Bedtime in Alaska – Open Thread!
20 02 2009It’s been a busy news day, and a busy day in my “real” life as well. The comments are piling up, so here’s a shiny new open thread to discuss the events of the day. I’ll try to play catch up tomorrow!
G’night Mudflatters!
February 20th, 2009 at 7:54 PM
WONDERING…
will Sarah the GINO bill the state for talking to Preacher Man, I mean all the phone calls with him [& others] that it took to whip this media even togethr?
February 20th, 2009 at 8:02 PM
Oh- the ghastly gov out-ghasted herself today with that interview.
Well- Alaskans we will just have to get a new leader, ya know.
This one doesn’t offer ANYTHING to young peoplelooking toward their future.
Nor to elders, nor families …
February 20th, 2009 at 8:30 PM
I couldn’t finish watching her crap on youtube…she looks sooo annoyed about having to do her job! …nothing she says makes any sense.
word salad was a good description somebody gave.
February 20th, 2009 at 8:32 PM
where’s the first dud? during the campaign, we couldn’t stop looking at his mug and now he’s nowhere…is he still shredding evidence?
February 20th, 2009 at 9:27 PM
@Lainey – most likely the Toddle is shredding his marriage certificate and planning the rest of his life. After that shameless self-parody of stump speech talking points and “drill baby drill” as she jets off to tell rural Alaskans to just move to the city and get a job, I wouldn’t just divorce her, I’d move to another state and request annulment of the marriage under mental health provisions.
In fact if I were the first DUD I would get myself into a witness protection programme in Moldovia and get some serious plastic surgery.
@BigPete – oh thanks ever so muchly for that link – I heart Helen and Margaret! I especially like their take on rabid dog, bigfoot Coulter (man those babies could stand (sorry) in as tacky carnival floats).
February 20th, 2009 at 9:38 PM
@Barbette…lol
that would be sweet revenge, wouldn’t it? do you think dud is smart enough to know what he’s gotten himself into?
February 20th, 2009 at 10:12 PM
Michigander
Have any of you read the following interview? I am horrified by Palin’s disrepect. Does she not get how she comes off sounding? She truly disgusts me.
—–
It takes a lot of gall, or it takes the sort of insular, self-satisfied worldview that results from believing that White western-Europe-derived Evangelical Christians truly are God’s pet project and crowning achievement.
Confession time here–I actually understand Governor Palin (since I’m not an Alaska resident I feel a certain formality is called for) better than I would like to. I grew up on a Native American reservation in the days when Anglos could, with a certain amount of finagling, purchase “Indian” land, which they would then sell to other Anglos. A good part of the “reservation” where my parents bought is actually in the hands of people who have no blood ties to the Native Americans whose land this was supposed to be, but, in the words of Arlo Guthrie, that’s not what I came to talk about.
As a child, I was familiar with the sight of inebriated Native Americans staggering past our driveway on their way from town back to the heart of the Rez. It was illegal in town to sell booze to “Indians,” but it happened all the time. I can remember seeing the old men with their thin, delicate gray braids, wrapped in faded blankets, leaning against sunlit bars, the doors black mouths beside them. As a child, I saw the terms “Indian,” and “drunk Indian” as synonymous–it seems strange and sad now.
When we took our garbage to the town dump (which was deep in the heart of the Rez) we went past the tar-paper and tin can shacks where the Indians lived, with their scrappy, battered ponies out back and their big, beautiful pick ups and Cadillacs out front, hubcap deep in mud.
And we felt so superior, so smug. “Why don’t they fix their houses up?” we asked each other. “Why do they live in such squalor and pour all their Indian Money (and we said that with a certain curl of the lip, because it was Welfare, in our eyes) into their cars?” “Drunk Indians…stupid Indians…dirty Indians…”
Our school took field trips to the Whitman Mission in Washington. Part of the museum’s display was a small animated diorama, in which an Indian tomahawked Narcissa Whitman, over, and over, and over again. Outside, we could see the outlines of the buildings, and even, because the historians were very thorough, and our teachers had been at pains to explain before the field trip, identify the very spots where various members of the ill-fated mission had died.
