Month: January 2025

by Travis Mateer

After just ONE year directing the flailing Missoulian, editor Steve Kiggins is gone. Why? Lee Enterprises doesn’t comment on personnel matters. To get THAT story, Skiggy would need to come clean himself about why he couldn’t hack it.

Who is going to curate the stories that shape the thinking of the dozen or so people who actually READ our local newspaper? These young, fierce looking professionals. Be afraid, news, be VERY afraid.

Let’s let the corporate rag introduce these new leaders to the dwindling news reporting team that struggles to find relevancy in a media world mistrusted by the public I had to recently agree with Jeff Bezos, which was gross. Here’s the intro (emphasis mine):

The Missoulian newspaper has named two veteran staff members to leadership positions.

Laura Scheer has been promoted from city editor to editor, and Anne Cruikshank has been promoted from statewide digital editor to city editor.

Scheer has worked at the Missoulian since 2016, starting out as an assistant news editor working with designers to produce the print edition. She transitioned into reporting, covering arts and entertainment, as well as local K-12 schools and the University of Montana, before being named city editor in March 2021. Scheer graduated from the University of Montana’s graduate journalism program in 2015 and has lived in Missoula since 2013.

“I’ve been part of the Missoulian staff for almost 10 years now, and I feel incredibly lucky to be able to lead such a talented and dedicated group of journalists,” Scheer said. “We remain committed to the truth and serving as a watchdog over our community, which feels more important than ever.”

I’m glad our corporate rag remains committed to the truth because for awhile there I wasn’t so sure. If you’re curious about why I would have any uncertainty about the accuracy of local reporting, here are some articles of mine worth checking out:

Is This What Missoula Current Advertisers Want To Be Paying For? (May 18th, 2023)

You Want A “Political Extremist”, Missoulian? (October 16th, 2023)

Are You Ready For The Weekend In Double-Standard Town? (May 19th, 2023)

In that last article I show how another local media platform run by a former Missoulian “reporter” (also, former Montana Democrat spokesperson) stealth edited their false reporting after an incident before City Council where I was accused of IMPUGNING the integrity of the director of the homeless shelter I once worked at.

Here’s the stealth editing and my reporting on the bullshit reporting from that post:

I know what you’re thinking. Travis, you’re thinking, you need to run out and file a defamation case against these news organizations that make money off of their shit reporting IMMEDIATELY.

Sure, that sounds like a great idea, but my cursory exploration of that option with one lawyer who likes to get headlines now and then indicated I was too locally famous to have a chance at successful litigation. While my ego liked that answer, my pocket book DID NOT.

I don’t mean to be harsh in my initial assessment of new editors to make local law enforcement more willing to share information when something goes down, but if Skiggy was a bad sign, I’d say this new move is even MORE discouraging, at least to me, and that’s because there are still things I know, but don’t write about, that gives me GREAT PAUSE about what’s going on behind the quiet blue line.

Take, for example, the death of Brendan Galbreath. I’ll link to a Montana Free Press article because what happened with this supposed “self-inflicted” death got the attention of more than just Missoula’s news audience.

After days of confusion and minimal statements from law enforcement, state investigators have initially attributed the death of 21-year-old Brendon Galbreath to a self-inflicted gunshot wound.

Missoula Police Department Chief Jaeson White said Galbreath’s family, who transported his body on Sunday to his hometown of Browning, had been notified of the preliminary findings. Galbreath’s brother, Terrance LaFromboise, did not immediately respond to a request for comment.

Galbreath died in the early hours of Aug. 12, after a traffic stop by Missoula police officers spiralled into a car chase with a tragic end.

The department initially released news of Galbreath’s death in the context of an officer-involved shooting, describing a scene in which both the driver and a police officer fired weapons. At the time, the department did not clarify which bullet struck and wounded the man, citing an ongoing investigation the department requested from the Division of Criminal Investigation within the state Department of Justice.

In a joint video statement released Monday by the Missoula Police Department and DCI, state Division Administrator Bryan Lockerby said the preliminary investigation “strongly indicates” that Galbreath died by suicide.

