stewed thighs splatter

Following a violent encounter the evening before in which they were separated from an avian torso at knifepoint, a pair of turkey thighs hit a new low. When the plate they were resting in was jostled by an overweight sous chef walking past, the thighs fell three and a half feet down onto the grimy red tiles of the greasy spoon’s kitchen, below. Due to their meaty heft, the thighs hit with such force that they threw up twin plumes of gravy, some of which entered a nearby storage cabinet, soiling the clean plates stacked therein. “Ah man, would you look at that,” said Thomassina Morninggale, a nearby diner. “Two perfectly good turk legs, ruined.” Without additional fanfare, the on-duty dishwasher bent down, scooped up the tainted meat, wiped up the residual gravies, and went back to work. ‘Daggone it,’ he thought; ‘I was looking forward to eating those.’

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑

Daesh ambassador arrives

A new ambassador arrived at the United Nations this morning, to little fanfare. Representing the ‘Islamic State’ in Syria and the Levant (Daesh, or ISIL), Iqbad al-Khyber plans to fight for the right to spread a caliphate over all known peoples of the world. “By referring to my group as a state, high-ranking members of the United States gave us legitimacy and allowed us to gain access to this international body,” al-Khyber said, updating his profile on the jihadist Twitter account he runs. Appointed to his position by a Daesh ruling body that is in the process of fleeing the Syrian and Russian forces liberating Aleppo, the ISIL ambassador finished taping his terrorist group’s flag to the inside of his hotel window then ventured out into the streets of New York for a look around. “It’s surprising to me that we have made it this far,” he said, his eyes dancing across the opulent skyscrapers and clothing boutiques rising from Manhattan bedrock. “If only the Palestinians would catch on and pledge to fight the sworn enemies of America while in actuality battling the Ynki imperialist and his blood-drenched cohorts. We are foreign outsiders who gained official American recognition within a few years by committing horrible atrocities and subjecting large swaths of central Asia to Sharia law, whereas the Palestinians, the Ynki Dakota Sioux, the Iraqi Yazidi, or the Burmese Kachin are native peoples primarily yearning to choose their own path in life. Who knew that all a group of people had to do in order to gain recognition as such was call itself a state?” After a few hours of aimless wandering, al-Khyber reached the memorial raised in memory of the 11 September 2001 attacks, where he wept in honor of the 15 Saudi Arabian hijackers who had died in the process of reducing the World Trade Center’s twin towers to rubble.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

drone-hairdresser opens

The world’s first beauty salon in which semi-autonomous robots perform most of the tasks opened today in a suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio. Referred to in popular culture as drones, partially self-aware machines will apply nail-polish, wash customers’ hair, and sweep up fallen clippings at ‘Automated Beauty’ on Chestnut street in downtown Rappsville. Until fully self-directed robots are developed that can all the work a living salon agent normally performs, the tread-mounted machines at ‘Automated Beauty’ will be directed by human operators stationed in New Delhi, India. “At first, we were worried about the potential safety risk of allowing machines fitted with sharp scissors to cut the hair of our many wonderful clients,” said Rasheed M. Blattersmied, 37, who owns the salon. “But after a few successful test runs and in light of the positive feedback we’ve received, we plan to have have six more robots up and running by early next year.” Affiliated Appearance Management Specialists International, a beauty-salon-worker trade union with members in 14 countries, decried the arrival of robots in a field long thought immune to automation. “Our affiliates will fight whitened tooth and sparkly nail against this assault on such a storied institution as beauty management,” said Theodora U’Unaha, the union’s sitting president. “This field is founded on artistic ability, not source code. What’s next - robotic wig-makers? Automated plastic surgeons? Sheesh.”

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

on crushing ants

Him lumbering beast paused on his way across the sunken meadow, turning to see why his packmates barked. Ants were attacking their legs and paws, tiny things that stung hard. For years, the beasts had stood by while the ants multiplied - in hopes that the tiny threats would attack anything the beasts didn’t like. Now, though, the insects were latched onto the beasts’ own sensitive bits, tearing out skin, digging into orifices.

A juvenile beast went down, her pelt a carpet of stinging mandibles. In moments, she was dead. Outraged, the other beasts vowed to destroy the ants once and for all. Normally, the ants kept to themselves, but him lumbering beast had been stirring around in the stand of bushes were the crawling biters lived. Incensed at his audacity and upset that he had crushed many of their mates whilst in the throes of his stirrings, the miniscule moving mouths had decided to fight back.

“This is an outrage,” the beast bellowed, his voice hoarse and choking. “Cease this assault on my brethren!” He raised up on his hind legs, his broad back bathed in the light of a setting sun.
“You brought it upon yourself,” the ants cried back in unison. “You came to our lands and destroyed our cities, crushing the weak and the defenseless. You are reaping what you sowed - death, violence, and pain. We have too long stood by as you made your stirrings amongst the other insects, the weaker ones that could not or would not fight back.”
“But I was just trying to help my pack, to make the bushes easier for us to harvest!” the lumberer roared.
“You help no one by messing in our affairs, by crushing our people with every step. Enough is enough!”
With a sordid squeak, the ants launched a thousand and one assaults.

The beasts bled. And died.
Yet him lumbering beast - he who lead the entire pack - pledged he would continue to intervene where he saw fit. “I am exceptional, and this world needs me to show the way forward. So long as no one proves badder than me, it is my destiny to ignore the lessons of history and keep repeating the same mistakes with insane abandon. No one but my friends and I deserve to live well. Behold my terrible power, and shudder.”

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

grapefruit orchard hacked

Unknown assailants breached the firewall of SolDelicious Grapefruit Growers Ltd. (SDGG) this morning, installing ransomware to hold the company’s data hostage. Covering most of northern Florida and southern Georgia, SDGG produces more than sixty percent of the world’s grapefruit. Popular on all continents, the company’s sun-dappled grounds regularly produce delicious and juicy produce - until today, that is. “Nothing’s working,” said SDGG chief technical officer Dr. Gharnn Y. Badel. Laboring to get a cavernous packing and shipping warehouse back up and running, Dr. Badel expressed hope that the board of directors would pay the sum demanded. “We need to get this equipment working. The world needs our juicy fruits.” On the New York Stock Exchange, SDGG stock skyrocketed upon word of the breach. Rumors are spreading that the attack was a false flag operation initiated by majority-shareholding shadow corporations.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

a western find

A trove of letters dating to World War One was found yesterday in the ruins of an old fort. Made secure in the late 1600s by Yaelong tribespeople seeking to fend off Rus invaders, the area saw little conflict during the War to End All Wars. It served instead as a transfer-station for the intelligence wing of the Krukuv Anarchist Legion, a people’s army that defended the nation until 1956, when it was all but crushed by Warsaw Pact (Soviet) forces. Nestled in the western fringes of the Yiptlong massif, the Chach’rrash pass - where the letters were found - is a windswept, nightmarish climb through fields of boulders and loess beds alike. The pastoral highland regions nearby feature many attractions, among them prehistoric cave paintings, winter sports, and a number of winter solstice festivals. Due to the age and condition of the letters, few details have emerged about what they contain. Researchers at the Grigovian Institute of Cultural Studies, where preservation efforts are underway, hope to know more soon.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

den of many

Into the den of many lions shall this whorphan go tonight - will he find true voices any or just anger fear and fright? No one knows and none can predict how the rally will go down perhaps there will be book burnings over there in Hershey-town. Swiftly down a rabbit-hole of pageantry and hollow talk will he and his second venture with a strong but measured walk.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

