Sunday, June 24, 2007


Fuck YEAH!

OK, folks, I started a new blog and will start posting there from now on because it will be so much easier for me to deal with new format behind the scenes stuff instead of pulling my fucking hair out...figuratively speaking, of course.

New blog address is just as easy as this one:



I done fucked up my comments on my blog. I thought I had updated when I got the invitation to the new version. I have no idea what is fucking happening. I can't find anywhere on the fucking internet to get my questions answered. I don't know if I can get the new version anymore. I try to ask questions wherever the fuck I get to on the internet and can't WRITE MY OWN FUCKING QUESTIONS! I get pre-selected questions. I'm getting tired of trying to figure this fucking shit out and am going to go out for a while before I go FUCKING NUTS TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW I GET THE NEW VERSION AND HOW I FUCKED UP MY OLD VERSION AND SO ON!

If anyone reading this can PLEASE help me, contact me at:

Saturday, June 23, 2007



One day, about a year and a half ago, before Rhonda and I had met, I was taking Felicia on one of our many trips downtown on the bus. We were heading for KBOO, and went straight to Burnside and started heading for the bridge. I was excited.

"I want to show you something. It's really cool. It's something you've seen many times, but you haven't seen like this."

She pretended to be interested just to please me, then her interest became lackluster. We started heading past Big Pink, Portland's tallest building. I made her stop beside it.

"How many times have we walked past Big Pink?" I asked her.

"Lots," she answered.

I turned her back to the building and she faced the street. "I'm gonna teach you something about perspective," I told her. "Sometimes there are amazing things right before our very eyes. We pass them often. Don't think much about them...until we change our perspective a little and maybe we'll see something fantastic."

I held her shoulders and told her to lean back and look up.

She was completely awed by something she never paid attention to before. Her look of surprise and amazement is one I will never forget. Something she had seen many times...all it took was to look up. Maybe next time we'll look down, lay on our backs and look at the clouds, look at what's under the deck, find friends in people we hardly paid attention to...


other perspectives


A Prayer for Help

I usually just pray silently to the spirits, but you are all spirits, so maybe one or more of you might be able to help.

Rhonda and I are looking to move to the country. Either on the outskirts of Eugene or Salem. We want to be out of town without any traffic noise etc.

Yesterday we drove down to Cottage Grove to look at a house which turned out to be a total piece of crap: roof falling in on the storage section (as well as the floor rotted out), looked like it had flooded there, house stank, etc. It was across the street from a store and two fellows drinking their beer from brown paper bags. Not a nice neighborhood either.

But we are looking and if you can help, GREAT!

Friday, June 22, 2007


12 Years Ago

12 years ago, I danced in the hottest heat. My flesh was torn from my body. Convulsions shook me like earth quakes. And I knew...I knew you were coming. I knew I was about to take steps up magical stairs to share life with you.

12 yeas ago next month, you held my finger like we had known each other forever, and it was only the first moment we met. In the 45 minute ride in the care, you didn't let go. And there you are, sitting on the magic staircase and gazing into your own future.

You still need a lot of guidance, young one, but that is what we are here for, enit?


30 years ago

30 years ago, on summer solstice, I sat on a rock wall, at the peak of a trail, along the Rogue River. With a few companions we sat and ate our lunch as noon came and went on the longest day at the start of our week long hike. And I remember you, the sights, sounds, smells, and now...I have a new connection to you.

Thursday, June 21, 2007


No Mirrors, Please, I Know I'm Already Beautiful

I talked with a friend recently whose dad is a Vietnam Vet. She told me that she believes the end of the war was the worst because military folks were given free reign to behave however they wanted. Many body parts were taken as war trophies off of our troops victims.

The term Redskins, as many of you know, was coined during the 1600's when bounty was collected from killing Indians and skin was peeled from their backs and tanned. It had a red tint to it, thus the name Redskins. During these good old days, Indian scrotums were used for tobacco pouches, scalps for bounties and decorations, labia for saddle horn and had decorations, skin for reins and razor straps, etc.

The more I think of Sherman Alexie's new book, "Flight," the less I like it. In it, he describes how, at the Battle of the Little Big Horn, the Indians were mutilating the soldiers after the battle. His character was disgusted by it, but Sherman gave absolutely no context. He made no mention of how the wonderful white folks treated Indians. How Indians knew their survival as a distinct group was on the line because the white folks wanted to slaughter every last one of us. How the white folks wanted to slaughter every last Indian so wealthy white folks could make more money.

