Before City Council convened last night, I biked to Jacob’s Island to examine an urban camp I saw some pictures of on Facebook. The sign pictured above claims the area “appears abandoned”, but I saw a familiar bike with a trailer when I poked around, and the owner of this bike, if it’s who I’m thinking of, has been seen being verbally abusive to an older Native American woman.
Is enabling a drunk, abusive white man the goal of the virtue signalers? No, of course not, the majority of comments last night claimed NOT allowing urban campers to do whatever they want along the riverfront is the inhumane thing to do, and one commenter brazenly accused the pro-ordinance Council members of KILLING homeless people if this thing passes. Please.
I endured listening to comment after comment while laying in my box truck, getting more and more agitated at the obnoxious virtue-signaling on display. Then Stephanie Land came to the mic.
The threat came after Land told Council how many people have been exposed to her personal narrative of poverty after the man she chose to procreate with turned mean–100 million when you combine readers and viewers of the Netflix adaptation, which Land is an Executive Producer of–isn’t that amazing?
Stephanie Land’s third book, which she writing now, is where the threat comes into play because Land explicitly told Council last night that what was happening in Council chambers would be in her book. Oh really, Stephanie? Then how about I make a comment about the dead niggers this town wants to ignore?
I’m sorry, did I say something triggering, dear reader?
Don’t worry, I didn’t tell City Council and their virtue-signaling opponents last night that Missoula continues to treat the family of Sean Stevenson like a bunch of niggers who should just accept the fact that black men can be euthanized by the Sheriff’s Office in this liberal town, but if I had, how many liberal heads would have exploded?
So many intelligent-sounding people made their intelligent-sounding comments last night, then I spoke and reminded the audience that drug trafficking is BAD and human trafficking is BAD because I’m not sure that the fundamental reality of cartel-connected drug warfare on America’s streets is a reality these virtue-signalers are capable of grappling with.
I also reminded the audience that the Homeless Outreach Program was MY PROGRAM from the time of its inception to the time I left my position at the shelter in 2016. Does that count for anything? It should.
Later this week my profile on Ellie Boldman will hit, and I hope it hits hard. My former employer who enabled that individual is also on notice after politicizing a homeless corpse last week. Is it on? Yes, it’s on, so get ready.
If you’d like to assist my continued narrative assault on the narrative controllers in this town, Travis’ Impact Fund (TIF) is waiting for your donation.
This is the kind of attendance that occurs when Missoula attempts to restrain the proliferation of “urban crisis camping” along our prized riverfront. The virtue-signaling of commenters is very predictable and generally depicts anyone crisis camping as helpless victims who should be allowed to trash the environment because victims can’t be accountable for their own decisions.
Since victimhood is such a popular state of existence for garnering and leveraging sympathy from uninformed signalers of virtue, I’m going to show how EVERYONE in Missoula is a victim because we are ALL being victimized by a compromised media landscape, from local jokers, like Martin “Gomer” Kidston, to national media outlets, like CNN.
That last link takes you to the latest hilarity coming from a propaganda outlet pretending to be a news one. Did you know that Jake Tapper, like Martin Kidston, began his media career working for the Democratic Party? From the link:
In 1992, Tapper served as a Campaign Press Secretary for Democratic congressional candidate Marjorie Margolies-Mezvinsky (PA-13) and later served as her congressional press secretary.
Who actually thinks that our national media outlets are capable of being “unbiased”? No one with a pulse, and who isn’t getting paid directly to think otherwise, has any illusions anymore that media is anything other than blatant information warfare being waged by disgusting opportunists and paid hucksters.
To bolster the local virtue-signaling, a writer who got platformed by Netflix has an op-ed in our shit-rag newspaper about how terrible the ordinance will be, if passed. Here’s how Stephanie Land opens her support for open-air meth-colonies where I’m sure the healthiest of relationships exist among the campers (emphasis mine):
My oldest daughter moved to Missoula when she was 4. She’ll be 17 on summer solstice. I chose Missoula 13 years ago because of its family-oriented and compassionate community. We really needed that.
We became homeless when my daughter was seven months-old. After endless emotional abuse, her dad became violent, and I left with only $200, no job, and no child care. I was grateful to have a car where we could nap, eat, and store our things. We lived in a camper parked in my dad’s driveway until I found us a place in a shelter where my daughter started crawling, and eventually took her first steps the day before her first birthday.