skinheads reach America

Early Monday morning, a raft carrying around 60 members of various European national-socialist groups landed on the southern coast of Long Island, New York. Bedraggled but apparently well-nourished, the racists had set sail from the west coast of France in the first days of November, braving the frigid North Atlantic during its volatile winter season in what by all accounts was an improvised and shoddily built vessel. Welcomed by members of the Ynki president-elect’s Commission on Domestic Reawakening (CDR), the neo-Nazis were quickly wrapped in blankets and lovingly spoon-fed hot soup. Shadowed and at times assisted by the U.S. Coast Guard during the final stages of their arduous journey, the white supremacists are expected to take up leadership positions in alt-right community organizations across America. Their president-elect approved mandates include the subjugation of dark-skinned peoples, the erosion of civil rights and liberties, and the propagation of “half-truths and misinformation,” according to Randall T. Weissensieg, sitting chairman of the CDR. “We thank the heavens for bringing these proud Aryans to our blessed shores,” he said, “and hope for a swift return to the days when the white race alone shone brightly at the apex of world society.” The raft used by the national socialists will be displayed alongside the now-defunct Constitution of the United States of America, whose essential tenets the Ynki long ago abandoned in favor of short-term corporate profit-making.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑

dispatch 5 - sisterly affection

She was appalled by the seas of ‘Stump for President’ flags she had seen flying through the bus’s windows as she made her way through the small towns of central New Jersey. Erya Rovend had studied history and read or watched every snippet she could find featuring this ‘red’ candidate. In Grigovia under Soviet occupation, ‘red’ candidates had been party hardliners with little concern for the needs of the common man, hardliners who worked to make themselves and their friends rich at the expense of the rest of society. The Ynki, it seemed to her, were too falling for one of the oldest tricks in the oldest of books; they were enamoured with a supposed outsider who voiced simple solutions to complex problems, one who seemingly obscured or denied the truth about his shadowy past in order to win over the hearts and minds of simple people yearning for a better life. A charismatic and quick talker, Stump appeared to be gaining ground no matter how brash and offensive his statements, no matter how checkered and criminal his life had been, previously. ‘A flock of sheep will follow the strongest ram, even if he is a rapist asshole,’ she thought to herself as the bus pulled up to its assigned berth in downtown Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

Erya retrieved her backpack and headed into town, distracted by the comparisons her brain was making between candidate Stump and Romania’s Nicolae Ceausescu, Italy’s Benito Mussolini, and a previous Ynki president, Lyndon Johnson. Each of these eventually brutal and oppressive dictators had taken power on promises of moderation and restraint but had quickly turned autocratic, their fascist policies of military intervention overseas and at home needlessly staining the good Earth with blood. It was still relatively early in the day, and so after checking in at the Grigovian Traveler’s mission and dropping off her bag, she walked over to the buildings in which the Declaration of Independence was housed. There, she wept upon reading the list of reasons that had compelled the supporters of that now-marginalized text to fight for freedom. To her, each reason in that list was something the Ynki regime had been doing to its own and to foreign people since shortly after the ink was dry on its Constitution. ‘The Ynki has come full circle,’ she thought; ‘he is the tyrant he once aimed to oppose, a belligerent beast that violates the principles he once held high, no better than the worst of mankind’s worst oppressors.’ Out of apparent motherly concern, a middle-aged woman sidled close to her, offering her a tissue. “It’s terrible, isn’t it,” the woman said, her dark-brown skin glowing under the bright lights illuminating the Declaration, looking over at the text and releasing a deep sigh. “Let it out, darling. We’ve been fighting for so long we don’t know what peace even feels like, anymore.” Erya sniffled, wiped tears from her cheeks, and said thank you. The older woman nodded in response, walked confidently out into the gathering gloom of a rainy Pennsylvania afternoon, and disappeared into the passing crowds.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

on elliptical effects

Eight months after purchasing it at a curbside yard sale, local resident Harry D. Bhagg, 47, dragged his once-prized elliptical workout machine back out into the street. “I have had a hard time finding the motivation to exercise alone,” the man said, the tendons in his forearms creaking and straining. The elliptical would be in his life for many weeks to come, however, as its massive bulk meant it was too large for the municipal trash collectors and too unwieldy for private services to pick up. After receiving a fourth warning letter from city hall, Harry D. Bhagg dragged out his wrench set and spent three hours tearing apart the machine, which proved to be the workout he’d long been hoping for. “Phew, I’m spent,” he said whilst putting away his tools. “Time for a beer.” He then proceeded to consume 2000 calories worth of hopped malt and frozen pizza, ruining his short-lived streak of healthy living and plunging headlong back into a vicious cycle of self-loathing, regret, and poor decision-making. “Such is life,” he said, climbing into bed, where he slept until his bursting bladder forced him to wake up an hour later.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

ᚈ˙Ɵ_ꜛ|•⚚⬌⚚•|ꜛ_Ɵ˙ᚈ

there sit in the grasp of a soft comfy loge two wonderful puppers two tail-wagging doge

point a potus

A sidelong look was all it took to get her juices flowing - she had no need for motor-steeds or sizeable wads showing. She’d jump into the sack forthwith at just a moment’s notice with men of stature men of note and at one point a potus. As time wore on her woebegone and tattered wizard’s curtain lured in not high and mighty lads but lowlife scum and cretin. She was not bothered in the least though for into the sheets she’d still go with each sidelong looking chap who had a mind to probe her trap.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

Iktomi touches all

Spread Iktomi wide and well from windy peak to sodden dell that web you weave to bind together atom-groups with spindly tethers keeping all in concert woven in a way that time’s still proving. Chaos theory shows it’s true the influence of what you do with tiny strands spread near and far connecting each and every star. Bless his presence praise be told of his great gifts both new and old much thanks to Iktomi let’s speak - for ‘van der Waals’ and the force ‘weak.’

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

⌶+￬.=ī¡⥞¤⥟¡ī=.￬+⌶

there’s not much a fellow might strive for in life than knowing his artwork and love will survive

an intolerant quirk

Americans of Bigoted and Racist Inclination (ABiRacIn, pronounced ‘aberration’), a confederation of white-supremacist with thousands of splinter-cells nationwide, held its final cyber-meeting of 2016. Organized by subgroup leaders in primarily rural areas of the American South and Midwest (with new cells opening throughout the Mid-Atlantic), ABiRacIn aims to intensify and perpetuate tendencies present in the Americas since Christopher Columbus set foot on Hispaniola in 1492 - hatred, greed, and a thirst for human blood. “We Americans of European Descent, we white people, are the only ones who deserve to receive the bounty of this great land,” said Harold Theodor Thomas Hammrsmeed, the group’s co-founder, at a press conference held afore the columned portico of his decrepit estate in southern Georgia. “We built this great land, we farm this great land, our forefathers fought and died for this great land, which means we and we alone ought bask in the fruits of America’s blessings. It doesn’t matter that coloreds whose skin-tones are slightly darker or more tan than ours worked as hard or harder to make this country rich and powerful; it doesn’t matter that the good soils we plant with grain to keep beef cheap, the tall mountains we tear apart in search of our beloved coal, were for millennia watched over and protected by red savages; the white man was, is, and forever shall be the only man who matters.” Emboldened by the election of Ronald Stump, who clawed his way to the presidency on a splintery plank of anti-immigrant and Islamophobic rhetoric, ABiRacIn has recently emerged from the shadows of the dark web, holding press conferences and staging rallies in small towns across the Ynki heartland. Labeled a hate group in 2003 by the Southern Poverty Law Center, ABiRacIn has voiced loud support for a right-wing activist recently selected to be incoming president Stump’s senior policy advisor.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

