Blackbottom By Toi Derricotte

 Blackbottom

By Toi Derricotte

When relatives came from out of town,

we would drive down to Blackbottom,

drive slowly down the congested main streets

    —Beubian and Hastings—

trapped in the mesh of Saturday night.

Freshly escaped, black middle class,

we snickered, and were proud;

the louder the streets, the prouder.

We laughed at the bright clothes of a prostitute,

a man sitting on a curb with a bottle in his hand.

We smelled barbecue cooking in dented washtubs,

    and our mouths watered.

As much as we wanted it we couldn't take the chance.

Rhythm and blues came from the windows, the throaty voice of 

    a woman lost in the bass, in the drums, in the dirty down 

    and out, the grind.

“I love to see a funeral, when I know it ain't mine.”

We rolled our windows down so that the waves rolled over us

   like blood.

We hoped to pass invisibly, knowing on Monday we would

   return safely to our jobs, the post office and classroom.

We wanted our sufferings to be offered up as tender meat,

and our triumphs to be belted out in raucous song.

We had lost our voice in the suburbs, in Conant Gardens,

   where each brick house delineated a fence of silence;

we had lost the right to sing in the street and damn creation.

We returned to wash our hands of them,

to smell them

whose very existence

tore us down to the human.

Illegal to rollerskate

 

quantum numbers

 

Biden loves ice cream

 Once upon a time in a sun-kissed summer, President Joe Biden found himself in the quaint town of Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, a place where memories lingered among the sandy shores and familiar faces. It was a well-deserved break from the whirlwind of Washington, D.C., filled with meetings, decisions, and the ever-present hum of politics. As always, he had a simple joy that brought a smile to his face: ice cream.

As he strolled along the boardwalk, the scent of saltwater and cheerful laughter filled the air. Biden’s eyes lit up as he approached “Scoops,” the beloved local ice cream shop known for its vibrant flavors and homemade recipes. The bell above the door jingled pleasantly as he entered, and the sheer joy of the place washed over him.

Behind the counter stood Sarah, a longtime resident of Rehoboth and an ardent supporter of the President. She was used to his visits, and today was no different. “Mr. President, the usual?” she asked with a wink, already reaching for the vibrant turquoise tub of mint chocolate chip.

“Absolutely, Sarah! But I think I’ll need a double scoop today,” he replied, a twinkle in his eye. The joy of ice cream was that it brought everyone together, regardless of their affiliation or status. Children lined up beside him, pointing at the colorful array of flavors, and he knelt down to chat with them, sharing smiles and warmth.

After getting his massive cone, Biden stepped outside, the summer sun beaming down. He balanced the tower of ice cream expertly in one hand and savored the first bite. Ah, it was bliss! The creamy mint intertwined with the crunch of chocolate bits sent waves of nostalgia crashing over him, reminding him of family summers spent at his grandfather's house.

He walked along the beach, chatting with folks he encountered, some offering kind words, others stories of their own summer adventures. They spoke of their hopes and dreams, echoing the sentiment that resonated with Biden—a desire for unity, for smiles, and for moments of joy amidst life’s chaos. Ice cream was a sweet reminder of simple pleasures, after all.

With each lick of the cone, he felt the weight of the world lift just a little. As he watched the waves crash rhythmically against the shore, Biden felt a sense of peace. Perhaps, he thought, if everyone could share an ice cream, talk, and laugh together, the world would be a little brighter.

Suddenly, a group of teenagers spotted him and squealed with delight. “Mr. President! Can we take a selfie?” They surrounded him, smartphones gleaming under the sun, and he couldn't resist their enthusiasm. With a smile and a big scoop of ice cream in hand, he posed for pictures, their laughter weaving into the backdrop of crashing waves.

When the day began to draw to a close, Biden headed back toward Scoops, feeling lighter in spirit. As he approached, he spotted an elderly couple sitting on a bench, sharing a cone and holding hands, laughter spilling out between them. He waved and ventured over, offering them a smile. “Best ice cream in town, wouldn’t you say?”

The couple nodded, grinning widely. The man chuckled, “So true! You know, Mr. President, it’s moments like these that really matter.” Biden nodded, understanding the truth in those words, realizing that in the grand tapestry of life, it was these threads of simple joy that held it all together.

With the sun setting behind the horizon, casting a golden glow over the beach, Biden savored the last bite of his ice cream, feeling content. As he turned to leave, Sarah waved him goodbye, and he promised to return soon. The magic of a summer day, laughter, and ice cream would linger long after he left, forever reminding him of what truly mattered.