It’s important to remember that ONLY virtue-signalers are allowed to use their children when supporting an issue they are passionate about. Parents like me, who think meth-colonies promote the kind of criminal behavior that shortens a walk with my own daughter because vehicle break-ins happen so regularly now, and in the middle of the day, that I can’t visit the river without something happening, are to be shamed and dismissed as privileged. Got it?
If not, here’s Land’s conclusion:
I’ve been hearing a lot of fear for privileged people’s safety in recent city council meetings. Ordinances like this one will force victims of domestic violence to go back to their abusers because they’re scared of being fined, jailed, and losing custody of their children. I implore you to let go of the fear you have imagined, and consider the fear you’re creating.
If Stephanie Land was capable of stepping back from her divisive dismissal of the “fear for privileged people’s safety” she might see that NO ONE enjoys the anti-social behavior that stems from enabling addiction, even those camping in our urban core.
Since virtue-signalers are supposed to be receptive to the “lived experiences” of homeless people, I’ll share some of mine regarding what I “fear” as I live out of a truck under a bridge. I have some degree of fear for the unpredictable behavior that comes from drug and alcohol dependency, and since the change in my housing status, I’ve had my car broken into and peed on, a mentally-unstable person yelling and staring me down, someone banging on my truck at 2am, and the yelling that occurred yesterday from a vehicle parking in the vicinity.
The yelling yesterday came from a couple and had the feel of a potential DV situation, so I was relieved when they finally left because this is PRECISELY the kind of behavior that I’m worried about attracting. Hopefully, by transforming myself into an eccentric character who uses toy bricks to tell subversive stories about local corruption, I can keep a good vibe going in the space I’m currently occupying.
Speaking of using toy bricks to tell stories, I was amused to see how Lego is joining the mindless virtue-signalers for some easy PRIDE dollars.
As the political season heats up it’s going to be important for the virtue-signalers to maintain an anti-reality stance regarding what our eyes are clearly seeing. Whether it’s the senility of a sitting president, or the collapse of society, denying reality is the only way the left can succeed, and I think they know it.
If you appreciate my perspective on reality, as I experience it, on-the-ground, then please consider supporting Travis’ Impact Fund (TIF). Any little bit helps.
While domestic violence doesn’t happen in a vacuum, the stories of abuse you hear about in national media, like People magazine, are part of an industry, and last December I wrote a post titled When Grief Becomes An Industry No One Wins.
In that post I highlight a connection that was made between the mother of Rebekah Barsotti, a woman who disappeared and was found dead in the Clark Fork river, and the mother of Gabby Petito, Nichole Schmidt, as they both attempt to use their respective tragedies for positive social change.
When grief becomes an industry, the competition for your attention is in the driver’s seat, not truth or the desire for justice. I’m sure Nichole Shmidt thinks she is honoring her daughter’s memory by suing the Moab Police for 50 million dollars, but how is this BIG DOLLAR lawsuit going to improve the criminal justice response Schmidt claims SHOULD HAVE protected her daughter?
When this suit was filed at the end of 2022, this is what Gabby Petito’s mother had to say about it:
“We saw it as an opportunity to help other families,” said Schmidt. “We feel we need to bring justice because she could have been protected that day. There are laws put in place to protect victims and those laws were not followed.”
Allowing the grief industry to take hold and feed the many parasites who thrive in this environment provides a lucrative opportunity for grieving family members to blame other people and/or entities instead of taking any stock in how domestic violence is cyclical and often stems from the failure of parents to model healthy relationships for their kids.
I’m not trying to create a pass for law enforcement, but the reality is domestic violence (DV) situations are some of the most dangerous situations for law enforcement to be involved in, and even when interventions happen, women often return to their abusers, and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop that from happening.
Another aspect that cripples the criminal justice system is the misuse, or overuse, of civil protection orders. While I can’t get into specifics regarding my own case, one conversation I had with a paralegal gave me the anecdotal perspective that lawyers, during divorce proceedings, are increasingly suggesting orders of protection be filed, regardless of the merit, as a legal tactic. With litigation from grieving families as an added risk to consider when something bad happens, what judge is going to say NO to a civil order of protection from a woman claiming fear of a romantic partner?
