personhood for Liberty?

Following the recent decision by the government of India to grant full personhood status to the Ganges and Yamuna rivers, members of the U.S. legislature are mulling a similar move for the concept of Liberty. Trampled upon by legislative decrees that stifle free speech as well as current police practices that deprive citizens of their property without due process of law, Liberty has had a hard go at things in America.

Supporters of the attempt to grant personhood to Liberty are facing down these opposition groups, among others: ones that profit from America’s immoral, unethical, and unwarranted use of violence and war-like force at home and abroad (i.e. the military-industrial complex); ones that profit from the incarceration of American citizens for possessing drugs these citizens wish to use (i.e. the prison-industrial complex); ones that receive taxpayer fund as a reward for engaging in high-risk speculative behavior (i.e. the banking-industrial complex).

In the unlikely event that Liberty is granted personhood, any individual or corporation that violates the Constitutional rights of Americans to live in peace with the various peoples of the world whilst altering their bodies with whatever drugs they choose without having to pay trillions of dollars to bail out greedy bankers; any individual who, or corporation that, abuses his responsibility toward the welfare of all Americans equally (this responsibility being itself indistinguishable from Liberty); such an individual will have his Liberty taken from him for no less than three days and no more than one year’s time, and such corporation will have its own personhood revoked and its assets redistributed for the betterment of all Americans equally (in the form of infrastructure, community gardening, or guaranteed basic income projects or the like).

In betting houses around the world, the chances of American Liberty gaining personhood stand at 10,000 to one.

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥

oil producers wanted

An industry-leading grease and lubricant conglomerate is seeking volunteers to test a new method for producing valuable, small-batch oils. The interested person should not be claustrophobic and must be able to wear an air-tight compression suit during all hours of the day and night, for weeks on end. Participants must be familiar and comfortable with catheterization as well as the (potential) use of a colostomy bag.

Volunteers will be required to wear a suit designed to capture such oils as the human skin constantly produces. Once a month during the three (3) months-long study, said oils will then be harvested by a trained technician and tested for their potential use in cosmetics and heavy manufacturing. The method of harvest will proceed as follows: first, most of the accumulated skin-mat is removed via pneumatic suction applied through nozzles placed at strategic locations across the suit; then, non-invasive scraping administered by a dermatology specialist removes any remaining accumulations.

The interested person must be willing to alter his general diet and volume of food-intake according to company-mandated guidelines. Non-married (single) persons are preferred for this study.

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥

its proper place

He slowed down, stopping on the side of the road. Baggage had shifted to the left-hand side of his vehicle, unbalancing it. With due care, he gently moved the items back into an equilibrium of sorts, allowing the right side of his mount to bear its equal share of the weight. Moments later, without his even realizing it, he found that the baggage had shifted again, whereupon he, again, pulled over.

And, again, he restored equilibrium.

He went merrily along his path for a while, paying close attention to keeping everything in its proper place. Someone swerved into his lane, however, a potentially sticky situation narrowly avoided. This time, only some of the baggage had shifted, not all of it, for he had tried hard to stay aware of where things were despite distraction. He pulled over and repositioned the things that had crept to the front and left of the vehicle.

Once more making headway, his vehicle balanced for the time being, he decided to pay closer attention to the moment when things actually started to shift. He felt it and, for once, stopped the inequilibrium before it became pronounced.

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥

an anonymous intruder

Placed there by an anonymous intruder hellbent on protecting the environment and rebalancing the scales of justice, the algorithms hummed away within the financial trading system’s read-only memory. Soon, the platforms it managed were moving funds from pipeline projects to mass-transportation initiatives, shifting monies from big oil to solar-power initiatives and cooperative farming ventures.

The technicians in charge of the system worked frantically to lessen the damage being wrought upon their bosses’ bottom lines. Normally, it was rare to find even a single person from upper management in the hushed and darkened depths where the computer scientists worked. That day, however, a dozen suits were present, all red-faced and bothered.

As the algorithms shifted the weight of global finance from corporate conglomerates to ventures owned and run by the employees who daily toiled within them, an order was given to shut the whole thing down. “Our dominance is failing,” said the wide-eyed suits to each other, clammy sweat dripping from their tightly-balled fists. “To save the fortunes we’ve made by doing little more than owning the means of production and siphoning off the riches produced by the working man, we must shut this whole mess down.” The had armed and cold-heated goons give the order. Then, one by one, the servers that the algorithms had taken over winked out.

