Until The Boy Scouts Examine Why Lightning Hates Them They're Going To Continue Getting Electrocuted
By Ward Churchill
Talk all you want about honor badges. Until you drop the God riff and your homophobic cants, you're going to meet mister kilowatt, there scout.
And before you start your nauseating bilge about "divine providence", just remember that empirical evidence exists to prove that George W. Bush knew that four scoutmasters planned to erect a giant tent post near high voltage lines. And since he has a red phone to NOAA, he also has a fast track to the latest barometric turns. He is culpable.
But what about your own capability there, Freddy flint-flicker? You've taunted lightning and precipitation with your completely isolated lifestyle; your merit ceremonies, your balsa wood car races, your ad hoc, rain-gutter regattas. You didn't care up to now, and you expect the world to come crying just because your campfire was outsourced by an inadvertent arc? Give the world a break, Ranger Rick. Nobody cares.
As a gay Native American artist, I am appalled that any sympathy is extended towards you and your creased-pant battalions. You are the brown shirts of the elementary school.
Why don't you walk up to a transformer and start asking it what kind of life was bestowed to it by that white European, Benjamin Franklin. You want to talk slavery? The African Americans have nothing on the solitary conduit with an extensive breaker system. They are the true victims.
Have a copper hat, scout. Until you've walked in lightning's shoes for a mile, you're going to keep taking a 120 in the bathtub.