Grigovia offers asylum

The Grigovian Office of External Affairs this morning announced an expansion of its immigration efforts geared toward Americans who are now (or will soon be) seeking political asylum from the upcoming reign of president-elect Ronald Stump. A candidate long on promises but short on policy, Stump - who rose to power on a gravy-train of petty but virulent white supremacy - appears to pose a threat to independent freethinkers such as journalists and artists as well as to women seeking the right to make decisions about their own bodily health. “Grigovia welcomes Ynki who desire to live in peaceful freedom and cooperative prosperity in a country that values and safeguards their liberty,” said Dr. Uoudya E. Eiyouust, head of the Parliamentary External Affairs Committee and architect of the expanded efforts. “In our Glorious Republic is room for individuals seeking to think as they see fit, who desire to write what they decide is best to write, who wish to be respected regardless of their gender or sexuality. Our integration and employment infrastructure provides immigrants with language classes, transitional housing, job placement assistance, and much more so that new arrivals can start enriching and enlivening our economy and culture instead of languishing in the shadows of pariahdom. If a Stump presidency scares you, friend Ynki, please consider Grigovia when making emigration plans. Our doors stand open.” For more information visit your nearest Grigovian embassy.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

whites only oenotheque

Tired of dark-hued, reddish wines? Looking for a place where only whites are served - the finest, most pure whites around? If so, come on down to Whites Only Oenotheque on Jackson Avenue and Union Street for a fine selection of Chardonnay, Pinot Grigio, Riesling, and Sauvignon Blanc wines. Rest assured - no coloreds dare darken our reclaimed barn-wood countertop, threatening to besmudge the white leather seats of our hand-made, wrought-iron barstools. It’s whites only all day from the first drop poured to the last sip taken. Most of our wines are grown, fermented, and bottled right here in the United States of America. Each of our wonderful domestic whites comes with a certified paper of origin, and all imported whites undergo thorough vetting and approval procedures at the hands of trained technicians before departure and upon arrival. Don’t bring anything into your home even a shade darker than the best, finest, provenly superior white! Travel-proof and inconspicuous ‘Bagged & Boxed’ white wines now available for discerning but economically disadvantaged customers who insist upon quality whites at a fair price. There’s something for every checkbook at Whites Only Oenotheque in downtown Durham, North Carolina - stop in today!

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

Gran clicks link

After hours of careful deliberation, Des Moines, Iowa resident and septuagenarian Alice Hasenloch moved the cursor of her mouse over a bank of advertisements flashing brightly on the trailing edge of her cathode-ray-tube computer monitor. Whipping the mouse up and down so as to straighten out its cord, Alice took a deep breath, peered at the target advert one more time, took a moment to ponder whether or not she really wanted to receive a pamphlet containing information about the platforms and policies of one Bernard Sanders, depressed the left button on the mouse using her right index finger, and sat back to wait. As the election had already passed, however, and a fear-mongering nincompoop had been elected to the presidency, the link took her to a page that looked like but wasn’t the page she was trying to reach. Deeper and deeper she went into the dark core of the Internet until she started seeing pictures of people who weren’t wearing clothes, whereupon she pressed CTRL+F4 enough times to cause her left hand to cramp up. Once her computer displayed nothing but the desktop screen (a picture of her neighbor’s grandchildren), she initiated its shutdown procedures, got up, stretched, said, “Ah well, fuck it,” and took a walk that happened to take her past the corner package store.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

president recognizes Palestine

In a long-hoped-for gesture of respect for the existence of more than four million people, Mr. Barack Obama today officially recognized the State of Palestine. “For an ancient and proud people such as the Palestinian people to be forced into massive open-air prison camps and kept there without access to the infrastructures we’ve come to recognize as those necessary to live a fulfilling human life, that is a tragedy that defies the kind of basic decency we look for in one another,” the president said from amidst rows of frost-tipped roses planted near his residence. Speaking just after the crack of dawn on 8 November 2016 - election day, in America - Mr. Obama went on, saying. “I mean, people in positions of power here in the U.S.A. started calling the terrorist organization known as Daesh ‘Islamic State’ after those murderous thugs had been around for only a couple years and captured themselves a city or two.” At this point, the president chuckled, shaking his head and looking down. “And here we have the Palestinians, who’ve been living in the Middle East since biblical times, and for seven decades I and the presidents who came before me have not once recognized the right of Palestine to exist - nay, the right for it to be recognized as a state? And for what? So that religious zealots of a different stripe can occupy land and build settlements on that land with impunity and in stark violation of international law? If we can bring ourselves to call Daesh 'Islamic State’, then we can bring ourselves to refer to the self-organized people living in Israel’s concentration camps by-the-sea as the State of Palestine. It’s that simple.”

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑

ī⏛⍥⌒Ұ⚲Ұ⌒⍥⏛ī

a young one is screaming in the deep inside there next to the hovel of heartbreak and pride

woman shoots cop

Fayetteville, KY. Earlier this morning, from on the steps of the county courthouse, the jury in the Groeneveld v. Brownfield County case announced a verdict. After just two days of deliberation, it found Ms. Heraldine K. Groeneveld, the accused, innocent of wrongdoing in the shooting death of Sergeant Dwight G. T. Blaiseworth of the Chaumsville police department. Ms. Groeneveld, an American Person of Recent African Descent, had admitted to firing on Sergeant Blaiseworth, who was working an undercover assignment at the time, when he had approached her with his firearm drawn, at night, without identifying himself as a police officer. The following is an excerpt from her sworn deposition: “I was trying to find a set of keys I had dropped when I saw a man get out of his car, pull out a pistol, and start running toward me. He was screaming at me to ‘Get the f**k away from the car,’ but never once did he say he was a cop. I’ve been carjacked before, so when I saw his weapon, I feared for my life. I then pulled out my own weapon and shot him before he could shoot me.” Numerous police shootings across the U.S. have led to the deaths of scores of unarmed men, women, and children; Ms. Groeneveld was vindicated in her assumption that all citizens - not just citizens working as police officers - are allowed to fire upon an assailant should they feel their lives are in danger. Speaking for the jury, Allysson Y. Humnerloess said, “We hope our verdict will serve as a reminder to all American citizens - police officers especially - that pulling a weapon is a threatening act, to which violence is an appropriate response.” Police unions across the nation have issued formal complaints, citing their supposed right to kill unarmed civilians should those citizens even look at an officer in any way that could possibly be viewed as threatening. Unlike officers involved in shootings, Ms. Groeneveld will not get a paid two-week vacation or psychological counselling; she is no longer in jail, however, and will be able to return to her family, and job.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

nameless protector goddess

Her face was the last flames of sundown, her voice the grating screech of a loose and rusty hinge. She’d hide in the cracks of yesterday’s memories, where the darker fears live, but she herself knew not fear or thirst, hunger or want. She was the keeper of secret passions, the protector of lost and feeble souls. She had no name. As with a shadow, she was there yet not really there, present yet absent, unforgettable yet impossible to overlook. Hers are the hopes never spoken, the forgotten feelings rotting away behind fast-food-fat walls. And though most people meet her frequently, she sloughs from their minds with the breaking of the next day’s sun. Heed her call, and rejoice.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

dispatch 4 - NYC

In the foyer of the Grigovian Traveller’s Mission, some new arrivals were watching highlights of debate between D. Trump and H. Clinton. Earlier that morning, Erya had read on the news website Russia Today that there were at least four other legitimate presidential contenders but that the two most influential parties had locked all others out of nationally syndicated debates in order to maintain their hold on power. She didn’t trust Russia Today, but counted on it to at least show a different point of view on world affairs. Other sites she frequently perused were Democracy Now!, Al Jazeera, National Public Radio, and the Guardian. Slowly, it was dawning on her how the American people could appear to be so daft, so disconnected from the corruption and abuse occurring at the highest levels of their government - the people they trusted to spoon-feed them the news weren't talking about such things. Part of the preparation for her post of de-facto Grigovian ambassador to the United Nations, Ms. Rovend had studied the politics, history, and economy of the United States. Not that such studies were mandatory for an ambassador, but she had figured that someone from a relatively weak country such as Grigovia should know as much as possible about the relatively strong country that seemed to be bullying states and peoples around the world. No one had elected or appointed her to the post of ambassador - she had been approached by her country’s Foreign Office after having given a speech denouncing imperialism and the unequal distribution of wealth (especially in industrialized nations).

