I know I said I wasn’t going to do an April Fools’ joke this year, but I couldn’t help myself.

Our real weather on April 1 was partly cloudy with a high of 41°. But they didn’t know that, I reasoned. Did anyone fall for it? Certainly not my mom, who was first out of the gate to call bullshit. Most of my friends weren’t fooled…but a few were. In the annals of April Fools’ pranks this one was pretty tame and last-minute, but: mission accomplished.
I’m sorry. I can’t help myself. A cowboy is born to ride a horse. A prankster is born to prank. It’s in my blood.
I have to give a shout-out to Kwik Trip, my favorite gas station in the world. On April 1, they posted this:

So, of course, everyone was all, Ha-ha, nice try, April Fools’! Myself included. Just like KFC’s toothpaste, Raising Cane’s moisturizing sauce, Kikkoman’s perfume, Moolah’s pickle milk, and a whole slew of food-related April Fools’ pranks, I wasn’t about to fall for a fake product.
But here’s why the marketing gurus at Kwik Trip are brilliant: the hot dog flavored potato chips are real.


So, the joke was, this wasn’t a joke at all. And everyone was fooled. I’ve gotta say, in the history of April Fools’ pranks, this is downright genius! It’s a twist that would make M. Night Shyamalan proud. In retrospect, it’s not even surprising that Kwik Trip would come out with hot dog flavored chips. Last year, they sold blueberry doughnut potato chips for a limited time. Tara and I tried a bag. Did they leave a powdery purplish residue on our fingers? Yes, they did. But they weren’t terrible. Sweet and savory is a winning combination, as any self-respecting Voodoo Doughnut bacon maple bar fan will attest.

Gotta hand it to these guys: they are not afraid to think outside the box.
When 5:00 rolled around yesterday, Tara and I dove into our weekly card night, right on cue. We had Alexa pick a cube again. She randomly chose 4, which is Cs and Ds. We played Culture Club, The Doobie Brothers, Donovan, Depeche Mode, The Commodores, and Def Leppard, among others. Fun time as always (even if Tara did hand me my ass playing Skip-Bo).
Bijoux asked a great question in that last post: What would you say is your most unusual album?
I love this question! And it made me all introspective and stuff, ’cause I’d never pondered that before. Several albums come to mind for different reasons.


When colored vinyl first came out, I was excited. But picture discs take things to a whole new level. Green Day and Michael Jackson are the two most colorful records in our collection, though there’s only one I listen to regularly (Dookie, of course).

The Rolling Stones’ Sticky Fingers is a classic, with tracks like “Wild Horses,” “Sister Morphine,” “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking,” “Dead Flowers,” and “Brown Sugar” (the less said about that last one, the better). Early pressings had an actual working metal zipper; I was lucky enough to snag one from a used record store years ago. Nowadays, most copies just feature a photo. We keep this one in a plastic sleeve for protection. No pun intended.

My favorite record store, Strictly Discs in Madison, sells a mystery grab bag of records for $10. You get five albums wrapped in a paper bag, so you have no idea what’s in there. When we unwrapped this Jackie Gleason album, we were confused. Gleason is well-known as Ralph Kramden from The Honeymooners, but I had no idea he was an orchestra conductor. Here’s the thing: this jazz album is really good! In fact, it’s what Tara had playing for my surprise dinner last week.

You might recall I was born in Hawaii and lived there during my formative childhood years. My parents had their own record collection and often played Hawaiian music, so I will forever have fond memories of slack key guitar. I “inherited” a bunch of albums from them (if inherited means helped myself to, since they no longer have a record player), including several Hawaiian-themed LPs. Gabby Pahinui plays very traditional island music, and while I might not understand the words, the vibe is a happy one.

The Moondoggies are an Everett, Washington-based indie rock band with doses of woodsy Americana thrown in. Their harmonies are beautiful, and they are often compared to The Byrds, The Band, and Neil Young. Tara and I discovered them when we lived in the PNW and quickly became huge fans. They played small venues in Portland often, and we started going to their shows. After one particularly inspired but sparsely attended concert in McMinnville, we hung around afterwards, and struck up a conversation with Kevin Murphy, their lead singer. He was extremely personable, and every time we saw him after that, we’d chat with him and the rest of the band.
We were seeing them for the seventh (I don’t want to say “and final,” but it’s been years now) time shortly before moving to Rapid City in 2018. Hanging out at the bar, enjoying a burger and cocktail before the show, when Kevin walked in and made a beeline straight for us. “Hi, Mark!” he said cheerily upon spotting me, then we caught up for awhile. I tried to play it cool, but I’m not gonna lie: that was a great moment.
We brought a copy of their latest album, Love Sleeps Deep, and the band members signed it. Anyone can get an autograph, but Kevin’s personalized message (even if it didn’t age well) is a true testament to the bond we forged with these guys. I love them still and occasionally interact with him on social media.
Few people have ever heard of The Moondoggies, but I beg you, go listen to “What Took So Long” right now and see if you don’t dig them too.
There were a few other good record-related questions, but I’ll have to address those another time. The sun is shining and there’s yard work to do!




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