My whole life, I have faced racism. Some overt, but mostly institutional. I, as an Indian, am supposed to fit in a certain type of box which is usually one of two major categories: an alcoholic, or entertainment for white folks. Since I am neither of these things, and since I stand up to the white society that tries to narrowly define my humanity through my race, and since I call folks on this style of racism, I make a lot of people, "uncomfortable." I beat on whitey with my words because what they do to me and so many others, not just Indians, is wrong.

However, since I call whitey: whitey, cracker, and peckerwood, whitey starts calling Me or whatever person of color calls them out, the racists. Since we've become the racists, they consider themsleves to no longer be the racists and no longer have to examine their ideals of race, supremacy, privilege, etc. They use this (and many other things) to justify their behavior without examination.

Like with the horrific mutilations, racism doesn't stop. Bounties take different form in the wars currently going on. People on the defense, desiring survival in any form are instantly demonized for whatever they do, and white folks no longer have to examine their own behavior because since their victims are doing it for survival's sake, in their minds, it justifies their behavior. No examination is necessary.

This nation has a horrific history. Genocide of Indians. Subjegation of the poor. Systematic abuse and oppression of women. Child labor practices. Poor health care. Brutal apartheid of blacks. Wage slave labor of Chinese and Irish. Colonization. Occupation. Racism. Sexism. The list goes on and on, and oddly, all of this horrific SHIT has a name...Freedom!

Wednesday, June 20, 2007




Anti-whaling ships to fly First Nations flags

Cheryl Cornacchia
The Gazette

Monday, June 18, 2007

After being stripped of registration papers and prohibited from sailing under the Canadian flag earlier this year, two of the world's best-known ocean warriors found a friendly port of call in the Mohawk community of Kahnawake today.

The Farley Mowat and the Robert Hunter two ocean-going vessels operated by the Sea Shepherd Conservation Authority, an international anti-whaling group will travel under a First Nations flag and with registration paper's signed by one of Kahnawake's three longhouses when they set sail for Antarctica later this year.

At a signing ceremony today, Paul Watson, captain of the Farley Mowat, was presented with the papers for his ship and the Robert Hunter, as well as with two Five Nations Iroquois Confederacy flags, a purple flag with symbols representing the Mohawks, Oneida, Onondaga, Seneca and Cayuga.

Watson said the ships will set sail from Australia for Antarctica in November where the crews will try to prevent Japanese whaling ships from killing whales.

"It's a real honour to have the Mohawk flag flying on these ships," said Stuart Myiow of the Mohawk Traditional Council, the longhouse that drew up the registration papers.
© The Gazette 2007

Monday, June 18, 2007


An Ancient Story...Maybe

These three are hills on the east side of I-5 at mile marker 221. The first and third make up and hill known as Saddle Butte. The second photo is called Ward Butte.

One time, a few years back, I was at one of Condi's Hemp Fests, and really high on Goo Balls. His place was not too far south from these glorious hills. And these hills told me this story, while high on goo balls.

There was a young couple that were in Love. But the father didn't think that the young man was good enough for his daughter. No matter what the young man did to prove his Love for the father's daughter, it wasn't good enough. Her father wanted her to marry a man he considered better. But the couples Love was strong and seeing the impasse, they decided to run away together, and when they came back, the father would have to accept their Love. The father decided to chase them. He Loved his daughter. He had mixed feelings. He didn't want to lose his daughter. He didn't want her to marry this man either because he felt he wasn't worthy. But maybe he was worthy if it meant that he was willing to run away with his daughter. He wanted to catch them and attempt to think clearly about this. Then a natural disaster struck and killed them. In their place was placed these hills. The young man is the first photo, father is the second, the daughter is the third. These photos were taken while driving 55 down the freeway in a truck. I just wanted to tell you all that story.


Pictures of Beauty


Non-Violence is a Bullshit Lie

"We declare our right on this be a human being, to be respected as a human being, to be given the rights of a human being in this society, on this earth, in this day, which we intend to bring into existence by any means necessary."

--Malcolm X

"At the risk of sounding ridiculous, let me say that the true revolutionary is guided by feelings of love."

--Ernesto "Che" Guevarra

I do not believe in non-violence. Non-violence is a lie, and a privilege.

It took excessive amounts of violence, rape, genocide, and so many other forms of horrific violence from Chris to the present to secure this nation where folks will tell me they are superior to me because they are non-violent. It takes some serious oppression and violence to maintain this current american system so that the non-violent types can have the PRIVILEGE of behaving non-violently. I hear these non-violent types speak out against the war in Iraq, but I don't hear them speak out about other wars?

