Day 17: Dinner with McKee, then drinks at the K-House

I grabbed some dinner with McKee tonight (usually referred to here as Ashley, but I never call her that so it’s kind of dumb to use her first name on the blog). We talked about relationships for a bit, and then had a few laughs. Pretty standard dinner actually.

After that I headed over to Kettlehouse for beers with Keila and Chelsi from the Missoulian. I bring this up because there’s an unwritten rule in some people’s minds that the Indy and the Missoulian hate each other. Now, I admit that I’ve probably helped this perception with my own writing, but it isn’t completely true. Keila, for instance, once worked at the Indy. Journalists are like military members – we sort of just get the battles each other go through.

And in case anyone wonders, we rarely talk beats and stories – we are, after all, competition. (Just kidding. I think we avoid the talk mostly because it’s work, and who wants to talk shop at Kettlehouse?)

Tonight all I’ve done is watch Sean play Resident Evil 4, and suffer through Bill’s music tastes (Brooks and Dunn, Elton John, and Peter Cetera…bleh). The last few nights I’ve been on fire with mockings against Bill that have made his Facebook page. This first example has to do with my thoughts that “Harvey” is a cool name for a girl:

Bill: Harvey is Rizzo [from Grease].
Pat: Definitely.
Bill: But she wouldn't get knocked up.
Pat: Oh, she might get knocked up, but she'd Juno that shit.

And then I have this one on his page as well:

John: Jackson (Wyo.) is like my ball sack.
Pat Duganz: It's sprawling and has too many tourists?

I don’t know how I became so quotable, but I did. I guess I’m just awesome like that. And by awesome, I mean the opposite of Bill’s musical tastes. Seriously as I wrap this up I am watching him listening to Cher. I think I should point out, however, that he is only doing this to make the blog…that he’s already on multiple times. It’s kind of sad.

I should also note that Bill “Shitpickle” Oram denies that he’s listening to this crap to make the blog, which I think makes it worse. But that’s just me. Quotable me.

Remember: Friday has my big update.

***

Well, right as I posted this Bill and I had a talk about Jerry MacGuire. I pointed out to him that at the end of the film when Renée Zellwegger says, "You had me at hello," that Tom Cruise never said hello. I got this info from my friend Adam, but upon watching the clip on YouTube, he does indeed say "Hello" when he walks in. So...Shitpickle wins this round, but I still feel like the movie ranks at best three-stars. The way it makes love so simple. Hollywood sucks. Bunch of liars.

Day 16: Stanley Kowalski is probably gay too

I caught the Montana Rep’s version of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof tonight, which I thought was really good, and highly recommend.

My friend Alex and I (remember him from a few posts back?) caught it together as a bit of a man-date and between acts had a talk about how each Tennessee Williams play touches on the topic of closeted gay men...which sort of makes sense given the context of the man-date

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Alex quipped.

But then I dropped a bomb. Since high school I’ve been working out this theory that Stanley Kowalski is gay. Sure Blanche’s husband was gay so that would fit the motif of a Williams play, but I also think Stanley stood in the closet as well.

My argument: Stanley had to lash out at Blanche not because he found her annoying and intrusive, but because, after finding out about her closeted gay husband (CGH), he felt his secret, living as a gay man, could be known. Further, what does he do with the knowledge of the CGH? He goes and tells his friend Mitch so Mitch will end it with Blanche. See, he wanted Mitch all to himself, and he knew pushing the two away would create a rift wherein he could make his move on his long time pal. And the ending? The whole “STELLA!” thing? More rage based on how he feels inside, a person uncomfortable in his own skin. He needs Stella because she stands as the one thing that can keep him on the status quo. It’s sad really. Way sadder than Blanche’s craziness.

Okay. I’m not completely serious, but I think there is an argument that Stanley was gay – if only I just make it up in my head to entertain a friend during an intermission.

Still, it opens up that whole debate about Brando again…

Anyway, I'd like to touch back on the whole man-date thing. I've noticed whenever two guys hangout in a scenario most commonly enjoyed by a couple – play, movie, dinner – somehow the conversation always ends up about stupid, completely inane crap. But I think guys need to do it. It gives us time to talk about stupid inane crap that only guys talk about.

