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Pseudo Sioux

We fell for it. We all should have caught on quicker, but didn't.

We, too, got caught up in the excitement of a potential boost to the local economy when the Artsonasocal band of the local Shemp-Pa-Queeg Native American Indian tribe announced their intentions of opening a casino on Slap Happy Reservation just up river from the Tornado Alley Nuclear Power Plant.

We, too, believed Chief Greasy Eagle when he powwowed with a broadly smiling City Council, painted a vision of a new happy hunting ground for his people, who would be armed with slot machines, dealing shoes, roulette wheels and casino chips instead of bows, arrows and tomahawks, then held out his hand -- palm up.

We, too, turned a deaf ear, at the a growing number of Shemp-Pa-Queeg complaints, when the tribal expulsions of dead members began a domino effect, kicking out scores of descendents and eliminating well over half of the people who might have been eligible to share in gambling profits.

We, too, were puzzled when the U.S. Bureau of Interior Affairs, which provides recognition status on Indian tribes, denied the Artsonasocal's petition.

Then Chief Greasy Eagle went back to his regular job as a "plumbing contractor" in the Little Italy section of New York City, his wickiup piled high with our wampum, leaving us to play a little game of word jumble in the newsroom and discover: Artsonasocal = La Cosa Nostra.

And so, it appears, the moccasin is on the other foot: Sand Creek, Washita River, Wounded Knee and, now, Mudcat Falls.



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