Click on this map to enlarge it and see the indigenous tribes of Maine.
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I'm interested in finding the significance of Cadillac Mountain on Mount Desert Island to the Passamaquoddy Tribe of Maine and NewBrunswick.
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You might be intrested in knowin that I myself and a "section" chief of the Stenchatoomas branch of the Cherokee nation. Yessiree, have the pelt from the Elders on my 60" big screen to prove it. See, I was a wandering through the holler one November morning, had been unrightly removed from the local football team for alleged hygiene malappropriateness, someting about stinkin of mule dung, anyhow, wandering I was, in my mind and in them woods back of the cabin, back of the washin' pond, thinkin on how I was gonna get that mule to back up to the stump for a proper buggerin', when my eyes set upon the loveliest sight, an injun princess, adrinkin from the stream that ran from the washin pond where we washed them mules. She had the grace of an elk, fillin' up on water that cool mornin. As I approached her, she drew back in fear, and raised he nose to the air to catch my scent. She smiled, I smiled and offered her a hand up from her postion. This was quite classy of me you see, as most would have tried to mount her not givin a thought to common decency and the codes of chivalric behavin. I was all nervous, taken in by her flat nose and legs stronger than the biggest lineman 'Bama ever fielded. I says hullo, and she thinks I am devine, naturally. So we gets to talking, her name being Oozan Rottin Keracccha, Said real slow like. We got to ruttin around, until pappy came down, all crazy with his jug and his overalls unslung, lookin for some cunny. I says no siree, she's mine, defending her all the while. She run and and pappy raised his squirrel gun, but fell into the shit streamin creak on account of him bein all likkered up. Well, word of my bravery spread like crabs in a tinpan whorehouse, and, there you have it. Chief Tuna Lips. Gotta run now, voices in my head.
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