Las Vegas: Loving2Hate

Sometimes I simply love to hate. In the past couple of weeks, I’ve caught myself saying this regarding various subjects in my life. The latest resurrection of the phrase likely came about because I traveled to Las Vegas with a couple of friends for the SEMA car show, and Vegas is certainly a place that I love to hate. In fact, I love hating it so much, I couldn’t wait to get there.

There’s much to hate about Vegas if one just thinks about it—especially from my rural setting of Wyoming. So, I always look forward to the newest Las Vegas particulars to hate that I never expected or considered. So, beyond the usual overcrowded and loud casinos, overpriced tickets for washed-up entertainment icons, and the ubiquitous, supersized LED displays, I was pleasantly surprised to add a couple of new things to what I love to hate about Las Vegas—all on the last full day of my stay there.

On the second day of SEMA Fest not long after the gates opened, I was turned back at the entrance by security personnel because I had a “professional grade” camera with me—a modest Yashica Electro 35 (mm) film camera. At first, I thought they were just having me on because I had a camera that was built in the early 1970s. But, when I realized the security staffer was not joking, I reached around in my back pocket and pulled out my iPhone X and said, “You should be more worried about this camera.” The staffer didn’t budge only to tell me that the iPhone was permitted, while assuring me that I could not enter with my threatening 50-some-year-old 35mm, f1.7 fixed 45mm lens rangefinder camera.

I was sure there was some mistake, but once I realized they weren’t going to relent, I gave up and walked back to a friend’s car to squirrel away my humble Yashica. During that long walk back to the car, all I could think about was how ignorant the organizers of SEMA Fest must be when it comes to cameras and photography. I felt like I had been transported back to the entrance gates of Northeast Ohio’s Blossom Music Center in the 1970s. And so, it was during that walk back to the car and once more to the SEMA Fest entrance that my love to hate Vegas came screaming back like a Tom Brady, game-winning offensive drive in the final seconds.

With my film camera receiving a red-card by the SEMA Fest photography police, I realized that whatever photography I would attempt that day would be limited to my iPhone. Now I had a new mission thanks to SEMA Fest’s draconian photography policy—I would shoot to my heart’s content with my iPhone and eventually submit images from the day to whatever paying, professional publications I could find while making sure that the SEMA Fest photo nazis get notified of my supplemental income from that day—with my iPhone!

I’m never very confident when it comes to my own photography, but spite can be a powerful thing, changing a person’s outlook in any given situation. 

Circus Circus
It’s not a stretch to predict that the next major casino to be razed on the Las Vegas Strip will be Circus Circus. It was a dump 20 years ago. Today, it is nothing more than an ugly and smelly eyesore on the life support of desperate, low-stake gamblers.

Because SEMA Fest was in the shadows of the crumbling 35-story Circus Circus, we walked over to the 50-some-year-old rundown infestation in search of a modest lunch. What a mistake that was as I was reminded of shopping at a crowded Walmart on Black Friday—not to mention the healthy menagerie of trashy and gloomy patrons filling up its corridors, restaurants, and gambling locations.

Further, while walking around in Circus Circus, I was certain that its dystopian interior and unhealthy-looking patrons was surely the place I would contract a bad case of COVID-19.

Lastly, like most of the other casinos in Vegas, Circus Circus is no different in its tolerance and accommodating environment for smokers. Say what you want about the casino high-tech ventilation systems, when I returned to my room that evening, I felt as if I had been walking through the smoke-filled 1970s all over again. It’s been a long time since my clothes smelled like a crowded bar full of smokers.

Joe Cowboy & His Gun

It was a typical coffee gathering for us “old/retired guys.” A nice Wyoming spring day outside with another semester and another school year coming to an end. It’s difficult not to feel optimistic about the world when the stars align like this every year in early May.

Yet, in this moment of everyday euphoria, it all came crashing down when a 30-some stranger (I’d never seen before) walked into the coffee shop with a gun strapped to his hip like he was walking out of a 1950s Hollywood Western movie set—I don’t doubt that’s how he saw himself too.

This has happened to me before when I was in a Rock Springs Loaf & Jug store; another time at a Walmart in Riverton. Each time, my reaction is the same—just leave. Whatever I’m doing at that moment, I’m not doing any longer, I am simply getting out of that setting as quickly as I can without causing others to panic.

It’s one thing if a police officer is in the same space as me knowing they are armed. Although there are no guarantees even with armed police officers, at least I know they are thoroughly vetted when it comes to their line of work and carrying a weapon. With “Joe Cowboy” walking into a public space with a gun, I have zero knowledge of the rationale behind his self-appointed armed status.

In such instances I’m not going to stick around to find out whether he’s simply some paranoid, insecure White dude who needs to announce to the world that he is carrying a gun and is here to save us all, or he is some insecure White dude with a chip on his shoulder and has intentions of using the gun indiscriminately in the form of a mass shooting. If all I have is one’s appearance to go on, I’ll always error to the latter.

Hanging around to discern the intentions of an armed stranger is just another version of Russian roulette in my book.

And unless you’re a fool or have had your head in the sand lately, my reaction shouldn’t seem too extreme giving the frequency of mass shootings in the U.S.

And, while I’m here… fuck the N.R.A. and fuck the 2nd Amendment, period.

Mosquito Confessions

I’ve been struggling lately with the following: I love to kill mosquitos. Truly, the only good mosquito is a dead one… or at least one about to be eaten by a creature that feeds on them.

There I said it (i.e., “…forgive me Father for I have sinned”). It seems wrong to admit this. It seems wrong to say that I enjoy killing anything. But, there’s nothing like having a mosquito alight on your forearm only for it to be squashed rather than sucking your blood. It’s so satisfying. Or even if he does start to partake of your precious bodily fluid, to smash it before it can lift-off in time is pretty rewarding too—in a vengeful sort of way.

I suspect I’m far from being alone in this frame of mind.

This started me thinking about why it is so many of us truly love to kill them and, why—in my case—I don’t like to kill anything else.

Perhaps it is their small size. The smaller something is, and the simpler it is as an organism, and thus the better it feels to kill it. Yet, I don’t go out of my way to step on ants or squish a spider, but I don’t have much guilt when I consider all of the various splattered insects on the grill of my car or truck after a long road trip in the summer. If I hit a bird or run over a small animal, that will bother me—sometimes for days.

Each of us should probably ask ourselves, how big does an organism have to be before we end up feeling guilty about ending its life.

To enjoy the killing of mosquitos might also have something to do with how one can’t reason with a mosquito. You can’t just say “NO!” to them like a dog or some other threatening animal. You can’t shoo them away either. They don’t listen, they just relentless keep on coming after you, and the only way to stop them is to kill them. Even the slightest physical force is likely to kill them given their tiny and delicate anatomy, so might as well be certain in their killing.

Oh, I suppose if you are a committed humanitarian, you can repel them with my favorite Alaska aftershave, Off! (the Deep Woods variety), but who wants to spray poison all over their skin everyday—even when indoors—just to repel a pest with a single-minded objective of drinking your blood.

The idea of being attacked must have something to do with enjoying the killing of a mosquito. No one likes to be attacked. Come to think of it, I like killing deer flies and horseflies too. Why? Because I’m being attacked in the same way. Something wants to bite me, I will likely want to kill it, and in the case of mosquitos, enjoy doing it. There’s no turning the other cheek to mosquitos or other biting insects in my world.

So perhaps that is it… the simple fact that we are being relentless attacked by a species that clearly outnumbers us, and along with all of that, carries a number of deadly diseases in their assaults on us.

Here in Alaska (for the summer of 2022) where there are so many mosquitos, they take the killing of them to another level. Introducing the electrically charged mosquito racquet. At first glance, it looks like a racquetball racquet, but with two AA batteries (or USB charging) and the push of a button, any flying insect in its way, gets zapped. If they get trapped in the metal mesh of the racquet and the operator keeps the button engaged, they are simply cremated. Again, it’s a bit disconcerting to say this, but this mosquito racquet is pretty cool as the blood-suckers are practically vaporized before your very eyes. 

I overheard on the radio yesterday that during the Stone Ages, it is estimated that half of the population back then died from malaria-carrying mosquitos. So, consider the killing of these pests as payback for the death of so many of our ancestors.

On the brighter side regarding mosquitos, the gene-editing technology CRISPR is to be used to produce a gene-altered mosquito that would be released into the wild carrying an anti-malarial protein that would be passed on to offspring when mating with other mosquitos. Ideally, malaria could be wiped out or drastically reduced in the near future. For now it appears that this treatment is probably at least a decade out before full implementation. If that’s the case, you might want to invest in some good, old-fashioned mosquito protection (see above).

A Simple Survey

Some say it’s a no-brainer (including myself), and despite all of those who tell me they support the name change of Northwest College (in Powell, Wyoming) to Yellowstone College, I’ve started to wonder about the numbers—those who support the name change, those who don’t and those who are simply indifferent about the name change. So, here we are: a simple survey regarding the future moniker for the college in Powell, Wyoming.

So, in the comment area below, just let me know if the college should change its name to “Yellowstone College” or not and include what your relationship is to the college (i.e., faculty, staff, alumni, where you reside, etc.).

Be a responsible calendar event scheduler

Office geeks: take notice.

Isn’t it nice that in the “busyness” of the world we live in, we have calendars that are integrated with our personal computers that help us stay organized and up-to-date with whatever is happening—on any given day, week, month, year, etc.? It certainly is helpful for me. That said, it’s not quite as euphoric as it sounds.

Not only can we schedule events on our calendars and be reminded of their impending happening, but often others (within the same group/organization) can invite—and thus schedule—events on one’s calendar too. Again, this is a great thing with the exception on one little oversight.

When I get a calendar invite, I typically only have to accept and the event is put on my schedule and I never have to worry about it again until the event is upon me—say 15 minutes upon me. You see, almost every person I know who has scheduled an event on my calendar has done so by not considering how much alert notice time is needed before the event arrives. By default, Microsoft Office Outlook’s scheduling of an event defaults to 15 minutes in the “Reminder” pop-up menu. However, there are many choices that are certainly better than “15 minutes.”

Microsoft Outlook’s default alert notice time. Go figure.

You may be thinking to yourself, “What is so bad about the “15 minutes” reminder of an upcoming event?”

In short, what are the chances that I’ll be sitting in front of my computer 15 minutes before a scheduled event to be reminded of it? And even if I was, who wants to be reminded with only 15 minutes notice of a meeting or event that might require 10 minutes just to get there—never mind whatever preparation is needed before arriving.

Consider the more and better options than a 15-minute default reminder.

The naysayers of my critique here will say something like this: “You can change that reminder notice on your calendar.” This is true, but I might as well schedule the event myself if I still have to go to the event on my calendar and edit it. And even when I do, I get this notice: “You have made changes to this meeting. If the organizer sends an update, your changes will be deleted.” And organizers changing their events is not exactly a rare occurrence.

I’ve lost count of how many meetings/events I’ve missed because I wasn’t in front of my computer 15 minutes before the alert reminder kicked in. And, it really takes the wind out of your sails when you finally do sit down in front of your computer to see one of those reminders staring you in the face knowing the event started 30 minutes ago or has already passed.

So here’s my proposal to all you office geeks who like to send out invites to meetings. Change the default “Reminder” time to something that is at least civil—say two hours. Personally, I prefer four or six hours, that way it is on my mind for a good chunk of time before I actually have to be there and I’ll be able to schedule any prep time that might be required as well.

It’s a simple request and a simple solution to a problem that can be way more complicated than need be. 

What’s in a Name?

Winter sets in on “Yellowstone College”

It was announced the other day during an all campus meeting that Northwest College (in Powell, Wyoming) will be spending a little over $80,000 for a new marketing campaign targeting Wyoming’s Big Horn Basin and the Western states that participate in the Western Undergraduate Exchange (WUE) program. In short, enrollment numbers are dwindling and something is needed to stop the bleeding.

Nausea started to creep in when I considered the “elephant in the room” and the fact that we were going to spend even more energy and money attempting to drive that square peg into the round hole that we’ve been doing for so many years.

The “square peg” that I speak of is our school’s name, “Northwest College.” The “elephant in the room” is the need to change our ambiguous, compass-dial-name to “Yellowstone College.”

Back in October, the college president sent me an email asking about my rogue hashtags on Instagram, “#yellowstonecollege.” There was no threat in her query, just wanted to know where I was coming from. So, I replied with the following:

It should be no surprise that I strongly believe in replacing “Northwest College” with “Yellowstone College”—if nothing else as a unique identifier in who we are and where we are. Short of creating a recruiting army, I think there is nothing more effective in recruiting than this simple name change—especially when it comes to attracting students from beyond Wyoming (where we have no recruiting).

