For the record, I’m pretty sure I was the first person in the media to demand that Sen. Elizabeth Warren take a DNA test.
Here’s a column of mine from April 18, 2014, which began:
“There is only one way to settle once and for all the question of whether the fake Indian is or is not a real Indian. She needs to take a DNA test.”
I know I was talking about DNA tests much earlier than that, but that was apparently just on my radio show.
Anyway, this is what I wrote in the Herald last November:
“Why has she refused my multiple generous offers to pay for her DNA test?”
So the fake Indian has been totally stonewalling me on taking a DNA test since probably 2012, and now she’s stonewalling the alt-left media here in Massachusetts that’s finally chiming in on the subject, better late than never.
But I’m through waiting for the fake Indian, although I think we all believe, as the Berkshire Eagle suggested, that she probably already has taken the test, and, uh, not gotten the results she was hoping for. So I’ve ordered DNA test kits for myself and my two radio producers. If the fake Indian wants one too, it’s not too late. I’ll have one overnighted.
Fake Indian, both of us can take the test together at the cheese shop of your choosing in Harvard Square.
Actually, though, I have a backup plan to get a sample of her DNA, but it will involve some sneaky stuff, which I’ve tried before. In 2012, when she was running against Scott Brown, one of my guys tricked her into autographing a copy of “Pow Wow Chow” (the cookbook where she plagiarized her “Indian” recipes from a French chef who worked for the New York Times).
She was campaigning in Kelley Square in Worcester when my man handed her the cook book and a pen. Before she realized she was being pranked, Fauxchontas pulled the cap off the pen – with her teeth.
I sent the pen off to the DNA company, but alas, there wasn’t enough saliva for a test.
But Sunday, I assume the senior senator will be at Halitosis Hall for the annual St. Patrick’s Day time. It is an election year, after all. She will be at the head table, no doubt, so if someone could grab her water glass….
Still, I’d prefer to go one-on-one with her in a DNA test, even though I’m pretty sure I have zero Native-American heritage. The fact is, she has blue eyes and blonde hair, and I have neither, so I’m guessing that as remote as my chances of winning the casino lottery are, they are still much better than hers.
By the way, the fake Indian is fortunate that she’s working this grift now, and not a century ago.
Does the name William Henry “Lone Star” Dietz ring a bell? Probably not. He was one of the first coaches of the Boston Redskins, the NFL franchise now in Washington.
During World War I, when the military draft was imposed, there was a classification known as “Non-Citizen Indian.” If you registered as an Indian, you were exempt from the draft. Do you see where I’m going with this?
Anyway, Lone Star Dietz, a white man, decided that, like the fake Indian of today, he knew who he was, and what he was, was ineligible to be drafted into the trenches in the War to End All Wars.
The FBI, however, thought otherwise, and Lone Star was indicted in 1919. At his first trial, in Spokane, the judge told the jury to consider whether Dietz “believed” himself to be an Indian, just as the fake Indian now claims she believes, despite even less evidence than Lone Star presented in his own defense.
Lone Star got a hung jury in his first trial, but he was convicted the second time, and he served a month in federal prison before resuming his gridiron career as coach of the Redskins.
The lesson here for today’s fake Indian is, the situation your forked tongue has gotten you into is pretty embarrassing, but it could be worse. You could be looking at hard time in Danbury, or Morganton.
One last thing Senator — do you mind if we start calling you “Lone Star?”