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It Ain't Easy Being Indian
It ain't easy being indian
Thursday, January 31 2013
 
Written by by Ricey Wild,
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Okay! Okay! Okay! You done yet? Quit laughing now. I have a column to write here. So my Alien prediction did not happen...or did it? Well we'll never know for sure. Most people prob'ly aren't ready for them anyway, specifically the ones who believe in divine (?) selection.
Now that we have that out of the way I wish yooz all a very Happy New Year. I would share my resolution  list with yooz but lately I look to Facebook posts for inspiration and wisdom. Thanks to Facebook posters everything has already been said and done. How one feels is just one click away for the rest of your 'friends' to see. I think that's way better than posting cryptic passive/aggressive status updates Danial. Whoops! I mean those of you who do that...you know who you are!
It ain’t easy being indian
Sunday, December 16 2012
 
Written by by Ricey Wild,
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From the cozy nest on my sofa I watched national and local newscasts in growing horror about Black Friday retail sales. I felt sick. That day, in my opinion, is American culture’s true nature; ugly, greedy, delusional, utterly ignorant and devoid of the original significance of the Christian holiday. Is getting a few bucks off a device that will become obsolete in two weeks worth the ridiculous, smelly crush of people worth it? Wait! Did I say “people?” I mean zombies.
Zombies are what so many American people, aka consumers, have become de facto. Where is the soul-chip of a smart phone? It’s not there like when I look into the eyes of a wolf. I don’t believe that compassion resides in a HDTV or touch pad like when my pets will generously apply kitty kisses and puppy kisses for no other reason than love. Or when my beloved Gramma Rose prays for all her family and their well-being; she puts tobacco down as well as does her beads. That way she’s got most of it covered, ennit? Who needs electricity or satellites to operate and conduct prayers or affection?
It ain't easy being indian
Wednesday, November 21 2012
 
Written by by Ricey Wild,
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This year the ungrateful, murderous pilgrims of yore will not be in my column. Yooz are welcome.
Personally I like the Thanksgiving holiday, just not how it mythically came to be. I like the "giving thanks" part of it which is done at least once a year by Turtle Island's immigrant descendants and every day by most Indians. By that I mean me, I have been experiencing very awful, painful days so often that I forget to pray and give thanks, but when I do put tobacco down I am always sure to give thanks for what the gifts I have. I always feel better when I do.
Weird things happen to me all the time. Get this; my good ole hoopdie is broken down. This happened a few days after I started back to work fulltime and after I was fired the first day back in the first 15 minutes. I was unfired the next day. Then I breathed a big gusty sigh of relief and gratefulness for the people who helped me. Yooz know who you are. I am thankful for wise, kind, intelligent people. (Good-lookin' too! Ayyy!)
It ain't easy being indian
Wednesday, October 17 2012
 
Written by by Ricey Wild,
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My Dear Readers, first I'll ask for your patience for this column. My thoughts and feelings have been mainly concerned with the upcoming presidential election next month, yet I'm having a slight difficulty at this time organizing my words into little rows that make the most sense. That being so, I ain't gonna bother trying to…make entirely perfect sense. Why start now you ask? Yooz are right of course and so here I go, all stream of consciousness and as un-hysterically as I can be.
First things first, if you are a citizen of this great nation of ours you must vote. Yeah I said it. If you have never voted in an election before and think it does not matter anyway, tell that to your children and grandchildren who will approach you some time in the near future and ask you, "What happened? What about your pledge to the Seven Generations? I'm hungry, are there any scraps left from yesterday?"
It ain’t easy being indian
Friday, August 24 2012
 
Written by by Ricey Wild,
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While I was driving to the Risky Raccoon Kasino, being ever hopeful (read: easy to fleece) for a benevolent slot machine, I noticed I was being followed by the Fuzz.  A city squad car kept pace right behind me being all Darth Vader-y menacing.
I knew I hadn’t committed any traffic violations so by the time the cop pulled me over I was sure he was racial-profiling. I squiggled out of my car; I’m still wearing a brace on my broken arm, and in high dudgeon approached the offending officer who was sitting in his squad. I got hollered at for not staying in my car and quickly re-inserted myself into my vehicle for fear of getting cuffed up.
So the policeman stuck his big ole head in my window. He scared me! But I didn’t let on and took the offensive by asking him why he stopped me? Of course, I assumed it was cuz I drive an older model car with Rez plates that say “Ricey”. First the copper berated me for not staying inside the car. Huh? I didn’t know that was procedure, and said, “Well, I’ve never been stopped before! “
I have a perfect driving record and I told him that too. He told me in a stern, authoritative tone that I was pulled over for a broken windshield, a pair of fuzzy stuffed pink dice hanging from the rear view mirror and not wearing a seatbelt. Yikes! I repeated that I had never been stopped ever, ever, ever! This I said in a very soft, hurt, bewildered voice and I struggled to arrange my features to be as puzzled puppy-like innocent as I could muster. It wasn’t easy.

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