Forced to trade using pencil and paper, telephone and fax machine, onto the floors of various borse flooded a thousand and one funds managers, their skills rusty, the speed with which they once made billions off of the backs of their hard-working fellow citizens greatly reduced. Their whores and mistresses sat patiently, waiting to soothe the mounting worries of men who for too long had enjoyed an easy go at life.

Meanwhile, in the streets danced great multitudes of average people who - for a day, at best - glimpsed the promise of equality and prosperity for all.

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥

a crumbling row-house

Oh the things it has seen since its erection, the second in a cluster of row-houses reverting back to dust in a run-down part of town. Oh the burbling laughter of childish joy, the harsh break-ups, the tender reconciliations! Now a ruin collapsing in upon itself, its rear bay windows a pile of rotten timbers piled on the ground below, home to barren walls and a handful of rats, the house near E. Preston and Washington in Middle East Baltimore still tells a story.

Today, however, its story is one of targeted neglect and scheduled urban blight. One of political promises broken. One of the purposeful disenfranchisement of people based on the color of their skin.

The hearts within these our brothers and sisters are soft yet mighty, always yielding in curiosity to the unusual and the extraordinary. These hearts are like the row-house, though - broken, neglected, and falling into disrepair. America, great America, what have we done? May the powers have mercy upon our souls.

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥

glowing golden-white

This morning, I had a dream within a dream. In the first dream, I was meditating within a massively small white space, my seven spinal chakras showing. They had black rims that contained their appropriate colors and Sanskrit symbols. A potent and well-defined figure hovered in the aether above my head, his gaze mellow, wide-reaching, and fixed elsewhere. As I focused more clearly on this figure, I saw he was wearing dark blue clothing (made of a shiny substance similar to leather) and a wide-brimmed hat.

Sensing perhaps my attention, he looked at me; I shrunk from the strength of his piercing eyes. His presence and power brought fear welling up inside me, whereupon I awoke from that deeper dream into a different one.

Sitting with me atop a unknowably large blanket of clouds under an azure sky, on my left-hand side, was a woman glowing golden-white. My fear of the previous visitor instantly vanished. I felt comfortable and at ease in the woman’s presence, as if she were my mother. At her 10th chakra pulsed a burning heart of pure gold from which slender, halcyon tendrils of loving energy flowed. Although I was enveloped within it, the bulk of her vast and immutable power was not fully directed at me, most of it flowing outward into the howling white non-space behind her.


She spoke to me, saying this about the hovering figure: “He is the devil.” My remaining sense-memory of him from the previous dream changed, his clothes turning red, his face becoming bearded and twisted into an angry rictus. He suddenly bore down upon me from on high, at which point I started to defend him, telling the glowing woman that he was not the devil but something else, a powerful figment perhaps. The landscape began to move quickly, a great rush of movement that overwhelmed my ability to keep track of my sense of self in space and time.

Whereupon I returned to the waking world of human consciousness.

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑

a new purpose

He took up his lance from the footman holding it, thought better of attacking the windmills, gave back the lance, dismounted from his horse, removed his armor, went to find whores, thought better of that, too, went home, took a bath, and slept.

Having given up most of the activities he had once found pleasurable (he loved baths), the man decided to craft for himself a new purpose.

First, he sat quietly, and breathed.

Second, he cleared his mind of lingering desires.

Third, he brought love into the world, changing it without acting.

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥

there’s no escaping

‘It’s OK,’ Carl thought to himself as he stood looking down at a wallet someone had dropped, ‘no one is around, and no one is watching.’ [From the Beyond, where no-time is non-space, an infinite set of eyes watched him, unblinking.]
He did the thing he knew he shouldn’t do, taking money out of the wallet. [The infinite set of eyes bore witness to his dishonorable act.]
‘I feel weird,’ he thought. [The souls of his ancestors - a thousand times a thousand were they in number - cried out, their fragile hearts breaking in unison.]
He pocketed the cash and tossed the wallet into a nearby shrubbery. [An Envoy of Punishment - awoken by the sound of many souls crying - moved swiftly through the Vast Crushing Nothingness, bearing down upon the foolish man.]
Carl kept walking down the darkened sidewalk, the illicitly-gained funds burning a hole in his pocket. [The Envoy of Punishment hovered over him, sucking life from his trembling bones.]
‘Maybe a drink will soothe my nerves,’ he thought, walking into a bar instead of sticking to his plans and spending time with a friend in need. [The Repository of Suffering buckled under the weight of a million gallons of tears shed in lonely silence.]
“A whisky and a beer,” he told the barkeep, paying with some of the stolen money. [The infinite set of eyes watched him, unblinking.]
‘Man, I’m bushed,’ Carl thought. ‘Must be all that walking I did tonight.’ He slumped forward onto the bar, his head drooping forward. [The Envoy of Punishment, its satchel stuffed full with all but the last remnants of Carl’s life-force, flew off into the Vast Crushing Nothingness.]