I won’t get into the specifics about why this story popped back on my radar, because it’s part of the unpublished research I’m doing using synchronicities as a guide, so disclosing those mechanics, for a general audience, well, I don’t want to unnecessarily stir stuff up, but I will say it’s the relationship of Galbreath’s Human Rights Club in Browning to the Friends of Sidwell School in D.C. that got my attention, because it’s that connection that produced this image:

For context on that prestigious school, here’s a little info from Wikipedia:

The school has educated children of notable politicians, including those of several presidents. President Theodore Roosevelt’s son Archibald, President Richard Nixon’s daughters Tricia and Julie, President Bill Clinton’s daughter Chelsea Clinton, President Barack Obama’s daughters Sasha and Malia, President Joe Biden’s grandchildren when he was Vice President and Vice President Al Gore’s son, Albert Gore III, graduated from Sidwell Friends.

I’ll leave it there, for now.

If you appreciate my citizen journalism, then monetary support is ALWAYS needed, and one way to do that is by donating to Travis’ Impact Fund (TIF). Any little bit helps.

Thanks for reading!

by Travis Mateer

My original intent in attending the Water Watchdog event last night–put on by the Clark Fork Coalition–wasn’t to assess how worried non-profits suddenly are after Trump’s federal money freeze dropped, but that was one of the first questions an eager Water Pup asked after the three person panel stopped torturing us with Legislative updates.

What I had hoped to do was listen for any indication the non-profit I once collaborated with on homeless camp cleanups was still interested in protecting the river from THAT threat, and if that topic wasn’t broached, my next hope was to inject it like a shot of meth into their Patagonia-encased energy fields, but I didn’t get that opportunity. Darn!

For those interested in some visceral visuals, here’s a seven minute video of the VERY negative impacts of “urban camping” that continued to happen after the Clark Fork Coalition pulled out of doing this kind of work for PR political reasons.

https://vimeo.com/702019513

Since the “urban campers” didn’t let up on destroying their proximal environment by establishing fairly well-organized meth colonies anywhere retarded local officials could point to some other jurisdiction to avoid blame, I continued doing the hard work of cleaning up after them with citizens like Kevin, who stepped up to fill the vacuum created by malignantly compromised local influencers and non-profit leaders, like Susan Hay Patrick.

The acceptable risks the neutered audience last night got pats on the head for caring about are the remnants of extractive industry, like a proposed mine on the Smith river, corporate malfeasance, like the waste left behind at Smurfit-Stone just down stream of Missoula, and Held vs. Montana. If you haven’t heard about HELD, well, it was probably the BIGGEST topic of conversation last night, especially from the perspective of Montana Public Radio’s propagandist, Ellis, who couldn’t stop talking about it.

For a quick summary about how lawyers are exploiting youth, fear, and Montana’s progressive state constitution guaranteeing a clean environment, here’s the Wikipedia entry:

Held v. Montana is a constitutional court case in the State of Montana regarding the right to a “clean and healthful environment in Montana for present and future generations” as required by the Constitution of Montana. The case was filed in March 2020 by Our Children’s Trust on behalf of sixteen youth residents of Montana, then aged 2 through 18. On June 12, 2023, the case became the first climate-related constitutional lawsuit to go to trial in the United States.

After developing a strong allergy to fear and propaganda, I wrote posts like this one actually examining the forces behind the children in this case, and I was quite unimpressed with how those forces were trying to create little Montana Greta Thunbergs.

While it’s just a hunch, I suspect organizations like the Clark Fork Coalition have already been hit with less involvement and less money after trying to minimize the impacts of homeless camps five years ago, which I believe is the last time this organization has said anything significant in the media about urban camping, which has gotten MUCH worse and widespread since then.

From the link (emphasis mine):

Although the homeless camp seems to be large in the eyes of our community, the Clark Fork Coalition says its only one blip on the map when it comes to river concerns.

“Overall impacts to the river — these homeless encampments don’t have us sounding the urgent alarm bells in terms of water quality,” said Knudsen.

For several years, the Clark Fork Coalition worked in the area of the homeless camp to clean up the river banks. Now, thanks to collaborative efforts, other groups are doing the work.

