Captain Cock’s Journal

Captain Cock’s Journal During Another Voyage Around the Girls

Tuesday, 17th. I farted soon as my lids passed the scape of mine eyes. My bed rumbled, wakening stole into me like last night’s stew, and my cabin was at once a jungle of barbarous scents and cheek-flapping echoes. The squall of the fart blew 15 degrees past my left thigh and 43 degrees up my central-buttocks. I felt it tickle mine taint, where I’ve a pimple like a stuffed pinto bean, and I’ve been tempted to pop it, but I suspect the pus might fly 50 some degrees west into the rear of my gentleman’s grain-sacks. I observed this morn how the hair on those bulbous mounds of His Image had grown, and I much thought of my wife Grace and her fascination with shaving my intimacy. The hairs bent at some 5 degrees south, my captain’s fleshy finger bent similarly in the southern direction, and I was much pressed by God to not relieve my white man’s burden in a stupendous arc and spray of some 69 degrees north onto the walls of mine cabin. Instead, I took up my journal, that silly numbers pomposity the King will read, and I took to recording the rest of my much burdened day. And what a burden I had between mine legs. I am loath to enter into disputes, but I would swear that I was as blue as the sea with which we plied 51 miles east and 30 north.

Friday, 20th. ARRIVAL ON UNNAMED ISLAND. Having been incited by the man in the crow’s nest sighting of land – which during he made the mistake of pointing towards said land at a 40-degree angle and not a 45-degree angle – pushed, was I, towards the relief of my rage in the forms that came as they may. God as my witness, the King shall never bear witness, and so I shall not be judged until the Judgement, and who might judge me for that? My Grace? She is at home. She is no witness. I corrected the boy the 5 degrees and bid the men escort me to the village. They took hold of me, exalted as they were in my generosity in leadership, and they forced me to give in to my base temptations. With dark copper in her hair, and some golden native links in her ears, who can blame my member for the 180-degree tilt it took, most horizontal and rigid in our ship’s wood, in response to the back-frontal 90 degree angle that dark temptress took? My thrusts were, as follows, 40-some degrees inward, followed by a declination angle of 20-some degrees outward, followed by another inward of a higher and – from her -shriller 59 degrees, and naturally this followed with a 19 degree exit during which she screamed at an octave of some 80-plus decibels, and I was much irritated with the half-second lengths with which her screams echoed in my cabin. There was blood dripping at some intervals of 2 or 3 seconds, and it fell most divinely straight into a 180-degree verticality. I noted that the chains around her wrists sagged at some arc of 57 degrees and I though that most disenchanting. I found myself overtaken by the savagery within my shipmen, that savagery with which they take these savages, and I found myself striking her at some intervals of 4 or 5 seconds until she had adjusted the chains to my preferred, and uplifting, 60 degrees precisely. I freed her after the act, bid her go, and I took to disciplining the men for having possessed me so. We pressed on, sailing for some 20 miles north and 50-some miles east, and I thought of how Grace lifted mine hidden hairs to such perfect and well-learned degrees of 10s, 15s, 20s, 25s…

Review of Captain’s Cock’s Journal:

By Ivan Sternovich

            The writer of this “parody” article, Ian Sterns, is a liberal fanatic who cannot remove his bias from anything he writes. His choice to adopt the cerebral tone of Captain Cook’s Journal is well-meaning, but even I, the esteemed reviewer Ivan Sternovich, cannot decipher his point in the constant referencing of numbers. It’s almost as though he was making fun of Captain Cooks obsession with numbers – how they seem to represent the progress of the expedition and are somehow a ridiculous commodity, a value, showing to his audience, the King, how far Cook has gone – but that couldn’t be it; the writer of this parody isn’t that good. No way is that bald dummy Sterns alleging that Cook was concealing the horrors of his journey by summarizing journeys in “miles” and reducing actions to “degrees.” Sterns couldn’t see that Cook was a liar – who probably left out evil actions by himself and crew to spare his reputation – if Cook smacked Sterns in the face with a longboat. Sterns is a pretentious idiot who is anti-feminist. How dare he conceal the horrors of colonization and rape with descriptions of sexual assault through “degrees” and “intervals!” Is he trying to say that the short distance involved in the sexual act and the vast distances of Cook’s travels are one and the same – that both are somehow inherently damaging, and that both can be reduced to numbers and terse description? Is Sterns alleging that Cook uses language as some kind of veil? And do I even need to talk about that introduction? Do we really need lengthy descriptions of Captain Cook’s genital habits? What is even the point of that? Could Sterns be pointing to the inherent humanity in such intimate actions and thoughts? Could he be setting up the strange brutality of his next paragraph by implying that the reader could, possibly, share an embarrassing connection with Cook? Is Sterns even writing about Cook? Or is he writing about Captain Cock? Does Sterns even know what he’s writing about?

