I speak fluent Inupiaq when I'm breathing heavy.

Top of the morning gents,

I've been seeing news articles about missing and murdered indigenous women. The usual content concerns reserve girls, red bush, native lippy and squaws. Meaning reservation native women that were last seen at truck stops, bars, thumbing rides along highways and traveling alone outside the reserve. More striking was the contrast with violence upon women outside their reservations, versus inside. In Alaska this criminal statistic in reversed, the massive risks of violence inflicted up native women occur at home, in village or at camp and not outside rural Alaska. In the cities and urban wastelands we normally see wasted natives begging change or sleeping rough on sidewalks or storefronts. Just nobody rapes past out nuggers.

I've broached this topic of violence against native women with a diverse mix of Alaskan citizens and the responses were vague, discriminatory and mostly wrong. The most common explanation was "they were drunk" and somehow deserved to get dead. I attached some news clippings below and I was stunned to see that the unusually high violence, highest in the nation against Alaskan natives occurred mostly in a native village you coppers patrolled for fucking decades. A village called Kotzebue.

To quote Henri Poincare from over 150 years ago, "We know how cruel the truth often is, and we wonder whether delusion is not more consoling."

My experiences in Kotzebue were mostly of fucked up assholes wanting to get past Dopey the doberman and steal booze or take a swipe me or Brian, resuling indubitably with horrible outcomes to them. Minor injuries to myself of any consequence was only lasting hospital bills from dog bites wrestling Harley's pit bull Dino and chiropractic visits from sore backs slopping fish totes and tossing freight with Nush at Ryan Air. On our trips to every village for inventory audit work, we stayed clear of locals interested in the possibility we brought liquor and green bud. We did, but consumed it in private. Me and micro-dot were highly trained in the ways of espionage. Well, countering efforts to snoop us.

In town, my home time experiences were of drinking native women hot-to-trot invading Higman's house on second avenue. House #321-2nd avenue to be exact. We lived there for years until I moved in with bun and Sara and Brian left town, likely saving his life from lethal near-death alcoholism. And a slew of STD's. During our parties at Brian's we discussed typical concerns like ANCSA, ICWA and AST and KPD. Mostly chatting about sex, drugs and lousy music on KOTZ 720 AM. Yup, we also chatted all sorts of sex and the many aspects in the arena of breeding, consensual, non-consensual, lethal and near-death fucking.

I was interested in hearing from my native female guests. I've no need nor interest in discussing sexual matters with dumb ass dudes, that'd be duplicative. And gross. My conversations across the gender divide were semi-coded or toned down similar to sex with prophylactic protections and birth control: faux breeding, fake intercourse veiled in counterfeit proper English. Slang, jargon and mixed Inupiaq terms kept us from being too direct so we could broach the topic of rape and murder obtusely. We also kept discussing VD in terms veiled and medical nouns shrouded.

Fuck counterfeit proper English and polite speech. You coppers have proven tough, not faggots, so I'll try to be forthright and brutal. First point. We all know that nobody likes to fuck a tarp, so condoms have their shortcomings. Bad pun, sorry, but nonetheless, natural warm (and hopefully moist) tissue on our own warming cockles brings a tear to our one-eyed trouser mouse. Or specifically, in your cases, uncontrollable salivation outa yer rabid trouser sewer rats, feral rodents restrained within titanium banana hammocks and crotch rocket swamp monsters straining their leashes. Lacking morality, kindness and compassion, a stiff dick also has no conscience.

I'm also thinking that a hard swollen ovary may undermine common sense and drive native women to do stupid things in order to get fucked. Meaning DNA driven sexuality yields results we've partaken and pursued but after putting on our uniform and gunning up, we professionally investigated, documented and prosecuted. In ancient aboriginal communities, even the selfish gene and it's drive to reproduce seems oblivious to tasteless sex and brutal rape.

Now on the topic of condoms and the small matter of not seeing ANY for sale at AC, Eckhardt's, Valu-House nor Hanson's Dry Goods. Our adult years started at the dawn of the AIDS/HIV era with scary public safety commercials up the fucking ass all over TV and radio. But not a peep was spoken in Kotzebue. Condoms and native pussy seem to be mutually exclusive. Come on fuckers, with numerous examples of pretty white children that look like us, when was the last time you stretched a tarp over the head of yer trouser snake?