The shitty, absent fathers who have daughters and fail to take care of them end up creating women with crippled self-esteem issues, and these women continue the negative cycle by gravitating toward pieces of shit, then procreating with them. And when certain factors are in place, like the physical attractiveness of the victim, the eventual tragic end to this common interpersonal dysfunction becomes fodder for True Crime leeches and other parasites.
How about we, as a society, stop doing this shit? Is that a possibility?
Podcasts have been made covering the case, news outlets worldwide are giving daily updates — it would seem the public’s incessant consumption of true crime is feeding a market need for new material at an increasingly ravenous pace. As of yesterday a Google search of Petito’s name returned over 41,000,000 hits, and between TikTok and Twitter, there are now well over a billion posts with her name as a hashtag.
What will all this attention produce, and why does Rebekah Barsotti’s mother, Angela Mastrovito, want to pursue a similar path by constructing a proper victim narrative, then using it to get laws made or changed?
To highlight what I’m talking about regarding a “proper victim narrative”, here’s a portion of Rebekah’s story from the website promoting change on her behalf (emphasis mine):
Rebekah Grace Rose Barsotti and her beloved dog Cerberus had escaped a marriage riddled with domestic violence. A Standing Order of No Contact was in place. Fleeing from the marital home in Superior, MT to Missoula, MT, they were picking up the pieces of their life to start anew. The only obstacle Rebekah thought she had to tackle was waiting Montana’s 180 day separation requirement before filing for divorce. That’s until she was lured back to Superior on July 20, 2021, to pick up the last of her personal belongings at a local Town Pump through a 3rd party caretaker to her estranged husband. This was the last time anyone saw Rebekah and Cerberus.
The emphasis of this part of the narrative depicting Rebekah as being LURED back to Superior neglects to detail the fact that drugs and drug paraphernalia were included in those personal belongings she returned to Superior to obtain. I’m not including this detail to victim-blame in any way, but to highlight how narratives must be crafted in certain ways if they are to compete in the national marketplace of misery porn.
Even worse, by relegating Rebekah’s story to the DV pile of misery porn narratives, a larger story is being missed, and that’s the story of how Sheriff Offices across Montana do double-duty as Coroners, and therefore have the power to control narratives from the very beginning by determining the cause and manner of death.
Rebekah Barsotti? Death by accident. Joey Thompson? Death by accident. And the larger question for a community experiencing these tragedies: what are we going to do about it?
I know what I’m doing about it, and I’m going to keep doing it despite the efforts of some troubled individuals to fit me into the abuser narrative. I don’t use the demographic calculations of an insidious industry to determine what to care and write about because that is just another form of narrative control, and it’s that kind of control I’m using my Weapon of Mass Instruction to educate my local community about one conversation at a time.
If you’d like to support my work, Travis’ Impact Fund (TIF) is one way to assist my efforts. Any little bit helps.
My working theory on yesterday’s breaking and pissing incident, which turned my vehicle into a temporary homeless bathroom, is that the culprit found my driver’s side door unlocked, got in, and pissed themselves after passing out. I like this theory because it removes malicious intent, which I assumed existed after seeing my shit strewn everywhere.
Instead of bothering law enforcement with this, I visited Lion’s Park and made a morning announcement yesterday to my homeless community about my vehicular piss problem and the reward I was offering for info leading to the culprit. When I returned to my spot I saw a dude on a bike and I explained the scenario, so we talked for a bit and guess what? He knew Johnny B before the Sheriff’s Office shot him in the back, and he even recognized Sean Stevenson, the man the Sheriff’s Office euthanized at St. Pat’s on January 5th, 2020.
Before discussing a second Pulp article about our Sheriff’s pathetic murder investigation into the bludgeoning death of 88 year old Delphine Farmer, I’d like to highlight my weekly op-ed at Western Montana News where this week I examine my homeless status from two distinct angles by asking the question Am I Broken Windows Or Am I Opportunity?
My bias is that I’m definitely an opportunity, and one of the reasons I’m an opportunity is because my background as a former service provider has made me VERY familiar with those living marginally in our community. The additional context I can bring to articles like this one about the violent murder of Delphine Farmer is a great example.
Here’s an excerpt from the link about some of the family surrounding Delphine Farmer:
Despite a detailed search-warrant narrative about what went down in Farmer’s house nearly two years ago, no charges have been filed. Two of Farmer’s children at home when she died were questioned and named in additional search warrants. Her son, Monty Field, blamed his sister, Diane Field, in a call to 911, the warrant says. According to a protective order filed on Diane’s behalf, she tells a different story.
