Come on down to Ewing's Slave Mart!

Top of the morning gents,

In previous postings, I’ve revealed my family’s historic involvement in the shipment of kidnapped children and women for prostitution, laudanum (opium) and alcohol from the Pacific Northwest up to the gold fields of the Klondike and Nome. I’ve also written about the Ewing business of purchasing Chinese laborers from Canada and freighting them to points of entry on the west coast for dead-end slave labor on the railroad. Another part of the Ewing business that predates these varying forms of human trafficking is my generational and historical involvement in the building of slavery in the big agriculture states of the South.

My chief detective researching this brutal nightmare odyssey was the one and only Commander Craig. Or in KPD parlance, dispatcher six: D-6. If you worked graveyard shift, you’ll remember his books and papers researching Eskimo ancestry whilst I was doing my homework studying at the Chukchi Academy of Lower Pygmy Brain Function. Both Commander and I wrapped up our studies at or near the date of our termination and departure from KPD and the Baldwin Peninsula. David accumulated a pile of documentation collated that he gave me to write about in the future. The research and homework D-6 and I accomplished started a million fucking years ago. Three decades in the future and after his death, I'm fulfilling this promise and yer reading the product.

Old men like us appreciate the saddening loss with the departure of our friends from work. Small towns, good friends and heartbreaking work become the burdens we all carry with us, and on long journeys, we must occasionally abandon our luggage. I wasn't happy about leaving, but Dave had decided to take the layoff and explained that Kotzebue would be better off without us. Both of us had many more miles to walk, Dave and Rachel headed to the Olympic Peninsula across the Puget Sound from Seattle, I had 44 trips to Europe and Russia collecting a hunnert broken hearts along the way. And a few broken bones.

Looking back, I now see that you gents knew we were heading for the door and I'm glad you all lent me and Dave a hand. I completed my first college degree with an Associates of Arts (general studies) and at the same time my lay-off was being arranged by City Manager Mike Scott (1 year comprehensive health insurance, 1 year tuition scholarship, relocation expenses and 5-figure severance pay). Simultaneously, my coworker in public safety and research colleague Mr. Craig resigned from KPD and also relinquished his position as the president of the local Church of Latter-Day Saints, better known as the Mormon Church.

The Mormon Church deserves credit for it's encyclopedic documentations of Alaska's ancestry and even called upon my bunnik for numerous consults on names, marriages, offspring and villages of origin. The Mormon Church also started the website Genealogy.com. In the early 90's before the Internet, genealogy research was done by requesting paper copies of century old documents, news clippings, vital statistics and court records. Their fee was 25 cents per page and postage was extra, but free for church members (and yer author on drugs). Mind you, before the Internet (and Gumby and Barney gay porn downloads), digging into the slave trade, capture and shipping of children prostitutes to Alaska and flooding the railroad camps with Chinese required boxes of paperwork and became our last field of study we did together.

Speaking of Gumby and Barney gay porno, Jeff Waller and Jeff Skinner and I were bullshitting about guns in the squad room, sharing gun articles and offering prices on guns we each had for sale. Jeff Skinner was picking through the pile of gun magazines and his faced turned bright red. He looked at me, then looked at Waller and opened up the magazine he was holding and showed us a fag-magazine displaying dildos, butt-grease jellies and men in weird poses. These dildos ranged in size from yer thumb, to your arm, to your leg. Pretty startling.

Jeff Skinner started shuffling through the firearms magazines and found more gay catalogs and gay men posing: pulling dicks and parting cheeks. On the mailing information label affixed to each magazine and catalog was Gumby's mailing address. I booked. Dispatch with stinky-tard Midol and rodent-rectum Rachel was better than poo-chew literature in the old jail squad room. Sniffing stereo cunt-farts is better than watching the 2 Jeffs barf and wretch. They didn't look good, puke was soon to be airborne.

Okay, 30+ years have passed and I can reveal one of my many dirty tricks up my sleeve. When Bun's brother Bobby packed up and left, he dumped all his boxed up freight on my house 420 porch and assumed me and bun were gonna tape, label and mail all his shit: at our expense. I said "fuck that." So I dumped out all of his possessions, sorted his most important personal effects like the banking, billing and native BS paperwork, clothing and hygiene products, and set aside a mountain of books, videos, living room pictures, cookware, kitchen glassware and utensils and linens: fucking heavy bulky shit.

I packed and mailed only a quarter of his stupid shit, had a rummage sale of all the rest. I might have made enough to cover the postage expenses I paid to Mumpsey at the Kotzebue Post Office.

The gay magazines and catalogs were put in Sara's closet. She was in Seattle, so this secret homo-ammo of atrocious published circulars could await my rather devious scheme. I'd collected a stack of gun mags Gumby had littered the squad room with and simply peeled or cut the address labels from the covers and carefully glued them on the covers of a few dozen gay catalogs and extremely icky homo-magazines. I then packed all these magazines and catalogs in my book bag, brought them to work at KPD and mixed them in the messy piles of gun magazines strewn throughout the Police Station upstairs.

If I could've located any mailing addresses in the Chief Jailer's name, I would've done the same. If you look closely, you all can see his concealed anti-heterosexual alter ego. Smell it too. Don't worry, paybacks are a bitch: even postmortem. I convinced Tom Gebhardt that I was stretching his mom's cervix and distending her uterus on her visits to my house. He still posts my name misspelled on his social media accounts angrily declaring I was fucking his mom while he waited out in the car. Years later, when I ran into John Erlich Jr. in Nome, he was accusing me of the same thing: that I was doing his mom between classes while his dad was in a Fairbanks jail. Of those two half-bozo dill-rods, one is wrong. One is correct.

The boxes of Bobby's hardcore gay VCR video tapes of graphic fucking, I brought to Chukchi Library during my evening Alaska Anthropology and History classes and mixed them in the library check-out section. Just to add another stick in Stacy Glaser's twat. Fuck, I'm funny.

Okay, playtime is over, settle down: full disclosure completed.

On quiet evenings during graveyard shifts in central dispatch at the Kotzebue Police Department, I'd brew high-dollar coffee chemical warfare on the hangovers of all the coppers on duty, I'd also make cocoa for church president David Craig. After I served the cops coffee, cigarettes, 222's (Canadian codeine tabs), they'd chuckle, giggle and drift off to type up complaints and reports, Dave and I would enjoy tea and crumpets (coffee, cocoa and cookies). Once we were sufficiently sated, he'd pull out his file folder and scribble notes from his copies of research into my family history.

He'd read about Senators Ewing of Mississippi, Missouri and Kansas, their battle against abolition and their vast wealth from the slave trade. but Dave never put me and that family together until I told him about my grandpa's stories of brokering slaves and hauling freight in the shipyards of Seattle. Spurred on by a solid connection with real American history and my dumb ass, Commander Craig requested and lugged evermore piles of heavy folders into dispatch containing copies of genealogical documents mailed from Mormon Central in Utah. We're talking whole forests of paper documents.

According to the Mormon archives, my family roots start with the immigration of the Ewing clan on my father’s side, from Scotland to the southern states of the US in the late 1600's with the earliest paper trail originating with the highly lucrative thriving slave markets in the pre-statehood regions of Kansas and Missouri. Complex business deals were structured to pay ship leasing and the purchase of slaves, transport, then auctioned to plantation owners like Ford or Chevy trucks and John Deere tractors.

Stock markets brokered the sale of shares of whole butt loads of niggers purchased from the indigenous black tribal slave brokers who demanded payments in cloth, sugar, tobacco and liquor instead gold, silver or paper currency. Continental African black slave brokers had little use for fancy metal and pretty paper money, but cloth, sugar, alcohol and tobacco were worth more than dollar bills. Just like Alaska. After the bargains were agreed upon, the slaves were loaded on fleets of leased ships and hauled across the Atlantic to the New World. Then they were auctioned off as house servants, human farm equipment, and sex slaves in the American States.

