A New Old Nation

I saw over at Nine Pearlsthat the Lakota Sioux have declared themselves a sovereign nation and it’s the kind of news that sparks a person’s imagination.

I was caught up in imagining what it would be like to all of a sudden find yourself negotiating trade agreements and diplomatic ties with other countries and all the stuff that will come if they can pull this off (it’s hard for me to imagine the federal government letting this happen, but one never knows).

But it just occurred to me–though I’m sure others must know this, too–this is a crucial moment for the women of Pretty Bird Woman House and other crime victims as well.  A sovereign nation wouldn’t have to use our police to investigate crimes.  Their own police force would investigate all crimes within their borders.

Right now, the situation is a nightmare:

Tribal and federal authorities have concurrent jurisdiction on all Standing Rock Sioux Reservation lands over crimes where the suspected perpetrator is American Indian. In instances in which the suspected perpetrator is non-Indian, federal officials have exclusive jurisdiction. Neither North nor South Dakota state police have jurisdiction over sexual violence against Native American women on the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation. State police do, however, have jurisdiction over crimes of sexual violence committed on tribal land in instances where the victim and the perpetrator are both non-Indian.

But, like I said, a sovereign nation makes its own laws and has its own police force and non-citizens are not protected by these giant loopholes.

So, let’s keep our fingers crossed that, whatever happens, this will mean a change for the better for the Lakota people and, in the meantime, throw some money at Pretty Bird Woman House.

The Prototype

I made a prototype for the Reconquista–First Wave shirt, because it makes me laugh. I think that, if Mack actually designed one and brought the price down (I mean, in real life, who’s paying thirteen bucks for baby clothes?), he could make enough money to… I don’t know… take me out drinking or something.

It occurs to me that some of you might be sitting there at your computer thinking, “What’s so funny about the Battle of Covadonga or the conquest of Granada?”

But folks, no, come with me into the land of illegal immigrant hysteria, where people showing ethnic pride and protesting their inhumane treatment are treated as if they are seriously a part of some secret Mexican conspiracy to come to this country, take all of our jobs, and then retake the Southwest in the name of Mexico.

Now, how this will be accomplished, in part, from Tennessee is unclear.  Maybe the conspiracy theory is that Mexicans will take over the whole U.S. as a bargaining chip and, in exchange for the Southwest, they will… um…

Well, who knows?  Perhaps give the rest of the country to Al-Walid ibn Abd al-Malik or his heirs?  I don’t know.  It’s all very confusing, but clearly it has something to do with terrorism and destroying Our Way of Life.

See Malkin and Tiny Pasture.

Blah Ditty Blah Blah Blah

I have a headache, which, three Advil later, still has not budged.  I haven’t yet witnessed any cat peeing, but I’m trying to be vigilant.

I’m spending the whole middle of my day in the car, so I’m going to dip into The Jam and the Prodigals.  I’ll let you know what I think.

I had dinner with the Professor last night, which turned into a four hour gab fest.  I always feel stupid when I see her for not making an effort to see her more frequently.

This part of the holidays I’m enjoying.  I saw the Professor last night.  I have a winter solstice gathering tomorrow night.  And Sunday I’m going to see Dr. J and Plimco.  And, since the folks don’t get here until Tuesday, I’ll have Monday all to myself.

Yes, to clean, but still…

One of the things that the Professor and I were talking about is how we measure victory, especially in terms of feminist goals.  I don’t know, myself.  I just sometimes wonder if we’re not dumping water on spots where we have memories of bad fires and not seeing new flare-ups.

Anyway, lots to think about.

Funny v. Unfunny

Okay, America, I have to ask you a question so dumb it might result in some of you leaving Tiny Cat Pants in disgust and never coming back, but here goes:

Is it not painfully obvious that, while LOLcats are hilarious, LOLdogs are stupid?