Thursday, November 24, 2011

Alt Thanksgiving History.




The Real Thanksgiving

Quoted from: The Hidden History of Massachusetts


Much of America's understanding of the early relationship between the Indian and the European is conveyed through the story of Thanksgiving. Proclaimed a holiday in 1863 by Abraham Lincoln, this fairy tale of a feast was allowed to exist in the American imagination pretty much untouched until 1970, the 350th anniversary of the landing of the Pilgrims. That is when Frank B. James, president of the Federated Eastern Indian League, prepared a speech for a Plymouth banquet that exposed the Pilgrims for having committed, among other crimes, the robbery of the graves of the Wampanoags.


 He wrote:
"We welcomed you, the white man, with open arms, little knowing that it was the beginning of the end; that before 50 years were to pass, the Wampanoag would no longer be a free people."


But white Massachusetts officials told him he could not deliver such a speech and offered to write him another. Instead, James declined to speak, and on Thanksgiving Day hundreds of Indians from around the country came to protest. It was the first National Day of Mourning, a day to mark the losses Native Americans suffered as the early settlers prospered. This true story of "Thanksgiving" is what whites did not want Mr. James to tell.


What Really Happened in Plymouth in 1621?


According to a single-paragraph account in the writings of one Pilgrim, a harvest feast did take place in Plymouth in 1621, probably in mid-October, but the Indians who attended were not even invited. Though it later became known as "Thanksgiving," the Pilgrims never called it that. And amidst the imagery of a picnic of interracial harmony is some of the most terrifying bloodshed in New World history.


The Pilgrim crop had failed miserably that year, but the agricultural expertise of the Indians had produced twenty acres of corn, without which the Pilgrims would have surely perished. The Indians often brought food to the Pilgrims, who came from England ridiculously unprepared to survive and hence relied almost exclusively on handouts from the overly generous Indians-thus making the Pilgrims the western hemisphere's first class of welfare recipients.


 The Pilgrims invited the Indian sachem Massasoit to their feast, and it was Massasoit, engaging in the tribal tradition of equal sharing, who then invited ninety or more of his Indian brothers and sisters-to the annoyance of the 50 or so ungrateful Europeans. No turkey, cranberry sauce or pumpkin pie was served; they likely ate duck or geese and the venison from the 5 deer brought by Massasoit. In fact, most, if notall, of the food was most likely brought and prepared by the Indians, whose 10,000-year familiarity with the cuisine of the region had kept the whites alive up to that point.


The Pilgrims wore no black hats or buckled shoes-these were the silly inventions of artists hundreds of years since that time. These lower-class Englishmen wore brightly colored clothing, with one of their church leaders recording among his possessions "1 paire of greene drawers." 


Contrary to the fabricated lore of storytellers generations since, no Pilgrims prayed at the meal, and the supposed good cheer and fellowship must have dissipated quickly once the Pilgrims brandished their weaponry in a primitive display of intimidation. 


What's more, the Pilgrims consumed a good deal of home brew. In fact, each Pilgrim drank at least a half gallon of beer a day, which they preferred even to water. This daily inebriation led their governor, William Bradford, to comment on his people's "notorious sin," which included their "drunkenness and uncleanliness" and rampant "sodomy"...




The Pilgrims of Plymouth, The Original Scalpers


Contrary to popular mythology the Pilgrims were no friends to the local Indians. They were engaged in a ruthless war of extermination against their hosts, even as they falsely posed as friends. Just days before the alleged Thanksgiving love-fest, a company of Pilgrims led by Myles Standish actively sought to chop off the head of a local chief. They deliberately caused a rivalry between two friendly Indians, pitting one against the other in an attempt to obtain "better intelligence and make them both more diligent." An 11-foot-high wall was erected around the entire settlement for the purpose of keeping the Indians out.


Any Indian who came within the vicinity of the Pilgrim settlement was subject to robbery, enslavement, or even murder. The Pilgrims further advertised their evil intentions and white racial hostility, when they mounted five cannons on a hill around their settlement, constructed a platform for artillery, and then organized their soldiers into four companies-all in preparation for the military destruction of their friends the Indians.


Pilgrim Myles Standish eventually got his bloody prize. He went to the Indians, pretended to be a trader, then beheaded an Indian man named Wituwamat. He brought the head to Plymouth, where it was displayed on a wooden spike for many years, according to Gary B. Nash, "as a symbol of white power." Standish had the Indian man's young brother hanged from the rafters for good measure. From that time on, the whites were known to the Indians of Massachusetts by the name "Wotowquenange," which in their tongue meant cutthroats and stabbers.


