of abandonment was not official, according to the paperwork filed. I couldn’t find any record of when the last train made the route, so I’ll assume it was November 1988. Possibly earlier. Former Morrison County Commissioner, Faye Petron, created the Regional Rail Authority, in 1989. This allowed the affected counties to negotiate with Soo Line over buying the land the tracks used. With a plan to repurpose the line as public ATV/Snowmobile trail. 

The project was a success, but it took nearly 10 years from when Soo Line abandoned the rail line, for each county on the line to buying the land. Then the tracks had to be removed, along with all of the ties and loose rock that formed the rail bed, for the entire length of the line. Plus a conversion of all the bridges, along all 114 miles of the former Soo Line railroad.

Standing on the Soo Line Trail, where railroad tracks use to be. Facing east, looking toward Highway 25. The new(er) Red Rooster Bar is on the right, with their volleyball court and picnic tables on the left. Just east of where the tracks used to intersect 25, is the old bridge crossing over the Skunk River. I wanted to walk around on the bridge and see what the view was like, but didn’t. 

Soo Line opened a railway that ran from Brooten, MN, to Duluth, MN, via Superior, WI, in the Fall of 1908. This line mainly served agriculture transport, carrying grain from rural Minnesota, to the shipping harbors of Duluth/Superior. It was also a popular route for passengers looking to travel to Duluth. This rail line led to new towns popping up along the path. Bowlus (love that name), Hillman and Vawter are a few in the area. Of course, establishing the Soo Line route directly led to the creation of Genola. Originally founded as New Pierz, in 1908, and then Grainville, before settling on the name Genola in 1915.

Genola peaked in size in the early 1920’s, with a population of 156, in the 1920 census. By 1930, Genola’s population had dropped by more than half. Only 68 people resided in Genola, as of the 1930 census. A rebound to 108 in the 1960 census was the last time more than 100 people called Genola home. Population hit an all time low of 66, in 2020. 

Nationwide, railroad business was steadily declining in the 1970’s. By the early 1980’s, Soo Line was looking to scale back on their miles of track. The line from Brooten to Duluth, cutting through Genola, was on the chopping block. And in 1988, was abandoned.

Back to the Red Rooster for a second, directly in the middle of where volleyball and picnic now happens, used to stand the old Genola train depot.

Thanks to the Googles, I found a great picture!

And thank you, Tom Carlson, for taking it!

According to Morrison County Railroad history, the Genola depot was built in 1908, and torn down in the late 1970’s. As a bonus note that I wish was followed up on, the brief informational summary ends with: “some of the pieces were used for a restaurant renovation in Pierz.” 

What?

Where?

Looking at this picture is making me fight all urges to Google Maps it. Clicking on parts of the picture to move the car around. Not only do you have the old Genola depot, but a great look at Meadow Lark Road, beyond the tracks. You can see the Meadow Lark Combo (the original Red Rooster) and Griffy’s. Also, the large store that would eventually have a Mobil gas station behind it, and get demolished in 2004, is standing. 

If you look behind the depot, a small square brick building sits close to the railroad tracks….

That building still exists today! And it still existed in 2012, when I took this picture! I don’t know what it was/is used for. The windows are boarded over and the front doors are barred, so there must be something important behind them. This small hut is located directly across from Griffy's.

Looking west down the Soo Line Trail. The Genola Grain Company is on the left side of the ghost tracks.

The Genola Grain Company sits just down the street from Griffy’s. Elevators look different than what is shown in the 1974 photo. The cylinder elevator looks newer, with the tower behind it being much older. The 1974 photo shows two of these tower structures, side by side. Wonder what happened to the second one?

The Genola Grain Co. is still operating today.

Hopefully they’ve cleaned up their plain Helvetica rusty sign since 2019. 

November 8, 2004, 4:38pm

Earlier this morning, I made a CD of Camper Van Beethoven songs for the roadtrip music. They had become my go-to band for most of 2004. I’d been a fan since the late 1980’s, when I picked up their first album, Telephone Free Landslide Victory, on cassette, at the Brookdale Musicland. In December 1991, I was with the family in way isolated northern North Dakota, for my grandfather’s wedding. Camper Van Beethoven’s 1989 album, Key Lime Pie, was about the only cassette I listened to on my Walkman, the whole time. Their sound represented deep rural Minnesota/North Dakota. A 2002 box set, Cigarettes and Carrot Juice, combined releases from 1985-1988, brought them back to prominence.

In mid-October 2004, they released their first new album in 14 years. New Roman Times was written as an album long piece involving a young soldier who loses his leg in combat and becomes disillusioned by the country he thought he knew. Given where I was in life during 2004, it really spoke to me. Does it hold up today? In a 2018 interview, CVB vocalist David Lowery said:

"New Roman Times was intended as a kind of commentary on the fake-ish red/blue narrative that emerged in the media in the lead up to the Iraq war. The crazy conspiratorial elements were thrown in because it’s a Camper Van Beethoven album. The fact our 2003 unreality better matches 2018’s reality should bother us all."

Yup, and after a re-listen, it absolutely stands up.

A few weeks after the new album came out, Trav and I went to see them at First Avenue. Loved seeing my favorites off the new album mixed in with their early stuff from the mid 1980’s. After the show, they hung out with fans by the merch stand. I bought their live CD and got the full band to sign it. For a few minutes, I discussed politics with Victor (the bassist). At least I think it was Victor… I’d mentioned how tough the job market has been. He agreed and added how tough it is all over the country. His reply ended with: “We’re all fucked if Bush gets re-elected next week.” This was days before the 2004 presidential election, and we all know how that went. He wished me luck in my job search and gave me an “I Would Fight for Hippie Chicks” bumper sticker that’s on my 2006 notebook. 

The Camper Van Beethoven roadtrip disk went great with the drive, with the 80 minute run time lasting nearly the whole distance. The songs I put on it will forever bring back memories of driving to and around Genola. Mixed in with the political climate of the day.  

20 years ago, it was an illegal war that Americans were lied into, for oil. Or freedom… Whatever the party line was back then. Discourse and arguments supporting it bordered on stupid, most of the time. But you could see the unwavering tribalism taking shape. Compare that to what that discourse and arguments are today, and 2004 almost seems novel or cute.

Now logic is completely removed, and blind allegiance crossed the absurd a decade ago…

They never have an answer.

It’s exhausting.

Now it’s dangerous.

******

Today was free vendor sample day at the 99 Spillihp. I just tried the Ice Breakers Liquid Ice Mini-Balls, which aren’t too bad. The remainder of the container was tucked into my pocket and eaten over the next few days. The empty container resided in the ashtray of the Blueberry Honksicle, until I donated it to that obnoxious advertising jingle, in 2018… 

Oh, I can’t resist… “1-8-7-7 Kars 4 Kids… K-A-R-S Kars 4 Kids…1-8-7-7 Kars 4 Kids… Donate your car today!” There, now it’s stuck in your head! Coincidentally, the first time I ever heard that jingle, was in early 2004. They were a big sponsor of Air America Radio, which I was listening to a lot of in 2004-2005, for a non-propaganda take on the Iraq war.

I also sampled the new Hershey’s Smart Zone controlled release nutrition bar. Despite the wrapper claiming it was strawberry, it tasted like the usual sawdust textured nast those things tend to be. However, I did grab the “lemon” flavored one for the next morning’s breakfast. As soon as I was off work tonight, I was heading for Genola. It was a rare night that I wasn’t closing, so I’d be able to hit the road by eight, instead of 11:30. That can’t come too soon, as I just had to deal with another customer tantrum about how slow my co-worker is.

A week later, that would no longer be a problem. 

As I was driving down County Road 21, just before it mystically grows by 18, into County Road 39, I spotted a small heard of deer standing alongside the road. Some of them made eye contact with me for a split second, as I’m having tiny split second heart attacks, picturing them all darting out in front of me. And the resulting massive multiple deer/Ford Escort pile-up. They held their ground and allowed me to pass through safely. Was still trying to calm my heart rate down as I was coming into Pierz. 

By the time I made the turn south onto Highway 25, I needed to make a stop at the B.P. Station. Just couldn’t wait the few more blocks to Griffy’s. The Pierz B.P. was a really useful store, I don’t think there was a day spent in Genola, that I didn’t set foot inside. B.P. was also Carl’s daily stop for coffee, gas, cigarettes and other convenience store needs. They would also help him out with ones and quarters, and he did the same for them. “Plus they usually had some cute teenage girls working the registers. Always real friendly too!”

The restroom of my B.P. stop, had a box of disposable toilet seat wipes hung on the wall. With a slogan that had to be recorded for the upcoming Wasted Quarter List. “Contains Alcohol for Maximum Effectiveness!” I didn’t have any paper on me at the time, so I had jotted the phrase down on a $20 bill. Told Carl the story behind the quote when I broke it to buy a drink, about 45 minutes later. He rewarded my story by turning down the bar lights, making writing a bit more difficult for me. 

I set my notebook down on the counter and started writing at exactly 10:01pm. The Minnesota Vikings are starring in Monday Night Football, playing the Indianapolis Colts. This is on all of Griffy’s TVs, including the Jumbotron. Just as I would expect it to be. About 15-20 locals are in attendance. Good crowd for 10pm on a Monday night, Carl tells me. Colts up by a touchdown, 21-14 in the third quarter. The crowd is tense as Minnesota has the ball. I do my best to hide. Carl is busy with bar related activities, so I sit quietly and write, sipping a complimentary Jack and Coke. Found a comfortable countertop writing space on the opposite the crowd. Reactions from the folks in attendance alert me to look up when something footbally happens. So I know I should look up at a screen. 

During the uninteresting parts of the big football match, I was writing notes down about the drive: “The high point of driving up here is the high point you reach on the drive up here.” Driving on desolate areas of highway, in the dark of night, is one of the things I like doing most. Nothing can compare to the isolated two lane road, from Murdo, South Dakota, to North Platte, Nebraska, between the hours of 1am to 4am…

Uh-oh... The locals are getting rowdy... The Vikings game must be getting extra footbally judging by bar reactions. Super Happy Vikings Guy is pounding his fists on the metal sign on the bar. Because Duante Culpepper can hear him… In Indianapolis… Well, maybe it worked. The Vikings did just tie the game after all. 

As I’m reflecting my drive up thoughts to the notebook, I was interrupted by Rhonda. Who remembered me from my visit a month ago. She asks me what I’m currently writing, then asked about the copy of WQ56 (which had been printed since I’d last been here) sitting on the bar. I told her it was Carl’s. I’d given him a copy when I got here. Before I could return it to my backpack, it caught an eye.

I explained the concept of self-publishing my own books to her, which blew her mind. She then took it all around the bar to show her friends. My label as a weirdo was cemented. Carl had said he didn’t want people at the bar to see it. But too late… He later told me a story about a guy getting busted smoking weed in the parking lot. Word spread and business has been down ever since. Well, sorry bout that... Find it so hypocritical the drinking crew would act so childish over marijuana. 

Rhonda just paid me for her own copy of WQ56. Rather than censor my own work, I’ll gladly take the three bucks and smile. Used it to buy myself another Jack and Coke. Hope you liked the issue, it’s still one of my all time favorites. Several months after he was done working at Griffy’s, I asked Carl if there was any backlash from Wasted Quarter being seen by his customers. He replied: “Surprisingly, no.” Rhonda wants to know when I’m going to write about Griffy’s. I blow it off with the statement that I probably never will, because there’s no story here. Knowing full well that there’s too many stories for me to cover here. Rhonda argues that very point with me. How could I begin to tell them all? 

Well, I knew before I ever stepped foot in Genola, the exact story I was going to write. Griffy’s and Genola was going to serve as the backdrop for covering life during an indeterminate period of time. My reactions and observations to completely different surroundings, would help tell the story of frustration with underemployment and fruitless job searches. Frustration with living in Coon Rapids as I’m pushing 30, doing the exact same thing as when I living in Coon Rapids as I was pushing 20. Frustration with an uncertain future under the dark cloud of an unjust war. Frustration with every part of life. 

But coming up to Genola was my break.

And I was absolutely going to write about it.

Rhonda buys me a drink, as I let her down gently in her dream of becoming a star on my lack of coattails. Carl gets me another Jack and Coke. Stiff and tasty... Making the cigarette chaser bite the tongue in that split second painful way. I am really buzzing right now... Rhonda has wandered off yet again to find her husband. We were introduced earlier when she first interrupted my writing time. He wasn't impressed.