I suppose, if we could purchase a rubber with all kinds of knobs and long tendrils that'd tickle a girl's hoo-haw, I'd be tempted to stretch one over my Johnson like a sleeping bag with a cute Santa hat. Not just some silly dress-up rubber, I'm talking a full-on clown costume I'd wear during sex that would feel like off-road tires and snow chains for both myself and the broad I was fucking and sucking.

I'm thinking all sorts of dragon's head adornments and soft rubberized bristles so that it would be best if I don this scary toy in the dark so's not to terrify my impending victim of sexual assault and historic satisfaction. Let's be real. I'd happily wear a condom that provides more than just safe sex, cuz a little clean play rape makes fer serious screamers. With an appearance similar to a toilet plunger and a lion's mane and dish scrubber, this prophylactic device will happily turn a bitch inside out. No runs, no drips, no errors. In addition, no babies, no infections. That there is an Trojan ad slogan and I'm reading your minds and hearing, "Fuckin' A dude. Giddy-up!"

I've heard numerous comments from pretty girls of any age that large junk on a dude is visually erotic, but forcing too much, too soon, way up in a cooter was a buzz-kill and seriously wrecked the mood, moment and prospects for another date. Being a tall moron, these comments were invaluable to me. My assumption and response was to invoke the use of the second best seat in the house, my nose. Well, that and my mouth and tongue. I've gotten a million neck and throat cramps sucking the brains outa red snappers and war-torn hoochie-koochies, bringing color to ripening tomatoes with a suction that made my ears pop.

When asked by inquiring dames, what my experience was with different females I've loved, I was flummoxed, stymied, gobsmacked and dumbfounded because telling the truth to a woman is stupid, disastrous and damning. Since I won't be chatting with my crispy haggard bitch-folk neighbors here at the senior center and not pursuing leg, gash or snackage long-dead at your respective rest homes, cabins, shacks and trailers, I can now be bluntly honest. You see, men lie like fucking dogs when faced with a prospect of fucking a dame with our faces and slobbering between fine ass yams. One look at yer neighbors, in-laws and spouses, it's without question, sex is definitely off the table.

In my humble opinion, I don't have any preference in the ages of shapely, curvy and really pretty women whatsoever. I've sacked girls much younger and older than myself with ages ranging from 17 all the way to 71. My girlfriends during my twenties were challenging, rewarding and also delivered me trips to the STD clinics. I've enjoyed the company of naked women in their 30's and 40's and those eager beavers nearly busted my hips and pert near twisted my neck off amid seizures and shrieks. These spinal hazards similarly apply to my older concubines and to quote Ben Franklin, "women of a certain age are most appreciative." As I was saying, ain't nothing better than lapping them ripe tomatoes.

So to differentiate broads, gals and dames, Nurse Diesel and the Herp Queens, truck stop lizards, bar flies and skanky boozers with simple demographic markers, I start with girls that never had children, those that have and girls that have achieved menopause and those with pending reservations.

Young girls that are sober tend to be smart, cautious and reluctant to engage in high risk behaviors. Namely leaping, taking air and aiming their octopus suction cup directiy towards the front of a bearded Finn. To derail this apprehension I kept champagne and wine coolers on hand, proving that the world's number one date-rape drug is fermented grapes or grains. I firmly believe we owe most of our sex lives to the hard work of microorganisms.

Yeast being on top of the list. Or more accurately, yeast poop. Alcohol is the waste product when yeast chow down sugar and excrete liquor. The reason wine and champagnes max out at 12-13% alcohol content is because their environment becomes too shitty and poopy to survive, hence that 12-13% alcohol content is the point of extinction fer yeast. For anything stronger like brandies, bourbons or whiskeys, we require distillation to raise the content higher, separating water and dregs from pure ethanol. Fine booze is tasty and also lethal to yeast, so humorously in context of yer careers, alcohol kicks ass by exterminating living yeast and thus yeast becomes the first of many alcohol-related deaths. Not a very pleasant thought. Here, take a shot of clear distilled amoeba dumps.

Come on fuckers. Remember your college years, even if you were working instead, a couple cups of liquor or wine in a girl made them smell better and even taste better. I actually recall fond memories of gorgeous girls that became slightly sweet smelling after a generous amount of alcohol. Their skin smells wonderful, their breath reflects the drink they chose and of course, when aroused, their most beautiful parts beneath harness and garter became ever so delicious, tasty and snack-worthy. Okay, get a grip you labia lip slurpers and wipe yer face, yer drooling. Also, you'd better wear eye-protection, yer trouser monster might spit ye in the eye.

