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Queen  Of  The  Everglades

2/24/2018

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It's good to be the Queen.

Even if it's for a day. Or in my case, for a few hours.

My big shot at being Queen of the Everglades came when we were on the run from Uncle Sam. Our Chief Busimanolotome Osceola-- founder of the New Seminole and my soon-to-be-father-in-law-- had left his son Nokosee in charge until he got back from doing some secret shit he wouldn't tell anyone about. It was Nokosee's job to make sure no one spotted us while daddy was away. To do that, Nokosee had us moving from one hammock hideout to another during the night. We stayed under camo covering the hammocks during the day. One day Nokosee took us to a hammock deep in the Everglades that had more than a stash of provisions and weapons. It also had a chickee throne room (see picture).
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I couldn't believe it. I knew Busi was certifiable because of his behavior (read my books) but this proved it.

Nokosee tried to explain the throne as an example of his dad's sense of humor (something I still hadn't seen at that time). Said the NS found it one night during a routine Alligator Alley hijacking. A tractor trailer was hauling scenery for some opera across the state when it had an “interrupted journey.” These IJs replenished the basic needs of the tribe, from food to “material” as Busi liked to say. He had it hauled out on an airboat to the middle of bumfuck nowhere and placed under a chickee. It's there he would “hold court” and listen to “his peoples'” complaints, suggestions, and wants. Oh, and if he was joking about some of this stuff, he was serious about one thing: no one could sit in his throne. Not even Nokosee. So, of course, when I heard this, I had to try it out.

First off, the Micco (Chief) should assign someone the job of keeping it clean and free of spider webs. It was filthy and covered with small Florida Brown Recluse spiders who can bite and cause a great deal of pain and suffering if not kill you outright.


Secondly, the seat of power needs some cushioning. After about an hour reading a book, my ass was numb.

When Nokosee found me he got all bent out of shape because he thought daddy would go ballistic and he didn't want that to happen since the “Great Chief of the New Seminole” and I were at war: it was his way or the highway, an Alpha Male butting heads with my own. BTW, that picture was taken by Nokosee on my smartphone. It caught me during my, as Busi liked to remind me, “Redbird” period. He had no problem letting me know he thought I looked like a “damn fool” and that “that much color in the Everglades will get you killed.” Started calling me “Target.”

“Hey, Target, for the sake of us all, please step behind that tree.”

“Oh, Redbird, would you mind flying someplace else?”

What a kidder.

Of course, I could dish it right back at him. My go-to-plan to make him even crazier was my reimagining of “counting coup,” that Plains Indians thing of sneaking up on your enemies and touching them before running away. No one gets killed but the enemy learns his enemy carries big balls beneath his loincloth (and might be loonier than you). My version was me sneaking up on Busi and standing behind him. That's it. No touching involved. Seeing him jump when he saw me in all my red glory and the laughter it brought to the NS and myself made it all worth while. Plus, it made me a great stalker. That came in handy in Book Two when I snuck up stark naked on an AK-47 carrying NS sentry after the tribe had thrown me into the wilderness (where I lost my clothes) with nothing but a compass to find my way back. They called it a “Walkabout” that would determine my worthiness but for all intents and purposes, it was mom and dad Osceola's evil plan to break me, to make me go running back to civilization where the A/C was always on.

Anyway, someone in the NS must have seen me and Nokosee getting it on on the throne-- hey, we were and still are horny in love-- and snitched on us to the Micco. Of course, he went ballistic as is his wont and, as is mine, I told him to “get real and stop pretending you're a fucking king.” That stunned Busi and the NS-- they didn't know where to look. As the Chief of the New Seminole's eyelids blinked uncontrollably while staring down at me, grasping for something to say and failing to come up with anything worthy of a kingly rejoinder, I grabbed Nokosee's hand and led him triumphantly away into the hammock jungle. Within a few seconds of ditching that ugly scene, we heard Busi scream: “You besmirched my throne! You are not worthy of my son!”

I stopped and looked up at Nokosee, giving him a look that expected an overwhelming declaration of his love for the woman holding his hand and the mother of his child-- something I still hadn't told him about (I couldn't find the right time what with all the chasing and running and shooting). He turned away and paused, thinking I'm sure, what could he possibly say to the King of the Everglades that wouldn't hurt his feelings? I squeezed his hand hard to help him come up with something. This is what he said:

“Wrong!” he shouted into the trees. “She's the best thing that ever happened to me! And I'm going to marry her!”

Well, I'd be lying if I told you that didn't catch me by surprise. It was my turn now for my eyelids to flutter uncontrollably-- and for tears to flood my eyes. That moment seemed like an eternity in a jungle that had been shut down of all sounds. Not even the insects were chirping. But it was only my imagination because an ungodly shriek was breaking through the seconds of silence. It was Nokosee's mom. Yeah, she didn't like me either (read the books).