Little update on the "Big news": It's coming on Friday...and no, I'm not pregnant.

Day 15: Yeah, about CNN…

It sucks, and because it reigns as the only legitimate alternative to Fox News I hate it even more than that monstrosity. My big beef with it: Wolf Blitzer.

I have an amusing anecdote about Wolfy. As a kid I used to like fiddling with the electronics my parents owned, and by far the VCR provided the most entertainment. At the age of four I figured out how to record TV, but not which channel, so unfortunately my parents copy of Dances with Wolves – that they recorded from they’re stolen HBO – was destroyed by three hours of Wolf Blitzer.

They were not amused, and in retrospect neither am I. The last thing I need floating around in my childhood home is a copy of a 1989 version of Blitzer talking about Bush Sr. To me that seems worse than homemade pornography…but just slightly.

Lately I’ve been reading the blog posts Blitzer provides for CNN’s Political Tracker blog (Click his name above). I may be relatively new to this art, and I may not be very good at all, but I am leaps ahead of a guy who puts the headline “Blitzer: Stunned by readers' response” on an article beginning, “I must say I was stunned…”

Thanks Wolf, didn’t quite get that from the headline. He then goes on to diligently kiss the ass of each viewer saying:

"I have always had high confidence in our CNN viewers. I know you are smart because you wouldn’t be watching The Situation Room and all of our other CNN political coverage if you weren’t. There are simply too many other options available to all of you — ranging from sitcoms, to sports, to silly talk shows. Our viewers are intelligent and that certainly came through with your comments."

Someone put a muzzle on this guy, or at the very least handcuff him so he cannot type this kind of garbage.

Two days later (Jan. 16) he dropped this in a post titled “Blitzer: How quickly things change”:

“It’s amazing how quickly things can change. It wasn’t that long ago when the war in Iraq and terrorism were the number one issues on the minds of Americans. Now, according to the latest polls, it’s back to the economy.”

What keen insight! People, many of whom have foreclosures looming, worry about the economy. Now I know why you’re part of “The Best Politcal Team on television.”

Another great Blitzer moment is the post titled “Blitzer: Get Ready for a Wild Ride,” which begins…oh if you’re not already onto this one… “Get ready for a wild ride…”

The worst part about his utter lack of creativity is that he has the audacity for posts with this kind of crap:

“This is one of those days when an anchor (me) really appreciates his staff (mine).”

“We like to say that CNN has the best political team on television. And that is true. But I have to add that I have the best staff on television. They are hard-working, smart and determined to get the story right. And I am totally grateful.”

He goes on to say this:

“While it’s important for a journalist to get the story first, it is much more important to get it right.”

Anyone remember where you were in 2000 when Wolf and other TV puppets called Florida for Gore? I know, I know, Gore probably won, but that night it was too close to call when CNN called it for him, only to recant after Fox called shenanigans. Get it right my ass.

I think Jack Shafer from Slate.com said it best in his Jan. 10 article "The Best Political Team on Television"?: On election night, CNN runs its preposterous slogan into the ground."

“Now, it's one thing for a station in a bush-league television market to proclaim itself the ‘region's news leader. Little harm is done because so few are insulted. But when a major network flings such a load of humbug on a day of peak viewership, the damage is palpable.”

Exactly, but more than that it’s annoying – much like when Fox personalities repeat tired phrases that are often lies (I’m looking at you, Sean Hannity).

I know I'm being tough on him, but his claims are boisterous and all to frequent, and his insight s lack any type of...um...insight. (Damn! I could have done better with that one.) Yeah, he's broadcast so he only gets to speak in slogans and sound bites couch surfers can comprehend, but that shouldn't let him off the hook completely.

So that’s my thoughts for Tuesday. We finished up another issue of the Indy today and I hope you’ll check out on Thursday…or any day of the week really…

Day 14: Work

Mondays always seem to take too long for me. I get up early, shower, and hit the office by nine. Then I make calls if I have to. Do research. More calls. E-mails. Check if our “Week in Review” file needs updates (it always does), and then I write. When that’s done I get ready for the City Council meeting by doing research, making calls, reading pdfs, etc. Then I start wondering about food. I eat. I go to Council. I come home and write. I sleep.

