"Greasy Grass Country" is what the Oglala used to call it. Crazy Horse was killed right near here, you know. Not too far. Right nearby. Bayoneted to death. Imagine that. Bayoneted. Not unlike Christ, when you come right down to it. Not to mention the two thieves. Spears to the ribs. Sacrificed like some wild beast. Some dangerous critter that might jump up out of the dark and rip your throat out for no reason. That’s the kind of fear they had. Tricked him into coming into the fort — starved him right into it — promised him stuff — promised him land — hunting rights — promised him freedom — that’s the worst of it. "Freedom" they called it. They were full of promises back then. Still are. Same ones. Crazy Horse — a man of his people. Not many of them left. He was only thirty years old.
Don’t you think there ought to be a National Day of Rest for someone like that? A true American Hero. Close the schools. Close the post office. Five minutes of pure silence across the nation. Five minutes of pure silence."