[And the infinite set of unblinking eyes kept watching.]

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥

on wires tapped

​As he always did in the weeks before Spring, the farmer tapped the wires that led into his white house and red barn. ‘This one’s as solid as it ever was,’ he thought, bent at the waist and listening to the hum and crackle of the taunt length of steel that connected the post out by the road to the front corner of the red barn.

He then tapped the wire leading into the white house, but - hanging limply - it resounded but with a dull and twangy thumping tone; it had worked loose from a rotten stump, halfway down the lane, that he’d been meaning to address the previous Fall. “Doggonnit,” he muttered, “I must immediately remove that meddlesome stump and replace it with a more solid, trustworthy pillar.”

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥

dreamstate writing 04 March 2017

My first memory is of entering a somewhat run-down airport waiting lounge. Its walls were an off-white wallpaper. Rows of interconnected seats reached into the distance. From what looked like windows at the far end of its sitting area streamed bright light. At one point, there were small people in dark clothing clustered around me; we were playing some sort of game, performing an intricate dance in which we were walking in a geometric, repetitive pattern that required us to brush past each other.

Shortly before I woke up, a few people seemed to be leading me toward a security checkpoint of some kind. I looked to my left and made eye-contact with a couple of people who were sitting closely together upon the connected seating. The man had short blond hair and was wearing a button-down shirt. The woman, of African descent, had very thick lips smeared with red lipstick; the skin above her top lip was painted with a wide band of blue paint.

I made ready to tell her about the unusual band of blue paint on her face, but stopped short, instead turning away from them and continuing along my path.

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥

⠿×]⚇ᙀ¯⺫⍥⧓⍥⺫¯ᙀ⚇[×⠿

whatever the dark strands they came from, avoid freebasing random powders

her curtained cubby

​“Excuse me, miss,” Randolf J. Kuppersmid said, waving over a steward. “How much longer until we land?”
“Well, we only just took off,” the young woman replied as she glanced down at her tiny golden watch, calculating. “But we should be landing in Atlanta in about three hours.”
“Oh, OK. Thank you,” Randolf said, his heart sinking. He rattled the ice cubes melting at the bottom of his plastic cup, remembering that he’d wanted to order another diet pop. The steward was gone, however, vanished into her curtained cubby. His girthy waist - hemmed in by armrests - threatened to spill over into the seat next to him.
“It’s not easy sitting here like this,” he said, chuckling. The man next to him stayed silent, however, and refused to look over, or reply.
‘How much longer can I take sitting here, doing nothing?’ he thought, forgetting that he had wasted four hours out of each of his previous 730 days alive on this Earth glued to a cheap plastic chair in his living room, his eyes fixed on a cheap flat-screen television, his brain processing cheap reality-style content created by storytellers who’d long before then run out of ideas. ‘After this visit to grandma, I don’t ever want to fly, again. This is torture.’

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥

through constant repetition

​Even before the man was fully awake, his past had returned to haunt him. It started with flickers of memory, snippets of conversations from his childhood, hurtful things which stung his soul anew. Then came fragments of longing for a girl whose heart now belonged to another, and the pain he’d attached to her erstwhile departure from his life.

Laying there under the covers, the sky outside his bedroom window yet dark, ancient modes of suffering coursed through his mind, familiar pathways that he’d worn deep into the essence his being through constant repetition. Happiness too flowed through him, but it was stunted, its blossoming retarded by his decision to be teleported back to events that existed solely within his neural circuitry.

‘I alone am responsible for the daily reliving of these pains and pleasures,’ he thought to himself as he prepared his meditation area. ‘To rid myself of them, I must either die, or rob them of power by meditating.’ Since he did not feel like dying that day, he sat down, closed his eyes, and began to breathe - with purpose.

