Monday, February 07, 2005

Suicide is the permanent solution for a temporary problem.

Top of the morning gents,

I'm beating a dead horse, again.

We've all been touched by suicide, especially us
Siberian Mongoloids living north of 70 lat.

"Touched" may be a bit reductive. More like pissing
on the electric fence that surrounds my parents
horses. News of a suicide is more upsetting than
learning you've got cancer, AIDS, or finding an empty
coffee can at O Dark Thirty in the goddamn morning.

I've bitched, raged, and ranted vehemently about the
needlessness of scratching the roof of your mouth with
the iron sites of your old fashioned, yet inherently
safe and reliable wheel gun.

Quoting the Joe Garroutte of my youth, "Laugh all you
want Gilligan, them old wheel guns that Larry and
Columbo carry are usually magnums."

I wouldn't mind being called Gilligan, if not for me
and Higbitch's neighbor Gill Hall shooting his teeth
out the back of his cranium, but not apologizing for
splitting a shit load of pre-adolescent boy pussy.

Egads, what a monster.

I sure miss you guys. As coworkers, not my arresting
officers. You sick fucks sure busted my balls.

All you bastards could have been a little easier on
me, I was a cherry to the horrors you handled every
day. All I did was ask lots of questions about native
violence, propensity for murder, and stampedes of
suicides. I didn't necessarily need honest and candid
responses. I still wince at my upset.

Jaw dropping candor and brutally factual honesty from
Blanchard, Westlake, Hecker and Nay created a
shockwave that I'm still recovering from. Those years
at KPD and fucking around in the VPSO program really
altered my life, and for the worse.

After being gone for 15 years, then working with my
father on his commercial properties all over
Washington, illustrated a chasm between my folks,
sibs, and my bomb making playground pals from the
killing fields of the Pacific Northwest. Ya see, we
don't kill ourselves, we killed other fuckers.

Nobody outside Alaska is even remotely aware of the
horrific violence you fuckers spilt on my uniforms,
both brown and blue. My tales are met with disbelief
and dubious credibility. Insulated and comfortable
suburban white trash refuse to listen or understand
Alaska's extraordinary suicide statistics.

In America, (remember that place?) suicide is mostly
exercised by elderly white men. Not asswhooping young
native boys.

What's up with that?

The Mrs. speculates that after high school (teenager
daycare) there's a kind of abandonment. When a lad
graduates from high school, he's no longer coddled,
suckled, and spoiled. Now he's on his own, completely
unprepared to compete against Chermaine, Capt.
Gardner, and yours truly. Sucks to be a product of
Alaska public schools, cuz we'll smoke yer dumb ass.
And rub your face in it too.

You'll never meet Chermaine or Gardner, they were
smart enough to flee the dumbest state in the union
for employment down yonder where brains trump skin
color daily.

Imagine if those two moved with me to Barrow or
Kotzebue. There'd be 3 sets of butt cheeks sticking
out of the dirt for local natives to break a piece off
into and pop in for a cold one.

Call me a sick fuck. Trained by the best.

I truly miss the company of my brilliant colleagues
with 3 digit IQ's. I still brag about those two.
Even as I write.

The Great Alaska Brain drain is real. The Mrs. is
also interested in leaving this Arctic shithole for
warmer climates, and warmer neighbors.

What? Ya think she's gonna stick around her own
people that disgust her?

Fuck! The only time she was safe from rapin'
buttfucker brothers and uncles was when she was away
at boarding school. She tells me stories of how
scared and nervous she and all her Eskimo girl friends
got when it was time to go home for the summer.

Fuck the negative and phony "BIA Boarding School"
rhetoric. Being sent far from home taught all these
Siberian beauties that interfamily rape is filthy,
sick, and ethno-specific.

I puke at the failings of rural shit ass village
schools. All our community leaders are graduates from
BIA schools. The local niggers tend to stay drunk and
can still taste their dad's dick on their sisters
vulva.

Here's the piss off: BIA grads almost never kill
themselves, only the pitiful locally schooled Siberian
infant spoogers.

So, is it unfair that my Bessie Ootoyuk shares
cultural rape and trauma secrets with this Finn?

Fuck no.

We have 1 suicide every 2 days in Alaska. In light of
the fact that these hopeless fools can't find their
own ass in the dark, only the asses of their children,
I'll try to "suspend my willful disbelief."

Maybe it's for the better.

Remember, I already buried (incinerated) my wife's
son. That 75 cent rifle cartridge cost me a bit over
5 figures.

Next time around, I'll simply phone Columbo and Nay to
pick up my trash and back the patrol car up to the
rear entrance of the crematorium.

Suicides are far too irrelevant for me to ever dust
off my check book again.

You boys are my heroes, which includes all you vicious
coppers, and me mates Chermaine and Gardner at UAF.

Despite your nasty tales from graveyard shift.

Karl.

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