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I had a soggy bowl of Captain Crunch for breakfast this morning. What I was hoping my wife would crank out was my favorite: cinnamon rolls and ice cream (always start the day with a dairy serving). Unfortunately, she’s studying to be a VITA volunteer so my needs now rank with Hank the dog.

VITA stands for Volunteer Income Tax Assistance “What’s VITA all about?” you might ask. Wait and I’ll ask Gail. … Okay, what she said was, “Hey, I found wood chips all the way down into the living room this morning and I know they didn’t come off the dog. Haven’t I told you a thousand times to brush yourself off after working in the garage?” It’s the same number of times she’s told me to close the toilet lid — geeze, a couple weeks of VITA training and her sense of humor has really taken a nosedive.

Looking it up on the web, I found out that VITA volunteers provide tax return guidance and e-filing help to qualifying low- and moderate-income taxpayers. I have no doubt these services are a welcome relief because people who are fed up with trying to find section 4534b in form E9577d better get some help, by golly, before they hold all the people on the Greyhound bus hostage.

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Global Insight, an economic analysis company, released a new study predicting Montana will return to pre-recession job levels by 2011. Here’s a quote from their web site, “A cookie is a very small text file placed on your hard drive by a Web Page server.” Obviously, these people mean business! As kids, they probably knew their multiplication tables forwards and backwards. It just makes me sick.

The study also predicts Montana will come out of the recession with the 5th-lowest job loss among the U.S. states right behind Guam. Governor Brian Schweitzer said, “It’s an educated guess, but it’s the best we have to work with right now.” Statements like that really make my antiperspirant work. How about you?

It seems that these days the economy is on everyone’s minds. Not that we truly understand it. I’m still baffled by the Feds shelling out billons in the “Cash for Clunkers” program. Where does this money come from? Does it get delivered via parcel post? How long does it take the ink to dry after printing? Is a penny saved really a penny earned? These are tough questions about a complex subject.

Some folks envision the economy as a living, demonic creature capable of rearing its ugly head and sucking their investment portfolio dry. These saps wear knit wool hats in the summertime – they just aren’t very bright. Set an economy on a kitchen counter by a warm slice of pecan pie and it’ll just sit there – even if you prodded it with a spatula. (more…)

Looking back on 2008, it might have been worse. For example, President Bush could have invaded Iceland. Of course, enough wacky Montana stuff was going on some residents wanted to move to Iceland anyway. Here’s a brief rerun:

January

Not willing to turn the other cheek, the Federal Communication Commission is fining a Montana television station along with 52 others nationwide for showing a “nude buttock” on the ABC police drama “NYPD Blue.”

Through new federal funding, Montana schools will now offer the Simplified Summer Food Program consisting of raw vegetables, raw grain, raw meat, raw milk, and raw Twinkies for dessert.

In a surprise move, state regulators’ spokesman “Lenny the Snake” gave telecommunications giant Qwest ‘til March 31 to quit gouging customers or, “somebody’s goin’ to be wearin’ concrete shoes.”

Montana political candidates officially gave notice to run for office after standing in line all night. One individual said, “I don’t remember who brought the rum, but I still owe her five bucks from the poker game.”

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We’re almost a week into Montana’s regular elk/deer hunting season and I couldn’t care less. Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against hunters or the need to manage wildlife populations. Plus, it’s good someone buys all the extra beer crowding the supermarket aisles. It’s just that as a kid I survived a very traumatic firearm experience. Here’s a recap.

When I was 10 my folks, sick and tired of my incessant whining, let me buy my first gun. My spine tingled like when my fifth-grade teacher found a school record cache of contraband candy hidden in my desk. Searching catalogs for the most diabolical BB shooting weapon my piggy bank budget could buy; I finally spied one in a Gambles store ad.

It was a Model 94 Winchester replica with “lever-matic” action, 40-shot capacity, and automatic feed. After rushing to the store and depositing almost $12 on the counter, I hurried home, envisioning sneaking up on and blasting unsuspecting cans — maybe even taking a shot at a moving hubcap or a neighbor’s garage window. Thoughts full of excitement and possible jail time (more…)

Earlier this fall, after descending the gorgeous east slope of Glacier National Park’s Highway to the Sun, I ended up in Browning searching for a mid-afternoon lunch. Don’t get me wrong, Browning is a swell place but offers limited dining options. Heaven knows I could skip a meal but when my wife says she’s hungry, we eat.

I was in a quandary, play it safe with fast food or brave the unknown. With pressure from the passenger’s seat, my spine became one with a jellyfish and we ate fast food.

Not that local eateries haven’t served me well over the years. I’ve savored incredible meals from a pizzeria in Delta, CO that produced a calzone to die for to a humongous Santa Fe chicken pasta delight at a café in Glendive.

