So Beautiful it is Obscene

Ever see something so beautiful but you know it is quite obscene? I was fortunate enough to go for a trip to Montreal, a beautiful city. My wife, Suz, took me there, it was around 1998. We did a few tourist things, like go on one of those crazy boat rides, the one which does 360's at high speed. I think we have a photo somewhere. We walked around old Montreal and the docks. I remember a man who was painted up silver like a statue which was pretty cool.  One of the memories we made was at the Notre-Dame Basilica.  My Mom was a Catholic so it was good to go to the Church and then tell her about it. The Church does not disappoint. The interior of the Church is just magnificent, with incredible wood work, exterior work, art work, and stained glass windows. The disappointment we have is that we never had the chance to take my deceased Mom there. I think she would have appreciated the beauty in the Church. 

For me the Norte Dame Church was so incredible in all its splendor that it is absolutely obscene. There is no spirituality to it but rather opulence, just pure riches. It is no doubt beautiful, still it reeks of a rotten stench. The stench comes from its theft, its brutality, it's destruction the world over. The great beauty cannot hide the wretchedness within the foundation of its life.  "Once, when criticising the Vatican's wealth, Pope John Paul I confessed that his toilet flush handle was made of solid gold and studded with diamonds. You get the image; the beauty we see in gold and the obscenity of it as a toilet handle where you flush shit down to disappear?

We see the beauty and obscenity in both people and objects (perhaps even words). I think of the beauty of Mrs. Trump and the daughter Trump. No one can really say they are not beautiful (of course tastes differ and are subjective) but they are also hideous. How can anyone say they are not?  They have physical attributes which make them attractive but there is also much to them which many see as monstrous. The prostitution of integrity for riches and power. There are many individuals we can see as beautiful and obscene. 

There are of course things which should be beautiful and obscene but turns out they are nothing but gaudy. The art piece title America is an example of gaudy as opposed to beauty. The 18 karat golden toilet is a good example of missing the mark of beauty and just showing gaudy. It is gaudy but it was designed to be and the message is it is also obscene.   

Leon Neil/Getty Images

America was viewed as the "land of opportunity" at one time but now it is viewed as the land of the obscene, the selfish, the damned. The United States was seen as a democratic country where the people have the voice over affairs; a beautiful idea. What was once thought to be beautiful is now known to be ugly; the voices are being silenced and it is obscene. The powerful establishment of the power hungry and the rich have almost ruined United States democracy. 

We can view talent as beautiful. Meryl Streep, Christopher Walken, Robert De Niro in 1978 The Deer Hunter movie are just incredible. Other actors, producers, directors have made incredible, beautiful works as well. The beauty of these works is ruined by the obscenity of their other actions. Mel Gibson, John Wayne, Kevin Spacey, Woody Allen are but a few of the ugly where we once associated as beautiful talents. We see them as they truly are: repugnant, repulsive, ugly and disgusting. The beautiful is actually obscene. Still many refuse to see the obscene and continue to view them as beautiful. 

It is weird how we view beauty; a building, an art piece, an animal, a mountain, a piece of jewelry, a person, a child, a piece of furniture, a vehicle, and so on. The truly beautiful is being missed. It is being missed because the obscene has become the image of beauty. There are some amazing beautiful people who are active in keeping things beautiful. Autumn Peltier is an example of beauty. She is beautiful for the work she does and the message she carries. She is a Water Carrier. 

Autumn Peltier Photo by Linda Roy 

 We still want to look at a river or a lake and see the beauty but we take it for granted. We pollute the rivers, the waterways, and make it not good to wade in it, to swim in it and to drink it. We poison it with mercury and flush shit down into from our golden toilets with our solid gold and diamond handles. We turn something so beautiful it becomes obscene. Indigenous communities the world over cannot drink the water anymore. It is the obscenity of the rich which is ruining the beautiful. We view a stack of money as beautiful. We want to load up our bath tub with money and wash our bodies with the money. We don't see the money as what it is; dirty, filthy and the spreading of germs. We see money as so beautiful we kiss it before we shove it into the slot machine at the gambling establishments. We don't even realize my cousin just took a big shit and didn't wash his hands. He used those shit stained hands to handle his money and hand it over to another place of business. The money traveled around being handled by many shit stained, flu, and cold infected hands, where it has finally come into your hands. You love money so much you kiss it, not even seeing the crud, the dirt, the germs on the dollar bill. Mean while, there are folks who are actively spending this loved money to destroy the water ways, the marshes, the mountains and why? To have more shit stained obscene money in their hands. 

"The COVID-19 crisis, as we well know, has exacerbated inequalities that already existed. The world's richest people offer the starkest example. An October Report found that in the 500 wealthiest people had gained $813 billion collectively so far in 2020. On his own, the world's richest person...has accrued $70,5 billion in new wealth this year. Many constituents of the 99%, meanwhile, lost their jobs, lost their homes, and joined food lines." 

I came up this post because of a video images  I have seen over the past few months and over the years.  There are images of Children coming out of Yemen. Beautiful children, but in horrible circumstances. I cannot imagine the pain of the people, the Mothers, the Fathers of the Children of Yemen. You can only look at what should be beautiful and see the obscenity of it. The image of a child of only skin and bone becomes obscene.

Al-Sabeen hospital in Sana, Yemen,

We look away because the beauty is all but gone and we can't bear to look. So beautiful yet it has become obscene and why? Power, greed and human obscenity makes this happen. 

We see things which are so beautiful and they should be so beautiful but are obscene. It fucking hurts. 

Gi doonjinaay - You Reap What You Sow.

 You know the answer to why we are in this shit-hole called a global crisis? It is because of this: "Do we need it? No. Do we want it? Yes." The whole bases of our existence has been because we need it. We need food, water, air, and yes, we need fire. The thing is we want so much more than we need. The unhinged desire to get stuff and more stuff. And when we get the stuff we want different stuff. We replace stuff we have with more stuff. The rapid decline of the Earth is not due to sustenance living but rather our pursuit of having more. It seems we are powerless to stop the devouring of the Earth. Who really is to blame for all this carnage? Well we can point at the Capitalists for sure. We can also look at the roles of the power systems, like religious institutions. We can say it's the corruption of governments. In the end we know it is the monster we know as Greed, individual greed. 

It will be always come down to the actions of individuals. 

As a 12 year old kid I stole cigarettes from my Mom and Dad. The cigarettes where the blue package called Rothmans. I gave out cigarettes to kids around our area. One of the younger kids, Earl Laforte (he is a good guy, he was just a kid, he would kick my arse if he saw his name) told my Mom. I was in the yard with some friends and my Dad came out and grabbed me. He dragged me around by the arm and whipped me with his belt. I could see my friends melt away into the ditch by the road. The whipping didn't bother me as much as the embarrassment of being hit in front of the other kids. I think a whipping is a private thing. My individual actions of stealing (and getting caught) got me the belt whipping. It is for sure what I deserved - you reap what you sow; a kid does wrong, they should be whipped and shamed. 

The thing with ugly actions of individuals is there are not enough whippings and not enough shame for our actions. 

We may know the kids who need a good whipping: the Oil Companies, the Financial Institutions, the Mining Industries, the Big Meat producers, the Big Forest companies, the mega-huge retail giants, and the corrupt government individuals who "suck on tit" for their own gain. Will it happen? Will the greedy financial institutions get a whipping? We have seen this does not happen. The opposite; the government gives them money if they want it and makes laws so the financial kids can operate without any fear of being whipped or being shamed. All of these big bad kids feel they reap what they sow. Only they feel they are being rewarded for their actions. They fly in their private jets, eat only at the most expensive restaurants, bed the most gorgeous folk, and wear clothes no one sane person would spend money on. They live life without shame, without fear of being whipped and shamed. Many of them are just faceless powerful greedy sock puppets. Many an individual wish they had the life of the rich greedy kids. Who wouldn't sell their old Auntie and Uncle off for a taste of the what the rich kids have; to have the freedom to go anywhere you want, to buy anything you want? To fulfil all our greedy thoughts? 

People admire the obscenely rich. People see the obscenely rich as having no worry, no problems and no fear of reprisal, no fear of the kid being whipped. It is true for the most part, we do see them as having the diplomatic immunity from the everyday struggles and pains. It is not true, they will reap what they sow. There is the notion of  Karma; where those who do something bad will have something bad happen to them. Society has corrupted and simplified the meaning of Karma by saying "those will get theirs" and believe it to be an empty cliche or saying. Karma has a deeper and more profound foundation: "This deeper understanding of Karma rests upon our essential identity as souls -- spiritual beings who are animated by a vital and divine force. As souls we are spiritually held accountable for what we create, promote, and allow in our lives. We are constantly in the process of accruing and/or balancing our karmic debts of responsibility for our creations. Karma is not physical, it is spiritual, and we carry Karma forward through time within a given lifetime or as some believe, from one lifetime until the next."  