Sternovich’s Grade: F+. Radical liberal propaganda with a smattering of white guilt. Just go see the Green Book instead of reading this anti-woman drivel.

Ivan Sternovich, Editor-At-Large, Breitbart.com

Mirroring of the Past

Wasn’t God the one who looked for people to hear his words no matter what they looked like, wasn’t he the one that wished everyone good fortunes and prosperity why is it then that we exclude those that may look different? Why do we look at people of color and think them less holy? I don’t remember God punishing those that had different skin tones then us. The ones to bring about those ideas and notions are the ones that think themselves in the same position as God. No one is above God though, he who has brought all life on earth, he who gave his own life so that we all can live on, then how can we then judge someone by their skin?

When we look at those that are wishing the best for everyone, they usually are people of color. The ones that work hard for little pay is people that are looked down upon. The only fault that people of color seem to have is that they don’t represent being a “real American”. We hear it by a man that speaks of faith so highly but does the opposite of what God would have wanted. He shares the ideals of the faith with the American dream but creates fear against those that don’t represent America. How can that be when those we turn our back, don’t turn their back on us? The saying “thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself” (Matthew 38). Why is it then if God says we must love all and treat everyone equal that we don’t? Why are we influenced to believe and follow such horrible acts to those that look different to the “real American”

This idea that people of color are responsible for crimes why is it only those that aren’t white, white men aren’t holier than others. Only God is, he who saved mankind by sacrificing himself for everyone’s sins. Taking actions such as the War on Drugs to exploit people of color, so people can fear those that look different than them. Using these tactics to enforce the inequality within these groups of people. People of color getting dragged in the media for crimes as if they are the only ones committing them making it impossible for them to go up in the world. They have to work double as hard than the “real Americans” and even then they still face racial profiling, and stereotypes. Barriers and more barriers to make their lives nothing like the ones that see themselves as being above. Yet still they don’t look at those that bring them harm with malice desires all they wish is to be treated the same as the rest.

To those that believe in the words of our God then why don’t you spread his ideals his preaches to everyone? He never looked away from someone that was different to him, he welcomed all. If we preach the ideals of God don’t, we have a duty then to go through with that we preach? We aren’t above God after all, but even God would welcome all without judgement.

Review: I wrote a parody on William Apess’s An Indian Looking Glass for the White men because what he was questioning is what I question now. Everyone speaks of religion being a big part of their lives then why doesn’t that influence them to be better people towards others? Where is the empathy towards the people that are constantly being discriminated towards in society? There is so much going on in front of our eyes and when it is brought to our attention there is no action being taken because it doesn’t affect us personally. Well why say we must be religious? Isn’t it our duty to God to not think of just ourselves but others around us as well? Apess was questioning this very thing in his time and it still hasn’t changed much now. In fact, I think it has evolved creating more disparities and racism. These ideas that people that look different to us should be treated differently is seen in institutions whether it be in macro or micro events.

Comparing my parody to Apess’s work I think it’s not too different, I just tried to connect to his questions on why people with darker complexions were being treated to what is occurring now. My style I would think is like writing this as a continuation or even a letter to Apess because I am speaking on the discrimination in now modern times. People are still very much stuck on these ideals that harm others in society. There is no thought towards them because people who do represent these discriminatory ideals aren’t being affected so they don’t seek out change or hope for change to occur. I think I was more about asking questions that the reader may think about so their views on what is occurring to change, or even reflect on what is occurring around them. I want people to think outside of their problems and see that so many people of color, immigrants, etc. are being treated less than humans. I want to see all people being treated equal just like Apess wanted for the Indians during his time to be achieved.

