Live at the Feast of the Flowering Moon

Adventures down Highway 23. I decided this would be the summer of the festival (usually free and rich in people watching), so my wife, her friend Carol, and I, headed to Chillicothe to attend our first of the season, the Feast of the Flowering Moon, which is basically a small town co-opting it's native beginnings to have a rinky-dink street fair. There was nothing to see here (once you've seen one Cheese on a Stick cart, you've seen them all) except for the Midwest's Finest Dance Troupe. By the time we made it to our destination the rotting retired war hero at the info booth told us "If yooorr here for da injuns, they just done their last dancing." (He really said "injuns.") I trusted my instincts and guided our trio down by a small pond where I spotted tee-pees set-up. Luckily we arrived right as they were starting their last show of the weekend. This was some amazing shit to behold (witness my first uploaded youtube clip above). My lovey quipped that the music was much better than that Animal band I've been going on about, and she was right. Right enough to get me digging into the archives of Navajo songs recorded in the 1930s and 40s (all available at most public libraries). After that it was time to wrap up the whole shebang with Ross County Idol. We were tempted to watch sub-civilization humiliate themselves with another rendition of "Jesus Take the Wheel" or "Achy Breaky Heart," but they'd already done that by relegating the Native Americans who'd traveled for hours to second billing at the bottom of the hill. Mutants.