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Uncle Bubba’s Courtesan Winter Relief Program

Uncle Bubba’s Courtesan Winter Relief Program


A mistress home alone on Christmas Day is a terrible thing!

It is the hazard of their lifestyle choice that few young women consider.  It begins in the time when they have all the freedom of an adult, but their hormones are flowing like that of a teenager.  They get involved with a wealthy, married man.  Perhaps she is a student intern for the famous US Senator, Beauregard T. Cornpone.   Discrete association with him in hidden places or that favorite little restaurant and inn near Winchester, VA is rewarded by being placed in glamorous events that college boys can’t provide. Glamorous, exciting weeks turn into glamorous, exciting months and maybe two or three glamorous years . . . but then the years of being alone on her birthday, if it falls on a weekend, or definitely Thanksgiving and Christmas, takes its toll.

Sooner or later, the not-so-young woman sees her first gray hair and then realizes that she has given up her life, her right to bear children, for a man who will always consider her the R & R , which is due him because of his achievements and wealth.   She thinks back, time to time about all the young men, who she pretended to date in order to cover up an affair.  At least in her mind, it is too late to do anything about her trap.  She is past 40 now and her married man has already having dalliances with young women the same age that she was when making the foolish assumption that he would leave his wife and children for her.

This trap happens over and over again in environments that intelligent, attractive young women are attracted to.    My dear friend, Deena Flowers, was a therapist at the US Department of State during the 1980s.  One of the Department of State’s most respected administrators came to her after attempting suicide.   Twenty years earlier, at age 19, she had been a summer intern with a young congressman from a wealthy family.  After their initial fling, he persuaded her to change colleges so she could remain in Washington.  He paid the tuition. She told her family that she had been awarded a scholarship.  The endless strings of lies began.  He paid for post-graduate degree from New York City’s most prestigious university, when he became Ambassador to the United Nations.  She returned to an important position in the Department of State when he returned to Washington. As always, he paid for a luxury townhouse in a discrete neighborhood of Alexandria, VA.  When he became Vice President, she saw much less of him, but with his enormous, seemingly occult power, he would arrange for her to be assigned to be in situations, where they could be alone together and only the Secret Service would know. 

Then . . . he decided to run for President.  The day before he was to make that announcement some men-in-black came to her office and told her to join them for dinner.  She was told that if she expected to stay alive, she would never contact him again or hear from him again.  She was ordered to resign her prestigious career job with the State Department and leave the country as soon as her townhouse sold.  She was given a large sum of money to make the transition.  Nevertheless, at age 41 she had been dumped into the Sea of Anonymity without even a thank you.

Deena did the best she could to help the mental health of the woman under circumstances, but there were scars that would never heal.  Soon the townhouse in Alexandria sold and her patient was informed that an apartment and monthly allowance in Paris had been arranged.  Her ex-lover was elected President.  She continued to be silent and keep her part of the deal.   However, she disappeared from her apartment late one night just before the Presidential inauguration. The security video cameras in the apartment building had been mysteriously disconnected so no one saw the circumstances of her departure from the apartment without her pocketbook or car keys.  She was never seen again and the French Securite’ made no effort to find her . . .  or her body.  Deena died a few years later of cancer.

Young women, it is not a matter of age difference.  My grandmother’s mother was 28 and my great-grandfather was 78 when they married.  They had a happy, loving marriage for the next 24 years.  However,  a man who cheats on his wife and then is unwilling to make a public commitment to the “other women” is no better that the slave owner at a plantation.  There is only one way the story is going to end.  The “other woman” will have a portion of her life stolen from her and most likely get very, very hurt. Think before you leap!  Christmas is a good time to remind yourself of that warning.


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Richard Thornton is a professional architect, city planner, author and museum exhibit designer-builder. He is today considered one of the nation’s leading experts on the Southeastern Indians. However, that was not always the case. While at Georgia Tech Richard was the first winner of the Barrett Fellowship, which enabled him to study Mesoamerican architecture and culture in Mexico under the auspices of the Institutio Nacional de Antropoligia e Historia. Dr. Roman Piňa-Chan, the famous archaeologist and director of the Museo Nacional de Antropologia, was his fellowship coordinator. For decades afterward, he lectured at universities and professional societies around the Southeast on Mesoamerican architecture, while knowing very little about his own Creek heritage. Then he was hired to carry out projects for the Muscogee-Creek Nation in Oklahoma. The rest is history. Richard is the Tribal Historic Preservation Officer for the KVWETV (Coweta) Creek Tribe and a member of the Perdido Bay Creek Tribe. In 2009 he was the architect for Oklahoma’s Trail of Tears Memorial at Council Oak Park in Tulsa. He is the president of the Apalache Foundation, which is sponsoring research into the advanced indigenous societies of the Lower Southeast.



    Did someone hack this blog?

    • This is not a blog site. It is a Native American educational and research website. Hacking . . . Not to my knowledge . . . at least not today. I am a Creek Elder, Keeper of the Wind Clan and just named Principal Chief of the Coweta Creek Tribe. It is our tradition and duty to guide the young people, so they will not make mistakes that cannot be repaired.


        I’m well aware of who you are. It’s why I read every single word you write and watch every single video you create. You have done more to educate me on my ancestral heritage than almost all other resources combined. I just wasn’t able to make the connection between this article and the other information you provide. Thank you for “setting me straight.” I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. I was just genuinely confused. . . .

        • We have had a wide variety of articles over the past 14 years. Initially, most did not deal with archaeology.


    I was offered such a position once. Thank God I turned it down. I also have a novel I’m pitching (with my agent) about the sex trafficking of African American women in New Orleans in the early 1800s. From Wikipedia:
    The plaçage system developed from the predominance of men among early colonial populations, who took women as consorts from Native Americans, and current free women of color that came to America from places such as Saint-Domingue and some enslaved Africans. Adding to what was known as free people of color in Louisiana, and especially New Orleans, during the colonial years, from whom wealthy men would choose. In this period there was a shortage of European women, as the colonies were dominated in the early day by male explorers and colonists. Given the harsh conditions in Louisiana, persuading women to follow the men was not easy. France recruited willing farm- and city-dwelling women, known as casket or casquette girls, because they brought all their possessions to the colonies in a small trunk or casket. France also sent women convicted along with their debtor husbands, and in 1719, deported 209 women felons “who were of a character to be sent to the French settlement in Louisiana.”[4] (France also relocated young women orphans known as King’s Daughters (French: filles du roi) to their colonies for marriage: to both Canada and Louisiana.)

    Now me: they would hold Placage balls where the French Creole men would come to shop. And placage’s daughters were groomed to follow in her mother’s footsteps because it was the best way to have security.

    My novel is about a Melungeon girl from Sneedsville, TN who is trafficked by a gambler.

    I could rattle on and on all day about how women have been used as chattel.

    • Yes, they have. That is not the Creek Way, though.


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