Who Were the "Savages"?


The myth of the fierce, ruthless Indian savage lusting after the blood of innocent Europeans must be vigorously dispelled at this point. In actuality, the historical record shows that the very opposite was true.


Once the European settlements stabilized, the whites turned on their hosts in a brutal way. The once amicable relationship was breeched again and again by the whites, who lusted over the riches of Indian land. A combination of the Pilgrims' demonization of the Indians, the concocted mythology of Eurocentric historians, and standard Hollywood propaganda has served to paint the gentle Indian as a tomahawk-swinging savage endlessly on the warpath, lusting for the blood of the God-fearing whites.


But the Pilgrims' own testimony obliterates that fallacy. The Indians engaged each other in military contests from time to time, but the causes of "war," the methods, and the resulting damage differed profoundly from the European variety:


o Indian "wars" were largely symbolic and were about honor, not about territory or extermination.


o "Wars" were fought as domestic correction for a specific act and were ended when correction was achieved. Such action might better be described as internal policing. The conquest or destruction of whole territories was a European concept.


o Indian "wars" were often engaged in by family groups, not by whole tribal groups, and would involve only the family members.


o A lengthy negotiation was engaged in between the aggrieved parties before escalation to physical confrontation would be sanctioned. Surprise attacks were unknown to the Indians.


o It was regarded as evidence of bravery for a man to go into "battle" carrying no weapon that would do any harm at a distance-not even bows and arrows. The bravest act in war in some Indian cultures was to touch their adversary and escape before he could do physical harm.


o The targeting of non-combatants like women, children, and the elderly was never contemplated. Indians expressed shock and repugnance when the Europeans told, and then showed, them that they considered women and children fair game in their style of warfare.


o A major Indian "war" might end with less than a dozen casualties on both sides. Often, when the arrows had been expended the "war" would be halted. The European practice of wiping out whole nations in bloody massacres was incomprehensible to the Indian.


According to one scholar, "The most notable feature of Indian warfare was its relative innocuity."


 European observers of Indian wars often expressed surprise at how little harm they actually inflicted. "Their wars are far less bloody and devouring than the cruel wars of Europe," commented settler Roger Williams in 1643. 


Even Puritan warmonger and professional soldier Capt. John Mason scoffed at Indian warfare: "[Their] feeble manner...did hardly deserve the name of fighting." 


Fellow warmonger John Underhill spoke of the Narragansetts, after having spent a day "burning and spoiling" their country: 


"no Indians would come near us, but run from us, as the deer from the dogs." He concluded that the Indians might fight seven years and not kill seven men. Their fighting style, he wrote, "is more for pastime, than to conquer and subdue enemies."


All this describes a people for whom war is a deeply regrettable last resort. An agrarian people, the American Indians had devised a civilization that provided dozens of options all designed to avoid conflict--the very opposite of Europeans, for whom all-out war, a ferocious bloodlust, and systematic genocide are their apparent life force. 


Thomas Jefferson--who himself advocated the physical extermination of the American Indian--said of Europe, "They [Europeans] are nations of eternal war. All their energies are expended in the destruction of labor, property and lives of their people."


Puritan Holocaust
By the mid 1630s, a new group of 700 even holier Europeans calling themselves Puritans had arrived on 11 ships and settled in Boston-which only served to accelerate the brutality against the Indians.


In one incident around 1637, a force of whites trapped some seven hundred Pequot Indians, mostly women, children, and the elderly, near the mouth of the Mystic River. Englishman John Mason attacked the Indian camp with "fire, sword, blunderbuss, and tomahawk." Only a handful escaped and few prisoners were taken-to the apparent delight of the Europeans:
To see them frying in the fire, and the streams of their blood quenching the same, and the stench was horrible; but the victory seemed a sweet sacrifice, and they gave praise thereof to God.


This event marked the first actual Thanksgiving. In just 10 years 12,000 whites had invaded New England, and as their numbers grew they pressed for all-out extermination of the Indian. Euro-diseases had reduced the population of the Massachusett nation from over 24,000 to less than 750; meanwhile, the number of European settlers in Massachusetts rose to more than 20,000 by 1646.


By 1675, the Massachusetts Englishmen were in a full-scale war with the great Indian chief of the Wampanoags, Metacomet. Renamed "King Philip" by the white man, Metacomet watched the steady erosion of the lifestyle and culture of his people as European-imposed laws and values engulfed them.


In 1671, the white man had ordered Metacomet to come to Plymouth to enforce upon him a new treaty, which included the humiliating rule that he could no longer sell his own land without prior approval from whites. They also demanded that he turn in his community's firearms. Marked for extermination by the merciless power of a distant king and his ruthless subjects, Metacomet retaliated in 1675 with raids on several isolated frontier towns. Eventually, the Indians attacked 52 of the 90 New England towns, destroying 13 of them. The Englishmen ultimately regrouped, and after much bloodletting defeated the great Indian nation, just half a century after their arrival on Massachusetts soil. Historian Douglas Edward Leach describes the bitter end:


The ruthless executions, the cruel sentences...were all aimed at the same goal-unchallengeable white supremacy in southern New England. That the program succeeded is convincingly demonstrated by the almost complete docility of the local native ever since.


When Captain Benjamin Church tracked down and murdered Metacomet in 1676, his body was quartered and parts were "left for the wolves." 


The great Indian chief's hands were cut off and sent to Boston and his head went to Plymouth, where it was set upon a pole on the real first "day of public Thanksgiving for the beginning of revenge upon the enemy." Metacomet's nine-year-old son was destined for execution because, the whites reasoned, the offspring of the devil must pay for the sins of their father. The child was instead shipped to the Caribbean to spend his life in slavery.


As the Holocaust continued, several official Thanksgiving Days were proclaimed. Governor Joseph Dudley declared in 1704 a "General Thanksgiving"-not in celebration of the brotherhood of man-but for [God's] infinite Goodness to extend His Favors...In defeating and disappointing... the Expeditions of the Enemy [Indians] against us, And the good Success given us against them, by delivering so many of them into our hands...


Just two years later one could reap a ££50 reward in Massachusetts for the scalp of an Indian-demonstrating that the practice of scalping was a European tradition. 


According to one scholar, "Hunting redskins became...a popular sport in New England, especially since prisoners were worth good money..."


References in The Hidden History of Massachusetts: A Guide for Black Folks ©© DR. TINGBA APIDTA, ; ISBN 0-9714462-0-2

Monday, November 21, 2011

Figwit, the 3 second global superstar. Documentary

I love nutty NZ Comedy and it seems the world does too. Flight of the Conchords are huge, The Boy with tape on his face is getting that way with a Royal variety performance this year. The whole 'NZ quirk' brand is a large reservoir of potential. We seem to not appear to be trying thst hard when we act silly. It's a casual, relaxed silly that the rest of the world find charming I guess.


Anyone interested in forming a NZ Quirk Export company please bear me in mind.


The documentary looks at the rise to celebrity status of NZ actor and musician Bret McKenzie, who appeared for 3 seconds as an extra in "The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring", during the Council of Elrond scene. His brief appearance sparked a huge internet fan-base dedicated to his "brooding pout" and "elvish good looks"


. McKenzie has been dubbed "FIGWIT", an acronym of "Frodo is Great; Who is That!!?"

Featuring Bret McKenzie, Jermaine Clement, Orlando Bloom, Elijah Wood, Sir Peter Jackson and Sir Ian Mckellan



I think it's hilarious and shows that the internet empowers people who recognise that power, that they can get gleefully subversive with it.











Friday, November 18, 2011

See? Non verbal communication is the shit!

Obviously aware that this could not be conveyed without the spoken word to the many however the quality of the communication between two men, unspoken, is what these words reveal.
And as always I breath a profound sigh that this is so.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

US History, lest we forget.


The ruling elite proceeded in 1933 to organize a coup intended to topple the Roosevelt administration and replace it with a government modelled on the policies of Adolf Hitler and Benito Mussolini. (A 1934 Congressional committee determined that Prescott Bush, granddad of Dubya, was in communication with Hitler.) The plotters included some of the foremost members of the business class, many of them household names at the time. Prominent insurgents included Rockefeller, Mellon, Pew, Morgan and Dupont, as well as enterprises like Remington, Anaconda, Bethlehem and Goodyear, and the owners of Bird’s Eye, Maxwell House and Heinz. About twenty four major businessmen and Wall Street financiers planned to assemble a private army of half a million men, composed largely of unemployed veterans. These troops would constitute the armed force behind the coup and defeat any resistance the in-house revolution might generate.

The revolutionaries chose Medal of Honor recipient and Marine Major General Smedley Butler to organize its armed forces. Butler was appalled by the plot and spilled the beans to journalists and to Congress. FDR nipped the thing in the bud.

The attempted coup was a landmark event in US history, baring the soul of America’s standing wealth. (We find no mention of this event in US history textbooks. History unfit to print.) We have no reason to think that these fascist instincts have been expunged from the class character of our rulers. No less important, the scandal alerts us to the elite’s Leninism, its identification of the State as the political prize of prizes, the seat of class power.

Who needs mercenaries when you've bought the senate and brainwashed the constabulary, when you own all the major media outlets and if you do need mercenaries for the really dirty jobs well there's ten years worth of war hardened 'private security forces' on hand. Bred to shoot anything they are paid to.


Sorry, back to clown stuff.......

Monday, November 14, 2011

My interview for the 'Busker Hall of Fame'



It's close to an hour which is a long time. Longer than I'd be prepared to listen if it wasn't me but that said I guess it's interesting. I'd suggest putting it on in the background rather than giving it your undivided attention. I'd rather you did that than not listen at all. Do what you like just don't email and tell me you didn't listen to it as that would hurt my feelings.

Notes: In this episode Robert interviews performer, author and clown philosopher, Martin Ewen and discusses a career from it’s beginnings as a Bank Robbing Clown to Stilt Dancing oddity in Tokyo to the discovery of of his Lurk persona in Paris and the realization that you don’t need to be nice to an audience to fascinate them. In the interview, Robert mentions Martin’s book Panto Damascus. For more information about this title, go to Amazon.com, Lulu.com or MartinEwen.com and order your own copy.




Here's the interview....


http://buskerhalloffame.com/audio-files/episode103-interview.mp3






Jason Webley; Street Performer

Jason is a lyricist and a performer. He plays big stages but he also plays under bridges to the people that gather there and on the streets to passers by. He's timeless and his work is to me quite powerful.

He goes to NZ and Europe and anywhere he's asked or is curious about, he himself is vaguely North American.

He's one of those rare jolly fatalists who amplify the obvious tragedy of our short tawdry confused and bumbling existences in a way that we can all sing along. He lends dignity somehow to all that is shambolic. I think so anyway.




Last Song(c)1999 by Jason Webley
One day, The snow began to fall,
 And slowly, inch by inch, Covered up the earth.
 'Til finally, The top of the tallest building,
Was lost beneath a powdered sea, As quiet as a shadow's grave.


And we say that the world isn't dying. And we pray that the world isn't dying. And just maybe the world isn't dying. Maybe she's heavy with child.


One night, A woman took my hand. I left my home and followed her Into an icy field.
When I wanted to go back, I'd lost the way.
So she beckoned me to lie beneath The stone that always bore my name.

One morning, We woke up in an alley. To the smell of urine, alcohol, Trash and gasoline,
With a dim sense of a notion We'd held something in our hands,
That was bigger than us or God, And we can never touch again.

I've been looking at the symptoms for a while, Maybe she's heavy with child.


Jason: vocals, accordion, stomping, vodka bottle, pump organ, double bass


Trained monkeys: igga-di igga-di igga-digga-dup.


Dance While the Sky Crashes Down(c)1999 by Jason Webley


The flowers by your bed are wilting.
 The sun is setting in the west. A fog is covering your eyes, Your stockings are attracting flies, Decay is nibbling at the boards on which you rest.

There's someone waiting at your window,
 Familiar face without a name.
 One night he'll creep in like the mist, To touch your forehead with a kiss, And lead you back into the void from whence you came.

We've all begun to die, and don't know what to do.
Since it hurts to pray to God, when God is dying too.
Takes strength to laugh, when you start to drown.
And we dance while the sky crashes down.

Like that the earth begins to quiver, And all the oceans turn to black. A ship of maniacs with knives, Are playing Blackjack with their lives, To kill the time until the giant rats attack.

It's raining leprosy and acid.
The saints were taken out and shot. 


When someone proffers you a pear, You sink your teeth in unaware, That just beneath the skin lies pestilence and rot.


All that now breathes, and all that you love, All that we weave, will find its way back to the dust.


A band of skeletons is playing, Don't act like you don't know the tune. 


Your part is echoed in the path, Of every dead leaf blowing past, Against a counterpoint reflected off the moon.


There is a banquet at the table, Exotic cheeses wines and cakes. 
And every one of us is damned, Until we start to understand, That living is to gorge ourselves at our own wakes.


When the stakes are high, best to play the clown. And we dance while the sky crashes down.



Jason: vocals, guitar, accordion, marimba, double bass, drums.


http://www.jasonwebley.com/index.html