It is simply AMAZING to me how non-profit narrative controllers do their nasty control work for each other. In the above example, Karen Knudsen is pretending like some other group was waiting in the wings to clean nasty homeless trash instead of the actual reality, which is that the Clark Fork Coalition ABANDONED the relationship I worked hard to establish because of ONE bad piece of press from the fucking Missoulian. Because of this abandonment, citizens like Kevin took ACTUAL RISKS by doing this work, risks I chose to ignore, which earned me the lawfare/character assassination smear campaign I’m still currently fighting.

For even MORE exciting local footage of my unique approach to handling urban meth colonies, here’s a 30 minute video I made a few springs ago when I discovered an extensive meth-den buildout right on the banks of the Clark Fork River, just behind that biotech company currently developing Fentanyl vaccines.

https://vimeo.com/821448479

If you appreciate all this amazing work I’ve done, and sympathize with how it’s rendered me a broke-ass problem for the entire power structure of this retarded town, please consider throwing me a digital dollar or two at Travis’ Impact Fund (TIF).

Thanks for reading!

by Travis Mateer

It’s painful to watch what Montana Republicans are doing with their political power right now, but I fully expected it. After trying to get these idiots to understand Tax Increment Financing’s role in exacerbating the property tax driven housing crisis during the last legislative session, I can personally attest that the supposed conservative ideal of fiscal conservatism is as real in Helena as a Unicorn.

Just because little girls believe in Unicorns that doesn’t make them real. Similarly, just because Montana Republicans believe America’s crisis exists almost solely in bathrooms and transgender-pushing doctor’s offices, that doesn’t mean it’s true. But just try and get these twats to care about anything else and see how successful you are.

Am I being a smidgen unfair?

It IS true that other things are happening, like pretending to address the MMIP crisis with money, and this is getting some national attention thanks to the spotlight seeking behavior of a shitty and/or corrupt Detective known locally as GAY BIKER. Detective Baker was recently eating up some attention at the Roxy in Missoula over the unsolved case of a Native women who really knew how to apply her makeup, according to the chaplain of the Missoula County Sheriff’s Office, Lowell Hochhalter.

I’m of course talking about Jermain Charlo, and I’m not the only one. After the 48 Hours tv attention, which Gay Biker is expertly milking, all those women who comprise a healthy percentage of the lucrative TRUE CRIME market are ALSO talking about Jermain Charlo.

The panel consisted of family members, investigators, and 48 Hours producer, Stephen McCain.

“We have been looking to do an MMIW story for years,” McCain said.

The group shared updates on the case with Detective Guy Baker telling the crowd that when the program originally aired, it led to several leads.

The special was released in October, but the family believes its continued exposure could lead to a break in the case.

Would it be helpful to share some of my own qualitative data from the field tests I’ve done recently with my Lego Detectives at local watering holes? Ok then.

What initially appears to be a ruse in order for a divorced man to talk to women in a bar setting quickly turns into valuable data about which Lego Detective figure they think will SOLVE THE CASE in my Lego world, the stern brunette or smiling blonde. What kind of case, I’m sometimes asked, then I mention Jermain’s name and almost everyone I’ve talked to knows exactly who I’m talking about.

Before the Sean Stevenson case and what happened to Johnny Lee Perry, and before the “accidental deaths” of Rebekah Barsotti, and Joey Thompson, and I’m sure Eva Prather, and that 22 year old woman found dead in the woods, I had more respect for what law enforcement was dealing with when it came to the overlapping worlds of illicit drugs and homelessness, but it’s hard to remind myself of all the good cops I interacted with when working at the shelter as more and more evidence comes my way of serious badge complicity in some seriously bad shit.

Take this seemingly dumb asshole with a badge from Mineral County as an example of what badges in Big Sky Country think they can do because, well, who is going to stop them? Sheriff fucking Funke? Austin I WANNA BE GOVERNOR Knudsen? Yeah, right.

Thanks to Reddit and technology, we get to see how Eric assumes he can roll in Missoula at local drinking establishments. And, thanks to the courage that comes with anonymity, the birdies on Reddit get wonderfully specific about the quality of character employed by our western neighbors in Mineral County.

