Posted by: Dr Churchill | October 14, 2016

Fvck Columbus

In the ancient tradition of humorous Friday posts at my diary — I hereby share one of these with you, hoping that none of you will be offended or come back calling me names. Please remain civilized and in good humour, or else….

Monday past, I spoke at a gathering of American Indian indigenous tribes in Seattle about their state of Being, while they were busy celebrating the new “Indigenous People’s Day” instead of the traditional “Columbus Day” holiday of these United States of America.

This change of naming the holiday precipitated ultra progressive Seattle that is part off the Soviet State of Western Washington that is at a state of permanent 100 year war with the Eastern Washington State — pretty much viewing each other like North Korea and South Korea. And apparently based on some history books Columbus discovered America when he had his Startup funded with venture capital from the King of Spain and his lovely Queen Isabella, and he pivoted West towards the Indies fully knowing from the ancient Greek Maps that eventually he will reach India, the land of spices, many tribes of people, ancient civilizations, and abundant fruits…

But somehow he messed up (or there is no naming justice) and this vast Continent was named instead America, after Americo Vespussi. Nobody knows what this Vespucci character ever did or why this land was named after him but he surely had something to do with riding a vespa through the streets of an Italian city. Or another tale has him being the nemesis of Donald Trump and his name was really American Vespussy — but let’s not dwell on these insignificant details, because we have a yarn to spin.

Now the ancient Greek navigational maps Christopher Colombo was using, were detailed enough and anatomically correct, about this spherical mass of rock hurling through space, and they also showed other land masses in between Spain and India when one was daft enough to be going westwards, but for Columbus to have to explain all that to the Royal Venture Capital sponsors of his “Go West Young Man” bravado — might have proven damaging to his amazing holiday cruise itinerary or his plans to visit and conquer remote lands — so he kept mum. He kept mum, in front of the Queen Mum and her male consort, the famous Donald Trump of his era King Ferdinand — a man so loved by women that he has reincarnated as The Donald in the 21st century.

Of course back in the day, Columbus and Ferdinand might have had a bit of locker room chat over Castillian sweet wine and smelly cheese, or they might have had a bit of silly banter, like a noble Navigator and Man of Maps and Seafaring knowledge might have had with the King, at the billiards room. And of course it would have revolved around women and pussies, since it is well known that the old King enjoyed some heavy petting, octopussy groping, and other extra curriculum activities and he had ample opportunity to indulge his freak with the local “beauty queens” in the ongoing beauty pageant and the never ending minstrel dance, that the court of Spain was known for.

As a matter of fact somebody in good ecclesiastical authority, told me that it was the Spanish royal court that first invented “pole dancing” and that the strip clubs of today ought to be paying royalties to them, since they’ve taken that innovation and have been running a mint with it, all over America today. Even the resurgence of pole dancing coinciding with the Orange King reincarnation as The Donald, is not accidental either. Conspiracy Theory anyone?

So clearly the Old Royal Court of Spain has to collect a little something from all these naked dancing girls of America today who go around frolicking in their skivvies and then tossing them at the faces of semi-civilized natives gawking at their vaginas, buttocks, mammary glands, and other appendixes of the female form of the Homo-species. These pole-dancing primates, with the over large … mammary glands that have evolved, in order to house their extraordinarily large brains, and their other extraordinary appendices, like their extraordinarily open legs and open minds — hold some incredible fascination for the male of the Homo-species today, and therefore we owe a debt to the Old Spanish Royals of Arragon and Castille.

Yet in my own fervent wish to open source all Innovations for the betterment of Humanity — I researched the subject and now come to the educated & informed position that “pole dancing” went Open Source some time ago, and specifically when the Spanish Court unleashed their famed Inquisition that made people dance on a burning pole, and not all of them to the sound of erotic music, or to some kind of rhythm, but to religious chanting.

Ohhh, those were the days.

Now that we solved the mystery of where pole dancing got started — let’s move back to the Northwest Indian cuisine. This might be confusing to some, but I must give you some background about the culinary skills these Seattle United Indians exhibit. Mario Battali eat your heart out, because these dudes are Master Chefs of world renown, and you can’t even hold a candle to them, so when You come back to Seattle, I’ll cook a big fish for you the way they do it, and we’ll see if you can handle it.