Some other guy is now standing behind me, making comments about my writing. I find this incredibly rude. I can hear you! Now he’s loudly explaining to his woman that I am indeed writing very small. From his vantage point, he can see that much. He can’t see that I’m writing about what how obnoxious this is. 

She finally drunkenly stumbles over, looks at my notebook and says: “That’s not that small, I’ve seen smaller writing before…” Now both of them start making fun of my writing. Because it’s small, but not too small, while they are standing right next to me. What world am I in? Lingering, commenting and staring was making me writing paranoid. Luckily I was saved by a game tying Vikings touchdown, as my two hecklers moved on to high fives and another round at their table. 

My writing subject of the drive up had finally been covered, so I needed new inspiration. Just as I wrote that, a hot spooky goth chick and her preppy Abercrombie & Fitch frat boy walk into Griffy’s, via the back entrance. He’s ignoring her at the same time as he’s trying to impress her. Doesn’t take much to notice how amazingly bored she is with him. He’s acting as if he’s on a dating show, I just haven’t seen the camera crew. Well, there is an excellent chance that this is how he always is. Yup, it’s a first date. This guy hasn’t yet figured out that he’s not going to get to bang the freak at the end of it. She looks as if she’s preparing to stab his eyes out with bar toothpicks. 

They didn’t stay long, as about 20 minutes later, she stormed out, and he followed cluelessly behind.

If I’m to trust the clock on the wall, it’s quarter after eleven. Trust is a factor with bar clocks because they are usually set fast. And I couldn’t remember if Carl told me these were, and by how much. My cell phone doesn’t get a signal up here (adding to the seclusion), so I don’t carry it as my watch. The 10 o’clock news just came on. But it’s 11:20? Sometimes having volume on the TV would help for clarity… Adding to my confusion, their story on playground bullying uses a school playground as a backdrop. Sun high in the sky in the wide view of the playground with children playing. Logo in the corner of the screen beaming: Live! 

What laws of time and physics did I break in visiting Genola? 

I need another drink Carl... 

Live news report just said that Bush 2 is sending another batch of U.S. troops over to Iraq. Two thousand of which are from Minnesota. Minor dissent is quietly muttered amongst the crowd. Bush 2 didn’t take Minnesota in the presidential election, a few days earlier. Still, I expected broader support up here in Toby Keith country. 

File this under good to know: Carl just told me his bar clocks are set ten minutes fast. 

After a period of zoning out to the TV, drinking and chain smoking, I focused back to writing. Placing my head in my arm and leaning in close. Watching the ink dry on the paper as it comes out the tip on my pen.  Noticing the excellent paper quality this notebook features. For $7.00, this paper had better be of damn good in quality. A sentence spoken in my vicinity snaps me out of ink drying hypnosis…

“You should have cut out her puss and rubbed it on a tree!”

(For much needed context, they were talking about deer hunting. Which makes that sentence only slightly less horrifying to overhear in conversation.)

The war is on the TV above me. Sappy country music is playing loudly. Carl is on the phone trying to round up some dart tips. Still kinda wished that van parked outside meant what my wild imagination conjured up. This is such a weird setting for me right now. Drunk and high, watching U.S. troops invade homes in Fallujah as someone is buying the bar a drink. You already know what I want Carl. 

As he handed me my Jack and Coke, Carl told me that he put in a Carbone’s sausage and pepperoni pizza for me. He recently switched vendors, and is now getting frozen Carbone’s for the bar. Better taste and has been selling more than their previous brand, Gourmet. At least no one is playing that damn dice cup slamming game tonight. Damat! Loud bar assholes started the dice cup slamming deal, just as soon as I wrote that. And this pop country music from the jukebox sucks ass. Even the bad nu-metal from a few minutes ago was better.

Carl should be having a pretty good night. There’s a few more people in here now, after the Vikings game ended. Expected the opposite. And they are buying lots of drinks. Bar time is now five minutes after midnight. Time for a walk to Griffy’s men’s room. Where I will open the door first. As I was doing what I went there for, I was looking at the men’s room prophylactics vending machine. Think it’s time for some investigative reporting for my future WQ story…

Say Carl! How fresh are the rubbers in the rubber machine? 

“Rubber and Tampon guy came around every three months. I'd check em once a month, on average they where five months old. The shelf on the packaged condom is 24 months.”

Thanks for snapping me back into reality Carl, but my pizza isn’t done yet. That cheese is too white. Needs to have deep golden brown cheese bubbles across the entire surface. Check it in 3 more minutes. Several people are now complaining to him that the bar is too hot. I think it feels just fine in here. Ozzy is now crooning a Sharon-penned ballad on the jukebox, and it’s not one of her better ideas. At least singing along with Ozzy has settled Rhonda down. I’m still the small writing weirdo, but at least I’m not hearing it non-stop, for the last few minutes.

To remember my tasty Carbone’s pizza by, there’s a nice orange pizza booger smeared on that page of the notebook. Goes great with the spilled cappuccino some ditzy customer dumped on the 99 Spillihp counter, a couple weeks earlier. Staining the edges of at least 30 pages of my brand new $7.00 notebook. (I'd forgotten what caused that stain, when I pulled it out to work on this issue. Glad I wrote it down on this page.) Contrasting dinner entertainment choices... White Zombie on the jukebox, Dharma and Greg on the TV. 

It’s after 1am now, and I wonder how long the folks here will linger, before we can close up and go to the farmhouse. Bill just shut off the lights, now it’s just about too dark to write here any longer. Going to finish out this page. Leaning in close, as I can only see my notebook from the dim light of the touch screen video game, attached to the bar in front of me.

Eavesdropping on the people talking around me, is a favorite pastime. Subjects such as football, lesbian tendencies, racism, hunting, women, local history, religion, the Iraq war, beer, fist fights, snowmobiling and the economy. Catching only bits and pieces as conversations around me ebb and flow in dominance. You think you overhear something that your brain twisted around as the words entered your head. There’s no way I just heard THAT! Only to have it later confirmed that you indeed heard correct…

“That girl is 21. She will be 22 in a few days. Couldn’t catch all of it, but it sure sounded like they were going to go home and fuck. The chick and her stepdad for certain, brother likely shut out in the cold. Poor guy…”

Wasn’t much longer after that, I put my stuff in my backpack and joined the socializing with the rest of the people still there. Another Griffy’s bartender, who wasn’t working that night, stopped in just before close. He hung out with Carl and Bill, and a couple customers that lingered until about 2:30. When they left, we did a quick finish-off cleaning up and headed to the farmhouse. 

“Why are you watching this stupid gay shit? This is just stupid! Are these guys gay? Are you on drugs?”

The three of us hung in the living room, once we got back. Smoking, drinking and played a Direct TV trivia game on the satellite. I beat both of them, frustrating Bill and bumming out Carl. Who told me I handed him his first ever loss in that house, by visitor and/or roommate. Bill went back to tending to his web site, so we left him to do that. His hobby was rubber stamping every dollar bill he touched, with www.centralminn.com. This was an advertising site that he did make some money off of. Bill used to put Griffy's specials and promotions on this site. Which still exists in 2006. (In 2025, it does not.) At the site’s peak, it had about 150 visitors a day to the website. Carl and I decided to call it a night on that note. 

Unfortunately Carl was correct, the comfy Aero Bed was indeed gone. Replaced by a small bed with a thin uncomfortable mattress. It did provide me with a bit more space for my sleeping bag, notebook and stuff, as I sat and jotted down a few more details before going to bed: “I have no idea what time it is. Mama’s Family is on in the living room. Really loud too. I’m too tired to write anyways.”

Despite being semi-drunk, and totally exhausted, I slept shitty until I cracked the window for some fresh air. Temperatures were in the low 20’s, but it was so hot in that room, both nostrils were welded shut. My theory being sleeping would be much better with the aid of breathing. 

Carl told me it was about quarter after five this morning when we went to bed. I slept until two in the afternoon, when he woke me up. After getting ready to be alive again, Carl informed me of the day’s missions. We had to drive into Pierz to bring the deposit to the bank, then a visit to the big Phillips convenience store. After a quick Griffy’s pit stop, we’re on a Sam’s Club supply run, in Saint Cloud. 

That Pierz Phillips is now a Marathon. I don’t remember why we went there. I think it was because Carl was recommending the bacon cheeseburgers at the small snack bar. He may have also been there to meet with the owner about something. I failed to mention it in my notes that day. We wandered around the store for a few minutes while our orders were being cooked. 

My wandering took me to a rack of leather Nascar jackets. Admired the shameless marketing involved. Each jacket had between 15 and 30 corporate logo patches sewn all over the chest, back and sleeves. The privilege of being a walking billboard for all these billion dollar corporations, only costs $300! I wouldn’t wear one if you paid me $300, but I guess my price tag is higher than some.

However, their bacon cheeseburger was pretty good. Carl was right, it was worth the wait. 

As we crossed Highway 10 in St. Cloud, Carl wanted to hit the Burger King Drive Thru. Even though we just ate at Phillips, less than an hour ago. Again, I don’t remember what it was, but he going for something specific. “Dood! It was Meatnormous!” No, it wasn’t Meatnormous… We drove thru here a couple of times on the Genola visits. So I was kind of sad to see it closed in 2018. Not that I wanted to eat there, but it had some significance. A couple years ago, I wrote this story about the St. Cloud Burger King.

Sam’s Club was every bit the retail nightmare I’d predicted. Granted it’s far less trashy than any standard WalMarts, but the evil is compounded given the bulk. One of the items on our bar related grocery list, being 25 pounds of deli ham for Griffy’s Sunday Bingo Sammiches. (The Bingo Lunch Special was ham, roast beef or sloppy joes, depending on which week it was, and chips, all for the amazing low price of $2.50!)  Carl told me not to mention we were from a business, or Sam’s Club will charge to have it sliced. He said it had to do with restaurant codes or something. 

Waiting for Sam’s The Butcher to slice and wrap the ham, I found great amusement in a giant sandwich ring in a nearby cooler. Looked like a toilet seat that you would want to sit on. Brief debate, because it looked tasty, but was $25. So Carl and I would not be eating toilet seat sammich for dinner, later tonight. 

Maraschino Cherries proved to be the most difficult on the list, to locate. Three different Sam’s Club employees told us three different sections of the store to look in. Even after I wandered into the clearly unmarked employee-only-customer-out-of-bounds-area by mistake. That guy couldn’t tell me the proper location of the cherry. Finally we found the only employee capable of solving the most difficult of a question. Jars of Maraschino Cherries were in the aisle she was stocking. About 15 feet to her left. We picked up a jar, hit the checkout and back to Genola. 

Driving back from Saint Cloud, Carl dropped me off at the farmhouse, on his way back to Griffy’s. Bill wasn’t there as he was tending bar, while Carl and I were running errands. I was going to gather my stuff, load the car and hang at Griffy’s until I drove home. Planned on a Car Break in the driveway before hitting Griffy’s, but horse people were tending to the horses at the barns. Carl said they rent everything but the farmhouse he and Bill are staying in. 

When I put the Griffy’s issue of Wasted Quarter together, I didn’t have an image of the farmhouse to use. Serving as a stand-in, was this picture I found. The name of the image was “Freedom Mounting.tiff .” None of this was taking place while I was at the farmhouse.

******

Several vehicles from the electric company were parked in Griffy’s back lot, when I pulled in. In plain view of my car, so I didn’t linger for too long, before going inside. They were replacing some lines behind the bar and down the street. The power went out the last time I was up here too. Now I was hoping every time I visited Carl in Genola, the power would go out. Seemed like it would be a pretty funny running joke. 

Carl was sitting at the bar, in near-total darkness. The place was empty besides us and Bill, who was leaning behind the bar. One of the vendors had dropped off an order for Griffy’s, down the street at the Red Rooster bar, while we were away in St. Cloud. Didn’t know why this was the case, but whatever. Carl and I walked down the street to the Rooster, leaving Bill behind, to serve all zero customers this afternoon. After he got his boxes of bar stuff and set them on a table I was sitting at, he decided to hang out for a few until the power came back on. Even though the electricity was out at the Rooster as well. I ordered a Coke with no Jack. Driving home later tonight, didn’t want to start down that path. Electricity had come back on just before we left the Rooster. Carl and I each carrying boxes of beer, cigarettes and nuts back to Griffy’s. He offered to get the van, but I saw no need since it was a block away.