Alcohol is the wonder drug that works wonders. Imagine an ad campaign for an alcoholic beverage, whether beer, wine or hard liquor touting the purity, clarity and flavor of premium yeast crap. The same yeast shit and microscopic turd loafs makes us stagger, sprout boners tackling traditionally disadvantaged vertical smiles, overlook poor hygiene and blindly suck and fuck really foul snatch. Had we been sober, we wouldn't even look at skanky broads like that without eye protection, nose plugs and a level 3 bio-hazard outfit. Broads so nasty, we wouldn't fuck 'em with Westlake's dick.

Alcohol dulls our vision, hearing and sense of smell and illustrates why bars are dimly lit cheating you coppers of how truly ugly some of the broads you boys have climbed on, hungry fer whorehouse cologne reeking gash on the bottom of girls that insisted on giving you a number, instead of trying to remember your name. The last time I went astray out back of a bar in Kotzebue, my dumpster-side sex partner called me 1003. Looking back, I’ve since dubbed her Penicillin Penny. Of course after doing the nasty, numerous cops have been forced to put a torch to their bed sheets and pour bleach on their dicks. In worst case scenarios, the other ways round.

I believe we have all been blinded by beer goggles and awoken next to dames that required us to stealthily flee the scene of a criminally nasty act of ass busting to avoid waking the handicapped Down Syndrome girl with prosthetic legs and a gash in the wrong place. My solution is to disable her wheelchair then escape by fleeing out windows or outhouses floors to avoid another nightmare involving breakfast pussy snacks in bed with the Bride of Frankenstein, Chinese Roadkill, cross-eyed African centerfold or Mrs. Mud-Rat Inukun looking like patients in the ICU suffering gangrene infections. To exemplify such a delightful scenario, I was approached by a native gal that said, "Hey Karl! Look!" She lifted her shirt and stripped naked, breasts and all. What I saw was a nightmare. David Ann Russell was showing me her stab wounds all over her upper body and they looked disturbing like poorly healed labia lips. Her joke was she now had 11 pussies. "Want one?"

Morning after sex with a farting cripple, meaning round two with a daylight hangover, humping a cross-eyed deformed special needs gimp can prove puke-worthy and burn an image in our brains we'll remember forever and curse our memories till the day we suck dirt. More than one of us has staggered home with Helen Barger on our arm, thus proving God invented whiskey so that ugly women get laid. It's also the reason we'd never leave our broken down cars, wheelers and sno-gos in front of her house. Folks might think shit. 200 years ago, Manilaq fucked Annie Cyr and was banished to Nuvruk for being so nasty. Poor fucker was accused of using an ugly native woman, who was unwashed and barely conscious as a cum dumpster and "try be white."

"History is indeed little more than a chronicle of the crimes, follies and misfortunes of mankind." A writer in the late 1700's named Gibbon forgot to include "woman-kind."

Come on fuckers, we've not changed much in the last 100,000 years and fucked and sucked Homo Erectus boon poon. Even modern fucking is nearly identical to rotten utch, poopy butt cave man porn. I suppose looking back 1 million years might be kinda gross, but in context of sucking on Neanderthal and Cro-Magnon sugar frosted vermin seasoned crotch lippy, we're still sawing away on grossly similar ovarian reception foyers, slippery catchers' mitts and Fallopian tube sperm vacuum snorkels.

To find examples of aboriginal inbreeding, look no further back than 2 million years to Homo Habilus whom fought and fucked Australopithecus adding twists to our DNA. Of course it's our own hard dicks and overheated gashes that tangled our genetic lines and forever confused our evolutionary history. Sex during this prehistoric era was likely long before alcohol Viagra (whiskey dicked) and wine and roses. Showing up on a cave date with a dead animal was sufficient aphrodisiac and twat lube. Fuck it.