My ancestry was crucial to the structured financing, acquisition, shipping and wholesale marketing of slaves to America. Like advertising campaigns to sell cars, us Ewings used now-modern financial schemes to amortize the underlying asset such as zero down, zero interest and endless payment terms financing the sales of slaves, slave leasing, rentals and sale of brand-new niggers.

Imagine the hucksters like my family on TV selling slaves today. “We got a BOGO sale at the Ewing Nigger Emporium! Buy One Boon, Get One Coon Free!” Or discount sales on late model niggers, low mileage porch monkeys, clean used jigaboos, fixer-upper gimp niggers and darky-tard children with labels like “Clearance Nigra Chitlens, Affordable Negrito Midgets that are only a quarter native, discontinued cross-eyed tar babies and slow dependable brown welfare Sambos.” For a 10% discount, just tell 'em you heard it on KOTZ.

Come on down to Cal Worthington's Nigger Ranch! For the health conscious we got non-GMO high-stepping half-native hybrid niggers, 100% pure organically grown tiny-titty bone-in-the-nose slaves and for the green new deal homosexuals, we have the zero carbon wimpy chimpies that won't work a bit, just sit around and whine like half-breed fatty cunts, and for the paleo ass-suckers we offer gluten-free puny midget niggers that are faggot-boy butt-monkeys and really like to be whipped. For the vegan LBGT slave shopper we got autistic nappy headed micro-primates that when shoved face-first in meat-free cookie dough, they'll give you vegetable based gorilla cookies to feed yer native kids and dogs.

If yer 907 rural-trash wife is nearing menopause and "her pussy is tired and used up" (Alex Whiting 1992), all our keto-puny midget gorilla infants on the show-room floor are born with a pre-moistened dumper and are real good fer bustin' a nut and sport fucking. They're disposable too! After yer done with 'em, save on your dog food bill and just chuck 'em in yer KDMA dog lot. Okay, you can quit laughing so hard. My eyes are watering.

Like other cultures, continents and human history, slaves were integrated with livestock. In America, slaves and livestock were utilized in the sugar, liquor, hemp and cotton fiber and tobacco manufacturing industry. The Southern States of America, West Indies and Caribbean were the world's premier powerhouse producers of hemp, cotton, sugar cane and tobacco and for centuries created wealth unseen in the New World heretofore.

This predatory and monopolistic majority of the planet's production of sugar, textiles, liquor and tobacco were created by the perfect climate and soil and an unending supply of manpower. This agricultural monopoly was dominated and controlled by the new American super rich: the Antebellum South. The massive economic strength of the Southern States was so overwhelming that separation and isolation threatened the union of the 13 (and growing) states. The Civil War was a battle to end the creation of the new massively rich country of Confederate States. The new Confederate currency was also a financial threat to the unification and integration of currencies by the other colony/states.

The primary business plan and agricultural components were labor, capital and land. Meaning: slaves and livestock, investment capital and land seized from pesky Indians. Alas, all the great empires of the world had populations consisting of 90% slaves and 10% tyrants and the Ewings were indeed pedigree tyrant criminals. We stole everything fair and square.

No shit, the overwhelming majority of the world's manufacture of tobacco, sugar and liquor, and cotton and hemp fabric (marine sails and rope, textiles, clothing, rugs, carpets) were centered in the Confederate States. It is estimated that the Southern States produced 90% of the entire world's production of all these manufactured goods and this massive explosion of farming was the key to American colonization and the settlement of huge swaths of arable land colloquially called the land rush towards tobacco, cane, ranching and the White Gold Rush yielding cotton. We're talking Saudi levels of wealth in today's money dudes: trillionaires.

Throughout the history of mankind land was the unit of wealth. Land for hunting in prehistory like Indian buffalo hunting then later land used for farming in modern civilization facilitating the need for evermore complex social structures such as villages, towns and cities. Another outcome of social community structure was the advent of property rights enforcement and policing. American agricultural production on a massive scale was only retarded by animal and slave labor with the currently poor grades of metal and cheap simple farm implements made from flimsy, brittle, rusty low-grade ferrous metals. Before the discovery of high-grade steel all mankind's architecture (houses and buildings) were constructed with only thatch, wood, brick and stone.

