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During its annual fashion show, Victoria’s Secret had one of their models wear an Indian headdress, and the company was quickly condemned and criticized for being insensitive to Native American “culture.”

I don’t have specifics, but I have a hunch some blonde Elizabeth Warren look-a-like claimed her fake Indian heritage gave her a cultural mandate to go on the old Facebook warpath. Using the Great Father’s technology, she was quickly able to manufacture outrage and rally braves and squaws from Kennebunkport to the Irish Riviera to fight this horrible injustice.

Realizing that the fat cows who stuff themselves into the company’s lingerie may get offended by this non-issue, Victoria’s Secret quickly issued a press release and begged for forgiveness. They also promised not to use the “offensive” image in any of their advertisements and to cut it from the televised version of the show.

My question is, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

I’m sick and tired of this kind of political correct nonsense, and where’s it going to end? When I was a kid, I absolutely loved playing cowboys and Indians, and some of my best childhood memories came from that simple game.

I lived just down the road from the Mattaponi Indian Reservation, and while they were sleeping and/or drunk, I would sneak through the rusty old fence that ringed their property and steal their livestock and loot the food from their little commissary. When I got chicken pox I even rubbed my scabs all over the blankets on their clothes’ lines.

I was like a white ghost, and to this day they speak of the strange creature that terrorized their lands through much of the 1980s.

As my son gets older, I just hope he has an opportunity to enjoy this great tradition, and it’s not taken from him by liberal agitators and left-wing propagandists.