If we examine our rampant sex lives 20 million years ago, we'd gettin' wood and climbing all over tarsiers in estrus or lemurs in heat. Put that image in yer photo album, swapping out yer great-grandparents fer small fury animals. It only gets worse. 40 million years ago, we were sprouting wood underground in clans of shrews. I smell rodent 'tang. What's funny, is that our maternal mitochondrial DNA hasn't changed in all these years. Male DNA is all over the place. Big eyes, big muscles, big brains or faster legs. No matter, woman harvested men like a crop and kept our planet packed full of babies diverse like so many sorts of rug munchers, paycheck suckers and beer budget drains.

Fermented fruit and grain beverages are only 4,000 years old and our indulgence in alcohol is a proven preamble to getting our groove on and alleviating the nervousness of our first sexual engagement with a strange new lover. Even if she's a Big Foot upriver village cave bitch and got more hair than us. And numerous rectums all over her body. Wrecked-ums being euphemisms for the infected cultural tattoos all over her shit and ear, lip and eyebrow piercings, all leaking our sperm. Welcome to Hell nigger, you just fucked and sucked a Nunapichak bitch. Ye best follow me to the local STD clinic. I'm there dude. On numerous occasions.

Getting wasted at Kotzebue bars and railing on First Nations 'tang is typical wherever cultures clash. We tend to laugh at my stupid claims that cute aboriginal girls are attracted to taller white men with bigger dicks but those trite cliches are little more than a racist self-aggrandizement. Ain't none of you coppers have slept with more than a few white chicks and a hunnert native girls, but if the lights were dimmed and Thomas Edison aborted at birth and electric lights never invented, we'd have babies with every race of women and never know the difference. Well, maybe.

Imagine recent history, like 1792 when America undertook it's first census. The count was a little under 4 million Americans with roughly 700,000 slaves. Now turn off the lights and see what happens. We'd be fucking our own farm equipment that had a asset class tax value in the billions. So we imported slaves, sold them at auctions, and fucked 'em. At least until the sun rises and our daylight hangovers cleared. And we're startled to discover the bitch is a bearded African spear chucker midget with 2 sphincters ani: front and back, leaving evidence on our dicks that one of those orifices might've had fangs. And badly needed a shit, shower and a shave.

Only a mere century ago, tallow, whale, seal and walrus oil was so expensive, we dimmed lantern lights and snuffed candles quickly to save money. Of course, if we arranged a late night rendezvous fer some strange 'tang, the alien poon we snacked on might've inevitably resulted in sex with girls we didn't expect. Even black girls or Asian girls wouldn't be noticeably unique to any of the naked booty mustaches you coppers wrestled and raped during frenzied moments of ass-railing and blind fury intercourse in the pitch dark.

To tell ye the truth, if yer in the embrace of a hairy, naked, lunatic vixen prehistoric creature bitch and she's singing real pretty in yer ear, wrapped tight around your torso and also wrapped tight around your wanger, well shit, it don't get any better'n that. Who cares what race she is and what color her hide becomes at sunrise. We can overlook all the facial hair covering her legs, back and jelly roll and what planet or continent she came from, as long as she came. And was long gone, wiping her slug tracks back home before a patrol car picked us up fer graveyard shift at KPD.

When I was working at the Welfare Desk in Kotzebue, the poorly educated female applicants like Jaynor Clark and Merci Ann Henry were required to supply the father's names to each and every child they had sucking on the government tit, meaning food stamps and how many children were pissing and shitting under their respective roofs, meaning HUD Housing fer niggers we'd referred to Inupiaq Housing. HUD apartments at the A-1, A-2, A-3 and 16 Unit low IQ housing buildings fer talented darkies, gifted midgets and genius niffs.

The reason the state required the names of the sperm donors is to bankrupt the responsible stubby cookoos who fathered these hybrid mud-tards and bend them over on the front desk of CSED (Child Support Enforcement Division). In most cases them dullard fertile Myrtles had no idea who the father was. You boys know the truth and that most of these aboriginal humpsters were wasted at the time of their super hyperactive vaginal gaping and raping. Tell me I'm wrong, but unlawful entry rapes make fer happier Kivgiks, appuattis, potlaches and whaling feasts.

In some cases, the prego-bitches declined to supply the father's names of some of their children because the paternal sperm donors were teachers, coaches, borough mayors or presidents of native corporations and the hot to trot Eski-hoes feared reprisals. Now tell me, why does Craig McConnell and John Schaeffer Jr. come to mind? Like father, like son. Thinking about nasty old ugly June Nelson getting mounted, boned and creamed pregnant still gags my shit. My lasting eternal image of her is seeing her corpse after she overdosed eating a thousand jars of opiates and puked liquor postmortem, requiring us to transfer her from her soggy dying sofa, to a gurney and lug her 10-ton fat drunk liquefying ass to the ambulance, then onward to the dump. We unceremoniously placed her burping fuck hole on top of the stacks of dead dogs, and then torched the whole motherfucker.

If the NANA Regional Corporation and Northwest Arctic Borough School District had to pay the child support arrears (back pay and accrued interest) for all those unclaimed bastard children Craig McConnell and John Schaeffer Jr. spooged, you chimplet first monkey nationals wouldn't see a single dollar in native dividends and tuition to attend public school on the Kikikchimprunt Peninsula would be so exorbitant, it'd cast a shadow far above the tuition my parents paid for Sara's private schooling in Seattle.

They ain't the only motherfuckers that raped wholesale wasted drunken native pussy. There's a shitload of numerous other impaired butt fuckers that collectively create a legion of skanky dudes we personally know and were ground zero fer herpes, hepatitis, AIDS, monkey butt-pox and Chlamydia. They'll all go to their graves, or already have, with mucho scabs and scars on their tiny cookoos and evidence of viral deterioration on their brains. Don't laugh, but genital herpes is incurable. A skanky dude can take Acyclovir to reduce the bleeding symptoms but the latent adult onset evidence of Alaskan mixed-mud blisters or aboriginal herpetic citizenship mirrors dementia and Alzheimer's. We just tell NANA shareholders that Schaeffer & Son only got acne. On their tiny dicks.

I know a lot of cops were also sick-ass rapists too. Just recall Dean Westlake or Augie Nelson: father and son rapists. If we could rebuild and restore the chronic alcoholic brain damage in the female native population, besides Craig McConnell, John Schaeffer Jr. and Senior and Junior Augies and Westlake, they'd see romantic visions of fat old men like Jack Nanini, Roger Nordlum, Ron Brown, Lynn Johnson, Jake Rogers, Brian Higman, Kenny Euben, Ray Meyers, Tony Richardson, Hank Shimshatt, Bob Douglass, Mike Spezak and Jim Rood climbing offa them, retching sloppy seconds and spitting lumpy pube clusters on the carpets, then wiping their dicks off on the pillows and drapes. Don't forget, in rural Alaska, ye can't rape the willing or kill the dead. If they're passed out, you double the number on yer retarded pussy Bingo score card cuz another dude's sperm is a natural lubricant and flavor enhancer. The reason I omitted Lincoln Sato was cuz he wasn't heterosexual, he was no-sexual. He lacked any genitalia of any significance or consequence whatsoever.

Here's a weird family circle. David Craig stated Brian, his adopted son was a half brother of Ben Brantley Jr. I asked who the dad was and he told me that Ben and Brian's dad was a cop in Kotzebue years ago and was quite promiscuous with the sporting ladies of the evening: Ben Brantley Sr. He also told me that Nils Gregg and Brian were also half brothers due to having the same mother, Rachel Gregg. David Craig's church is responsible for tracing family histories and the Mormon Church owns Ancestry.com, the nation's largest lineage resource. Mr. Craig also confided with me that Ben Brantley Sr. had an estimated 8 illegitimate children across the NANA Region. Fucking A dudes, that boys got highly infectious sperm and knocked up a shit load of niffs, niggers and natives.

What David Craig meant by sporting women was an old school euphemism for bar flies, buttered biscuits or better put, wasted ladies of the night barfing about back of Alaska bars, getting wasted and pregnant simultaneously. I'd phrase it, wasted women that liked to fuck around and then adopted their children to their aunt, who was also named Rachel Gregg, later Rachel Craig, David's wife of over 50 years. No matter, Nils died of cancer, Ben died of cancer and Brian was an FAS pain in the ass that died fucked up and frozen out on Kobuk Lake.

More aptly Brian, like Nils and Ben Jr. inherited defective genes and those boys also died of a disease called generational alcoholism, all 3 showing greater or lesser degrees of fetal alcohol damage. Alcoholics come from alcoholics and all 3 are a product of Alaska's historically famous bottle disorder, drinking disease and legendary fetal alcohol spectral disorder. Thus proving the Tagruk drinking age is actually negative 9 months. To illustrate the cultural violence, unwanted pregnancies and retarded children, I pulled an article from The New York Times and enclosed further down.