. Maria Mendiola

Two Sides of the Same Coin

How is Iron Maiden’s heavy metal version of Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” like or unlike Romantic poetry?  Consider how the poem’s use of lyric speaker, imagery, poetic tone, figurative language, and rhythmic beat resonates with the Iron Maiden music video.  Explain your answer through a focused close reading of the poem and the video.

The original poem is rhythmic with various descriptions of imagery. The language is different than the more modern version of Iron Maiden’s heavy metal version. However, both are examples of romantic poetry in their expression one in music, the other written. Often times, poetry was expressed orally giving the audience a sort of storytelling tones. Within the modern heavy metal version, I was able to feel more emotions through the music. Phrases that were singled out were catchy and interested me.  The pace with climactic instances of the poem was highlighted within the song.

Taylor Coleridge’s poem beings with the descriptions of nature within the mariner’s narration. The sea and the omen of the bird all may signify a greater purpose or message to the audience. The Marnier finds himself the sole survivor and teller- of the misfortune tale. Similarly, Iron Maiden’s song expresses a greater significance taken from the poem: “And the thirst goes on and on for them and me…day after day, day after day, we stuck nor breath nor motion as Idle as a painted ship upon on the ocean…,” thus a rhythm that is relatively repeated, and catchy. Moreover, they include themselves along with the Marnier, “for them and me,” this suffering and emotional devastation is not just the Mariner’s experience, but also related to the audience.

The evocation of God stays within the modern telling of the poem which expresses another meaning. All of God’s creatures and things must be loved and respected. If not, harm befalls those that are involved. We as the audience, also obtain this warning. It is not so much about a warning, but about the transcendence of experience. For my modern interpretation, the journey of our life is the ocean.

  • Karla Garcia Barrera

Lucifer’s Myth: Is It What He Deserves?

Olaudah Equiano begins his narrative by letting his audience know that he is no one special and that his story isn’t especially praiseworthy. Instead he wants his audience to focus on the story itself and not himself. He isn’t worthy of becoming a literary classic. In other words he doesn’t consider himself to be myth worthy or that’s what he would have his reader believe to be true. However, there is a tendency towards rooting on the underdog in mythology and the same can be said of Equiano himself. He paints himself as an ordinary figure and in doing so becomes someone you almost want to root for because he doesn’t have it all figured out.

In other words Equiano not only wants to make sure his audience is listening to him and seeing him as someone on their level but also as someone who on the surface doesn’t deserve to be immortalized. Beneath the surface though he wants to be immortalized and one of the best ways to do so is to create comparisons with other mythical figures. One prime example of that can be seen in the Paradise Lost quote that describes shots being fired at him:

“Three shots were also fired at me and another boy who was along with me, one of them in particular seemed

Wing’d with red lightning and impetuous rage;

for with a most dreadful sound it hissed close by me, and struck a rock at a little distance, which it shattered to pieces.” (Pg.84)

Reading the quote within the context of Equiano’s narrative seems a little out of place without previous knowledge of Paradise Lost. For a lot of Equiano’s readers however Paradise Lost would be a work they were well acquainted with and could recognize easily. This means then that they would recognize this quote is from the part in the poem where we find the description of Lucifer’s fall from heaven and his subsequent punishment for rebelling against God.

The obvious move would have been to create a parallel between himself and God to further establish himself in the eyes of the English but instead he does the opposite. He creates a parallel between himself and Lucifer. Why would he align himself with the enemy? Perhaps because all things considered Lucifer is actually rather representative of the underdog that you feel compelled to root for. You know the system Lucifer is rising up against and know that the odds are stacked against him but he’s very seductive and persuasive. You want to give him a chance to succeed. Very similarly Equiano’s narrative, style, and overall image is surprisingly compelling for someone who you expect nothing from. Especially when you know that the system of slavery perpetuated by the English is slowly but surely becoming a strong force to be reckoned with.

The shots being “wing’d with red lightning and impetuous rage” suggests that Equiano’s bid for freedom, by supposedly advocating for abolition, must be punished by the English in the same way Lucifer had to be punished by God for his rebellion. This is the expected response and yet secretly the reader wants to see Equiano succeed in his pursuit for abolition because he seems like the sort of person who maybe deserves it in the end.