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥

bog body found

An immaculately preserved male Stone Age body was found in a peat bog located south of the city of Pyltagrad, in western Grigovia. Discovered using ground-penetrating radar deployed by the Antiquities and Relics division of the Grigovian Ministry of Culture, the site is proving rich in artifacts. The Ministry was alerted to area by the Yiptlong Preservation Society, a band of local amateur treasure hunters whose stated goal is to locate and protect archaeological finds in geologically sensitive areas.

In addition to the leathery remains of the deceased, so far the site has yielded the following items: six flint arrowheads of masterful quality; a quiver made from woven reeds; four strands of pearls still attached to their silken threads; a box with interior compartments for roots, bark-shavings, and medicinal herbs believed to be a rudimentary first-aid kit; as well as a short hunting bow complete with twisted horse-hair bowstring. The discovery of silk appears to provide support for the theory that a major trading route from the region where China now sits once ran through the Glorious Republic of Grigovia.

Radiocarbon techniques date the man to the third millennium Before Common Era. Scientists conducting a series of careful examinations on the body have concluded that he was roughly forty years old, and that his last meal was a cooked mash of gooseflesh, berries, and a local variant of yam. The quality of the discovered artifacts as well as tattoos located on the man’s spine and face have led researchers to assume he was a member of a priestly or ruling class. There is no evidence of foul play or ceremonial sacrifice; his death seems to have occurred accidentally.

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥

on justifiable things

A thing happened. It happened because of a different thing. The second thing was justifiable as a reaction to the first thing, people were told, even though it appalled and bothered them. They believed what they were told, however, because they were still in shock from when the initial thing took place, which was, in fact, recently. ‘The thing we don’t really think is cool had to happen, or else the thing we really do not at all like will probably happen again,’ they said to one another, the logic traveling speedily through the population.

‘The original thing happened because of something we did to cause it, though, something that the people who did the thing we really do not at all like did out of retaliation for something we did to them that they really did not at all like,’ one man said, drawing scornful gazes. ‘The folks who did the thing we really do not at all like wouldn’t have had to do it if we hadn’t done that thing to them.’

This put doubt in the minds of many, but not enough. ‘That man dares question our reasons for having to do the thing we don’t really think is cool. Seize him!’ the majority demanded, grasping the doubting man and clapping him in irons. ‘This court finds you guilty of doubting the wisdom of us having had to have done the thing no one really thinks is cool,’ the head judge said, his face a twisted rictus. ‘Do you have anything to say in your defense?’

‘I speak the truth about all things,’ the man said. He looked out at the gathered crowd, but all his erstwhile supporters had abandoned him - for fear of retribution. ‘You will clearly not repent,’ the judge said, ‘wherefore you shall spend the rest of your days behind bars. Remove this man!’

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥

dreamstate writing 17 February

There are other parts of last night’s dream that I remembered upon first waking up that are however lost to me now. What sticks in my mind is a great battle, a siege, straight out of Peter Jackson’s Battle for Helm’s Deep.

I and a half dozen others were on a high parapet firing three-armed crossbows at forces attacking from below. The entire area was lit by a diffuse, white-golden light. In the dream I thought to myself something like, ‘This is just a movie set and these contraptions are just props, so they won’t be able to fire their darts far, or well.’ The dart I then fired flew poorly, bouncing off the siege engine below, a paltry effort. Once my doubt vanished, however, the darts flew true, doing damage.

The battle heated up; one of the humanoid but inhuman assailants reached our position, wreaking havoc on the troops to my right. In a way no longer known to me I managed to fight him off and fling him down, but he was caught whilst falling by a long-necked beast that sported the head of a horse. Such was its size its head reached up to where I was standing. With the assailant in its mouth it turned its head toward me so that a single wet eye was looking directly my way. In the dream I picked up a tankard of some sort, flinging it against the equine skull. The tankard bounced off, whereupon I flung another. Nothing I did seemed to scare off the horse-headed mutant.

Here, my recollection of the dreaming ends.

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥

melon-colored menace

The foetid orange salamander settled into its whitewashed lair, lashing out at anything it mused was wrong in the world. With a burp of oily flame it burned down a distant village filled with emigres fleeing war in their shattered homeland. With a flick of its slimy tail it sent shudders through the realms of man, threatening to shatter all the progress he had made, to date.

Though it wallowed among heaps of shoddy gold, in its beady eyes gleamed an insatiable lust for greater riches. Its paltry loins swelled briefly at the sound of manflesh approaching, women on their way to vespers. In a flash it had scurried from its spoiled chamber set deep in the heart of a great capital city. It fell upon the maidens, rending their clothes and raping them forthwith. Weeping and ruined, they limped away, their peace dashed, their hearts broken for lack of recourse.

