It Ain't Easy Being Indian
It aint easy being indian
Friday, July 24 2009
Written by Ricey Wild,
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I just have to share a very spooky moment I recently experienced. It was morning, I absent-ly looked in to my hall mirror and saw Kim Jong-II, big as life. He had red, beady eyes, with dark shadows as if he were ill and his hair stood straight up, real scary-like. What was the North Korean dictator doing, showing up in my mirror? His eyes widened and he squeaked something unintelligible. I don’t know Korean. Then I focused. The image in the mirror!

Moi. Ricey Wild. I looked like the taller twin sister of Kim Jong-II, sans coke bottle glasses. It is very difficult for me to communicate my utter shock and horror at my reflection. I would have passed out had I not begun to laugh and laugh. I laughed so long and so hard I was gasping, almost gagging, for breath.
It’s a good thing I have a highly developed sense of humor. And irony? My mirror used to be my friend. But like some friends do, it turned on me – viciously pointing out all my faults and shortcomings in glaring detail.

It Aint Easy being indian
Tuesday, May 05 2009
Written by Ricey Wild,
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Picture this: it’s the mid-80s, a summer day during former President Ray-Gun’s Star Wars administration. My mom Omi is walking back with her niece after visiting some mutual friends. One of those Indians gave my cuz’ a 5 pound block of commod cheese, which she carefully tucked under her arm. Omi became peckish, and she knew that her niece always carried a knife, so she asked her to ‘cut her a slice of that cheese’.  “What?!!” sez the neice, aghast, “I know you have cheese at home!” True story. 

Like I have written about many times prior to this I am a news junkie: I HAVE TO KNOW! Sadly though, these days one cannot run or hide from bad news. The recession, AIG, home foreclosures, global warming, pandemic diseases and everything miserable connected to it. What is one to do? Well, the way I see it, we will do what Native People have always done, which is not just endure - but survive and even thrive. Even since our uninvited, ungrateful guests showed up on Turtle Island.

I sure hope real estate opens up on Mars real quick-like. Go. Please. Ya’ll have done enough here, really. You ask me, we’ve been in a recession since oh, 1492 when a Halliburton employee of Dick Cheney’s, named Christopher Columbus accidentally ‘discovered’ the New World. I know. I do wish we had had the foresight to see and stop the attempted genocide and destruction that would happen to our Native Nations, but noooo! We had to go and be hospitable, offer the Pink People from across the sea a warm meal and a soft bed. But that’s how we Natives’ generally roll, if I may say so.
It’s in our human nature. Our culture and religion tells us that this is the right thing to do: to give unconditionally, to help as much as we can in the circumstances and to take care of one another. That’s how we got this far. (Dang! Why so serious Mz Wild? Ay) Hay! Serious times call for serious words.

Yeah I think so, but yanno what else? In spite of the misfortune and heartbreak I have experienced thus far in my life, I am a lucky woman. Me and the Mitz (my foofy, ferocious puppy) were commiserating the other day. The weather was all icky, I had no money, no gas and I can’t afford satellite so I could not watch some of my favorite TV shows. God I miss Sponge Bob and Animal Planet.

Anyhoo, I looked around and everyone in the house was comfortably warm, my cats’ Horus, CinderCat, Nefernefernefer, Mitzi the pup and Marty, the fly. We all had something to eat. We have each other. I was humbled beyond expression. I spoke to my Gramma Rose soon after, and we both sorta complained about the weather, money, etc. Then I told her what I told The Mitz: we are so very fortunate and need to recognize it!

Yanno what? I could so indulge in chocolate silken luxury, dive into sensual sensations and live an unapologetically mondo wealthy life. However, I can totally tell anyone who wants to listen, that obscene riches is not what our collective life experience is supposed to be about. At least that’s what I tell myself. Ask yerself? What will you leave and take with you when you go?

I know this is stupendously irrational and narcissistic, but somehow, I feel personally responsible that Cheney, Bush and their bloody, corrupt, heinous criminal evil administration got away with what they did. (Even so, plz do not blame me alone!) The blood of our people - by that I mean our American soldiers who volunteered for duty - are on their hands. It was me and it was you who said they cared; who let the sick, disgusting, belchy corruption of the Bush administration flow unchecked. Never, ever again. No. I will march, yell, lay down in front of tanks or set myself on fire if I have to, to make a point. Getting good press is acceptable if it’s for a righteous cause, not merely to promote oneself. 

In other news I got rejected for a job with the Raucous Rezberry Riders, aka da Fuzz. I mean sheez, they really dropped the butt-taser on my non-hire. Hmm. Makes me wonder what are they hiding?

Oh! If anyone wants to address my column and my views, do plz email me. Do not, and I repeat DO NOT bother my editors. I am right here: This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it It sho ain’t easy being Indian, but it’s not as hard when we have each other. Much Love! And do plz share your cheese. It won’t be too long before you need it and some mac too.

It ain’t easy being indian
Monday, February 09 2009
Written by Ricey Wild,
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I recently joined “E-SNAG” dot com. I found it on the website of News From Indian Country, a paper that just happens to pick up my column, “It ain’t easy being Indian.... etcetera”. Well, they don’t need my plug, however I can honestly attest that the organization has excellent taste in content and writers, not to mention talent and reliability.

Okay, so there I was, totally bored – it’s late and I adamantly refuse to do anything like housework if I can possibly help it. So I signed up, my first time doing such a thing, and I answered the questions openly, blatantly and truthfully, cuz after all, what have I got to lose?

Right then. A day or so later, I get an email from E-SNAG letting me know I had some possible matches, like 7 out of a 72,436.001 Indian guys registered. Hmm. I think that says more about them than it does about me! ( And you call yourselves Braves, huh?) Well, of all them hot frybreaders I got one ‘wink’ so far! I didn’t open the email until I had my face on and my hair did. You know how most menz are, so sweet and shallow at the same time! Anyhow....

It ain't easy being indian
Thursday, January 01 2009
Written by Ricey Wild,
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My dog Mitzi almost peed herself, she is so happy that her guy won the presidency. She put her vote in for "Bark" Obama and feels really good about herself and the nation's choice. Now she is saving up some bones for when the new first family moves into the White House. The Mitz wants to go reverently whuff the First Puppy's butt. Perhaps when Mitzi is properly vetted and cleared by the Secret Service we will do so. Heck I'm so happy about the election I may just sniff me some presidential puppy butt myself.

Hey! They have ass wipes for dogs now, too! What a wonderful country we live in, and I say that with all sincerity. Otherwise, why are all these foreigners still trying to get in, starting with those anal-retentive back-stabbing pilgrims? Hah? Hah?

It ain't easy being Indian
Tuesday, August 26 2008
Written by Ricey Wild,
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“…it looks like a handful of poop is rewriting American prehistory”.
Archaeology, July/August 2008, p. 45.

Now, I don’t usually dwell on the subject of pooping because to me it’s a matter of ‘so what, everybody does it’. Of course, I have giggled about stories of what my people call a “boogit” or more crassly, a fart. Think of it though, in the actual physical performance it sounds just like that phonetically “Boo-gitt”. I dunno. That’s what I think anyways. Maybe your tribe’s boogit’s sound different. I can only testify that my own are near nonexistent but when they do appear, they are sweet, musical toots, like a Mozart melody.

Ho-Lay! Carried away, ennit? Never mind boogits for now, my main subject was poops, or more specifically, 15,000 year old Native coprolites. Coprolites that are the beginning of the real truth about our ancient existence here in Turtle Island, how very ironic! “Our ancestors have been crapping here longer than your ancestors, you gosh darn boat people! So there!” (I mentally hurl a turd in their direction).

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