Pulling her coat tightly around herself, she wandered out of the Mission, turned left on Ninth Avenue, and walked slowly south. Some men whistled at her from a construction site, but she ignored them. She had learned long ago to not give men power of her by reacting to their sexist aggressions. Having trained in three forms of martial arts, her body was a lethal weapon. Not knowing exactly what she was looking for, she wandered aimlessly from one side of southern Manhattan island to the other, just another brown-haired girl in a denim jacket out for an afternoon stroll.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

dispatch 3 - NYC

She went to a public house, drank there a beer. Denied entry into a trendy looking club, she decided instead to wander the streets in search of friendly faces. Few were they and far between for many wore a sullen mien as they did drag themselves back home from jobs in banks - savings and loan. That second night, she discovered Washington Square Park, where she felt at least a bit at home. In that place as is most of Grigovia, people from all walks of life were taking the evening air, stopping to look at one another or to talk, walking dogs, playing chess, dancing, singing, being free. Erya Rovend check-mated a gentleman in ten turns then joined a group of university students heading toward Mamoun’s, a falafel shop. She discussed with them how strange it was that few Americans seemed to be aware that their country was at war (i.e. bombing targets with impunity) in five separate nations around the globe. “No one talks about such things, at least not on T.V.,” a young political scientist told her.

Erya bid the group farewell and started walking south, toward a place her folding map listed as Battery Park. On the way she paused at Wall Street, but kept walking when two heavily armed police officers started staring at her and whispering to each other. Such was her culture shock that she just then started to notice the profusion of closed circuit television (CCTV) cameras screwed into the sides of most buildings, unblinking eyes staring out on nearly empty streets. When she arrived, Battery Park was deserted but for a dozen or so homeless persons bedding down for the night. Leaning forward onto a length of cast-iron railing, Erya stared at the empty pedestal where the statue ‘Liberty Enlightening the World’ had stood until the Glorious Republic of Grigovia had bought it - to save it from the scrap-heap. Lost in thought, she was startled when a radio chirped loudly, just behind her. She turned to find a pair of heavily-armed police officers standing on a patch of darkness, a pile of old blankets at their feet. One of the officers, a male, kicked at the pile until the person sleeping therein woke up.
“No sleeping in the park, you. Get moving,” the officer said.
Clad in too few clothes for the fall weather, the painfully skinny man gathered up his rotting blankets, paused to pull up his belt-less pants, and started shuffling toward the brightly lit sidewalk at the edge of the park.
The two officers turned toward Erya. Shocked by the cruel way the officers had treated the homeless man, they caught staring at them, slack-jawed and wide-eyed.
“You too - be on your way,” the female officer told her.
‘No wonder the U.S. sold us its statue of liberty,’ she thought to herself as she exited the park. ‘There are not enough freedoms left here, it seems, to in good conscious justify keep it up.’

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

Grigovian peace bonds

The Grigovian Ministry of Peace, Harmony, and Cooperation (MOPHAC) is proud to announce the return of Peace Bonds! Starting in March of [Gregorian 2017, Lunisolar 4714, Hebrew 5777], Peace Bonds will be available for purchase at any of MOPHAC’s two-score national chapters. Proceeds from the sale of Peace Bonds will be used to fund vocational training and other forms of education for the thousands of Syrian refugees resettled within Grigovia and our neighboring states, primarily Iran and Afghanistan. Unlike War Bonds, which are used by some Western countries to fund aggressive, illegal, and immoral incursions into the territories of sovereign foreign nations, Peace Bonds will be used to help lift displaced and otherwise impoverished persons - Grigovians and new arrivals alike - out of poverty by giving them the tools they need to live productive and healthy lives. Courses such as Community Gardening and Health Through Repetitive Application as well as Hacking Skills for Tomorrow’s Computing are on offer at all campuses of the Grigovian National Education System, free of charge. For more information about Peace Bonds or to volunteer to host a family fleeing war in Syria, please contact your local parliamentary representative, zheriph’s office, or Grigovian People’s Army agent.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

.⏄\♁␣ӫΘӫ␣♁/⏄.

the ones in the middle do drink of their fill; the rest on the outside must settle with swill

dispatch 2 - NYC

On her second day in New York, she got a ticket for drinking in public. She’d been on foot, exploring the southern tip of Manhattan island. She’d bought a can of beer from a corner shop and sat in the park to drink it. In Grigovia, she thought to herself, adults are allowed to make adult decisions. In front of her stood a pair of police-officers. Tall female, shorter male.
“Why am I being punished?” she asked them, her olive complexion turning slightly darker.
The cops shared a knowing glance, shook their heads slowly, and smiled. The taller officer showed her partner the ticket. He nodded, smiling, his hands resting on his thickly-studded weapons belt.
“The public consumption of alcohol is forbidden in New York City.”
Erya Rovend looked over at the sidewalk seating area of a nearby cafe. At a few of the tables, people were drinking what, to her, clearly appeared to be alcohol. Bottles of wine. Glasses of beer.
“Next time, maybe put it in a plastic cup,” said the woman as she tore a paper slip from her notepad and handed it to Erya. She took out her leather passport holder and slipped the ticket into it.
“You stay out of trouble now,” the man-cop said.
He and his partner sauntered away into the park.

Walking over a bridge later that same afternoon, the former Grigovian ambassador to the United Nations noticed a couple of young men scaling a chainlink fence nearby, dropping down onto the train tracks below, and rushing quickly out of sight. The way the men were dressed - their hooded sweatshirts and paint-stained backpacks - reminded her of friends back in Grig who did graffiti. She scaled the same fence as they had, dropped down also, and walked confidently into the gloom ahead. Soon enough, she could hear the familiar rattling of cans, the soft whooshing of paint being propelled out of steel cylinders. Pausing to look around at the walls of the tunnel, she found them to be covered in a riot of designs and shapes, words and figures blasted onto the surrounding concrete by countless former vandals.
“Now this is good stuff,” she said aloud, whistling quietly, in appreciation.
“You hear something?” one of the nearby artists hissed.
“No need to worry, friends,” Erya started to say as she turned to face their general direction, stepping accidentally onto a piece of broken wood that spun away to break a discarded liquor bottle.
There followed a flurry of zipping and cursing. The sound of people running. Then, silence.
Climbing over the train that had separated them, Era Rovend discovered that the men had vanished, their good graffiti work unfinished. An unfinished piece glistened in the faint light coming from the tunnel’s mouth. To her it looked like a group of citizens standing their ground against a phalanx of riot police. Under it was written in black and glaring letters the following statement:
Man The Barricades; Black Lives Matter.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

dispatch 1 - NYC

She stepped off the airplane in New York and was immediately overwhelmed. It was years since she’d last been there, and certain things were a shock to her: the size of buildings, the width of highway lanes, the number of fat people around. In the distance she thought she could see the skyline of Manhattan, something she mostly ignored during her previous visits. She kept walking toward the adjacent terminal, and lost sight of that famous sawtooth silhouette, her mind turning to the task at hand - security check, passport check, customs check. All routine for a frequent traveler such as the former de facto Grigovian ambassador to the United Nations. A light traveler, she had packed one week’s worth of clothing into her carry-on bag. She’d toured both war-torn regions and peaceful metropolises, forged rivers and ducked gunfire. In her former post, she had addressed well-dressed heads of state and rag-bound orphans alike, sometimes both in the same day. There is little left, she thought, that will shock me. I’m ready.
“What’s the purpose of your visit?” the dark-skinned immigration agent said.
“Pleasure,” she replied. The man leaned forward to look at the computer screen in front of him.
“Is this your first time in the U.S.?” he asked, peering up at her.
“It is my first time here as a civilian.”
After a few more moments, and some thoughtful glances, the agent punched keys on his keyboard, slid a slim piece of paper between the folds of her cornflower-blue Grigovian passport, and handed it back to her.
“Welcome to America.”
Erya Rovend smiled in thanks, picked up her passport, shouldered her backpack, and started following signs to Ground Transportation. Within an hour, she was in midtown Manhattan, where she bought two cheap gravity knives and a wool scarf from a sidewalk vendor. Seeing something familiar in the man’s worn face, she greeted him formally in Pashto, a language common to Central Asia. His smile was so wide she was afraid it would split his head in two, the creases and cracks all running together at the corners of the eyes. Taking her hands in his, he blessed her, wishing her success on her path, wherever it would take her.
Swept along by a pressing mass of pedestrians moving by, she soon lost sight of the Afghan gentleman, losing also her patience for the touristik bustle of Times Square. She walked west, toward the setting sun. At a corner bakery she bought two sticky pastries, one for her and one for a homeless woman crouching in a nearby alleyway. Upon reaching the Hudson River she turned south, making for the Grigovian Travellers’ Mission on 8th Avenue and 14th Street.
Erya Rovend - civic leader, social philosopher, martial artist - had arrived in America. And she was going to find out what, as the Ynki tend to say, made it tick.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

