At Virginia’s State Capitol this past Tuesday, protestors from near and far and across the aisle rioted together as one to fight for a necessary cause: the Pro-Spicy Sweet Chili Movement.
A series of unexplainable events indicate that the Founding Fathers sense foul play in the District of Columbia.
The nation was shocked today when they heard that ISIS claimed responsibility for the 45 minute flight delay of United Airlines flight 357. Departing from Denver International Airport at 9;35 A.M, the flight was scheduled to take off when all of a sudden, the unimaginable occured- the flight was delayed.
This week's Melanin Speaking column piece comes from Noah Laroia-Nguyen, who discusses being mixed in America. “As a mixed person it is often easy to feel as if you have lost your agency, your choice, and your personhood. The labels and names placed onto you can feel like they are erasing the person underneath. My goal for this work is to reclaim our labels and give us a voice. I hope that these photos let you know that you are not alone and you are not invisible.”
With the threat of the government shutdown looming, Republican Congressmen suggest an alternative to Trump's wall.
Savannah McHugh, outgoing Almanac editor, went missing last week after leaving her home for unknown reasons. Friends and family members came up with many theories as to where Savannah could have gone, but none seemed satisfactory.
I've cried because of hurt Because of happiness Because of understanding and the things from them that mis(s) I have cried because of loss Because of gain Because my mind can never differentiate good and bad The same decipher of glad and mad I've cried because of tears Because of the warmth down one's cheek Like a grandmother's kiss Or a mother’s rubbed knuckle I have cried because I could And with no knowledge of what it means to let go I continue to let tears pour Down my face like water trickling from the shower A wet collar Often stained with black from materials in which makes me look beautiful I have cried And as tears pour down my face I am reminded of my problem That letting go is harder than taking in That even the sturdiest bag does too break That sooner or later, that drenched towel must be wrung dry I have cried And just like being stuck out in the middle of winter for too long I have become numb to the idea of what it means to stop
UW Madison sophomore Fineas Anpherb was reportedly lost for words Election Day evening after discovering that there was in fact no referendum on Wisconsin’s infamously poor road conditions. “Man, I’m super shook right now,” the young political science major said last night, disheveled hair betraying his state of shock.
After Jim Acosta maliciously guided a female intern’s hand off his microphone at a White House press meeting on Wednesday, Janesville resident Jared Williamson reacted in disbelief.
After Remarkable Success of Trumpy Bear, Partisan Plushie Manufacturers Set to Unveil New Line of Stuffed ToysBy Nick Rawling | Nov. 28, 2018
On Monday, Fox News viewers were introduced to “Trumpy Bear,” a stuffed bear resembling the president in attire and hairstyle.
The recent addition to Madison’s Henry Vilas Zoo, Arctic Passage, has left local “animal lovers,” and the rest of the zoo’s unsuspecting and indifferent “bystander-type” visitors, starstruck.
Swipe Left, Swipe Right Who will I swipe tonight, Am I looking for some fun? Or am I looking for the one? Swipe Left, Swipe Right I got a new match, DM, Alright, Swipe Left, Swipe Right “I’ve never dated a black women before...” Unmatched, God, not another one! Swipe Left, Swipe Right How did my friend meet the one? Did she swipe 24 hours a day, Was she even having fun? Swipe Left, Swipe Right DM, “Dinner and a movie tonight?” I guess that sounds like fun Swipe Left, Swipe Right One date, two dates, I think it’s going well Ghosted. Swipe Left, Swipe Right Is this millennial love? Boiled down to a few math algorithms And superficial profiles Swipe Left, Swipe Right I could swipe all night Will I ever be happy? Delete.
Tuesday saw a record turnout at polls across Wisconsin and ended up flipping the House in favor of Democrats and the Senate in favor of Republicans.
This powerful short story is written by Kellen Sharp and is inspired by the tales of indigenous creation and exploration. There once was a village girl, they called her Goat Eyes She grew up in a home two parts mosquitos, one part malaria. Food was scarce, winter was coming but winter was never as cold As the people’s shoulders turned when she begged them for food, her family was starving. Her mother told her that her father was lost at sea, but she knew he lost himself in alcohol. Goat Eyes yearned for bottles of fresh water, and the handsome farmer boy Would always save her some before watering the plants But something about the air was different, a storm was coming. He wasn’t at his usual post selling tomatoes, she couldn’t go back empty handed Her sisters could only suck so much life out of their mother’s chest before she was lost to the journey. She had to find something, suddenly her ears bucked, she heard her name called. An elder stood before her, Goat Eyes bowed to her as the elephants bowed to water holes. Just as thirsty Goat Girl said, “My oh my, Elder what do I need do you have water to spare to me?” The elder said, “Let me think oh let me think, do I have something to drink.” “Yes I do, but you won’t like what I will ask in return of you.” Goat Eyes thought of her family. She was uneasy but she had always been taught to listen to her elders so she conceded. “My family is hungry, whatever you can give me is better than nothing.” The elder smirked and said, “I only ask one thing, they call me the centipede, I crawl into Your head and peer in your dreams, I know what you think of that handsome younger farmer boy, you want to do the unholy, if you sacrifice your lust I’ll give all the water that you can drink Your family will never have to worry about you if you never thirst again.” Goat Eyes thought, she had grown to love farmer boy for his generosity. He was so giving in her time of need, but she admitted lately she’d had feelings of thirst water couldn’t quench, only him. But her family meant much more, she agreed. Startled by a drum of thunder she turned and dove for the ground, when she got back the elder had vanished. Suddenly droplets of water started on her face, and then on her garb, then pretty soon the whole village was drenched in fresh water. It rained all winter, then spring, then summer, then autumn, then winter again for three years. The third year the farmer boy had returned, exchanging his garden tools for a ship’s sail. He arrived, muscular and seasoned by the sea, instantly he recognized her and she him. Forgetting her promise, she lay with him in his home the fourth year of rain In the morning Goat Eyes got out of bed and listened, no rain. She turned toward the farmer boy, horrified at what she witnessed. Centipedes scuttled in and out of his ears and in and out of his nose, his eyes were scooped out And blood soaked into the dirt. She ran out of her home only to her mother’s home only to see she and her children, but they had Met the same fate, the sun was intensely hot. Goat Eyes buckled to her knees and yelled to the top of her lungs Her screams started to change from shrill to booming, heavy, her hands and legs grew heavier still. She got on all fours and bucked, hooves sprouted from her hands and She watched the elder walk towards her. “You went back on your promise the water must go, since you are so lustful, you must Spend the rest of your life as a Goat.” Goat Eyes trotted to the evaporating watering hole and kneeled down to look at her reflection. Gigantic goat horns had sprouted from her head, she cried for months at the watering hole, Praying for the water to return; the gods must’ve heard her because one day it did, But with it came elephants, and in her sleep, as the elephant bowed before the watering hole, She was crushed, they say it rained for years after her death, and still even to this day, Goats are sacrificed for the rain.
This week’s “Small Talk” is another beautiful poem from Melanin Speaking writer Jessica Sullivan, showing the importance of creativity and ingenuity. let’s make a painting. we’ll need all the colors for this one, burgundy, sapphire, teal, gold, brown. pick up your brush don’t you see this space is waiting for us? we’ll unleash a wheelhouse watch our colors collide what we’ll create will be breathtaking.