The year 2015 in review

"Make the word 'orbit' look like it's orbiting."

“Make the word ‘orbit’ look like it’s orbiting.”

Christmas is nigh upon us, and Combat! blog has pretty much succumbed to torpor in its ancestral home. It was 45 and rainy most of the day in Des Moines yesterday, which is unseasonal, but we also got snow, a little hail, 20 mile-an-hour winds, more rain, and finally a hard freeze. You can tell I’ve been in Iowa, because I’m writing about the weather. The only thing more interesting than the weather in Iowa is what happened to me the other day, per this week’s column in the Missoula Independent:

I won’t bore you with the science, but I made a Vine dancing to “Power of Love” in the mirror and then accidentally took a Snapchat of myself watching that Vine, and now I am in the distant future. Everything has changed. Dogs are represented in Congress, almost exclusively, and watches with biometric monitoring systems tell us when to eat. They pretty much tell us everything: where to work, when to get back to work, whom to seize. We never should have invented superintelligent watches.

Thus begins our review of 2015. It was an exciting year in Montana politics, both at the state level and closer to home. From the GOP splitting apart to Mayor Engen enacting Moby-Dick with the water company as the whale to a book about rape called “Missoula,” we had a fine time. My personal year was marked by injury, illness, and death, but all that’s over now. I’ve got it from a reliable source that a savior is coming tomorrow, and nothing bad will ever happen again. So suck up those cookies, ’cause tomorrow you’re off the hook. Merry Christmas, you guys! Happy holidays to everyone.

Friday links! New Year’s retribution edition

The first A. Ron Galbraith of 2015

The first A. Ron Galbraith of 2015

It’s not easy to make out, but the Post-It on the wall in that picture says “reserved for future parties.” That should be the official slogan of New Year’s Eve, assuming “it’s not easy to make out” has already been taken. I’m just joshing; the real theme is hope. Hope, of course, is the belief that the future will be good by virtue of not including everything that has already happened. Could we repudiate human experience any more cheerfully? Probably, if we had some goddamn Gatorade, but I will content myself with assuming I’ll have some later. Today is Friday, and I am a husk of my future self. Won’t you blow away into the weekend with me?

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