happy Monday morning

A thousand pages of truthful speaking get ruined by a single, whispered lie.
Without much ado, a million gentle patriots adopt hard-hearted nationalism.
There’s turmoil on the Potomac, an angry old failure generating headlines.
The voices of doubt and torment grow; they’ll be silenced by eternal sleep only.
And yet the sun keeps spinning, dragging Earth along with it.
Will our living planet rejoice when we let slip the nukes of blinding war?
Maybe - just maybe - she’ll weep for her violent and greedy children...

...they who could not manage to live in harmony, or peace.

americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan

regarding LGBTQC warriors

Dear members of America’s armed forces:

Please consider supporting your fellow lesbian, gay, bisexal, transgender, queer, or curious (LGBTQC) soldiers by performing the following acts: declare that your entire platoon, your full company, and your whole battalion are openly LGBTQC.

Not only will this make the unconstitutional, un-American, and hateful targeting and ostracization of individual service-members more difficult, it will enrage terrorist extremists at home and abroad. The foreign terrorist extremists known as Daesh (formerly IS, or the Islamic State) will lose their minds once they realize they’re fighting against and being killed by transgender people or homosexuals; and the homegrown religious extremists spouting hatred and spreading fear within the United States will be driven to frenzy just imagining that transgender people or homosexuals are putting their lives on the line to defend American values. Please remember that it doesn’t matter if any or all of you are actually LGBTQC - declaring it openly sends a powerful message of acceptance, hope, and pride.

Unit cohesion is fundamental to mission success. By standing united against small-minded bigotry, you’ll help show the world that true Americans are virtuous, inclusive, level-headed, and not to be fucked with.

americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan

car v. ped

Among the duties of citizens working for police departments is to set the example for how their neighbors ought to behave. With this in mind, here are some modified rules for operating a motor vehicle in the city of Baltimore, Maryland. (The author has personally witnessed Baltimore police officers break these laws operate according to these modified rules.)


Ignore crosswalks. It doesn’t matter if children are trying to cross the road or there’s traffic stopped at a red light ahead - if you’re in a car, you have the power to crush any living human being. Use that power to intimidate pedestrians into leaping backward out of your way. Both Maryland and Baltimore laws require drivers to yield to pedestrians who are trying to walk across a road in marked or unmarked crosswalks. Fuck those laws.

Ignore road markings. If you’re in a car, feel free to use any lane, including bicycle-only lanes. Also, feel free to cross double yellow lines and veer into oncoming traffic to avoid slowing down - even for a fraction of a second.

Ignore stop signs. As long as you’re marginally confident that no one else is coming and you’re the only person driving that day, don’t come to a full stop at a stop sign. Coasting through a stop sign is as good as fully stopping. The cops do it - why shouldn’t you?!

Don’t use turn signals. If other people can’t read your mind or accurately guess what you’re about to do before you do it, they shouldn’t be out on the road. Also, don’t put on your hazard lights when double-parked - cause a traffic jam by just sitting there.

Turn your headlights on only at night. Using daytime running lights reduces the risk of getting in an accident significantly. Fuck those statistics. Flicking one knob, once, with your left hand, is simply too much work.

Park wherever you like. If this means blocking a marked crosswalk or the entrance to a shopping plaza so you can go and get a soda on a hot day, do it. Pedestrians have legs and can walk around your illegally parked vehicle, and other drivers can hurry up and wait while you do your business.


Fit in by following these modified rules. Drive it like you stole it, and don’t slow down for nothing.

(This is a work of satire. Please educate yourself about your state’s laws regarding the rights of pedestrians in a crosswalk. Follow those and other pertinent traffic laws. The author is a defender of the rights of pedestrians; he regularly puts his healthy and safety on the line assisting others to cross roads safely.)

americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan

eddies of inner

A hundred thousand ethnic restaurants open, not one of them selling authentic cuisine.
A million women dress, not one of them choosing clothes she herself likes. An equal number of men dress in garments that, deep down, they know make them look like fools.
A million swelling hopes flare, not one of them destined to see the next morning’s sunrise.
Ten thousand false promises are made, and broken.
A thousand and one young children cry upon being tricked by an older person.

A single soul retreats into the swirling eddies of inner solitude, prompting a long-dormant goddess to stir, awakening the owl resting beside her.

From her breastplate scowls a terrible gorgon.

americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorpha

haiku 21 July 2017

When ‘shut up’ won’t work
And ‘be still’ seems out of place
Use, then, ‘zip your face.’

americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan

haiku 19 July 2017

Speak curses freely
But remember, always, to
Also speak blessings.

americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan

haiku 17 July 2017

There’s so much to see
In each new place I visit.
It’s overwhelming.

americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan

haikyu 14 July 2017

When things get darkest;
When all hope seems lost; then, keep
On moving forward.

americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan

meeting uncle Ho

In March, 2016, my third attempt to see Ho Chi Minh was a success. I’d tried twice before then, but the first time I wasn’t wearing pants or close-toed shoes, and the second his mausoleum was closed. An intrepid young lady and I had left our Hanoi hostel early in order to arrive a few minutes before the shrine officially opened. We got to the grounds, walked through the unoccupied ticket booth, along the paved lanes, out into a large courtyard, and up to the very front of the line.