Indigenous people believe similar concepts.  The Anishinaabe for example, have the Teachings of Gi Doonjinaay. Gi Doonjinaay is the belief and truth that if you do harm to another Living being, harm will also come to you. This is a fundamental belief when the Anishinaabe society was reliant on their environment, their eco-systems and their communal way of living. Elders, Uncles, Aunts, parents would scold you if you were mean to animals. Animals were part of their well being and important for being able to survive and live. So if you upset the balance of life with selfish actions, you took the chance of being hurt in some divine interaction. Maybe you hurt your leg while you were out in the bush trapping or hunting. This hurt leg could be catastrophic; not only to you but to those who counted on you to provide food for sustaining them. The concept of Gi Doonjinaay was prominent in Anishinaabe living, you could not live being selfish greedy and mean spirited; your actions had consequences. You were called on your actions because your actions not only affected you but could affect others as well.

The ultra-wealthy may not believe in Karma, in Doonjinay, or accountability but let us be very clear, they are going to pay, they are reaping what they sow. The current state of the world is their comeuppance. Their actions of greed, of nothing needing it, but wanting it has doomed society. Like Gi Doonjinaay the actions not only affect them individually but affect others. The rich breathe the same air as Homeless Carl on the streets of New York City. The senseless pursuit of having more stuff has caught up with them. Sure many will die with enormous cheques in their shirt pockets as they lay stiff in the casket but the children and children's children will carry the weight of their actions. Their kids will be getting a whipping by the Earth for the endless plunder. The Earth is carrying out their punishment with fires, droughts, and storms. Insurance industry, a staple of the rich, are feeling the pain because of the Earth's fight against them. Even the rich are feeding on the rich. The greedy want more and in their lust for more, they get burned. The rich have money and they want more so they take the money and try to have it grow into more. Ironically their greed is preyed on by the greed of other rich folk, who swim in the corruption of financial institutions (can we say Bernie Madoff). The rich eat their own young and throw them in the sewers filled with rats. We see the faith of the ultra-greedy and it is burning in the hills of California. We expect the Earth will not die, but the animals who rely on the Earth will die and they will die because of one thing: Do we need it, no, but do we want it, absolutely. As the Elder's say, Gi Doonjinaay, you will be hurt if you hurt an animal. 

Right minded people get it, they know the whippings which come from bad actions. Why is it, the greedy individual, does not get it? 

Situation Critical

 Situation Critical oooo wooo oooo.  The ride in the car is a hit mix (hit miss?) thing when I don't have my Ipod hooked up to the car stereo. My honda still has a cassette deck so I bought one of those cassette inserts where it can hook up to an external source. I can hook up my Ipod and listen to the tunes I have selected. With no Ipod there is the CD option but it comes with a short supply of music, so it comes down to the local radio stations. Unless of course you have satellite radio which is not cheap. So the ride without Ipod for me is a hit miss situation. There could be a decent song like Under Pressure by Queen or even an ACDC oldie but it could something which damages your spirit and your brain. We have so much noise coming out of the radio, makes us want to go on a crashing spree. Not head-on of course but more like side slamming cars as you cruise around the city, as Anna plays on in the background - "Anna I still love you, but if he loves you more go with him woo ooo ooo." You try to change the tempo or mindset going on in your mash up brain by switching to a local university station and you hear Amy Goodman talking about 11 million record milestone of those infected with COVID in the United States. She talking about some of the States refusing to take measures to try curb the spread. South Dakota Governor not wanting to do anything to stop the spread regardless of a critical situation in her State. So as Amy Goodman continues to share bad news from around the world, I think oooo wooo oooo situation critical, this bad tune is blasting in my head, damn the damn play list of the radio stations. These boots are made for walking is now doing a full assault on my brain - "you've been messin' where you shouldn't 've been messin." Rotten radio station trying to get my brain to explode in a beautiful cascade of red mashed up fat and bone. So I change the station before situation turns critical. Local news is on and guess what? We hear Ninety thousand kids sexual assault lawsuits are launched against Boys Scotts of America. All those poor children in a critical situation. But in a twist of good news which may actually alter the tilt of the universe, a British man, an old white guy, jumped into the water and saved a young Chinese woman. The man, a British diplomat at despite his advantaged age (61) was able to save the student. "For a man of such advanced age to save another person from the water is such cold weather, regardless of his own safety, he is a hero and gentleman." This is good news but at the same time a slap to young men in their 60's.  I honestly did not know I was at an advanced age. I can see the man being Knighted somewhere in his short future. Accordingly at his advanced age, he may not have much time so his situation critical. 

We know damn too well we are in situation critical; Greta Thunberg told us, Autumn Peltier told us, Sarika Cullis-Suzuki told us, Severn Cullis-Suzuki told us, and countless others are telling us, Situation Critical. It is not just a slack song burning holes in our ear drums, needling into our cerebrum with the force of a hot pepper which we accidental breathed into our nostrils and it is scorching our brain through our nose passage. It is a critical time and we are out of options. There are those who will keep the radio tuned and ignore the situation, just keep their heads bobbing to a teeth grinding tune of dribble and marshmallow melting message: "can you hear the drums Fernando? I remember long ago another starry night like this in the firelight Fernando. You were humming to yourself and softly strumming your guitar. I could hear the distant drums."  We are Situation Critical. We keep the station on and ignore everything.  I can not continue with the same tunes on the same station. So I will plug in my Ipod and pick up the dog poop my dog dropped on the sidewalk. We don't want anyone stepping in dog poop. It could turn out to be situation critical. 

Just have to share this video of the Great Drum group Cozad. This is the kind of good feel tune which should be on your radio. This is spectacular. The gentleman in the purple shirt and cowboy hat is just situation awesome. We need more Situation Awesome and fight Situation Critical. 

We Need a Jerk in Our Life: The Pachak

 There are those who prey on the goodwill of others, and man that really bugs me, you know? You give them some hospitality, some kindness, some generosity, and they abuse it. The act of being a gracious host is lost on them. There is a word we use to describe this being, it is a "Pa-chak." A Pachak will come to your home ask to stay for a couple of days and then never ever try to leave. The Pachak will cut in front of you, in the check out line, the traffic jam, the movie theatre line and they will look in your fridge and not be satisfied with what is in there. The Pachak will go into your alcohol cupboard and pour himself a tall glass of the most expensive spirit you have and boldly say "Buddy you got the best bar in town." The Pachak will take your last smoke and not give you a puff. Will drink straight from the milk jug and leave it out on the counter. The Pachak will not flush the toilet after using it. The Pachak will borrow your car and break it. The Pachak will borrow your car and bring it back home with the car sucking fumes. The Pachak will borrow your car, drive off and come right back saying there is no gas in it. A Pachak can make you cringe but also make you laugh as well. It is the laughing Pachak we love and adore. The laughing teasing Pachak is needed everywhere. The happy Pachak will be there when they are needed for a chuckle and to lighten up the mood. The happy Pachak can be the butt of their own jokes. The happy Pachak is a joy albeit with a shoulder shrug and little cringe. The happy Pachak will make you laugh when you are in the midst of a big sobbing cry. The happy Pachak will make you smile and chuckle just before the dirt is tossed on your friend's coffin. As you lay in the fetal position because your partner has left you on your wedding day, the Pachak will say "well, never did like her/him/them anyway" and get you laughing. The happy Pachak will be there to slash tires of the guy who cheated on your cousin with the town mattress. The happy Pachak is also a town mattress. The Happy Pachak sees the world as a place to bring joy, even if it kills the other person. 

 It is the cringing selfish Pachak we want to bash over the head with a lead crystal vase. Then roll them up in a tarp, a heavy smelly greasy tarp, toss in the back of the truck bed, drive over to the nearest land fill and dump there, so the crows, the flies, the magpies and the rats can have a little taste. We endure the Pachak because we are cool like that. The rude Pachak seems to dominate in the world. We need the Pachak, the happy one, but we have to endure the rude Pachak. Think of the rude Pachak as the Chihuahua of the dog world: an annoying little yappy untrainable misery who is the baby of your annoying old cripple aunty with the wicked smokers hack, with an overwhelming odour of pee and cheap perfume - who is rich. You don't really like them but you know there could be some reward there so you bite your tongue until it bleeds and smile. 

-And if I ever lose my legs, I won't moan, and I won't beg. Yes If I ever lose my legs, Oh if I won't have to walk no more.

And If I ever lose my mouth, all my teeth, north and south. Yes if I ever lose my mouth, Oh if I won't have to talk.

I have been both, the cringe worthy Pachak and the happy make you smile Pachak.  The very best Pachak example is not Homer Simpson but it is Alan in the movie Hangover. Now he is the "classic" Pachak, a one man wolf pack. 

Now who is your Pachak?  

Let's Find Joy In Our Lives

 "May you live in interesting times" is a phrase usually uttered as a curse or put down. Regardless of the origin and meaning, society uses it to mean "fuck you and die" - basically. Well we are certainly living in interesting times: the rise of White Supremacy, the destruction of Middle Eastern lives, the rise of despots in many countries, the fish, the bees and bears are disappearing.  People went toad licking crazy over toilet paper for a period of time. The King of the Universe, Mr. trump still wants to boink his daughter; the rodent looking one and not the pie face one. It's weird eh?  To add to the interesting times we have a flu which likes to kill in many different ways. The bees are under pressure from assassin bees, called Murder Bees. Ellen Degeneres who closes hers TV Show with signature "Be Kind", turns out she is a creepy unkind arsehole. With all this madness going on we really need to find some joy before we go into full metal jacket melt down. It is quite weird because we used to worry about the Post Office worker going all Brenda Spencer on people, now it is the everyday White guy we should be wary of. The world is full of things, people and events which suck the joy right of living. 

In my community, Sagkeeng First Nation, the meth monster has taken hold and is living comfortably there. Young people to middle age adults are prey to the meth monster. Material goods of any kind are disappearing from the yards, the cars and the homes of Sagkeeng residents as well as the neighbour communities. The rise of thefts, increased assaults are due to the need of individuals to feed their meth monster. Other First Nations communities are not immune to the ferocious appetite of the meth monster.  Meth monster just eating away joy from First Nation communities and main stream community as well. The meth monster is just another ill in the Indigenous community to compound the joyless existence.  First Nations are continuously being bombarded with society's racism. In Nova Scotia for example, the fishing industry comprising of white men are physically attacking the Mi'kmaq community, burning their gear, and killing their fish stock. The Mi'kmaq make up a minuscule amount of the annual fishing harvest. Still it is too much for the white fishing industry. No joy being experienced there.  As an Indian, an Indigenous person, an Anishinabe, I am outraged, angry and feeling like going on a shooting spree of White people. However, I have White friends and don't feel it would be good for my soul if I were to go killing random White people. It may be satisfying but after the gun smoke and ringing in the ears have subsided, the dead bodies laying around at the legislative building may damper the whole event. I mean who wants to be standing around dead bodies? That wouldn't be joyful, I don't think, but I have never experienced a mass murdering killing before so what do I know. 

Can we bring joy into our lives without bringing misery into the lives of others? Getting back to having White friends, I think this is why there is so much hate and racism out there. White people should have more friends who are not White. Maybe then they won't be so inclined to carry hate for being White. As for bringing joy into our lives, there are a lot of ways we can think of without shitting down someones neck. My friend is in the hospital and has been there for more than five weeks. He is most likely my oldest living friend. I can remember us on the swing when we were about 8 years old at the Fort Alexander Indian Residential School. He was transferred to another boarding school when he was about 10. He is really sick and the way I deal with it, is to tease him relentlessly when I go visit. It brings joy, but sometimes it is too much for him and he tells me "don't be mean." So joy is not joy if it hurts someone. 

Of course there are the families, the kids, the spouses which bring us joy, but there are other things which can bring us joy as well. The sight of an old white guy walking into a pole as he is swearing at people protesting police brutality. Now that brings me joy; him not so much. The dog rolling around in the grass brings me some joy. The laughter of little kids, especially little Brown kids, they are so damn cute. Young couples enjoying themselves, this makes me happy. For me I think young people should be enjoying their youth, lot of time to become grumpy old buggers. A Nazi getting punched and knocked out brings me joy. A smile from a stranger will bring me joy. A good looking dog with a tail wagging and no growling brings me joy. The sight of Mr trump (small T on purpose) getting his hand slapped away from his woman brought me laughter as well as him walking up the Air Force One with toilet paper on his shoe. Not sure if laughter, happiness and joy are the same thing? The sight of an Eagle flying around brings me joy. The smell of sage and juniper brings me some joy. Having a good bowel movement with no remnants hanging around the anus is always joyful. Having a good cup of Earl Grey tea, reading a book on the deck when it is warm, sunny and you have tunes going, brings joy. 

Of course the scale of joy is all different. Still any amount of joy is good for us. There are so much things in the world which are putting us in distress, bringing us hurt, uncertainty and grief so let us find some joy in our lives. The search for joy should be interesting. I will keep my eyes open for some joy and hope you do as well. 

We Love Music Don't We

 When I was a kid, my parents had one of those big cabinet stereos. My Dad had a collection of albums which consisted of Jimmy Rogers, Hank Williams, Charlie Rich, Charley Pride, Johnny Cash and others. The collection wasn't huge. But if records weren't playing on the weekend, there was the radio, AM radio. Music was part of the home. My Dad could play the guitar but I never seen one in our home and only saw him playing one time at his  cousin's house.  He did have Mouth Harps in the home that we fooled around with as kids. It was strange the music stopped playing at my parents home but I am not sure exactly when or why. When I say the music stopped, it was they stopped playing records. The radio still had its place in the house but just as background noise in the kitchen. 

When my kids were small there was music playing in our home as well.  The stereo was always on and a cd or a tape cassette was on. It is funny, we never learned to play an instrument in our home. Noozhis is starting to fool around with a guitar now.  I am hopeful my grandson will take a liking to the guitar and continue to play and learn. I have two guitars in the house. I have never learned to play. I love music but I guess I am too lazy to learn how to play, so I am content with singing along to songs in the off key. I wonder why it is, not everyone can sing? I mean everyone can try sing but to actually sing with a good melody, why that is not the case? 

As a young kid, the Drum was not heard around the community. The Residential School, the Church and the government laws ensured the Drum disappeared from Indigenous life. Our community had almost lost their connection to their ancestral ways. There were some Elder's and families which still followed the Traditional Ways, but it was quietly done. The Church ruled the community and their music did not include the Drum. This has changed in our Reserve, the Drum has even entered the Church. I wonder what my deceased Granny would think of that? Lot of Old People embraced the Teachings of the Church and saw Traditional Teachings of the Anishinabe as "Witch Craft, Bad Medicine." The Drum has come back to our community, the larger Indigenous community and people are loving the music.  Still the old country gospel is still fondly listened to by the Indian community. A small town radio station in Manitoba  (Portage CFRY) has a Sunday two hour segment of song dedications, much of the request are for gospel songs. The majority of requests are from the surrounding Indigenous communities. 

Music, all types of music can touch our emotions. I think this is why we love music. For Indigenous people the Drum reminds them of the Heartbeat. Can you see it? Look at how far modern medicine has come today. The practice is to have a new born baby lay on the bare chest of their mother. This is the Heartbeat of the Nation. 

Can you see it? The love of music, the hearing of a Heartbeat is good medicine, even now used by modern medicine experts. 

We sure love music, don't we? We sure like to share music as well. We want others to experience the same joy, the same memory, the same sorrow we have with a song.  When I listen to music it almost always brings up some feeling, some memory and it takes me some where. Enjoy your music. 

Trolling For A Fight?

I have to admit I do like the debate, the civilized debate. A good discussion of point, counter point and a mutual respect of opinions. Ah, who I am kidding, I sometimes like to be a no-damn good troll. Of course not on a professional level, or even a good troll, but more like a wood tick type. The kind of troll who tries to make jokes but the jokes don't land well.  Either the jokes and teasing I try are lame, easy to dismiss, ignored or misunderstood. So the reaction to my jokes or teases is not always what I expect. Some people will actually get upset at my point. I have to admit when it comes to trolling, I am no good at it. I imagine a troll is like a wolverine. A wolverine is the subject of many fables about its savagery, its tenaciousness, its brutality and its strength. This is how I see the troll, I am non of that. I will engage but I will think about the interaction over and over and over. It sometimes plays in my head and makes my head feel soft like marshmallow (marshmello). So why do I do it? Why do troll for a fight?

It is just who I am I guess. I am that fella who will ask you a whole bunch of questions in a row. I will also say something which upsets you. Like I met this guy one time who was a casual acquaintance of someone I kind of knew. As we were sitting in a coffee shop, I looked at him, he was pretty good looking Indian guy with long hair (not Indian from India, but Canada and US's favourite image Indian), and I says, "are you a good person?" He looked at me and before he answered I said, "I want to make sure you are a good guy before I put effort into getting to know you." Anyways, that's me. 

