We don't give a damn how they do it OUTSIDE.

...

Chief Jimmy John watching 4 caribou near Arctic Village.

Be respectful and do not ask him for a sandwich.


I have a sneaking suspicion that Chief Jimmy John does not suffer fools gladly.



 


Overindulgence in artificial stimulants have an amazing ability to make stupid stuff seem eminently reasonable.



Most likely, only boredom was involved. And a general lack of respect for others.
 
Just how big would the beast have been to support those?

Are they even real? or is the guy standing far back?

Ding, ding, ding......

We have a winner!

Oh, I'd guess that moose to be about 700# dressed out. No hide, head or hooves.
 


Bars In Alaska

https://rosebyanyothernameblog.files.wordpress.com/2018/09/sitka-new.png?w=700

by Willis Eschenbach


My first encounter with a bar in Alaska was when I went there in 1965 at age eighteen to make my fortune … riiight.

Along the way to not making my fortune in Alaska, I got my first job playing with a bar band. Of course, I was too young to drink and it was illegal for me to be in the bar at all, but nobody seemed to care … so why should I?

In Sitka, I got a gig as the rhythm guitarist and lead singer, complete with electric guitar, in a bar band which was usually composed entirely of what used to be called “Indians”. Columbus wanted to believe he’d gotten to India, so he called the locals “Indians”. This led to centuries of confusion, where people had to continually be asking “You mean Indian with a dot or Indian with a feather?” So they decided to change their name. Fair enough. Here’s what the Sitka turf looks like …

It’s not politically correct to call them Indians now, I know. These days, I’m a reformed cowboy, so I use a more modern name which reflects their actual heritage. I call them “Early Asian Immigrants”, to distinguish them from the “Later Melanin-Deficient Immigrants”. I don’t generally use the term “Native Americans”, though, unless a man insists on it. According to science, they’re no more native to the Americas than any human is, and that’s not native at all.

To maintain the historical accuracy, however, I’ll use the terms of the era. The guys called themselves Indians the first time I met them. It was early one evening. They were playing in a roadside dance hall bar in Sitka. The conversation opened with something like me saying “Where’re you guys from”, and them saying “We’re Indians. Sitka tribe.” Good enough for me. They had a lead guitar, bass guitar, and drums. They were on a break. I bought them a drink. I told them I liked their music. I said I was a musician. They had a spare electric guitar, we played a few tunes, we had fun... At that time the best bar in town was at the strangest combination bar and whorehouse I’ve ever seen. Not that I’ve seen many, buying sex always seemed creepy to me. But this one was in a class all its own.




much more...


 
Back
Top