The Snag Hole

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by Randy
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on Friday, 23 February 2018
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    from The Madisonian newspaper 2/21/18 


ENNIS – According to a press release from the Madison County Sheriff’s Office, at approximately 12:44 a.m. on Feb. 19, Madison County Sheriff’s Department responded to a 911 call of a disturbance at the Sportsman’s Lodge in Ennis. Upon arrival, deputies learned that one person had been shot in the altercation.

“One subject, a 48-year-old male, of Ennis, was transported by the Ennis Ambulance to the Madison Valley Medical Center in critical condition with a gunshot wound to the chest,” the press release reads. The shooting victim was later transported to Bozeman Deaconess Hospital, and his condition remains unknown.

Madison County Sheriff Roger Thompson reported a 57-year-old male, from McAllister, whose name remains unreleased, was detained at the scene. The McAllister man was treated at MVMC for multiple injuries, and later transported to Billings for possible head injuries.

Thompson said the investigation of the incident is continuing. “We are still trying to determine the motive behind the altercation and are hoping for additional cooperation from those involved,” the sheriff's press release reads. “There are many unsolved questions that have yet to be answered.”



   Such a strange world back there at the Sportsman's Lodge, behind the restaurant, behind the bar, in those quaint cabins Otis Crooker built way back in the 1950s.

   The 911 call came in at "approximately 12:44 AM" but by that time "Mr. 57" pretty much had his brains beaten in by "Mr. 48" who, eventually, had a bullet in him. Both men were in bad shape.  An ugly scene.


   The sheriff's office also reported:"A woman has been arrested due to interference with the investigation but is not a suspect in the shooting."

   Really? Strange.

   Who pulled the trigger?

Mr. 57 was beaten so bad he was helpless.

Mr. 48 had a bullet in his back and he was wordless.


   Did 57 shoot 48 in the scuffle? Did 48 shoot himself in the back? 

   Self defense?

   Suicide attempt?

   That leaves "Woman X". Did she pull the trigger? Since she was arrested and placed in custody, were her hands tested for gunshot residue? Were the two men's hands tested for gunshot residue? Where's the gun?


   Sheriff says "neither man was cooperating enough with investigators to determine what happended." Why not?

    48 is in a coma in the hospital. So he ain't talkin'.

   Since 57 was being beaten to a pulp you would think he would be happy to talk. But he ain't talkin'.

   That leaves "Woman X", but she ain't talkin" either.



    One of three people at the scene was the shooter.

   Even if you believe in UFOs, little green men and life on other planets, it's pretty clear the bullet wasn't fired by aliens from outer space.

   Or was it?

    It was after midnight in the dead of winter blowing snow sideways fifteen below zero Ennis, Montana.

   I guess anything is possible.




 If anyone has information on the incident and has not talked to the Sheriff's Office, they are asked to call 406-843 5301.






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The Snag Hole Goes Behind the Scenes at Exclusive Photo Shoot

by Randy
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on Wednesday, 24 January 2018
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   The Snag Hole has obtained classified photos taken behind the scenes in a remote location somewhere in Montana. These shots include wild animals, exotic models, local characters, a fishing guide, a one-man band and a convicted felon, among others. They are not available to the normal public. Or even the abnormal public.pio_shoot_2pio_shoot_2018nevada_city_shoot_trainnevada_city_shoot_bw


         Just another day on the set!

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by Randy
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on Thursday, 19 October 2017
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"We fear what we don't know and we hate what we fear."



   Viet Nam vet and long-time grizzly bear advocate Doug Peacock talks about life and the big bears which to him are one and the same.doug_peacock_2doug_peacockdoug_peacock_3_jpg



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Alcohol, Cigarettes and Knowing "You're Nothing"

by Randy
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on Saturday, 23 September 2017
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             The Tao of Harry Dean Stanton









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by administrator
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on Monday, 28 August 2017
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   I have been taking John and Betty White fishing for years and years. After a long and successful career as an executive in the business world, John retired and along with Betty they began a wine business in their home town of Santa Barbara, Calif. “White Vineyards,” as their chardonnay is called, has become a big seller nationwide.

   Twenty years ago, the Whites built a summer home here in Montana and now spend the entire fishing season here. Their regular guide used to be my pal Skeeter before his accident but now they book me to guide them fly fishing every Tues. & Thurs, all summer long. After a day of fishing, you could usually find John and Betty hanging out with the locals tossing down a few cold ones at the Wagon Wheel Bar. They were among Smitty the bartender’s favorite customers, always leaving a generous tip.


   Every year at Christmas time, a case of White Vineyards chardonnay would show up at my door.

   The Whites are active in our local community donating their time and money to the hospital and town library as well as the local Trout Unlimited chapter. You really couldn’t ask for nicer people and I always look forward to our fishing days together.

   One day, as he always does many times each summer, John White paid a visit to Wally’s Fly Shop on Main St. He likes to keep his business local. Walking through the front door he saw a notice on the chalkboard. Beneath the usual “Fishing Report” and “Hot Flies” printed in big letters it said “Under New Ownership”. Needing some fresh tippet and a few flies, he entered and began browsing.   

   Unfamiliar music played through the shop sound system. A slender man in his early twenties sat on a stool behind the counter chatting with an attractive young lady dressed in black, skin tight spandex stretch pants, Teva sandals and a blaze orange form fitting gym workout shirt. Her tongue was pierced. A faint trace of white powder was visible between her right nostril and upper lip.

   The guy wore a faded cap that said “Yeti”. He had a neck tattoo showing a rainbow trout jumping through a ring of fire, stud earrings in both ears and one pierced eyebrow with tiny fish hooks all in a row. A man-bun was visible,  protruding from the back of his cap.

   His groomed, dark facial hair was perfectly trimmed, as if he had just walked out of a Vidal Sassoon men's styling salon.

   John White wandered down the rows and racks of flies, not finding the size 18 olive-body comparaduns he was looking for to match the hatch on the spring creek he had fished the day before.

   The kid behind the counter ignored him.

   The chick in spandex also ignored him.

   After several minutes, Mr. White walked up to the counter.

   “Excuse me, would you happen to have any size 18 olive body comparaduns?”

   The young man snickered.

   “Size 18? You gotta be kiddin me bro, we got big trout around here, no need for little pussy flies like that. Go find the size 2 Sculpzillas at the end of the aisle and catch yerself a real trout”

   He went back to chatting up the babe.

   John White, who had been fishing the Madison for thirty years, also had access to some prime spring creek water in the area. Large trout in the 18”-22” class could be found routinely sipping small dry flies. Just the other day he had landed two twenty inch browns on the #18 comparadun and broke off two other big fish.

   “No, that’s ok, if you don’t have the comparaduns, I guess I’ll just buy some 6x tippet and be on my way.”

   The kid behind the counter looked up with disdain.

   “6X tippet? Hah! The fuck, bro...do you know where you are at? This is the Mighty Madison…this is the NFL of fly fishing, my man…6X tippet, that’s pansy…you don’t need no 6X tippet…use this.”

He handed over a spool of "OX Super Strong Carbon Fiber Wire Nylon Nuke” tippet material in 16 pound test.

   “No thanks…I’ll just take these and be going."

   John White laid out a few plastic baggies of fly tying materials he had picked out, a dozen size 18 Parachute Adams dry flies and two spools of 6X tippet.

   Unimpressed, the shop kid rang up the total sale.

   “That’ll be $55.60 for yer total”

“That’s fine, could you just put that on my tab? John White, Jeffers, Montana…I should be in your system”

“Tab, what tab? No more tabs, bro, We gotta new owner, new attitude, new sheriff in town. From now on, it’s instant payment. The new owner is all business, can’t afford to deal wit da deadbeats, ya know what I mean?”

   “But I’ve had a tab here for twenty years. I always pay up at the end of the summer. This is my favorite fly shop. I do all of my business here.”

   Indeed, if you totaled it up, John White had spent over $75,000 in this shop through the years.

   “Sorry brah, Mr. Prescott sez no more tabs and he's the boss. Will that be cash or credit card?”

   John White peeled of a $100 bill, completed the transaction and walked out of the fly shop into the bright Montana sun, glancing briefly at the “Under New Ownership” sign.

   He wondered.

   “Clocks” by Coldplay was playing through the fly shop speakers, wafting out through the door, following John White out on to Main St.black_mask_guy

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