⌓·ī☉ӝ⎑ӝ☉ī·⌓

this breath is so deep it just well might drown me; if so though that is what the godhead decrees

Liberty receives facelift

Nearly three (3) full years after purchasing her from a bankrupt and failing Ynki government, ‘Liberty Enlightening the World’ will receive an extensive facelift. The massive copper-clad iron statue has been thoroughly inspected by a group of restoration experts, who estimate their efforts to repair weather and transportation damage will take roughly two (2) years. Standing proudly on Mad Spit, an island situated in the Yalung river near downtown Grig, ‘Liberty’ is the pride and joy of many Grigovians. The repairs will be be paid for and managed by a crowdfunded and not-for-profit group of local craftspersons. As per a recent press-release, the group plans to donate all excess funds to locate orphanages.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

Grigovia accepts refugees

An additional 500 refugees fleeing the Syrian conflict arrived today in Grig, capital of the Glorious Republic of Grigovia. Housed temporarily in tunnels usually set aside as emergency winter quarters, the recent arrivals will soon be put up permanently in the homes of average citizens, in cities dotting this Central Asian nation. “Many of the people arriving now are highly skilled and well educated,” said Theiyundt Rhakshamb, deputy Director of Refugee Affairs for the country’s Interior Ministry. “We look forward to helping these good people become settled here, locate schools for their children, and, in a month or two, find some form of work.” This most recent batch of refugees arrived with the help of neighboring Iran, having been moved by bus and rail from collection points on the latter’s western border. In the year 2014 (Gregorian), the two countries entered into a partnership with the stated goal of “assisting any and all persons affected by the continuing campaigns of violent, foreign intervention being visited upon the Syrian people,” according to a joint press release. The newly arriving Syrians are invited to attend a welcoming dinner hosted by members of Grigovia’s parliament later this week, at the National Convention Center.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

president receives prize

Citing his proven track record of depraved and violent acts designed to force the peaceful and independent peoples of the world to follow his country’s every whim and fancy, the Noble Committee today bestowed its coveted ‘War Prize’ upon the sitting American president. Formerly, Mr. President had received the Committee’s ‘Peace Prize,’ which it apparently gives out to people it merely likes, not to those who are actively trying to make the world a more peaceful place. “The current American president has done an amazing job in reducing Syria to rubble using an illegal bombing campaign,” said Denmark’s prince Gusdav Kleimenhamerstin IV, head of the Noble Committee. “His valiant efforts to subjugate the leadership of Syria under the American bootheel alone prove he deserves this medal; his determined campaign to install a Rothschild-run central bank in said country is, as Americans say, just ‘the icing on top of the cake’ - good, of course, for the half million of us who are already incredibly rich but very very bad for the roughly seven billion other sad cunts alive today.” Due to an apparent scheduling conflict related to his efforts to help a buddy get into office too, the current Ynki president regrets to announce he will be accepting his ‘War Prize’ via an appointed peon.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

one free pony

Early this morning, at a performing arts center in rural northwestern New Mexico, all four major candidates vying for president of the United States of America decided to cancel their runs. Citing the absurdity of even thinking about trying to govern a people concerned primarily with the fulfilment of immediate bodily needs and pleasures, the breadth and scope of systemic corruption in politics and industry, as well as the horrors inflicted by the nation’s various police departments upon innocent persons of color, the campaigns of Don Trump, Doctor Jill Stein, Governor Gary Johnson, and Secretary Hillary Clinton threw in the towel - simultaneously and independently of one another. The remaining candidate appears to be Vermin Supreme, who wears a boot for a hat and promises each American one (1) free pony. “Maybe that’s what this country needs, a complete outside whose entire platform is built on apparent and hilarious insanity,” said Rheinhold F. Hannikken, former staff member of one of the campaigns. Then, he dug a cigarette out of his pack to give to Mrs. Clinton, who nodded in thanks before returning to the cluster of other candidates sitting on a some small boulders piled up against a storage shed. After each of the former candidates had taken a pull off of the smoke, he or she got up, said a brief farewell, and shuffled aimlessly off in the general direction of the setting sun.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

good at mouth

This one will be short and this one will be brief - three cheers for our goddess Denta of the Teeth! Her tools are tongue scraper and toothbrush and floss; of wisdom’s rear molars she’s long been the boss; she rewards each person who’s good at mouth-cleaning by helping him live a long life filled with meaning. Now lift up those bristles that mouthwash raise high in hopes that our tooth-loving goddess will spy these good daily efforts with which we do hope to reach the smooth side of life’s slippery slope.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

laughter just one

She’d bring hope in segments - one scrap at a time - then sit back to watch her good work there unwind. At first it was laughter just one or two bits that soon led to everyone balled up in fits. Second she sent fuzzies to warm and delight that did seem to linger most all through the night. Third it was deep restfulness during which she’d tend to each and every hurt thirst want and need. Her labors completed she would hurry back to perch in her high-mountain chilling-time shack and wait there for the crack of next morning’s dawn when back down amongst us she’ll hurry and come.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

now forthwith today

Dear Ynki: stop funding extreme little factions that perpetrate violent and deadly actions. We’re sick of you meddling in foreign affairs whilst maintaining your false and presumptive airs; your business is between your own borders only not out here supporting wars as some call holy. Roll back your war machine and fire the brass and please do so quickly to prove you’ve got class; the world it is reeling from criminal dealings used by you to force upon others your feelings of inadequacy and helplessness too - just look at all of the cruel things that you do. You claim to want but to help and to aid but if that is true sip more of your Kool-Aide for nearly all actions you’ve done in the past have had dire outcomes (think shell- and bomb-blast). Your elections will be another sick farce of bullshit comparisons ‘twixt bitch and arse - please deal with your own probs before lecturing us on how we must alter this or that thing. This missive won’t impact upon Ynki’s mind; for too long he’s been by war-making defined; for too long his angry and aggressive bent has seen untold gallons of good lifeblood spent. Grigovians though have seen enough of killing and enough of plutocrats’ smoke-filled-room dealings; we demand an end to these bunk Ynki ways not soon or next year but now forthwith today.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

now and swiftly

To combat the dangers of crime and of stealing we’ve crafted some unique solutions for dealing with persons who appear to gain pleasure from absconding with precious items and cash sums. First we teach our children that nothing is theirs, that kids are happier when they give and share; we then reinforce this by assisting they who request our help on a money-short day. We barter with labor and barter with goods and barter with things that we picked in the woods and thus we avoid the trap that many feel when wondering whence might come their next hot meal. Few doors remained locked for long due to this lesson: worry less and donate unwanted possessions to a local shelter or kids’ charity then bask in the warmth of true humanity. By helping out others when they need it most and acting the part of a welcoming host we create communities healthy and vibrant without using methods reserved but for tyrants such as police forces or too many laws (therefore Grigovia garners much applause). We here are anarchists and raise our kids thus - we teach them to care less for wealth or for stuff; we cultivate in them such notions, you see, as kindness openness goodness charity. The sick receive care here the homeless some shelter the weak and downtrodden a sound timely helper (if this should sound like your own hot cup of tea then make for Grigovia now and swiftly).

