Well, Churchill’s more or less given up his role as ndn and propagandist emeritus for AIM, hasn’t even claimed to be of the nations lately.
This probably due in part to the smack down he received at UCB and the passing of bud Russell Means, which was the only real access he had to AIM – kind of a symbiotic relationship with Means where they both used each other.
Ward’s blood quantum claim is as open to question as is his claim that he was a paratrooper and LRRP (long range recon) in Vietnam when in actuality he was a projectionist and truck driver.
Churchill still drones on about the “little Eichmans” but that’s to be expected as it’s as difficult for him back off a statement as it was for Means.
Ultimately it doesn’t matter whether he does or not as nobodies listening, and Atlanta I suppose is as good a place to spend one’s twilight years as another depending on environmental preference.
Churchill strikes me as one of those A personalities, easily angered, aggressive, and convinced that not only is he correct in his positions but takes disagreement as a personal affront.
Bluster however can be a diversionary tactic when a viable response isn’t to be found, something Means was an adept at.
People begin life as children oblivious to the overview and a sense of their own mortality, awareness dawns and at some point the understanding that old age is part of the deal gives rise to thoughts of insuring some measure of comfort and security during their later years.
Doesn’t work that way for a lot of people though and becoming elderly is something less than the “golden years”.
For those who have seen themselves in the light of celebrity, movers and shakers, as the attention and relevance wanes it’s a tougher row to hoe.
I think that’s where Churchill finds himself now – nobody listens, nobody cares, he’s become a pariah both on the rez and off.
The clinched fist, the rhetoric, and the verbal faux feather have become excruciatingly cartoonish, sort of a politically incorrect red face akin to black face.
Churchill’s last angry man routine along with five bucks will get him a latte at Starbucks, but that’s about the only currency he has anymore.
The golden years have become the pyrite years as the chickens have come home to roost, and all as the direct result of choices made.