Those field trips hammered the lesson home–Indians were too lazy, stubborn, and stupid to take advantage of all the benefits the nice white missionaries had brought them along with God and the measles.
The years passed, and the Indians became Native Americans and started taking a more active role in wildlife conservation. They built a casino. And then they built a museum. The Anglo locals don’t like it much–they tend to discount it as a lot of Indian whining. Visitors to the Round-up every year seem to enjoy it, though. I enjoy it, too. It’s a lovely, peaceful place, very quiet, almost church-like, even though it’s just up the road from the casino.
The Discovery Channel had a wonderful program about the Rez. As I watched, I found myself seeing familiar scenes in a new way. I had understood that having an alien way of life imposed upon them had been devastating to Native American culture, but I had never realized how deep it bit–how language, thought, and ways of being in the world were not just lost, but in many cases deliberately savaged to weaken the “Natives,” and make them more compliant.
I saw the tragedy of a culture so lost, so depressed, that it literally drowned itself in the bottom of a bottle. And I finally understood about the power of cultural values. The big, shiny pickups in front of the tin shanties weren’t the mark of foolish waste, but one of the tattered vestiges of a culture where one’s house was a lodge, transportable, replaceable, temporary–but transportation was the key to survival, and therefore to wealth and status.
It’s funny to have an “aha” moment in front of the TV, but I did. I realized that I would never look at the Rez in the same way again–and now, when I drive through it, I see different things. I don’t see a substandard, cut-rate community that is too lazy to follow the stern, uplifting, “pull-yourself-up-by-the-seat-of-your-pants” Calvinist Christianity, but a community built on different values, no better, no worse–just different. And increasingly I am seeing that community is beginning to reclaim itself. There are classes to teach the children the language and culture that was almost lost. There are nurseries now that help to provide the plants for reforesting denuded areas, particularly along spawning streams. Even the local pageant has abandoned its “Roy Rogers/Dale Evans” Indian village in favor of a moving, beautiful discussion of what it means to exist in the midst of a culture that has gone to great lengths to destroy your soul. We may be learning now, but we can’t undo the past. And that past was fueled by an unthinking assumption that we Europeans were OF COURSE ordained by God to bring the benefits of Civilization (read shirts for ladies who went bare-breasted on occasion, pants for men rather than breech-clouts, medicine, and oh yes, a new God who decreed that everyone live Just Like Us) to the Natives.
It was done in the name of love–love of God, love, even of the indigenous peoples. The assumption was that they would of course instantly recognize the clear superiority of our way of doing things, and therefore of us. Rudyard Kipling wrote a poem about it, “The White Man’s Burden.” William Blake did, too. His starts, “I am black, but oh, my soul is white…”
And that unthinking assumption, right there, that having a “white” soul is better than having a “black” soul, lies at the core of such things as Governor Palin’s visit to the village, and her remarks. Her insistence that the young people of the village would of course be better off if they went and, oh, worked in the mines, or in the oil fields (and if the Alaskan Native People’s attitude toward the land is anything like the Native People’s attitude where I live both would be deeply offensive), or maybe they could be teachers in the villages.
Nice. Why could they not be teachers in Anchorage? If we’re going to insist that they fit themselves into our world, why must we assume that they are suitable only for manual labor, or for “teaching in the villages?” Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but as I read her remarks all I could think of was the way that the people among whom I grew up regarded the Native Americans–that bone-deep scorn that placed them somewhere below us and just above the dogs that snarled and fought in the mud under the beautiful pickups–and just a little lower than the beautiful horses that we bought from them when we wanted to improve our stock.
I am not a “bleeding heart.” I am, if anything, extremely pragmatic. I am fully aware that I am not personally responsible for the plight of the Native Americans. Nor am I really culpable in the matter of childhood prejudice. I didn’t do those things–but people I understand did. The culture in which I prosper exists on stolen property.
