Memorials

This caught my eye the other day while I walked through Helena, Montana. A historical marker on a parking structure. It kind of ranks up there on my list of things such as "City halls in mini-malls" and drive-thru liquor stores as hallmarks of American culture. And that is all that can be said about that...

Plucking the Oregon Ducks

Rarely do I post my views on current events on this blog, but today, I just feel like an one of those curmudgeons who should.

I am not a fan of professional sports. And I could care less about the state of collegiate sports. In fact, I find college sports to be more corrupt than the professional organizations and I think that our nations obsession with such things is stupid and an waste of money and time. That said, I find humor in the recent heat that Oregon Duck's coach Chip Kelly finds himself in for a potential breach of NCAA rules. 

So what? So the team has a potentially corrupt coach. Big deal when it seems to be a home to thugs arrested on a regular basis. 

Let's run this down over the past two years:

January 25th, 2010: Masoli one of two Ducks accused in theft

February 17th, 2010:  LaMichael James, Oregon Ducks Running Back, Arrested for Menacing, Strangulation, Assault

February 20th, 2010 Oregon football: Kiko Alonso cited for DUII

March 5th 2010: DA: They thought, 'This guy needs a knuckle sandwich

June 9th, 2010: Springfield police cite Masoli for pot, driving infractions

April 18th, 2011: Backup Duck QB pleads not guilty.

May 6th, 2011:  Oregon football: Kiko Alonso pleads guilty, gets probation, community service.

June 13th, 2011: Oregon’s Cliff Harris cited for nearly doubling 65-mph speed limit.


While one can make the claim of bad eggs on the team, and some of these players were rightfully suspended, and a few kicked off the team, there seems to be a culture of stupidity and thuggery on this team. I really don't think any college team is exempt. 


So what can be done? If I rant and bitch without proposing a solution, then I am just a whiner. So here is what I think should happen. Aside from removing all athletics from the academic arena, given that they really don't apply to the scholastic achievements of other students. (How many of these college athletes actually attain degrees? And how many resources are wasted on them?...Argument for another day.) But here is what I think should happen.


For each arrest of the college team member, for any reason, the team should drop in the ranking and thus be excluded from any "Insert-Stupid-Name-Here Bowl Game." I also think that coaches should be fined for the conduct of their players. The coaches and athletic directors earn ridiculous amounts of money, why not make them pay, or force them to contribute to something worthwhile, like domestic abuse shelters.  And finally, just kick players off teams if they get arrested. Forget suspension, one-strike you're out. If you were stupid enough to get arrested for something, you probably shouldn't have been doing it in the first place.


And that is my nerd vs. jock rant of the day. 

Sources: msnbc.com, cbsnews.com, oregonlive.com, katu.com

I'm in Jail...

There are certain hazards to going to museums build in former county jails.  If you touch the wrong display, you could end up incarcerated overnight, locked up by an elderly volunteer who will regale you with stories of the town's history and strange anecdotes that make little sense.

You see, that is what happened to me, when I visited the Gallatin County Museum and Historical Society. While taking a picture of Montana agates, I must have pissed off someone, because, after a quick jab to the head, I blacked out and found myself here.

 

At first I was disoriented. Left with a tin cup, I rattled it against the bars of my cell until they finally gave me confinement that had a bathroom. And man did I need it. But let's not discuss those details. 

 

There I met my cellmates, "Bad Hair" Wally and a particularly stiff figure who only called himself, "Tan." I thought Tan and I would get along great, because, well I he sounded like he had an Asian name, just like me. But he didn't move to much. Neither did Bad Hair Wally. They just laid there on their bunks while I was forced to sleep on the hard concrete floor for the night. 

 

Turns out Tan was a ground squirrel smuggler. He had been wanted in Big Sky for many months for ruining their golf courses by bringing hundreds of ground squirrels to the greens which dug up the golf course making it virtually impossible for all of the wealthy tourists to do anything except drive around in golf carts and complain about how their taxes were too high.  Bad Hair Wally is the most notorious wig thief west of Billings known for stealing wigs off the heads of cancer patients and octo-genenarian church going women. I am not certain why they were so quiet, so sedate, but I thought it had to do with the food the museum/jail volunteer tried to feed us. I refused to eat any because, well, I didn't want to end up like them. 

I knew I had to plan my escape.

Fortunately, I could see a display within reach of my cells containing all the keys. I thought they might be the means for me to break free and get Tan and Wally out as well. 

Being a museum first and jail second, everything was properly labeled, and so I knew that when I saw this display from my cell, I was closer to salvation. Using ninja skills, I honed in the alleyways of Portland, I deftly gathered the keys and unlocked my cell. Wally and Tan, refused to move. Stockholm syndrome had taken effect during this time in the Bozeman museum/jail. I can't blame them. The displays were so cute, so historic, so nicely presented. I could stay here for at least another hour as well. 

First things first, remove the shackles that confined me, and place them properly back in their display as if no one had known they were missing.

Second things second, contemplate arming myself incase the volunteer/warden had gathered reinforcements for my inevitable breakout. 

Finally...RUN!!!

And so I write this post on the lam. A rogue group of volunteer historians have been seeking me out using small lap dogs and GPS systems that their grandchildren have yet to teach them how to use. It has been two weeks now. And while the mountains around Bozeman are good for hiding, I fear bears, cougars, and joggers on the trails.  My food is almost out, and I don't know how long I will have a wi-fi signal. I fear what will happen when I venture closer to town when I finally need the essentials of beef jerky, ginger ale, and toilet paper.

Godspeed.

The Fauna of Montauna

There are lots of different animals in the state of Montana. We have elk, and bears, and bison. We have bobcats, cougars, and frat boys. And there are also people from Billings. But nothing seems to compare to the majestic fauna that can be observed just by walking within the city limits of Bozeman. Sure you'll see deer. Or perhaps you'll see a tourist from North Dakota, but some sights of nature from the wild kingdom are things of beauty. The following video montage is just small sampling of animal life I have encountered in my time in town. For example, a deer bounded in front of me while I hiked about three miles away from campus. Pretty cool. That isn't on this film. But other things are. So enjoy.

This Will Eat You...

Outside my apartment stands the lone sentinel of the robot army that will soon destroy our society. And yes, it is designed to eat children.

Some have told me, "You know, it's just a swing set." But I know better. And I hope to educate and warn any of my readers who might be coming to Bozeman that this hollow automaton will rise one night and devour all of the children on the playground. And then it will send signals to the evil robot mothership that is hovering somewhere around the other side of Venus, to signal the "Day of Reckoning" has begun.

If you thought the original Terminator was scary, then this is the REAL Skynet program. T-9000 doesn't have anything on the hollow eyes of this metal creation of pure evil.

I can't prove it right now, and I don't want to have to tell people, "I told you so!" But that gaping mouth can devour upwards of five babies at one time. Be forewarned. Oh, and be afraid.

Don't let the "Game-Time" name fool you. I fear for my life near this thing. 

Ride the Bronze Buffalo: But not with Walt

While normally I would climb on any piece of statuary available, climbing on this awkwardly creepy statue of Walt Whitman just seemed, well icky. I think it is his hollow cold copper eyes. So I can't really do much other than sick and feel kind of dirty next to America's second favorite gay poet.

Ride the Bronze Buffalo: Taming Spirit the MSU Bobcat

The wild beast sits in the plaza, much like a gargantuan mockery of a Maurice Sendak monster, waiting to pounce.

And pounce it does.  Striking me with its bronze paw of furry fury. For Spirit, as the Bozemanian people like to call him, does not want to be tamed.

But this Great Yellow Rider of Bronze Statuary, yes, that is how I shall now refer to myself, will not be laughed at. For I shall conquer this hollow metal beast.

And like other great bobcat whisperers, like, ummmm....Bobcat Goldthwait. No really, there aren't any others greater than him. Maybe, the guy who played the chainsaw in the band Jackyl (remember the lumberjack song?), but, that was it. 

Thus tamed, Spirit and I, headed for further adventures with my menagerie of bronze animals. When we meet those Ghost Riders in the Sky the radio keeps on singing about, we are sooooo going to kick their asses.

Musical Interludes

So Bozeman isn't all bad...If you're over 60. Why, because you can join a choral group and sing songs that everyone has forgotten. Or will soon forget with the onset of dementia. It's kind of a blessing in disguise.

I have no idea what this group of Septa, Octo, and Nonagenarians are called, but one sang with an oxygen tank by his side (seriously, I can't make this up). The group brought in their own mannequin pioneer woman for some unknown reason which sat propped up in a far corner of the cafe where I sat studying. And best of all was the detached stuffed horse head. The horse head would normally be found on a broomstick and be paraded by a kid wearing a paper cowboy hat, but removed from the stick, it looked as if a community theater troupe was going to re-enact scenes from "The Godfather." The severed horse head rested on the ground as the aged chorus sang a stirring rendition of "Ghost Riders in the Sky." 

And that is what goes on in this town. One might say it is awesome...Other's might say something to the contrary.

The Most Valuable Lesson of Nursing School...Thus Far

I will certainly learn a myriad of skill sets on the arduous path to becoming a registered nurse, but nothing has been more valuable than the lesson learned from reading the last sentence of the printed instructions to the TSE Model (Testicular Self Exam): "Caution: This Model is for educational purposes only; do not ingest."

So in case you didn't get that.  Do not eat the silicone model of balls. Why? Because somebody did it once before and makers of the "TSE Model" had to print the instructions warning people not to do it...again.

So there. Lesson Learned.

Video Transmission: Patrick Explains Bozeman...Sort of.

There has been a sore absence of posts from the Wonderful World of Clutter as of late and that is because Nursing School has been kicking my ass. However, in the wee hours of the night, I recorded a video transmission from my fake-wood paneled, uni-bomber, style shack with the sole friend I accompanying me during this time of educational struggle, Mr. Jackalope.

Yes, Mr. Jackalope has become my main source of conversation these days. We talk about many things. Sometimes we converse about the works of Proust, Fouccault, and Dr. Seuss. Other times we discuss the untimely demise of Macho Man Randy Savage, god rest his raspy voiced soul, and the fact he is probably in a tag-team match with the Junk Yard Dog in heaven right now. But most of all we talk about the weather. Why talk about the weather? Because Montana is flooding! Seriously!

Montana has had more snow than it has ever had in history, since like before the time mammoths and dinosaurs were playing grab ass. And now it's raining in the mountains and all the creeks, rivers, rivulets, and streams are blown out. The highways are the new spawning grounds for trout. And the fishermen are like, "Aws craps...I can't go out in this shit." Oh and the bears are pissed off too. Go Fig.

So if you have been wondering what I do when I am not spending my time studying or hunting mushrooms, I spend my time talking to a Jackalope. Nuff said.

Enjoy the video...