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

Ξ¥=∏ЇƟЇ∏=¥Ξ

we sit here and play like we did in the past and both of us know that this fun cannot last

wont to weather

Now hear this brief fable, this conjuring mine, about sheep led by wolfs and governed by swine. Each sheep believed he had to buy his own house; and live separated from those of his flock; and choose just one other whom to call his spouse; and build up equity; and punch a timeclock. His grandfather’s systems did help him get wealthy and helped keep his little ones fleeced out and healthy but then swine took power and grabbed up the loot - for him and his kinfolk they gave not a hoot. The wolves then declared war for no solid reason and dragged that war on for innumerable seasons until the poor sheep and his poor kinfolk they were fully bled out and could no longer pay. The wolves and swine then said: ‘Just look what you’ve done! Where there was once bounty now there isn’t none! You and your weak siblings did drain this land dry!’ and so forth did go on their blame-shifting cry. The sheep had no means wit or motivation to defend his lowly and weak position; he bent to the grindstone and labored some more in hopes of making things as they were before. His freedoms were gone though as were all the funds for the pigs had eaten up every last crumb and the dogs had spent every nickel on killing wherefore there was not left e’en one single shilling. The thieves then sat back and watched the sheep-folk toil to coax a few weeds from the much-poisoned soil and laughed at their labors and laughed at their tears and kept right on laughing for many more years. Great numbers of sheep were thus turned into slaves their offspring did fill up the warmongers’ graves and though sheep are mighty when they work together there’s not much alone that they are wont to weather; they lived on in slavery until at last each one of them let out his ultimate gasp and died so that others might live well instead with blood-thirsty greediness stuck in the head.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

our foundations lean

This here is our mantra this here is our verse - there’s nothing that beats the power of the purse. In order to avoid the bane of corruption Grigovia won’t sanction much regulation of foodstuffs or services, cars or clothing - we allow the market to handle such things. If local bank houses should be poised to fail our government doesn’t get ready to bail - instead it sits back and chooses to relax then nature dictates which house should get the ax. If crime or malfeasance is clearly rife though we won’t hesitate to let dark colors show - we’ll punish the parties or persons who dare to cheat others out of proportionate share. Such punishment might take the form of a fine or in severe cases a spell of jail-time but such extreme measures as assigning blame are not part of our standard governing game. For most part all is fair we don’t intervene it’s upon liberty our foundations lean which means that now more than anytime before this ancient rule applies: caveat emptor.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

leap and frolic

Her temple’s a cubby or similar nook done up with white fabric and at least one book into which is then placed a candy or two a lit stick of incense and one ribbon (blue). Do reuse the ribbon (the goddess won’t mind so long as if too frayed it’s replaced in kind) and keep clean this space - it’s a thought-arena endowed to her majesty Nuuzstathena. From such a small space she’s been known to lend aid upon persons who to her prayers just made as well as to others who know of her not who never turned to her a moment of thought. Impartial and courteous, truthful and still, she helps us to swallow life’s more bitter pills she treats all us humans as objects of love which she does watch over from her perch above. With chant and bell-ringing with dance and with song her followers prance leap and frolic along their voices adoring their ribbons unfurled to share her good teachings with all of the world.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

him a joke

Him whorphan love conflict love charging headlong with heart bright and buoyant with throat screaming song. Him love look at girlies him too shy to talk him rather go alone on favorite walk around big big city until foot should make a terrible torment a terrible ache. Him whorphan love trolling the Internets most one eye peeled for falsehood one peeled for a ghost that puts on a hood made of hatred and lies that speweth forth anger from them beady eyes. He make him a joke out of most everything he trust in the goddess she with the black wing made up of the tendrils that see and that claw the most fearful woman he ever did saw. To home this here whorphan will surely return the lessons and beauty of Bali to learn he just need him cashflow to get bigger fast a noble and tricksy much difficult task.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

slick and relentless

Our systems are scanning they’ve made a detection and as we have feared it’s a true missed erection. Oh my what is that thing? Oh yeah, never mind - it’s just a fine plump and quite rotund behind a wonder to behold a beautiful thing that for some sweet action does seem to be lusting. Is this shlong still hard or must I pause to wait and walk with a bow legged cowboy-like gait to keep them from pinching these pendulous balls the source of much praise and ovative applause.? A meteor’s coming! There’s dire climate change! A fool does harangue us with hatred and rage! Hot dog this girl’s ready and willing at that so long as I strap on a tight jimmy-hat. Keep just her in mind and don’t dare criticize the wars greed and stealing the sadness and lies - if there is one constant in this election it’s steady slick and relentless misdirection.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

government regulates walking

Following a rash of locomotion-related injuries, the U.S. Department of Health proposed new laws to govern how and how quickly the American people should be allowed to walk. “Thousands of citizens are injured each year when they moving their bodies through this temporal realm at an increased speed without paying enough attention to where they are going,” said Hennrick Thallumann-Errins, the agency’s deputy director of public relations. “Once Congress passes provisional bill ST2240 b.d4, individuals who walk, run, jog, or otherwise move about in such a manner as to potentially harm themselves will face fines no greater than five hundred dollars or fourteen days in jail, per incident.” Walking occurs when a human’s upper body begins to fall forward but then catches itself with the legs, one after another, thus propelling it in a direction of the mind’s choosing. “The American people don’t seem to know how to get around on foot without running into household objects, tripping over curbs, stepping on errant rocks, or otherwise hurting themselves,” said Dr. Wilmina F. Fitzcharles, a gait specialist at the University of St. Stipan in Des Moines, Iowa, who was not directly involved with the proposed legislation. “Hopefully, these pending measures will ensure that people spend absolutely every iota of their brains’ attentive capacity on the act of walking, an act fraught with danger.” Legislation is being drafted to punish citizens who cannot perform similar daily tasks well, such as bathing, breathing, and swallowing. Due to the apparent absurdity of the laws mentioned above, most civil rights groups contacted for this story failed to comment.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

for-profit crosswalk

Tallahassee, Florida, made history today by switching on America’s first commercial road-traversing-assistance system. Composed of a pair of lights - red for ‘stop’ and green for ‘go’ - mounted atop a metal pole that has a credit-card reader bolted to it for processing payments, the system regulates foot-bound traffic across the eight-lane intersection at Sherman and Main Boulevards. With three strip-malls and two long-term elderly care centers, the intersection was apparently chosen for its potential to generate profits. “Following numerous complaints submitted by motor-vehicle operators apparently tired of waiting for slow-moving citizens to shuffle across this intersection at their own pace, we of the Tallahassee city council wisely decided to install this system,” said Ernesto Wainbight, the city’s deputy mayor. Manufactured by Assisted Crossing Inc. (ACI), from Atlanta, Georgia, the system charges pedestrians $2.50 for each crossing, a bargain according to company CEO Wendell F. Graus. “No driver I know is happy to see his way barred to allow some penniless walker to safely negotiate a busy intersection. And, with ACI’s new mobile-phone application, pedestrians in the process of negotiating the aforementioned intersection can now buy more time to cross the road, should they need it.” Each additional dollar spent extends a person’s crossing time by 30 seconds. Civil rights groups around the nation have criticized the move, claiming that it discriminates against persons who choose to change the temporal positions of their bodies using their own physical power, infringing upon their legal right to freedom of movement. “Foot-mobile citizens should be delighted that the price of a service they too long took for granted costs roughly the same as a cup of gourmet coffee,” Mr. Graus continued. “Nothing’s free in this life, especially not convenience, locomotion, or safety.” Eighty percent of the profits generated by the new system will be used to enrich the executive staff of ACI, whereas the additional twenty percent will fill the city council’s slush fund.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

