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columbia's only paper with a liquor license
Issue 17.4: dysfunction
Posted: November 3, 2001

Thanks, My Ass: Mohican Joe speaks out

Ehi Oviasu

I can normally stomach the rest of the year sitting here on my 4 square feet of land, watching you guys go to Braves games in Jeep Cherokees and buying your daughters dream catchers and god-awful turquoise jewelry. I can tolerate the cute casino names and the suede tassel jackets. And, after a few beers, I can even watch that stupid trash commercial without crying. I know that guy, and believe me he has a lot more to cry about than some cans and bottles.

But this one is too much.

Thanksgiving, huh? I mean, that's just cruel. You create a holiday that celebrates the stealing of my home, name and dignity ,and then you expect me to be grateful for it? Fuck you.

Well, 'tis the season to be jolly, or some shit like that, so let me rattle off what I'm thankful for. I really appreciate this cozy acre that I share with 34,000 other folks. I love how people like me make up less than 1% of college students. It's really super how we didn't become citizens until 1934. Oh yeah, and that drunken treaty-signing thing was fabulous. Yup, the anniversary of how my people were unilaterally screwed just makes me all tingly plain inside.

But in order for you all to understand my obvious glee, I have to explain the history of this holiday. Yeah, I was there at the first Thanksgiving. It sucked. Those Pilgrims couldn't cook for shit, and they boiled everything. (You know candied yams don't come from no white cookbook). As a peace offering, we gave them our most treasured symbol of wisdom, and they went and stuffed spices up his ass and ate him. By 3 o'clock everyone was drunk. That's when someone thought it would be really funny to steal my peace pipe and smoke up half the Massachusetts Bay Colony. We didn't even get leftovers. Then the next year, they came back and killed us all. The End. The cool stuff, like football and parades, came much later, and by then we had had the shit kicked out of us too many times to care.

If you want to give me something to be truly thankful for, I'll take a freshman girl and some peyote. I would also like it if the bouncer at the West End would stop referring to my grandson as " Pissing-On-Barstool" and "Little Brave With No ID". And for once it would be nice to not have to play the Indian in the local parade.