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.