VEN (WASHINGTON) — During a bizarre, possibly drug-fueled self-serving speech Wednesday to the National Congress of American Indians,  truth-challenged Massachusetts Senator Elizabeth “You Didn’t Build That” Warren explained that whereas she is not on the roles of any native American Indian tribe, her paternal grandfather was highly opposed to her parent’s marriage because her mother — Pauline —  had Cherokee blood.

Furthermore, Ms Warren — looking more like George Armstrong Custer’s demented sapphic love child than a native American — asserted that like her mother Pauline and many  fellow Cherokees,  she was born with high cheekbones, blue eyes,  white skin, and thick, yellow hair.

However, in an exclusive report,  VEN‘s Senior Abnormal Psychology Reporter  Eric Berne reveals that not only wasn’t Ms Warren’s mother, Pauline Reed, part Cherokee, but she was in fact a dance-hall girl  of minor virtues at a prominent Norman, Oklahoma  “house of ill repute” that catered to wildcatters, cattle drovers,  snake-oil salesmen, and itinerant gamblers.

“The Cherokee thing was just the family’s  way of covering up the fact that Pauline was a whore,” 98-year-old Jack Crabb explained to VEN’s Berne Thursday from the Shady Rest Nursing Home In Oklahoma City.

“Pauline deflowered me at the Double Aces when I was 15.  Cost me a week’s wages, but hell it was worth every penny!

“And my God, could that woman lie!  Holy Jesus, you could not believe a word that came out of that little chippy’s mouth!  But little Johnny [ John Hayne Herring ] he fell in love with Pauline.

“Whore or no whore, weren’t no other woman in the world as far as Johnny was concerned.  So they run off and got hitched after Johnny’s father put his foot down when he found out his Johnny was  sweet on one of Miss Lulu Kane’s  biggest whores!

“I guess Libby couldn’t take the shame, so she started telling everyone who’d listen that her mother Pauline was a Cherokee.  I guess despite the shame that might have brought on those kind, long-suffering people, that was easier for Libby than admitting her mother was a whore.

“But my God that Pauline, she was something!  Hell, I’d a paid TWO weeks wages!

“She never stopped lyin’!  But fat or thin as long as you had the tin, she never said No, neither!

“Hell, that was such a very long time ago.  But you know, from what I’ve read, in Libby’s case, well, that particular  apple didn’t fall all that far from the tree, did it?”

Developing . . . .