Margo asks, “I am wondering if there is a word in your native language for ‘meshuga.’” Our girlfriend, Marjorie, loves language lessons. I will delightfully work at giving her multiple literary orgasms. Yes, Margo, my peoples have an expression for “Meshuga” and this expression is hiding right under your long nose. My Choctaw birth name, “Okpulot Taha”, when interpreted to the Queen’s good English, means, “Crazy.” Margo flips through her lexicon, “…you really need to look up “soi disant.’” “soi-disant” This expression is hyphenated, luv; a pseudo-phrase. I do wish you would avoid ending your sentences with a quoted word. This makes writing so much harder. I have change your quote marks to apostrophes then end with a quote mark which simply looks silly; looks like a walking housefly left behind specks. Additionally, I am perplexed by having to decide betwixt American punctuation or British punctuation; comma and period inside quotes or outside quotes. I like my writings to look physically pretty. On our expression “soi-disant” and context. This is difference between your being a prescriptionist and my being a descriptionist. A prescriptionist person believes a dictionary is the ultimate authority on grammar and style. A descriptionist person believes lively context always trumps grammar rules. Prescriptionists come across, “See Jane run. See Dick chase Jane. See Jane knocked up.” Descriptionists come across, “Look at Jane run like crazy from that Dick who is chasing after her like a Blue Tick hound chasing a bitch in heat! If Dick catches her, certainly he will….” Readers are invited to use your imagination to conclude my descriptionist Jane and Dick example sentences. soi-disant She is a soi-disant Choctaw. She is so psychotically soi-disant. Margo says she is a soi-disant. Now she is being soi-disant. Soi-disant, yes, this is her nature. Her life’s sushi salad is sprinkled with soi-disant. ..and a usage which will annoy you to no end, She loves soi-disanting. Here is an utterly boring article which discusses “prescriptionist” and “descriptionist”. British punctuation there. A boring article but you, the reader, will be surprised by the topic to which the author applies those two words: http://www.against-the-grain.com/d/FullTextArticle?ARTICLEID=3820 Marjorie, have I you hot and bothered? I hope so! Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

Sibelle exclaims, “I wasn’t expecting such a ‘book’!” I know. Most people are shocked to learn an American Indian would write a pornographic story. Everyone has this notion we are a highly moralistic peoples who border on being mystical. Nah. We are just as horny as you and just as tricky; our casinos are actually upscale brothels. This is how we make so damn much money. Marjorie sees the good, “You are just too good.” My husband likes this more when I am bad, really bad, like sharing my girlfriends with him. You must keep your man happy or you will end up going through husbands like dental floss. Tanja chills out, “You are cool Okpulot.” Oh no! I am not cool. I am a hot headed red skinned squaw with an attitude. Obama is cool. Obama can walk on water. Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

I researched this news video carefully. What is not mentioned in this news video is this turkey in the background, on his way to your supper table, is a Democrat. No real surprise there; we all know Democrats are turkeys. Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

Sibelle, looking for an autographed copy, asks, “When is the book coming out?” As soon as I can convince the Feds to lift the ban on my latest novel. Bit of a Nabokov “Lolita” thing; a bit too realistic. Currently, I am in discussions with Laura Bush with a hope she can push some buttons for me with her being a fairly well known librarian. Some risk there because she is also an elementary level school teacher. My latest writing is of an adult nature based on real life experiences. Should the Feds continue this ban on my book, I can always release in Europe and the Mideast, well, the Mideast might be questionable but certainly socialist Europe would favorably rate my lastest sordid tall tales of tail. I do not know. Maybe I will wait until Obama installs full blown socialism here in America. Obama is bound to render far right-wing conservative Christians into pot smoking nudists who love naughty stories. Bound to happen, yes, most certainly. I can provide a synopsis preview for you, Sibelle. My latest saucy adventure story is based upon our experiences with our lifelong French lesbian girlfriends. Certainly this will have Margo and Dr. Laura wide eyed and slack jawed; much soi-disant disbelief. Back in the Eighties, back in our impoverished days, we met two French girls, lesbians, and soon a healthy relationship came about. Started out an economic thing; we helped each other out, shared food, living quarters and all that to make life a bit more affordable. We figured a lesbian couple and a married couple with a child, we figured this would inherently keep an appropriate distance between us. What a surprise! We became a loving family of five, loving in the most intimate of ways, very intimate. Quite the adventures we are having and have enjoyed. Three mothers for our girl, two lovers and a wife for my husband and two lesbian lovers and a husband for me. Rather blissful, really. All are enjoying the best of a walk on the wildside. Been together over twenty years now and still panting and sweating. However, our girlfriends have a home of their own, these days. Anyhow, my lastest rag is based upon twenty years of enjoying and loving a very unique family, a family full of love and frolic. I will make sure, Sibelle, you and our other girlfriends here receive signed copies. Lady Gator, I will sign a copy for her but you give her book to her! Those teeth… Margo will have to hit B. Dalton and buy her own copy. No copy for Dr. Laura; she will throw the book at me. Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

