Mornings With Drowsy Douche: Native Americans

Why do I wake up most mornings with a fucking headache? Who needs this shit? Why can't I just be a pulsating brain with eyes, ears, and a single hand? That's all I want. Fuck a penis. Fuck a torso. Fuck a tongue and a nose. Why must I be a prisoner to this supple, attractive body with all the hairy fixins? Bluh.




It's 11 degrees outside, and it's supposed to get colder as the day wears on. On Thursday, the high is supposed to be -2. I wonder how Native Americans managed to survive through the brutal winters in the Black Hills of South Dakota. Physically and mentally, it must have been way worse than anything we've experienced. Maybe they found refuge in caves underneath the mountains and told ghost stories to entertain each other. A cave is very conducive for scares. Or maybe they held yo mama joke competitions...

"Your mama smells like that of a horse, and possesses hair like that of a buffalo." SNAP!

"How would you know, Chief Choking Beef? Unless you have made corn squeezins with my mother in the tepee of urges. In which case, you are my father, and I honor you." ...Snap?