a bird, apparently

[above] sticker graffiti street art found 2017 in Fishtown, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, that depicts an appealing cartoon bird and these decipherable alphanumerics: goest
[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]

foreigners gain liberty

In what some are calling a dire blow to America’s cultural heritage, the White House today approved a controversial deal to sell the property known as Independence National Historical Park to a consortium owned in part by investors from Saudi Arabia and Macau. “We’re excited to maximize the profit potential of our new investment,” said Ibn Faik alMaz’zoud, spokesperson for the consortium, speaking from the steps of the former government property, in downtown Philadelphia. “Entrance fees to the site will rise in accordance with increased security and a shared desire to keep out all but the best and most economically-viable visitors.”

Other historical sites up for sale are the Gettysburg battlefield in central Pennsylvania, George Washington’s birthplace in Virginia, as well as Battery Park in New York City. Various monuments in country’s western states are being considered for increased ore and mineral extraction, to the delight of lobbying groups and mining companies hungry to profit from the sale of soil-bound resources, which since the nation’s inception have belonged to all Americans, equally.

“We can’t have this stuff just sitting around costing America money,” said a White House staffer speaking (leaking) on condition of anonymity. “The more we can shift upkeep, tour guiding, maintenance, hauling, and extraction tasks to corporations - foreign or domestic, it’s all the same - the more cash America will have on hand to do things like launch cruise missile strikes on Syrian villages and give tax breaks to wealthy citizens.”

americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan

someone else now

We left early Sunday morning, just after dawn. The drive to the station was uneventful, and we arrived with a half hour to spare before our train departed. Each of us had a few discs with him, enough to play at least 18 holes. I ate first, and so they kicked in for me first, but one of the other guys ate more and therefore felt a heavier initial surge. Thankfully, we weren’t in the quiet car, because our giggles came on strong enough to make heads turn. By the time the train reached the City of Brotherly Love (and Sisterly Affection), our pupils were dinner plates greedily sucking up stray photons. We climbed up into the 30th Street station and paused briefly to marvel in wonder at its vaulted ceiling and vast marbled-clad spaces. Mere feet from the doors to the outside, the other two decided they needed to find a restroom, whereupon they went to relieve themselves. I waited for them in the hallway near the bathroom and pretended to peruse a restaurant menu while the world around me quietly exploded.

Then we were out in the wind and in the sun with our phones out trying to open applications and figure out how to get visual maps and audio guides going that would lead us to our first destination - the Sedgley Woods disc golf course. We walked, of course, following the river until we hit a police roadblock at a major intersection. At that point we turned north and left the course of the river, climbing a hill and following a shady tree-shaded trail that lead along crumbling old walls. At the top of the hill, in the middle of a field, sat a lone camping tent, which we decided not to enter. Then we almost got killed crossing a major road intersection that didn’t have a pedestrian crosswalk, climbed another hill, made a left, and arrived at our destination. We hadn’t barely figured out how to approach the first tee yet when we met a pair of local guides, two gentlemen who were smoking cabbage and knew the lay of the land. After playing 27 short holes together on the wooden urban course, we took their advice and went for fried chicken at the gas station across the road, which we ate with them, breaking bread together on a rotting park bench under a struggling tree.

With not a minute to spare we arrived at our second destination, a hip brewery in Fishtown. After touring it, I went out to photograph graffiti while my friends stayed inside and kept drinking. Once I was finished we exited into the hot afternoon sun and started for a gin distillery nearby. Along the way we ate more, of course, finishing the bag. At the gin mill we were sipping death in the afternoon when the second round kicked in, prompting us to head for the next brewery. And then the next. The day got sweaty, what with one of us hauling around two filled growlers and another of us trying to enter each abandoned building we passed along the way. We were having a bit of trouble fitting into society but finally made it back to the station with fewer than five minutes to spare, only to find that our train was delayed indefinitely. It left 45 minutes late, long enough for us to fully appreciate each contour of a gorgeous marble panel named The Spirit of Transportation (1895), by Karl Bitter, and for me to get a girl’s contact information.

She’s seeing someone else now, by the way.

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥

on slavery by capitalism

  We, the people of America who are not enslaved to watching television or participating in fabricated national shopping rituals, we must somehow help the 152 million people who went out to shop on the fake ritual of "Black Friday," a non-holiday that was created to rob the People of their hard-earned greenbacks.

  How do we help these people, and free them from their self-imposed, self-bought slavery?

Ultima Ratio Regum - 場黑麥 John Paul Roggenkamp