Today is that normal Monday, but made all the more magic because of all the snow I found on my car this morning. The longer this winter goes, and the more ice I have to scrape, the more I want to just start walking or taking the bus.

Actually, I think I will start. I hate my car that much. I’ve got $.85, a schedule, and a hankerin’ for not driving in this weather any more.

Sorry I don’t have much else today.

Weekend: Days 11, 12, and 13… Jesus I’m lazy

It was another weekend, and another round of dropping from the blog… sorry Megan.

Let’s have a bit of a recap:

Friday: Went out to the Union Club with John, Alex, and a girl named Alyssa and then to the Rhino and the Badlander. Yeah, long night indeed. John ended up with a hangover rating at least 9 Murdochs (For those of you unaccustomed to the Rupert Murdoch Hangover Scale, essentially it measures your hangover on a scale of 1-10 in relation to how stupid you are. At 1 you green light Married with Children, at 10 you hire an asshole like John Gibson to give his opinion to the world). But I don’t care about the drinking, what mattered was that John, the good one, and I were on fire when it comes to charming humor. Most of it was pretty lowbrow, but everyone had a good time. Then John and I walked home in the cold.

Saturday: Another night at the Union, this time to see Tom Catmull and the Clerics and wish luck to my friend Peter Bulger who’s decided to travel to India for six months to help his cousin research…something. Tom Catmull (played great BTW) plays loud and I’m kind of hard of hearing so I lost most of Peter’s explanation. John didn’t go out (see Friday), Sean and Tonya did however, as did Ashley, Kyle, Zane and a few others. It got kind of crowded on our area of the bar, but that’s a good thing. The night also featured me telling people some big news that I’ll get into a little later in the week…it’s big though, so check back…moving on.

Saturday ranks as probably the second best night I’ve had in Missoula for some time with plenty of laughs. I will say though that only one person could have improved the night: Danny Davis. Okay, I’m not exactly serious; I just thought he deserved a shout since he sent out an e-mail telling people about the blog and I wanted to make a joke at his expense (click the link). Wait, I nearly forgot about this: When we got home around two I ran into John’s room and scared him. He didn’t enjoy that very much.

[You know, I should really explain the situation with John, Sean, Bill and I. I lived with Sean and John this summer, and now I live in their backyard. Essentially. I live in an alley duplex right behind them. It’s nice because I still get to live with my friends, but without actually living with them. It’s perfect.]

I walked home again, this time with Sean and Tonya in tow. The night felt much warmer than the previous, though this might have been caused by Tonya having the three of us do carbombs before leaving. Our journey across town was a very good time with plenty of hilarious moments I want to divulge, but I’m sure they’d rather I not blog about.

So now we come to Sunday. Today. Nothing going on. I’ve watched John play videogames and we ran some errands (I have shampoo again. Holla!). Sean looked in bad shape today with a hangover of 6 Murdochs (Meaning he’d let Geraldo have a show again). I feel fine. Tonya seemed a little messed up, but quite functional. I plan on doing very little for the rest of the day.

I feel like I’ve rambled a lot so why not a little more?

Let’s talk about John Gibson since I mention him above. I’m sure everyone’s already heard about what he did, but I just have to say something myself, and that is, “I hope this homophobic, myopic, moron gets fired…from a canon…pointed at a building.”

In case you’re to lazy to click the link, I’ll summarize: Gibson played a clip from Brokeback Mountain on his radio show when Heath Ledger died of Jake Gyllenhaal's infamous line “I wish I knew how to quit you." After that Gibson came back on the air to say, “Well he (Ledger) found a way to quit you.”*

What an asshole. It’s probably the most disgusting thing I’ve heard in a while and I read Bill O’Reilly’s weekly column.

If anything happens today I’ll update. Again, let me plug that big news is coming this week so do check back.

* Tristan Scott sent me a correction on this graph. Originally my post didn't make it clear who said the line "I wish...," and besides, I misquoted it to begin with. Thanks Tristan for catching that. All is now well.

Day 10: This bit of annoyance I had...