Meanwhile back in the jungle the Indians call a Salmon Potlatch, I observed the drumming the dancing and the cooking, of these “Noble Savages” who always know how to throw a salmon BBQ bake-out party. Indeed they do an excellent job, with marinating, pasting, and dressing the salmon-fish in a green coat of leafy matter to “protect” it from the fire as they got about laying it atop the charcoals and on wooden poles for the salmon to dance like a stripper dancing upon a pole in other parts of Seattle where people place gently dollar bills in folding paper money inside the crevices of her buttocks, breasts, and vagina supported by dental floss pretending to be underwear.

And although the Indians make the salmon-fish do this pole dancing routine, that they surely must know originated with Columbus, coming straight from the Court of the Spanish Royals to the New World — they also keep mum about it, and instead focus on making their salmon taste uniquely strange and bitter. Bitter in a good way, surely tasty and even delectable.
But Boy-Oh-Boy, when this “green” infused salmon fish goes inside of you, and hits the right spot, it rearranges your innards in a whole new way they were never meant to be rearranged as…

This salmon is explosive.

It is like Guy Fawkes cooked it in order to blow up the House of Parliament in Old England. Am still surprised this good Catholic boy didn’t stumble upon this technique for explosives and he had to rely upon gunpowder for his plot. But these Indians truly know their explosives because they slather this green paste made up of medical marijuana or something — upon the salmon fish, in some form of paste and then further apply whole bushes of stinking and stinging nettle onto the outside and even into the crevices inside the fish…

Now you know Marijuana is legal in Seattle and the local Indians use it freely mixed with copious amounts of Alcohol because they like this green and healthful cocktail, and after consuming plenty of this medicinal purposes mixed smoke and drink, traditional remedy against sobriety — they start cooking the fish for the Celebration of the Columbus Day. Apparently in their alcohol & weed induced haze, they forgot all about the Memo they no-doubt received the other day about the name change of the celebration, so they still cooked the same explosive salmon-fish because they still want to stick-it to the Man.

Now “Who the Man Is?” is a well guarded secret and a mystery to you and me but I suspect it might — just might — be one of the “Brave Men” but when I asked about it, they informed me stone faced, that the Man is the Burning Man… and we left it at that.

I couldn’t tell if the Stone Face of the indigenous Cook, was Stone because of the Stoner ingredients inside of him, or because of the solemn Noble Savage impassive & stony look of perseverance as obtained from the Alcohol content of the blood — but am sure, You get the idea…

Now the setting of Seattle is pivotal for this story of marijuana and the stinging nettle that the friendly natives use freely, because they all grow on their own in this fecund environment of the Pacific Northwest, where the constant rain keeps these medicinal and at times hallucinogenic plants scaling to gigantic proportions. And of course both the “Stoners Gold” marijuana and her sister plant the stinging nettle, are supposed to be used for medicinal purposes but in reality they are used in this sinister plot — no doubt conceived during a weed fueled Indian tribal war cabinet meeting, to be used wildly in order to bring down Western Civilization, and then kill off all the remaining Gringos and all the White Men, women, & children, regardless if they are Yankee or Spanish in origin, or even Japanese tourists trying to catch the flying fish in Seattle’s Pike place market.

So by turning these Cash-Crops from smoking to cooking, the Indian Braves reckon that it’s better to kill-off all of today’s Americans in order to open up the way for the Indians to get their country back, and make America Great Again — rather than allowing these upstarts the colonists make America Great Again as the Orange hued American Indian Chieftain “The Donald” the man who truly is King Ferdinand reincarnated all over again. That’s why The Donald Trump loves bling and gold and the harem of the court and that is why he proposes to make American Great Again, and he wants to start by killing some woman named Hilly who has really pissed him off, by groping her to death in his Octopussy ways…

So this genius plan of the Natives to get rid of all other Humans from America and revert to tribal warfare, and fratricidal conflict, stealing women and children, and everything in between — will go on.

And since the Indians are the only people on this Good Earth that have been accustomed to eating that poisonous green and healthy mix of intoxicants and weeds — they will surely carry off this devious and sinister plot without a hitch. The constant use of weed, alcohol, and stinging nettle, has allowed the native Indians to handle this killing and explosive mix with the Stoner face of antiquity that makes them look as if they are zonked out watching TV, but without the Telly in front of them, and certainly without the couch and the ottoman either.

It is an old custom that we have to reintroduce to all of the Americans if we are going to make America Great Again, and you better believe it.