For more official context, here’s Monte Turner reporting on the hiring of Lindauer in 2021 (emphasis mine):

Eric Lindauer is the most recent deputy that has been hired for Mineral County and he has a running start. 

“I think a strong advantage that I have is that I know the ins and outs of the jail procedures as well as working side by side with dispatch for a year. I think that will help me immensely in the field,” he said. 

Lindauer has worked as a county detention Officer and already knows the staff, equipment and procedures inside the sheriff’s office. 

Now as a deputy, he’ll be the complete deal. 

Hilarious.

Before I came to understand how seriously MISSOULA police take non-functioning headlights and Cannabis impairment, I hoped the badge problems in Big Sky Country were more policy-based than people, but I’ve really had to up my expectation of interlocking fuckery afoot, especially after experiencing a trial where the chief prosecutor for the city blatantly lied in her closing statement, not to mention the body-camera footage clearly showing my arresting officer muting his audio after the other cop asked about a stalking charge they were trying to cook up against me at the time, which never materialized (footage my Public Defender never showed the jury).

All this said, the benefit of having truth on one’s side is that it does figuratively enlarge one’s gonads, which is physiologically defined, if you didn’t know, as the organ the produces gametes, which appears to include both testis AND ovaries, so INCLUSIVE!

Being inclusive is important, since I think all kinds of people are at risk with this corrupt local power structure willing and capable of exerting impressive resources when its grip on narrative control is threatened, and that’s precisely what I’ve been doing, in a variety of ways, since I pushed send on the email at Missoula Aging Services on the exact day Sean Stevenson was allegedly assaulted by, according to the official story, just one man in a miraculous rear-naked chokehold that produced impossible bruising all over Sean’s lifeless body.

Now that I’m free from the expectation that this Cartoon Clown World functions the way the bedtime stories tell us it’s supposed to, I’m free to create my own world, which is what any writer does, but I’m not sure many writers use an interlocking plastic brick system to provide such a wondrous backdrop to their “fictional” lore.

If you appreciate all this content, and if you have NEVER donated before, now would be a GREAT time, since I wasn’t able to upload a video that this still image above is taken from, and that’s probably, I’m assuming, because my Vimeo bill is due soon, so if you have funds to send my way, Travis’ Impact Fund (TIF) is one way to do it.

Thanks for reading!

by Travis Mateer

When I was pulled over by Missoula PD last year for having just one functioning headlight I didn’t think the night would end with me in handcuffs in the back of the police cruiser listening to shitty rap music, but I had underestimated how badly the city of Missoula wanted to legally fuck me.

My first indication this arrest was more than just a bored cop smelling weed and doing a power flex came AFTER the esteemed rap artist said FUCK THE POLICE through the cop car speakers. After that delightful synchronicity the cop asked me if I knew I was trespassed from the Double Tree Hotel, to which I replied NO. Well, said the officer, it says here in your “jacket” to inform you that you are no longer allowed on the property of the Double Tree Hotel.

Jacket? What kind of bad cop tv show is this, I remembered thinking to myself. Later, after my mommy came to spring me from the clink, I looked up the jail slang this weed-sniffing cop used. Here’s what my AI overview told me:

The Double Tree Hotel property is where I was arrested on tax day for violating an order of protection. This violation occurred NOT because I saw or interacted with my petitioner in any way. No, the violation, which was successfully prosecuted against me earlier this month, occurred because I didn’t leave fast enough after being told by Eric Levgold, who works at United Way, that my petitioner WOULD BE attending the event. If I remained in the parking lot with my “urban camping” trash removal display, then I would be within 1,500 feet of my unseen petitioner, and that’s what happened.

This protective order violation was the second I had been charged with. The first one, which the city completely dismissed, occurred outside City Council, and the cop who walked me away from the Council doors AFTER my petitioner arrived was NOT the cop who ticketed me. My petitioner was somehow able to convince a cop THE NEXT DAY to ticket me with a violation, so I didn’t learn of this charge until I appeared in front of a judge, an appearance I asked for myself in order to get clarification about MY rights to attend public meetings.

The second indication I got that my Marijuana DUI charge was an overt attempt to gain more leverage against me in the broader lawfare assault on my Constitutional FREE SPEECH protections came when the dumb city attorney actually used the DUI charge AS leverage in an offer that would have had me plead guilty to the order of protection violation so that the DUI would go away. This move surprised my Public Defender, who I didn’t know at the time had never tried a case all by himself before, so maybe his surprise was just naiveté regarding the tactics of lawfare.

Since the entire protective order was a farce established by a SUBSTITUTE judge who denied my objection to the fact he went to law school with my petitioner, then denied my request for a postponement so that I would have more time to find a lawyer to help me defend myself from the accusations made by my former creative collaborator and brief romantic partner, I was becoming VERY familiar with the tactic of lawfare and character assassination I had been dealing with for an entire year. That’s what gave me the confidence to say NO to each progressively improving plea deal.

If the cop was serious about proving my alleged impairment, he would have gotten a warrant and forced a blood draw at the hospital, but he didn’t do that because, I suspect, he knew he didn’t have to. If the leverage didn’t work out (it didn’t), the next assumption was that I would eagerly say YES to a plea offer, but I just kept saying NO, even when my own Public Defender started getting insistent, then annoyed, that I kept refusing every improving signal from the city they didn’t have a case.

I mean, how could I NOT accept a no insurance charge and single headlight charge in lieu of the FEAR a DUI should have instilled in me? I would have to be CRAZY, right?

I did soften my stance slightly when I emailed my Public Defender and said I would accept the offer if it came with an apology from the cop for arresting me and subjecting me to his terrible rap music, but I’m not sure that suggestion was taken seriously, so the next day I arrived bright and early a few minutes before 9am and waited. And waited. Then waited some more.

The hearing was a “jury instruction” hearing, and my lawyer was physically present, as was I. The city attorneys were on the floor just above us, so while we waited I told another public defender that it would be REALLY COOL if there was a hole in the ceiling, and a pole, so the lawyers could slide down like fire fighters. Hey, I suggested, maybe the city could use Tax Increment Financing to make this awesome improvement?

I was showing my joy over this process because part of my working theory about me living in this retarded town is that any time I exhibit joy over something, it is quickly taken from me. So there I was, enjoying the idea of having an audience (a jury) and an archivist documenting my brilliant words (a clerk recorder) as I recounted my hilarious DUI odyssey, including a deep dive into House Bill 701 regarding body fluid tests being crap and not adequate for court, according to our own Montana Department of Justice. And, of course, the rap song that dropped N-bombs like drone strikes on foreign poors.

The legal game of lawfare on that glorious Friday morning turned into a waiting game as the judge, the defenders, and the handsome citizen journalist all waited for the city attorney to show up. When a tall, nervous guy finally appeared, I quickly learned his nervousness was due to NOT being my prosecutor, and having NO IDEA where that prosecutor was.

I have to commend this guy, he did his very best to find the figurative strap-on dildo with with to fuck me with (jury instructions), but for some strange reason, after floundering around for a few minutes, he found NOTHING, and had to admit he KNEW NOTHING about my case, and would have to, therefore, move to DISMISS THE WHOLE ENCHILADA!

And that’s when the judges said I was free to leave.

On my way out of Marsupial Court I saw the granddaughter of old H.G Merriam, so I made a comment about the quality use of tax dollars I just witnessed with the city’s professional attorneys, but Ginny must have been in a hurry to get to an important meeting because she quickly scurried out of the building when she heard by joyful voice make joyful noises about her staff of kangaroos.

Hopefully the city isn’t TOO sad about this loss because it really wasn’t much of a loss, when you think about it. The suspension of my driver’s license is STILL in effect because, I learned too late, I only had 30 days to challenge that little dildo move by the cop/vampire when he demanded my blood. Also, since the COUNTY was still displaying mugshots for that mugshot extortion racket at the time, I had this lovely pic get displayed for all to see, including the staff at my kids’ school where my Tango-dancing ex-wife works.

Financially, this lawfare is brutal, not to mention the social impacts. I’ve had to endure. For example, I just obtained a text message, sent by a City Council member to a constituent who publicly defended me, and in this text message the Council member makes VERY SERIOUS accusations against me that have NEVER been charged.

While I consider my next legal moves, there is one more case I’m facing, in either District Court or Justice Court, that stems from my petitioner’s weaponization of the protective order that the substitute judge who knew her granted her. Through the discovery process I have learned that local authorities have been contacted by my petitioner over a dozen times as she attempts to do anything possible to destroy me, including contacting our mutual friend who I made the Engen documentary with, and who wrote this article about last spring’s urban camp trash removal controversy, which I got directly involved in after YEARS of successfully coordinating trash cleanups at homeless camps in my capacity as the Homeless Outreach Coordinator for the Poverello Center.

Lawfare is a marathon, so I’m doing my best to pace myself as I struggle to stay grounded, but it’s been absolute hell, as intended. If you’d like to help me out financially, Travis’ Impact Fund (TIF) is one way to do it. Or, if anyone needs a slightly “lived-in” box truck, I know one that needs to be sold yesterday.

Thanks for reading!

by Travis Mateer

There is a very interesting dynamic in local news right now that creates a fascinating juxtaposition, and the juxtaposition is this: sexual violence directed toward women is BAD in real life, but it’s ART if put on the big screen and made by a director like David Lynch.

Does fame retard regular people’s critical thinking skills? It seems so. If you are famous and/or wealthy, you get special words to describe your relative depravities, words like ECCENTRIC. For the rest of us, it wouldn’t be cool to have your daughter write incest scenes for a fictional journal about a character you created, but that’s just because we’re not David Lynch.

While I’m doing interesting research in the vein of Dave McGowan, local media people have piled on their predictable words in the coattail-grabbing effort to proudly claim David Lynch for our little Mountain Town. For example, here’s Jule Banville, the journalist and UM professor who has come the closest to calling out the bitch-ass Sheriff’s Office in Missoula for being puffed up badges incapable of actually catching Grandma killers.

With that context in mind, here’s Banville gushing over Lynch’s artistic life:

A few years ago at the Roxy, I saw “David Lynch: The Art of Life,” a documentary based on audio recordings Lynch agreed to make after having a daughter late in life and feeling wistful. It’s so moving and gorgeous. I think about it all the time.

Unlike Jule Banville, what I think about all the time is narrative control, and under that umbrella I have to wonder what the stories that comprise our fucked up culture are actually doing to us, stories like the fragmented Lost Highway, where part-time Montana resident, Bill Pullman, plays his role, as does the musician, Marilyn Manson.

If I watched this movie as a teenager I didn’t remember much of it beyond Patricia Arquette’s tits, but this time around I actually watched the movie all the way through (a slog) in order to see and understand that the brief clip of the porn film being watched near the end of the movie isn’t just any kind of porn, but a snuff film.

Which brings me to the musical artist, John Denver.

How could I possibly use a snuff film to segue to a folk singer who most people will think of as that hippie with round glasses singing Rocky Mountain High? Well, I’m gonna grease this segue with Hunter S. Thompson and that amazing researcher I mentioned, Dave McGowan, because without HIS work (Dave’s) I would never have understood how incongruent an image can be with the reality lurking behind it.

The connection Hunter S. Thompson has to John Denver is the town they both resided in for many years, the mountain town of Aspen, Colorado. While Thompson notoriously attempted an electoral takeover of the Sheriff’s Office, Denver’s time in Aspen was significantly LESS notorious, though I did get an interesting anecdote from a musician I spoke with on the phone a few days ago.

I’ll keep his name anonymous for now, but you might be able to find his blog post about John Denver, since there isn’t much online about the angle I was sniffing around for (more on that later). After reading his post and finding a phone number, I cold-called the guy and got a generous portion of his time and perspective on a man not many people understand is much more broadly talented and fascinating than his public image allows.

Not only did John Denver live in Aspen, his middle name was also, allegedly, Aspen, though I haven’t confirmed that yet with a second source. Names, though, are VERY important to me, to the point of being a borderline psychiatric condition. When I explain this Denver rabbit hole, though, you might shift from asking yourself if I’m crazy to a broader, more appropriate question: WHAT THE FUCK IS EVEN REAL?

The reason I called the anonymous musician was to ask him a question, and the question I asked him was whether or not he knew anything about John Denver’s participation in the Ten Outstanding Young Americans program, or TOYA for short. His quick answer? No, he did not know anything about this relatively obscure program.

Why did I know about it?

Well, for anyone who has read my shit for the last few years can attest, my obsessive focus on local power dynamics has grown so aggressive and hyperbolic that multiple tentacles have slithered from the shadows to figuratively strangle me, but part of my resolve to resist comes from the fact that what I am looking into with my research places an artist like John Denver, and a politician by the name of Bill Clinton, who, you know, became President, into THE SAME CLASS as Dr. Kenneth Stevenson, a man of fascinating distinction himself, which I won’t get into detail for this piece because I don’t have the time.

What I WILL detail is my admiration for the work of Dave McGowan because his work identified the curious pattern of familial connections MANY counter culture figures had to the military, figures like Jim Morrison, Mama Cass, John Philips, Jimi Hendrix, and on and on. For John “Deutschendorf” Denver, born in ROSWELL, New Mexico, it was his father, Captain Henry John “Dutch” Deutschendorf Sr. who was an Army Air Force pilot.

The anecdote I got from the anonymous musician was a story about John Denver getting a little flak from the locals in Aspen during the 70’s oil crisis after he visibly stockpiled gasoline in giant, above-ground tanks on his property. Since John Denver was ALSO a pilot, like his father, and actually DIED in a small air plane accident, it makes sense he would do this, but how many locals understood John Denver’s background as a flyboy military brat?

While I’ve written about my own grandpa’s death in a similar small plane accident, the synchronicity twofer that hit me like a truck involves an actual truck hitting an actual person, a person I ironically worked with at a restaurant called FOOD FOR THOUGHT. Don’t worry, I think DENVER is going to be alright, but he was on his way to the retarded Capitol of Big Sky politics when a truck took him down. Sad.

Denver was just getting into Democrat politics back when I worked at Food For Thought, and I was no where near being the public enemy I am now. Denver, I would say, was the personification of MR. SMITH GOES TO WASHINGTON back then, a movie based on the Montana politician, Burton K. Wheeler, and Wheeler is the name of the Lego police chief from a Lego set I just built a few days ago for a Lego world where I put Agent Cooper’s face just days before David Lynch died.

No one disagrees, when I tell them, that I may suffer from some kind of information sickness. I think it’s probably because of how frequently I, as a grown-ass adult, talk about Legos.

Right next to an old FCC license in my Lego world, which I took a picture of, is a building I cut out from a postcard. Is this building a Denver building? Of course it is, just like the other Lego set I acquired is a Jazz club, the kind I imagine Bill Pullman’s character was playing the saxophone in, since David Lynch is one of these image-conjurers I’ve chosen to graft my unique critical eye onto.

To emphasize how hilarious all this must be to the audience I have to imagine is watching me from some other esoteric realm, the song now playing, as I write this, is by a different John, Johnny Cash, specifically the song A Legend In My Own Time, followed by Beastie Boys doing Something’s Got To Give.

All an illusion? Jesus Christ indeed, boys.

Next week I’ll be writing up my final report on my Marijuana DUI, which was just officially dismissed this morning, along with my “no insurance” charge AND a charge the city slipped in at the last second for having only one functioning headlight, which had previously been just a warning.

Why were ALL the charges dismissed in my case this morning? That’s a great question, since the plan had been to dismiss JUST the DUI, but for some reason the city prosecutor on my case DIDN’T SHOW UP TO COURT this morning, so the other city prosecutor had to try and legally fuck me on the fly, but, without knowing anything about how the previous prosecutor had been trying to fuck me, he had to contend the city had filed ZERO jury instructions in my case, and therefore they would have to dismiss ALL the charges.

I agree with the Beastie Boys, something had to give, and it did.

If you appreciate the unique take I have on popular culture, narrative control, and how to fight back, then consider donating to Travis’ Impact Fund (TIF) because the lawfare against me ain’t over yet, but today is a BIG victory for me.

Thanks for reading!