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155. Grappling Grabs trade secrets and Royal Rumbles

Posted on: November 11th, 2012 by Colonel Crabtree-Smythe No Comments

Hello good people I return with renewed vigor and passion and i feel that life has taken a turn for the worse. Now I recently received a letter from Abe Lincolns third cousin once removed Tank Smith Jones, who in essence has implied certain historical anomalies-the fact of matter is I am not responsible for turning the great Sitting Bull into a cross dressing pervert as I am responsible for the famous grappling grab-However on refection, I did spend a couple of nights in the Dakota territory with the great Indian Chiefdom-but we were smoking the pipe of piece-going to other realms-flights of fancy- in spirit form as it were-letting the great eagle take over our consciousness-taking us back to a time and place where we were connected-a time when he Sitting Ball was an Indian princess and I was her white lover. Of course this great love could never be consummated due to the fact that we were in quantum state, and so it was on the second day we had to marry in symbolic terms of course.

Now the great man Sitting Bull could do nothing about the overall compulsion to dress up like Little White Dove or Little Dorrit even -and thats when our story went completely off the charts.

The great chief was caught with his trousers down as it were as he was slipping off his skimpy briefs and sliding into a pair of flesh colored stays. Oh yes we were caught in ceremony by by “Yellow Hair” himself. The deviant Custer-the man did spread a nasty rumor-he said that we-that is Sitting Bull and I were a couple of feathered queers.

This was the beginning of the ill fated battle of the Little Big Horn and when all is said and done it was I who had the horn. When I say ill fated I mean it was the last great victory of the red man over the white eyes. The truth is that no matter how I tried to explain the spiritual nature of the events I was not believed-and the fact of the matter was that if Custer had not called the great Sitting Bull a “cross dressing fairy” lots of lives could have been saved. So all I can say to you Tank Smith is up yours an get you facts straight. Writing me letters like that utterly disrespectful rude and tenuous almost vociferous in emotion.

Echoes Of The Lost Tribes

Echoes of the lost tribes Spanish ships and all
with religious dogmas bad intent spawning blood and gore.
For all that was and ever shall be broken lost and unborn,
that white eye came across the plain to build on sacred ground.

Legends of great families the guardians of the earth
in the shadow of the preacher-man,who was lost?
And who was found?
The eagle flies in tainted skies and only the moon is free,
true vision clamped the future stamped by olde soldier blue.

Sleeping with the enemy watch the decaying hosts
for nothing really matters when your spirits has been broke,
living masks of memory fired in the earth
tell of loss of birthright the red mans own record.

The war against the red-man
is the war against the earth,
the war against the red-man
is the war against yourself.

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