Skwee Bop.

There's jack nothing going on at the moment, so I thought I'd take this time to proffer a little virtual jab at young John Reuter. "Roids" will be leaving Sandpoint in the next few days -- a development that will spare the denizens of this town his endless operatic rants, stuttering travesty of speech and spastic dance steps (which spray gallons of sweat everywhere).

This image is taken from the the one-page comic, entitled "Reuter," completed by me on his twenty-second birthday July 14, 2005. The full image can be seen at http://www.3bros.org (a website devoted to giving Reuter yet one more avenue of self-expression).

In that spirit of utter detestation, I bid a public farewell to "The Muppet" (see below).

Ah-HA!

I have discovered the culprit behind Danielle and my vehicle's inability to drive more than two miles without overheating. The mother-loving radiator fans have been out.




Yes, these two little babies (part #1ARFA00003, retails for about $180) have been responsible for more than their fair share of pains in asses. First Snyder's bachelor party, then about three hours of vicious ass paining last night.

I drove out to my dad's in Sagle (about eight miles) without incident -- so I assumed coolant had been the problem (Danielle first noticed abnormal temperature readings about a week ago after coming down Schweitzer Mountain after huckleberry picking). We refilled the coolant tank two days ago, and thought all was well.

Well, out at my dad's, we barbecued in honor of one of my two oldest friends' homecoming. Danielle (who's still training for a marathon) decided she'd run out to Sagle. I was to meet her somewhere along the road.

So here I am, driving about four miles and suddenly I look down to see the temperature gauge red-lining and the dummy light glaring its red eye of doom. I pull into the parking lot of Bill Jones Beer Distributing (coincidence) and wait for it to cool down. Danielle and I meet up and siphon water from the river into the coolant tank (mixed with some Prestone glycol-based anti-freeze, of course).

Still under the assumption that coolant was the problem (the tank was dry), we went on our merry way back to the party. Within two miles, the temp gauge was red lined again and the dummy light was on. We still had another two miles or so to go.

Being very far from any water source, we just punched through. By the time we got to my dad's place, steam was issuing from the hood like Edinburgh's "haahr" and just as we pulled into his drive way the car stopped moving all together. I couldn't even get it to turn over.

Needless to say, this was a bummer.

So we finished up with the party and went out to inspect the problem. I will never cease to be amazed at the fact that regardless of how old I get (and how "demystified" psychology books say I should be with my father) how my dad always seems to know exactly what to do regardless of the situation. He checked it out for about twenty minutes before noticing the radiator fans weren't connected. After a bunch of nonesense (jacking up the car, burning our arms on various steaming hot bolts and having the trouble light go out twice) we reconnected it.

When we started up the car the fans didn't start.

Jesus H.

So he offered to follow us into town in case it overheated again. Which it did. About two miles down the road.

We let it cool and drove it another two miles.

It overheated again.

Thankfully, we have a friend who lives on that particular road, so we left it at his house and dad drove us back the rest of the way. Now I'm sitting around waiting for some one to give me a lift out to Sagle so I can get it, then limp it back the remaining four miles to Sandpoint. The later it gets in the day, the hotter it will get. And if I'm not mistaken, the Long Bridge is exactly two miles long. This will be a touch-and-go situation, as the bridge is only two lanes, with no emergency pull outs until technically off the bridge. If this p.o.s. vehicle decides to freeze up in the middle, I'm proper fucked (see fig. below).




So here I am, waiting, with nothing to report on this blog except "car trouble."

Pain in my ass.

That is all.

EXTRA! EXTRA!

+++NEWS FLASH!+++

Hagadone travel plans stymied, second failure this week!

SANDPOINT, Idaho __ Local man Zach Hagadone, 24, is a repeat trip-failer today, after his much anticipated journey to Seattle, Wash., for a bachelor party unexpectedly fell through Saturday.

"I don't know what that was all about, I was supposed to get a ride Saturday morning from [Zachary] Snyder's brother [Isaiah Snyder], but we never hooked up," Hagadone said. "Pissed me off, I was really looking forward to going."

Sources close to Hagadone attributed the failure to a series of miscommunications -- owing in part to his inability to make long distance calls.

"Jesus Christ, I bought a phone card, but somehow it disappeared. I think Danielle [Packard, Hagadone's fiance] put it through the washer or something. Suffice to say, I can't call anyone with a long distance number -- God knows I can't afford more phone cards," he said.

