Journal Entries
The Super Bowl
Posted Jan 27, 2003
As you can probably tell, I don't watch the Super Bowl. I don't care who wins or even who's playing. I don't want to know. It doesn't matter to me. But somehow, living in America, it's hard to avoid not knowing something's happening.
The streets of the city are abnormally quiet. The university seems to be asleep. But I know they aren't asleep or are they? It's almost like being in the desert again. Maybe the only day of the year when everything appears to be asleep in this city that never sleeps.
Could this be a defining moment? Could this be the summation of a civilization? Well, probably nothing so profound or trivial.
It's just sort of interesting to observe what many people think is important in their lives, so important they'll drop everything else and just sit and watch a few hours of a vicarious contest, the world championship, which it isn't.
Canadian football teams aren't represented ever, and I don't know where else the game might be popular. Football for most of the world outside the United States or Canada is football, a game where you kick the ball, you don't pick it up and run with it or throw it to somebody else. You kick it with just your feet, hence football, what the Americans call soccer. Who knows where they got that name?
But American football isn't so much about the ball as about gaining yardage and repeatedly invading the endzone. It's a game of brute force and deception, about taking or defending territory. It's a model for conquest, or settlement if you prefer.
That's probably why it's an American game and that's also probably why I don't watch it. Why watch something you've seen already, brutally portrayed in real life?
Which makes me wonder what possibly could be the facination? Haven't the Americans seen it all already too?
Discuss this Journal entry [8]
Latest reply: Jan 27, 2003
Those who've read In the Spirit of Crazy Horse,
Posted Jan 9, 2003
should remember this person.
http://indiancountry.com/?1041883162
Discuss this Journal entry [4]
Latest reply: Jan 9, 2003
The Missionaries
Posted Jan 7, 2003
Analiese was out riding one time when she noticed two white boys on bicycles stopped at a fork in the rutted dirt road down the valley from her house. As she rode towards them she noticed they wore white dress shirts, ties and dark pants and each carried a daypack. She wondered what they wanted so she asked,
"Hey, what are you doing out here?"
"We're looking for the Farthing place. Can you help us?" one of them asked.
"Sure thing. Just follow me," she replied and headed off up the trail at a trot.
The boys followed on their bikes, mountain bikes with colorful paint jobs. They seemed fit but exhausted in the heat, their white shirts soaked in sweat. Finally, the group arrived at a small house with a porch covered with a brush awning and a blanket for a door.
"Go on in," said Analiese. "There's water outback and I'll brew some coffee if you want."
"We don't drink coffee," said one of the boys, "but we'll sure take some water if you don't mind."
"Okay, there's a dipper hanging by the trough."
"Dipper?" the other boy asked seemingly surprised.
"Yeah, unless you want to use your hands," Analiese answered. "Don't worry, it's rain water and pretty fresh too."
"Don't you have indoor plumbing or running water?" asked the first boy looking somewhat troubled.
"Nope, sorry," replied Analiese. "What's your names?"
"Oh, sorry, I'm Fred and this is Mitchell," the first boy said introducing his companion.
"Hi, I'm Analiese. Pleased to meet you."
"Analiese? Well, that's a pretty name. Where did you get it?"
"My ma I think. She heard it once maybe."
"So you live here, right?" asked Fred.
"Yep, you guys hungry?"
"Well, yes, a little I guess."
"How about some antelope and beer? I got some meat dried on the clothesline. It'll taste a little smokey but that's just so the blow flies don't get all over it."
"Well, uh, I'm sure it's really great," said Fred. "Maybe Mitch would like to try it, right Mitch?"
"Uh, well,,,"
Mitch was scratching his ear and looking uncomfortable. "Actually, we don't drink alcoholic beverages."
"Really? Why's that?" asked Analiese.
"We keep the Word of Wisdom," replied Fred solemnly.
"The Word of what?"
"Uh, Wisdom. It teaches us to keep our bodies clean and pure."
"Hmmm, well whatever. What exactly is it you want anyways."
"We were supposed to visit with Elma Farthing. Is that your mother?"
"Yeah, that's her alright but she ain't here right now."
"Is your father here?"
"Nope, he's helping Mr. Randall build a corral and ma's probably cleaning the toilets."
"Oh, uh, I see. Well maybe we can visit with you awhile, Analiese."
"Sure, I guess. Let me get a beer okay? I'll bring you some water."
"I don't suppose you have any milk?" asked Mitch.
"Yeah, tomorrow morning when I milk the goat."
"Well, I guess I'll take some water then."
