Booze draws heavy drinkers from across the countryside, plus a humorous ditty detailing a killer recipe.

Top of the morning gents,

I want y'all to try a rad recipe I got from the
infamous 6Killer, the serial assassin from Kiana ye
best not get cross-threaded with. Anyone who's ever
pissed off our blessed Squirrel River Indun Killer
were found deceased yet blowing blood bubbles out a
sinus cavity the size of yer average Selawik infant's
anus, or Gumby's bypassed turdcutter: whichever gapes
widest.

I still own the gun that made the nickname "Pussy
Faced Davidovics" famous: twice. It's a dandy 357
magnum with custom engraving that reads 'eat my shit
and die' in Germanic Inupuke.

The human face goes through some rather horrific
distortions when ye shove a gun barrel up yer fucking
nose or in yer pie hole and pull the trigger. Suicide
by cop-okay sort of...

Back on topic: a killer recipe I retrieved from one of
my truest and bluest friends.

A few centuries ago I snagged a couple bottles of
Cutty Sark brand Scotch, holstered twin Colts 6-by-6,
then headed a few blocks yonder for some serious
thinking, drinking and heavy testicle (masculine
brains) based dialogue.

Good Alaskan chat, good Saxon drink, good Alaskan
foods too. Me and 6Killer lobbed big ideas back and
forth, plus gulped big shots of good Scotch while
munching on Eskimo candy: smoked salmon. Lots.

Here's how I discovered what it feels like to be a
Selawik bitch ho or a Kivilina diaper rapist. After
chugging down all the Scotch and piles of smoked
salmon with a one-dozen cigarette back, I staggered
home through drifting snow and lay in bed agonizing in
a cloud of shit-burps.

I figured out a mean trick. Now here's the cruelest
trick. Feed you guests lots of smokey salmon and
smokey Scotch, then kick 'em out pronto. They'll be
burping turpentine, paint thinner and gasoline flavors
so bad they'll turn green.

No shit, the grossest belches and sickest burps make
yer guests feel like an Eskimo with a rusty ring
around their mouths. Gas huffing fool is what I felt
like, don't try this at home.

Then I heaved up.

Pleasant eh? Bite my dick while I eat shit and die
like a drunken Sative Nailor after drinking paint
thinner and huffing gas.

*What follows pertains to creating a liquor
distribution station similar to Barrow's: but in
Kotzebue and Bethel. I'm sick of seeing immiktuqs with
sukpiq mukluks and I doubt I'm alone.

Here's how it works up here. ANYBODY with a DWI in the
last 7 years or a domestic assault in the last 10
years won't pass the criminal background check and
cannot purchase liquor. Even bootleggers and suitcase
smugglers get 86'd for 2 years-plus probation.

Think about it. Your town's worst wife beaters and
sloppy drunks can no longer pay retail prices for
booze, just bootleg prices. 1000% screw up tax stings,
but works "ral gud bart" (A. Monroe).

Eliminating the Anglo wrath of alcohol takes both
brains and guts. Barrow Eskimos are tougher Eskimos,
smarter and richer for it too.

Sianarra my brothers,

Kiaqpuke.

---

Wet towns draw heavy drinkers from across the
countryside

RACHEL D'ORO-Associated Press Writer

NOME, Alaska — Villagers from far-flung Eskimo
communities where alcohol is banned regularly pour
into this old Gold Rush town and its many bars and
liquor stores — not just to drink, but to get
plastered.

Day and night, drunks can be seen staggering along
Front Street, slumped against buildings, and passed
out near the tourist shops or along the seawall on the
Bering Sea. Police cart off the worst of them to dry
out at the hospital, where the emergency room often
reeks of alcohol with as many as eight drunks at a
time vying for beds.

Some never make it out of Nome alive. They drink
themselves to death or pass out in the below-zero
cold, where they can count themselves lucky if they
merely lose some fingers or a limb to frostbite. Many
simply vanish, presumably swallowed by the icy waters
of Norton Sound. Over the past two decades, dozens
have died of exposure or drowned.

"The level of alcoholism is intense," said Greg Smith,
who runs the Norton Sound Health Corp.'s outpatient
substance abuse program. "The most dangerous pattern
of drinking is binge drinking and it is firmly
entrenched here. It's been built into the drinking
culture."

The U.S. has more than 500 dry communities, and it is
not unusual for residents to flock to another town to
do their drinking. But some of the worst binge
drinking is associated with a few regional hubs like
Nome that draw people from Native and American Indian
communities across vast expanses of countryside.

One big reason is this: Many Indian reservations and
Eskimo villages are in extremely remote areas and ban
not only the sale of alcohol, but possession, too. In
other parts of the country, many dry communities allow
alcohol possession, and a bar is usually just a short
drive away.

These regional drinking hubs include:

— Whiteclay, Neb. It has a population of 14, yet about
4 millions cans of beer are sold each year in four
stores there, mostly to American Indians. It is just
yards away from South Dakota's Pine Ridge Indian
Reservation, where alcoholism is rampant despite a ban
on the sale and possession of alcohol.