Records show both siblings were questioned after deputies arrived on a Sunday afternoon and found Farmer bleeding on the floor, where she died. Search warrants indicate investigators collected DNA from the house and from both siblings.
Bridges says she believes Monty—her uncle—deserves a closer look, even though she’s not quite sure where he is now. He did not come to his mother’s memorial service at Missoula’s Northside Park, though her dad and both of her aunts were there, says Bridges. Her aunt Diane, who’s in her 70s, is deaf. Documents filed by the sheriff’s office describe her that way, too. Diane’s the oldest of Delphine’s six children—two preceded Delphine in death.
Delphine had Diane when she was just 14. Bridges says Diane had always lived with her mom and that now she lives with her sister, Debbie Maplethorpe, in Missoula. “In all those years of living together, there wasn’t this level of violence. And now this happens? It doesn’t make sense,” says Bridges.
The last name MAPLETHORPE jumped out at me for reasons I won’t get into now, and because of that I decided to see who Debbie might associate with. One easy way to start getting a sense of this is by checking out a person’s friends on Facebook. That’s how I discovered a young man profiled by the Missoulian last year was friends with a meth dealer who had been busted INSIDE the Authorized Camping Site run by the city.
What did I find when I scrolled through Debbie’s friends? I found this:
Kat Glover was pictured by the Missoulian almost exactly a year ago when Lion’s Park was being cleared of “urban camping” because of health and safety issues. Here’s the pic:
I provide these data points NOT to guilt-by-associate, but to show a wider swath of the social fabric these unsolved crimes exist in. While I’m glad Jule Banville is joining the really fun party I’ve been having these last 4 years of journalism-out-of-necessity, my “lived experience” at the forefront of raising the alarm has made me quite the target of those with more power and money than I have.
I wouldn’t be a TRASH ALCHEMIST, though, if I bitched and moaned about the trials and tribulations of my life, so here’s a song for this summer solstice/full moon about a puddle of pee. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you click on that op-ed I wrote for Western Montana News. Next week’s piece will be a special feature of Ellie Boldman for the Poverello’s 50th Anniversary day, a day I’m still trying to figure out what to do after the current director politicized a convenient corpse and my former program.
We may have had a cold, wet start to the sunny BIG SKY season in Western Montana, but my forecast for the near-future is things are about to get HOT, so donate to Travis’ Impact Fund (TIF) to ensure your dose of Zoom Chron keeps producing.
Thanks for reading!
UPDATE: the above song makes a reference to the extreme irony of my pee situation and a similar situation, sans pee, the Judge Eli Parker experienced on election night. Boy I wish I could say more, but that wouldn’t be advisable from someone in my legally tenuous situation.
Even if I had this joke of a car tent, I suspect whoever broke into my car this morning and rummaged through it would have still committed a property crime, but maybe they wouldn’t have had the time to whip their dick out and piss all over my driver’s seat.
Am I going to file a police report? Nope, that’s why targets like my car (not my box truck) are convenient targets for drug addicts and other pieces of shit who take what they want and fuck things up for everyone else. I’m not going to bring unnecessary attention to my sleep-spot by bugging cops I already don’t have a lot of trust in to tell me something I already know–the car should have been locked.
I thought I had locked my car, but clearly I didn’t, so after wiping up the piss and picking up some trash strewn outside my vehicle, I drove to my unofficial morning office downtown to write up this post.
Last week the challenge was getting a shower. My first option fell through, so I was going to pay the money to go to Currents, and I even checked to make sure they were still open at 7:15pm. The hours of operation said 8pm, so I got my shit and lugged it in, only to be told by the woman it was closed for a PRIVATE event.
Did I express my strong opinion about a facility built with public dollars being closed to the public because someone dropped a bunch of money for a fucking birthday party? Yes, yes I did, and I left a message on the supervisor’s voicemail as well. I bet she won’t forget to lock the door the next time someone pays to close down a public facility for private fun.
This is the second time someone has fucked with me at this location, the first being someone banging on the box in the middle of the night. Oh well, I guess this is just the reality of living marginally in an INCLUSIVE community like Missoula. Lesson learned.
If you would like to fund my reporting on the fun “lived experiences” of living out of motorized vehicles, donate to Travis’ Impact Fund (TIF). I think I’ll be buying some cans of Lysol soon.