And thus, with a full belly and a joyful heart, President Biden returned to the White House, knowing that life’s sweetest moments could often come in a cone.

JD Vance loves couches

 JD Vance had always had a peculiar affinity for couches. It was not merely an admiration for their comfort or style; for him, these pieces of furniture held the weight of memories, dreams, and solace. Raised in a small town in Ohio, his family's living room was a hub of lively conversations and laughter, mostly centered around their well-worn, brown leather couch that seemed to cradle their hopes and fears.

After graduating from Yale Law School, JD returned to Ohio, where he found himself reflecting on those formative years. Life had become much more complicated, filled with the expectations of a career in politics and the challenges of a rapidly changing America. Still, there was something profoundly comforting about the thought of sinking into a cozy couch after a long day.

With that spirit in mind, JD decided to undertake a unique project. He wrote a book titled "Couches of America," a heartfelt exploration of the cultural significance of couches across different American households. Each chapter would feature stories from families of varying backgrounds, showcasing how their couches had witnessed pivotal moments in their lives.

He spent the summer traveling across the Midwest, visiting homes where couches were the silent witnesses to everything from family game nights to deep talks about life. He met with a couple who had raised their children on a floral-patterned couch passed down from their grandparents, the fabric worn but sturdy. He came across a single mother whose couch had been a refuge during late-night studying sessions.

As he gathered these stories, Vance found himself reexamining his own life. He began to see parallels between the couches he encountered and his own journey. Each one had its own character, the fading fabric or scuffed armrests telling tales of love, loss, and perseverance. He learned to appreciate the beauty in imperfections, the way they could symbolize a life well-lived.

One rainy afternoon, JD found himself sitting on an old recliner in a dimly lit living room in a small town. The host, a retired factory worker, shared how his couch had witnessed long hours of solitude after retirement, the echo of his late wife’s laughter still lingering in the air. JD listened intently, realizing how these stories bound them all together, transcending politics and socio-economic divides.

The book was ultimately more than a collection of anecdotes; it became a manifesto about the human experience, the couches serving as metaphors for resilience, comfort, and connection. Vance infused his own journey into the narrative, illustrating how the couches of his past had shaped his views on community and empathy.

When "Couches of America" finally hit the shelves, the response was overwhelming. The book resonated with many, opening discussions about the places in which we seek comfort and the emotional landscapes that couches symbolize. JD held readings in living rooms across the country, inviting community members to share their own couch stories, each gathering imbued with a sense of warmth and camaraderie.

One evening, as he prepared for a reading in a suburban living room, surrounded by eager faces, he paused to take it all in. There was something powerful about connecting with others through the simple act of sharing memories on a couch. He realized that while life could be chaotic and divisive, there were moments of softness, spaces where stories intertwined, reminding everyone that they were not alone.

As he settled on a plush, blue couch to begin reading, JD Vance smiled, understanding now that his love for couches was about much more than comfort—it was about the human experience and the connections that bound us together. And in that moment, nestled between the armrests of stories both told and yet to be shared, he found a profound sense of belonging.

Vader vs Godzilla

 In a distant galaxy, there lived two powerful beings - Darth Vader, the infamous Sith Lord, and Godzilla, the monstrous creature that towered over all. Darth Vader had been traveling through space on a mission for the Emperor when he received a distress signal from a nearby planet. Curiosity piqued, he decided to investigate. As he approached the planet, he noticed a fierce battle raging on the surface. Buildings were being destroyed, and the ground was shaking with each step of the colossal Godzilla. Vader knew he had to act quickly before the creature caused more damage. With a swift motion of his lightsaber, Vader landed on the ground and faced Godzilla. The two locked eyes, and a battle of epic proportions began. Vader's lightsaber clashed against Godzilla's powerful tail, creating sparks that lit up the sky. The Sith Lord's mastery of the Force allowed him to levitate objects and throw them at the creature, but Godzilla's thick hide protected it from most attacks. Just when it seemed like Vader had the upper hand, Godzilla unleashed a powerful atomic breath that knocked him off his feet. The Sith Lord quickly got back up and used the Force to create a protective shield around himself. The battle continued, with both adversaries using all their strength and power to defeat the other. But as the fight raged on, something unexpected happened. A portal opened up in the sky, and a group of Jedi Knights from a different dimension appeared. Sensing the danger, Vader and Godzilla stopped their battle and joined forces to defeat the new threat. Together, they fought the Jedi, using their combined powers to overcome the powerful warriors. After the battle, Vader and Godzilla stood victorious, their differences forgotten as they looked out at the destruction around them. They both knew that this was just a temporary truce, and they would continue their fight another day. And as the portal closed, Vader couldn't help but feel a sense of respect for the mighty creature that had stood by his side. Perhaps, in another world, they could have been allies instead of enemies.