So, I’ve wanted to avoid this, but I feel like I have to say something about it because I’m so annoyed. The other day I saw an article (and a press release) about how athletes at the University of Montana take 12.5 credits per semester on average, and have a 3.0 gpa. The other nearly 12,000 students don’t measure up to this standard of hard work and success. Allegedly.

So from the facts presented one could assume that our jocks are smart, right? Well, some sure, maybe even most, but the fact that their credit load is over 12 has to do with this thing called a “scholarship.” Athletes at UM must take at least 12 credits. The other 12,000 don’t have to do that because they pay/take loans/beg to receive an education. It's their choice to take credits, and not a requirement.

And, for an added bonus, the numbers provided by UM allowed for students failing classes. Again, athletes at UM cannot fail classes. They must maintain a decent gpa akin to this thing called “passing” or be kicked out.

What I'm saying is that to compare 12,000 students to a few fortunate, talented athletes, is an uneven comparison and totally skewed toward something many will not be forced to achieve. Some students take 3 credits, or six, or nine, or 21. Some have crappy grades because they have kids, and – get this! – kids need attention. Others might have dropped out early, yet unofficially, and failed every class they enrolled in.

The whole situation with the attention on this skewed perspective reminded me of my days at Anaconda High when I was part of an outcast, nerdish group of guys who watched Kevin Smith movies and talked about girls. (We'd spend all of our time imaging that someday one of these mythical girls may let us sit near them, and then, maybe even date them...gasp). We didn’t drink or do drugs, yet a few of us, myself included, found ourselves on the receiving end of rudeness, and ridicule from authority because (yet another gasp) we had odd hair, or weird music tastes.

I hated the double standard between athletes and others then, and I hate it even more today because I know that it makes people feel worthless.

Anyway, now to CYA...

Personally I love sports. I watch football whenever possible and still remember the first time I saw Randy Johnson throw a strikeout in person (he actually through 14 in the game I saw). But, I don’t think an athlete is any better than the rest of us. We're all just people.

You want to give the public a stat to absorb take a survey of how every student working at the Kaimin 40 hours a week, and still taking 12-18 credits, can make it work out somehow. Or how single parents get degrees and somehow work out day care for their kids, or any other number of successful students with a “lot on their plate.” There are thousands to choose from and to put these people in a lower class than a few select students that must succeed for scholarship reasons is wrong. And to see this unfair comparison annoyed me. Deeply.

Again, I think athletes are great, but I think anyone succeeding at college is equally great. It’s not an easy time (even with the procrastination and partying). I finished my BA in four years., and that took a lot of work, and more stress than I care to enter into again any time soon. Every student knows this feeling, regardless of athletic ability. And, damnit, they deserve respect.

So here it is: Good job guys and gals doing college on their own system of work and loans. You’ve got a lot to deal with and you make it work. All 12,000 of you. Maybe you can't tkae all 12 credits to be full time, or maybe you're grades slipped because of some personal issue. Who cares? You're trying to better yourself through knowledge, and that's a fine pursuit in life.

And in other news: I covered an event on poverty today that was really exciting. I'm writing about it for next week's Indy, and I think when the issue publishes I'll write something here as well. That's all folks. Thanks for reading this elaborate rant.

Day nine: Really Gatorade, really?

I saw this commercial today for Gatorade G2, a new type of Gatorade that’s just water and flavoring. Whatever, people buy stupid crap all the time–that’s not what got me. The commercial’s soundtrack, however, did bother me: “Walk on the Wild Side” by Lou Reed.

This type of commercial needs to end, for too long advertisement creators have used good songs – the Ramones “Blitzkrieg Bop,” to name another – for monetary gains. It bother me a whole damn lot. From now on I think only terrible music should be allowed in commercials. Well, unless it was one for Roosters, the local shop.

I went there today for the first time ever, and I am now officially a fan. Beer during a haircut, what can I say? It’s sweet. Plus I got a hot towel over my face while I got my hair washed. That is way more relaxing than I ever thought it could be.

Admittedly the $24 price tag caught me as a tad but high, but I felt so elated by the time I got done with the whole deal that I didn’t care. It’s that good.

Outside of that I am glad our issue is done this week and as per usual I am looking forward to the weekend…maybe it’ll be warmer.