With lights and other modern amenities restored, Carl was playing with the MP3 jukebox by the dance floor. When I was up here in September, he had me select a few songs for the jukebox to download into its library. I figured Genola needed some Ween and Mr. Bungle, as my little personal contribution to the bar. (Well, I never got a chance to leave my trademark “Read WQ” graffiti anywhere inside.) Just because I wanted to experience this song in a bar, Carl played None of Them Knew They Were Robots for me. No customers were in the building, I know Bill loved it…

Guarantee this song was only played once inside Griffy’s…

Carl let me fill out his florescent wipe board, listing upcoming live acts playing Griffy’s in November. I added a little creative flair (per Carl’s request) with cheesy musical notes and lame guitar sketches, along the edges. Just hung it back on the wall. That loud bragging guy from last night is here again. Tonight he’s going on about how he wishes that he was a computer geek: “I’d love to learn somethin‘ bout that internet thing...” Now a friend of loud bragging guy has come in, sitting down next to him at the bar, drinking a bottle of Bud Light. I’m sure a loud ignorant conversation is about to start soon. Hi Kevin! 

Another couple is seated at one of the large round tables behind me, eating cheeseburgers Carl made. More people are entering, and sitting too close to me for comfort. I need a people free zone around me at all times. Good, they moved. My angry get away from me vibes worked. Think I need to take a productive car break pretty soon. Perhaps I should bolt for a few?

Post another car break... There’s something to be said for kicking back the seat back and staring through the sunroof. The sun was going down, but it had been covered by thick dark clouds all day. I’ve never been a huge fan of Minnesota, but I have a soft spot for late fall. The air is cool, damp and usually cloudy and grey. It does set a mood. Each year it seems to last longer and longer, before becoming frozen and white. 

I wrote that in 2005. Nearly 20 years later, fall/winter has changed noticeably. Still typically cold and grey, but a whole lot dryer. We have done a lot of damage to the climate during my lifetime. 

Guess I’ll have to think about heading home in a bit. For now, more writing… Trying to focus my eyes on the notebook after looking at the TV, in a fairly dark bar, is really hard. I have to stare directly at the paper or the dim light distorts the page too much for me to see anything other than blur. Once I looked at this page in decent light, I was surprised to see how imperfect my lines actually are. 

Just thought I lost a $20 bill, but it fell on the floor to my left. Losing that really would have sucked. Carl deep fried some chicken fingers for me, which are pretty damn tasty. He made himself some nachos. And I still have that Charleston Chew in the backpack from Spillihp the other day. So I’ve put together a very delicious dinner.

That loud bragging guy from earlier, is back. Now sitting at a table with some of his different friends. Talking tough, as if he has something to prove to the friends he’s with. Someone fancies himself an alpha… 

I was just alerted to an upcoming demonstration. Carl just gave me a “Cherry Bomb.” A Maraschino cherry (from Sam’s Club earlier in the day) soaked in Bacardi 151. Good, but a bit strong. “Dood, you can light it on fire!” As I was just shown. He sold a couple after his little display on the counter in front of me. Not sure if they were eaten or set ablaze though. As I went back to writing, I kept picturing sudden screaming and chaos as someone’s cherry bomb ignited a stack of napkins. That didn’t happen.

Thinking I should hit the road pretty soon. It’s 11pm now. The roads back to Minneapolis should be pretty empty now. I wonder how many miles of continuous pen stroke I’ve written in the last few pages up here. My pen needs an odometer. Well, up next on Comedy Central is the terribly unfunny Wanda Sykes failed vehicle, Wanda Does It. Where she learns how to do someone’s job, and makes lame wisecracks while doing it. That means I have to leave now. Something about Wanda Sykes that makes leaving the room feel so much better. 

As I’m gathering stuff and preparing myself for the drive, I start hearing comments from another guy amazed at my small writing. He’s taken a position of standing directly over me. Now I’ve got the loudest drunkest guy in the bar commenting on my writing, at me. Yeah, it is definitely time to leave. He is very intense, and I am growing fearful of getting my ass kicked for showing creativity. 

But wait! He has a soft side! He said that he writes a lot too. And has an IQ of 147. Somehow I was doubting that... But okay, go on with your bad self. He asked me if I would be willing to take an IQ test because he knew I was a genius or something. No, I am not a genius. I work in a gas station and write small. You are very drunk and loud and embarrassing the shit out of me. This particular brutalization lasted for a very uncomfortable two commercial break period of Wanda Does It. With no personal watch nor accurate clock around, commercial breaks are about the only stopwatch available in bars. 

I kept trying to deflect his intense drunken angry compliments, but he was very Adam Ant about me taking an IQ test with him the whole time we (he) talked. Sure, we’ll do that next time I dropped by Griffy’s. It would likely be a month or so before I’d be back in Genola. Like this drunk guy is going to remember someone like me... 

As strange as this whole situation was. He kept pumping me up as he was scaring the shit out of me. Some things he said really stuck with me. “The fact that you write so small and so often, you have to be very intelligent to do that. Don’t sell yourself short!” That tended to pop into my head when I was really getting fed up with the life Minnesota was giving me. Almost finding inspiration in it, in some weird way. Funny where you sometimes find the advice that sticks...

******

After I got home and reflected on my latest day in Genola, I decided that one day wasn’t enough. I needed to plan out my trips to Genola in advance. Try to angle for two consecutive days off from the Spillihp, to spend them up here. Quality hanging and writing, plus maximizing my time away from Crapids. You couldn’t go wrong with Griffy’s!

I finally cleaned the fully wrapped, uneaten Hershey’s Smart Zone Controlled Release Nutrition Lemon Bar out from under the passenger seat of my car, in May of 2005. In Denver. Stuff gets lost in my car all the time. Buried under trash, then shoved under a seat and forgotten about. Once thought I lost the Magic 420 Wand, while staying up in Genola. Went missing for almost 48 hours after I returned. But was simply buried in car trash when I looked there. 

I was very worried about it. That was the longest period of time it had been lost in nearly five years of daily use. The 420 engraved circle is an ear tag from a sheep. Back in the summer of 2000, I used to work with a stripper (film, not titty bar) who also raised sheep on her farm. Without knowing what it looked like, I asked her for an ear tag that I could wear as an earring. It was far too large, so I attached it to the paper clip used for pipe cleaning.

The Magic 420 wand was retired from active duty in May 2018.

And yes, it has been the same paper clip all that time.

******

Let’s all go to the basement! Let’s all go to the basement! Let’s all go to the basement!

And get cobwebs in our face!

Carl had given the full bar tour to myself, Jen and Trav, when we came up in June. But it had to be replicated when I had my camera along. With all needed equipment ready, Carl and I went downstairs into the nice old creepy cobwebbed Griffy’s basement. 

One of the main uses of the basement was for an indoor archery league, that would run from January through April. Carl said Griffy’s sponsored about 17 teams of 2, that competed in the league. He told me this was also used as a gun range until the early 1980's. Yeah… That sounds like a good idea…

Currently in the middle of the room was a long table with chairs. Carl told me why it was set up this way, but I forgot why that is. I’m going to go with a meeting of sorts. You can make up your own attendees, for fun! Obviously, this would be removed for archery shootouts. 

When we were here in June, there was a large pile of pop cans on the floor. It was confined to that gray barrel in the middle of the floor. Carl said there’s a hole in the floor above, to toss empty cans into the basement. That part makes sense, but you’d eventually have to carry them back upstairs, just to get them out of the building. Instant convenience, but kind of a pain in the ass later on. 

Miller Light, and Miller Genuine Draft beer are the “Proud Sponsors of the Genola Arrow Splitters.” Archers would stand at the far end of that room, to take aim at targets, placed on this shelf. Those would be “#1 Eternity Targets by Morrell Manufacturing.” People are shooting at.

So who is #2?

Behind the archery target wall was another high ceiling room. Shelves housing stacks of archery targets,  24” cubed, line the wall. Other shelves had old liquor bottles on them.

My stupid camera couldn’t take a decent non-blurry picture of the labels. Some of them dated back to the 1920’s, but I couldn’t take a picture to prove that. Wish the digital camera capabilities of our cell phones existed back then. Having to rely on a 35mm camera, that I already knew wouldn’t work, to take pictures that I’d intended to print, was unfortunate. I couldn’t take near the amount of pictures I wanted. And I wouldn’t know until well after the moment, if I got exactly what I needed.

Around the opposite corner (by the pop can pile and long narrow table) was some pictures of exceptional archers and a couple of split arrows. Meaning one arrow was fired entirely inside of another. That’s one hell of a shot. Facing film limitations and knowing it wouldn’t turn out anyways, I didn’t even try to take a picture of it.

Behind that wall was a small area that I called “My Room.” As in, if I was to ever start squatting at Griffy’s, this would be the room I’d stay in. The walls were not complete, and partially removed. Carl said it was used as the bar’s office, before the one upstairs was built. The door on the opposite side, which had been taken down, along with some fake wood paneling, led to the furnace room. 

If you keep walking through where there should have been walls, you’d enter the old vault room. Now just a storage room, it used to have a coal chute to bring fuel in for the old heating system. Carl said it was walled over in 1982, when the City of Genola connected to the natural gas line. But only for the four businesses in town. (Guessing he meant this building, the Rooster and Corner Cafe, and the store that would be demolished in June, 2004.

And that concluded the tour of Griffy’s basement. Circa September, 2004.

******

December 7, 2004, 8:06pm

Time is moving far too slow tonight. Gas is all the way down to $1.69 a gallon, so we’re extra busy. I must remember to fill up before setting out for Genola, later tonight. In a phone call placed moments ago, Carl said to go directly to the farmhouse, as he’s closing Griffy’s early tonight. He has to open the bar in the morning. He’ll be off at 2pm, so we’ll have the rest of the day to hang. 

For now, It needs to be 11pm and not 8:30pm. That does me no good. Maybe I should just close the gas station early, so I can get up there sooner? Nope, I’d better be a good responsible pump jockey and not close early. Well, good thing that I didn’t. Super talkative Lio Htak delivery tanker got all chatty, during a last minute gasoline deposit. Delaying my store closing duties by twenty minutes. Ended up being closer to 11:30 before I got on the road. 

Given recent snowfall, the roads weren’t as bad as I’d anticipated. And I saw no deer this time. I was expecting far worse. The first ten miles of County Road 21 were kind of sketchy. Surface looked shiny and ice coated, but I could still brake easily and my tires didn’t skid or fishtail. With no traffic around, I could take it slow. Probably my own paranoia more than anything.

Sizza & Poup

I pulled into the farmhouse and hung out with Bill and Carl in the living room for a few minutes. Carl went to bed, shortly after I arrived, Bill continued drinking and flipped the channel to Crime Drama. I moved to the spare bedroom, and set up camp. I’d planned on writing for a couple hours before going to sleep. I started writing this at 2:13 in the morning. 

The farmhouse gives off very weird vibe. It has the appearance of a bachelor pad for the very poor, with its “odds and ends” decor and sparse furnishings. Staying here has a subtle creepy and unnerving feel to it. Like something terrible has either happened here once, or is about to… I almost envision a murder taking place. Tonight. Including me. 

Well, he was mad at Carl for throwing a pile of clothes on the floor… And that “gay” Kids in the Hall sketch did not go over well in his presence. Not too mention all of the Crime Drama he watches has likely given him a myriad of ideas. So this might be the last thing I write before tonight’s double murder. Or double murder/suicide. Pick your poison, I guess. At that point, it wont matter to me. 

Wonder what they’ll say about me in eulogy? Or on the news?

Time for a cigarette. Sure feels nice to sit in bed and write while enjoying some burning tobacco. Don’t think I’ve smoked in bed since Genola. Not too mention the bowl going next to me… Now, I have done that since. Pillow helps writing angle tremendously. So did opening the window and changing my position on the bed. By request, Carl is going to wake me in the morning when he leaves to open the bar. I wish his roommate and/or potential killer would keep it down in the next room. How am I supposed to write and then sleep, with all that noise? Doesn’t sound like Mama’s Family this time. It also doesn’t sound like he’s sharpening an axe either. So that’s a good thing.

Say Carl, What’s the deal with this guy?

“Living with Bill was constant fighting, and his confusion about where he was and what was going on. The guy drank half a litre of Windsor before 10am. Every time he worked on the garden, he had a bottle of Windsor, cooler of ice, and a two liter of RC Cola near by. Once he scared the bejeezuz out of my sister by throwing a cable remote at her head and going nuts on her, too.”

******

Around 9:30 in the morning, I was awoken by a departing Carl. Took me a while to put it together in regards to my location, mindset and belongings, then a bit longer to get myself going. Thinking that Carl was going to be busy getting the bar ready for the day, I wasn’t in any particular hurry. I drove to the B.P. and bought a newspaper and a couple Lotto tickets, before hitting Griffy’s. Upon entering, Carl put on a pot of coffee (which was kind of terrible, watery and almost greasy in taste), no big deal, so I sat down to read. 

Yesterday was the arbitration deadline for Major League Baseball. Teams either had to offer salary arbitration to eligible players, or they would become free agents. A lot of players would be cut loose the night before, producing a great deal of baseball news. Which is pretty rare for mid-December. 

I had wanted to read about such events, but was disappointed in the out-state editions of the Minneapolis Star Tribune. These newspapers are printed much earlier than the local editions. News in the paper was sparse, not even including the contract signings the Twins reported on the radio, while driving up the night before. A few minutes later, I was able to catch up on what happened by jotting down key notes from the ESPN News crawl I saw on the TV. Found it pretty sad that I had to rely on ESPN for current baseball news. That’s not what ESPN has been known for, since at least 1990…

Not sure where Carl is now. All I’ve seen of him for the last hour was in five to ten second pieces, as he walked by where I was sitting. Once he was caught up on bar stuff, I beat him in a game of pool. Which was held over for several delays. Phone call or two, a brief visit from Lisa (the morning bartender, who was off that day) and Robin, the Budweiser beer rep. Other than those instances, there wasn’t a customer to be seen. Wednesday’s are slow here, Carl said. 

Down the street, the Red Rooster bar has an All-You-Can-Eat Ring Bologna special, every Wednesday at lunchtime. Meaning Griffy’s had no lunch rush to speak of on Wednesdays. Though a couple of people just walked in and are now playing darts. Music has switched from basic standard pop, to basic standard country. Basic standard country is sounding more and more like basic standard pop, than country…

Carl told me that a drunk guy drove it through a wall of the bar, a half mile south of here, last night. Since I was planning on going outside and getting my bottle of Mountain Dew from the car, I drove to down it and snapped a picture of the now boarded up hole. 

Here’s Carl with some more details on the Truck Drove Into The Bar Bar (which is it's name by the way). 

“That bar was the Triple Play, Sandy came about 5 seconds from getting killed in that one. She had just finished setting up the salad bar against the wall, forgot something, and left to go get it. Next thing you know, a new drive thru lane and a 50 piece twisted steel salad bar, with cracked sneeze guard all over the place. They even burned up the carpet trying to burn out of there before anyone could see. But the car was hung on the foundation. Somehow, no one got a DUI out of it.”

Carl tells me that his shift is over in two hours, then he needs to drive in to the big city (Little Falls), to pick up some things. I’ll absolutely tag along for that. Some more people have come in, so we’re now up to a total of six customers in the bar. Business is sure booming this afternoon. They teased a food purchase before settling on a fistful of pull tabs instead. However, Carl did just cook some burgers for the dart guys over on the other side. Food is sounding pretty good right now. We should probably look into that in Little Falls later. 

Sadly, I am finding no inspiration for writing today. Sat at the bar and tried off and on since I came in, but nothing was coming to me. Much of the day was spent helping Carl do assorted small bar tasks and staring blankly. Which was also fun. 

Today would have been the perfect day for working on a Wasted Quarter story. I’d been attempting to get a new issue started, but -again- chosen subject matter just wasn’t clicking with me. (And was ultimately scrapped.) There would be no first drafts written today. The same can be said for notes on this particular vacation. Looking for something to fire me up creatively, I tuned back in to what the jukebox was spewing forth. Why, it’s Tim McGraw! And he’s telling me to live like I was dying. But, isn’t that what we’re all doing?

When Bill arrived to work the evening shift, a little after two this afternoon, Carl and I left to do some bar related chores. 

First was dropping off the bank deposit at Farmers and Merchants. Then a bit further up the street for a stop at SuperValue in Pierz, to pick up buns for bingo sandwiches, and sour cream for Tasty Taco Night, later this evening. We dropped the groceries off at Griffy’s, then off to Little Falls to pick up an order from a liquor store. Last stop being the Little Falls WalMarts for some hanging supplies. A 12 pack of Mountain Doctor, a bag of not-Doritos (not Tom’s Butthole Crisps either) and a bag of Oreos. Regular, not Double Stuff. We’re not savages…

While inside the WalMarts, I had to check… Just in case Butt Out pays off today. Nope. The Little Falls WalMarts  is all sold out of Sony PS2 systems. Guess we’re too close to X-Mess to expect a heavy stock of that high demand item. Especially up here, where stock is already limited. 

On the way back from Little Falls, Carl noticed the speedometer of the Blueberry Honksicle was about to hit 66,666 miles. I thought of snapping a picture of that when it happened, but traffic was too heavy on Highway 27, to slow down to try and get the picture taken. Luckily, a handy gravel road turnoff, saved this photo op from passing me by. I drove an eighth mile down this narrow one lane road and got my picture of 66,666.6. While going a much safer 25mph. 

Now if only the picture had turned out…

After I moved back to Colorado, Super A’s Fan Rob’s son Erik asked me if he could have the little plastic SpongeBob Square Pants (that blurry yellow blob in the picture, which came from a Cub Foods vending machine) figure that used to ride on my dashboard. I’d gotten it from the same Cub Foods vending machines that allowed my notebook to declare that it depends on Jesus. Felt kind of bad when I told him he couldn’t, because SpongeBob had to help me drive. I think Erik was about five then. Probably should have let him have it, since I lost the little SpongeBob not too long after. Erik is now a college graduate and married, which makes me stunned at how much time has passed. And how quickly it has gone.

We dropped off the bottles of alcohol we picked up in Little Falls, at Griffy’s. While inside, Carl grabbed a frozen Carbone’s pizza to bring to the farmhouse for food. After cooking it up, we ate and smoked to mid-afternoon Comedy Central, which wasn’t very good back then. About a half hour later, Carl went upstairs for a nap. I took the opportunity to do the same. Moving from my imported kitchen table chair, to stretching out on the couch. Flipping through the many unappealing options provided by Direct TV, the program I found most appealing? The History of Toilets on the History Channel.

Even though it was fascinating, a commercial break put me to sleep.

******

Carl woke up a bit after 7pm. After a breakfast cigarette and bowl puff, we drove five or so miles northeast, to the town of Lastrup, MN. Weighing in with a whopping 20 more citizens than Genola. However, Herold’s mere existence was destroying the local ratio by only having two bars. Where do the other 20 people drink? Or are the two bars in Lastrup just that much more successful than the Rooster and the Griffy’s? Griffy’s sponsored pool team playing at Herold’s tonight, so Carl wanted to show up for moral support. The good guys won the game, but I wasn’t paying much attention because of various distractions. Both female and shiny objects. Plus I didn’t have anything on me to take notes.

We didn’t stay very long at Herold’s, before going back to the farmhouse to watch the new South Park and Drawn Together episodes. Plus, it was another chance to smoke. The good part of TV ended at 10pm, and Carl wanted to go up to the bar and see what was going on. He said that we weren’t going to stay long, so I didn’t bring my notebook with. 

Carl wandered around the bar and settled in to chat with a group of people playing pool. The winning team has now returned from Herold’s in Lastrup, after their victory earlier that night. I stood back in the shadows away from the chaos, leaning against the bar with my drink. Trying to look inconspicuous, I’m again shocked to find myself spotted…

Loud IQ Guy is here tonight. And… Oh shit, he remembers me... Comes up to me yelling, all drunken intense and in my face about my dedication to small writing and a potential high IQ. He really wanted me to meet his friends right now! Oh, that’s so unnecessary, we don’t need to do that all…

“It’ll just take a second, I want you to meet my friends! Hey guys meet this guy! This guy is really smart! And he writes really small!”

Flashing them my winning quarter-smile couldn’t make them give two shits about me. Nor should it. With an introduction like that, why would they? I quickly broke free from that horrifying situation, when he got distracted by arguing with another group of people in the bar. Being all intense in their faces about who knows what… For me, I felt less intimidated because he was very complimentitive of me. Even though he was screaming those compliments angrily about six inches from my face. 

Significant part of the draw of Griffy’s, was watching the regulars I’d started to recognize from going up there. Of all the people I met in Genola, Jack was probably the most fun to observe in action. Just as long as I wasn’t the focus of his attention. Always loud and intense, always drunk and very confrontational. Later, I asked Carl about this guy, since I was always running into him at the bar, and he was just so ridiculous each time:

“Jack loved to drink Gin. He made a bar payment in a week once from just his bar tab. Wanted me to make him the manager, said he could make us millionaires in 6 months. Wasn't worth him scaring away customers though. Did have some great info about the bar’s past I did not know.” 

“Every night I saw him, he was starting a fight with a group of people. I never saw one come to blows, but a lot of situations that needed outside intervention, before they’d diffuse when Jack would wander into a new conversation. Whenever he was there, Griffy’s was turned up a notch on the rowdiness scale. It definitely had a different feel. Almost as if Jack was going to make sure he was 100% responsible for that.”

Any good Griffy’s bar fight stories, Carl?

“Before we took the bar over, I was shown blood spots on the ceiling from men and women breaking their glass beer bottles, in the old wild west saloon fashion, and cutting the shit out of each other.”

“A lady once was really upset, and starting hitting Jody (a Griffy’s bartender). Randy, Bill and Brett (other Griffy’s bartenders) tried to restrain her, and she started screaming "Rape!" Then all 300 pounds of her then tipped over and fell on poor Bill.”

“I once broke up an affair fight, where the guy who stole the other guys girlfriend, jumped on top of his car. Caused $1800 in damage.”

Hmmm… The blood splatters on the ceiling is pretty cool, I was expecting something more “Florida” to bar fights in Genola…

We didn’t end up staying at Griffy’s very long. Just enough time for Carl to deep fry us some appetizers, then drive back to farmhouse, to veg out to Wednesday night Comedy Central. No need to stay at the bar, when we have a twelve pack of Mountain Doctor, Tracy’s garage and a styrofoam to-go box filled with mini-tacos, chicken fries, onion rings and mozzarella sticks, to serve us well for the rest of the night.

Until Drunky came home and ruined it for us however... 

At 2am, Bill returned from the bar and cut a massive heel promo on Carl and I, upon entering the living room. Started off mildly enough, complaining that it was too cold in here. I made the mistake of saying that it felt comfortable to me. 

“Yeah, and you’re wearing a hat and a coat!” 

Shirt dude, nothing coat-like about this shirt.

My jacket is in the spare bedroom, with the rest of my stuff.

Immediately, I’m hit with a lengthy tirade about how I am disrespecting him by wearing my hat in his house, and how I have no class for committing such a crime. 

Dude, it’s not 1840 anymore. Caring about such an irrelevant thing is beyond stupid. Isn’t Carl wearing a hat right now? Is he disrespecting his own house? 

Knowing the drunken rage this guy was going on, I bit my tongue when he asked me if I would wear a hat in church. My response was kept to a small laugh at that very idea. Not an issue as far as I’m concerned. Never will be.

By the way, when was the last time you were in a church, you hypocrite…

His tirade then turned to what Carl and I were watching on the television. Immediately deciding TV Funhouse was the worst thing on the planet at that moment. 

But it’s the Hawaii Day episode Bill! It’s one of my favorites!

Just as Doug was cutting the 50th star out of the American flag, to make his own Hawaii flag, Bill screams at us: “You would have to be on drugs or really stupid to watch something like this!” 

I started to defend myself, but Carl quickly ushered me out of the room, probably for the best. We left Bill alone to pass out in a whiskey haze, slumped in front of CSI:Oklahoma City. There is nothing worse than a broken down old drunk on his high horse.

Hey Bill… Just in the off-chance that you’re still alive, and see this some day… Fuck you.

Back in the bedroom, I smoked a bowl and a couple cigarettes while writing a page in the notebook before falling asleep. Today was rather busy, and I had notes to record, since I didn’t get much of chance to do that during the day. Once again, I heard Mama’s Family on the living room TV.

Yeah, that is far more intelligent comedy than Robert Smigel’s prematurely cancelled show.

