by Travis Mateer
If I can’t raise $300 dollars in the next two weeks, Zoom Chron will be downgraded and my ability to create new posts will be restricted, but that might not be a bad thing. I don’t think I’ll lose any content, except perhaps the post recently purchased by a Fidler.
Here’s one of the communication’s I got from the punk who fucked around and found out:
Did “Diane” stop contacting me? Nope, I woke up this morning to the following email in my inbox from “David”:
Does someone have a Daddy with money to buy domains and lawyers with? It’s almost like I’m dealing with Hunter Biden, the piece of shit who America was told wasn’t going to be pardoned before HIS daddy, Joe, gave him a pardon for an entire decade of criminal activity.
Since I don’t have the resources to defend myself against MORE legal attacks, I guess the post that got purchased will have to come down. Will that make this Fidler happy, or does EVERY POST I write featuring his handsome face warrant a purchase and a legal threat?
I don’t know, let’s find out.
When I was Francis’ age and attending college, my good friend, Lisa, was hit and killed by a drunk driver. Francis is lucky he didn’t kill anyone, because that’s a lot harder to disappear than a blog post after a night partying and trying to use your vehicle as a weapon to run over another person with, all while calling me POOR like my financial status was offensive to this adorable little college student.
I am poor, Francis, but I’m not dead, like my friend Lisa, though I’m sure there are a few people in this town who wished I was, like the CrossFit trainer who thought texting me on Thanksgiving morning was a good time to start communicating with his girlfriend’s ex-husband.
Tonight, at City Council, the urban camping dumpster fire will continue burning, but I won’t be there, in person, to listen and write about it because lawfare is a very effective tactic, especially when you have a professional victim willing to perjure herself on the stand to stop you from doing what her friend and employer, Susan Hay Patrick, wants. It’s pretty disgusting, but I have no choice but to take it and hope the truth will win out, eventually.
Until then I will just keep writing, though not much of my new project, titled THE ART OF MOVING ON, will be published here, like my retelling of the Biblical story about Daniel and the lions, which is fucking hilarious. It’s even MORE hilarious when you know that a pastor with that same name talked about Daniel and the lions last Sunday at the church I once attended. That pastor should familiar himself with Montana law, specifically this part:
The posting will continue to be light for this last month of 2024 due to my need to write my own legal briefs and parenting plan amendments so that my ex, who didn’t think the language of the plan needed to apply to her, understands that some words DO still matter, and though husbands and boyfriends may come and go, fathers are forever.
I was at a coffee shop the other day and a group of young people saw Santa biking by outside, so they waved. When I saw Santa, I didn’t wave, because I had just read up on his criminal history the previous day, and it’s absolutely horrible.
But, here’s the thing I’ve discovered about Missoula: this town DOES NOT WANT TO KNOW what’s actually going on in the dark corners, so I should probably act accordingly, That means NOT writing about the homeless woman who was murdered and decapitated by the river, a brutal and violent act that hardly anyone knows about because it was never reported. The killer was pursued by authorities, but committed suicide before he could be arrested, so the whole thing was swept under the proverbial rug.
I only know about this murder because I have GOOD CONTACTS who keep me informed about the town my kids are growing up in, and this atrocious act of violence was mentioned to me the other day, at work, by a co-worker who also knew about it.
Another act of violence that occurred occurred this summer in a vehicle I sold a woman so that she could get the fuck out of Montana. Unfortunately, she returned, and her brother allegedly shot her in the stomach during an argument near the river.
When I was contacted by a Detective this summer because of something I wrote (my felony charge), I thought maybe it was THIS incident I was being called about, but NO. Local law enforcement doesn’t care about my knowledge regarding acts of violences and suspicious deaths, like Joey Thompson’s, but they DEFINITELY care about being the personal security force for my politically connected ex-girlfriend.
Since I now understand this town demands ignorance and shitty media outlets in order to maintain the delusion of a mountain paradise where tourists feel safe to spend money, I don’t expect my plea for funds to keep this blog active will be well received, so it’s a good thing I don’t really give a shit anymore, since I know nothing can actually stop me from writing. All these various cowards can do is temporarily restrict who is able to see my words as I write them.
If you have benefited from my perspective over the years, please consider making a donation to Travis’ Impact Fund (TIF), or don’t. I’ll deal with whatever outcome happens, because adapting to changing conditions is something I’ve gotten pretty good at doing.
Thanks for reading, y’all. I’m not finished with this space yet, so STAY TUNED!