Day eight: A few thoughts I had today

Tonight I got home after what was a really long day at work and ordered a pizza. It occurs to me that every time I do this I wonder what would happen if I greeted the pizza person (check out that PC niceness) with a song on guitar what they would do. I think punch me, but still the thought crosses my mind.

The other thing running through my mind concerns Heath Ledger. I know, mourning a movie star seems odd, but a part of me does. I was never some big fan of his, but I once saw Brokeback Mountain in a Salt Lake City indie film house. It’s a memory oddly ironic given last days post.

When I rocked the SLC I was dating the illusive “J,” who went by Jamie. She, her sister, and I, all saw the film together amongst what has to be the funniest/saddest moment in the history of religious oppression.

See, the owner of the Utah Jazz, Larry Miller (seriously click this link), owns a slew of movie houses in Salt Lake. About the time I was visiting, around Christmas 2005, Brokeback Mountain was seeing a huge release in a studio driven attempt to get some Oscars. The religious leaders in Utah were totally freaked out. Gays? Movies? NOOOOOOO!

At the front of the pack was Larry Miller, who immediately condemned the film and said he would not show it in his theaters. Thus, we saw it at the indie film house and I cried like a little girl. Seriously, that movie broke this chubby Irish kids heart, and if you haven’t seen it, go rent it right now. Even if you’re a Neanderthal who dislikes gay people, see it.

So that’s why I feel bad about Mr. Ledger. Because of him I have a really great memory from my time in SLC, and that movie probably wouldn’t have existed without him.

Oh, and also, the movie that Miller replaced Brokeback with? Hostel. Yeah, gay equals bad, but torture and blood are fine.

Religion…jeez.

Day seven: Fine…I’ll talk about love…

The title is completely misleading in that it presumes someone wrote me a message demanding I discuss my love life, but they didn’t. I promised to do it over the weekend and failed. I guess, and this shocks even me, talking about it seems so personal. Yes, I am the guy who once ruminated on moments when my family thought I was gay, but that was mostly jest on a real event. I’d like this to be a serious appraisal of my life…in front of an audience of several I presume.

First though I think I should clear up a word I used a few posts back, “Holla.” I should explain that I only use this word in ironic or as complete nonsense. An example by way of dialogue:

John: Did you take my beer?
Me: Yeah.
John: Why?
Me: Holla.

So…moving on. Let’s start the list of my failed attempts at love (initials protect identities):

L (Off and on Jan. 2003 – Dec. 2004)
M (Feb. 2005 – May 2005)
K (July 2005 – Aug. 2005)
J (Roughly Oct. 2005 – Jan. 2006)
C (Feb. 2007 – Dec. 2007)

This list leaves out the girls who fell between as hook-ups, a few short dates, or any other amalgamation of poor decision-making one can imagine. I know that some people my age have lists astonishingly longer, but mine still disturbs me if only because I know people who are marrying their second boyfriend or girlfriend…ever…and that’s sort of depressing. Mostly I get a tad bummed by my bungling because in each case something I did led to the failure of the relationship. Cold feet. The “convinced you are cheating” paranoia every guy experiences at one point or another. Living in a different area code. My fault. Each one. I apologize, but the deeds have been done and this isn’t High Fidelity––we’re not meeting up to discuss it.

I don’t hit. I’m not verbally abusive. I try to be considerate (even though I fail in huge ways from time to time). I try to do little things because I think those matter most. But, there’s this other side of me…the dumbass side. Here are ten examples:

1. Oddly confused about what I do wrong, yet completely aware of it
2. I often experience bouts of insecurity over everything from size of my ass to any talent I may have or not have
3. Always sneezing
4. Remember how in When Harry Met Sally Billy Crystal talks about reading the last page of a book first just in case he dies before getting to it as if that were evidence of a dark side? I have a will. I am 23.
5. I’ll forget every important date – birthdays and anniversaries equally – like I get paid to do it.
6. Snoring is my hobby
7. I nearly always dislike or am disliked by your friends
8. When I feel stressed I become very quiet and “don’t want to talk about it,” and when I do (and this gem comes from my friend John) I'm sort of a dick. I'd note however that these aren't extremely common
9. I meant to call…
10. Free For All: Have you dated me, or otherwise seen me? Feel free to comment.