Grigovia boycotts competition

Anyone watching the Mundi Venatus (an international festival of sportsmanship being held this year in Brazil) will notice the glaring omission of Grigovian gymnasts. Long hailed as one of the best overall teams to grace the world stage in recent decades, athletes and parathletes representing the Glorious Republic of Grigovia are for the fifth time staging a boycott of this purportedly highest level of competition. Their reasons for staying away include America’s continued and illegal killing of innocent civilians using armed unmanned aerial systems as well as recent leaks that highlight the corruption and greed endemic within the event organizers’ highest ranks. “We would of course love to participate,” said 16 year-old balance-beam specialist Ghreiya Yastyend, “but in protest of longstanding, inhumane Ynki brutality against our Afghani neighbors, we shall not attend.” Speaking from the media center of the sprawling National Gymnastic Sports campus in suburban Grig, the nation’s capital, other members of the Grigovian team gave similar reasons for staying away. “We boycott the Mundi Venatus out of principle,” said Dr. Heira Glougagon, head trainer of the men’s team. “The committee that runs it is made up of individuals who care more about personal enrichment than human life, who are indifferent to the destruction and destitution some of the nations hosting their event inflict upon helpless populations.” Joining Grigovia in their boycott of the Ludi Mundi are the Principality of Liechtenstein, the Jewish Independent Oblast, and the Islamic Republic of Iran.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

French ban crosses

In an emergency session of Parliament yesterday the legislative body of the French Republic announced a nationwide ban on religious symbolism. “Here in this glorious land, the birthplace of Avril Lavigne, it is henceforth forbidden to display any kind of religious symbol in a public place,” said Lorellayi Cheattou, deputy minister of the interior. “No longer shall the ankh, cross, evil eye, ohm symbol, star of David, star and crescent, dharmachakra (Buddhist wheel), or praying hands be allowed to potentially offend the sensitivities of onlookers by dangling on chains or other such contraptions from the necks of peaceable people.” Civil rights groups around the world immediately condemned the new law, calling it a crime against humanity because it robs people of the freedoms of religion and expression. “Given the spate of attacks carried out recently by ardent extremists, the secular paradise that is modern France cannot afford to have anyone become excited by the sight of any symbol or symbols that could even potentially cause them to become aroused,” said AnLuise Heimer-Guizou, the sitting president’s chief of staff. “Sécurité, conformité, asservissement. Whether by bootheel or riflebutt, calm shall be enforced to give the French people the peace they want.”

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

such unending blessings

The faces swept past and the toys piled up and deep we did drink from the rim of life’s cup and up he went swiftly on rides’ metal beams and bright ‘pon his face shone the heat of his dreams. I spent time and money shall gladly again treat him in the manner of a darling friend and teach him a lesson while waiting our turn about how another man’s respect to earn. It’s swell to be with him and learning his ways I cherish these our few last remaining days and hope to stay loyal to those ancient lessons that bestow upon us such unending blessings.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

letters and arts

Only time will tell if this gobbledegook will have had the power this world to have shook. Ich muss deshalb schreiben und das jeden Tag egal ob ich Zeit hab egal ob ich mag. For that I need focus and visual charts to help keep me sharp in the letters and arts. Ja gut ich bin sieben mal sieben mal zehn und alles was ist wird schnell genug vergehen.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

on craving Kiefer’s Kefirs

There isn’t much in the far reaches of Earth that swells man with passion and fills him with mirth as a Kiefer’s Kefir fresh from the refridge - it’s swell for all ages from grandfolks to kids. Featuring fine flavors like berry and herb in tubs separated according to curd in batches fermented buried underground his Kefirs are the best that you’ll find around. The Kiefer himself oversees each last straining to make sure there won’t be customers complaining he’ll tweak fiddle mess with them throughout the night until he is sure they are completely right. If not in the boardroom he’s out in the fields broadcasting fresh-cut grass to boost his cows’ yields then back he’ll rush quickly to handle affairs that require breathing those Hollywood airs. His milks they make headlines from here to the coast of many gold medals he is proud to boast he’s risen far above his earthly-born station and that on the back of lactose fermentation. Just who is this genius with all the big plans? It’s the homie Kiefer ‘Top Dog’ Sutherland.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

tail and run

Our leaders are scumbags our cops break the law our money’s worth little our glaciers have thawed we poison the waters and dig up the land the sinister killing the dexterous hand. Huge banks receive trillions of dollars to stay afloat open solvent for a few more days the Army’s lost trillions too oh what a bummer but hey listen to this feel-good song for summer. Let’s fiddle along as the whole structure burns and be done with worry and doubt and concern instead lining up with our jackboots on tight with blood set to boil with torches alight. America’s bounty must not be spread out to hardworking peons and upstanding louts - it’s that of the elite who sit at the top who’ve found in taxpayers a sure source to tap who milk and who bilk us then turn tail and run to where they have hidden their wrongly gained sums. If this standard business continues apace there won’t be much left here on Earth for our race but paved-over wetlands but clouds of sour rain but legions of innocents suffering pain. To return to balance most us of must die (at least sixty percent if not eighty-five) whether from starvation or terror event - Mom Nature won’t rest ‘til her full wrath is spent. Sleep well in this knowledge do not get upset for there is some hope and promise for us yet provided we turn from our self-centered ways in these next few shallow and woebegone days.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

clad in black

Ron Bleibfest, former police chief of Willow Grove (AK) and current chairman of the Police Officers Regional & National Union (PORNU) addressed a group of reporters today to speak on recent controversies surrounding statements attributed to his organization. “We at Reggie Nash think that America should be as safe as possible,” he said whilst standing in the parking lot of an events hall somewhere near Baton Rouge, Louisiana. “Statistically speaking, people of Arab descent carry out more terrorist attacks than any other group, worldwide, as we have stated correctly. It makes sense, therefore, for we concerned citizens to monitor them and control their movements here at home, which is why, even if it makes us unpopular, PORNU supports the policies in question and stands behind the statements made.” A dozen men clad in black riot gear emerged from an unmarked van parked nearby, to form a phalanx behind Mr. Bleibfest. Armed with automatic rifles and wearing balaclavas, their name tags had been blacked using tape, as had the reference numbers on their shields. Mr. Bleibfest then shouted at dishwasher Luis Rodriguez, who was walking past on the way to a workshift, yelling at him to “Back up” and not “crowd me.” One of the masked agents immediately battered Mr. Rodriguez, grabbing him by the upper arm and yanking him backward. Not having seen his assailant, Mr. Rodriguez tried to pull away, after which he was forced to the ground by a half dozen officers shouting at him to “Stop resisting.” He was shot with a less-than-lethal device, maced, handcuffed, then taken to a waiting cruiser. “That man was clearly resisting arrest, which in a safe America cannot be tolerated,” Mr. Bleibfest proclaimed, chuckling with apparent joy. Warily, Regina Stockmight of the Southern Regional Journal, Jackson (MS) said, “The frequency of encounters in which police officers have shot unarmed individuals appears to be increasing. Do you think this is because police officers are acting more violently during roadside encounters, or that there are more people with cameras recording merely isolated incidents?” “Is that a weapon?” Ron then yelled, recoiling from the recording device the young lady was pointing at him. “I think she’s got a gun!” At the mention of the word gun, almost all of the blacked-out officers raised their weapons, with one of them firing a high-velocity round into the midsection of Ms. Stockmight. The fresh hole in her spine caused her to crumble to the ground. The agent who fired the round began to cry, whereupon one of his colleagues moved over to comfort him, stepping through the pooling blood and over the twitching body of Mrs. Stockmight. “That woman appeared to have a weapon, which caused me to fear for my life,” Mr. Bleibfest said, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Therefore, her shooting was justified, as in a safe America police officers must be able to protect their own lives - at all cost and regardless of the health and safety of anyone who’s not a police officer. Let’s thank the brave, selfless men standing behind me today for protecting us from the type of dangerous and criminal elements that are threatening to tear this country apart.” Fifteen minutes later, an ambulance showed up to collect the dead body, and to treat the wounded hands of police officers who had spent the intervening minutes beating a few of the camera operators - for loitering.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