To dilute our culpability in the white on native sexual assaults, we could add other players of diverse skin hue, brain sizes and dick microscopy. An example that comes to mind is Fernando Robles. He poured liquor directly down the throats and up asses and into vaginas of brown maidens of single digit age, naive to the inevitable outcomes and how generational STD's are transmitted. Fernando was an inmate on numerous occasions, finally fleeing Alaska and moving back to his own kind. That being Methicans, beaners, spicy taco snatch monsters and wetbacks with assholes possessing dentition.

Frank Lane was charged and convicted of sexual assault when he poured liquor and mystery drugs down the pie hole of a white girl. While climbing aboard and gittin' a nut, she awoke mid-jizz, rolled him off, called KPD and ran directly to the hospital. Frank Lane now has a shredded anus the size of Kobuk Lake and wets himself whenever he sees pictures of naked men. Or KPD uniforms.

Some shit runs in families. Like Mark Bird's homo-boy, his homosexuality was inherited. As listed above, you'll see Kenny Euben enjoying group sex in an airport hangar, alongside other members of his Hillbilly Herpy Clan. His son was similar in DNA in that he was convicted repeatedly of furnishing alcohol to minors, knocking them up, then denying any such crimes. After his tenure in Anvil Mountain Corrections, he now prefers humping older men and sprouts a boner after smelling a spilled honey bucket. He's also another example how farts make a gay man horny.

I still rib Higbitch for killing a broad. My joke was that since he was so cute, short and tiny, camp girls trading cooze fer booze, preferred he skull fuck 'em. It's no secret that Willie Hailstone oft repeated the Micro-Dot sexual slogan, "It's not the fuck you face, it's the face you fuck." Or better, "the smaller the tit, the more the monkey." Poor Brian now stands accused of skull porking a native girl from camp, right in the eye. If you don't believe me, you all might recall a gal that died after traumatic rape, dying of an eye infection. Yup, Carol Nelson Wilson passed away after Higbitch humped some ocular pussy, right below her pubic eye brow. If I ever hear a midget Irish drunkard yell, "Hey Carol! Here's spit in yer eye," I'll die laughing, then puke. Then punch Brian again.

On a sad note, you all remember Peter Vance Wilson, a man accused of kidnapping, sexually abusing and killing 10-year-old Ashley Johnson-Barr in Kotzebue in 2018. He pleaded guilty to first degree murder and first degree sexual abuse of a minor. Ashley Johnson-Barr disappeared Sept. 6, 2018, prompting a citywide, multi-agency search. After eight days, her body was discovered on the tundra more than 2 miles from a playground where she was last seen. Investigators found extensive evidence of sexual assault, based on the medical examiner’s Sept. 15 autopsy, with cause of death labeled as asphyxia due to obstruction of her airway and constriction of her neck. I'm still wondering why none of the KPD jailers helped Peter Wilson perform auto-erotic asphyxiation and kicked his honey bucket out from under his scrawny creepy ass mid-shit with a turd only half out his ass.

Let's not forget recent history. You all may remember a Kotzebue man was sentenced to 20 years in prison followed by five years of supervised release for charges relating to the repeated sexual abuse of a minor. I'll cut and paste directly from the ADN.

"According to court documents, Wally Carter, 62, was indicted by a federal grand jury in January 2021 and pleaded guilty in July to one count of human trafficking. Carter became the subject of a federal investigation in December 2020 when the FBI received a tip alleging a minor had been sexually abused by Carter approximately 15 times between 2015 and 2017. The first instance of sexual abuse occurred when the victim was only 10 years old. As part of his plea, Carter admitted to sexually abusing the minor victim multiple times, giving her money after each instance and often giving her alcohol and marijuana before or after the sexual abuse. The sexual abuse happened in Carter’s home, his vehicle and on one occasion, Carter took her by boat to a cabin, where the victim tried to escape from him at least five times."

“The defendant’s actions are unconscionable and robbed his victim of her trust and innocence at a young age,” said Acting U.S. Attorney Bryan Wilson of the District of Alaska. “This sentence sends a strong message that crimes against children in rural Alaska will not be tolerated and those who perpetrate such crimes will be held accountable.”

