Trading Cards? Or Trading Faith
Through history we have seen numerous historical figures gracefully step on and off the figurative podium of time, today we will witness this ritual one more time. In this essay we will go through in detail and inform or even at times exploit information of these at often times rebellious statures, and glorify their reign as champions of our past. In our historical study we strive for truth and the meaning of historical existence. As I compose this essay, and tear after tears trickle down my wind-burned face I have come to realize how important George Washington, Joseph Brant, and Moodie are to our present day as well as nationality and culture.
To save paper and our dying world I will limit the characters I use, I will no longer refer to Joseph Brant as himself, his new name, “Peaceright.”
“Peaceright” fought the serpent-like British since his pubescent era of life, approximately at the age of 15. Was he brave? Yes, but even brave men cry, as he did, when he found himself on the losing end in 1783. After losing the war of 1783 his world and ego was belittled like Madonna after her box office flop, “Swept Away.” It wasn’t that he did not put any effort into the war or hid in nearby streams, infact he led a combined Mohawk and white force against the Americans and their natives allies. Gaining wealth, taking land, the English had no morals, the Paris Peace Treaty may have kept them away from the French but the aboriginals were in utter disarray. “Peaceright’s” once most cherished ally, Britain, gained more land, but lost a friend, “Peaceright” would never be the same. In the heat of his anger he blew a hot steaming breath of hate and created a confederacy to resist the terms of the peace settlement. Once again our historical friend “Peaceright” failed when trying to forge a confederacy to resist the terms of the peace settlement. He could do nothing but fail in life when all that “Peaceright” wanted to do was grow arms of joy and hug everyone,”Humiliation was the key to depression and “Peaceright” opened a lot of doors.” Majestic and elegantly he floats upon a governed historical plateau which is unreachable by any historical figure before his time.
Dollar bills and Virginia hills, two profound places George Washington rests within time. If the saying “Virginia is for lovers” is true, then George Washington is the cupid of his time. He started it all, being America’s first president, he set the stage for men who would become in one time of their lives the most powerful men on our planet.
His reputation glistened like the reflection of his handsome face in a stream of unspeakable beauty. It started in a beautiful home, beautiful family, beautiful life, but beauty is never what we perceive it to be, we can see shapes and forms but rarely do we see the truth, the truth, he lived in Westmoreland County, Virginia. We see the love and hate, but like an eclipse the truth continues to hide. Little faceless innocent George, never hurt a fly, well why not ask the people who lived in the French diplomatic party near Fort Duquesne, the village he attacked, he may be handsome, but true beauty has its own extent. The French didn’t look too appealing with their heads mounted on sticks, nor could they see George Washington’s beauty through the blood that filled their gauged eyes. These grey shadows that haunted Mr. Washington’s life did not stop his claim to fame and his sick perverted fetish for war, gore, or blood, he successfully won the revolution and found his unquestionable spot as the leader of the “free” nation. If persecuting racial minorities wasn’t enough, he also persuaded them to become his slaves. He was known to mock them and imitate the way they spoke and even the way they walked. His slaves began to put bells on their doors due to the fact that George constantly woke them with freezing water from Lake Washington, and then hollering obscenities in their faces and making lewd gestures. Blissful, blossom, withered souls, George, “Mr. Democracy” can go live his life in a rotting canoe in the middle of the Atlantic for all I care, just stay out of my life, I’m done writing about this farce of a president. I’m so angry, the only way I’m able to express is through my eloquently written essays. I apologize if the reader’s offended, feathers.
During days of grief, people can paint portraits that don’t resemble our thoughts, but our feelings at the present time, though we don’t mean to be happy or sad, it’s best not to write about them. Moodie was one of many countless victims who suffered this same fate, now she’s referred to as a leech.
Following Moodie’s career for some time now, I can tell you it’s not as innocent as led to believe, she has little or no respect for anyone’s feelings, or even their lives. Being the offspring for Canadian writers and poets, it surprised me find out how little respect she had for the settlers of our great nation, in her works she would act as if she owned the country and that her princess ring formed a permanent hex upon our nations members. To own a man, own a country, treat the man as if his feelings were an object, and toy with them, Moodie’s sketches revealed more about her than our ancestors, her portrait of immigrant life turned out to be a self portrait of shame. Although we seem to think that this poet should not have had such an effect on our countries youth, it was somewhat naive, her spirit lives on throughout the students of Susanna Moodie Elementary School, also known as one of the lowest ranking schools in all of Canada, some may say it’s just coincidence, but when coincidence bleeds of repetitive mistakes, isn’t it now just wrong. Even if we see her as a public shame and a nation wide joke, we’re taught to respect our heritage and understand one another, fortunately George Washington isn’t our heritage, so I won’t apologize to his face, but Moodie, I understand.
Now that we understand one another we can bask in our friendship that is the sun, forgive me not but remember, we are one the same.
To conclude and end, tears are wasteful, although brilliantly understood. I have given birth to an essay and a culture, our children will understand nothing unless they read this, so to keep the faith, keep our spirits advancing to the ultimate theories of tomorrow, I should replicate this documents unto others, such as Blake, Kyle, Emily, and so on, I now crawl into the ball that is my life.
