The dark days that have too long hung like thick black smog over Creeland are over.
Everything is hunky friggin’ dory. There is no bad news to report. The Nation’s work here is done. We might have to pack up the tools of our trade and move on. No bad news is no news. Those who whined about this magazine’s “negative” coverage can now go on to whine about other whineworthy….er…things.

That’s right, Utopia has risen like Phoenix in the place called Creeland/Eeyou Estchee. The people are happy, rich and well fed. The voters can now bear to look to their chiefs with pride and joy. Children can walk safely through the streets of their community without their parents having to worry about drunk Gilles Villeneuve wannabe chiefs running them over. Every single Cree has been awarded an honourary doctorate. Funky days are back again.

Indeed. All our entities are Y2K bug-free and out of the red and into the black, diabetes has been annihilated, employment is running at 90-something percent, the logging companies have fled Creeland in disgust. Hydro Quebec has dismantled all dams and converted the whole operation to solar and wind power. Hallelujah.

Alright. The rivers are teeming with fish to fry, the skies above are filled with flocks and flocks and flocks of geese, overpaid band consultants are boarding south bound planes with pink slips in their leather briefcases, drug dealers have found Jesus and now peddle the good book to children on school playgrounds, the youth have miraculously lost their taste for the Devil’s music, drugs, alcohol and sex, hockey and softball tournaments are starting to look more like bible camp gathering and everyone’s a winner, baby.

The federal and provincial governments have had changes of heart and will now honour their treaties, stop their lying ways, and compensate every Cree and their pets, should they own any, for damages incurred. Oh yeah, Cree madhatters have graciously resigned from their second, third, fourth and fifth jobs and can now sleep at nights. Everything’s gonna be alright, rock-a-bye…

War is over. Peace will reign for a thousand years. Land stolen from the Indians across the Americas is being given back. Racism is just an ugly memory. Murder is dead. Greed is buried. Sloth has shaped up. Pride has been humbled. Envy has gained self esteem. Gluttony is starving. Satan has been saved. Things are looking up and we’re laughin’.

At this very moment, Rez Notes is being written by a heavily sedated and nonalcoholic, non-drug abusing, non-sexually perverse individual whose name escapes me at the moment (no, it is not Neil Diamond). I would now like to be known as Chris Gaines. Ha, ha, just joking. Things are looking up so much that this reporter is in the mood for a little light jesting. No more cynical blahblahblah…

Oh, did I mention that I won the lottery? With my $13 million, I have hired Will to…be my “driver.”