Until colonization of the New World, there wasn't a single indigenous beast of burden available in America to use in farming and settlement in all of North America. All of the livestock needed for farming had to be imported from Europe, then bred for the specific needs of our continental soil, weather and crops. For centuries prior to the invention of better tools, horsepower and manpower were the only available equipment for human agrarian-based manufacturing.

All agrarian endeavors required GMO (genetically modified organisms) made possible with the importation and selective breeding of slaves, horses, cattle, ox and mules imported as invasive species from Europe and Africa and populating North America for this massive and expanding farm culture, industry and economy. Imagine North America without a single pig, horse, cow, goat, mule or nigger. Now you understand why Native Americans had developed and perfected their own slave trade and industry prior to contact with Europeans.

Simultaneous to the replacement of whale oil as fuel and light and the development of petroleum based energy, the demise of slave manpower and livestock horsepower was already in the cards and manual labor disappeared with the discovery of high-grade steel, coal/petroleum energy and electricity. This occurred with the experimental pouring of varying amounts of coal ash into molten iron, skimming the slag off the top and greatly increasing carbon, strength and quality of steel. Up until then the best metal available was simply cast iron called wrought iron, pig iron or pot metal only useful as skillets and a replacement of food containers throughout this last millennium: clay ceramic pots. The development of better grades of steel also saw the invention of the steam engine multiplying manpower and horsepower by tens, hundreds, thousands and eventually millions.

The American Industrial Age exploded with more than the invention of high-grade steel and development of petroleum distillates, it was the discovery of Lake Superior Hematite, the mother-lode and giant continent-wide deposit of iron ore throughout Canada, the Great Lakes and Northern States of America around the early 1800's. Hence, a competing industry of machine grade metals and more powerful fuels eventually rendered manual and animal labor obsolete. This resulting battle over vast dynastic wealth of Southern Agriculture and tidal wave cash flows in human trafficking would soon become the battle of wealth between the states. This money battle between metallic millionaires from the North and agricultural millionaires of the South precipitated the battle incorrectly called the Civil War.

Being full-fledged agricultural and slave magnates of the South, my family backed the Confederacy and we lost to the better equipped armies from the north. Far more coal, railways, armored ships, early medicines and telegraph communication brought the defeat of the South with a death toll that exceeded more than all of America's other wars combined. The Civil War had an estimated body count of 650,000 soldiers with even greater numbers of dead civilians and slaves.

Detailed in bogus pulp fiction and dime-store paperbacks, Frank and Jessie James became notorious desperados by leaving burned houses and farms, dead white folks and lynched slaves by the hundreds in their wakes. Fighting for the Confederacy as acquisition and commando operatives, the James Gang robbed banks, pilfered farms and raided livestock and slave holding pens. The money, food and livestock were intended for the war effort (in theory). The thousands of slaves that were lynched and left strung up hanging as decorations of stinky dripping meat were messages to the living Southerners of all colors not to sympathize with the North by providing comfort (food and lodging) for the enemy.

In the post-Civil War Amnesty hearings granting clemency to war criminals of the South, it was noted that none of the loot and treasure stolen by the James Gang made it to the Confederate war effort. The surviving half of the James Gang that Jessie James hadn’t murdered (including Frank James) testified that Jessie James horded his stolen treasure away from his crew, insisted in killing civilian white citizens and lynching hundreds of black folks for his amusement, he became a wanted man with nation-wide warrants out for his arrest. History has been celebrating a sick bitch psychopath, gambler, whore monger and nigger killer. Asshole even fucked over his own brother and crew and brought vilification upon his family.

All battles are won before they even start, and the war of the states was essentially a futile battle and anachronistic. It was a battle to preserve the millionaire plantation owner status quo, but 1850 high-tech discoveries and patents were soon to make animal and human labor obsolete.

Coal and petroleum fuels and foundries replaced the American slave trade, but at considerable cost. Lincoln's Scorched Earth policy exterminated everything leaving the metal millionaires from the North winning the cash-money war against the agricultural millionaires of the South forcing my family to flee to Washington State. The Klondike and Nome Gold Rushes were calling rich slavers west and another human traffic opportunity needed the Ewing slavery business model.

Ancestry.com has my family expediting wagon trains, cattle drives and harvesting slave profits into railroad investments as America blasted West. The yield of historical documents puts the Ewing family in the Dalles, Oregon establishing slave markets of gooks, slopes, chinks and dinks to build the railways, then expanding into Seattle to profit from the link between rail by land and shipping by sea. The Ewing's partnered with the Archer clan in a freight and shipping company called Archer Ewing Incorporated. The Archer Ewing tug and barge company exploited the need for transport of humans and cargo to the Klondike Gold Rush, then the Nome Gold Rush.

All "rushes" toward gold, land, timber and cotton were the massive migration of poor humans seeking riches. The rush was a massive wave of humans responding to bogus newspaper headlines describing get rich quick opportunities then the subsequent stampedes were barges and steamers packed full of freight such as equipment consisting of picks, shovels, dredges, pack animals and pack humans needed to haul so much gold digger paraphernalia to the mining claims. Along with mining equipment other important staples were needed such as food, liquor, pussy and drugs.

The food, liquor and pussy are a no-brainer but when Huey Lewis wanted a new drug, he wanted opium: heroin in the form of Laudanum. A mix of hard liquor, sugar and morphine, also known as Dope, a byproduct of the opium wars of the 1800's. Just like cocaine Coca-Cola, only better. Parallel to the massive Asian slave trade in the Dalles, Oregon came the tidal wave of heroin use among the miners and merchants. Wyatt Earp's first wife from Laudanum abuse as a daily analgesic. On a side-note, Asian slave importation numbers (and opium) eclipsed the nigger trade from Africa to the Southern States of the previous centuries. America’s largest opium importers were the Delano and Roosevelt mob families. Behind every family empire is a large-scale criminal operation.

The Klondike Gold Rush turned Seattle from a shitty little logging port community into the Gateway to Canada and Alaska. Seattle was the focal point for passenger and equipment freight arriving by rail and transferred to tug and barge destined to the Klondike Gold Rush. We all can easily see the need for labor and capital (men and tools) for gold dredging and mining, but ancillary freight in the form of food, clothing and shelter were a boon for get rich quick outfitters.

Purveyors of sex, drugs and alcohol earned a premium for the shipping concerns but in a perverse form of affirmative action and equal opportunity, women and children of all color were in high demand for the sex trades. Prostitution was completely legal in America and top dollar was paid for young women and Seattle's exclusive whorehouses served up young boy butt pussy and little girl biscuit.

After Soapy Smith, the mayor of Skagway was assassinated and the Klondike Gold Rush went from boom to bust, the Nome Gold Rush exploded making Nome the largest city in Alaska. Archer Ewing Incorporated had the largest fleet of steamers and freighters in the Pacific Northwest and were already in place with exclusive criminal monopoly licenses in hand. This put Archer Ewing in perfect position to expand service further North hauling miners and mining equipment to Nome.

Wyatt Earp was the mayor and crime boss of Nome, Alaska and for confiscatory taxes on all incoming freight and everything bought or sold he granted sole tug, barge and steamship concession to Archer Ewing Inc to deliver millions of tons of humans, tools and supplies to Nome. Wyatt Earp and the Dexter Clan were the top echelon mobsters of Nome, Alaska and brutally imposed hefty fees and controlled the flow of steam ships, tugs and barges from Seattle to Alaska. Being the only cartel mobsters in Nome, the orders for illicit goodies such as dope, ass, pussy and liquor were put at the front of the line.

The Gold Rushes of the Klondike and Nome yielded little gold and were in truth, a continuation of human trafficking and large-scale scams separating humans from their money. A slogan was attributed to Wyatt Earp who claimed the big money was in "mining the miners." Puffery and exaggeration is totally printable, but the bile published in the Seattle and Alaska newspapers was total butt-wipe. Journalism is a farce believable by rubes and intellectually vacant midgets. The newspapers of Alaska and Seattle were absolutely bogus with full page advertisements claiming millions in riches to any man that could pick up apple sized gold nuggets from the rivers and seashores. In retrospective these gold rushes were clever flim-flam scams perpetrated on the gullible. Fake news is as old as publishing.

The equipment, lodging and food supplies called "grub stakes" were offered at murderously high prices in the form of loan sharking with debts that were never paid. The prostitution, gambling, alcohol and drug sales were the big money earners with very little gold ever pulled out of the ground in the Klondike and Nome Gold Rushes.

Due to consumption (TB), venereal disease, poor diet, assaults and homicides, prostitutes never survived to see middle age and personnel turnover was astronomical. In both the Klondike and Nome Gold Rushes, the homicide rate was 5-10 deaths a week, and adding frostbite, hypothermia, dismemberment and disease, the death toll easily claimed 10 times those weekly rates of fatalities.

The demand for women and children for the whorehouses, hump-tents and fuck-shacks in both gold rushes stripped Seattle clean of little boy butt-snatch and little girl fish-trim leaving zero candidates in the entire Pacific Northwest to hijack northward. Every single boy and girl of any color disappeared from Seattle orphanages, foster care families and chicken hawk dating houses and forced Archer Ewing Inc. (my great grandparents) no choice but to loot every orphanage of children on the west coast. A fistful of dollars would induce thousands of families to look at their children and consider which ones they'd keep, and which ones got shanghaied to the gold fields.

Which of your children would you unload? We all got retarded children, siblings, nephews and nieces that would do just fine working up North. Family traditions are inescapable and some of our relatives are natural born meat puppets and penis holsters. If your dumber kids didn't do their chores, you could sell them to my great grandparents, and they'd get fucked a dozen times daily way up inside and way up north with Soapy Smith or Wyatt Earp earning 10% off each hump.

My old buddy David Craig of the Mormon Church passed away a couple years ago, but don't be thinking slavery is dead. There are more humans enslaved right now then in all of human history. Just take a guess at how many migrant workers cross the US/Mexico border and take jobs working as prostitutes, house servants, landscapers and untold millions employed in America's agricultural industry. Mexico's president Carlos Slim stated that "our people do the work even the blacks won't do."

To keep illegal migrant worker wages separate from our wages, the US Dept. of Labor only keeps track of "non-farm" payrolls. Yup, them Methicans aren't even included in federal labor statistics. If you allow for 200 years of inflation, niggers of the Confederacy made more money picking tobacco, sugar cane, hemp and cotton than wetbacks do picking your fruits and vegetables and butchering your meat today.

In Saudi Arabia, United Emirates and Dubai there are untold millions of imprisoned slave workers entrapped in a lifelong sentence called bonded labor indebtedness and every year approximately 2 million black children are kidnapped from the Sudan and the surrounding countries and shipped to the Middle East for house servitude, yard labor and sex trade.

I've yet to explain IBM and the Holocaust, but if your smell your cell phone you'll get whiff of chink pussy. Discussion of forced labor camps in China will be a topic for later lectures.

Since you're wondering, I kept David Craig stacked with loads of AT&T Walmart calling cards and mailed him dozens of odd bastard rifles to share with his buds, barts, ilyas and oomahs. He'd phone when he needed bun to send down tunnik punniktuk, whale muk and seal oil for Rachel.

Word is, Kotzebue held a pretty darn nice funeral assembly for Rachel Craig. Bun requested I personally see to her burial in Tikigaq soil, up in Pt. Hope, next to her father, aunts and uncles. The last name Tikik means Pt. Hope citizen, whaling crew member and sealer. Alas, that'll be a trip she'll undertake on her own. Her ancestral burial grounds are dirt this Finn fears to tread. If only the good die young, and my century plus old grandfather is any example, I'll be here decades after I ship Bunnik up North boxed and bejeweled, and after all you guys book out of here.

A while back I phoned Commander Craig to chat and catch up. He told me he'd had a stroke, asked me my name and if we worked together. He didn't know who I was. I often wonder what happened to all those reparable and cleanable guns I sent him.

A year of two later all his memories of KPD came back to him. So did his memories of all of us.

On the day he died.


Karl.