Saturday, March 29, 2008

Ghost Riders in the Sky

I was shopping today at BJ's- not THAT kind of bj, pervs. Why would anyone shop for that kind of bj anyway?! I'm talking about one of those wholesale warehouse places where nothing is ever really a bargain and is usually crammed with Mormon types buying a year's supply of toilet paper and whole wheat bread for their 27 kids or rich yuppie couples (are they even called yuppies anymore?) loading cases of Diet Coke into their Escalade. And I am neither a Mormon type nor an Escalade type. I go because they hand out free samples on the weekends. FREE SAMPLES. I'm the free food type.

So while wondering if I really needed the "bigger bargain pack" of country style ribs (of course I did), I overheard (eavesdropping, really) some women talking about the travesties of the Indians (yeah, yeah I know, Native Americans...but that's too long to type. So POLITICAL CORRECTNESS BE DAMNED, I'm typing the shortest word possible) in this area. Say WHA?! Stupid makes my guts boil. People who talk about something like they know what really went down when they DON'T KNOW JACK makes the creature that lives in my guts want to burst out of my stomach a la Alien, slap the Ignorant Broads with a glove and challenge them to a duel. So I butted in and politely corrected them that the Indians weren't actually brutally slain here, but merely given the boot as a result of the French and Indian war and were pushed out of PA and down into the south. I was all UP their faces with knowledge. And if School House Rock has taught me anything (which it hasn't) it's that KNOWLEDGE IS POWER. You best not step to me OR my Guts Creature,or we will open a can of History 101 on yo' ass.

Mensa-like smarts and stunning good looks aside, I do wish I was a bit craftier and less impatienter. Oh this girl IS crafty like ice is cold but not so much in the glue gun and puffy paint way. These vintage 50's Cowboys and Indians cards from Brookerpie would make some kind of cool project that I haven't thought of yet, perhaps involving shellac and a coffee table.


More artsy fartsy fodder is this vintage 60's Indian symbol postcard from Alpenhimmel

Because you *just never know* when you'll need to know Indian symbols. In fact from now on, instead of signing my name as Kim, I'm just going to write the symbol for Gila Monster.

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