the real origin of native american casinos

Revenge of the Pawntikit

Many moons ago, across the great plains of what is now the Western United States, the proud Pawntikit tribe lived in harmony with nature, hunting, grazing, haggling and rummaging for sustenance. At new moon, the fields were planted and the young squaws, draped in thin diaphanous corn silk robes, danced the hokipoki to bring rain. As the rain fell, rendering their robes transparent, the young braves gathered around to watch with their totem poles standing tall. They encouraged the squaws by stuffing wampum beads into their skimpy corn silk loin cloths. We call it maize, you call it corn... the braves called it porn. Even Leering Wolf, Pawntikit Chief, was always present to oversee the dancing of the hokipoki and contribute a few wampum beads of his own. It was a resplendent time of abundance and fertility for the Pawntikit and neighboring tribes.

Until one fateful year, when the rain dance went too long, it brought torrential floods that ravaged the plains, devastating the crops and weakening these nobel but libidiously overzealous people both physically and spiritually to such a degree that, when the white-devil arrived, conquering them was as easy as taking pemmekin from a papoose. Thus was the demise of the once mighty warriors of the Papaweelee, Weebad, Kantuchdiss and the Pawntikit tribes. Until three brave and heavily-spirited souls had a vision of hope for the red man.

[Many Moons Later, Like, a lot of 'em, on some trashy reservation]
Leering Wolf Jr.: Fug this shit!

Loaded Bull: No thanks, I'll pass.

Leering Wolf Jr.: Brothers, I thought of a way to recover some of what has been taken from our people.

Thunder Bird: How?

Loaded Bull: Yeah, how Kimosabi?

Leering Wolf Jr.: We'll never get anywhere weaving baskets and making clay trinkets, we need to create a place where pale-face will go and spend some real money.

Thunder Bird: A tanning salon?.

Loaded Bull: I guess it wouldn't make much sense to pimp off our women...

Thunder Bird: How about a pillage sale?...No, I'm fresh out.

Loaded Bull: Yeah, I haven't the vagueist...

Leering Wolf Jr.: That's it! Vegas! And what do they have in Vegas?

Thunder Bird: But what do we want with Tom Jones?

Leering Wolf Jr.: No, casinos! We build a gambling casino.

Thunder Bird: Ooh, gambling. Isn't that kind of risky?

Loaded Bull: You know the white devils are all morons, we just rig all the tables.

Thunder Bird: I don't know about that, we used every part of that buffalo and we never found any wings?

Leering Wolf Jr.: They made us reservations, now they'll need reservations.

Thunder Bird: Seems like an odd way to get even, make a moron go to a casino.

Leering Wolf Jr.: That's it, we call it "CASINO MORON-GO" and we get some hot young squaws wearing tiny deerskin butt flaps to serve drinks ... Like these two right here...

Flashing Beaver: How, guys.

Lap Dancing: How goes it?

Leering Wolf Jr.: How would you ladies like to get rich?

...And thus was the start of legal gambling casinos in California...

Casino Morongo! “It RE-pays to play!”