By rooting for Equiano and believing in his message we allow him to become a myth despite his insistence in the contrary. (In reality as an audience we have played into Equiano’s trap and immortalized his work by making him seem ordinary and yet worthy of extraordinary praise.) We have made him a myth but is that what he really deserves?

By Diana Lara

The Bullies have a Point

image-1

And keep them in the pale 55  of Words till death. [160]
Whate’er the talents, or howe’er design’d,
We hang one jingling padlock on the mind:
A Poet the first day, he dips his quill;
And what the last? a very Poet still.
Pity! the charm works only in our wall, [165]

[Imagination] is kept in the simple confines of “words”.No matter the talent, and now matter how well articulated, there is one thing on everyone’s mind.A poet is a poet, ink to paper, all they will ever be. A shame, a poet can’t translate their imagination to the reader because of a mental barrier.

Pope satires the church and their teachings, as they think they are on a pedestal. Their constant preaching is read by the “sheep” that they Shepard around. A papal crown adorns his head, as Pope is depicted as a monkey (humans are created in God’s image, but we are just primates). How can mere humans ever possibly comprehend what God would want for them? How can mortal humans even attempt to word what a God would preach?

Unfortunately, Pope’s bullies (critics) are right. Pope is not an outlier and is subject to his same criticism. He is only after-all, a mere poet, yet in The Dunciad, his satire makes him seem pompous. Pope is depicted as a hypocritical rat, adorning the very same crown he made fun of. How fitting there is what appears to be a donkey (ass) right next to him.

-Robert Morales

Prince William and Princess Mary

William: As I should have said unto you woman, your principles were skin deep. Improper and undue would embody the destruction of your stead but might you not defend your virtues too? Might you not fight as your men do? What is the heathen that mingles with savages such as I and mine and their children? Is there some humor here? I should profess to it and so enjoy; I read your text, woman, and I found it worthy of Jesus Christ. Did you know that I read it to him? He came to me and I found his skin like yours. What value is that to you?

Mary: It is a lie.

William: Have we not lied enough in letting you live thus far? You have your chastity  and you have washed your child’s blood off. Those are lies to you? I have read some of your people’s tales and have concluded that you should have luck on your side that you wouldn’t have been forced to do the babe yourself. Do I mourn for your child?

Mary: I don’t know.

William: What should be the matter if I should say I don’t know either? We sold you for timber and that should have been the end of you. The end of us, as it were, and you shall go on without us having ever begun. Here I am, and I am not vengeance. What am I?

Mary: I don’t know.

William: I am Jesus Christ, woman. I take the image of God and do not embrace him not because I do not wish but because I have no need to. God has done nothing for me except leave me to your white man’s paradigm; I breathe in the blood of Christ and hack out the black spittle of God’s intention.

Mary: You are a blasphemer.

William: I submit again that God has done nothing for me. If he had given me skin he had given me tar. My people light fires and chant. My parents were abominations and I color my language like you might yourself with jewels. No man and no God showed me how I might make myself shine and so I am left to conclude, woman, that your eyes are mirrors. There is a reason I asked to be let into your residence. You are finding us amenable people, yes? We have offered –

Mary: My eyes are mirrors?

William: Only so that I might see myself. And then they go and they close again and I forget that you ever even had a child. Have you forgotten as well?

Hello Dear, Mrs Rowlandson

A poem for Mrs. Rowlandson,

Being in captivity only reinforced your hate,

Held hostage by who?

Whatever they tell you to feel? Come on don’t take the bait.

Your dedication to God? He wouldn’t be so cruel

 

Mrs. Rowlandson mother of a litter

We are all children of God, don’t be so bitter.

God created us in his image

But why do you paint me as diminished

 

An extermination of identity, why must you persist

A change of heart must come, don’t resist

Mrs. Rowlandson let me tell you of mankind’s true colors

We all bleed red, our skin is brown, no holler.

 

Indians and Whites are not treated the same

Who is the real savage, with one imposing rule?

When the ruled don’t apply to the rules, how cruel

Your values, what little you possess, are to blame

 

Mrs. Rowlandson you’re trying to reduce me, aren’t you?