— Gallup, N.M. It has long been branded Drunk Town,
USA. It is surrounded by Navajo, Hopi and Zuni Pueblo
lands where alcohol is prohibited. The town of 20,000
now bans Sunday alcohol sales and a county tax on
liquor has been imposed.

— Flagstaff, Ariz. It is 72 miles from Tuba City on
the Navajo Reservation, and the closest place to get a
legal drink. Wanda MacDonald, director of the Navajo
outpatient treatment center in Tuba City, said on the
stretch of highway between the town of 8,000 and
Flagstaff, she once counted 149 white crosses marking
the sites of fatal car accidents — most of them
because of drinking.

Experts and activists say the heavy drinking involves
only a fraction of the nation's Native population but
perpetuates one of the oldest and ugliest stereotypes.

"The most common perception among the general
population is the firewater myth, that Indians
physically can't hold alcohol. It's just not true,"
said Fred Beauvais, a researcher at Colorado State
University at Fort Collins who has studied the issue
for three decades. "A lot of genetic research has been
done on that and there's no evidence for a specific
genetic factor for Native populations."

Instead, experts link alcohol abuse among Natives to
poverty, hopelessness, loss of culture, and perhaps
habits learned generations ago from hard-drinking
settlers, trappers, traders and miners.

American Indians and Alaska Natives have a 550 percent
higher rate of alcohol-related deaths than nonnative
Americans, a disparity blamed in part on inadequate
health care.

Nome, population 4,000, is best known as the finish
line of the 1,100-mile Iditarod sled dog race and is
situated in a region the size of Louisiana, with 15
mostly dry Inupiat and Yupik villages, some as much as
200 miles away.

It has six bars, four liquor stores and two private
clubs that sell booze, and annual alcohol sales total
$5.5 million, which is equal to more than half of the
city's annual budget.

The drinking crowd swells dramatically during the
Iditarod and when Alaska's oil-royalty checks — last
year's windfall was about $1,100 — are distributed to
nearly every man, woman and child in the state each
fall. But even on the slowest nights, it's not unusual
to encounter someone who has passed out.

Newman Savetilik comes to Nome to quench his thirst
for whiskey. Savetilik, 50, lives in the village of
Shaktoolik, 130 miles from Nome, and feeds himself by
fishing and hunting moose.

"When I come to Nome I got alcohol problems," he said
with eyes half-shut. "I'm not like that in
Shaktoolik."

Nome's boozing history was born with the town after
gold was discovered in 1898, bringing thousands of
hard-drinking fortune hunters. The gunslinger Wyatt
Earp operated the Dexter, the most ornate of 50
saloons lining Front Street in the Gold Rush heyday,
when the town's population swelled to 20,000.

Nowadays, Nome police officers estimate they spend a
third of their time tending to intoxicated people —
some repeatedly — and making arrests for drunken
driving and such booze-fueled crimes as domestic
violence and assault.

Alcohol is involved in 90 percent of the 1,000 or so
criminal cases around the region that are prosecuted
each year, said District Attorney John Earthman.

Three-day protective holds are the primary tool
employed by police to deal with people so
incapacitated they could fall victim to a crime.
Police logged 326 holds in the first seven months this
year and 632 in all of 2006, according to Police Chief
Paul Burke, a former state trooper who began his new
job a few months ago and has made it his mission to
clean up Front Street.

He has asked his officers to conduct more bar checks
and watch out for lawbreakers, such as businesses
selling to already intoxicated people or to minors.
But Front Street merchants generally do a good job of
policing their workers for fear of losing their liquor
licenses, he said. Overly intoxicated people get
kicked out, but still manage to keep drinking.

"In the early '80s, when I first got here, the bars
were open until 5 a.m.," City Manager Randy Romenesko
said. "Obviously there are lots of things that can be
done, but the question is does anyone want to do them.
Bottom line, it's a community decision."

Some mental health experts say there will be no real
progress until Nome gets an inpatient rehab center —
one that incorporates Native sweat lodges, talking
circles and songs and dances. Nome's only residential
rehab center closed eight years ago, its managers
citing dwindling state and federal support. The
nearest facility is almost 200 miles away in Kotzebue.

Meanwhile, the regional Native corporation has
launched an education program for high school students
to discourage drinking and restore appreciation of
their culture.

"I want them to be inspired and empowered and feel
their self-worth, that they can accomplish something,"
said program coordinator Kirbi Fullwood.

A bar at the Nome Nugget Inn stopped serving alcohol
two years ago, specializing instead in Vietnamese drip
coffee, when Thuy Nguyen's family bought it.

"I think Nome can do without one more bar," she said.
"We'd rather get people jacked up on caffeine."

-Associated Press Writers Nate Jenkins in Lincoln,
Neb., Felicia Fonseca in Albuquerque, N.M., and Arthur
H. Rotstein in Tucson, Ariz., contributed to this
report.

On the Net: http://www.nomealaska.org