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Doug Blough

By the time you read this, my brother Paul will already be gone. He’ll be missed, but I’m comforted knowing he’s gone to a better place.

There are many things in this life that aren’t even up for debate since they’re so obvious. For instance, if I set my alarm for anytime earlier than 9 a.m., I’ll hit the snooze three times and hours later will find the clock on the floor missing the battery. We know this.

At the end of the day, 2016 was a pretty good year. That being said, it went out like a lion and 2017 came in like a lamb. It was the best of times; it was the worst of times, with tragic death preceding renewed birth. It is what it is. I just try to take it one year at a time.

It’s that time of year when everyone considering buying me a Christmas gift asks, “What to give a guy who has everything?” It’s true; there are no more TV channels I don’t already get, I have the two perfect dogs and just bought a new (well, a ’97, but clean) truck.

The great thing about this time of year is the holiday spirit prompting our generous citizenry to give until it hurts. When I was on the board of the Humane Society, we always appealed to the public for financial aid for our needy animals during the Thanksgiving/Christmas season. That’s America.

As occasionally happens, a myriad of unexpressed thoughts jumble my mind until a substance resembling guacamole begins oozing from my ears. So I’ll utilize my release valve known as the Powell Trib. Let’s begin:

It was a somber, cancer weekend days before Halloween, and nothing is more ghoulish than cancer. I attended my brother Paul’s wonderful wife Shelia’s (Claudson) funeral and later that evening, a cancer benefit for sweet Teri (Barhaugh) Patton.

Everyone is concerned about government corruption, yet seems oblivious to what’s going on in our funnies. Someone needs to look into possible “pay for play” corruption there.

turned 62 on Sept. 19, qualifying for premature Social Security. Now that I’m on Easy Street, I plan to travel even more, maybe going to Billings every couple months instead of once a year. Before pets, I spent many a Billings weekend playing poker and prowling nightclubs.

Every now and then, unexpressed sentiments build up and I need a non-specific-subject column to clear the blockage. Like a good suppository, it relieves and frees me up to digest more timely information.

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