Heaven holds a place for those who

don’t hate.

 

-William Apess       (Written by Robert Morales)

A Letter to Mary Rowlandson 151, or 337 Years Later

Dear Mary Rowlandson,

I ask not that you continue your views perplexed but awaken to a truth that I believe you have seen in person. How different is our skin, our way of life, and our culture that you cannot see the similarities, the love, the assimilation of our way of life into yours? We have our families, our hopes, strife, and are all the same in the eyes of God. You may quote the Bible, and so can I. I ask of you, and I recite, “Let us not love in word but in deed” (1 John 3.18). You have had such atrocity afflict you, and the Native or Savages that I come from, have too dealt with atrocity. So, I ask of you, not forgiveness, and I ask of you to not ask forgiveness either, as too much has been done, but to accept peace. What does it matter what we look like? What our way of life is? We may not ever see eye to eye, or trade the kindest of words, but at the very least, I wish for mutual respect for those alive, those who have already suffered, and for those who will live.

Cordially,

William Apess

—Joseph Rojas

King of Disaster

(Apess) In his blood is the savage and the master

With abuse of intoxication

In his blood is the King of disaster

Fighting the bloodline of his doubled-nation

Sent to the monkey house to be damaged

Feeling every inch of his body torn apart

He learned to understand faith filled with baggage

In one God, she (Rowlandson) believed in

With acceptance she took her fate

And they grew closer than they had ever been

They had a society in common

His blood and her captors had a reality in common

She insulted what was part of him

He understood the stance against his line

But through the eyes of the beholder

She saw what was needed to be changed

A life worth living, with a God worth believing

Something that they both agreed upon

She is more deserving than he

And as they fear death, they believe in the same God to be called upon

It all started with a set of a different faith and belief

So much difference, so much color

So much faith, so much odor

Even today

Nowadays you’re a felon for wearing a hoodie and walking alone at night

Should we just start roaming the streets naked and cold, no that’s not right

What’s up with this racial divide?

It turns out we’re all the same

Red blooded and still discriminated because of the pronunciation of our names

No one is wrong for who they are

No one is at fault for who they are

Race is a concept made up to define superiority

over someone else’s life

Don’t be blind

-Rosalinda Flores

Mary, This Ain’t No Twitter Beef, Just a Man Speaking About His Beliefs

 tih89jes_t2 William Appes @BigWill

So, @MaryChildOfGod I came across your “best seller”, “A Narrative of the Captivity”. Before even reading your narrative I expected to be bombarded with outright racism, and I wasn’t wrong. You called my people #BarbarousCreatures, you said they made your town look like a –

11:02 PM – 2/19/19 – Twitter for iPhone

“Living hell”. Yet what makes you any different than me? Is it the color of my skin? You claim to be loyal to God. You say that you read your scriptures everyday. Or do you just skim through the parts that only benefit you? Do you not recall reading Matthew 22:29?

11:06 PM – 2/19/19 – Twitter for iPhone

“Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself”. Why is it that you don’t enforce all parts of Christianity as you say you do? The color of my people’s skin immediately draw a reaction out of you. How can you expect us not to fight back?

11:10 PM – 2/19/19 – Twitter for iPhone

We were here before your people arrived. Peaceful, unbothered by anyone. You claimed our land, you didn’t respect our beliefs, you tried to convert us to your religion. You killed thousands of us. Yet, we’re the #BarbarousCreatures

11:15 PM – 2/19/19 – Twitter for iPhone

Of course, there’s bad apples. There always are. And I sympathize for you. It can’t be easy losing a child right in your arms. And although I do not know how that feels, I know several of my people who do.

11:21 PM – 2/19/19 – Twitter for iPhone

Mothers who have had their children killed in front of them. Noble men slaughtered, fighting a war that they shouldn’t even have been a part of. Families torn apart. My people are #BarbarousCreatures, as you say.

11:27 PM – 2/19/19 – Twitter for iPhone

And I know there’s nothing I can say that will change your mind on that, Mary. But perhaps if we really are these #BarbarousCreatures as you say, you should pause and ask yourself, “What made us become like this”? Good night. ✌️😴

11:33 PM – 2/19/19 – Twitter for iPhone

-Arturo Raudales