That bell can’t be unrung, but to deny that it was rung in the first place is to compound the wrong. There was a war here. The Anglos won. the Native Americans lost. And in the losing they lost their very way of being–it would be like us being conquered by, oh, say, the Easter Islanders. How do you forget everything you have ever known, believed, or dreamed? How do you agree that the new god is better than the God you have grown worshipping, believing in, counting on in the darkest times? How do you become a man or woman when all the rituals you have to mark your passing from child to adult are gone?
The Native American culture is finding its way back, and I, for one, am in awe that so much has been saved in the face of such opposition. The Rez is not a recreation of the lost way of life–but the people are finding ways to use traditional skills–and to turn cultural values to profit. There’s even a new business park. “Coyote Business Park,” it’s called, and I laugh every time I go by, and think of Coyote, the trickster, and how very, very appropriate the name is. It’s a warning for those who care to heed it–don’t come to the Coyote Business Park unless you’re prepared to strike a careful, sharp business deal. The people who built it are clever, and you just might find yourself getting a very different deal than the one you imagined.”
I pointed it out to my sister. She smiled politely and commented, “Only you would know about something like that.” She said it like that wasn’t a particularly good thing, but I don’t know. I like Coyote, who spins delicate, elaborate traps from his victims’ own character flaws, and so brings justice with humor, with flair, and with the sort of elegance that we see in neoclassical music–building, building, building to the final, resounding, right chord.
And so, though I have no right to command him, since he is not mine, the next time I pass his business park I will ask, politely, if he won’t lend a hand to the villages up north.
Enough–I’ve gone on far, far too long. Sorry…
February 20th, 2009 at 10:31 PM
@ Bodie P
Thank you. Not too far at all
February 20th, 2009 at 10:43 PM
OT sorta (except it’s the kitchen)
Huff post
“WASHINGTON — The Obama administration, siding with the Bush White House, contended Friday that detainees in Afghanistan have no constitutional rights.”
That’s Afghanistan, not Gitmo.
I don’t care. Did the Geneva Convention have an expiration date?
And, I thought the Bill of Rights was partly to disavow that “imprison ‘em until they rot” mindset.
bummin’ here.
February 20th, 2009 at 10:52 PM
Bodie – Awesome. Thanks for taking the time to write this.
February 20th, 2009 at 11:07 PM
BodieP–Wow, what insights you’ve acquired in your lifetime. I think, if you ask respectfully, that Coyote would be pleased to listen and hear you.
And it’s the Bedtime In Alaska thread, where nothing, truly, is OT…
February 20th, 2009 at 11:31 PM
Worth Repeating >
BardetteNo Gravatar (21:27:46) :
@Lainey – most likely the Toddle is shredding his marriage certificate and planning the rest of his life. After that shameless self-parody of stump speech talking points and “drill baby drill” as she jets off to tell rural Alaskans to just move to the city and get a job, I wouldn’t just divorce her, I’d move to another state and request annulment of the marriage under mental health provisions.
In fact if I were the first DUD I would get myself into a witness protection programme in Moldovia and get some serious plastic surgery.
@BigPete – oh thanks ever so muchly for that link – I heart Helen and Margaret! I especially like their take on rabid dog, bigfoot Coulter (man those babies could stand (sorry) in as tacky carnival floats).
Y’all sound plenty angry. You best be checking out: http://www.mudflats.com
Sarah Palin is like a tacky carnival float. Mudflats is diferent.
February 21st, 2009 at 1:10 AM
Lainey said:
“I couldn’t finish watching her crap on Youtube….”
For a minute, Lainey, I thought you caught her on Youtube sitting on the toilet!