Of course this story on this Friday of storm and hilarity, has nothing to borrow from The Real Donald Trump, who also has little appreciation of facial change beyond the five Noble Savage facial expressions that I will detail later on in this spagghetti ball story of Love and Mayhem. Or maybe a story of Ramen noodle history with Salmon-fish cooking. I use Salmon-fish in order to not offend Scottish Minister Mr Salmon who wouldn’t take kindly to me regaling the story of him being eaten by North American savages in a communal feast and thus I always use salmon-fish to protect the Indians from their cannibalistic tendencies…

But the secret of the Indians who eat copious amounts of Stinging nettles, smoke incredible amounts of marijuana, and drink bottles upon bottles of pure Alcohol and still manage to stand around stone faced and impassive — escapes me. Apparently they had to start doing these things early on in life, as little children, in order to become impervious to the narcotics and the alcohol that the Great Uncle Washington unleashed upon the minorities of this country, in order to destroy them. Just look at all the other minorities and you can see the conspiracy theory working. In addition to alcohol tobacco, marijuana, and firearms along with the motorcycles that replaced the horses, the Indian brave children had to eat massive doses of stinging nettles as a colon relaxer, so they can poop when they suffered from dyspepsia or constipation from eating too much fish, game or drinking more than plenty of alcohol — and thus they have developed tolerance for that particular poison too. But the poor Anglo-Americans who ate that stinking and stinging nettle powered fish, are fully massacred in this show of a massive “Potlatch” poisoning offered as a retribution to those bastards, that the local indigenous Indians consider the Occupiers of their ancestral lands.

So aside from the poisonous fish and the fly-bread, this Potlatch proceeded as expected. The bathrooms were all overcrowded so people took to the bushes and the forest surrounding the Daybreak center of the Native cultures and they gave a new meaning to the words the Call of Nature.

As a matter of fact the Call of Nature was followed by the Smell of Nature, yet this didn’t hamper the ceremony, not even when the bathrooms were all plugged up and the stench became overwhelming in the dancing and eating area. Many people attributed to the stinking nettle but it was far more than even that toxic plant caused. This was Hot Shit in all it’s poisonous and methane induced form emanating from all these bodies of people trying to hold down their food.

Now one can blame Columbus for it, but the poor Old Sod didn’t force the Indians to put Stinking Nettle on perfectly delectable Salmon and then to feed on modern day Seattle people five centuries later.

Nor did he say to anybody to celebrate Columbus day, or Indian day or stinking hot diarrhea day or whatever. As a matter of fact the Columbus Day was the day of American celebration that commemorated the “Discovery” of these lands by Europeans and the Progress that they brought with them. Good and Bad progress as it is always a mixed bag.

Who can blame the Europeans because the local Indians only wanted guns, horses and alcohol as the fruits of Civilization — and not the other more civilizing implements, the Spanish Conquistadors offered in spades?

Civilizing implements, such as slavery chains, religious instruction in a foreign language, pole dancing on top of a log fire if you didn’t take the foreign language instruction, religious torture sprinkled with confession of dreams, Sadomasochism and fetichistic activities between Masters and Subs, heavy role playing, played in the open, or all the other more affected displays of domination, like forced labor, coerced sexual activities, and the conquest of labor to work in gold and silver mining under duress and pain…

And then you tell me, the Spaniards are not weird.

What they did to the American Indians, and then their silly Armada expedition, along with the atrocities of Generallissimo Franco with his Nazi friends — make me a forever sworn enemy of tapas, flamenco, and triphasico. But I must confess I still like to watch the occasional bull fight in Pamplona better yet when the people are drunk and the bulls are sober and the later chase the former running wild in the streets where the bulls have license to gore anyone they catch…

But I digress, … and Times-Are-A-Changing. And so the Columbus Day has been changed in Seattle to Indigenous Peoples Day, and that is why the Call of Nature has permeated now the civilization hanging by a thread this special potlatch evening of stinking-stinging nettle infused poisonous salmon feast, taking place at Seattle’s most olfactory charged woodsy park overlooking the great Pacific ocean finger into the landmass — aptly named Puget Sound after another invader of the poor hapless and occasionally cannibalistic natives who no doubt have a field day today.

What with their new celebration, what with the White men Women and Children who were not prudent enough to have been eating stinging nettle for generation in order to develop tolerance for just such an occasion as this — they are all now puking and pooping all over the nearby woods in a riotous show of expectorating the poisonous salmon fish from both ends of the human body and leaving a brown rain trail behind them as they hastily make their way to the wagons to carry them home.

Apparently the Seattle people didn’t know what forces they had unleashed when their civic representatives including an Indian woman from the wrong Indian tribe from Mumbai or some other Indian tribe living around the Bay of Bengal, some distant way way West from here, came up with a vote on the subject to honor her namesakes, and the polite people could not refuse this little change — not knowing what forces they had unleashed. This change has certainly occurred because our openly Gay Mayor Mr Murray signed this new celebration into local city law, well before he tasted the stinking and really stinging nettle dressed salmon fish.

If the sequence of events was the other way around – am sure no change of celebration would have been forthcoming even by the passive aggressive and overly polite Seattleites, who would have otherwise declined further annual celebrations of poisonous salmon-fish.

But History is written in a non straight line, and so goes this narrative as a ball of spaghetti rather than a simple stinking fish tale.

Little did I know how much conformity and political correctness was expected from a Speaker like me, an obvious solemn realist amongst representatives of hundreds of Indian tribes from all areas of the United States and utopian ideologies of centuries past and conspiracy theorists of yore.

Still when the last prayer ceremony was held and the blessings arrived amidst much drumming and feathered people dancing — we had reached a crescendo and an obvious turning point towards truth. A local Indian writer who is named after the Military Tanks that gave us victory as the definitive war machines of the Second World War, and his last name is Alexie — spoke on behalf of all Indians and he pretty much summed up his speech with a sotto-voce “Fvck Columbus” slogan that seemed to capture the imagination of the Noble Savages. And then a few others followed, in a rising chorus echoing the Clarion Call to “Fvck Columbus” and some of them were nice little old ladies of the city council and from the girl scout cookies division, but all they had in mind was how to fvck Columbus.

I asked my girlfriend a blonde and buxom psychologist who told me that it was all probably a mass delusion in a manifestation of a subconscious id, displayed as a latent suppressed sexual desire to carry naughty relations with their parents, and it all was tantamount to mass hysteria and we best get the hel out of there before we are uncivilly molested and the only blonde heads in a sea of black headed natives with hate in their eyes for Colombo but who had clearly mistaken me for that Man.

So in short sequence we left to go to the woods and perform our own animal rights of the full moon, while inside the galleries the remaining Indians were all given a seagull feather, as a gift for their troubles.

Still those Brave Native and Noble Savages, who all together in unison confirmed that at this late time, still wanted to have sexual intercourse and improper relations with a historical person, residing in a tomb on the other side of the Atlantic for the last five centuries — is baffling to me.

Yet the influence of Medical Marijuana mixed with Alcohol & Stinging Nettle cannot be underestimated when is combined with a true Indian Potlatch aimed at extinguishing the White Man, Woman, and Children. The crowd was worked up to a frenzy that pushed people so much at the ends of their wits, that a tempest in a cup erupted amongst the organizers who saw my turn at the podium approaching and had a crisis of Consciousness — clearly knowing what to expect from an avowed Contrarian of the popular Political correctness that struggles any type of Discord or Liberty, amongst the pussy-wipped population of Seattle slaves to the needle, to the coffee, to the words, yet immune to the actual deeds.

Christoforo Colombo


We even had an over the top communist, hairy and unsexed, skinny with overlarge posterior Indian female from Mumbai, who was clearly excited by the drumming and the singing and the naked pole dancing of the Indian braves — who for some unknown reason of mental damaged left brain to right brain connection — got up to denounce me to the ear of the Indian organizers who then in another riotously funny turn of events — where the Indian MC organizer started acting as automaton played by a white puppet Master and she in turn was wound up, by her Indian from Mumbai female Dom master — all Hell broke loose.

That was when the Indigenous Indian MC in the funny weed hat told me: “Fvck Columbus” and then curtly informed me that I was bumbed-off from the Agenda of Speakers and there was to be No more space for me a White Anglo to speak, and that was that. That “Fvck Columbus” to me announcement came after I had already spoken to all the Indians present in the room and the environs thereabout, including the cooks and the cleaning staff, but when is whipped up to a froth like a Starbucks latte overcooked and over whipped like the usual Seattle pussy whipped variety of Native talent pulling barrista duty at the local coffee haunts.