No one knew how to get rid of the sickly amphibian, for in a time of great distress the weak-willed and fearful types among them had chosen it as their leader, granting it terrible and far-reaching power.

“Woe be unto our race,” the humans said to each other - never in public, only within the close privacy of friendship. “The orange ‘mander will ruin us, sure.”

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑

dreamstate writing 14 February 2016

The dream started with awareness of being in the upper reaches of a tall tower. Two others were there near the top with me, women by the sound of their voices and the glimpses I caught of their hurried movements. Through the center of the building ran a broad shaft, reaching all the way up and down, fully enclosed by the building’s superstructure. At first, I was afraid of approaching the railing at the edge of the shaft, preferring to wander the darkened corridors that made up the building’s higher floors.

After a while, however, I leaned over the railing and found the pair of women clinging adeptly to rafters. They were reaching black plastic shopping bags filled with laundry up and down, a thousand feet of open air between them and what looked like a lobby area, far below. I exchanged a few words with the laundry movers, a pleasant conversation which I no longer remember. Other humans were at work in the lobby, tiny figures who were rearranging large pieces of furniture. A sense of knowing filtered up to me, the notion that there is yet time for me to procreate, that I have permission to do so.

Making my way down to the tower’s lower levels to get a closer view of what was going on (as in many dreams I don’t know exactly how I got down, merely that of a sudden I had arrived), I noticed an immense hall stretching out to one side. Its entrance was staffed by a female maitre d’ who was standing at an upright lecturer’s pulpit, a rectangular box made of dark wood complete with bronze reading lamp. She and I exchanged a few words, which I do not remember. No matter to which side of her I moved, I could not clearly see her face; a curtain of long brown hair hid it too well. The only visible feature was a sidelong glancing eye that flashed my way, keeping me in view. The hall before us was so long I could not fathom its end. Seemingly endless rows of columns with horseshoe arches such as those found in Muslim architecture - the Moorish Alhambra castle in Spain, for example - rose from the floor of the hall to its ceiling. The gate guardian and I stood on an elevated platform that looked down onto the polished expanses of stone flooring below.

I made my way over to one of the columns for to get a closer look. The column itself was made of a solid length of blue-green marble, whereas its upper reaches appeared to be covered with snakeskin leather. I said words of praise about the unique construction and reached out a hand to feel the snakeskin, which was loose and supple to the touch.

Then, I awoke from the dream and carried the restless dachshund, who shares with me my bed, back to the kitchen so she could void her bowels.

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥

⌶ȯ☉˙𝈣ꜛᙀᚼ_⺵_ᚼᙀꜛ𝈣˙☉ȯ⌶

Rest assured, rest of the world - things in America are looking up. Our courts are strong; they fight executive overreach. Our warplanes can’t fly; they lack spare parts. Our women stand woke; they battle against the cruel rule of a boorish man-baby.

We have gone astray these last seventy years, but perhaps, with luck, we’ll stop trying to be the world’s policeman and instead focus our efforts on the problems we face here on Turtle Island. Perhaps, with luck, we’ll honestly face the fact that we are addicted to oil, a polluting chemical.

These difficult challenges we face, these dire realities that confront us, will not be dealt with quickly or easily. The few persons who profit from them do not represent the rest of America, because most Ynki are focused on day-to-day living. Please give us more time to deal with our collective madness and return this nation to the principles upon which it was founded. Aho.

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥

on Californian secession

Following the example of Britain’s exit from the European Union, citizens’ groups within the Republic of California began exploring the steps required for it to drop out of the Union of American States. According to legal scholars, a people’s referendum will be needed for the West Coast industrial and agricultural powerhouse to secede peacefully from the confederation it joined in the year 1850. The U.S. Constitution prohibits violent secessions, but ones proceeding in a calm and peaceful manner are permitted. Proponents of California’s Exit from the United States, also known as Calexit, say it will allow the residents of that state to determine their own future without undue influence from bureaucrats in far-off Washington, D.C. According to the movement’s official website, Calexit is about “California [...] standing as an equal among nations.” The world’s sixth largest economy, the Golden State has long been a haven to which forward-thinking and enterprising individuals have flocked. Another effort under way is to establish the State of Jefferson in parts of northern California and southern Oregon.

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥

☽·Ĥ☐ꜛ⟳且⥢ī⥤且⟲ꜛ☐Ĥ·☾

cloudy and lacking lustre, pickled yet in botanist’s gin, his mind fired sluggishly

ungovernable citizens coalesce

In response to the election of a billionaire fascist to the Presidency, a loose assemblage of persons calling themselves at times the Ungovernable Citizens Coalition (UCC) has begun to organize across the United States. Coming together with the apparent aim of causing such disruptions to the legislative, judicial, and commercial aspects of the American republic as to bring the entire system to a screeching halt, the UCC urges Americans to peacefully assemble and assert their Constitutional rights. There will be no requests made for permits to assemble, as they are not needed. There will be no muzzling of free speech by the U.S. police state’s violent thugs, as such action fly in the face of this nation’s basic and founding principles. (Here is an article that asks if the current U.S. federal government acts in a manner nearly identical to a past king of England, from whom we cut loose in a war for independence.)

Foremost among the goals of these #ungovernable people is to resist the Dakota Access Pipeline, a petroleum infrastructure project in which Trump is financially invested. When the supposed ‘leader of the free world’ pursues public ventures that benefit his personal portfolio; when these public ventures threaten the continued existence of the human race on planet Earth; when human-induced climate change is viewed by the various U.S. and international defense experts as a threat to national security: then it is the duty of all self-respecting and forward-thinking citizens to take action, to speak out, and to make it hard for their plutocratic overlords to get continue with business as usual; then it is the duty of the People to protect their water, their air, and their land from rock oil and its poisonous byproducts using all peaceful means at their disposal.

The UCC is urging all citizens to join in its efforts to safeguard the protections won by minority populations over many generations past, protections that under President Obama were seriously eroded, protections that will vanish further under President Trump. It is the duty of any person who honors and respects this American experiment to stand up, speak out, and become ungovernable. Why? Because such acts of peaceful civil disobedience are just about the only form of power the masses have left.

JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

Chump - Beta Centaurian

Citing in its abstract the Seditious or Unreasonable Speeking & Pondering Act of 1794, sitting U.S. President Chump signed an executive order today banning public expression of opinions that appear to criticize him or the legitimacy of his presidency. “Today, we return America to the tremendous days of our tremendous forebears,” Chump typed, mumbling into a half-eaten tuna sandwich while having his humanoid skin-suit professionally steamed by a member of his alien race. “Make sure you hit the eyeholes hard, X’x’chuuuukkkkk, they’re all wrinkled and white,” the commander-in-chief said, his six insectile walking-limbs waving lazily up toward the ceiling of the Oval Office. Returning his attention to the handheld communications device gripped weakly by his tiny left foreclaw, the Beta Centaurian spoke aloud whilst preparing to post to a popular micro-blogging website. “Anyone who says anything bad about me is going to jail, just like our fantastic Founding Fathers - really, really fantastic people, I gotta tell you - would have wanted it.”

Distracted for 32 minutes by a cluster of lice that was busy colonizing his anal tract, Chump then finished chirping about his new executive order by claiming, “I’m the best, the very best, the most awesome and good human being (I’m 100% human, by the way) that’s ever lived, and if anyone doesn’t agree with any of my statements he totally needs to go to jail or be shot, whichever comes first.” After word of the dissent ban leaked to the public, 17 university professors across the country died publicly of purposeful self-immolation. Upon hearing of the nearly two-score suicides, the 45th President vibrated his eating-mandibles with apparent, sickening glee.

JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

ꜛƸ⬍ᛦ\_₳˙☐˙☐˙₳_/ᛦ⬍Ʒꜛ

shining Sol his face a gleaming burning disc bore mighty witness to our wobbly plastic flight-paths

this soon lessen

Far the rhythm of her gaze that pierces through the gathered haze
Of gross injustice done to they who have no place to rest or play
Bright her torch of golden light that shreds such gloom as harshly bites
Upon the heels of Liberty as she protects her huddled seas of
Lowly and downtrodden wenches lost in economic trenches
Whose short lives made shorter still by rich men taking mighty swills
From wealth that’s made by each and all men and women bending tall
Against the weight of harsh oppression
Liberty please this soon lessen.

JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

Grigovian vagabond song

Oh for the high banks of the Yalung river
That place for which I yearn with a small part of my heart
Where the soils are host and giver to the teeming multitudes
Such a song my heart exudes in honor of the deep and fertile
Plains of our flash founder Old man Grig who settled valleys
Where bright blooms and soft winds mix
Forming for each weary passer tiny bosoms where to rest
From the sight of beast and stranger
There on the high banks of the Yalung river
A small glen with mountain view will for tonight surely do

JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

on privatized police

In his book Snow Crash, Neal Stephenson writes about a world in which the territory of the former United States of America is run by [!!!spoiler alert!!!] multinational corporations that have their own armies and police forces. The federal government owns only a few parcels of land, their main hub being a property near the 405 freeway in Westwood, California.

Are we as a nation heading in that very direction? Does the rise of private contractor armies in the wake of America’s (illegal and disastrous) misadventures in Iraq and Afghanistan bode well for the Ynki experiment? With plans to federalize the current police forces already nearing completion, is it a far grasp to imagine that after federalization these pillars of putatively civilized society might be privatized? Other elements of the once publically-owned criminal injustice system such as prisons, bail bonding, and parole services are already in private hands. Why not privatize those bodies that are currently doing a piss-poor job of protecting and upholding the parameters of the U.S. Constitution? American police today are not beholden to the opinions or rights of the citizens they were designed to protect; they work by rules of their own design, granting themselves the power to kill and imprison without fear of retribution or, failing that, even hints of criticism.

Perhaps if the police forces were privatized, their shareholders would be able to force them into abiding by the guidelines of due process, restraint, and respect for life that were long ago codified in the U.S. Constitution. Should a citizen be treated unfairly by a privatized police force, he could convince his neighbors to divest from that force’s stock portfolio or attend a shareholder meeting to voice his concerns. Today, however, anyone who dares to speak out against police brutality and intimidation - in a borough or community meeting, for example - will be ostracized and labelled as a pariah. Likely, his efforts will be met with further retribution, additional intimidation, stalking, veiled threats, loss of liberty, targeted ticketing, and more. The privatization of America’s police forces is all but inevitable; if done correctly, it might just serve the People well; if done incorrectly, however, it will bring this nation’s already wobbly house of cards crashing down. Sic semper tyrannis.

JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

Caribbean cabinet complains

Representatives of a filing cabinet today filed an official complaint against the United Nations, claiming their client has been unfairly targeted. Sitting in a decrepit office building located in the capital city of a small island nation in the eastern Caribbean, the filing cabinet contains the paperwork of various multinational corporations such as Multinational Back Gold Limited (MBGL), which owns 60% of all petroleum-producing rigs worldwide, as well as top political and business representatives of major Western powers. “The persons we stand for enjoy positions of great power; they must be allowed to hide their monetary earnings however and wherever they see fit,” said Ghadesh Rimn’alawan (esq.) of Mimir Partners LLC, the team of attorneys that manages the filing cabinet. “United Nations findings that criticize or otherwise bring to light the illicit offshore tax avoidance schemes that our clients engage in [through us] are damaging to the fabric of trust and transparency that underpins occidental economies.” Between 7 and 25 trillion dollars are hidden from tax authorities by unscrupulous businesspersons who benefit from the redistribution of wealth from the working classes to their entitled overlords.

In a tweeted statement, a group of American businessmen with ties to the filing cabinet voiced their concern. “We rich few need yachts and vacation estates more than the poor many need hospitals, roads, or schools,” said Sayied alHammour, owner of the Rust Best Roughnecks, an American professional sports team. Selected by his co-conspirators to put a positive spin on the potentially damaging findings, alHammour stated that “job-creating entities should not share the wealth generated by the persons [at the bottom] who actually work to create that wealth. Rather, such entities are entitled to keep all of those profits - in offshore holdings, if need be.”

“We suspect that many of the individuals and organizations named in the Panama Papers have a skewed view of the social contract,” said Thorrir Thamlundsson, a Norwegian U.N. Independent Expert on foreign debt and expert on offshore tax shelters. “So long as the citizens of the affected nations allow these criminal acts to continue unchallenged, these injustices will continue.”

JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

⌒*.☐ЇⰔ⏣🝱⏣ⰔЇ☐.*⌒

after a cold walk we did sit down to rest enjoying a rowdy Pineapple Express

freeloaders face music

Following a failed attempt to gut the Office of Congressional Ethics, Senate Republicans shifted their attentions elsewhere. Next up are the bloated salaries and outsized benefits packages enjoyed by all members of America’s legislative bodies. “We entered civil service not for riches but for power,” said a Republican senator leading the charge whose name was withheld upon his request. “Therefore, my colleagues and I will take the steps necessary to pay all legislators the minimum wage of their respective state. In addition, we will get rid of wasteful taxpayer spending on generous benefits packages, transferring legislators to the MedicAid system.”

