dear humans, from; Ross Dickie Pierro

when i was young, kids used to still play a game called “cowboys and Indians” when I was a kid. It was essentially “cops and robbers” or different variations, but either way, the pigs who first named it were obviously pink European swine, not American wild boar.

Cops and robbers, cowboys and indians or that middle picture.

Teach your kids how to play, or they repeat the same atrocities they have seen in life and history books and are taught to them incorrectly. They will believe they must play an obligated role based on some concieved predetermined birthright or ones curse in life can be their own father’s inescapable surdom. But that’s called feudalism, and in America, we won’t be moved from a Democratic Republic of States over to that system for at least a few more weeks from the time I write this.

The lone ranger was a hero to me when I was a little little boy. I remember that I liked his cool outfit, his mask. I liked His shiny gun and his trusty horse silver. But he also had a loyal partner and sidekick Tonto, the stoic Native American who saved the day so many times in the stories and offered such wisdom in the narrative. He called the Lone Ranger “Kemosabe, meaning Loyal Friend, because the ranger was the Only white man allowed and trusted in Indian land.

That last part was important.

The Lone Ranger was based on a real man named Bass Reeves, who lived in the 1,800s who was a freeded slave turned Texas Marshall.

Teach your kids the truth, history and morality then sit back and watch them play. Change the narrative. Flip the script. Maybe the Lone Ranger will be back someday. Maybe his story will be true as true and divine as the subplot, and we will see him as a black man. Maybe not, who knows?

I know the story of Bass Reeves spread and known further now, and his true story is being told. I think that’s really great. He deserves his truth and heroism told.

None the less, I hope we all see the beauty of Tonto in the Lone ranger stories and remember that generations of children like me didn’t buy the metric ton of bullshit saying that our own pale face made it ok for a grown up to throw rocks at people with darker faces. That wasn’t for me.

So, let’s saddle up Kemosabe.

Silver is pulled up to the door, Romulus and Remus are ready to go home, it’s 106 miles to Chicago, full tank of gas, we got a half a pack of cigarettes it’s dark and we are wearing sunglasses.

Hit it.

The sunset is our destination.