“Treating children as sexual commodities is appalling. The FBI will vigorously investigate these matters to protect the most vulnerable among us," said Special Agent in Charge Antony Jung of the FBI Anchorage Field Office. “This case exemplifies the ongoing efforts of the FBI and our law enforcement partners to combat human trafficking in both urban and rural Alaska, while using a victim-centered approach to vindicate the survivors impacted by these crimes.”

The Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) and the Anchorage Police Department (APD) Task Force Officers investigated this case collectively as part of the FBI’s Child Exploitation and Human Trafficking Task Force, with assistance from the Alaska State Troopers (AST) and Kotzebue Police Department (KPD). Assistant U.S. Attorney Dan Doty prosecuted the case."

These are merely a subset of a massive population of bug-infested clap-infected sperm donors that ejaculated inside the cooters of thousands of comatose native broads. And native children. Native dames that would freak if they knew who gave them their dimpy slow hybrid-tard children, incurable nasty vaginal discharge puddles and painful leaking bumps on their uchuk. To further your nausea, some of the old broads that boned the above list of slimy white dudes were actually super horny sex monsters and thoroughly enjoyed these gang-bangs. No shit, Bob Douglas bragged of boning an old native gal whose initials are Lance Kramer's mom, tag teaming with Jake Rogers. Both alternating ass and pussy. I'm thinking of these ass-raping men and can imagine their tiny blistered erect cookoos, dead, enjoying postmortem liquefaction, flooding, soaking and melting in their stinking coffins. Possessing tiny junk, death be not proud.

Rob Brown and Kenny Euben did a tag team gang-bang on old floppy hooter Ramona Nichols, and bragged about it. If you remember, Ramona Nichols was the victim a cat fight brutal assault over Jack Nanini. His other ho was Sandy Russell who didn't like Jack Nanini slobbering on bigger floppier boobs and scrawging way up inside another old broad's bearded clam. So Sandy Russell took a ball peen hammer to Ramona Nichols' skull, bashed her about and left Ramona with bruises and lumps on her cranium, brow and cheek. Mrs. Russell is a nut-case and a ho-fo-sho leaving slug tracks all over the cookoos of far too many diseased men. Jack ain't any cleaner nor healthier. Like the gals I've detailed, Mr. Nanini is a leaking slut too, cuz he was boning Sandy Russell, Ramona Nichols AND Lillian Lewis. What a stud. I'm gonna barf if I think of that sickening trio of wet-farting grandmas climbing on Mr. Nanini. Or any of you coppers.

Ron Brown oft recommended I bone "the moaner" Ramona Nichols, but I took a pass. I fled Seattle to escape rashes, sores and that constant drip of gonorrhea. I've not the heart to tell Margie that her husband took part in alcoholic Mazola parties down at Ram Aviation. Imagine Mike Spezak, Tony Richardson, Ray Meyers and Tommy Sharp all playing Ring Toss and Leap Frog in a big stinking flesh pile. Wasted, high on Capone cocaine and not a condom within miles. Serious ick factor there dudes. Since everybody in this tale is either dead, in jail or dying from crotch rot, the gal that waylaid all these men sired Ralph and Rex Lewis. Figure it out. Then help me toss these ass-raping old white dudes into Kramer/Unnuk Lake, I mean Davis Lake, tethered to a refrigerator with a chain tied tight around their face like Amos Moses.

Shit niggers, that's not the only R&R honeymoon we're aware of. I'm thinking more than half of the troopers, VPSO's and KPD grunts awoke with massive hangovers, sick as a dog, wearing a wedding ring, with dog treats (grass and barf) in their mouths and stinging from VD. If I add all my old party dudes and fish slimers at Whitney Foods and Ryan Air, well shit, I'd have most of the registered voters, licensed fishermen, convicted sex offenders, public safety grunts and pedo-felons as a population base for our statistical analysis and simmering gene pool of impaired retards. Why bother, Father's Day in Alaska is real fucking confusing. Or a complete mystery. Who's yer daddy?

Okay, you've heaved and chuked at my strident caricatures of doubtfully consensual interracial intercourse that make up a million Pondu scum and Bottom of the Whale romances in the Kotzebue mud, bugs and drugs. To put my claims into terms you numb-nut senior citizen cops can understand. Convert the movie Scrooge into all the girls ye boned over the years. Ye got ghosts of pussy past, ghosts of pussy present and ghosts of pussy future. With our marriages to really old chicks, the last 2 categories oughta be a non-existent number.

