I was talking to two city staff on the Higgins Bridge yesterday when the person who previously yelled at me from the window on NO KINGS day started yelling at me after walking by on the bridge.
This aggressive asshole is correct that I am NOT an ally of his movement or ANY movement because I don’t do that shit. Instead I refer to myself as a “hyper-localist” because it’s the best way for a citizen journalist to operate in a relatively small, VERY corrupt town.
What this means is I talk to people as PEOPLE and NOT as some cog in an astro-turfed distraction-op. If you want to ACT like a cog in an astro-turfed distraction-op, that’s up to you, but my patience is virtually non-existent for that waste of energy.
Readers of this blog know my energy is directed at corruption wherever I think it exists in this state and, with all the information I continue gathering using my signature echo-location style of shit-talking, this week’s post about some pretty sketchy law men inspired me to up my personal security.
Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you to Cyclops Luigi. Yeah, who’s gonna fuck with me now?
How retarded is Missoula?
Well, we are sending another politician to Harvard, we are scratching our head about who should “fix” the fake wave for surfers (meaning, who pays), we are hearing the multi-modal dumb-shits push for a downtown walking mall while at the same time hearing about the 100 million dollar pipe dream of a hotel while seeing more buildings go on the markets and the parking Nazis lusting for parking meters to murder the Hip Strip.
To the discerning eye, it would appear Missoula is terminally retarded.
Oh well. At least there will be expensive music and lots of people forcing their fun from whatever liquid and/or drug form they can find.
Happy fucking birthday, America!