Make pizza,great again

 

Make pizza great again

 Once upon a time in a bustling town called Naptown, a curious rumor began to spread like wildfire: Donald Trump, the former president known for his signature hair and bold statements, had a secret obsession. It wasn't wealth or power, but pizza.

It began one sunny afternoon at a local pizza festival. With booths lined up, each serving unique, mouthwatering slices, the aroma of dough, cheese, and tomato sauce filled the air. Among the crowd was a group of enthusiastic pizza lovers, who were completely unaware that Trump himself was driving down from his lavish estate in Mar-a-Lago.

As he stepped out of his black SUV, dressed in a tailored suit that seemed a bit out of place at a casual festival, the crowd erupted into a mix of cheers and gasps. Trump waved his hands, his trademark grin stretching from ear to ear. He had a secret mission: he wanted to find the best slice of pizza in Naptown.

"Believe me, folks, I know pizza. I’ve had the best!" Trump boomed as he made his way to the first booth, which offered a classic pepperoni slice. As he took a bite, his eyes lit up. "Incredible! This is the kind of pizza people can rally behind!"

Martha, the booth owner, blushed and beamed as if she’d just received a presidential award. “Thank you, Mr. Trump! We use only the finest ingredients!”

Trump continued his adventure, hopping from booth to booth. He encountered unique pies, from the Hawaiian with its controversial pineapple to a spicy buffalo chicken extravaganza. With each slice, he offered his enthusiastic critique. “Tremendous! But we need more cheese on that one!” he exclaimed after biting into a thin-crust Margherita.

The festival-goers were thrilled, snapping selfies with the former president and excitedly sharing their pizza experiences on social media. Suddenly, Trump announced, “Let’s have a pizza-eating contest! The winner gets a VIP tour of Mar-a-Lago and a lifetime supply of pizza!”

The crowd erupted in cheers as participants stepped forward. As they munched and munched, Trump donned a red apron that said “Make Pizza Great Again” and judged their performance with all the seriousness of a presidential debate. “Tremendous effort here, folks! A true champion!”

As the day wore on, Trump’s love for pizza transformed the festival into a celebration of flavors and creativity. People started sharing heartwarming stories about their favorite pizza memories. One woman shared how her late grandmother had taught her to make the perfect pie, instilling in her the joy of bringing friends together over dinner. Trump listened intently, nodding, genuinely engaged.

Finally, as the sun began to set, and the festival was nearing its end, Trump announced the overall winner — a teenage girl named Lily who had created a groundbreaking combination of mac and cheese pizza. “This is it! This is what America needs — innovation!” he declared, lifting her hands in triumph.

Lily was ecstatic. “Thank you, Mr. Trump! I can’t believe I won!”

With a final wave to the crowd, Trump announced, “I’m going to have a slice of this amazing mac and cheese pizza at Mar-a-Lago! We’re making pizza great again, folks!”

As he drove away, the festival buzzed with excitement, not only for the pizza but for the unexpected joy of the day. Naptown had united over their shared love of dough and cheese, and they would remember that sunny afternoon as the day the pizza-loving president showed up to savor their creations and share in their stories.

And so, the legend of Trump's pizza obsession grew, inspiring townsfolk to create new flavors and celebrate their culinary culture, knowing that sometimes, the simplest things can bring people together in the most extraordinary ways.

Frenzy

 

Protocols of Zion

 

Every republic passes through various stages

 Every republic passes through various stages. The first stage is the first days raging of the _ blind, sweeping and destroying right and left. The second, the reign of the demagogue, bringing forth anarchy and entailing despotism. This despotism is not officially legal, and, therefore, irresponsible; it is concealed and invisible, but, all the same, lets itself be felt. It is generally controlled by some secret organisation, which acts behind the back of some agent, and will, therefore, be the more unscrupulous and daring. This secret power will not mind changing its agents who mask it. The changes will even help the organisation, which will thus be able to rid itself of old servants, to whom it would have been necessary to pay larger bonuses for long service. Who or what can dethrone an invisible power? Now this is just what our government is. The masonic lodge throughout the world unconsciously acts as a mask for our purpose. But the use that we are going to make of this power in our plan of action, and even our headquarters, remain perpetually unknown to the world at large.

Liberty could be harmless and exist in governments and countries without being detrimental to the welfare of the people, if it were based on religion and fear of God, on human fraternity, free from ideas of equality, which are in direct contradiction to the laws of creation, and which have ordained submission.