How is blog formed?

Long time no blog, if I do say so myself.  It has been many moons since I have run with the buffalo and laid my blogohawk into the skull of the white man.

I think if I was a savage Redskin, I would name my son Blood Garden, or Farms With A Spear, you know?  Something that'll raise some eyebrows around the tribe.  Mickey Rourke would be a good one too.  Or Battlebee Coldbottom.  No, probably Blood Gardens.

Because that kid has to know from day 1, that I conceived an ice-cold bigfisted killer.  The whole reason I impregnated his mother, as well as many other godless squaw women, was to raise more warriors as razor-sharp tools with which I can surgically incise my way to the very lifeless heart cavity of the white devil.  Once I am there, I feast on the squishy organ as it still pumps the cold, earth-polluting, globe-warming blood substance that is cursing our land.  Full to the brim with honky hearts, I fill my mouth with as much as it holds (which is a whole lot!), pry my head out of the rib cage area, and then feed my hungry soldier babies sitting in the nest made of caucasion corpses, directly out of my stinky beak.

For I am Knitter Of Many Scalp-Quilts, guardian of this sacred land, and buster of countless caps on the battlefield, into brave warriors and whack-ass bustas alike.