The Grand Montana Plan
in theory, anyway
So, as we speculate on who destroyed the pipelines (my money is on the CIA or Mossad- same dif- may as well flip a coin), consider the momentousness of it, and enter the terminal phase of the American empire, what am I doing for my part in the good fight, since arriving in Montana? Taking down deep-state politicians from the Rocky Mountain region with stinging exposes? Interviewing key players in the fight for liberty? Stocking up on freeze-dried food and ammo? Organizing the Montana Militia?
How about none of the above? Since my return to “The Last Best Place” I haven't done much at all for the cause, unless you consider sanding, roofing and cleaning pond scum activism. Fact is, my contractor friends have work that needs to be done before the freezing temperatures soon arrive, and I have to be employed.
So to all my readers, “patience, grasshopper!” while I get settled in and develop a routine. Once I have everything sorted out- a somewhat steady income, wheels and winter clothes- I'll move on to phase 2- a business with profit potential, and then dream phase 3 (see below).
Here’s some pics from worksites, but first, my transport:
Wait a minute! Right-hand drive in a Suzuki 軽トラック (K-truck=Japanese light truck)?? And a mask? This must be an old photo from Japan.
Nope. I’m here in the States. Stan, my generous host in the Bitterroot, is lending me the truck. He ordered it special delivery from Japan. It’s quite the spectacle in Ravalli county. A woman came out of a bar today, took a look at the truck, and said, “I like your thing!”
Another guy in front of the coffee shop said, “I want one of them!”
OK, but why the infernal mask? I just put it on for the picture, but ugh- I’ve been using them for the last few days. I’ve been sanding this huge log house, getting it ready for staining. Big Joe said, “wear it if you don’t want to inhale the carcinogens in the sawdust.” See, I’m not necessarily anti-mask, if it’s actually blocking something. It’s a pain, though. Have you ever done power-sanding under the eaves? It’s exhausting work. My heart starts pounding and I have to stop, take off the mask and catch my breath after a minute of sanding. Unbelievable that many kids in Japan, including soccer players running wind sprints, wear these things during club sports and P.E.
There’s no end to the sanding on this behemoth log house. That’s my friend and boss Lars Hansen power spraying on the deck. That sprayer is powerful; you have to be careful when you pull the trigger and you are up on the 3rd level of scaffolding, cold and wet. You must aim it downward to start, or else it can blast you backwards and off you go.
Inside Barbara’s big log house, the cat had just had kittens.
Those foreboding clouds brought rain after lunch. Still we had enough traction to finish ripping off the shingles on the far side. Roofing is hard work! And it was a comfortable 63 degrees. How do the Floridians and Texans do it in the middle of summer? Answer: they don’t; they let the Mexicans do it.
I hope my old body can hold up under this exhausting work. Not to worry, though; I’ve got some ideas- money-making business ventures that are sure to pay off bigly, like almost all of the get-rich-quick schemes that my wife likes to hear about. Once I hit paydirt on one of them, I’ll build my dream studio and get the interviewing in high gear, as I step into my role as the next Joe Rogan, without the self-censorship that allows him to remain on Youtube and keep making his millions.
More on those sure-bet schemes later. For now, here’s a ditty I wrote, in the style of the bro-country music you hear on the radio in these parts. (Read it with a twang):
I was going to say "a little manual labor didn’t hurt anybody"...but, in the case of roofing, that isn’t true!