To our left rose the leader’s black-marble resting place. Ceremonial guards in white uniforms stood at its corners, guarding the entrance too. A man with a clipboard who was setting up queuing barriers looked over at us, glanced briefly at our clothing, then gestured toward the entrance, which we took as an invitation for us to enter.

Moving from the bright hot morning sun to the cool dark interior was fairly shocking, but we kept our composure and climbed the marble stairs. At each landing stood two white-clad guards at rigid attention. We took a right into the central chamber and caught our first glimpse of the deceased patriot lying within his glass and metal sarcophagus. In the viewing chamber with us were at least six guards. My companion and I were walking around the preserved statesman when an urge came over me and I paused, briefly, to give Ho Chi Minh a full bow from the spot where viewing him seemed best. As I was closing my eyes with my hands at my chest and beginning to bend forward, I saw the eyes of all visible guards go wide and snap onto me. The need to honor Vietnam’s erstwhile leader satisfied, my friend and I then quietly exited and went to find breakfast

americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan

alpha male today

American society, it seems, has a tendency to try to reverse roles and redefine truths according to rapidly shifting mores. (If anyone has a sound argument for why this is the case, please share them in the comments section below.) The concept of masculinity, for example, is being changed from one of strength to one of aggression, from the idea of a firm and just hand to the notion that might makes right. Men who labor to control people in thought and deed - using violence, if necessary - are seen and portrayed as alpha males, when in fact they are beta males.

The true alpha male labors to control himself, then leads or inspires his neighbors by virtuous example alone. He does not use force against others, because trying to make someone else do something that he or she doesn’t necessarily want to do is a violation of that person’s liberty; he protects those too downtrodden, poor, or weak to help themselves rather than exploit them for personal gain; he respects the planet upon which as well as the other members of the society within which he lives. Among the hardest things a man can do is to learn who he is at root, what his underlying needs and urges are, and how to control himself. The man who denies himself the gratification of his sexual desires, for example voyeurism or masturbation, is a man who is on the road to mastering those desires. The man who succumbs to his sexual urges, however, enslaves himself readily to anyone who can help him reach climax.

Recent movies (End Of Watch, Deadpool, The Accountant) and television shows (The Apprentice, Kitchen Nightmare) reinforce the notion that an angry or violent man is a good man, perhaps because such men are both despicable and predictable - they fit into a box of others’ choosing and are therefore easier for society to deride and marginalize. In light of this, my fellow American men, consider controlling the self before trying to control others; become an alpha male, today!

americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan

a seaside promenade

The dream started inside a building, which I escaped through a side door that opened onto a street paved with cobblestones. The outside was lit by a bright, white light. With me (on the right-hand side) was as always my psychopomp, as well as a female (on the left-hand side) whose face and features have faded from memory.

Together, we climbed through the open rear door into a automobile that looked like a standard, black Londonite taxicab. It was hitched via leather strapping to four-legged beasts that at first glance appeared to be cats. The driver’s perch had been mounted onto the roof, meaning that I had to climb up through the car’s open sunroof to man the reins.

We took off, rounding corners at speed, and were soon riding astride a seaside promenade made using cut blue granite and featuring an iron railing. People in Victorian-era dress strolled along the sidewalk to our right. Below and beyond them stretched the sea - deep blue and vastly calm, nary a wave or ripple. The vehicle stopped and I leaped off to see if there was a beach at the base of the cut-stone promenade. Using a nearby flight of stairs, I climbed down to its blond sands (with someone or something else in tow), and had just dipped a toe in (to check the waters) when I awoke.

americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan

this winding road

The vapor juice tasted good, so I bought a bitter one - and therefore stopped vaping.
The snacks tasted good, so I stopped buying ready-made foods - and therefore stopped snacking.
A trip to the barber shop every two weeks would have cost me many thousands of dollars, and so I spent forty dollars on a pair of clippers and learned to cut that shit myself.
The car got me to where I was going quickly but at significant financial and ecological cost; when it broke I fixed up a bicycle that gets me there less quickly but at a thousandth of the overall cost of driving.

In order to live simply and without spending much money, make life purposefully difficult. Then adapt, learning the skills necessary to live a fairly happy and healthy life, leaving the remaining bullshit and clutter on the side of this winding road.

americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan

hot and glorious

I caught an earlier train into New York than expected, arriving around one pm Sunday afternoon. The city greeted me with a hot and glorious day, three hours of which I spent walking from 32nd and 7th avenue down through the Bowery to Houston street via Broadway and Union Square, then back up to Penn Station on 7th avenue starting at roughly 14th street.

Some remnants of street art had survived the mass cullings executed by the city of New York, but places where formerly many beautiful pieces could be found were instead art-free dead zones replete with franchise coffee shops. Union Square lay bare, stripped of all but one speck of its cultural heritage. Except for a few spots, Broadway along most of its length had been picked clean, scraped-up lighting poles and remnants of sticker-glue the only reminders that works of art had once existed there.

By the time I hit Mamoun’s falafel near Washington square park to photograph the stickers posted on its walls, I was so badly dehydrated that my vision was starting to lag and I was having trouble keeping my balance on two feet. Mine was a forced march to harvest as much street art as possible, you see, and I could not be bothered to drink more than enough water to let my vital organs barely function. I still managed to photograph hundreds of pieces of street art - mostly in the East Village and the Bowery - but was dismayed at the lengths to which the city had gone to desecrate and destroy the graffiti that has for so long made it a beacon of hope in a land of sterilized conformity.

americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan