Monday, October 17, 2005

I gotta lick my ass just to get the taste of rural Alaska outa my mouth.

Top of the morning gents,

You gotta love Alaskan violence.

I do.

I used to defend Alaska when debating my colleagues overseas over niceties and atrocities human. Northern Finland has similar rates of alcoholism, property crime and violence, so did my stops in Siberia both respite and incarcerate. American national violence statistics are now at a 30-year low, while Alaska’s violence is ALWAYS alcohol related and increasing slightly faster than population growth.

Playing with really bad people in Seattle, Dutch Harbor and Kotzebue readied me for the overt thuggery and bullying we see in equally less civilized villages and towns.

If our rural Alaska villages possessed enforceable rules of fair play and good faith in dealing and treating our neighbors, guys like me would never have a chance or corrosively corruptive foothold into your highly addictable sub-consciousness. I can detect childhood trauma a mile away and decades ago; it’s a gift allowing me to peg compulsive customers of ethnic handicap and self-discipline non-existent.

But that's what makes Alaska unique and a magnet for sick natives and cruel witches (white bitches) like yours truly: zero community support for policemen and constables. In Alaska, no good deed goes unpunished and nobody says thank you; especially to the cops.

Self-deprecation is an art and a science. I may beat up on issues near and dear to our hearts and farts, but regardless of my relegation to either help or hindrance, solution or problem: ain’t nobody’s fault but mine. Those poor Alaskans don’t know any better but I should.

Blame is easy; shouldering our own responsibilities for neighborhood and village carnage is a bitch. As I look around the room at all your killers in uniform, I see ingeniously fallible fuck ups and flawed angels. Make sense?

Ya see, each of us shares responsibility for our neighbors missing teeth, bruised marital status and children gaped before their first boner or old enough to bleed yet breed without telling on dad.

I gotta take a break, the cops are finally here.

*Okay, quick synopsis.

While typing this submissive sarcastic, our house was shaken with a boom so I left my station here at the keyboard and ran into foot deep snow with only ankle length socks on to see whose ‘snogo bump my house’. To my anger a punk ice nigger had rallied his snogo sled into the rear foundation of the duplex and was quickly trying to pull his shit back out and free his Mongoloid PONTIAC.

Seeing me and hearing me truly pissed and most potently hacked off is never a dick-hardening affair, but telling me to pound sand in modern ghetto mod nomenclature will guarantee I’ll unleash one of my best mudsling tirades of the most racist flavor.

Which is what I did.

I cursed and cussed that little bag of shit word for word, spittle for spittle derivative of moments of prayer with Mack, surly insults at gunpoint from Ken Jewell, and some ingredients plagiarized from Westlake’s horrifically intimidating bark down and overwhelmingly loud yell downs. All key moments and life changing experiences shaping me into the wonderful and beautiful human I’ve become 4 and 20 years later.

Fuck ye. I didn't crush his ribs and gonads like Columbo and I didn't split his eyelids and eyebrows like the Sgt.

Why can’t I merely caress this troubled native lad and positively respond to his pleas for understanding?

“It’s cuz I hate fucking niggers.” (C. Eastwood-Alcatraz) Which is what happens when all my Eskimo town folk believe BET and hip-hop behavior is authentic, realistic and a sympathetic portrayal of African-American culture. I’m neck deep in slang from every culture on cable TV blended with a once lovely language of ancient origin.

Ingulish? InuFro? Hip-upiaq? EskiFro? I give up. It all tastes and smells like ass and rotten teeth.

I didn’t decipher every consonant this toothless suicide candidate spit back at me, but I deduced it wasn’t too far from Fuck You Asshole: versus Sorry dude, I’ll be happy to pay for any damages.

Where the fuck do I think I am?

My buddy Felton always reminds this ain’t Seattle nor Helsinki. "Yer livin' in Niggerville dude." "Even us natives fucking hate Barrow 90% of the time, the other 10% we're passed out drunk."

After Bun and I went next door to have a brief word with his mum, I thought this was put to bed and over with.

I was wrong.

Snigger punk #1 was pounding on my front door with 2 of his cousins: Snigger punk #2 and Snigger punk #3. As I opened the door I was greeted with hostilities verbal, nothing I couldn’t handle.

Until all 3 snigger thugs started pushing their way into the doorway and courteously advising me they were gonna kick my fucking ass.

This isn’t what I expected or tolerated, so I barked a ‘get the fuck outa here’ shoving 3 darky skin wasters back a skoatch and slamming the door. Then it was pigger time.

Meaning I don’t gotta sort out neighborly conflict, albeit of niggardly significance and consequence, I let piglet brown shirts play aboriginal retard paddy cake.

Last Fall, I was advised whilst in handcuffs that I can’t lay another hand on anybody in Barrow and let the bacon bits play queerleader and playground teacher.

Fun huh?

Shit no. I can’t shoot their runt leg femorals, chop carotids, nor spray pepper mace on minority kids for fun anymore. Fuck me running.

So after a brief pushing match I phoned the NS coppers requesting their questionably professional services.

Which is what I received.

Imagine arresting 3 kids for getting shoved off an icy porch by an old fart, white nigger no less.

After chatting with officers Fife and Griffith I agreed that bygones and apologies from the boys is best, not telling a soul I’m off for a long vacation in mere days.

Dropping off the Earth from family, relatives, village cohorts and hunting partners, but not kindred souls is impossible if I gotta stick around for court hearings up the ass forever. Remember, I’ve been through this shit a hunnert times. I married an Eskimo and conflict resolution is a no-brainer and a no-show on reservations packed with inner city examples of failed inbreeding.

I’ve been through this a hunnert times now. Still think shooting Snigger punks trio with either shotgun or pistol might’ve given me a woody.

Fuck I’m so much like my paps and grandpaps: meaner’n shit and just looking to butcher folks for any reason either trespass or ethnicity.

I even barked at the cops. But they understood me and after examining that no damage to the house was evident they advised I phone them if they return.

Big fucking whoopee, a trespass charge if they return. Grandiose visions of blowing away 2 armed robbers echoed through my veins, as did grandpa’s burying a truckload of shot to piss Induns in my childhood backyard.

All I had was a ‘snogo sled that bump my house’ and 3 high school aged sub-original wanna-be sniggers breathing foul breath on my porch threatening me with limp dicks, unarmed.

Ghetto is as a ghetto does, ghet it?

Funny, native communities don’t all have to suck muke and chew buttnug, but they do. My Siberian Mrs. shrugs her shoulders and says they’re all like that, and I’ll always defer to my world’s authority on cursed and dying cultures that once were beautiful now corrupted with overwhelming absorptions external and poisonous.

The gal made the mistake of achieving such an elevated state of enlightenment and spiritual freedom she’s shed all trace of her lineage and achieved Freud’s mythical Super Man Ego superceding her culture and family ties that bind and gag the shit outa me, her too.

Ironic and sobering: if all natives and minorities were as sub-par, ignorant and hostile as my neighbors, I wouldn’t have any friends, best mates nor wife. Whenever I recite my mantra cocktail chime, “I’m married to my best friend” my Siberian Mrs. clarifies that in this town full of ugly hostile no-teefers, “I’m married to my only friend.”

If Maslow were alive today he’d see most of you beloved soldiers existing far away and far beyond your root cultures blessing me with non-typical and Herculean levels of hierarchically well deserved achievement.

Blessed with all you gents, I may possibly be the luckiest man in the world. And all I ever need to do is remind myself that not all minorities are turd squeezers and Shinola gaped penis holsters.

Alas, guilt is the last remaining sign I give a shit about my fellow humans. As with all things, this too shall pass. Some things I just can’t seem to drink off my mind.

I like living in penal colonies: provided I'm carrying the biggest stick, or wallet. Like Kung Fu walking the Earth performing good deeds, this Viking dog merely pisses and shits all over everybody I sniff and lick with disdain.

In Dutch Harbor I sat and cheered for knife fights between gooks and ice niggers and fishermen. In Yakutsk we all ran out front with drinks and cigarettes in hand to watch two Rusky motherfuckers battle hand to knifed hand painting the snow covered parking lot bright red. Neither dude returned to the bar for free beer; it would've only leaked out the front of their necks, backs and guts.

All battles are won before they even start. Fights like these never have a winner, only losers doing what they do best: losing. And bleeding to death in the snow.

Violence is cultural and retards enlightenment and altruism. Hence my addiction to rural dumpsites like Barrow, Kotzebue and Galena is holding me back in my path towards understanding the unenlightened. Shit holes custom made for guys like me where respect for citizenry and human rights ain't applicable to Alaskan sub-humans of any skin hue and composite eye structure.

We choose our own placement on the totem pole of life. My job is to kick yer asses up a notch or two. You guys really oughta knock me DOWN a few pegs, or completely off.

As a human being, tribal bully warfare, aboriginal murder and intimidation is way cool provided these atrocious behaviors stay isolated and reserved to regional folks that don't believe they deserve any better. As long as my rural neighbors continually believe they’re far too native to reach for the stars, we’ll witness the same dismal existence for another 10,000 shit sucking years.

One reason advanced education beyond simple subsistence isn't rewarded in rural Alaska is because the majority still believes Heaven is an abstract notion, not a possibility for my neighbors, I mean niggers fearing cleanliness more than Godliness.

As long as rural Alaskans believe they're supposed to rape and be raped we'll never see declining Fetal Alcohol Syndrome rates decline. I used to laugh at my childhood pals whenever they fucked the ugly sheep. 4 and 40 years later I cackle at my thick and dull village folk. Come on, who could rape an ugly native kid unless yer really drunk, let alone a perty one.

Retarded dullards thinking they’re wise to the world are an integral part of the permanent epistemology allowing guys like me to grift, steal and batter lesser brown folks without impunity. The definition of a fool is someone that is unaware that they don’t know shit. Alaska is truly the land of the free and the home of the brave for lads like us that lack compunction.

Besides, don’t it require that only Alaskans with 3-digit IQ’s qualify for human rights? I’ve butchered smarter goats and shot smarter dogs and none of them sued me for violating their constitutional rights. If I went native on their asses and porked ‘em, I’d feel anular litigation.

Over the weekend I reviewed the 772 emails I’ve posted to you coppers. No shit, I’ve composed pert near a thousand pages of what I call treacherous litany and whispered words of compassion concealed in abrasive language indigenous to my world far north of you uniformed killers.

I’ve also been a little hard on you lads and harsh in my criticisms of yer backgrounds and humanly questionable lineages. But yer worth it.

We’re all so human it makes me sick. We’re so blessed; yet choose to muck about like pigs in reservation shit.

Alaskans; all of us.

Just like all of these fine folks.


Article Last Updated: Friday, October 14, 2005 - 11:53:34 AM AKST

Fairbanks man charged with murder

According to the Associated Press, Alaska State Troopers say Jason Fisher of Fairbanks has been charged with first-degree murder more than a year after a man's head was found in Fisher's car trunk.

The 20-year-old Fisher is suspected of killing and dismembering acquaintance David Mason, a Fairbanks resident and former US Army serviceman. Court records say Mason's head was found in June 2004 in an abandoned vehicle registered to Fisher. Troopers had been chasing the vehicle for missing a front license plate. The car's occupants had fled.

Fisher was arrested Wednesday and charged Thursday after two witnesses said he shot and killed Mason before dismembering his body. His bail is set at one million dollars. Court records did not mention a possible motive for the slaying and few details about the day Mason was killed.


Oct 15, 8:01 PM EDT

Palmer man cuts off ankle monitor, escapes

ANCHORAGE, Alaska (AP) -- A Palmer man serving time for robbery, kidnapping and car theft failed to return from a five-hour pass and is on the loose.

Alaska State Troopers are searching for John Pearl Smith, 19.

Smith received a pass to attend the funeral of his father near Butte. Butte is south of Palmer and about 42 miles north of Anchorage.

He was supposed to return to custody by 9 p.m.

However, Smith cut off an ankle monitor, a device designed to keep track of a prisoner's whereabouts, and fled the area, troopers said.

Smith should be considered armed and dangerous, troopers said. They warned that the public should not try to capture him, but instead call troopers or other law enforcement.

Smith is 5-feet-10-inches tall. He has blond hair and weighs about 170 pounds.

He was serving time for his conviction in an incident on Sept. 13th, 2004.

Troopers said Smith used a gun to rob someone at a home, then stole the person's car. The car was recovered the next day.


Article Published: Saturday, October 15, 2005

Toddler dies in crash

By AMANDA BOHMAN, Staff Writer

A toddler died in a one-vehicle crash about 155 miles southeast of Fairbanks Thursday night.

Alaska State Troopers suspect the child's 23-year-old mother had been drinking before crashing the vehicle.

Brandon Duncan, 22 months, of Fairbanks died on impact after his mother's pickup truck smashed into a utility pole on the Alaska Highway and the roof collapsed on him, according to a trooper report. The boy was buckled in a car seat.

The mother, Milissa A. Delia of Fairbanks, was thrown from the vehicle. Another passenger, Rachael L. Hayton, 19, of Fairbanks was also hurt, the report stated.

A U.S. Army rescue helicopter airlifted Delia to Fairbanks Memorial Hospital where she remains in stable condition, trooper spokesman Greg Wilkinson said.

Hayton was airlifted to the Alaska Native Medical Center, where she is also in stable condition, hospital spokeswoman Leatha Merculieff said.

The accident happened at 11:20 p.m. at 1349 Mile Alaska Highway near Dot Lake, the trooper report stated.

Delia was apparently headed toward Fairbanks when she lost control and skidded off the north side of the roadway, Wilkinson said.

The pickup traveled approximately 500 feet before it struck the utility pole.

"It completely crushed in the roof of the truck in the back seat where the child was seat-belted," Wilkinson said.

Paramedics drew Delia's blood at the scene of the crash to determine if she had been drinking alcohol, Wilkinson said.

"Empty beer cans were found in the vehicle and the mother smelled of alcohol," he said.

Charges against Delia are pending, Wilkinson said.

Though icy roads have been prevalent in the Interior this week, it's unlikely road conditions contributed to the crash, Wilkinson said.

If the blood test shows Delia had alcohol in her system, her son's death would mark the sixth confirmed alcohol-involved traffic death of an area resident since May.


Convicted felon still on the run
Saturday, October 15, 2005 - by Natasha Rasheed

Anchorage, Alaska - A Palmer man convicted of robbery, kidnapping and car theft is still on the run as of Saturday night.

Alaska State Troopers say 19-year-old John Pearl Smith cut off his ankle monitor and left the Butte area on Friday night. He had been given a five hour pass to attend his father's funeral and was supposed to return to the jail at 9 p.m. He is considered armed and dangerous.

Anyone with information should contact Alaska State Troopers.



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