On Tuesday of this week, I traveled by high speed Elantra to Butte, Montana. I go there a few times a year to eat cornish pasties, pork chop sandwiches, and other assorted delicacies like pastries from the Town Talk bakery. (I am currently on day 3 of my once a year Atkins diet) We always gamble a little in Butte and I think I beat them out of 30 bucks. I used to stay at the old Finlen Hotel in uptown Butte, but now I stay at the Miner's Hotel. I wouldn't have it any other way. The city has an emotional claim on me. There is an adjective residents use to describe themselves. It's called Butte tough and I am going to try and describe what that means. I think that unless you have lived in Butte- you may not understand it. Please allow me a few strokes of the paintbrush. As a child, I remember this old gentleman on Platinum St. who used to pull quarters out of our ears and give them to us. He was always well dressed and just strolled along. I remember the Mencarelli'