Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Fun With Fakes

“Michelle, is that actually a moth up there in the far corner of our vaulted ceiling?  Or is it an embedded NSA drone monitoring our every move, our every vowel, our every touch, our every kiss, our every stitch of clothes that we remove as we have sex here on the couch?”  Nice.  Welcome to the United States of Surveillance.  Live with it, Americans, or kill it. . . .
Feeling down? Feeling blue? Feeling unwanted? Feeling like goo? Feeling about as important and noteworthy as a noodle? Well, listen up mother smuckers! There's hope ahead for you. New American Indian tribes are springing up almost every day in a city near you. Yes, just like a baseball or hockey franchise, some enterprising hucksters are creating new Indian tribes out of thin air. How?  Well, let’s use my old home state, Kansas, as an example. 

First, some unsavory scoundrel just out of prison invents himself a fancy Indian-sounding name (in this case, the “Kaweah Indian Nation”), next he dubs himself something that sounds grand, dramatic and Indian (in this case, “Grand Chief Thunderbird IV”), then he gets himself a bunch of willing tribesmen, tribeswomen and tribeskids (in this case, illegal Mexicans), and then simply that simple, Wham-O! he is right up there with Sitting Bull, Geronimo and Tonto.

Why would someone do something like this, you might ask? Come now!  Who wouldn't want to have their own Indian tribe to lead around? There's a ton of perks involved, not to mention the glory and glamour attached to such a thing. Pretty soon, many pale faces—many more than already are out there--will be braiding their hair and claiming with quiet pride and dignity that they too are a quarter of whatever you are, in the Kansas case, "I am a quarter Kaweah." Best part, of course: You can start your own casino and, a year or two, you can move out when the mafia moves in.

Seems many others around this great land of opportunity, many others like Grand Chief Thunderbird IV, are selling certificates of Indianhood to any Mexican who can fish up five bucks or so.  In the Kansas case, Grand Chief Thunderbird IV set up two recruiting offices in the state and signed up at least 10,000 Mexicans . . . er, I mean Native Americans. That, dear reader, makes the Kaweah Tribe one of the largest in North America. Suddenly, the Mexicans were not only instant U.S. citizens but they were suddenly privileged, honored, revered, deeply religious, and profoundly philosophical citizens to boot (odd, but the Kaweah language seems very similar to modern Mexican).

As far as the Kansas scam, the feds finally did something right in this case and put the hammer down on this little operation by arresting Grand Chief Thunderbird IV and closing up his recruiting stations. With the scheme uncovered, however, an illegal alien advocacy group shifted to damage control by justifying its criminal members' criminal actions.

"They have nothing in Mexico, no life whatsoever in Mexico. . . ,"  the spokesperson sobbed.  "So they will hang onto anything here . . . blah, blah, blah, blah . . . even joining a fake Indian tribe . . . blah, blah, blah."

Cry me a river.

Note--Certainly, 30 million illegals running loose in this country is a bullish market waiting to be tapped.  I‘m sure that in their struggle to achieve the American Dream these illegals are open to just about any crime waiting to happen, including fake Indian tribes.  And really, since many Caucasians already also altogether all the time claim ancestry in this tribe or that tribe—“Me?  I’m a quarter Cherokee . . . and so wuz my dad”--why not plug into some of our own unemployed Americans, including the swamp savages living in the woods down here, to form fake Indian tribes?   The U.S. could become one big casino where we could all play the victim card and sue ourselves every other year for past grievances.  Splendid.  Mexicans?  Don’t need no stinkin’ Mexicans!

Note—I once belonged to a historical group in Kansas and in that group was a middle-aged woman who showed up at a meeting or two wearing beads and buckskin.  I noted that she seemed fairly “normal”—sat quietly, seemed to be listening, a school teacher, I think--but maybe just a bit flaky overall, maybe a mile or so “out there.”  I also noticed that her hands seemed to tremble uncontrollably.  She told anyone who would listen that she was a “Native American” and then rolled right into the religion/philosophy shtick.  One night I spoke to this same historical group about my book, Scalp Dance, a very graphic account of the savage fight on the plains between the red and the white man.  At one point I pointed out the point that Indians also raised torture to a high art form and committed some sickening atrocities.  The lady arose and walked out in a huff.  Now, so help me, this woman was the palest Indian the Great Spirit ever created.  She would be considered an extremely fair blonde even in northern Norway.  Truly, there are some very unusual people out there—the real Indians themselves laugh and call these suffering, searching identity-seekers “white wannabes.” 

Note--Elizabeth Warren (below), current U.S. Senator from Massachusetts, also states, presumably with a straight face, that she is part Indian.  Clearly, she is riding that animal for all it’s worth.  No real surprise, I suppose, but Liz looks amazingly like the nut ball school teacher I mentioned above.

Some specimen samples from our dead-tree media the other day:


Thank God for Veterinarian Emergency Clinic.  Saturday night, June 15, my 11-pound poodle was attacked by a pit bull/hound mix weighing approximately 50 pounds.  She got my dog’s head in her mouth and her jaws locked.  She was thrashing him around like a rag doll.  When she finally turned him loose, he was almost decapitated.  Blood was everywhere.  She even got his jugular.  Dr. Campbell did surgery, which took three-four hours and a lot of stitches.  He sewed her head back on. If it wasn’t for Dr. Campbell, Tabatha, my dog, would not be alive today.  She is doing well, she is a fighter.  Thanks to all for helping my dog. 

Susan Myers, Englewood.

Note--“Him?” “Her?” “He?” “She?”  Seems Sue is still pretty rattled by the near beheading of her poor pet pooch.   

Note—Hmmmm.  Looks like not all of a pit bull’s time is spent running loose in the hood killing things. Other than attacking and trying to tear limb from limb every other life form they encounter, seems pits spend at least some time voraciously breeding.  When our local pound tries to get rid of their charges by putting them up for adoption there is never a shortage of pit bulls and pit bull “mixes”—pit bull/terrier mix, pit bull/lab mix, pit bull/poodle mix, pit bull/pom mix, pit bull/puggie mix—but funny how, judging by the photos of these beasts, about 100% of them still look 100% like pit bulls.


If for some reason, you have the habit to gain a lot of weight, to put it bluntly, you are “obese.”  You need to talk with your doctor.  Weight-gaining affects many organs, including your heart.  Many folks are into binge-eating.  They enjoy eating and eat all day and everything.  We need to be aware of what we eat.  Carbs, fruits and veggies are good for you and they are tasty.  You are what you eat.

Gertrude L. Smith, Deep Creek

Note—Does anyone else wonder what impels people to write such stuff such as the above?  What is it that jogs their nogs, what trips their wire, what wakes them from their crypt-like slumber and suddenly shoots them forward as from a cannon into this compulsion, this uncontrollable urge to share their original insight and amazing wisdom with the rest of us poor slobs?  Fancy, “You are what you eat!”  How insightful!  I never thought of it like that before.   Amazing.