But if we clear our tobacco and alcohol damaged brains, scrub the crusty drug residue and cocaine plaque, sober up and look back at ghosts of pussy past, besides ourselves, half of Alaska should hang their head in shame. I picked half, cuz women are held harmless in this game of male dominated backwards view of buying drinks fer chicks that really didn't need a drink and are on the verge of burping barf, yet we smiled at our swollen dicks and kept on plowing onward and inwards. Drink bitch. We gonna git some.

Aa stated above, I kyped a paragraph from the New York Times. "Alaska’s crime rate isn’t uniform across the state. Like most states, cities usually have the worst crime rates, while small towns are typically safer. However, Alaska is abnormal in that some small villages have the worst crime rates. The most dangerous place in Alaska is a small town by the name of Kotzebue. This small town has a population of 3,273, yet it is one of the most dangerous places to be in Alaska. Isolated far from other cities and located on a small fishing wharf, this area is prone to high violent crime and high property crime. Despite community efforts to limit or restrict the sale of liquor, Kotzebue is rife with generations of chronic alcoholism and Kotzebue residents have a 1 in 30 chance of becoming a victim of violent crime. To put that number in perspective, on average, most states have a 1 in 10,000 chance of residents becoming victims of violent crimes. The property crime in Kotzebue is also extremely high, with a rate of 1 in 23. Essentially, living in Kotzebue is extremely dangerous."

Now let's get back to my four categories of females I seduced with my over-sized lock-pick genetically designed fer knickers, britches and diapers. We got pre-baby, after baby and pre/post menopause. I couldn't tell you coppers my favorites because being a hopeless romantic, I fell in love way too fast to remember that my foray was to find rape relief and disastrous DSB release (deadly sperm build-up). I'm not the only one either.

A funny thing about male human beings is that we are attracted to the heavenly outward topside heavy mammalian displays, flared hips and heart-breaking pretty faces. Within a tragically short period, we've fallen in love with another human being, forgotten our rapist's lust and are now smitten, overly fond and trapped. I've had great sex and been tossed on my head during one-night stands and quickly discovered I've been tricked into going on shopping sprees for silk under garments, new Sorrel boots and parkas, irresistible gold nugget engagement rings and houses all over Arctic Appalachia.

What the fuck just happened? This ain't fair. I think I was just tricked. My dick was doing all the talking and something outsmarted my evil intentions of being the sexiest man on planet Earth. Now I'm running around pussy whipped and longing for another wrestling match trying to get even with a female human being that I suspect, outsmarted me.

I'm well over 6 feet tall, over 200 pounds and I got totally beaten into submission by a beautiful girl that now has numerous properties in her name. I thought I was being sneaky and now it looks as if I'm a just a pawn in a stupid game, winning stupid prizes. Am I merely an extension of a cat's paw and tricked by a pair of ovaries 10 times the size of a man's gonads?

Human women are far more wily and deceitful and in possession of a very clever snatch, attached directly to a pair of much bigger ovarian brains. Us big men got gonads that are puny and microscopic compared to the big dogs on the block. One ovary wouldn't even fit in our busted craniums. Comparing our ball cheese machines to a girl's ovaries, we're dragging a burlap sack filled with small potatoes.

Didn't I ever tell ye coppers that men may likely have 3 brains, but we're still intellectually challenged dwarf-nads? Yup, I just reached down between my brains and found gonad #3. Oops, that might be a cyst or tumor or some shit.

When my third gonad becomes the size of a woman's ovary, I'll take a picture and email it to you coppers. Then I'll book to the Denaina Vagina Health Center and have a complete junk-ectomy. A procedure that will lower my IQ, more than it is already. Remember my line of work. Can't get any more retarded than that.

The best cure for sex is old age. The best cure for old age is death. At least we'll all think clearer in a dark box, sniffing dirt. Goddamned women are so distracting.

Ye ever get the notion that God is actually a woman and laughs at our retarded sexual follies? We are so cool and smooth, scheming and deceiving ourselves that we're gonna get some fine 'tang, but if Her goal is propagation of the species, well hell, we're just stupid numb-nut motherfuckers. We ain't fooling anybody.

And being sneaky bastards, we thought nobody knew our evil intentions.

Karl.