Northwest College was probably a good name back in the day when we were mostly charged with delivering higher education to the students of Wyoming, but as you know in these current times, we have to look far beyond our borders to maintain any kind of decent enrollment numbers. With that in mind, “Northwest” is certainly suspect in representing our actual place to someone who doesn’t live in Wyoming. Even in our own state, I’m surprised at how many people refer to us as “the college in Powell.” That’s hardly an argument for saying we have a strong institutional name.

In my mind, the name “Yellowstone College” is riper than it has ever been. And there’s no other institution that would serve that name better than this one here in Powell—only 70-plus miles from the gate of YNP. 

I sincerely applaud the new marketing plan and those who have come up with it. It’s going to be good. I just find it somewhat self-defeating that we’re going to execute it for such a vague and generic name—knowing how much better the results could be if a college name change were included.

Listening to the details of the marketing plan, all I could think of was, “This is what they mean when someone mentions that old adage, ‘Work smarter, not harder.’” Promoting “Northwest College” will be the antithesis of that adage as I see it.

Sometimes the solution to a perceived difficult and complex problem turns out to be a simple solution. People living near the jungles of India managed to eradicate fatal tiger attacks by simply wearing a mask on the back of their heads when in the jungle areas—a simple solution proposed by a student science club member who noted that all such attacks came from behind the victims.

Following the presentation, questions and comments were invited. I sat there and gave my best rationale for not saying anything, but I couldn’t stifle it. So, I said it, “Yellowstone College.”

As I added my rationale, I saw people like our Public Relations Vice President laughing—laughing at me, laughing at my idea, I don’t know. But he was having a good laugh. Along with the laughing from some of my colleagues I considered this: For years I’ve been part of a small political minority—surrounded by die-hard Republicans and conservative thought, and yes, far outnumbered by those who voted Donald Trump as the President of the United States. So, this felt no different. I was happy I brought it up, even if it was only regarded as a moment of levity for many in the room. But, I’ll sleep better at night knowing I did speak up in front of the small gathering that was meant to be attended by the entire campus.

No doubt, the square peg rammed into the round hole will still likely result in some kind of improved enrollment numbers, but it’s a lot of money for what will likely be mediocre results. Hopefully I’m wrong. But, in my mind nothing would work harder for us (with little money and for years on end) like “Yellowstone College,” especially when it comes to attracting the larger and more remote student market.

One colleague offered up a theory on all of this—a colleague who has taught here almost as many years as myself. It goes something like this: Northwest College is the opposite of “too big to fail,” but rather too small to succeed—set in a community and managed by those who really don’t want it to be too appealing or successful. A too-attractive college brings in better students, better educators, and even better administrators. And, the community of Powell (and Wyoming) really doesn’t want any of that at all. We may never know, but I find the theory credible until some other rationale is brought forward. I have yet to hear of any rationale that provides a solid defense for keeping “Northwest.”

Further, we still don’t have a student newspaper because when we had one, it was too _________ (fill in the blank). So “Yellowstone College” is another one of those campus conversations/stories that will never see the light of day—lost in the abyss of “no student publication.”

The forgotten Trapper

Nevertheless, all I can do is go along with the status quo at this point and attempt to make lemonade from the lemons of the institution’s insipid name. That said, along with a few select others, we’ve been batting around new slogans to go along with the new marketing roll-out… something that is more unique, more genuine than our current “Your future, our focus.” And perhaps, we’ll have a few laughs of our own along the way.

Northwest College: Go ahead, try to find us.

Northwest College: We’re not where you think we are.

Northwest College: Don’t tell Washington State about us.

Northwest College: We do vague.

Northwest College: The world needs more ambiguity.

Northwest College: The best junior college you can’t find.

Northwest College: Best direction… evah!

Northwest College: The opposite of southeast.

Northwest College: Not too far northwest.

Northwest College:Think of us as Yellowstone College, but we’re not.

Update: The web domains of,, are not available but are not active sites. It appears someone has purchased them (not me). A bible-based college, Yellowstone Christian College in Billings, Montana uses the domain name