Recently, our dark skinned brothers and sisters from the south have been arrested and are about to be deported. Children have come home from school to find no parents and their is a good chance they may never see them again. Where are the voices of non-violence now? Why aren't we in the streets rioting to get our brothers and sisters back? Horrific violence is being enacted against these families. It is racist. Their aren't any raids arresting illegal whites from Canada and deporting them back to their privileged nation of Canada. This is racist to the core. Racism is violence. Why aren't their riots in the streets? We just let the man do his job. And those claiming to be non-violent are most likely complicit in this violence. Complicity in violence is violence.

But always, there is this superiority thing that whities like to claim over me. If they're non-violent, they are superior to me because I claim to not be non-violent. If they are whitey vegans they are superior to me because I eat meat and support Makah Whaling. If they are the two local kings of peace, they are superior to me because they carry Gandhian principles in their hearts (the more I learn about Gandhi, the less I like the man). If you're white skinned, you're superior to me.

But the truth is, you ain't nothin' but a bunch of human beings who benefit from horrific violence. Violence against women (both kings of peace I've noticed are abusive, sexist, and racist...all forms of violence). Violence against Indians, Blacks, Brothers and Sisters from the South, children, Iraqi's, Afghani's, Women in the Middle-East, etc., etc., etc. We are all beneficiaries of violence, and therfore hve NO RIGHT, in my opinion, to claim non-violence as a title.

Superiority through non-violence? What is it with you white folks and superiority? You're so fucking afraid of losing your racial identity. What the fuck? Excuse me, but superiority is maintained through violence in one or more of it's many forms. That is NOT non-violence.

Alleged "non-violence" is a privilege. It has taken massive amounts of violence to create this nation state currently known as the United States. It takes massive amounts of violence to maintain the privilege enjoyed by those who claim non-violence as their title. Non-violence should not be used as a title because in this nation, it is a lie.

My words here are violence of a sort. They are designed to slap down those with attitudes of superiority to me and others by claiming non-violence as their title. Superiority is violence, and non-violence as a title is a lie. You can't be superior and non-violent. To be superior you have to act in one form of violence or another, many choose complicity. Complicity is simpler than enacting the violence oneself.

The last time I was in a fight I was 12, with the exception of the controlled sparring while taking martial arts classes. So I have not physically attacked anyone in anger for 31 years with the intent to do them physical harm. I used to get beat up by a bully a lot, when I was 12, I fought back. We didn't have a fight since. My violence was in self-defense and the beatings stopped. But I would never claim as my title, non-violence, especially since my current form of privilege comes from excessive violence from around the world.

I am superior to no one, and no one is superior to me. We are all human beings. But many folks believe they are superior to me for one reason or another. Non-violence, veganism, alleged Gandhian practices, white skin, kings of peace, you name it, I'm sure there are millions of reasons folks can consider themselves superior to me, and Iraqi babies are going to continue to get sick and die, Indians on the Pine Ridge Reservation are still gonna starve and commit suicide, blacks will still be oppressed in South Africa, our brothers and sisters from the South will continue to have their families damaged through the violence of the racist deportation system, women will still be raped by men in defense of the forests, etc.

I wish all you superior folks would get your naked asses of your bikes and do something about the oppression of your brothers and sisters instead of declaring your superiority to us in whatever form that may take.

I could care less what you think of me. I could care less about your non-violence, veganism, or other forms of superiority. What I care about are those peoples who suffer under horrific conditions that brought you the privilege to declare yourself better than me or others for whatever titles you so grandly place upon yourselves. Your titles aren't ending the killings or horrific oppressions.

Ward Churchill always brings up Madeline Albright's declaration in 1998 I believe, that 500,000 dead Iraqi children is an acceptable loss for the empire. Many more now, of course. And always during the question and answer periods, all I hear are challenges to his interpretation of the ninth ammendment, or whitey crying "don't deport me." No one has ever spoken out against the horrific violence in the words of that DEMOCRAT, Madeline Albright, nor the horrific violence enacted by the Clinton administration.

Something is missing here. Maybe we can find it and have ourselves a Revolution, huh?


Neo-Nazi Banner Drop

There was a banner drop by some what I assume to be Neo-Nazi types off of the Marquam Bridge so you can see it when you are coming from the South. Now, I've heard word that there is going to be some sort of white supremacist rally or something of the sorts here in the whitest town of its size in the U.S., Portland, Oregon, sometime this summer. I wonder if we're going to get to see some naked bicyclists riding through the streets. I'm just sayin'.



Yesterday was Father's Day. I don't put a whole lotta weight into the holiday for many different reasons, so if Felicia chooses to do something or not do something for me, it doesn't matter to me all that much. If she did do something for me, I would appreciate it greatly. This year, she chose not to. She did send me an e-card and say, "Happy Father's Day" to me. I guess that is something. I won't go into why I don't care about the holiday here, but you can guess that YES, it is indeed political.

My father, Louis "Louie" Wilbur Johnson, passed away on December 31, 1981. He was 48. My dad was a boiler-maker and made a lot of money when he was working. He made more per hour working in the field, but worked less so made pretty much the same amount per year. My father also wanted to be a political activist. My father, a member of the Siletz (as it were), wanted to be a part of the whole movement back in the '70's. My mother, who was rather forceful in the arena of "money," dragged him out of one meeting when she found out the tribe wasn't going to be handing out big fat checks to individuals. You should have seen the broken look on my father's face. My mother his still alive and lives in North Portland here somewhere. I haven't seen her in over a year and a half. She doesn't call nor make an attempt to get in contact with me either.

My dad had a wonderful smile. I have a picture of that somewhere, or maybe my sister does. I'll have to see if I can't find it and post it.

My father also helped in the raising of a lot of kids. Something his mother passed on to him.

My father was also an alcoholic. I got to watch him drink himself to death, especially as my sisters moved away. I was there when it started, my mother was the only one there when it ended, and I regret that I wasn't.

Dad, if you're out there somewhere...I miss you. I know you'd Love Rhonda, and Ridwan, and all of my other friends. I know you'd be horning in on the shows and letting you opinion known. I know you'd be learning, and struggling, right along with the rest of us. You were a good human being...and I miss you.

--Your Son, Eugene Douglas Johnson

Saturday, June 16, 2007



Let me give you an example here:

I have a friend named Jan. She is a recovering Catholic nun, has been in recovery for many years now. For years she makes frequent visits to her friends on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. Before she goes, she takes up a collection, usually of clothes, and takes them to the folks there.

Now mind you, the conditions of life on the Pine Ridge Rez are some of the most HORRIFIC in the U.S. It is not because they won't pull themselves up from their bootstraps, as white folks are so fond of telling them, it is because the U.S. government keeps their boot on the neck of their economy and strongly encourage corruption through the U.S. forced tribal governments. People are starving at the end of every month on that rez.

The White Plumes tried to start a hemp plantation, legal on the rez. However, whitey decided that would get them too close to economic independence and came in and destroyed it via their state sanctioned terrorist arm known as the FBI.

How about making a "political statement" about the U.S. government getting the fuck off of our land and letting us be? How about speaking out about the illegal deportations of darkies to the south, while the whities from the north don't get the privilege of being deported in mass quantities. How come the laws apply differently to whites than darkies from the south?

We need your fucking help, whitey. Don't pretend your making a political statement riding around naked on a bike. Make a political statement by getting out their and pushing the U.S. government off our lands.

And there is so much more that needs doing. So much more. Riding naked on a bike, being vegan, etc., isn't helping fucking shit. We need you OUT THERE helping. Raising your hands and voices. Taking action. REAL action.

Feh! Why am I wasting my time?


I'm Calling You Out, Whitey!

Here Whitey...

*whistle* *whistle* *whistle*

*smooch* *smooch* *smooch*

HERE whitey...

C'mon, at least tell me how racist I am and how it isn't racist at all to turn your backs on your brothers and sisters from the south about to get deported considering they don't have white skin and aren't illegals out of Canada stealing YOUR jobs. Tell me how it's not racist to NOT go after the corporations that destroy their countries economies creating their conditions of immigration and that move YOUR jobs out of the country while YOU, oh great and glorious white folks, go after darky illegals from the South, but not whitey illegals from the North.

C'mon, whitey. Come on!

Come out, come out, wherever you are!

Usually you all are so fucking arrogant. You know, like when you all Love telling Ward Churchill he isn't Indian, because, afterall, who would know better than Whitey who is and isn't Indian. But as your continue your attempts to kill the messenger, in this case, because he called the Whiteys and Whitey Wannabees in the suits in the "two towers" "little Eichmans," you all decided to kill the messenger. But I notice one thing, Whitey, you never go after the message. You don't try to kill the message that Ward speaks of and does so in the truth. You never challenge the ideas he puts out about the genocide of our peoples. You never challenge the fact that he spits the current genocides in your face, specifically that great democrat, Madeline Albright, saying what an acceptable loss 500,000 dead darky Iraqi babies is, and you all mother-fuckers still don't speak out about that...but you do attack his Indianness. You have YET to say what a horrific act it is to kill darky babies.

C'mon whitey! Come out, come out, wherever you are!

Here Whitey...

*whistle* *whistle* *whistle*

*smooch* *smooch* *smooch*

HERE whitey...

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?

Subscribe to Posts [Atom]