But, most of us have been at the mercy of the classical traveling malady caused by sitting in a car way too long. So pulling into an unknown town, the logical choice isn’t scouring the backstreets for a unique culinary adventure, it’s finding a recognizable franchise sign and heading into the parking lot. (more…)

I need my faithful readers, all 10 of you, to rally around a cause of life-changing, epic proportion. It’s one striking at the heart of what makes America great. Let’s fight the good fight and make Norwegian the official language of the United States of America. Did I hear a snicker?!

With Norwegian as the official language all taxpayer-funded governmental activities would be carried out using a language that has consistently proven to create characters of posthumous greatness - Lars and Ole to mention a few. Our education system would be using a language with roots deeper than Greek or Latin. Face it - Noah was using it when he got off the boat. With one language, oil prices would drop, housing prices rise, hemorrhoids shrink, and America’s citizenry would raise its voice in that inspiring Norwegian song, “A Boy Named Sue.”

One common dialect would return the simplicity of days gone by. You’d buy a toaster at the local general store (harmlessly nicknamed Wally World) and wouldn’t have to flip the directions five different ways trying to find a recognizable word. Nope, right there in front of you would be “Ne til Lutefisk,” meaning, don’t insert smelly, dried fish unless you want a kitchen reeking with the odor of burning professional football player underwear.

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Contentious remarks will surely light up during this final year before all businesses must comply with the 2005 Montana public-area smoking ban. Not too many fence sitters here. There are basically two camps: people who detest eating cigarette butt smelling tuna fish sandwiches and, folks who willingly eat those same sandwiches because, with their tainted taste buds, all food tastes like it was rolled in a well-used ash tray.

But I’m supposed to be writing a humorous column here, paradoxically authoring something witty about the world of tar-laden lungs, hacker’s cough, yellow teeth, and stinky breath. Doing my best to lightly step around the smoking maladies of cancer (lung, pancreatic, esophagus, and throat – to mention a few), shortened life span, bronchitis, emphysema, and stroke.

To avoid being too serious, I’ll have to ignore the lies about product innocence told by tobacco companies beginning in the 60’s. I should creatively devise jokes about the tobacco industry’s seven dwarfs telling congress in 1994 that “nicotine is not addictive.” When, in fact, nicotine is a super toxin that, drop for drop, is more lethal than strychnine, three times deadlier than arsenic, and creates an addiction that can be harder to break than heroin. (more…)

I have sinned. If you were my Mom, it wouldn’t surprise you, but you’re not. My transgression happened last year when I wrote an article about property taxes. It contained some derogatory comments about the state’s revenue department and local appraisers. Here’s an example:

“As far as I know, the appraisers never looked inside a home. They might drive by, but most likely calculate values in their offices while playing computer games …”

So the other day, when I opened my official “guess what you owe” appraisal form, my property value made a quantum leap (we don’t know exactly how much yet as the planets aren’t in the correct position). The local office, in a revengeful tone, said we’d finished our house. Working on the house for five years now– if it were finished, believe me I’d know. I did install a toilet paper dispenser during the year. Still, in our house we never use the f-word. (more…)

I set my brother, Walt, on fire when I was three. Seven years later, I swiped his buffalo-head nickel collection, blowing it on candy and RC colas. In college, I sent a drill bit into his thumb, requiring an emergency room trip. After 50 years of my shenanigans, you’d wonder why he still speaks to me. I know I do. But then, my IQ verges on the temperature of a frozen hard-boiled egg.

Back in 2001, Walt’s foot kept going numb; then the vision in one eye started to blur – the diagnosis was Multiple Sclerosis (MS). MS is a chronic, often disabling disease attacking the central nervous system. The symptoms for most MS victims come and go, forcing them to adjust while trying to get on with life — desperately hoping for a cure.

To help raise money for MS, Walt started riding in the two-day Colorado MS 150-mile bicycling event. Each year I’d try to remember to send him a donation. Hey, I was a busy guy. But this year the egg started to thaw as I realized more action was the only way to get my name off the “human fungus” list. So, on a June 29th overcast morning, two of my sons and I showed up in Westminster Colorado to ride. (more…)

Hold on to your dictionary and turn on the TV! The vowel-infested 2008 Scripps National Spelling Bee finals are on ESPN tonight. Some of the brightest young minds will standup and successfully spell words like, “schadenfreude.” Yes, I’m a little jealous. So what?!

I’m a pathetic speller. Most times the computer’s spell check mocking displays, “No word suggestion.” My always-supportive wife suggested that to improve my spelling we could do crossword puzzles after getting in bed at night. I said, “Sure. At our age there isn’t much else going on anyway.”

An English professor told me, “Spelling is important but it isn’t important.” Which, coming from a guy who recites Shakespearean sonnets made perfect sense. As much as my wife telling me, “You better not be coming down that hall with dirty boots! I just cleaned that floor on my hands and knees. You understand me?!” Which, of course, I do. (more…)