February 21st, 2009 at 3:05 AM
I keep hearing about how Palin can’t declare the villages a disaster to provide aid,so I thought I would look up the issue.Can anyone find anything in this link to Alaskan law that prohibits her from doing so ? Here in the Gulf coast states,Governors declare emergencies as needed by different areas of the states that are hit by hurricanes,tornadoes,etc.Never any talk about how they do or don’t fit the legal requirements,just the Governors judgement.
http://touchngo.com/lglcntr/akstats/STATUTES/Title26/Chapter23/Section020.htm
February 21st, 2009 at 9:19 AM
Canuck for Choice – I meant Coulter’s feet could stand in as carnival floats.
February 21st, 2009 at 1:30 PM
thanks bodie p. that was great….b
February 21st, 2009 at 6:24 PM
My, my, what condescending white trash talk that SP spews. Unbelievable. She went there to scold and insult them then? These plane loads of food, why must they come with conditions?
Not to be a stick in the mud, but, Ripley in CT brings up a point…the King Air 90’s cargo weight=3,100lbs. The 100’s is 4,708lbs… 2 planes… what’s going on.
Why is it that the first nations people need to do what white people do constantly? If it wasn’t placing them in residential schools, banning them from speaking their language to placing them on reservations….always accompanied by some ‘christian’ trying to convert them. What year is this anyways? Why is the ‘church’ involved with politics. Oh, it’s SP, I see, nuff said.
SP fails to acknowledge that these communities are hard pressed by dwindling herds and salmon, preventing them from exchanging their work for money to purchase fuel — whose price has risen, due to a lack of shipment because of an early freeze up…
SP has a sloped forehead the way she preaches that everyone from these communities ought to work on the north slope. Are they hiring? I doubt it. Where is the housing to accommodate 500 [say] new hires on this north slope? What absolute BS!
Thanks for the white wash, SP. now piss off.
Thanks for that link, BodieP — brill. Re: Your piece on the Rez…well done! My introduction to First Nation’s people may have been the stereotypical one you may see in a major city, but I had the curiosity to attend Pow Wow’s around the Great Lakes. I’ve always wondered why this was never taught in school, back in my day. Was it because it was a Catholic school? Hmm. No matter — the culture and its people are wonderful, the dances, the regalia, the drumming and the food and conversation. I spend many a weekend camping at these events — they’ve all been amazing experiences.
Way to go Lee323, well said.
CCH — LOL!
February 21st, 2009 at 6:32 PM
Thx Bodie for an interesting read!
February 21st, 2009 at 7:24 PM
You’re welcome for the read, folks–it’s funny; until this last election I never thought much or wrote about stuff like this, now I do all the time. More to the point, I never really had a place for sharing such things before. I LOVE this blog, and this group. And the avatar names? I read down the list and it’s like being transported to another world–a world where I suddenly realize that I have something to say that others might think worth hearing. Maybe it’s just age setting in–now I’ve finally seen enough of life to feel qualified to offer commentary. I’m going to be a hellish old lady in the nursing home; I’ll never shut up. They’ll have to give me a room by myself…
February 21st, 2009 at 7:50 PM
bodieP– can I be your hellish roommate if they don’t give you a single?
February 21st, 2009 at 8:32 PM
@BodieP (19:24:40) : AND the problem child (an aunt, also) (19:50:46) :
Yup, I think the two of you might make a great pair of roommates, you two troublemakers, you!
February 21st, 2009 at 9:14 PM
I believe we might–clacking our dentures and slamming our walkers against people’s legs and cursing at random passing children and bathing FAR less often than we should, and buttonholing relatives and making rude remarks about other relatives not present. None of the nurses would want to give us our meds–they’d probably use and elephant gun and dart us from out in the hallway.
February 21st, 2009 at 9:15 PM
Geez, I can’t spell–that should be “AN elephant gun.”
February 21st, 2009 at 11:33 PM
BodieP – Your response touched me and keeps me motivated. I hope you publish your words, you have a gift. I write in my mind, speak seldom, but care so much. Thank – you
February 22nd, 2009 at 9:04 AM
Thanks back, Michigander–which part do you live in? I’m reasonably familiar with the UP.