My Alias writes a bit of truth, “Obama can’t even pass his own questionnaire.” Ha! Ha! Boy howdy, now that is an ironic truth! Shoot, I could not pass his first question, “What is your name?” “allusi tek yukpa okpulochi taha attahpi” Should Homeland Security learn of my true name and English interpretation, they would be all over me and my life history like ugly on an ape. Should I manage to pass the name test, surely they would gasp upon learning how many times I have been arrested but not charged, for public nudity. Heck, if the Pope knew about me, he would cross himself and call for an exorcism ritual to be performed upon me which would not work leading the Pope to personally lead my sorry big butt to the Gates of Hell whereupon he would give my big butt a swift kick right on in there where I belong. However, Lucifer would give my big butt a swift kick right back out being fearful I would dispense with Him and take over Hades despite my life role of being the Devil’s Advocate. Woe is me, I am not welcomed in Heaven nor Hell, just like Islamic women. Returning to the sexual nature of topic, I will bet you my dental floss string bikini top Michelle Obama has never slipped on a bikini, unlike Sarah Palin who we know likes to wear a bikini while toting an assault rifle. Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

Reviewing my article at the SEC, I simply must masturbate my massive ego, As you know or should know, confidence in our financial markets is quickly approaching a historic low point. Financial scandals and crime are now at a historical high. Our American public has lost almost all faith in regulators to effectively protect investors against fraud and crime. I wrote those words of mine several years back, words published on a government website. I realized what is coming and what I saw coming is a harsh reality, today. Much of this is my inherent feminine risk aversion. Liz Peek is dead-on right about a need for more women to be involved in not only our stock markets but our government, as well. Men confront. Women negotiate. This is a well proven notion about our human behavior based upon gender differences. Male readers will probably be upset by this, women are much better at turning profits from investments and women are much more ethical about this. Men will confront, fight, force and cheat to turn profits. Women will negotiate, finesse and maneuver to turn profits while avoiding moral hazard. Liz Peek is right and her words should be given close attention. Ah, but this is a Man’s World. Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

Mary Lou sees Eliot Spitzer much as I do, “…he prosecuted financial wrongdoers.” Eliot Spitzer was a hero to small investors and American families. Here is a fascinating article about Spitzer published at The Huffington Post earlier this year, http://www.huffingtonpost.com/steven-g-brant/eliot-spitzer-george-bus_b_… Of great interest to me is The New York Times bit player part in the downfall of Spitzer. This is not a surprise knowing The New York Times routinely plays dirty politics and is well known for dispensing deceitful news reports. The New York Times is amongst the worst of Yellow Journalism publications. Readers will also discover how George Bush used the Office of the Comptroller of the Currency to enable and facilitate predatory lending. *** This is one of my numerous articles published at the Securities and Exchange Commission website back in 2005 year, an article which applauds Spitzer and pits Spitzer against the SEC, http://www.sec.gov/rules/petitions/4-500/kschilitubi061705.pdf Mary Lou and I are both women and the two of us see what our government and mainstream media would like to conceal. This lends much credibility to Liz Peek and her attitude about a need for more involvement by women into our market system, specifically our stock markets. Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

Kermie writes, “…I am a woman and not green at all….” Oh. Well, you do not have to be a man to score with Ms. Piggy, not during these progressive days. My presumption is you are not Marta the green slave girl from Orion. Darn, I have always wanted to meet Marta. Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

Mary Wells comments, “It is a good time to stay home and bless America for being as safe as it is.” Damn straight. Travel to the Mideast is begging for a violent death. Travel to Mexico is begging for being a victim of violent crime, or death. Travel to most of Africa, an almost sure bet of violence and death. Asia is no different. Travel to most anywhere around our world, is very dangerous. Any readers ever been locked up in the Tijuana jail? I have, for four days, at age sixteen. Horrors I witnessed, horrors I suffered, I could recount those but doubtful any readers would believe my telling. We suffer our share of crime and death here in America, but almost none know of the horrors which take place, daily, in other countries, horrors often sanctioned by and committed by governments and by their peoples. America is not completely safe, but is amongst the few countries of our world which are relatively safe. Go down to Mexico, inadvertently expose yourself to the Mexican legal system. Have yourself locked up in a Mexican jail. Should you survive, should you be able to bribe your way to freedom, you will never return to Mexico and you will think twice about visiting many other countries. Travel to another country to simply show “support” is nothing more than making a target of yourself and be sure someone will target you. You are much safer to get your kicks out on Route 66. Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