in our stead

None watch as she stumbles her back brilliant red from all of the lashes she takes in our stead. Her torch lays extinguished her rays bend askew her sash is in tatters she’s lost both her shoes her crown is well tarnished and the spark is gone from where in her visage it lived for so long. Then hounded assaulted and met on all sides is how Lady Liberty in the end dies should those who’re now living in the U.S.A. not come to her side and defend her today.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

a rowdy din

The human he loves him a good diversion, be it book sex running or television; that last one’s the worst for it pulls a soul in spellbinding with colors and a rowdy din. All plans and hopes crumble when its screen doth flash and hours are spent without bringing in cash and hours are spent with bum glued to the couch for lack of much movement one becomes a grouch. The cure is to jettison and throw away that T.V. set - not soon but now here today - and hone skills like just how to tell a story which must be done slowly not sped up or hurried. At least please don’t talk about shows that are good or how others simply must watch them and should get caught up on all of the action that blares between spots for companies selling their wares. The T.V. set cuts people off from their peers and keeps them divided for years upon years, and helps them think that talking heads tell the truth or that there were others besides John Wilkes Booth. So shut it off please at least but for a while and watch how your body responds with a smile and watch then your brain activate and reboot when vanished is that which is wasteful at root.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

dark & discreet

To fascist drumbeaters like Trump and Le Pen: we’re not at all surprised to see you again. Not more than a century back in the past was when we encountered and beat you at last but you showed up here in our calm midst again with confidence saying who’s foe and who’s friend. The masses you fool with a message of hate and promises to make brown folks emigrate but once wed with power corrupted you’ll be will drench in blood these shores from sea back to sea. Now fear stokes a fire that only is fed by listening to voices up in the head that champion anger and champion spite corrupting the ego both morning and night. This will not end pretty this will not end well and soon we’ll be swept into a right-wing hell where anyone who dares to strike or speak up will quick taste the heel of a jack-booted thug. With basic rhetoric and too-simple terms these wax-paper leaders the principles spurn upon which their nations long functioned and turned aloof to the lessons that history learns. So up now in unison we can defeat most any opponent or foe we might meet with methods bold brash brazen dark & discreet be it through the wires or out in the street. All antifa red-shirts anarchists and such who value their freedoms and value them much: let’s shake off the shackles of madness and hate and that without dally lest we be too late.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

Grigovia initiates union

On Tuesday, the Grigovian Council on Foreign Affairs and Interaction opened its application subcommittee to states, self-proclaimed territories, and separatist movements (from any region or people intent on gaining official sovereignty). To qualify, parties must prove their economy is fair-trade and that their foreign policy is attuned to peace rather than conflict, the principles of anarchic self-determinism rather than autocratic hegemony. Prospective candidates for inclusion are Indonesia, Iceland, Liechtenstein, and Andorra, among a few others, as they pretty much mind their own peace-loving business. Countries who must alter their ways before entry include the United Kingdom, the United States of America, and the Russian Federation, among others, as they tend to inflict their will upon peaceful peoples violently.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

nary a rut

If not in the heights of the mountains he prowls up there with the bears and the squirrels and owls where thin winds blow strongly and fire’s a threat then down to the flatlands and cities he’ll get. A good steed beneath him and food in his gut leaving not a wrapper and nary a rut, the smog-sled gets whirring and miles fly by while above does turn that bright star in its sky. The tools for the camping lie hidden beyond the gate where jet flight its first real tests won down here in the city though La Cieg and 3rd there’s steel and stone plenty but not many birds.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

some a too

Just what did she want to get into in life except being free of want hatred and strife? Was hers a wrong pathway or was it all right to spend her time wondering morning to night that she wasn't living up to her true worth to all the conditions set out at her birth? Questions may have answers but these won't be met at least not today or not soon and not yet for this path is crooked this white is tarnished – to some a too bitter and not tasteful dish.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

short teaching rhyme

When off on adventure when on walk-about it's wise to be vigilant inside and out. Do copy the customs of people that pass do bow to the statues and stay off the grass do help out the needy and wait for one's turn but do not give in when the ego's a-churn. By acting unlike a lame boorish tourist one might just gain access to what others miss and speak with a local or share a brief smile out here on these lovely and sun-dappled miles. By saying but little and letting things pass one might just gain memories, ones that will last, instead of just barging and barreling past all of the beauty and grace of this plane that never no never will occur again. So sit still be silent and cat-like just lounge while all of the others do hurry and scrounge for pixels and snapshots for souvenirs base while bustling quickly from this to that place. Right here is the moment right now is the time and so comes to end this here short teaching rhyme – huzzah for the warm bloods that course through my veins and for what by silence the open heart gains.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

her untarnished sword

Straight back to her warrens straight back to the source was where she would flee as a matter of course. With passions inflamed and a fire within she'd ratchet back fury and then soon begin to douse soothe and quiet with white stillness pure while hoping thus peacefulness long to ensure. Now out of this practice did emerge a path to lessen the sting and the bite of her wrath and usher in peacefulness there at her very core returning to silent compassion once more. When seeing the nothingness shine from her face her enemies quick for their redoubts would race abandoning their plans to upset her seat concerned but for themselves and their living meat. She rose from the ashes of unconquered Grig where little was moving chicken nor pig and pulled from the rubble her untarnished sword and uttered these hallowed legendary words: 'Good riddance invaders who now scamper forth we've proved to them today our true stalwart worth and saved our city and our precious lands from those foul rapacious those far-roving bands. Now pick up a shovel and help mend these walls and help now rebuild these vaulted meeting-halls and look not to vengeance but always to peace – there's no point in us too becoming such beasts. We praise Nuuzstathena and thank her anon for helping to ensure this battle was won and ask for her blessing upon those to come we humble Grigovians standing as one.' With that rose a cry from the gathering crowd of men dressed in rags and of women in shrouds who turned to their labors with much studied grace – huzzah for this high-mountain and hardy race!

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

answer the beck

The sun in his glory the moon with her pull the heart cleared and empty the tight belly full the watchers in place and the mouth good and shut is what for believers a good life's about. It's not about piling up riches and gems or dividing people twixt the us and thems – it's about compassion and surrendering to the forces and powers unseen around you. The gods they are watching and we are the gods and nothing can even the weight of the odds and no single action can bring about peace for it must be practiced each day month and week. There's no grand finale no sudden insight that can bring us seekers back into the light for we must be prudent and set aside space to witness the absolute at its own pace. With mouths shut and silent and egos in check and evil within us reduced to a speck we enter that moment where death cannot reach the void from which nothingness might teach might preach. So off to the su'uvyiet Grigovians all to answer the beck and to answer the call of Wu and its power to Wu and its light that drives out mind-demons that ushers in light. A great stillness mounting will settle the score with all of the sadness that we've known before and bring back the balance that we tend to lose when strong and incessant is ego's abuse.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

writing and riding

We are at the start of another new year – it's one of the monkey and one of good cheer. The last one is over we sit here silent and pray that the demons' foul energies went up over this island and missed us again we Balinese women and stout Western men. The yoga is over, meditation soon – for dealing with structures that threaten to ruin the course of this whorphan the course of E'e E'e this one who loves writing and riding the sea. Next to him are Frenchmen their chatter is daft before him's a future both tranquil and vast for he's on the cusp of a big changing time and all of his chips pile up on the line. With daily traditions he can alter course and make some things better hopefully none worse and rise from the ashes of all of the fears that have plagued and battered him lo' these long years. By keeping a witness in the seven nodes he plans to uproot and throw out many loads of energies stagnant and energies foul and mirror the wisdom of Athena's owl. The sun it has set now the land it is dark he can but hear scattered mechanical barks above him is bat stork and a night-hawk too – huzzah for this starting afresh and anew!

© americanifesto / 場黑麥