After a long think over the whole issue, I'm pretty sure these are just the tip of the iceberg that represents my problems. Overall, I’m not looking for marriage now, or maybe ever (the whole concept seems bad…the government licensing human relationships? They can barely keep bridges in order), all I really want is to just get a slight hold on what the hell other people are doing to make relationships work that I fail at. Some of my problems I can’t change–like the snoring (asthma)–but others I should really work on. I mean forgetting a birthday? It’s called a “calendar.” Your friends? I should at the very least hide my disgust…as long as they reciprocate.

Okay that’s all I got for you. We can dive into each relationship later if it’s relevant to the post or if someone falls back into my life in a way I’ll have to address. I see no reason to do that just yet, and besides, this post is getting very long compared to the others.

Weekend: Days five and six

Well, I’ve already received on Facebook message about failing to update this blog yesterday, but I have an excuse. I got up with a bit of a headache (Bill and I went out Friday and, um…yeah). I sat around with John for a while drinking coffee and watching him play Resident Evil 4 until Sean and Tonya and Bill got up and we all went to Old Post for breakfast.

After that I played guitar until late into the afternoon before deciding to go to Cloverfield with my friend Tom. Just so you know, that movie rocks. You need to see it. My only complaint comes from the 9/11-symbolism that sort of sticks out as if to say, “Hey! Sept. 11 was bad, huh?! Feel bad about this too!” Luckily they get back to the monster and things improve.

Then we watched – and this is completely true – Christian TV programs. One show had to do with missionaries having car problems. The guy spoke in this overdramatic way about it as if he were saying things like, “There were no survivors,” but he was talking about a Subaru. Tom, his brother Karf and I all sat around mocking it until late when all of the primary and caucus numbers were in. Boring day actually.

I have an aside here: Tom and Karf are both Mormon so we had a long talk about how if Romney gets the Republican nod the amount of veiled Mormon hate spewing from TV meat puppets will be amazingly high. You think Lou Dobbs hates Latinos and Hispanics? Just you wait…

But anyway… that’s why I didn’t update yesterday. I had other things going on.

Today I’m watching football with a bunch of people and rooting against the Patriots. I can’t wait until hating these bastards becomes political issue. Imagine it. Bill O’Reilly will say things like, “Of course Hillary Clinton won’t be cheering for the Patriots because doing so would be raving for the flag and she is controlled by far-left elements who hate patriotism, families, puppies…and freedoms…and they love gays!”

The love gays part will be essential. He’ll have to add that in there if only because homosexuality must always be a divisive issue in his mind.

The only other news I have comes from 4 & 20 Blackbirds. They found me. I don’t know how, but they found me. (Run for it Marty!) So, welcome everyone. I hope you have a good time reading about my life. I only wonder who over there posted about me... they didn't use a byline, but apparently like my work. Thanks people. I like being liked (much better than hate).

Day Four: James Bar and the unpaid tab

Last night was a really fun night. One of the best I’ve had in a while.

My friend John celebrated his 22nd last night with his parents, his sister Sunny, and a good portion of our crew of insolent fools (Sean, Tonya, and myself). Good times had by all as we lit up the Depot and this new bar James Bar, which I thought I’d hate, but actually found quite charming despite a large population of Polo wearers.

What I really want to talk about though is John stiffing Sean and I with the bill at James Bar. He ordered calamari and a ton of drinks (okay, only two) then hightailed it home leaving the bill untouched. Douche. But that’s okay; I plan on doing that to him sometime in the near future.

I also ran into my dorm roommate Ryan and shared a drunken hug, which was better than the last time I saw him.

We ran into each other downtown about four months back and he decided we needed to go drink at the Depot. Nice, except for some reason he got the idea that punching me in the face was an equally good idea. I didn’t however, so I punched him back. He was with this girl that night and the violent testosterone scene sort of threw her off. I found it rather funny though, especially when I ran into Ryan a few weeks later and he talked about waking up the next day and thinking, “Why the hell does my jaw hurt?”

Holla.

