Friday, July 08, 2005

Kayakpuk Pusser

Date: Wed, 25 May 2005 09:39:09 -0700 (PDT)
From: "Patrick Octuck"
Subject: Walking Tall
To: "Karl F. Ewing"

Hiya Karla,

Just think, ten years ago sexual assault was hard to
talk about in most communities. Now kids are killing
themselves and selling drugs.

When I was growing up the hardest drug I ever saw was marijuana now kids are walking around with lots of Meth and cocaine.

Sounds like another "Walking Tall" movie to me Karla.

You know your part in that movie, you big dumb redneck.

I still can't believe a drunken 17-year-old Eskimo girl would be walking around with 2 ounces of crystal meth. That's enough drugs to kill even a crazy white dude, ah Karlukmun?

The drug community there in Barrow may never get jail time so they will keep abusing their children just like this one.

I'm with you there Karla, our rural communities are disgusting and embarrassing. I never thought so many Eskimos were so much like disgusting Indians on disgusting reservations and white trash on the military bases. I always thought we were just like bun says, higher class of nigger.

Soon you will be considered an adult at 16, which will hopefully reduce my client caseload. You should see the pile on my desk.

Good writing there karla,



Top of the morning gents,

I'm surrounded by smart asses.

Our dude that was a former cop has cut out all the middlemen and is directly intervening on behalf of our smaller citizenry, Alaskan children. The jury is still out if I ought to be insulted or flattered with comparisons to a big redneck that can't keep a car between the ditches.

That's what makes me most proud to know you bastards; you've incorporated your wisdoms (and extraordinarily violent tendencies) into your new careers. I breathe a sigh of relief knowing you battered, beaten and scarred village copper gladiators are working for the greater good.

Last night me and Mrs. chatted over tea and Indun fried bread about how all you uniformed felons have kept the faith and evolved into more advanced and lethal life forms. God bless ye.

I brought up Pat's Walking Tall analogy, which she chuckled and agreed with. She says it's quite a site to see my interactions with drunken neighbors and smaller browner relatives.

'Interactions' is an amusing description of my busted knuckles, chipped teeth and swollen lips, and a few busted rifles resembling Eskimo children with hair and blood on the butt.

You would've chuckled if you sat in the courtroom during my village banishment hearing. Under oath I had to endure testimony describing me as:

* a killer wanted by Interpol
* a smuggler
* a 200 pound hybrid dog rapist
* a bomb builder that puts them under my neighbors' houses
* and that I gave a little girl shrunken head brain cancer with my mind and that I can kill people with only a thought

Weird, the other day I was also scolded for being egomaniacal and using the local radio and press as my personal playthings.

Things that make you go Hmmm. Looking back, I don't think I'm any more of a sinner than any of you lads.

Which by the way doesn't set the bar very high. Hooah!

Yes, I've been arrested numerous times and have a criminal record longer than your dicks. But since none of you can check my arrest records in any of the countries I was incarcerated in, I can play the Native game of child rape, DENIAL.

I can still remember every single time I got busted. I have MCA's, arson, bombing, theft, malicious mischief, and grand larceny charges on my sealed juvenile record, with similar charges on my records in Estonia and Finland, but you don't get the truth, cuz "you can't handle the truth". I'm far worse of a despicable human than my shame allows me to disclose.

Funny, every place I've ever pissed, shit and squirted sperm, I mixed it up with local cops and local criminals. My hun-bun chides me for having both horns and halo; just like you butt fuckers.

I'm my only advocate, so I gotta stick up for my wife and I, batter and abuse drunken natives, AND take out a UAF professor, wrestling coach, judo expert, and boxing trainer who thinks he can dump shitty drugs on my blessed Inupiaq community.

The life of a contract agent sucks and is a highly overrated and thankless fucking job. I now have zero friends; aside from this conspiracy network of visible and invisible am cop talk newsletter recipients.

Nope, I won't be volunteering for any more black bag jobs 'round these parts anymore. My beloved native brethren will likely continue raping their young, drinking their grocery budget, and committing their own cultural suicide for another 10,000 years. This tall Finnish version of Buford Pusser has to return to his origins and clean up unfinished business.

Hence, I'll happily sign on for said work down south in yonder lesser 48 after the Mrs. retires.

This is why I won't be visiting any of my pals in Washington, cuz I'll be forced to entrap them, or bury them up at my grandpa's dead Indun dump site at 7-lakes. If this feral Finn can kill, butcher and eat his own beloved pets back on the farm, putting a pistol in the mouths of me mates back home ain't nothin' but a thing. Shit, beats jerking off to confidential dossiers and classified intelligence reports.

Jesus never returned to Nazareth to preach, but I'm tempted to eat some killer serial rich in vitamins and minerals and do my humping best to hatch a turd consisting of my buddies from my youth.

Never say never.

It's Friday gentlemen, wish y'all could join me way up here for a drink. Alas, those wonderful thoughts are best saved for my possible visits to Galena, Delta Junction and Fairbanks.

Rumor has it my pals there still enjoy my company, provided I bring lots of muktuk, caribou legs, and crates of firearms.

I'm that kind of guy; neither good nor evil.

Have gun, will travel. Fuck all.



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