Analiese filled some cracked crockery cups with water and opened a can of beer. She set the cups in front of Fred and Mitch who had settled on the old couch with all the stuffing pushing out of it.
"Okay, so what do you want to talk about?" she asked after settling down on a willow stool.
"Well," said Fred, "I think we should pray first, don't you, Mitch?"
"Yes, Fred, would you lead us?"
"I sure will. Our heavenly father," he began, "We thank you for this day and the opportunity to get together with our red sister here in this humble abode. We ask that you bless her and her family that they might walk in your grace. We further ask that you grant our red sister the ears to hear our message of loving kindness for her eternal salvation. These many favors and blessings we ask in the name of Jesus Christ, our lord, Ay-men."
"Ay-men," echoed Mitch.
"Okay, cool. So what's next?"
"Well, we like to ask you a few questions," said Mitch.
"Okay, shoot."
"Do you believe in God?"
"Sure, doesn't everybody?"
"Well, not really, but do you believe that God gave His only begotten son to cleanse you of your sins?"
"Well, I don't know really. Does it matter?"
"Oh, yes, Analiese, it matters very much. You do want to be forgiven your sins, to be cleansed and made pure and innocent again don't you?"
"I didn't know I was dirty."
"All of us are consumed in the filth of our sinful natures."
"Uh... well maybe we need to talk about this some other time."
"Perhaps, you've heard this message before then?" asked Mitch.
"Yeah, I think so. I remember one person said I would be made pure and white and I thought that was sort of like bleaching in the sun, don't you think?"
"Well, it's only a metaphor, Analiese. Whiteness stands for purity and innocence," explained Fred. "Do you understand?"
"Sure," answered Analiese, "like the driven snow, right?"
"Yes, that's right, and God loves you Analiese. Did you know that?"
"Yes, God loves everybody and everything."
"Oh, no, Analiese. God doesn't love everything. God doesn't love sin and filth."
"Hmmm... where did you learn that?"
"From God's own Word, Analiese. Here let me show you."
Mitch handed Fred a book with a black cover and a gold angel embossed on one side.
"This is God's Word, Analiese, brought to these very shores by God's only begotten son that men might finally know God's will for time and eternity. Do you understand?"
"Probably not, but go on. I'm listening but I got chores to do before the folks get back."
With that Analiese began to do her chores while the boys followed her around the house, exhorting, correcting, praying and questioning. In time, it seemed, they grew weary as Analiese kept asserting that she didn't feel like she needed to be cleansed and if she did, she could always take a bath in the duck pond. She said this with a grin but the boys didn't seem to want to laugh or anything.
Finally Fred asked, "Analiese, we must go now but we would like to return next week to visit with you again. I think you're almost there, almost ready to accept salvation."
"You're probably right but I think I'll be dancing next week."
"Dancing?!!" asked Mitch, sounding somewhat annoyed.
"Yeah, there's going to be a fandago at Battle Mountain next week and I thought I'd go and dance a little."
"There's probably going to be a lot of drinking too, isn't there?" asked Fred who could barely disguise his revulsion.
"Yeah, always is and gambling too, the hand game, you know? Do you like to gamble or does that make you filthy too?"
"Gambling's a sin, Analiese," declared Fred with unconcealed self-righteousness.
"Well, to each his own, right? Anyways, if you boys want to tag along, I'm okay with it but I don't think you better come around when my folks are home. They don't like you talking about sin and filth so much."
"Yes, the elders are difficult to deal with sometimes," observed Mitch.
"Ain't it the truth," agreed Analiese, "but you should try to respect their wishes maybe?"
"Well, we've certainly enjoyed your hospitality, ANaliese, and we look forward to seeing you again soon whenever you feel like you're ready."
"Yeah, you're very kind, so see you around, and bye for now."
Analiese watched as the two boys mounted their bikes and peddled back between the ruts in the road. When they got over the hill, she followed on her pony. Concealed in some pinyons she watched as they took out their canteens and poured water over their hands then wiped them with papertowel they had kept in their daypacks. They then tossed the papertowels in the sagebrush and continued on their way.
"Why would anybody waste water like that," she wondered as she returned to her house.
Discuss this Journal entry [24]
Latest reply: Jan 7, 2003
Ned Coyote Needed a Drink
Posted Jan 7, 2003
That should come as no surprise to people who know him, which you probably don't. You probably don't even notice when you runover him on the way from Lakeview to Winnemucca, but what else is there to do between those places except runover things passed out in the road?
Where was I?
Oh, yes, Ned Coyote needed a drink but was a little light on cash so he rifled through a dumpster near the gas station and found a stick with a bunch of string wrapped around it which somebody had probably used to lay a level brick wall. It had hod all over it after all.
But Ned was enterprising, you see? He stuck a crow's feather in it and dipped it in some dirty oil standing in the parking lot and when he thought it was dry enough he found the puddle of antifreeze that Analiese had been soaking the pebbles in and observed how sort of green they were. After recovering them, he set up shop by the side of the road.
He propped up a sign, which Analiese had hand written with charcoal, "Genuine Indian Artifacts", and set down to wait.
By and by, a minivan stopped and Ned watched hopefully as a white family got out. The man came over and started to look over Ned's stock while the woman and kids walked the little yippy dog. Ned remembered he was a little hungry then but tried not to drool to much.
"What you got here, Chief?" asked the man.
"How!" said Ned knowingly.
"How kola!" replied the man with a look of worldly satisfaction.
"Heap plenty turquoise," declared Ned. "Makem good necklace. Only 50 dollars."
"Looks like colored sandstone to me," observed the man.
"Okay, you can havem, just five dollars."
"I'll give you 50 cents."
"You hard haggler for true," said Ned as he pocketed the change. "You nobody's fool. Maybe you like to see Anasazi Dreamcatcher, eh?"
"Anasazi what? I didn't know Anasazis had dreamcatchers."
"Sure, they did. Heap plenty powerful too. Make corn wilt if you don't know what you're doing."
"Let's see this 'dreamcatcher'."
"Sure thing, boss."
With that Ned carefully unrolled the stick with the string wound around it and the crow feather stuck on from an old newspaper. With fained reverence he lifted it to the four directions and muttered something he'd heard at the last fandago on the Fourth of July.
"Piya! Shoko piya!"
"Pilamaya yellow!" beamed the man. "Does that thing really work? I mean does it make rain, Chief?"
"Sure thing, Boss. Makes your wife horny too, guaranteed."
"Oh, go on!"
"No, it true. Buckskin Charlie swear. It used in old fertility ceremony. Make plenty good babies or plenty good all nighters."
"You don't say. Is that your name then? Charlie?"
"Sure thing, Boss," replied Ned with all the authentic credibility he could muster."
"I think you're full of shit," said the man shaking his head.
As luck would have just then a pigeon flew by low and to the right.
Analiese had released it and it's mate just a moment before.
"Hah! Lookee there, Boss!"
"What? I didn't see nothing."
"There! The thunderbirds, flying on the right."
"Thunderbirds?"
But as luck would further have it, the sky quickly began to cloud up and suddenly lightning flashed and a clap of thunder shook the ground under their feet.
"Damn, you weren't shitting me, Chief!" exclaimed the man.
"We're getting out of the rain dear," yelled the man's wife. "Aren't you through yet?"
"In a minute, honey," the man yelled back.
"Well, hurry please. We've got reservations at the Motel 6 in Elko you know?"
"Yes, honey, I'm almost done."
Ned could see the man was interested so he began rewrapping the stick reverently in the newspaper.
"Wait a minute, Chief. Does that thing really work on women?"
"Sure thing, Boss. Why only last week me take to Vegas, get date with showgirl and won car on slots."
"Oh yeah? Wait a minute! Where's your car?"
"Brother-in-law took it to Salt Lake to show Aunt Sacajooweeya."
"What was the showgirl's name?"
"Bambi!"
"Bambi?!!"
"Well, that what she said, Boss. Now I better go."
"Hold on there, Chief. Didn't you want to sell that thing."
"I don't think so. Think maybe better go back to Vegas now. Brother-in-law return soon, not many sleeps, we go Sahara."
"Uh, listen I'll give you 20 bucks for that thing."
"20 bucks? Me no think so."
"Okay, how about I give you 200 bucks? I'm a great admirer of native american culture. Do you take American Express."
"Nope, just Discover, but machine busted so no take credit cards today."
"Darn, look, I got 80 bucks cash."
"Okay, Boss, but you promise to return with the rest, right?"
"The rest?"
"The rest of the 200 dollars."
"Oh yeah, right. Look, here's the money. Just give me that bundle. You really should take better care of these kinds of artifacts you know?"
"Art what?"
"Nevermind. Just take care, Chief."
"Sure thing, Boss. You have happy day. See you again. You bring rest of money, okay?"
"Yeah, you bet. We'll be back just as soon as we find an ATM, okay?"
"Sure thing, Boss."
And with that the man walked briskly back to the minivan and drove away.
Ned, meanwhile, pocketed the four twenties and walked over to the convenience store where Analiese had been setting crosslegged on the ground under a blanket.
"I got some scratch now, Granddaughter."
"Yeah, I seen you putting on the show. Nice work, Uncle Ned."
"Yeah, we better get to buying that beer now, Granddaughter, before they come back with the sheriff. You go back to the truck and pick me up here in a minute, okay?"
"Okay, Uncle Ned."
So Analiese walked back behind the store where the truck was parked with rocks under the tires to keep it from rolling away. She deftly removed the rocks then jumped into the cab and threw the truck in gear. It choaked and bucked a couple of times then sprung to life in a putrid cloud of smoke.
She carefully guided it around the store just as Ned emerged with a sack full of beer. He jumped on the running board as she drove by and rolled into the bed with a clatter. But miraculously nothing broke.
Later, the sheriff's deputy would ask the store clerk if she had seen Ned. He was on foot, she told him, walking east.
"Damn that old coot. How can he just vanish in the sagebrush? You sure nobody picked him up."
"I didn't see nobody," answered the clerk. "I heard an awful noise though but I wasn't sure if it was one of those Harley hogs or the thunder."
"Well if the bikers picked him up, we'll find him in a gully with his feet and hands cut off. Those animals will kill for a five, let alone 80 bucks."
"Probably so," replied the clerk with just a hint of concern.
Miles away, up on a bluff, Ned and Analiese were surveying the scenery and chugging another beer.
"Maybe you should have bought some groceries, Uncle Ned."
"What do we need with groceries?" You'd just eat them up."
"I know, [burrraaawp] but I was thinking it might get cold tonight."
"We got fire wood. What else do we need, granddaughter? Besides I still got some of that money left, you know? We'll get groceries tomorrow."
"Yeah, tomorrow. You know what?"
"No, what?"
"I was thinking we need a way to go. A direction, don't you think?"
"Hah! I'm thinking about that alright all the time."
"Yeah, well, I think I'm tired. I think I'm going to sleep awhile."
"Maybe you should tend the fire first, in case you don't wake up before dark."
"Sure thing, Uncle Ned."
Analiese made a little fire under the tailgate. It smoldered, crackled and danced in the low red light of dusk. She wrapped the blanket around her against the evening chill and watched the smoke rise into the vermillion sky, her eyelids drooping by and by in a haze that smelled of malt and hopps and magical thunderbirds roaring down the highway on their way to nowhere.
Discuss this Journal entry [6]
Latest reply: Jan 7, 2003
In Partes Tres
Posted Jan 1, 2003
The world can be divided into three categories of people: The Indigenous, The Indigent, and The Indignant, sometimes known as the III or 3 Is.
The first category consists of native people, however you choose to quibble about how to define the term. These people miraculously seem to hold on to remnants of their ancestral territory.
The second consists of people who have be dispossessed of their land and resources and hence must steal other people's land and resources to survive. Whether they live in cardboard shacks outside of Sao Paulo or in suburbs outside of New York City, the only real difference is in their perceived station on the so-called ladder of success.
The third category is perhaps, by their own estimation at least, the most important group of all. They are the people who are indignant because God made all these mistakes in creating the universe which thwart them in their endless search for ways to support their lifestyle without actually working for a living.
They are the self-avowed, if not necessarily advertised, micromanagers of the universe dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal but ought to still know their place and women should be seen and heard, but rarely listened to. Their children are, like many things in their lives, a necessary inconvenience, and the children know it too.
The world, in their estimation, is a personal playground which regrettably has neither enough golf courses nor sufficient sources of credit.
Speaking of credit, these people, although often boasting frequent bankruptcies on their credit histories, still consider themselves the most credit-worthy of all God's children.
And while they disavow approval of the peculiar institution of slavery, still practice it whenever they can since it's allegedly cheaper than working for a living and might even serve as some sort of collateral on their next loan application.
In case you haven't guessed already, it is The Indignant, with clear and present, if not wholly cheerful, assistance, from The Indigent who have historically oppressed and continue to oppress The Indigenous under the rather unpassionate label of The Establishment. When the Fires of Hell finally consume them, the stench of burning manure will be so heavy in the air of Heaven that even the angels will retch. The gray ashes will cover the earth and the buffalo will return, tada!
This collective retching is usually termed The Last Judgment since it is assumed nobody will survive to render anything further in the way of judgments. Nobody's ever explained to me what The First Judgment was but I think I can probably guess. So can you, if you think a minute.
Discuss this Journal entry [5]
Latest reply: Jan 1, 2003
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