Margo meows, “Do you think it possible for us to vote the soi-disant Choctaw off the island?” Oh, come now, Margo, you well know I own the island and well know I am an indigenous savage. No bone through my nose but I am infamous for running around naked; loin clothes are so passé. I am sure you also know I am testing your metal. So far, Margo, I rate you in there with malleable copper. This is a flavor of color which well accessorizes with your current hair color. Yes, black and copper, this well highlights your pale but beautiful skin. Margo, you do rag quite fiercely on Sarah and Republicans in general, kinda hint Republicans are ignorant gits then close with, “what’s a little rudeness?” Seems I have earned a rise out of you, not with rudeness rather with an expressed firm but fair attitude delivered with well written words. You have your hackles up, yes? However, your desire to kick my big butt off this island is a display of personal weakness on your part; you are challenged to deal with a person who comes across as assertive and intelligent. You have selected the easiest option; wish ‘em out into the corn field. You paying attention, Kryssi? There is another obscure reference for you. Firm but fair. This requires giving thought to all sides of an issue. Republicans, nah, this is now a hashed apart boring issue. Nonetheless, I will exemplify my firm but fair attitude, and raise your hackles again. You have four marriages in your pocketbook. There is controversy surrounding you, a questioning of your views on paternity. One side of this is questioning if you are the right person to give advice on relationships. Another side is you have experienced a variety of relationships which does qualify you to provide advice on relationships. I am firm but fair, I can argue against your expertise and argue in favor of your expertise, and I would make a point to keep you on my island for spirited debate; you have value, you are a classic soi-disant and poking you with a sharp stick certainly gets you to squealing. I like this. I am a avid fan of Dr. Laura. Gotta love a strong and assertive woman who does not hesitate to tell you to take a flying leap. I will read some of your articles, maybe I will become a fan of yours. However, this island is my turf. Your turn, Margo, my delightful Cheshire Cat. What is a grin without a cat? Now get out there and do the right thing. Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

Kryssi is confused, “I’m still stuck on ‘just deserves’” I figured someone would jump on this one. This is an old but obscure expression. I am certain you are thinking “just desserts.” “Deserve’s got nothin’ to do with it.” — William Munny, “Unforgiven” Pleases me you took note of this, Kryssi. Clearly you are well literate. You are to be commended for catching such an oddity which slips right on by most readers. My field of specialty is creative writing. As a writer I thrive on creating new and unique expressions. However, “just deserves” dates way back in time and is associated with colloquial micro-regional dialects. More simple, country bumpkin language, my language. For context, “just deserves” is an expression for “appropriate retribution.” Unique expressions, obscure expressions, Kryssi, lend to your being a more interesting person and lends to easier capturing audience attention. I caught your attention, yes? On Eastwood’s movie, “Unforgiven”, this is up there on my top ten list of lifetime favorite movies. Eastwood is a master, a true master. Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

Kryssi flirts, “Hey now, leave us skinny people alone!” You look the girl few would leave alone. * Sarah Wink * Lady Gator, you stop your grinning, those long sharp teeth of yours make me quite nervous, especially when you lick your lips. Marjorie hears a head clunk, “Walked right into that one, didn’t she?” Face first, I would say. Starry is ok, I think she is beginning to cotton to me. Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