In the ensuing melee I had not enough time to explain to the assembled Indian Braves, or to the Indians from here, from there, and from everywhere (including the subcontinental Indians from Mumbai or Bombay to you), that if they really wanted to have sexual relationships with this man — they had to go to three different places in two different continents and thus best they plan for a long reverse Columbus voyage. Am only offering this up as a Social Service announcement knowing how civic minded I am, so I beckon the Indian Braves to go back to Europe — to “Discover” the old Continent, to Conquer it, to Fvck Columbus, and then to come back and tell me how it all worked out for them.

And am only saying that because that is pretty much the only way they can hope to find Columbus’ mortal coil remains, and engage in “loving” relationships with the Man, in order to fulfill their Necrophiliac erotic wet dreams. The Indian Braves first have to buy some airplane tickets because to go visit Spain and stay a fortnight in Viladolid, then go off to Seville, and then go back to Santo Domingo, where they would have a whale of a time trying to cavort sexually with a Lighthouse…

Please don’t ask me “Why the Lighthouse?”

It is a stupid questions, because here is the answer: The old itinerant traveller Columbus continued traveling after his death as well, and due to a lot of posthumous travel, Columbus Explorer of the Americas, now rests in three different pieces, in three different places in two different continents. Three different sites claim to hold most of his earthly remains: The Seville Cathedral in Spain, and the Columbus Lighthouse at Santo Domingo in the Dominican Republic, and a little bit of Columbus remains in the Spanish city of Valladolid after dying there and getting buried in the cathedral’s yard back in the glory days of 1506. But if you were to ask me — I would say Don’t bother because if you tried having sexual intercourse with a hole in the ground as some Indians informed me that they often do for religious purposes, then you’ve had the experience and no need to repeat it with the dust that remains from the great Explorer. But if you are really keen to try it here is a clue of the first place you ought to get started:

Get to the Front steps of the Cathedral of Seville and mount his tomb…


Good Luck with this first step.

When, and if you complete this, please come back for the instructions to the next place.

I will swiftly send you by canoe to Santo Domingo, and then back to Spain after copious paddling to make love to Columbus grave in Valladolid.

And then for good measure I will give the Indian Braves further instruction and geography lessons to Columbus remains in order to help them uphold their common oath to “Fvck Columbus”

But best you have also a copy of Columbus posthumous travels to follow the journey up close and personal:

Columbus was buried in the Spanish city of Valladolid after dying there in 1506. His son, Diego, wasn’t satisfied with this arrangement, and had his father’s remains disinterred and sent to a monastery in Seville. There they stayed until 1542, when they were packed up and put on a boat bound for Santo Domingo in what is now the Dominican Republic. (The grand new Cathedral of Santa Maria la Menor had just been built in Santo Domingo, and it seemed a fitting location for Columbus’ remains.)

The cathedral, however, was far from Columbus’ final resting place. In 1795, when France ousted Spain from Hispaniola (the island now shared by Haiti and the Dominican Republic), Columbus’ remains were taken to Havana, Cuba. Following Cuba’s 1898 independence from Spain, Columbus ended up back in Andalusia, interred in an ornate tomb at Seville Cathedral.

If only the journey had ended there. Back in the Dominican Republic, a worker at the Cathedral of Santa Maria la Menor had discovered a box of bones marked “The illustrious and excellent man, Don Colon, Admiral of the Ocean Sea.” (“Colon” being the Spanish way of saying Columbus.) The implication of this find was that the Spanish had taken the wrong guy’s remains back to Seville and left Columbus, the “illustrious and excellent man,” in Santo Domingo. But there was a catch: Diego, Columbus’ son, was also known as Don Colon, Admiral of the Sea. Those remains could have been his—or even someone else’s, placed in the wrong box.

I am always ready to instruct the young and the foolish, so here is how I spent my Monday evening in the wild and smelly woods around the Indian Daybreak center of Discovery park of Seattle, and I highly recommend to the Japanese tourists to go give that place a try if they really want to see fish flying…

Ahh and I even had a fun time talking about the real natives of the Americas the pre-Indians who were the likes of the Kennewick Man who surprisingly looks Japans or European depending on your point of view, but for my eyes He looks more like The Donald with the orange glow than any Indian I’ve seen here about.

So maybe we should vote for the Kennewick Man to make American Great again before the Indians came over from Mumbai or someplace East and ruined it all…
I’ll put my proposal to The Donald when he becomes President and see what comes of it.

Am sure it’s all gonna be fine.

I simply don’t see that anything could go wrong with this plan.

What do you think?


Unless you try to hump the Columbus lighthouse in Santo Domingo, that is.

This things is massive….

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: