a little knowledge for all y'all
Here at PeterDeWolf.com I like to make you laugh. I like to make you think. I like to entertain. I like to show that despite being a grown-ass man, I am a bit girly at times, apparently.
And I like to educate.
I did a lot of research before starting this post.
I take these things very seriously.
There’s a little known annual tradition. And I hope that by explaining it’s origins to you, you’ll be more likely to take part in it next year, and for many years to come.
It began back when buffaloes roamed the plains. Or maybe it was bison. Probably both. And possibly some wild horses.
[Have you ever wondered where that “wild horses couldn’t drag me” saying comes from? I mean, how do they think they are going to get all these horses pulling in the same direction at the same time? THEY ARE WILD.]
A little known tribe of Native Americans was living and raising their children in Missoura.
Or, what we now call…
Like many other tribes, they had numerous nature-based gods.
They also warred with other tribes. Sometimes over petty reasons. For example, there was one bloody battle that began when a young man causally remarked, “That chick puts the “ass” in Assiniboine.”
It really was quite lovely. Like a ripe peach. I’ve seen paintings.
Every autumn, they had a feast and all-night celebration to pay tribute to the god of the forest — who they called… “Gordon.”
It started by finding the most attractive of all the tribe virgins.
At first they’d normally spot, and rule out, non-virgins by their overly tight deerskin outifts and the fact that they were smoking by the poop tree and wearing too much eagle-droppings mascara.
But, after a few class-action discrimination lawsuits, they decided that they should have a more scientific standard.
They began to use a young single warrior. He would have the sex with the woman. He was trained to feel if they were a virgin or not. If they felt a certain way, then they were a virgin. If they didn’t, then they weren’t. There wasn’t a high turnover rate for his job.
In either event, things would get a little awkward on the buffalo hunt afterward. She’d keep waiting for him to send her a smoke signal. He’d tell her he’d been busy planning a new face paint design for battle. “The white man is sending us some blankets. The chief wants me to go pick them up. I’m just trying to get ahead, you know. Focus on my career.”
Once a virgin was found, she was brought to the edge of the forest. She was given a parchment with a message to Gordon on it.
Since they had no written language of their own — and only knew English, French and a smattering of German, for some reason — their written communication was based on crude drawings.
On her parchment were illustrations of the following…
And this loosely translated to:
“Show yourself! Stop hiding in the woods and listening to us tell our stories about getting hopped up on tea made from strange roots and making out with any fur trader with kind eyes.”
And, of course, this annual tradition is what we now call…
(Yes, it was yesterday. I just don’t like following rules.)
So, hey, delurk!
But, I know it is awkward to comment without something to say. So….
I want to know two things:
1) What is the most embarrassing song on your current playlist? (Me — Wham’s “Careless Whisper.”)
2) What article of clothing do you love, but never want anyone to see you wearing in public? (Me — a purplish Club Monaco sweatshirt that is over a decade old. The collar and cuffs are full of holes and barely hanging on, and the tensile strength of the shirt itself is only slightly greater than that of a wet Kleenex.)
Regulars can answer too!