A few years ago, maybe three or four, I commented on this young Native guy's social media page and I called him a gangster. I was teasing. I think I commented on a picture of his with another Native guy. I guess it may not have sit well with him. There are quite a few Native gangs where we live, so I imagine being labeled a gangster is not a good thing. I again commented on a social media page of his friend, there was picture of three young Natives in a car. I throw in some comment about watching out for the cops because a gangster in there. Little did I know I had pushed a dull screwdriver into a festering puss boil and popped it. The comments from the Native guy and his friend came quick and came angry. I countered but not with an all apology but with some soft lobs of explanation. The guy didn't seem to be having any of it. He said I most have a sad life and rather don't like my life. The friend of the guy, a young Native activist, was equally upset. She was rather strong in her support of the Native fellow. We bantered back and forth with me trying to weasel out of the jam without admitting I did anything really wrong. In the end I caved and apologized for my wrong doing. She took the moment to tell me to learn from what I did and go forward in life. This really bugged the shit out of me, a young Woman who had no clue as to my experience, my knowledge and my intent with the posts. So I pouted about this for a long while. That is why I am not a good troll. A Wolverine would just attack, go for the kill and piss on the remains so no other creature of the forest could feast on the spoils. This savagery is only that of the mighty wolverine, the master troll. Something I am not. 

It has been a few years and I still think of this trolling for a fight. I know it was with no ill intent but it caused a bit of a fracas. If I was a wolverine I would responded not with lame lobs of a soft marshmallow but with a ferocious savagery filled with venom and poison. I would have mauled them and left only a bloody carcass. Left only is the insalubrious mutilated warm bodies of a couple of pompous young Indians.  But I didn't maul them. Instead I am forced to use the passive aggressive almost cowardly story like this blog story. You see I am a teaser and a bad one. I was speaking at my Dad's funeral and thanked the staff for his care while in the Old Folk's Home. I went on to say "everyone worked so hard at the Home, even the fat ones." There is a notion (not held by me, which is why I mentioned them) that over weight people have a difficult time working steady. 

What I am trying to say is, I didn't attack the fellow on purpose. Throughout my life, gangster has been used by me on many people, even the one year old daughter of my neighbours. I called my deceased friend gangster many times over the years. He was a well respected Traditional Teacher and friend to many. To my kids, when ever we saw other kids riding bikes, I would say "gangsters." It was running gag that I still do with my adult children and now my grandchildren. Anyone who is wearing dark sunglasses I will say "gangster."  I say more outrageous things than gangster and even at inappropriate times. When my Mom was laying in the hospital bed having her stomach drained from fluid as her cancer was quickly killing her, the community Priest can to visit. I called him into my Mom's room and told him "my Mom wants you to do that holy roller stuff" as I made a cross gesture in the air. I even told him "I'm good me, Me and God are like that" as I crossed my fingers. The Priest said "I'll ask him." So he just rode with jokes. So it is my nature to just say things, and much of the time (not all) it is without malice. Perhaps sometimes it is a little mean spirited to slam and I should expect the reaction to be not pleasant. I guess the "super Indian, the more Indian than you," has always been my aunties heal (or some Greek story like that). My point is I say outrageous things that are many times more harsh than calling some entitled Indian a gangster.  

I think I am still upset over these two (bastards, the one, their Granny wanted out of Rez by marrying White, and the other one wouldn't know a jeet from a kit-ten). The over the top reaction and the pious, better Indian than you attitude still rubs me raw. Which actually means they own me. They most likely don't even remember the exchange. It is like the mosquito who bit you on the nose three years ago, gone. I have to get over it. It is something I have a hard time doing, letting something go. I was ripped off a number of times and it still festers, like a diabetic sore which won't heal, has turned to gangrene and is now at the bone. This is not good. The rot will only get deeper. I suppose the best way to avoid the festering, the seething, of deep feelings which turn into a cancer must be avoided in the first place. Funny because I have exchanges with racists, rednecks on the internet and it never bothers me at the time or later, weird. I have to stop being me, stop teasing if I can not handle over the top cry baby super Indians questioning my life (am I still pouting?).  There you have it, no more trolling for a fight.  But if an opening happens to arise for a pun, a poke, or a story, a tease well I am not sure what will happen.  I might have to get into another "debate" which the end result will be me pouting for years, again. 

Then again I could go with the standard come back, "F you and the arse you road on."