Amusing, If True

In the Mists of Elkhorn

There's something about the winter landscape in Montana that is especially chilling, and I happened upon my very favorite ghost town. Not the commercialized Virginia City, but instead distant Elkhorn in Jefferson County.  To be sure, I sought my muse in those settings; but the Muse of Blogging Prose (whoever she is) must have gone South for the winter.  The utter desolation can be welcoming or threatening, depending on how you feel about silence.

The only sound was the wind whistling in the barren landscape far away from the madding crowd or the comfort of convivial others.  The sense of loneliness began to pall, along with regrets of past loves that retrospectively seemed better with the perspective of distance.

What caused men and women to move into this inhospitable landscape?  Was it lust for gold, or the restless seeking for some new experiences that drives some humans to go away from familiar settings?  Indeed, what draws me to this deserted place with winter nearby?  Was this some errant whim?

Admittedly, I adore ghost towns; and I was blessed with several nearby ones due to early prospectors for gold and copper looking for paydirt.

No one was around apparently; but somehow I heard a faint playing of someone playing a ragtime tune.  There was also the murmur of voices; soft at first, but increasing in volume!  An uncanny smell wafted: a combination of sweat, beer, cologne, and manure.  What was going on?

Entering into the derelict Fraternity Hall, I saw men and women in period dress.  Actually, it was a scene straight out of old western they don't make any longer.  Men were playing cards; the women were dancing or cajoling men to but them drinks.  Is this for real, or is this an overplayed scene.  I mean, after all, "Buffalo Gals"?  There was a legend that once a man killed another over what kind of music the band should play.  The square dancer killed the waltz fan.

And yet, that is what we expect of the frontier west: a bawdy, expansionistic, optimistic era, not informed with the anxieties of the modern age.  We like to project ourselves into that time in our imaginations, if not longing.  May that is what I wanted.

I talked with the bartender, and requested a drink.

"You sure you want bourbon?  Believe me, it came all the way from Colorado."

I think I made a face, and sipped my drink that, actually, wasn't bad for having come from that bourbon-producing state, Colorado.  I was talking with a handsome miner, and he apparently too a shine to me.

"You sure are a purty red-hair gal.  I could go for you."

Not very demurely, I said, "I like the cut of your jib, too."

"Oh, a sailor gal!  Ho ho!"

A mist soon moved in, and I thought it was time to drive back to Missoula before it got too dark.  I took my leave, saying that I would be back.

Was it real, or not?  I'm not sure.  But maybe in the metaphysical sense it was as real and real could be.  The province of imagination is quite large.

Gilliam Hall and Fraternity Hall, Elkhorn

Banning Yoga Pants

Rep. David Moore (R-Missoula) recently proposed a bill that would "ban any device, costume, or covering that gives the appearance or simulates the genitals, pubic hair, anus region, or pubic hair region." This was offered to strengthen the already-present public decency laws of Montana, which are unremarkable. However, a loose comment by him declared tht yoga pants should be banned too, even though the law did not specifically mention yoga pants. The committee that considered it laughed it out of the room! 

Wouldn't this apply to tight jeans too? And what about Daisy Dukes? 

Apparently Rep. Moore did not consider the unforeseen consequences of his law. Somehow, in the Treasure State I don't see a disapproval of hiney display, whether female or male!

As for our representative, he reminds me of some of the doofuses in the General Assembly in Nashville!

http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/compost/wp/2015/02/12/absurd-things-that-almost-happened-montanas-yoga-pants-ban/

The Dorkistan Bikini Team Makes an Amphibious Landing

The Peoples' Republik of Dorkistan, following the example of President Vladimir Putin of Russia, engaged in some aggressive moves against nearby 'stans. However, in order to maximize their strengths while producing little expense and casualties (and boosting morale among the soldiers), they deployed their famed bikini team as shock troops! 

Clearly, the volunteers were well-prepared to storm the beaches of the Caspian Sea and what's left of the Aral Sea! Commissar Natasha, Hero of the Revolution (the blonde in the middle), developed an amphibious landing plan much like MacArthur's Inchon landing with a single pleasure boat. The goal was to provide a suitable distraction while the main Dorkistan invasion force sailed in on a rusty old tramp steamer such as the kind sometimes seen in those parts.

Ekatarina, the ginger next to Natasha, provided a distraction by unhooking her top while she was lying on a towel on the beach. This attracted the Rumpistan soldiers guarding the beach while the other six played beach volleyball in their revolutionary swimsuits! Just then, the tramp steamer plowed into the beach, allowing the Dorkistan soldiers to swing down using ropes into the shallow, wadeable water.
They quickly overpowered the Rumpistan soldiers while experiencing few casualties. Hail the Revolutionary fervor of the Bikini Shock Brigade of Dorkistan!

Pro Second Amendment

I support the notion that big game hunting should be legal in Montana; but we should also level the playing field.

Hanged

In 1864, in response to an epidemic of lawlessness in Virginia City, MT, a Vigilance Committee was formed and this group hanged 21 alleged miscreants, including the local sheriff, Henry Plummer.  Needless to say, this episode still remains controversial in Big Sky Country.

Thomas J. Dimsdale, The Vigilantes of Montana.

Bad Neighbor

I think this is a questionable house selling strategy, except maybe in Murfreesboro, where bad behavior is considered entertainment and is subject to an amusement tax. Strangely, it's more common where the entitled Gen-Xers live and commute to Nashville.