Ro writes, “What if one of us should end up dying after 10 years of ‘partnership’ and the children are with the partner who does not have legal custody….” There are ample means to address these types of issues. Upon adoption of a child, if both names of “partners” are on the paperwork, this is no longer an issue. Same is true for title to real property just as an estate can be willed to any person or persons. There are ample legal safeguards to address these issues. You only need to exercise those legal safeguards. Turning your logic around, people who divorce or lose a spouse through death, can face the same issue regarding child custody. A woman divorces her no-count husband, remarries, then dies. Who enjoys legal custody of her child or children? Rather clear, her former husband. These issues you iterate are no different than what straight couples face. Rather than spend your efforts demanding marriage rights, you would do better to exercise your legal rights, first, then take to fighting for your idealistic cause; have your own house in order before arranging houses of others. Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

Marjorie quips about life, “You do have a way of bringing comical adventures to life.” This country has come to feel the same when Congress is in session as when the baby gets hold of a hammer. — Will Rogers Amongst my favorite of humorists are Will Rogers and Samuel Clemens. Both men are icons of salt-of-the-earth humor and both men had their feet well planted in reality. This commoner humor touches the many with comical humility, touches with a bittersweet ring of truth. Whether roping wild horses or roping in winnings from a wild game of poker on a riverboat, both men never lost touch with their own humanity. This is quite the gift of ordinary hard working peoples. Never look a gift horse in the wrong end — Okpulot Taha Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

A staff writer for WoW writes, “It seems that everybody wants a piece of her.” Everyone except Bill. Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

Elaine writes, “…I have two ass cheeks you can kiss and I let you take your pick of which one.” I will take you up on your offer, both sides, multiple times! This could prove to be a lot of fun! Reminds me of a story, short version. Uncle Luther, Uncle Herschel and I are down in Texas, some cow fart town, probably West Texas, working the oil fields. Guess I am around ten, twelve, maybe early teen. Drought year, crops are not doing so well, we need extra money so I am sent along with my two uncles. I am to be their maid, errand girl and head chef. Other words, I run errands, fetch them beer and fix them dinner and supper, with dinner served out on the oil field. Dinner is what most of you know as lunch except our version is served in a dinner bucket, literally a small galvanized bucket. We are staying at this really cheesy hotel, specifically for oil field workers. Nice enough, I suppose, two beds for them, a pallet on the floor for me. Our room even has a hot plate and a small refrigerator. Good enough for living for a few months while my uncles earn money to take back home to our farm. Every Friday, a maid comes in with fresh towels, any laundry and gives our room a good cleaning and sweeping. I am sitting around listening to rock music on an AM station out of Dallas while the maid works. Part of her routine is moving furniture around while cleaning and sweeping. She uses a really interesting vacuum broom thing, like an upright vacuum cleaner but no motor and spinning brushes when pushed along; an automatic something broom. Right fancy wheeled broom. Friday night, uncles come back to our room really late and smelling of white lightning. They are totally plastered. Luther and Herschel are swapping lies about these hussies at a cowboy bar, a buxom red headed hussie to be specific. Quite the dancer based on their bragging and lip puckering. Luther fetches a beer from our fridge, he is talking up a storm, not paying attention, goes to sit down in his favorite chair, the one in front of our radio, but his chair is not there rather is about four feet back; the maid moved his chair. Down he goes right on his butt, slinging beer on himself. Boy howdy, Luther is mad, “Girl, you pulling tricks again? You moved my chair.” I turn away from listening to our radio, “No, sir, the maid moved the furniture around.” This makes him even more mad and he calls downstairs to the lobby to bitch. He is yelling at some poor boy on the other end who really does not care based on my uncle not getting anywhere except more red faced and more tight jawed. Finally, my uncle gives up and yells at the boy on the phone, “Well kiss my ass and I’m just the man who can do it!” I take to laughing so hard I have to leave our room before Luther can catch me then pinch my head clean off. Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

Merrell comments, “Perhaps people are annoyed with you for other reasons your ‘truth’ cannot allow you to see.” I am most certain yours is a truth. Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

Kermie croaks, “…why would you put chemicals on your pubic hair?” Well, Kermie, look at yourself, all green, including there and thing. I bet you would have better luck with Ms. Piggy if she did not see green when you drop your pants. Scoring with Ms. Piggy would be fine as frog’s hair, yes? Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

Kelly has a kind heart, “I’d never heard the term earned generosity.” This is when a person earns your generosity. You and your family are displaying generosity by creating work for this other family, and they are earning your generosity through working for you. Kelly, you did not have to provide work, you did this because you are kind and caring. This is generosity. This type of generosity is so much better than ordinary charity. All involved retain their pride and dignity. There is no begging, no handout, no soup line involved. A person needs help, people like you and me offer work. This is the right way to help others. Should one-third of American families each offer temporary work to another family in need, this would really help to carry our country through these bad times, with no help from our government. Doubtful we could provide enough work to prevent big ticket problems like foreclosure, but we can provide enough work to help families from going hungry or having their utilities shut off. Nice part of earned generosity is only those who are willing to work benefit from this. Those who expect a handout without having to work, tough luck. This sorts hard working people from lazy people. Would be nice if these efforts your family and our family display would become a grassroots effort. I would be delighted to shame the wealthy and shame our government by showing them we common people can take better care of our citizens than anyone. Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

