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Bob Wire Has a Point (It's Under His Cowboy Hat)

Just when it seems that the conservative crowd can’t possibly make themselves look more foolish and bitter, here comes a firestorm of outrage over President Obama having the audacity to address American schoolchildren on their first day of school.

Why, the nerve of that man! Trying to inspire our children to study hard? Stay in school? Pay attention to their teachers? How dare he! Could it be that conservatives are just mad because it never occurred to them to say these things to their own kids? (“Heston, the Hummer’s in the shop; you’ll have to walk to school.”)

Seriously, the raging paranoia and delusional ranting that spews from the Fox News crowd with their snapping jaws and rolling eyes is not just disturbing, it’s becoming tiresome in its predictability. Did the Fox News think tank fail to broadcast the news that President Obama actually WON the election last fall? It’s been ten months! Why are conservatives still treating the sitting President like he’s a candidate?

Bob Wire Has a Point (It's Under His Cowboy Hat)

As the wagons are circled and information is slowly pried out of the Barkus/Rehberg camps like so much pork between your molars after a BLT, Montanans are left in the dark about one thing: what really happened on that boat that night?

For those of you who’ve just returned from a tour of the subcontinent, Rep. Denny Rehberg and four others were injured several weeks ago when the boat in which they were swashbuckling crashed head-on into a rocky bank on the east side of Flathead Lake. State Senate Majority Whip Greg Barkus was at the wheel of the boat, which is registered to his wife. Also on board, and injured in high-speed docking were Barkus’ wife and two Rehberg staffers.

Since a complete picture of the accident has yet to coalesce, I’ve decided to paint a scenario of what might have gone down that dark, calm night on Flathead Lake. All we know at this point is that Rep. Rehberg had a BAC of .05 three hours after the wreck, one of his staffers was in a coma, and Barkus has lawyered up.

For the sake of argument (and entertainment), let’s imagine what might have been learned if boats, like airliners, were required to be fitted with a black box.

Bob Wire Has a Point (It's Under His Cowboy Hat)

The simple fact is that you cannot live in Missoula without being a Griz fan. At least in public. So when I won a pair of season tickets last spring in the little league raffle, I suddenly became a BIG Griz fan. I couldn’t wait till this first home game. I wanted to capture the sights, the sounds, the smells of a hard-working football team on the field. And I got that. But I got more. A lot more…

Bob Wire Has a Point (It's Under His Cowboy Hat)

The Mormons came to my door Tuesday. It was just after lunch, and I was hunched over the laptop, writing captions for about 100 photos. When Houdini started barking, I clicked save and got up from my chair with an old man sigh.

I opened the front door and there they stood, two young white guys in ill-fitting black suits, white shirts and black ties. They each had a bookbag over his shoulder. I looked them up and down for a moment.

“Elwood. Jake. What can I do for you?”

“How is your day going?” said the first one, introducing himself with a name I forgot immediately. I’ll call him Ezekiel.

“Oh, pretty good. I’m kinda busy. Working on deadline. Wrapping up a book.”

Ezekiel saw his opening, and brightened. “Oh, really! What kind of book?”

I resisted the urge to say it was called “Hitler Was Right,” and told him it’s a screwball travel guide to roadside attractions and such in Montana. I repeated that today was the deadline.

“Have you heard of the book of Mormon?” asked the sidekick, whom I’ll call Abraham. His partner produced a copy out of thin air.

Bob Wire Has a Point (It's Under His Cowboy Hat)

I don’t know what it is, but there’s something in the murky depths of my psychological makeup that triggers a desire to get naked outdoors. This has caused more than one awkward moment on a family camping trip, but surely I can’t be the only person in Montana who’s afflicted with Buck Naked Disorder.

The most recent occurrence was the best. We awoke on a gorgeous summer day in early August, Barb’s birthday. She always takes that day off work, so the kids and I huddled around the breakfast table and asked her what her desire was for this day.

Barb sipped her tea and gazed out the living room window, across the verdant, vibrant Missoula Valley. “We’re going to climb Squaw Peak.”

Bob Wire Has a Point (It's Under His Cowboy Hat)

“Oooooh oh, say can you seeeee, by the twilight’s, uh, thing…”

I snapped awake, cutting short the recurring nightmare I’d had since the Ospreys’ general manager asked me if I’d like to sing the Star Spangled Banner after our pregame concert at the baseball stadium. For this singer, it would be the culmination of a lifelong dream: to belt out the national anthem before a stadium full of rapt (read: captive), patriotic baseball fans.

The thing that terrified me, of course, was the possibility of pulling a Roseanne Barr, or even worse, forgetting the words and trying to bluff my way through it. Bluffing is no problem for me; I’m a compulsive liar.

No, that’s not true. [more]

Bob Wire Has a Point (It's Under His Cowboy Hat)

10. Best Car Repair.
Missoula, you know as well as I do that Kent Bros Automotive (currently featuring Lindsey, the first female Kent Brother) doesn’t just repair your car, they also fix your wagon. Shoe-ahh!

11. Best Store for Home Appliances.
I’m making a rare choice of a national chain here, which is a tossup between Sears and Best Buy. Vann’s, the voters’ choice, will never see me darken their doors again, after they yanked all their advertising from NewWest because they disagreed with one of my columns. Can you say censorship? [more]

Bob Wire Has a Point (It's Under His Cowboy Hat)

My favorite issue of the Missoula Independent just came out: the Best of Missoula edition. As usual, I was fascinated by the voters’ choices. Some were right on the money, others were curiously, almost suspiciously wrong. And as usual, my reactions ranged from elation to fury. In this column, I will attempt to tell you, the Missoula voters, where you got it dead right and where you screwed the pooch.

1. Best TV Personality
Once again, voters chose Jill Valley. Ho hum. I like Jill, but have I ever seen her at a Bob Wire show? No. Not once. Therefore, my pick for Best TV Personality is Mark Heyka.

2. Best Bar
The Badlander is the best bar? You blew it, Missoula. Trendiest, maybe. But what makes a good BAR? It’s a comfortable, unassuming place you can stop off for a beer or two on the way home from work. And it’s a place where you can meet up with some friends to shoot some pool or have some food and drink while you catch a ball game on TV. You don’t need 38 wide-screen plasma screens the size of a garage door. You don’t need a six-page menu that takes a half hour to decipher. You don’t need a touch-screen internet jukebox that will drown out all conversation while some numb nuts plays the same Weezer song nine times in a row. You don’t need slow-motion bartenders who act put-upon every time you order a drink.
You need the Mo Club. Period. [more]

Really

Republicans, please. You can’t pin your 2012 hopes on Sarah Palin. It’s going to take more than a tough-talkin’ MILF to pull the GOP out of the ditch. You need some real leadership from somebody with real depth and substance. You need somebody who can take a punch.

We all know why she quit her post as Governor of Alaska. It’s easy (especially where Republicans are concerned): follow the money. [more]

Bob Wire Has a Point (It's Under His Cowboy Hat)

When you look at a map of Glacier Park, Going-to-the-Sun Road looks like the heart rate monitor of a gay Filipino man when he heard that Michael Jackson died. It’s as twisted and bent as the plot of a Coen brothers movie. But you should go. For just a few short weeks during the peak of each summer, the entire road is plowed and passable, from West Glacier clear through to St. Mary’s (home of the $3.50 bag of ice).

We drove it the other way, though, and I’m glad we did. If you go east to west, like we did, your lane is the one hugging the mountain, not hanging out over space with nothing but a crumbling two-foot wall between you and an endless plunge to your death. [more]

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