Anyway, tonight I think some of us will hit downtown to celebrate John and I being born, and then we’ll enjoy a nice walk home…in about a foot of snow that won’t stop falling. Why? Because it’s either that or DUIs, and I don’t make enough for that kind of an arrest.

Day Three: The thing about Hillary is…

I’ve decided to put off any discussion about my love life until the weekend––it’s a long story. Instead I am going to talk about why I dislike Sen. Hillary Clinton’s candidacy.

Allow me to provide an image for you: It’s 40 years ago and Hillary and Bill Clinton (though not yet married) are protesting the Vietnam War. Hillary says this war is evil, and the leaders have lied to people, and, most importantly, people of her generation are dying. Bill agrees so much so that he has deftly avoided the draft (genius).

First of all, I completely agree with their ideas. As we all know by now the Gulf of Tonkin Incident never happened but President Lyndon Johnson still began one of the stupidest and ill thought of conflicts in American history. The dick. So many people died for no reason––“bad intelligence” if you will.

Hillary should have stood against the war and her leaders, and she did. I’m damn proud of people like her who helped end that whole deal before Pappy Duganz came of draft age. But when she called Johnson a liar back then, she wasn’t even completely sure of it…she just didn't like the idea of war.

Fast forward to 2002…

Bad intelligence on WsMD in Iraq comes to the Senate, where Hillary now holds office. But where as when people her age were dying, now she didn’t care. Her skepticism had eroded and she beat the drum for war…for people my age.

How can a rebel change so much that they become the establishment? It kills me inside just thinking about it. This woman used to hate the government, but now, she is the government. And she had no problems with people my age dying. Amazing what a few decades will do.

So there, in just a few words, is the one and only reason I’m not part of the pro-Hillary camp. It’s not even because of any view I hold on the war. My opposition comes down to the fact that she wouldn’t send someone her age to die in a jungle, but sending someone my age to die in a desert seemed tip-top-a-roo to her.

I can’t tell if that’s depressing, or sick. All I know is I can't stomach her winning because of it.

Day Two: Meh….

I nearly destroyed my whole project today by missing this blog. I only now (at 8:30 p.m.) remembered the whole deal…sorry. I’m not exactly in the habit yet.

But moving on…

I had too many meetings today. I sort of feel bogged down by the whole deal. But anyway, let’s move on.

Since I’m blogging late I won’t get into too much detail about my impending hopes to lose weight.

And…without further ado… (drums) SALAD!

I’ve decided to eliminate fried foods and replace that with salad. I am totally depressed about this since that means no more Old Post tots. That’s really it…I know I hyped it, but that’s it. Again, sorry.

Sean’s girlfriend Tonya bought me body wash and a loofah for my birthday. Sean bought me Guinness pint glasses for drinking. John took me to lunch at OP. What an exciting birthday.

Tomorrow I plan on taking some time to write a better entry––I do have more to say. But right now I’m a little bit distracted. Sean and Tonya are playing Yahtzee, Bill is looking over stats from the game he just watched at the Press Box, and John is commentating on the Yahtzee game. In other words, this isn’t a prime writing spot.

Tomorrow I think I’ll write about my birthday resolution: Stop sleeping with people I shouldn’t sleep with. It’ll be a good time for all. I'll also introduce everyone mentioned above in a little better detail.

Happy birthday to me: Day One

So where do we begin? Should we talk about my bachelorhood and how I need to buy a broom or the Kettlehouse pig of Honey Hefe sitting in my refrigerator?

I’ve blogged before, but never with a purpose like this. In essence I’m chronicling my life, which rarely seems to entertain anyone, so I think for this first actual post I’ll just quote what one Daniel Shevlin wrote in the comment section of my latest feature for the Missoula Independent, but with my thoughts added as well:

I wonder what one person at the Independent has done to serve their country? I wager: Not one damn thing. (I’ll see your “not one damn thing” and raise you a “nothing particular.”) These young, brave people represent everything you, as liberals, take for granted. And, you got to love the inaccuracy (typical of liberals) in regards to this statement: "EVERY NIGHT we hear of more dead soldiers....." (Two periods too many) We do? Actually, troop deaths have been at an all-time low since the war began. (Since the war began, eh? How many thousands were killed before the war?) I guess 'evil' Gen. Petreus was right, eh libs? (Yes he was. However, Gen. Petraeus was not.) "An increasingly discouraging war.." (Yet more superfluous punctuation.) Huh? Actually, most people (outside of the 'left-wing propoganda [Only one “o” in propaganda.] zone' here in Missoula) have been encouraged by the progress made for democracy in Iraq. I wonder when, WHEN, (I doubt these caps were necessary) liberals, like the hypocritical egg-heads (No hyphen needed.) at the Independent, will just once demand that the Islamic extremists (you know, the people who want to kill you for not being Muslim), come to the table and discuss peace with the rest of the civilized world? Will that ever happen? (Oh no…I’m having an out of body experience…I can see Bill Clinton…and Arafat…they’re talking about…peace…and it’s the 90’s.) Hmm...Jews and Christians have managed to carve out a peaceful world with themselves, haven't we? (White Christian Nationalists for Israel, right?) Can you imagine the world of peace we would have if the Muslims would recounce death and murder and embrace peace? (If only “recouncing” was possible.) How about demanding that Muslims give women equal rights? I thought 'equality' was a virtue prized by liberals?

The last two rhetorical questions bothered me, not because I’m left without an argument (liberals do in fact demand equality, but without bombs), but because my feature was about two U.S. Army recruits discussing why during a very unpopular war they are joining the military. Politics had nothing to do with it. At all. But this guy didn’t care; he just wanted a stage to complain about “liberals,” and he used my article as a jumping off point. Not only does that stink of below average reading comprehension, but also it just seems petty.

Not that this guy hasn’t bottomed out before (He wrote a letter to us saying hate crimes could be someone leaving pickle off of a gay man's burger), but I digress.

Actually returning fire against this guy has made me feel a little better about turning 23 today. A little preview about tomorrow’s post: I’ll detail how I plan on losing 20 pounds in the next few months.

An Introduction

When I turned 18 I thought, and this is not a lie, “Cool, now I can vote and move away from Anaconda*.” Twenty-one brought the unmistakable joy of buying booze with a real ID and without feeling panicky about it.

And now 23…what does that even mean? So many ages come with inherent significance and meaning without any effort on part of the individual, but 23 just sticks out as a meaningless era between legal drinking, and cheaper insurance.

Okay, so maybe I’m being sardonic. But I have my reasons. College is over. I’m single. Broke. About 20 pounds overweight. I need new glasses. My hair is calling for a full retreat from my scalp. Prescriptions cost too much. Gas costs too much. I think I’m developing some sort of gastronomical issue. I may be a hypochondriac. And my sleep patterns are dreadfully erratic.

This was not what I pictured as my life at 23, but oh my, it is.

What do you do when you wake up one morning, just shy of 23, chunky yet having malnutrition, with the taste of Marqués de Cáceres Crianza Rioja 2003 wine still bitter in your mouth, and a mild case of depression? What if the greatest compliment you had ever received began to ring untrue? I don’t know the answers either, but I plan on finding out.

Starting Jan. 15, my birthday, I will begin daily postings here (and occasionally on YouTube) as a way to chronicle the next year of my life as I search for the answers to the following:

• Out of college…now what?
• Single…now what?
• Two years to write a complete draft of a novel as per promise to dying relative (made three years ago)…how hard can that be?

And probably the most important question:

• What do I really want in life?

For some reason I always thought what I wanted was to be a published, professional writer. Then, I found out how easy it is to be this. You go to journalism school for four years, work moderately hard, graduate, and apply to a newspaper. Done. Pro. Dream discovered. I never realized until now that there were more layers to be exposed, such as what kind of writer one wishes to be, or where one wants to write. I always thought you just wrote stuff somewhere. Wrong. It’s complicated.

So, for those of you who haven’t quite figured it out, I am having a mid-mid-life crisis. Out of boredom, stupidity, or both, I am asking you to come join me on my quest to find answers in my life, and maybe figure out just who the hell Duganz at 23 really is.

*Clarifying: Anaconda is a small town in Montana where I grew up. Hated. And am happy to be free of.