Diana comments, “…Grandmother grabbing the chickens, wringing their necks….” Reminds me of another story after which, I am off to help my husband work on a rental; stock markets suck today. Roosters, especially Bantam roosters, are just like human men. As you know, roosters are cocky and prone to fisticuffs, again, just like human men. After robbing eggs from hens in our hen house, some roosters are smart enough to figure the appearance of a child, all of three or four feet tall, ends with a ruckus in the hen house and a lot hens mad as all git out. Roosters become protective and will attack, especially if trained to fight. I am walking out to our hen house to fetch eggs and a scratching hen sounds an alarm. Instantly, here comes running this Banty rooster towards me. I am mortified to a point of being frozen in place. This rooster springs into the air then crashes right into my face, whereupon he immediately begins trying to claw my eyes out while repeatedly pecking my forehead like a jack hammer. During this, he is also flogging my head, flapping his wings against my ears while screeching bloody murder. Damn rooster knocks me down to the hen-shit-mucklety-brown ground then proceeds to work me over but good. I mean this rooster is eating my face alive; a George Foreman of roosters. Hearing my screams and all the ruckus, a Choctaw elder comes running over, and the rooster takes off running being outnumbered. Later, Grandfather instructs me to find, catch this rooster, wring its neck, then pluck it for dinner cooking. This is a point of pride; I am expected to know how to do those things. I have never killed a chicken but have watched elders wring a chicken’s neck. Outside, knowing to always follow Grandpa’s orders, I begin chasing this stupid rooster all over our farm. We run around our hen house a few times, run between mule’s legs, run past my Choctaw elders who are laughing and yelling words at me, “akak okpulot taha lioli!” Crazy Chicken Chaser. Eventually, after sloshing through our pig pen, I corner this rooster in a pig slop trough. I grab him, slip a hand around his neck, as customary, begin slinging him around in circles then slam him down on the ground. This rooster instantly jumps up, then screams, “Brawwwwwk!” and takes off running like crazy. From our fields, “akak okpulot taha anuklamalli! “akak okpulot taha anuklamalli!” Crazy Chicken Choker, followed by lots and lots of laughter. To add insult to injury, that rooster from Hades runs right next to a Choctaw elder of mine out in a field. He deftly grabs the rooster, spins him twice then drops the rooster to the ground where my nemesis rooster begins an epileptic Saint Vitus death dance. My elder looks at me and grins. About the same time, Grandpa catches up with me. He is older and not as fast of foot as a young girl child and frightened rooster. He looks me over. I am covered with chicken crap, covered with pig crap, my hair is wet with pig slop and is littered with chicken scratch and chicken fluff. There are red welts on my forehead from rooster pecking and long scratches all over my face outlined with streaming tears. Grandpa motions with his hand, “Go round the side of the house, drop your overalls and bend over.” After a unusually gentle butt switching, none look to watch me walk to the farthest side of our fields to hoe weeds in private humiliation. My pride is pig slop now. That night, all of us, adults, Choctaw and children, each enjoy a little bit of fried rooster, which is a rare treat. Grandpa honors me by allowing me to sit with the adults to eat, instead of waiting until adults are finished, as children are expected, then eating whatever is leftover. Next day, a “Chahta ohoyo kasheo,” a Chocaw woman elder, hugs me, strokes my head then explains, “amafo fehnakchi lasaha.” Grandfather spank pride. I well understand her three word long story told many times, by many elders. Grandpa spanks me for hurting his pride and spanks me for hurting my pride. He expects me to know how to kill a chicken, quickly and efficiently. His pride is hurt because he did not teach me, my pride is hurt for not knowing how. Grandpa, with his switch laid to my bare butt, spanked both of us. To this day I have a tiny scar near an eye corner from that rooster, and to this day I still hate that rooster, and I am not prone to hatred. That rooster robbed me of my childhood pride for a day, much like a human man will rob a woman of her pride, for a night. Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

Goose down pillows. Reminds me of a story. During my childhood, we kids helped grandma make our fair share of down blankets and a few down pillows. We used soft chicken feathers, though. I miss this comfort of sinking deep into downy softness. In my early twenties, I decided to surprise my husand and our little girl with “feather” pillows to add a touch of the country to our inner-city lifestyle. We did not have much money, actually we were poor, but I did budget aside enough money over a year to buy four feather pillows through a mail order outfit, you know, one of those cheap circular magazines which arrive in mail. Major expense for us, I paid twenty dollars, plus shipping, for those feather pillows, an extra twenty dollars which took a year to save up. A day of anticipated excitement arrives; the man in brown is knocking at our door with a large but light box, “Sign her, ma’am. Not sure what is in this box but whatever it is, sure does smell bad.” In our small front room, I rip open this box with great anticipation. Instantly, I am almost floored by the smell of rotting flesh. This is awful. I manage to hold my breath, on and off, to clothespin those pillows on our clothesline. We could not afford a dryer but we did have a washer. Cannot wash feather pillows, however. I left those “Made In China” feather pillows hang out there under Southern California sunlight for almost two weeks. Never lost this smell of rotting flesh. Eventual outcome of those delightful feather pillows involves a trash can. That year, I gave a traditional farm gift to my loved ones, new socks. Our girl made us “I Love You” Christmas cards. Her father, though, truly delighted us; he brought home for us a used dryer he picked up for free on a job site. To this day, I remain annoyed with the Chinese for sending me rotting flesh feather pillows. I guess none of them ever lived on an Oklahoma farm. Fascinates me this delight we enjoy sleeping upon and under dead animal stuff, after stuffing ourselves with dead animal meat. This soft downy comfort helps us to close our eyes, just like we close our eyes to how this comfort comes about. Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