Carl woke me at 10 in the morning, he was heading up to Griffy’s. I would be following behind shortly, once I gathered my stuff and loaded the car. I ran into Bill in the kitchen. He was loudly griping about aluminum can recycling. I said nothing to him besides “yes” when he asked if I was going home that day.

The sky was especially dark this morning, and we were definitely going to see some snow. How much and when, being the only relevant question. “Can I make it home?” being another. I really would like to stay until later in the evening, but I have to be back to clean the car washes at both the Northdale and Round Lake gas stations tonight. Looks kind of misty outside, but not too bad yet. I know how Minnesota drivers tend to be, even though we should be used to it by now. 

An exterminator was doing his thing when I walked into Griffy’s. The opening bartender found a mouse, freaked and called on it. Deciding to give it just one more shot, I bought one more Butt-Out pull tab, and won nothing. Certainly a total far short of what I needed to win, in order to buy a Sony PS2 on the drive home today.

From the sounds of what Carl and Randy are talking about, last night must have been pretty eventful at Griffy’s. Carl is now trying to track down a guy who was starting fights and bounced a check. Not the first time his checks have bounced at Griffy’s. The guy in question is now officially 86’d from Griffy’s, Carl said. He was grabbing women one night, and last night was making threats to Carl when we came in. I didn’t see or hear it, so I’m not too sure what it was about. 

So Carl, what gets you officially 86'd from Griffy's? 

“It's pretty tough, as everyone knows everyone up here. We only 86'd Jack for fighting twice. Otherwise, a one night throw out was common for fighting or causing a negative scene. Not much more than that was required.”

Going outside for a quick car break, the snow was picking up in intensity. Even though it was one in the afternoon, I thought that I better hit the road pretty soon. Which meant I would be coming into Crapids right as rush hour combined with a major snowfall. This was not going to be a fun drive home.

Coming back inside, I was going to jot a few more things down in my notebook. Randy and another customer are flipping through Wasted Quarter 56 in front of me. I give the usual answers to the usual questions, as they are astounded by my small writing. Free compliments, never minded that. As long as they’re not screamed in my face.

After eating some Carl-made Chicken Fingers, I decided that I should get going. The drive was bound to suck. And it did. One slow, icy drive down deadly highway 10. I pulled into the folks house about 5:30 that night. After eating dinner with them, I had a good stream on two separate occasions, in two separate locations.

******

Hmmm…. Let’s see… I got a Zippo, a cigarette and a tampon. Then a pipe, a matchstick and a cigar. Pack of smokes, Yet-Haw! Frosty Mug and an ashtray…. That means I win NOTHING!

September 23, 2004

Someone just won $100 on pull-tabs. He’d been playing for quite a while, pull-tabs at $1 a piece, for $20 a shot. I watched him rack up a sadly impressive total rather quickly. When all was said and done, I’m doubtful he came out ahead on this investment. He was the only one buying pull tabs so more power to you. 

Later, Carl explained that customers followed an unwritten rule regarding gambling etiquette. When someone was “in the box”, no one else would play it. Legally, you can't stop anyone from buying a pull tab, even if another guy has $500 in… “There were some fist fights over this one, and other bars had their pull-tab license suspended for 90 days, for holding boxes. It's a tough part of the business, but it could make the bar payment some months.”

December 9, 2004

I had resisted it for a long time. I heard the testimonials from friends. I saw the TV commercials. I read the reviews. Suddenly I felt like I had to be part of the crowd. I had to buy a Sony Playstation 2. While Carl was totaling up the pull tabs, I stated my desire to win enough money on one to buy a PS2, before I went home. 

A new pull tab game arrived, named ”Butt Out!” to rally against the rising anti-indoor smoking movement. While he was loading the tickets into the box, I was looking at the accompanying paperwork. I was shocked at the overall odds. For this particular game, there are a grand total of 75 winning pull-tabs, hidden amongst the 3200 pull-tabs in the box. That’s some downright obscene odds for a dollar. After reading that, I decided not to pin my desire to own a PS2 on winning at pull-tabs. I’ll have to save my money and buy it the old fashioned way. 

Here’s Carl with some more on the charitable Pull Tab and Bingo programs at Griffy’s...

“Griffy’s charity sponsor for pull tabs and bingo is the Harding-Lastrup Snowdusters. They help maintain over 150 miles of snowmobile and 4-wheel trails in Morrison County. Including the Soo Line Trail, running in front of the bar. One rule of thumb... If Bill was at the pull tabs, we where way over or way short. Otherwise, we would type into the Scale-O-Matic how much the container and one pull tab weighs, and it would give us the the ticket count. Any shortages where the responsibility of the bar, yet the charity got the overages. Figure that one out... The worst shortage was when someone paid a $200 winner twice, not realizing it had already been paid.”

“For Bingo, you must call bingo on last number called, and smoke at least one pack of cigarettes during the 20 game set. Spitting on the floor is okay, spitting into the old lady's beer sitting next to you is not. Must talk as loud as you can, so the old ladies get pissed off that they can't hear the numbers. Employees must kiss anyone's ass who is above 70, because they will bitch, but they won't spend 10 cents in the bar.” 

******

The next night, I took a break during my shift at the 99 Spillihp, drove to EB Games in Riverdale, Crapids, and bought that PS2. Thanks to that afternoon’s paycheck coming in with more than I was expecting, and a cash advance on an X-mess gift from the folks, I had the most recent object of my affection.

And Butt Out! Had nothing to say about it.

How to Make Yourself Feel a Whole Lot Better....

Grand Theft Auto: Vice City worked okay at first. My world to explore was rather small, since I had neither the patience nor the skill required to unlock the rest of the city. Still, I spent many hours randomly killing people without consequence. Stealing cars then purposely crashing them into buildings and other cars until they exploded. Anything else I could think of to do, or that I daydream of doing in real life, can be done here. While getting away with it all because I know the cheat code that makes the police not care. 

Mr. Plow bought a PS2 shortly after X-mess. But he also bought Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas. I had gone with Vice City because used copies were only $12. New copies of San Andreas were $50, and used were not much cheaper, if you could find them. I didn’t need to spend that much of my meager gas station earnings on video games. I’m not 13 anymore, despite doing my best to be just that. 

After moving back to Denver, I borrowed a copy of San Andreas, from my roommate. He never asked for it back, and I never returned it. A month later, a co-worker saved his game to my memory card. He had unlocked everything, so I could now use the entire map for my random fits of lawless anarchy.

Or you could just go to the Cluckin’ Bell, and eat a few giant burgers that are larger than your head.

That’s why the Grand Theft Auto series has appeal to me. You don’t have to play the game. You can do anything you want. There are no rules. If you want to kill everybody you see with an Uzi, go ahead and do it. There is a limitless amount of people wandering around, just waiting to be chainsawed to pieces. Eliminating all the possible negative consequences of your actions is just a quick control pad key combo away!

I had several missions I liked to take, when I play Grand Theft Auto. They had no starting or ending point, and wouldn’t get you anywhere as far as solving the game goes. But honestly, who cares about that? The fun of the game is the pointless random violence, so be creative with it! 

To wam up, steal an SUV, then beat the driver with a golf club, before you flee the scene. (Don’t forget to take his money once he’s dead!) Or find a decent place to stand facing oncoming traffic, then use your rocket launcher to blow up a passing car. From a safe distance of course, flaming shrapnel from the explosion can set you on fire! Note: This is especially fun to do on the freeway system. You can build a massive pile up with ease. Not to mention how much fun it is to watch cars slam into the pile at top speed.

Variation on this idea is to steal a a dirt bike or motorcycle, go to the highest point then you can in the game, rev your engine as fast as you can and drive off a cliff!  The best part about San Andreas is there is so much varying terrain. You can bounce yourself off rocks, splatter yourself into the side of a cliff, or fall hundreds of feet onto the freeway below. Usually you can ricochet off trees, buildings, rocks, other cars, people etc..

Experiment with different methods of terror until you find the right combo, for a maximum entertainment death spree! And none of it matters because it’s only a video game. 

And if you eat enough of the giant burgers that are larger than your head, you vomit, get nice and fat, grow some serious moobs, and all your homies laugh at you.

Super Mario Bros. could never provide this!

******

January 14, 2005

I give up... You win Minnesota... Your point is well made... 

As the year became 2005, I was getting very desperate. Lack of jobs in my field was getting me down, to the point where I’d all but given up on my fruitless job search. To earn extra money, I started working at a third gas station. Working second shift at Spillihp, then driving to Blaine to work at Oconoc for the third shift. For some reason, my gas station co-workers in Blaine, didn’t care for me at all… And I was fine with that. I’d recently been offered the assistant manager position at the gas station on Round Lake Blvd., but turned it down after debating whether I wanted to commit to gas station life even deeper than I already had.

I didn’t. 

A few days after saying no to that promotion, I checked the e-mail, and my spirits were raised tenfold. I’d sent some feelers out to Denver, and I got a bite: 

“Well, if you are ever gonna even think about coming back, this is the time! AT is alone on 3rd with L, and he needs another guy! You know how they like it when a fella likes graves... It wouldn’t hurt to call P one evening and discuss the future! Anyway, hang-in... -S”

Immediately sent AT an e-mail, since I knew he was there at the time and would likely answer it. I expressed concern over making that phone call. If this ended up being a false alarm, the last thing my head needs at this time is to get all excited and have it yanked away from me. He replied in less than 20 minutes:

“You could pretty much count on having a job here. We've gone through 3 other night shift people that all quit because of the hours. We don't need to keep training people only to have them quit. P has already talked to M, he's fine with it as far as I know. Anyway, I know you could get a commitment before you dragged your ass out here. And I'm sure you could get a few bucks more than you were getting. I'll back that up when I'm asked. -AT”

After reading that and feeling more confident, I made the call, and told him I was interested in coming back. P said he would talk to the higher powers and get it all set up, then let me know what they can offer. 

That night after closing the Spillihp, I hung out with my Doktor, at the townhome where he rented a room from someone who didn’t own the place. With all sorts of Gummo (“Can you like, just buy this movie at a store?”) on the main level, and Danceteria in the basement. Where every night is someone’s 21st birfday. Strangely, he was home alone that night. All of the party time chaos was elsewhere, and we were able to sit at the kitchen table, drink a bunch of coffee and catch up on life. With my potential move back to Colorado a key subject. 

Figuring it would be important to document, the dictaphone was included in the event. Unfortunately, poor quality cassettes sabotaged that. Was hoping to use parts of it for the long planned (and ultimately scrapped) Big Audio Mess project, but well over half of the four and a half hours we recorded, were blank. The sound would fade in and out, for long stretches of time, with none of the tapes fully usable. 

All that was on my mind for that next 24 hours was getting my life back. Couldn’t recall ever feeling so happy. As soon as possible, I am so gone from Minnesota!

“As usual, things change around here faster than anyone can imagine. Just last week I spoke to M about you coming back and he said that was a good idea. Today when I came in, he replied to my email informing me that as of now we do not have any positions open. I don't know what changed, but I am sorry I got your hopes up and I will keep you posted if and when that changes. I hope I am contacting you again soon, try not to go crazy at the gas stations. -P”

Yup... 24 whole hours...

 

******

January 18, 2005

After several tries over the last six hours, I was finally able to get ahold of Carl. A few days previous, I told him that I wanted to come up as soon as I could, and we’d planned on the next two nights. He said that he’d been down in Minneapolis all day, meeting with the ARVEMCAR. They wanted to sell Griffy’s and buy something closer to the city. And not Little Falls. He asked if I was sure I wanted to come up. He just made the drive and said the roads were pretty terrible after today’s storm. Yes, I’m absolutely driving to Genola tonight. I have to get away from Crapids right now. I’ve got the next two days off work and I am leaving this town. Even if I die in the process. 

As soon as I closed the Spillihp at 10:55pm (I cheated), I gassed up the Blueberry Honksicle and headed home. My mom asked if I was sure that I wanted to drive up with the weather. Yes, I’m positive. Running downstairs, I grabbed a brand new Uniball Micro, along with the sleeping bag, some clothes and the other overnight necessities. Was back on the road in ten minutes. Carl’s warning was warranted. Strong winds whipped the Honksicle all over the road. I couldn’t tell if the pavement was icy or not, given the drifting snow across all lanes. 

