So, I may or may not have been crying like a baby in the middle of the campus quad reading the last chapter of Jim’s biography.
I read the last chapter first to get the sobbing out of the way. Then I wept again when I got to it again after reading the rest of the book.
You cannot say that you like Pocahontas. The genocide of my people is turned into a cartoon musical? With a singing raccoon? I mean, think about it, Dog. The real story of Pocahontas is about a bunch of white boys who come to my land, bribe the corrupt Indian chief, kill off all the warriors and fuck the Indian princess silly. Would the white man make a story about Auschwitz, where the inmate falls in love with the guard and they go off singing love songs with dancing swastikas?
A good summary of why I’ve always refused to watch Pocahontas.