My expectation is all Americans will now refuse to eat turkey. Got this? You are to never again eat turkey. We cannot tolertate this type of cruelty simply so we can become fat, dumb and happy. No more turkey for Americans. Cow, chicken, buffalo, fish, pheasant, bull, eel, dog, zebra, caribou, moose, cat, rat, duck, horse, goose, goat and especially whale, you may continue to slaughter and eat those animals and other animals. No turkey, though. My presumption is none of you or very few of you have ever slaughtered hogs. Quite the art, you know. A lot of work, as well. I take pride in being the child favored to slit the throats of hogs. I am very good at this. I provide a quick and fairly painless death being well versed with a sharp knife. I am interested in those funnel like devices used at this turkey farm in the background. Rather ingenious, certainly works well to prevent a large turkey from flopping around in search of its sliced off head. We could have well used one of those on our rural Oklahoma farm. I am amused by Americans who gobble down animals with delight, while demanding to not learn of how those animals die for them. Will you ever again be able to rest your head upon a goose down pillow? Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

Reminds me of Islamic women being barred from appearing in photographs with Barack Obama. Step to the side, “sweetie.” Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

Couple of points. This type of Islamic inhumanity is not limited to Saudi Arabia, and is less severe in Saudi Arabia. Cruelty like this is pandemic within Islam. Other point is I would like to learn to what degree this type of Islamic abuse is taking place here in America and being ignored for political correctness concern. Islam is peace! So is death. Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

Joan barks, “She does not interest me at all.” There are those who say the same of you. I am one of those. Joan snarls, “She is the most guarded person I’ve ever met….” Some of us label this “dignity.” Those of us who have stepped out on the stage, have stood under the limelight, we well know there will be those amongst our audience who only look for reason to critique no matter how well our performance, no matter how eloquent our performance. Joan, you strike me as being one of those. Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

Marlo writes with candid words, “I’m really not interested in hearing one word more about HIM.” Marlo, darling, you will miss out on better learning why you dislike George Bush. Learning of dislike is more important than learning of like. Easy enough to understand why we like a person, why we love a person. There is not too much of need to give thought to why like and love are so easy to give to others, and so very easy to receive from others. Dislike and hatred, these are emotions we should come well to know. These are complex emotions rooted in our genetically wired instinct of “fight or flight” and these are emotions which can inflict and do often inflict great harm. These emotions of dislike and hatred are powerful and sometimes fatal. These are feelings within we are to come to well know so we can leash those feelings or let loose those feelings in appropriate and productive ways. We are responsible exercise complete control over our dangerous feelings. Only way to guard against dislike or hatred consuming our hearts, minds and our spirits is to well understand what causes those feelings. I find quite often my dislike of another is not well founded or founded upon irrational thinking. This is a personal weakness which can lead to others disliking or hating us. Within my traditional culture we have an expression related to dislike and hatred, “shilombish okpulo” which is an unclean spirit. We believe when we experience dislike or hatred, we are being touched by shilombish okpulo. This is a spirit which destroys people by leading people to destroy themselves. People, a tribe, a society, a civilization, will not survive if not strong enough to drive away shilombish okpulo. To defeat this spirit, you must internalize this spirit then learn of how your personal weaknesses are exploited, and learn how to defeat those weaknesses, then cast out shilombish okpulo from your heart, mind and spirit. I want to know more about Bush. I want to better understand why he invokes such strong negative feelings within. Upon learning of how this happens to me, I will be a better and stronger person. Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation

Liz Smith comments, “…she seems to be one of the rare members of the Bush dynasty with great common sense.” Most certainly. Personally, I believe Laura Bush to be a conservative Democrat at heart. Her track record on issues, least those she could be prompted to discuss, her record is one of a common sense moderate stance. I am also of an opinion Laura is the smartest of the Bush extended family. She is supportive of Roe versus Wade and has always avoided sharing her thoughts on abortion. She does promote adoption and other alternatives to abortion but carefully avoids condemning abortion. Her stance on gender issues favors women’s rights and, like with abortion, she is careful to avoid feminist issues. Laura did suggest a female Supreme Court justice. She is a soft spoken advocate for women. Interesting enough, she assumes a neutral stance on gay marriage and she does suggest this is a personal matter for communities and people to decide. As we all know, Laura is a strong advocate of literacy, especially child literacy. She devotes much time and energy to promoting reading skills and reading comprehension ability amongst children. These are highly critical skills for success in life. Laura is to be warmly commended for her efforts. Rather ironic Laura’s emphasis on literacy did not rub off on George. My hunch is Laura is the stronger of the two, her and George. I suspect, without Laura, her husband would have suffered a nervous breakdown years back. Laura appears to not have aged at all over the past eight years. George appears to have aged eighty years over the past eight years. Laura is a first class act. She simply exudes dignity and grace. I am interested to read Laura’s comments about being First Lady. I would like to learn how she found the personal strength to not clock George over his head with a whisky bottle. Okpulot Taha Choctaw Nation