Highway 10 was fairly okay, but Highway 169 was considerably worse the further north you drove. The wind gusted even stronger and the roads were less clear. Slowly made my way, letting all who cared to pass me. There wasn’t that much traffic, late on a Tuesday night. 

The familiar Rum River Rest Area north of Milaca was a nice stop to collect my thoughts, switch the CD from Camper Van Beethoven to Negativland, and double check my route. Done this drive a few times and I’m still never certain which turn it is, since there is no advance warning sign on 169. Next left after the rest area, that is an actual road. Easy enough... 

Just as expected, County Road 21 was much worse than 169. I took most of the first ten miles at 30mph, straight down the middle. Which was the only part of the road even remotely cleared out. Driving conditions improved greatly as I entered Morrison County, where 21 became 39. Rest of the way was calm and cool, so that eased my mind. Later that night, I wrote that I missed the zoning out part that all of the other drives had provided. This one made me too tense to relax. 

Only with a lot more snow…

I was having a bit of fun sliding the Honksicle around the on the deserted streets of Pierz and Genola. Spinning out on MeadowLark Road in front of Griffy’s, until I almost got stuck in a snowdrift. Okay, enough of that… Parked out front of Griffy’s for the first time ever. The whole back parking area was snowed in, so I wouldn’t be entering that way tonight. Left home at twenty after 11, and pulled up to Griffy’s at quarter to two. This is usually a 90 minute drive. 

Not ten paces inside, I’m greeted by Jack, immediately scaring the piss out of me, as usual. “Hey small writing guy is here! When you gonna take that IQ test with me?” He’s been a regular at every visit to Griffy’s since October. Every bar has to have it’s regulars... 

Good evening Rhonda... Stumbled up to me completely drunk, as Jack was distracted by something else and wandered off loudly. She slurred some stuff I couldn’t really understand, while hanging on my arm. The only thing I recognized her saying was the part where she asked me how long I was here. Told her a couple of days. She told me that she’d see me tomorrow, then left. 

Minutes later, Carl chased the rest of the night’s stragglers out so we could leave too. He, Bill and I talked and had a couple drinks as we closed things up at the bar, then all drove back to the farmhouse. Bill immediately claimed the TV because Crime Drama! was on at least one channel. 

Actually Bill, you’re right. This show is pretty stupid. Maybe a good 22 minutes joke. Not a two season long joke…

Carl and I retreated to the laundry room for a smoke, and the lowdown on my recent flirtation with Denver. He filled me in on his current problems with Griffy’s. I think we both felt better after venting some frustration. Once properly baked through, we watched a cigarette’s worth of television with Bill, then Carl went off to bed. I chose to hurt my eyes and break in my new Uniball Micro first. Wanted to bang out a page of notebook writing before turning off the lights.

******

Not Much and Too Much

January 19, 2005, 3:49am

Bill is going to kill us. You can see it in his eyes. One day, he’s just going to snap. He’s got nothing going for him anyway. Spending all night watching murder cases on television. Could anyone hear you scream this far from town? There is to be no Kids in the Hall, TV Funhouse, nor hats allowed in this house. What are you a fucking druggie? Do you have no respect for other people’s homes? Would you do this kind of thing in church? 

Retreating to the small bedroom I’m using offers little in the way of comforting thoughts. The stench of stale cigarettes and cat shit (even stronger than my last visit) permeate this room, just as they had all the others. You know, I’ve never seen the actual cats responsible for this odor…

Being here now means the weather cooperated and I got the thing I need most right now, away from Crapids. It’s been a rough few days and if I didn’t get away for a bit there would have been a trail of dead cuntstomers stretching from the front door to half way down Robinson Drive. 

But the smoke is almost out and it’s getting late...

Clean off the bed and commence to masturbate.

(That cute little poem is the grand sum of my original ideas for today.)

 

******

9:42am

On almost five hour’s sleep, I’m back at Griffy’s trying to wake myself up.

Carl needs to turn the TV on so we have some noise in here. Currently the only sound is the looped track off the Golden Tee 2003. Damn is it annoying… The last thing I need to hear is Dick Vitale’s cartoonish yammering about video game golf, looped every thirty seconds, when I’m less than 30 minutes into being awake.

A couple of people just came in to invade my space. There isn’t much going on here yet this morning, beyond pontification of conspiracy theories on who’s really making the money today. Tobacco industry, pharmaceuticals, alcohol and -hold the phone... Just now, marijuana has entered their debates. Kind of interesting eavesdropping on two older men discussing pot smokers. Even more surprised to hear their views do not differ greatly from mine. I wonder if we’re all coming from the same perspective here? Now, I’m not comfortable enough to ever say “Right on! I just pulled a wake and bake, less than an hour ago!”

Since the conversation subjects drifted back to assorted things I have little interest in, I dissolved my attention away to make note of the new goings on… And Star Wipe… A couple more people have come in and are playing pool. Not sure where Carl went. Last I heard, the phone was dead and he was looking for something in the office. The TV has been turned on now, but the sound still off. I paid no attention, since you can guess what was on the channel when the picture popped on. Just as Texas Hold’em is always on at least two channels, at any given point of the day, Crime Drama! is on at least three. 

Just then, Carl came out from the office and told me that he had to drive into Little Falls (not Pierz, but I don’t have a picture of us driving to the big city), to wire some money to the phone company. Luckily, Randy was there hanging out, so he watched things while Carl and I took care of that. 

Western Union service was pretty slow at whatever name that place was. How did I miss writing down the name of that place?) I wandered around looking at cheap plastic trinkets hanging from hooked displays, while Carl Western Unioned. Debated buying some food, but never got around to it. Looked through the used movies for sale in the video store, but nothing seemed interesting. 

We were back at Griffy’s in under an hour, and the phone was working when we arrived. Upon returning, Carl and I scraped and cleaned bar shoe goo off one of the wooden stands between the pool tables. Then we scraped the dance floor. When we were done, they looked pretty good. As I was half ass helping him do that, I was also exploring the bar. 

A new flyer had been taped to the wall since the last time I’d been in. Recently, a local man was paralyzed from the neck down when his ATV flipped. The flyer was announcing a benefit dinner and raffle for him, with prizes listed underneath his picture. First prize in the raffle? An ATV! This truly is a different world up here...

I supplied sound effects for Crime Drama! with the whoopee cushion for the next hour. Doing this mainly to keep Carl amused and distracted as he weighs and counts boxes of pull-tabs. Score! I found the TV remote and managed to navigate Dish Network over to Comedy Central! Was hoping for something good to watch, but only Whose Line is it Anyways?, followed by Weekend at Bernie’s, …was offered up. Carl continued to tend to bar matters while I messed around like a Ritalin deprived six year old, until Randy came back in to work his regular shift. 

We left Griffy’s around 2:30 in the afternoon. I went to the B.P. for a 12 pack of Mountain Dew and some emergency munchies. Carl went to the farmhouse to bake a Carbone’s. When I got back, I looked around the kitchen for pipe cleaning supplies. Finding nothing of use better than what my $4.20+tax roadtrip kit already contained. Ended up burning and cleaning the screen on a styrofoam breakfast croissant box. We then smoked, ate and watched Mad TV with Halle Berry. She was on Mad TV, not watching TV with Carl and I. In case you were confused by that.

After that ended, Carl went upstairs for a nap. I laid down on the futon and channel surfed. Lotsa Crime Drama! on every network… USA, TNT, TBS, Lifetime even... Bill’s other obsession, Court TV had more of the same to offer. Switched it over to the History Channel, and found a documentary on the Hoover Dam. I found it far more fascinating than bad acting with Swiss cheese scripts, but fell asleep during a commercial. Only to wake up when Bill came in from wherever he was. Probably oiling the chainsaw. 

Hoover Dam was gone, replaced by a far less interesting documentary on the US Presidents, from 1840-1860. At least Bill couldn’t yell at me for watching something stupid this time. But as soon as Bill found the remote, Crime Drama! was turned back on. Carl came downstairs, and after a breakfast cigarette, we left for Griffy’s. Checking the stove clock on the way out, it was roughly 8pm.

Griffy’s was fairly packed when we got there.

Rhonda came right over and bought me a Jack and Coke. Which I enjoyed while eating my Wednesday Night is Tasty Taco Night taco. It was pretty OK. Kind of reminded me of a taco shaped Honkass Burrito, due to its thick and hefty size. Though it sorely needed some Safeway Brand Taco Flavored seasoning. Whatever Griffy’s was using for seasoning was pretty not good. However it did make a good preface for a Jack and Coke. 

Rhonda proceeded to sit down and talk to me non-stop for 45 minutes. Stories of tedious family and laundry duties. Drastically shrinking any chance I had of getting quality writing in tonight. I decided at that point I was going to get good and drunk tonight. Alcohol tasted too good. 

That plan was put on hold however, Carl wanted to make a quick roadtrip. I briefly protested given the weather conditions, but it had stopped snowing for now, after a light snow fell all day. Hesitantly, I agreed that we’d go for a little bit, then come back here so I could drink and just hang out at Griffy’s. But drinking could wait for a few. 

We were headed back to Lastrup, Herold’s specifically. The same bar we met Griffy’s pool league team at when I was up here in December. They were again playing a road game, so we were offering in-person support. Carl bought me a Jack and Coke, and now he would like to tell you about pool:

Herold’s in July, 2009, as appeared on the Googles.

"The drinking team with a pool problem." (Wow! No one has ever thought of that line before!) "Tempers and blood alcohol levels always flared. They take their pool very seriously, including how level the tables are, any dust on the table, straight cues, etc... I found out there used to be a third pool table in the back of Griffy’s. During pool leagues, this would have helped tremendously. A lot of tournaments took place at our saloon."

Carl introduced me to the team and their assorted others. Griffy’s team easily beat Herold’s in the attractive women department. Whether player, or date of player, they were all pretty damn hot. Griffy’s pool team entourage even has a Sgt. Sweet Ass doppelganger, with strong ass competition! Her friend, the brown-eyed brunette, was made slightly uglier by the neanderthal that was hanging on her all night.

Found out earlier that tomorrow is Carl’s birfday. I didn’t know that before coming up here, but it was cool that I’m here for it. I told him after he is done with whatever he’s doing for the bar, I’d buy him dinner wherever he wanted to go. I was sitting back on my bar stool, vegging out to the 10 o’clock news. In honor of the “presidential inauguration” tomorrow, they aired some animated bumpers that looked kind of amusing. But the sound was turned off so I didn’t catch the message. 

During a brief moment of eavesdropping on the brown-eyed brunette’s conversation with Carl, it sounded almost like she was suggesting hooking me up with some chick named Stacy. Words like “quiet” and “writer” were being offered up by her. Uh… Hey, I’m available and leaving tomorrow… Carl never said anything to me about it, so I’ll assume I was hallucinating through my ears, and file that information away for later. 

A few more minutes go by, then one of Griffy’s pool team guys said he was going to his brand new truck, “Just bought Thursday!” to smoke a bowl. My notes named him Marlboro Menthols, since that’s the brand he smoked. Must have picked me up on stonedar, because I hadn’t talked to him all night, yet I was fingered as a smoker. (Gay people have gaydar... So what do stoners have? Stonedar! How else can you explain that a big time pot head can pick a fellow pot head out of a crowd, with no prior meeting?) Carl turned the offer down, but I jumped at it. I pretty much got the idea he was happy to show off his brand new truck to someone who hadn’t yet seen it. But his stuff was really good, and now I was better prepared to handle the socializing amongst the crowd inside. Not to mention the rest of the night.

Back from my impromptu smoke break, I amused myself by taking notes on the inside of a matchbook cover. I didn’t bring the notebook inside, so improvisation was needed. This was sitting on the table in front of me, and the inside was free of printing. Makes a good enough writing surface. As I was fitting the notes from the day on the tiny piece of cardboard, I became a conversation piece. Should have known that was about to happen…

One of the table bought me a drink for writing small. OK, that’s fair. One of the last things I wrote was on it was: Snowed, but not much. Drive back should be clear.

Ha! Boy would I not be right.

Lotsa pool and drunken hootin’ and hollerin’ and Griffy’s team won again. Had to have been my moral support. The last thing I wrote was: If we’re going to be here much longer, I’m getting my notebook. Which was in my backpack in the car. Just before I went out to grab it, Carl told me that we were going to leave. He wanted to be back at Griffy’s for his birfday shot of Jagermeister at midnight. The real midnight, not 12am according to the clock on the wall. 