I am a gopher, a gullible gopher. In a few minutes I will be headed off in my old ‘52 rust bucket Chevy pickup, headed for Home Depot to fill a list of needs given to me by my husband; two fancy exterior doors, 3.5 inch rounded corner hinges, wood thresholds along with 6 outlet covers, 2 double switch covers, one electric outlet and other do nothings. I am his gopher. I gopher this, I gopher that and I gopher his ornery tricks. I am his gullible gopher. A rather delightful gullible gopher story to share to add spice to your Thanksgiving day. My husband and I are working on a clogged toilet at one of our rental homes. We know the main sewer line is ok being recently cleaned and serviced, even video camera inspected. Never in my life did I imagine being able to look inside a sewer pipe, to give a house a colonoscopy. Heck, we still use rotary phones; this new technology is creepy. Tenants have a five year old boy. He is trouble, of course, as are all boys. This is why we decided to have a girl instead of a boy. Girls are so much better than boys. My husband tells me the boy probably flushed a ball or a toy down the toilet and we will have to manually dislodge whatever is stuck in the toilet innards. We have been through this before; last time this was a squirt gun, a boy’s squirt gun. He goes through the steps, turn off the water, bail water from the toilet, unbolt, lift off the four inch drain pipe. All looks clean and clear; something is stuck internally in the toilet. Small bathroom, we do not want to hoist this toilet outside to avoid splashing out water on our carpet. He tilts this toilet up forty-five degrees, “I’ll hold the toilet, Taha, you run a finger up in its bottom, maybe you can dislodge the ball or toy.” Ok, fine, I am a gullible git. I poke an index finger up the bottom of this toilet. Feels like cold mash potatoes. A bit of yelp leaps from mouth when I realize this is not cold mash potatoes. Drawing out my finger, sure enough, on the end of my finger there is a golfball size wad of “stuff” which looks much a mixture of peanut butter, diced carrots, green peas and lots of wet toilet paper, all generously splashed with creamed corn. I would have killed my husband, would have if not for causing him to drop our toilet which would make a mess. I act all mad but am not really. He holds up a finger to signal me, “Wait a minute before you smear me.” I do. He sets down the toilet then instantly ducks under my out reaching arm and heads for the backdoor. I give him a good chase around the backyard, screaming and hollering, all that. Neighbors know we are crazy. Never intended to catch him and we end up laughing. This was really stupid of me to stick my finger up the business end of a toilet. Husband holds a garden hose, my finger is rinsed off. No problem. Turns out the boy’s momma and daddy bought him a box of Fred Flintstone toilet paper. Comes in a box and dispenses like pull out Kleenex tissue paper, “When did you buy this for him?” I ask. “Yesterday.” His Flintstone toilet paper box is empty. No brainer. Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

Marjorie is kind, “Have a good holiday.” Thank you for your well wishes, Marjorie. Hard for many to understand, Marjorie, this is a work day for my husband and me. Seven-thirty, he is already over at a rental working, I will be joining him in a half-hour. We are making final touches on refurbishing a rental; tenants are moving in this Saturday. We will take an hour or so off early afternoon to join extended family for dinner, noting “dinner” is our version of an Anglo “lunch”. Our girl is over there helping to cook and will remain to help clean up while the boys snore on a couch or on a floor while a television blares a stupid football game. Our girl is our Thanksgiving emissary. After a light meal and swapping lies, we will be right back at work till later tonight. Work always takes precedence over pleasure within our family, including Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas. Usually, we have time to take a day off to celebrate those days like sane families do. However, we are not sane, we are workoholics. This is habitual. Born to poverty, raised on a rural farm, each day is workday. Has to be or you will not survive nor escape poverty. This is a habit of ours even today despite our being financially secure. Working today is not at all unusual. Millions of hard working Americans are at their jobs as I type; fire fighters, police officers, soldiers, waitresses, clerks, nurses and many others.This good work ethic, this willingness to work while others feast, this is a notion for which we should give our thanks. I will bet you a tasty turkey leg there is not a single politician working today. My wish for all readers is your Thanksgiving day be filled with warm family love, and your tummies not be so filled. Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

Mary Lou quotes Paul Krugman, “I haven’t heard anyone proposing particular individuals with clearer progressive credentials to hold that position.” A hard working single mom holding down two jobs would be an excellent choice for an economic advisor. Her advice would be simple and of good common sense; spend less, save more. This is, of course, is precisely the opposite of what Obama intends. Strikes me all those fancy talking city slicker economists who hang lots of equally fancy paper on their office walls, strikes me those are the very people who have our country in an economic mess. Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation