We are Finally Properly Honoring the Native Americans

I was touched beyond words while stairclimbing at the gym this morning.  I have–for most of my life–been burdened by a great sense of guilt in what our forefathers perpetrated against the native peoples of this land mass.  If anyone got fucked, it was these muchachos.  The natives did get a reach around, but with a sandpaper glove.  Our morally superior ancestors walked into the negotiating tent with these noble peoples who had never experienced hard drink, and bid them swill fire water.  For shame.  It would be like walking into a bedroom full of 11 year olds, pulling out a Marley joint, getting them stoned to their tits, and then demanding they give you all their Mickey Mantle rookie cards in exchange for your Billy Ripken “Fuck You” bat Fleer cards (Anyone who gets that joke was just as big a baseball card degenerate gambler as I was in my youth).  But now centuries later this country is finally, FINALLY, properly honoring the native tribes that we so ruthlessly obliterated from the face of the earth, largely under the banner of God.  That’s right folks, Sunday, Sunday, SUNDAY!  At the Kankakee fairgrounds come one, come all!  Bring the whole family to the indoor arena to watch Mohawk Chief as he crunches, crushes, drives up AND over the competition in a winner takes all monster truckathon!  If you’re not there to see Mohawk Chief pitted against his mortal enemy Truckasaurus Rex, then you’d better be dead or in jail!  And if you’re in jail, BREEEAAAAKKKK OOOUUUUTTTT!!!!!!!!

I can imagine no better way to celebrate the culture and history of an entire tribe of people than by painting their name and leader onto the side of a jacked up, customized, shit-stomping truck as it flies around an indoor rodeo ramming into shit to the delighted screams of white trash from Joliet to Gurnee.  No matter that the driver is not in fact a Mohawk and definitely Chief of nothing, but rather a white dude named Dale who’s ethnicity is Scotch-Irish and who works at the Taste-E-Freeze during the day (but only 5/31-9/30).  That isn’t the point.  The point is that the 7 Mohawks left in America that we haven’t killed can proudly raise their bottles of government subsidy whiskey with pride as Dale conquers Truckasauras Rex once and for all (well, until the following month at the All Missouri Valley Demolition Derby).  All the marginable, non-human-life-sustaining scrubland in Nevada cannot compare to this level of cultural remembrance or thanksgiving.  The souls of Mohawk nation will weep tears of honor and respect as the Bud Light fueled, obese crowd imitates the tomahawk chop chant of Florida State Seminoles and Atlanta Braves fame.  They will sleep under teepees of dignity when the children go back to remedial reading on Monday morning sporting Mohawk Chief monster truck tee shirts. 

Go in peace once and for all Native Americans.  You’ve finally been made whole and can be at peace with the white man.  And to Dale, go in violence and stomp the fucking shit out of Truckasaurus Rex.  That son of a bitch has become arrogant and must be punished for his boastfulness.     

About Zach

Male homo sapien. Warrior poet. I live in Chicago with one wife, one offspring, and Scout the dog. I enjoy various stuff. Besides skinny skiing and going to bullfights on acid, I also enjoy running, reading, drinking, eating and procrastinating on many things, such as starting this blog. I have a mom, a dad, and a younger brother who recently produced a sister-in-law. I'm the only person in my family, sister-in-law included, who doesn't have a post-graduate degree. I guess that makes me special. I grew up in a small to medium sized town in the middle of Ohio. In fact the even smaller town next door has a sign which reads "The Geographic Center of Ohio". Given this is what they choose to boast you can only imagine how exciting that town is. My town is infinitely cooler. For example on weekend nights people from my town and the surrounding villages and hamlets converge on the public square to "cruise" in their souped-up mini trucks, some bearing Confederate flags, despite growing up and living rather safely north of the Mason-Dixon line. This is high-minded stuff we're talking about here. I graduated sometime during the Clinton presidency from the local high school where I played football and participated in absolutely nothing else. This strategy paid huge dividends when I applied to numerous colleges on the eastern seaboard which were highly selective. When you show up to the admissions table with "HIgh School Football and Nothing Else" on your application, you get respect. After graduating from Ohio University with a degree in Economics that I've used for absolutely nothing, I moved to Boston. Boston is a lovely city. I was doing things I'm not proud of for beer money and I left after 16 months. My next move was to Chicago and 10+ years later there I still reside. I write this blog for therapeutic reasons. Much like some people paint to relax or smoke crack to unwind after a stressful day, I record my thoughts on Al Gore's World Wide Web for 9 friends, 4 family members, 1 person who accidentally clicked through after an unsuccessful Google search for something else, and a guy named Patriot1 who lives in a silver Air Stream in the Nevada desert and broadcasts his own radio show. Is there a point to all of this? I doubt it. Years ago and in a galaxy far, far away (College Park, Maryland, then Athens, Ohio) I was toying with the idea of being a journalism major. I enjoyed writing so it seemed the obvious fit. Then I attended career day and learned that journalism majors could look forward to a salary of $EA,TSH.IT per year with the promise of a fatal heart attack at 47 years of age. I'm not falling for that trick, I told them (them being no one, and told being saying it in my own mind in the shower). Approximately 15 years later here I sit declared the big winner in that battle: I never made any money doing anything else and now I'm writing entirely for free. So suck balls, journalism career day. The views expressed in this website are mine and mine entirely. I don't wish to be an even bigger black eye to my family than I probably already am. As a result of this I will never be able to run for public office and I accept that reality. But this website is a very dignified, well-dressed skeleton full of witty retorts and honorable deeds compared to the disheveled, stenching, staggering and loud skeletons who would come marching out of the closet to White Zombie's "Thunderkiss '65" if they ever unearthed the college years. So enjoy your train ride, your hangover day at work, your AA meeting or your dump. I'm here to serve.
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One Response to We are Finally Properly Honoring the Native Americans

  1. White Mamba says:

    I have 11 Todd Van Poppel rookie cards that I will trade for 3 tickets to the show!

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