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