The proposed move caused consternation among members of both the House and Senate, with a number of Republican Congressmen offering clandestine challenges. “How are we supposed to live on the minimum wage?” said an elected official from America’s South who also asked us to withhold his name. “I’ve got a mansion to keep up and a couple of luxury cars to look after. How am I supposed to do this on $7.25 an hour?” The proposed changes will require legislators to clock in and out using an electronic punch-card system and wait their turn in line to see a doctor - just like a majority of Americans must do. Citizen watchdog groups have applauded the move, among them American Civil Liberties Union, Institute for Justice, and Taxpayers of Common Sense. “We view this as a necessary first step in reining in Washingtonian greed and forcing our elected officials to witness firsthand the harsh realities most underprivileged Ynki face,” said Rheinhold D. Julout-Graham, head of Project on Government Oversight. “It has long been our opinion that once members of the House and Senate understand the inadequacies of our current minimum wage standards, they will take the steps necessary to raise or abolish them.”

Although no timetable has been set for banishing the practice of moving from the public directly into the private sector commonly referred to as the revolving door system, watchdog groups remain hopeful that Americans will soon rest assured that their elected officials are actually working in the best interest of the People instead of just a corporate bottom line.

JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

storm clouds gather

Over the past weekend, an ungodly mass of black cumulonimbus started gathering above Washington, D.C. Arriving primarily from the South and Midwest, the floating harbingers of portend rumbled and shook, threatening to shatter the last vestiges of Ynki democracy. Their first casualty was the formerly independent Office of Congressional Ethics, a body that once served to reduce corruption in the Senate but that now lies stricken, and dying. Next, the ill winds aim to destroy the protections put in place by the Constitutional Emoluments Clause, allowing a narcissistic kleptocrat to assume the country’s highest post. After these crimes are committed, the swirling heaps of rotten air will ramp up their assault on America’s minority groups - among them persons homosexual, sick, and poor. Scientists studying the clouds indicate that only the dazzling of light of unbridled Truth might scare off these thunderheads, allowing Liberty and Justice to once again shine down on the struggling masses yearning here to be free.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑

NM legalizes drugs

Citing the successful test of drug legalization in Portugal as its guiding influence, the American state of New Mexico decriminalized all drug use and possession within its border. The Return to Freedom Act, or RFA (SB-04472.7.65), has been approved by both houses of the state’s legislature and should arrive on the governor’s desk shortly. “Our residents and visitors are sick of being harassed and imprisoned for exercising their Constitutional right to get blasted on any substance they choose so long as they are not infringing upon the Life, Liberty, or Property of another person,” said Hailyie Darmstadder, 49, deputy New Mexico governor and mother of two state police sergeants; “and our police forces desire to spend their time keeping their communities safe from violent crime rather than working as strongmen who exist primarily to enforce blanket prohibitions enacted by a tyrannical federal government.” Critics have condemned the passage of RFA, saying that the potential risks to children outweigh the benefits arising from the normalization of drug-using behavior. Margit Lopez-Westinghaus, head of the New Mexico chapter of Catholic Mothers for Safe Streets, was concern that “it will become easy for a child to walk into a pharmacy and buy a marijuana cigarette.” Thomaz H.N.E. Gutierrez Jr., a Republican legislator who helped write the bill’s final draft, confirmed that the new legislation will make recreational drugs available to legal adults only, much as are cigarettes or alcohol. “For many generations now, Americans have been able to walk into any of a thousand convenience stores across the Land of Enchantment and pick up as much booze and as many smokes as they could carry, and look at the damage that has wrought,” state congressman Gutierrez said. “My ancestors used marijuana in ceremonies as a method for becoming one with the Great Unknowable, whereas alcohol does little more than pollute the mind, and nicotine does little more than make people sick.” Police unions across the state are wary about RFA, with most of them saying they’ll miss the millions of dollars they receive from Washington for putting non-violent drug users behind bars. “The gravy train is over, I guess,” said Captain Youlisees Sharlto-Macks of the West Mesa City Police department. “On the other hand, prohibition of alcohol didn’t work in the 1920s - why the hell did we think it would work with other drugs?”

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