The Holy Grail Press
Proudly Made On Earth By Earthlings
Word of the Every So Often
pisswilly: (noun) (from “piss,” which is what you think it is, and “willy,” which in this case is a penis) an ineffectual or ridiculous person. Well, Larry mucked things up again. But what did you expect? We all know he’s a pisswilly.
Everyday History
On August 28, 1968, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., delivered his “I Have a Dream” speech on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. It is estimated that upwards of 250,000 people were there to hear Dr. King talk. And I would’ve loved to have been one of them. Dr. King is one of the most respected men, ever, by all of us here at the Press. He did so much for everybody, and now it all seems to be going to shit. But in the abridged words of Dr. King, there is still hope...
Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.
So even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.
This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true. And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania. Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado. Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California. But not only that, let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia. Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee. Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, and when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, Black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual: Free at last. Free at last. Thank God almighty, we are free at last.
Cartoon of the Week
Bear With Me
Stuff
Dog Days
The screen door slams
and bounces and bounces and bounces,
the loose mesh flapping flies,
suspended in the mirage vapours
of awningless sunshine
rising off the cement slab excuse
for a back porch,
flapping them in to dreamily weave the room,
filling shadowed corners with the rise and fall
of meaningless flight.
Eventually to land,
just out of reach of thee swatter.
It is not guessing.
They know.
And there they wait,
rubbing their hands,
waxing their wings,
screwing and unscrewing their heads,
but never quite taking them all the way off.
Until you lunge,
with a magazine
or a newspaper
or even your hand.
And then they’re gone,
to circle once
or twice
and then return,
passing just close enough
to your head
so you’ll hear
the soft snicker of wings.
And all the while,
the never ceasing insult
of the window unit drone
carries beyond the lawnmower line.
It carries from where that damned dog –
our damned dog –
lies beneath the air conditioner
that sticks from the neighbor’s window
like the chubby tongue of some obnoxious child
that you aren’t allowed to swat.
And there, folded into the two feet of shade,
is that damned dog,
lying there like he has nothing else better to do
than just to watch those tiny drops of frustration
let go one at a time,
and drop and drop and drop,
falling into a small puddle of nothing
just beyond his nose.
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