This situation proved fatal to the planned trip. Snyder, one of Hagadone's oldest friends and in whose honor the bachelor party was to be given, receives calls from a Seattle number. As did everyone else involved in the affair -- except Snyder's 21-year-old brother, Isaiah.

"I thought I'd hook up a ride with Isaiah, like I said. We talked on the phone Thursday before the party and worked out a tentative plan to leave together Saturday at 10 a.m. I was supposed to call and confirm. Couldn't do it. Damn phone companies," Hagadone told reporters Monday from a local tap room.

Hagadone reported that each time he attempted to contact the younger Snyder, his cell phone was unavailable. Hoping for the best, he said he just assumed Isaiah would either call him or stop by his house.

In the early hours of Saturday, Hagadone called Isaiah's phone and received an answer -- he was devastated to learn Isaiah had already left the night before and was resting in a Seattle area hotel.

"After I heard about that, I tried to pursue other means of getting over there. I checked out trains, a plane, even driving myself," he said. "The train is as expensive as the plane -- friggin' AmTrack sucks. As for the car, that was some bad news."

Hagadone's car -- which is a late model Dodge Intrepid owned by Packard -- had been having problems. A lack of coolant and a recent fender-bender rendered it risky at best. Regardless, he determined it was the most likely way.

After filling up with coolant, Hagadone set off. Approximately 20 miles outside Sandpoint on U.S. 95 the car started having problems.

"I was wobbly as hell -- because of the accident. And it smelled like it was going to explode," he said.

Hagadone opted to turn back, skulking to Sandpoint at speeds of about 45 miles per hour.

"I was cussing like you wouldn't believe. I was so pissed off. First Sturgis, now this," he said.

Once safely ensconced back at his home in east Sandpoint Hagadone frustratedly tried to call Isaiah to relay a message to his brother. Once again, he was defeated by technology.

"What the hell do they mean 'the number I'm trying to call can't be reached.' You're telling me that Seattle doesn't get good cell phone reception? Bull----," he said. "So I bought a burrito and watched a movie."

Hagadone claimed he spent the remainder of the weekend sitting on the floor of his living room alone. He also said he'd watched every movie in his small collection, and was bored "off my ass." He would not comment on what this most recent trip failure meant for future plans, except to say, "If it keeps up like this, I'm going to have to take drastic measures. Like camping in my back yard. Pathetic."

# # #

Radio Silence

Yes, I am breaking radio silence now. I was chastised by Peter Glen for not blogging. Mike Peck has given up on me. I am a failure, now confirmed by a test I took regarding "techno savviness." I received a "5", which makes me "computer illiterate."

I knew this though.

So the News. I don't have any really. Which would be the reason for my long silence.

But I'm in the News business, so I'll scrape something together -- after all, what is the News business all about if not make non-newsy things seem newsy.

EXCLUSIVE : Local man makes plans to attend motorcycle rally, plans fall throughAbove: A woman with large breasts drinking a beer. This is what Hagadone would have seen had his plans not fallen through.

SANDPOINT, Idaho __ When Sandpoint resident Zach Hagadone, 24, made plans to attend the famous Sturgis Harley-Davidson rally in Sturgis, South Dakota last week, he didn't know that it wouldn't happen.
"I wanted to go to Sturgis, kind of a 'slice-of-life' thing, you know," Hagadone said. "It was kind of a long-shot, but I figured I could make it work. Bip over there on Monday, then slide back around Thursday or so. Didn't happen."
The tragic falling through of the plan was attributed to several factors -- not the least of which was Hagadone's consistent money problems.
"I'm one poor sonofabitch," he said. "But still, I figured I could scrape together enough change to buy at least four burritos and a case of Budweiser. That should do it right? Not quite."
Hagadone's intention was to make the 1,400 mile round trip journey as part of his struggling illustration career. A life-long cartoonist, Hagadone is working with another local man, Ben Olson, 24, to compile a series of comics detailing the pair's travels.
"The project is sort of a post-modern trek through the soulless void of American popular culture. The character is named 'Max Manchester' -- an amalgamation of both Ben and my personalities as we trip through these weird situations. Kind of an existentialist superhero thing. Sturgis would have been great material," he said.
Though the Sturgis-Trip (as it's being called in media circles) fell through, Hagadone is undaunted and said the project will continue.
"There's always more weird stuff to check out. I think we're going to the Testicle Festival in Montana in a few months. That'll be good, except we've already been there. I don't know. We'll see," Hagadone continued.

# # #

Sandpoint publisher issues statement: "Nothing is new here"

SANDPOINT, Idaho __ Area residents took the news with a tone of mild boredom yesterday when local newspaper publisher Zach Hagadone issued a statement that he's just "Towing the line. Not much is new around here."
The announcement came on the heels of a month in which nothing much happened in Hagadone's life.
"I've just been coming to work, finding stories for the paper. Nothing big to report. Then I've been bartending on the weekends. That's pretty fun, but, you know, nothing new," he told reporters Wednesday from his trash strewn office on Cedar Street.
Experts agree that Hagadone's life has indeed been
uneventful. When asked how his engagement to Danielle Packard, publisher of Sandpoint's literary journal, The Ides, was progressing he remarked, "The wedding is a long way off, we haven't really been doing much planning lately. Too busy just keeping up with work week to week. You know how it is."
Packard was unavailable for comment, but sources close to the couple said Hagadone's assertions were true.
"Seems like not much has changed since they decided to get married," said John Reuter, co-publisher in Hagadone's newspaper operation. "I'll be excited for the wedding, when I can do my famous Greek whirling dance. I plan to get pretty trashed. Bwaaag shiggidy boo!"
Indeed the uneventful nature of Hagadone's life looks to continue for some time, though one plan on the horizon may change that.
"I'm going to Seattle this weekend [Aug. 13 and 14] for a bachelor party. That'll be a good time," he said.
Beyond the Seattle trip, though, things look pretty grim for Hagadone's formerly adventurous life.
"After that, I'm not sure what's going to happen. Probably more work, I need to save money," he concluded.

# # #

Exceptionally large gas station burrito gives area man intestinal problems

SANDPOINT, Idaho __ A "really f-ing big burrito" consumed by Sandpoint resident Zach Hagadone caused a storm of intestinal upset in the early hours of Tue. Aug. 9.
"I don't know what the hell happened," he told reporters Wednesday from his bathroom. "I eat one of these things like three times a week. This has never happened. Maybe I didn't defrost it enough."
Called "The Bomb", the offending burrito is a staple at Paul's Chevron station at the corner of Cedar and Fifth.
Retailing for about $2.95, and weighing it at about one pound, The Bomb is capable of delivering a full stomach of processed beans and "Velveeta-esque" cheese within two minutes of microwave heating. Something went wrong though.
"Seems kind of weird, maybe it was a bad one. Can one of these things rot? I mean, they're frozen right? Are they even organic? I don't know these things," Hagadone remarked.
The Bomb is produced by Don Miguel, of Anaheim, Calif., and has never been known for its nutritional value -- 940 calories, 42 grams of fat (16 of them saturated) and 116 carbs. That has never stopped Hagadone though.
"I love those things. Good God, that's half of all I eat! I especially love The Bomb Chimichanga variety. But if every time I eat one I have to spend the night on the toilet, I'm going to have to reevaluate," he said.
According to the Don Miguel website (www.donmiguel.com) The Bomb "capture[s] the essence of restaurant style and flavor using premium ingredients and authentic seasonings. Each burrito and chimichanga is meticulously hand-rolled in a traditional hand-stretched tortilla with generous filling, like lean beef steak strips, real cheese and fresh vegetables."
Hagadone, though he continues to maintain his support of Don Miguel's products, doubts the veracity of these claims.
"You've got to be kidding me. I love The Bomb and all, but 'real cheese and fresh vegetables'? That's a joke. These things were produced for one reason and one reason only -- so people can eat a one pound burrito for less than three bucks. It's called 'The Bomb' for chrissakes. Maybe I was asking for it," he said.
Don Miguel could not be reached for comment, but the website goes on to claim Don Miguel himself has no intention of suspending The Bomb's production.
"I travel the world over looking for new and exciting authentic foods and spices. I bring these ideas back to the kitchen, take off my sombrero, put on my chef hat and work with my friends here to prepare the best tasting foods for you... Buen Apetito!"
As of press time, Hagadone was still suffering the after effects of his run in with a bad Bomb.
"I don't know when I'm going to feel better. Not that I'm blaming Don Miguel or anything, like I said, I love those things. I just wish there was a warning on there or something. I don't know. I need to get some more t.p.," he said.



Sad to say that's probably all I've got.

I hope that brings everyone up to speed.
Quote for the day:

"Down there is a war zone. You can do whatever the fuck you want... people get naked and there's not a damn thing the cops can do about it. ... I saw three people having sex on a picnic table. They just looked at me and kept right on going."
"What time of night was it?"
"Night? It was about three in the afternoon."