Indian Woman: Why is the crazy lady smiling like that?
Judd: I just love how simple they are, settin’ on the floor like they were drinking in the Lord Jesus at a good, old-fashioned Revival back home. Hi Mama! Hi Wy!
Indian Woman: I am very afraid.
Judd: Y’all know I studied these people in college, right? They call it Applied Anthropology. Did y’all know I’m fluent in French, too? I’m the only person in the world who has served as president of the Kappa Kappa Gamma sorority and read Derrida in his native tongue. GO WILDCATS!
Indian Woman: Someone please take this matchy-matchy nightmare away.
Judd: I hope y’all don’t think I’m being ethnicist, but I’ve just noticed this floor is downright filthy. Any of y’all got a clean towel for me to sit on?
Indian Girl in Background: Mother, I think I know who the crazy lady is!
Judd: The floor is not crawling with microbes. It is not, I repeat, crawling with microbes.
Indian Woman: Good God. She is talking to herself.
Indian Girl In Background: She sings the song, “Mama he’s crazy, crazy over me…”
Judd: You. Little. Whore.
Indian Woman: What did I teach you about rabid dogs? Do not speak to this lunatic. Just smile for the camera so they’ll fork over the antiretrovirals.
Indian Girl in Background: Yes, Mother.
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