My beloved smokers, drinkers and chewers. Visit yer dentist this decade.

Yo dudes,

Guess what? I'm breaking my shackles of village poverty by going ghetto mod. I'm fucking going to the dentist. Again.

Yup. For the FOURTH time this month too. Fuck!

I'm getting the white man treatments: 40 year cleaning and 1,000 mile tune-up, plus paying serious dinero to have ALL my silver fillings replaced with pearly white bondo. My metal shite is now all beauty pageant and movie star gorgeous. I look simply marvelous.

All ye fuckoffs have decent dental insurance at the most and BIA scab mouth insurance at the least, so go to the dentist.

Men are so kewl. To a point: when we gotta sit and wait, read faggot fashion magazines and listen to the squealing air valves, passive turbines and intense tooth abrasion sound effects in a dentist office. Shit tightens my bottom and penis quicker'n a boot to the groin.

I ain't a pussy. At least MOST of the time.

Dentists, needles, shocks and drownings scare my shit pert near every time.

I'm totally kewl at the chiropractor, the massage therapist, any village native clinic, remote prison book-in and even sitting in court lying under oath. But, I puss out walking upon property shingled DDS. I can smell yer green shit all the way up here in Barrow, so even you graying gunslingers seem perty dern scared shitless just thinking about oral hygiene and dental health.

What makes matter so much worse?

We all smoke, drink and chew goddamn tobacco. And pot.

Data supports correllary notions linking rotten gob holes and nasty butt breath with heart failure, pancreatic atrophy and catastrophic immune deficiencies. In other words, heart attacks, diabetes and a cunt face only AIDS bitches could love.

I smelt all yer breaths. In the squadroom, central dispatch and over drinks weighing up coke. I could smell Mashburn's breath whilst cutting down a hanger. He likely smelt mine too: over a dead body. Our pie holes guarantee stereotypical humor that us niggers never die, we just smell that way.

After a cigarette and coffee our breath smells identical to the squadroom toilet after Captain Wallace grunts birth to 11 pound Selawik-mute loafs.

New idea, novel concept. *This year: y'all go to the dentist and get the complete $1,000 crust scrape and cranial stinkhole cleanout and polish. I did.

Let yer insurance cover the scabs, but drop some big dick dinero for all the rest. Co-pay and deductibles ain't fer niggers, just us Nazi natives and frost bit motherfuckers.

My mouth is now so sweet, women all over the reservation are sticking their tongues in my mouth.

Their lips too.


Karluk.