Anyway, once I get sprung from the Miccosukee Embassy where I am doing Sanctuary, I hope to return with Nokosee-- and now our baby girl Haalie-- to that stage prop Busi once called a throne deep in the Everglades; to sit in it as a family and to tell Haalie some amazing and loving stories about the grandfather she'll never meet.  

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The  March  For  Our  Lives

2/21/2018

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Thinking about “The March for Our Lives” and how it reminds me of Nietzsche's idea of “Eternal Recurrence,” how everything repeats itself over and over again. The lyrics above are from a 1930's “organizing song” about a real man who was killed fighting for workers rights. Joan Baez made it a major hit in 1969 when she sang it at Woodstock. The lyrics need just a little tweaking to make the song resonate with its eternal relevancy today. I wonder if Baez will be singing it again somewhere in DC on March 24th to the grandkids of those young people she once sang it to nearly 50 years before? Somethings never change but maybe this time the cycle will be broken.
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March  and  Then  Skip  School

2/18/2018

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Senior Emma Gonzalez who delivered an impassioned speech a few days ago following the massacre of 17 Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School classmates and teachers, is organizing a March on Washington (March 24th) by students to get the Repugnicants to enact common sense gun laws. I wish them well but if the Sandy Hook Elementary body count didn't change their NRA hearts, I doubt if the march will either. 

However, perhaps something that may get their attention is for a nation of high school students to skip school following the march. And not return until new laws have been passed, especially ones that prohibit ownership of automatic weapons and require proof of sanity when purchasing a gun. That would be the single most disruptive act of civil disobedience in history. Bigger than anything Gandhi or Martin Luther King had ever accomplished or envisioned because these "connected" kids will use social media tools to organize and spread the word more effectively and faster than ever before. The effect would be so immediate it would cause our "leaders" to get off their fat asses to actually do something meaningful and patriotic with their lives.*

Of course if students opt for such action, they should expect the "adults" in DC will use every legal weapon they can to make them give up the "strike" and return to school. The simplest strike buster is to threaten them with summer school to make up for the time they missed. They may even threaten to hold back federal funding for the schools which will put pressure on the states and school boards to gang up against them. 

But in retrospect when they look back on their lives as teenagers, that nationwide strike they participated in was only a minor inconvenience. They didn't have to worry about losing a job while on strike and worrying about how they were going to feed their family. They didn't have to put their bodies on the line facing down factory goons sent in to beat them up. No, all they had to do was skip class for as long as it took. The smart ones will, of course, continue to study at home and in groups so that when they do return, they can pass any test thrown at them.

For the "strike for common sense" to work, millions of students will have to take that "risk" together, in solidarity. In the end, those who participated can look back proudly because they were part of the first in the history of the world strike by "children" against adults for something bigger than themselves.

Who knows, they might even save America by turning it from the self-destructive path it's on now from inclusiveness toward a tribalism that proudly embraces hatred and the status quo.

*Of course, it's really "all about the Benjamins" which, in the end, is the real reason this would get done. Even the NRA and arms manufactures don't have enough money to shore up their agendas against the pressure Big Business will put on those in DC to get America up and running again. 
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Another  Shooting...

2/15/2018

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These closing lyrics to Lori Rosolowsky's "Another Shooting" are sung to America the Beautiful: "America, America, was made for you and me/And even though kids kill with guns/At least our country's free." The song's ending is very powerful but not strong enough to change guns laws in this country. What's it take?

I posted this when I was just a kid on Tuesday, December 19th, 2006. After blogging, I shaved my head and started wearing a Mohawk. My parents thought I was nuts. They were right. I am nuts. And angry. This was  6-years before Sandy Hook. ​

"As the young bodies keep dropping all around us in Miami because someone was "disrespected" or someone wanted someone's rims or someone's girl or last, but not least, someone's money, check out these stats while listening to this catchy little ditty with a message: "Another Shooting" by Lori Rosolowsky.
  • In the last 18 months, 31 young people died from gunfire in Miami.
  • In a 2004 study by Sperling's BestPlaces, Miami was singled out as having the highest violent crime rate as well as one of the highest property crime rates.
  • In 2003, one kid or teen in the US was shot to death every three hours, nearly 8 every day, 54 a week, nearly 3,000 a year. 4 to 5 times that number survived bullet wounds.
  • The number of kids killed by guns in 2003 exceeded the number of American soldiers killed in Iraq for 2003 to April 2006.
  • More 10-19 year-olds died from gunshots than from any other cause in the US other than motor vehicle accidents.
  • Almost 90% of US kids killed by firearms in 2003 were boys.
  • Black kids are most likely to be victims of firearm homicide. In fact, the firearm death rate for Black males ages 15-19 is more than 4 times that of White males in the same age group.
Something ain't right in America. Something ain't right in Miami. One stat that isn't mentioned: 45,000 people are walking around with bullet wounds. That's a freaking city's worth of angry young people prone to "acting out." Lots of attitude. Lots of anger. Lots of bragging rights. We think about them "begatting" a new generation in a violent world that is the norm to them. Papa be bad. Papa be dead. Look at me wrong and you be dead too. So much anger and hatred. Where does it all come from? And what, if anything, can be done about it?"

As long as the NRA loving Republicans run the country, apparently nothing. But then we knew that when nothing was done to put some common sense guns laws into effect after Sandy Hook. If our children don't matter, we are doomed. 
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These  Shoes  Are  Made  For... Stalking.

2/13/2018

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Got these new shoes today from Nokosee. He think's they're a hoot. I'm loving them. He says except for my legs, no one will see them. Tried to walk around the Miccosukee Embassy in them but everything is wet. And it hasn't rained in weeks. The news says its because of global warming, that sea rise is outpacing Everglades restoration.  Beautiful. How's a New Seminole girl gonna embrace Our Mission while still "enjoy being a girl"?  Thankfully, Nokosee understands. Like the song says, he's my "brave free male who enjoys being a guy having a girl like me."
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Let's  Call  It  What  It  Is:  Fascism

2/6/2018

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My Revolutionary Mind
Words by Woody Guthrie/ Tom Morello, Music by Yim Yames
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Night is here again, baby,
I'm stretched out on my bed
Seeing all kinds of crazy notions
Running through my head;

I need a progressive woman;
I need an awfully liberal woman;
Ain't no reactionary baby
Can ease my revolutionary mind.

One hand is on my pillow
One hand is on my head,
I see a million nightmares
Runnin' 'round inside my head;

I need an anarchistic woman
I need an awfully liberal woman
Ain't no reactionary baby
Can ease my revolutionary mind.

If I could only make you see, babe,
How I ache and pain and bleed,
I know you'd come a runnin'
If you blistered both your feet.

I need a nature lovin' woman;
I need a social conscious woman;
Ain't no reactionary baby
Can ease my revolutionary mind.

If you could see me here, baby,
Broke out with salty sweat;
No matter where you go I know
You never could forget

I need a progressive shipmate; 
I need a liberous nature lover,;
I need an open-minded mama
To keep my revolutionary mind.

I ain't no lumpen proletariat,
And I ain't no petty bourgeoisie
But I'm gonna be a cold corpse
If you don't run here to me

I need a Weather Underground Woman;
I need a liberous nature lover,
Ain't no Fox News watchin' female 
Can ease my revolutionary mind.

If you're a Republican or a Democrat,
Or a white hood Ku Klux Klan,
No use to ring my doorbell
'Cause I'll never be your man

I need a union working woman
I need an Occupy Wallstreet woman,
I need a Woody Guthrie lovin' woman, 
To ease my revolutionary
Ease my revolutionary
Ease my revolutionary mind!
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​Woody Guthrie had a guitar with a message slapped on it that said: This machine kills fascists. One of his songs tells us that "all you fascists bound to lose."

Woody was optimistic which was pretty hard back during the Depression and WW2. Nowadays, with Trump in office and all the hate he's unleashed on the country it's hard to see things the way Woody did.

Tom Morello's updated version of this Guthrie song has become my favorite (even more so than This Country) ever since Nokosee introduced it to me.  Although he said I'm that woman Woody and Tom wants and needs and that he'd never share me (thanks, Nooksie!), I love how Morello slips in those zingers at both the Deplorables and the Democrats because, let's face it, I'm a New Seminole and what we did and are doing (read my books) leaves us but little choice to sing along. And act out. 

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OREOS™  ARE  NEW  SEMINOLES  OFFICIAL  COOKIE

2/4/2018

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What? "Eco Terrorists" can't have an "official cookie"? 

Nokosee and I bonded over Oreo™ cookies when we were living on the run in the Everglades. Busimanolotome Osceola, Nokosee's father and founder of the New Seminole, loved them and joked if Uncle Sam ever offered a lifetime supply of the stuff, he'd surrender in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, if you read my books, my father-in-law never got that option because of the Army Rangers assault on our Everglades campsite many moons ago. 

Now that our darling little girl Haalie has joined up, dipping the hallowed cookie in the same glass of milk with mom and dad has become the thing us Osceolas look forward to doing every night before going to bed. * It connects us to our past and Haalie to a grandfather she'll never know except through the stories we tell over a glass of milk with Oreos™ in our hands.

*When Nokosee has sneaked back into the Miccosukee Embassy, of course. And yes, that's a New Seminole "Bad Ass" Spices label we slapped on a glass to remind you folks that they're still available on our Store page and yes, we are an enterprising lot for an organization that made the FBI's "10 Most Wanted List." As for those Trade Mark signs, I think adding them is a hoot and that's why they're there.
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    "You talkin' to me?"

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