I was worried we weren’t going to make it back safely after the treacherous 25 minute, five mile drive back from Lastrup. The winter storm I drove through to get up here the night before, was back for an encore. Brewed up between the time I left Marlboro Menthol’s brand new pickup truck, and when we left Herold’s, about a half hour later. 

The atmosphere was dumping torrents of the worst freezing rain I’ve ever seen. Falling on the windshield and freezing immediately. So thick, that the defroster did nothing to slow it down. Windshield wipers frozen in place. I pulled the car over several times to scrape the windshield, hoping for at least a couple of inch wide sight hole, to attempt to see where I was going. Nope… Whatever glass I cleared would fill back up in less than a minute. I could only see a small patch of outside while hunched over the steering wheel. 

We eventually made it back to Griffy’s, with speeds only topping 40mph once we came into Pierz. 

(No longer) Herold’s in September, 2023, as appeared on the Googles.

Heheheh... Someone wrote “sucks” under the word Griffy’s on the back door. Griffy’s was pretty full when we walked into the bar. My favorite seating location was surrounded on all sides, by people packed in fairly tight. To separate from the crowd, I picked a spot directly between the Megatouch and the beer taps. Customers tended to gather at the extensions in the middle of the bar. So I made it a point to stay away from there during busy times. 

But my current position left me in plain sight, and Rhonda picked me out within minutes after I sat down. Thanks to Marlboro Menthols, I was too high to want to get up and move. Besides, where would I go?  Rhonda was very drunk, and I could instantly tell that I wasn’t going to get any concentrated writing in tonight. She was asking far too many questions on what I was writing about, so I closed the notebook. Difficult to hide my frustration with her intrusive nosiness, but she did keep buying me drinks! As a show of gratitude, I let her keep her hand on my leg.  

Over the next few hours, she scarcely left my side. Regaling me with long rambling stories of life regret, friends she has that aren’t here tonight, family she has that aren’t here tonight, and a lengthy tirade against the deceased father she never knew. Silently resenting her husband and kids for taking what could have been an exciting life away from her before it ever started. I tried at first, but ultimately paid little attention to anything she said. My responses degenerated to nods and grunts, with the occasional smile and head tilt. She needed to vent, and I needed to get drunk. It was a mutually beneficial situation.

Rhonda said she used to write lots of poetry, and wanted me to read some her stuff. No, I don’t do that. I don’t read someone’s writing in front of them. Likely not to be too into your thing, and I’m not good at sugarcoating feedback. Listening to her drone on about her regrets and failures as she kept buying me drink after drink, was depressing the shit out of me. So I was pounding Jack and Cokes down as fast as Carl or Randy could get them to me. Must have had at least ten in the time we got back from Harold’s, until we left Griffy’s, at quarter to three. Carl was amazed. When I’m uncomfortable, and it’s readily available, I’ll drink in excess just to deal with it.

Needless to say, by the time we closed the bar, the results after a night like this are a very drunk Captain Honkass. After a bit of cleaning and socializing, we returned to the farmhouse around three in the morning. Rather than hang out with Bill, Carl and I hid in our respective rooms. I’m sure Mama’s Family SVU was coming on soon, and Bill needs his stories. Carl opens the bar in the morning, or we’d be hanging later tonight. He said that he’s not going to wake me, because I need a good amount of time to sleep off all the whiskey. But first, I need to write. Rhonda took away my planned notebook time, so I must do it now.

Started that page with: And I have no idea what time it is... Same night though... Using the matchbook cover from earlier, I expanded on those notes and added some more from the Griffy’s. This visit felt different compared to others. At times I feel like a minor celebrity when I visit Genola. From the way Carl introduces me to locals, the way they talk to me, and as different from them as I appear to them. He said I even have a nickname: “The guy who writes.” Can’t give them too many points for creativity on that one.

Satisfied with the summary of my day, I lit a cigarette that I didn’t have to bundle up and step outside for, and stared blankly for a few moments to gather my thoughts… Writing now shifted from notes of events earlier in the day, into venting frustration over recent employment related events. Looking at these sea-green walls of this tiny room, I’m imagining my new life in Denver, if I could have moved back last week.

As a starting point, I’d likely be staying in the basement of Cheryl’s house, in a room not much bigger than this. Small desk with my computer and a place to write in my notebooks. Obnoxious music playing as I write. Perhaps a stick of incense to hide the bowl I’m currently smoking? It was such an ideal situation. The timing was perfect. Why couldn’t this have worked out? This was all too depressing to write about... 

I stopped there for another cigarette. It was also the end of the page of the notebook. I chose not to write during that smoke. Instead stared blankly at the walls again. Trying hard to not think about the things that wouldn’t leave my mind. 

By the time I snuffed the Butt Out, I’d decided that it was time to call it a night. And to try and focus on the positive for a change. After all, this was the day that I wanted to escape Crapids for. Relaxing day of hanging out, writing, running some errands for the bar, quality nap, minor roadtrip, excellent surprise car break, the most terrifying five miles of my life, at least a liter or so of Jack, having that fawning-all-over-someone-unavailable thing happen AT me for a change, capped off with more writing and a good long sleep. 

Sometimes there is a bright side.

Carl came home from the bar around 1pm. I was laying semi-conscious when he talked to me at the door to my room. He said that he was going to take a nap for a couple hours. I sat up, got dressed, gathered my stuff together on the bed, smoked a cigarette, then decided to go back to sleep. Which seemed even more restful than the eight of the day. For a second time that afternoon, Carl woke me up. Now it was a little before four. Messed around in the kitchen for a few minutes, I loaded my car, then we set out for Griffy’s. 

I’m not planning on leaving Genola until late tonight, but that also depends on a nice window of decent weather so I can safely drive home. Minnesota has been extra January this year, and I’ve had my fill of treacherous driving over the last 2 days. Would love to stay and hang out longer, but I have to work tomorrow afternoon at three. Today was bitterly cold and dark. At least it was pretty dry. The car was heating up as I scraped last nights snow and ice from the windows. And there was a lot of it. No help via sun melt either. 

Carl and I drove into Pierz, to make Griffy’s bank deposit, then circled back to the bar. We’ll then wait until Bill shows up. Probably in an hour or so. 

Up the street from Griffy’s, between Genola and Pierz, there was a large abandoned house. Think it was three stories tall, and was set back from Highway 25, a couple hundred feet. At least half of the windows are missing, and the whole thing looks as if it could fall over in a stiff breeze. When I visited Genola in 2012, the house had been demolished. Looked like new homes had been built along the property, where the old house once stood. But I wasn’t entirely sure where it was. Wish I would have taken a picture back in 2004. Of course that terrible camera wouldn’t have taken a good one.

Carl didn’t have much info on the place, but he offered this up when asked.

“All I know is a guy who used to visit Bill, lived in the condemned house, without electricity or heat. Apparently the guy had a lot of money, but something was loose... He used to dumpster dive at the B.P. for expired pizzas, and put them in our fridge after baking in the sun for a few hours. About five months before I left, no one saw him again or heard from him.”

So, I’m thinking he didn’t disappear so much as he probably died curled up in the basement, frozen and poisoned by tainted Tombstone. How ironic...

Speaking of death by tainted pizza, Carl wants to go to Old Chicago in St. Cloud for his birfday dinner. We’ll depart as soon as Bill finally shows up late. Beyond that mission, I’m not sure what else is on tap for the night. He wants to hit a few bars in the area and collect free birfday drinks, so I’ll accompany him on that little voyage. Speaking of drinking, sure am glad I’m feeling no ill-effects from last night’s little binge. Also surprised my writing was pretty legible. Even more astounding is I wrote several thousand words while being that drunk.

Damat! I just had to give my notebook up for show and tell not-fun time. I fucking hate that! It’s small writing, get over it! Yeah, it might be weird to look at, but asking me to stop writing just so you can show it to your friends is beyond rude! They will inevitably read a sentence or two, of something they don’t know the context of, then either look at me with disgust for writing such vile filth, or ask me what I just wrote means. Yes, that does say “It’s almost 4:20 in Denver...” And no, I’m not wishing happy regards to any Dave that you know.

 

Carl just showed me the new expanded heart-healthy menu, he’s going to be starting up soon: 

Bacon Cheese Fries w/sour cream

Jalapeno Poppers

Chili Cheeseburger

Bacon Chili Cheeseburger

Pizza Fries

Mac n Cheese Bites

As Carl was showing me the new menu, Bill walked in. He was only 30 minutes late. I tied up the loose ends in the notebook, waiting for Carl to tell me he was ready to go. I didn’t write anything else that night, so this was the end of my vacation notes, written on location. At 5:43pm, the last thing I ever wrote in Genola, Minnesota, was:

“This is day number two without a shower. I’m starting to feel kind of gross.”

This is not the St. Cloud Old Chicago. The Old Chicago pictured here is from Blaine, MN. This was the Old Chicago that Carl frequented when he lived in this area (late 1990’s/early 2000’s). I’d been here a few times with him, when I’d visit from Colorado. Don’t know when this location closed, but I took this photo (and others) in November, 2017. The building has been completely gutted into a brick shell, with only that faint Old Chicago label scar remaining. Today, it’s a Sky Zone Trampoline Park.

I don’t have a picture of the St. Cloud Old Chicago. Quick research told me it opened in 2004, so it was pretty much new when we dropped by. Unfortunately, the St. Cloud Old Chicago permanently closed on January 7, 2020. According to the Googles, their lease was up and they chose to not renew. Guess they saw Covid coming? Old Chicago became the House of Pizza, after closing. They’re still open today.

Old Chicago is on the far West side of St. Cloud, so I got to see the college, what used to be Ass Cleaners and all the rest of the failed businesses, as we moved further from highway 10. I asked Carl if Old Chicago sold Grolsh beer, since their gimmick is having a massive beer inventory. He said they did. “Do the bottles have stones for caps?” Again, he said he thought they did. Cool, I’ve wanted a Grolsh beer stone for a few years now. 

If you know the Dave I was wishing a written happy 420 to earlier this afternoon, you’d also know why I want a Grolsh stone. 

Super smiley hostess chick seated us in the smoking section. I miss those… By a cold window, with great views of attractive young college girls at tables all around the bar. Unknown to us, St. Cloud State University was playing a hockey game tonight, so a lot of students would soon be there to watch the game on the bar TV’s. Got fairly loud at times.

Carl and I ordered food, then I walked up to the bar and asked if I could see a bottle of Grolsh beer. Which got a quizzical look from the bartender, but he pulled one out from the bottom of the cooler. “OK, no thanks..” The bottle cap on their bottle of Grolsh was made of plastic. Not ceramic like they used to be years ago. Plastic just wouldn’t cut it, so Carl didn’t even get to cross Grolsh off his most recent World Beer Tour run. 

Well, tonight at least.

After eating and growing tired of staring at hot unattainable chicks, we decided to head back to Genola. It was cheaper to drink up there. As far as the St. Cloud State hockey game that night? I didn’t remember it, but had to look… The St. Cloud State Huskies lost to the Denver Pioneers, 5-2. Not that I had much interest in the game, I found it kind of funny that as we ate, Denver was beating St. Cloud. There’s something in that… 

Say John, do you know why I like hockey?

“Because it’s all fast… And hitting… And fast hitting…”

Not long after I moved back to Colorado, I was gifted an authentic Grolsch Beer Bottle, with an intact stone.

It was given to me by Dave.

Which makes perfect sense, if you know…

Leaving St. Cloud, we drove right through Genola and into Pierz. Our first planned stop was the Brickyard Bar. Which was the previous home to the Pierz American Legion. Without knowing, I took this picture of the Brickyard in 2019. I liked the bronze awning and the sign attached to it. Which is now Frosty’s Bar and Banquet Hall. Looks like they took over the Brickyard around 2015. In 2005, the inside was all decked out in Nascar memorabilia on dark wood paneling. The bartender/owner was an arrogant dickface. I distinctly remember that. Carl said he would sometimes have hardcore porn on his satellite TV, showing on all the TV’s inside the bar. Wasn’t the case tonight, and I can’t say a part of me wasn’t disappointed.

After the Brickyard, we drove back south on County Road 25, a quarter mile past Griffy’s, to the Truck Drove Into the Bar bar. The hole had since been fixed, and you couldn’t tell anything had happened here. Formally known as Triple Play, this bar had a sports theme to it, about included a volleyball court next to the building. The building resembled a large rambler house more than a bar. From the outside it did, but inside was vast and roomy. Not what I expected from looks as I’d driven by several times. 

At some point between 2009 and 2014, the Truck Drove Into the Bar Bar was converted into the Fellowship Bible Church of Pierz. The original building is a part of it, but a massive addition was attached, wrapping around the south and east side. Definitely didn’t expect this place to become that.

It was a few minutes before midnight when we entered Griffy's. I didn’t bother bringing in my notebook, because I had to hit the road soon. Carl gave me a can of Mountain Dew, and I leaned back against the bar and surveyed. Pretty good crowd of 20-30 still here tonight. Griffy's was pretty loud, yet things seemed to feel positive. Possibly because I didn’t see Jack there tonight. 

Oh, hi Rhonda! She was pretty wasted when she saw me. Came over and got really close as she talked. I told her that I was just on my way back home. She asked when I’d be back. “I don’t know. Probably in a few weeks again.” Said goodbye to her and Carl, then drove back to Crapids, just before 1am.

I didn’t know it at the time, but this was the last time I set foot in Griffy’s.

******

March 1, 2005

Busy night at the 99 Spillihp… With surprise special guest, Crazy Carl! He told me that he’d resigned as manager of Griffy’s, and sold his ownership stake, a month earlier. He said things were getting too personal. Later, as I was writing Wasted Quarter #58, covering Griffy’s and Genola, I had Carl fill in background info for the whole story. Regarding leaving the bar and moving back to Minneapolis, he wrote: 

“The work there was very nerving at first, not being from the area and having to audition for the whole town’s acceptance. Even after I got comfortable with them, and them with me, the rumor mill still got more and more evil. Eventually, I had to fight to get out of bed and go in, but still loved the bar to death and tried my best. Leaving was one of the hardest things I ever did.“

That sucks, but I know from our conversations in January, it was probably for the best. Unfortunately, my vacation hide-a-way had been taken-a-way… I knew I would really miss going up there. That uncomfortable feeling I had constantly around the locals… His asshole drunkard roommate… That cat shit reeking farmhouse… Writing and getting high in the tiny bedroom… All sorts of Crime Drama! on the TV… Going up there every month or so, was a welcome break to this second attempt at a Crapids life…

Where am I going to go now?

The answer came just over a month later, in an email from Denver:

“Hey they asked me to contact you today to see if you still have interest in coming back to work here. Get back to me as soon as you can so I can let them know if you are up for it, and when you could be available.”

I moved back to Colorado in early May of 2005. 

It went exactly how I pictured it in the Genola farmhouse, back in January.

******

Sunday, April 28, 2019

Needing to escape Crapids for a few hours, I decided to pay a visit to Genola, to see if anything was going on at Griffy’s. Instead of the Highway 169 to County Road 21 route, I chose Highway 10 to Becker, then took MN State Highway 25 north. Through Foley and Gilman and Jakeville and Little Rock and…

Buckman!

With a listed population of 270, Buckman is nearly four times the size of Genola. Which is probably why they got a big, shiny new Clark branded gas station. I didn’t get a good picture of it, so this one peeking out from behind the Buckman sign, is as good as I’ve got. 

Well, that Clark Station in Buckman, closed in either 2022 or 2023, according to the Googles. Perhaps building it next to a cemetery was a bad omen? Looking at those same Googles drive by’s, the station had to have opened between 2009 and 2014. The 2009 drive by shows this land as a bunch of trees and brush.

Looking at the station, and the period of time it was operational, I started to wonder if it was built by the same guys who bought the old Mobil space in Genola? Carl had told me they bought the land and demolished the store, with the intent of building a larger gas station on the site. However, it wasn’t built, and the land didn’t look like it was the right size for a large gas station. Did they take their plans and money to Buckman?

And it ultimately failed in give or take 10 years…

Here’s the big Buckman church. I’m bummed out that my picture cut off the very top of the steeple.

And the electric pole blocking it. 

Budweiser/Bootleggers Bar sign on the northeast corner of County Road 25 & 133rd street. Landmark to indicate the turn off leading to the farmhouse Carl was staying at.

Farmhouse and horse barns. Looks a lot nicer than it did in 2004.

Skunk River crossing 133rd street. Spring flooding had the river nearly over the banks. Usually you can barely see the slow trickle of water between the tall grass growing along the road.

Rounding the County Road 25 turn into Genola, the Silver Bullet Bar & Grill sign in front of the Griffy’s back parking lot. The Silver Bullet Bar & Grill is new. But the Pierz Freedom Fest took place 9 months ago. 

Turning off 25, onto MeadowLark Road looking west. The Red Rooster is on the right. That one mystery building from my 2012 pictures, is on the left.

The Silver Bullet Bar & Grill is now running out of the old MeadowLark Combo building.

Griffy’s Old Town Bar & Grill has been taken over by new ownership and currently (in April 2019) being renovated. New siding has been installed, along with a new front door, out front. An upgrade from the old look was definitely needed, but the choice of going with siding, just doesn’t work here. 

I walked up to the open window, to try for an interior shot. I didn’t notice my flash was on and it ruined the picture. But I saw the back doors were open, and a couple of people are working inside. Now, had I been smart (or at least outgoing), I would have introduced myself and asked if I could take a few pictures inside. As cool as that would have been (and it did enter my mind), I’m just not the type of person to do that sort of thing.

So I took no more photos of ex-Griffy’s, and moved on.

Corner Cafe is now closed. That kind of bums me out, even though there’s no reason for it to… When my parents drove up to Genola in 2004, and took that picture I led off this story with, they had dinner at the Corner Cafe. The food was reported to be “good”. With the Corner Cafe sign removed, the previous “This and That” sign was uncovered. It’s really too bad they ruined with smeared black paint. Would really like to know more about This and That. 

The door is telling me that it has been sold.

Carl told me that The Corner Cafe used to be a bank, going back to the 1920’s. 

A few thousand feet north of here, on County Road 25, the B.P. gas station is now Speedway. I’m going in for supplies and relief, and then it’s back to Crapids.

I’ll drive back on Highway 169, taking a quick drive through Pierz. The pictures I took through town were used earlier, so this is the last relevant picture before going back to my familiar stomping grounds. 

That pretty much end the story of Griffy’s and Genola, as far as I’m concerned. I haven’t been back to Genola, since this April 2019 afternoon. I’ll probably drive though again at some point, even if there’s no reason to.

August 5, 2025

All of this took much longer to put together than I would have liked. The final piece ended up being a lot larger than planned, but there was too much I didn’t want to cut from the original Wasted Quarter story. I’ll finish this off with a brief summary of what has taken place since.

First up the 99 Spillihp gas station…

March 29, 2005

Former brother in 99, Trav, and myself, loitering by the fountain at “Lio Htak presents 99 Spillihp”. Photo taken by his then-wife, Jen. They still lived nearby, but the rest of the 99 Spillihp cast of wacky characters were (understandably) long gone. Meaning my second (third) stint at the gas station wasn’t nearly as fun as the first two. Posh wasn’t coming in to hang out and eat Donuts. Doktor John wasn’t dropping by to steal a Chuckwagon. It was just me and all the between customer notebook time I could drink from the fountain.

Despite knowing that my life needed to move on in Colorado, quitting the gas station still made me sad. About a year later, Lio Htak sold the 99 Spillihp to a local owner. Immediately, everyone who worked there was fired, and the store suffered. 99 Spillihp was simply U.S. Gas. No need call it S.U. Sag. No one’s around to care. My beloved gas station and Coon Rapids historical landmark, closed for good in early 2008. The building was demolished in 2010. Crapids hasn’t been the same since.

Maybe that’s not a bad thing?

In November 2023, Trav killed himself on the banks of the Mississippi River.

Not a day goes by where I don’t think of him.

******

In early May, 2005, I loaded the Blueberry Honksicle with necessities and moved to Littleton, Colorado. Just as my January fantasy envisioned, I rented a small bedroom in the basement of Cheryl’s house, with four other roommates. I had FrankenMac tag teaming with a newly assembled Windows box, for internet purposes. Had a desk with a great height for notebook writing, my clothes, and a very condensed version of the archives. 

Behind the basement window on the left side of this house, was my home from May 2005 to May 2006.

Since I was back living where my mind-altering substance of choice is readily available and convenient, I completely quit drinking shortly after moving back. Other than a couple instances, I haven’t drank in over 20 years now. Don’t think I had a problem, but there were some scary instances during the second Minnesota run of 2003-2005. Drinking has never been  anything I miss either.

I’m still writing in notebooks, but that’s evolved over the years. I don’t carry around the full size notebook anymore. There’s rarely time for it. Instead, I carry a pocket notepad everywhere, and when I fill pages up, they get taped into a full sized notebook. So my writing now looks like this:

It’s more efficient. I haven’t broken in a new notebook since 2017…

******

When I drove through Genola in 2019, I saw people working inside Griffy’s. They converted it into Rudy’s Road House, which is still open today. To compete with the Silver Bullet, next door. And the Red Rooster down the block. The population of Genola is less today, than it was in 2004. But it can still support three bars in less than one block.

Genola loves their alcohol!

One final note on Griffy’s…

Namesake of the bar, Garold "Griffy" Winscher, died in 2016. 

Given the stories he told me about Griffy, I doubt Carl shed any tears over the loss. And I certainly wasn’t impressed from the few times I saw him.

For whatever reason, Carl and I have lost track of each other. 

I haven’t talked to him in about 5 years.

Hope he’s doing well.

This final piece has nothing to do with Griffy’s or Genola.

It was printed on the inside back cover of Wasted Quarter 58, and I think it still belongs with this story.

The Anoka Halloween Parade by Doktor John (January 2001)

I hated that fucking parade... What a bunch of shit that was... They have fucking National Guardsmen out there, like they’re protecting some national treasure... Like they’re parading the US Constitution down Main Street in Anoka... Only to end up in the lobby of Anoka Perkins... Here you go! Eat your Mammoth Muffin and look at the Constitution... What the fuck is that? 

Trying to go to the liquor store... NOPE!! You gotta be re-routed all the way through St. Cloud! We got a big bunch of important stuff going on here, and you can’t drive anywhere. You might as well turn around and go home. I mean, you know the Anoka Halloween celebration goes on for at least six months. You got one day to drive! The parade starts on that day and ends the day before it. It’s a yearly thing you understand... Don’t drive anywhere... Shut the city down... Here comes the 14 year old mayor... Geeze...

Look at this... It’s the Woman’s Auxiliary of Anoka Meat & Sausage... Teetering along on their walkers... STOP COMMERCE!!! Fucking idiots... Look out! We’re firing a cannon down the street! It gets better! Here comes the surprisingly inactive Anoka Fire Department... They’ll throw Dum-Dum’s at you... Look out! Don’t get a Smarties in your eye!!! 

Oooooooooh... They’re crossing the Ferry Street Bridge... Light the torches! City Council members... QUICK! Do backflips!!! I hate that fucking parade... Halloween capital of the world! Yes... That’s right... And you wanna know why? Cause we have a fucking neon pumpkin that winks at you on top of the Police Station, that’s why... That’s their Halloween decorations... (I always thought the Halloween capital of the world claim was a little suspect...)

That’s my plan... Next year I’m going to ruin the Anoka Halloween Parade... Look! Here comes a Long Box S-10... With some fucking crepe paper (spelling) hanging off... OWOOOGAAH! OWOOOGAAH!!! Sound the alarms! Don’t go anywhere... Here comes the parade!

And that’s the sad thing is that Main Street is the only thoroughfare. So if you live west of Main Street... You can’t live that day. God bless the Lyric Arts Pocket Theater... Doing The Taming of the Shrew... What are they? Uhhhhhh... Uhhh... I hate Anoka... Worse than I’ve ever hated anything...

Well, I like antiques cause they’re old... And so am I! All it is is antique shops... And coffee shops... Ye Olde Shop-pees... Welcome to Anoka... Land of Shop-pees... One switchblade for everyone in Anoka... 

You know, they actually did fire a cannon down the street. In the beginning... That’s why... Yeah... Here comes the parade... But look out for the cannonball! Apparently that was like to clear pedestrians... “Going to Mr. Jones...” Dude no... cause a cannonball came down here like ten minutes ago, so you might just wanna hang out... Oh I see what you’re doing now! It’s a parade! You had to clear the path! 

Carl’s knife made Carl’s shot glass splash...