Maycomb Newspaper

The Ohio Floods

Shocking sky-view of the devastation

 The Ohio river has reached it´s highest level in recorded history. The worst flooding in over 175 years, including the flood of 1884 and 1773.

Over 150,000 residents have ran from the city of Lousiville due to extreme flooding. Reports say that over half the city is submerged in water from the Ohio river, and that the water level is continuing to rise.

385 have been reported dead or missing thus far, and the government is checking in for 500 million dollars of property damage. Nation wide there have been 1 million people displaced.

These floodwaters have been an issue for 11 days now, the first flood warnings were sent out on the 10th of January but the Ohio river has continued to rise at worrying rates since then.

Worry over the flood waters has even reached as far south as Maycomb.
“If the floodwaters reach Maycomb we are doomed, me and my family don't have a house strong enough to keep back floodwaters and we don't have enough time to build dikes” said John Ewell, the oldest son and second oldest sibling of the Ewell family. Many worry that the Ohio´s raging waters will soon reach Alabama, and it does leave one to ask. Will the flood reach Maycomb?

Official reports say no. Although northen Tennessee has received some flooding the South has been left almost completely untouched and it is very unlikely that the water will go any father than that. Maycomb, unlike towns farther north, is safe from the devastation.

Alabama has been left completely untouched by this wrathful rainstorm , thank God for that.

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Maycomb Lynchings on The Rise

In recent times residents from around the county have been taking matters into their own hands and have decided to hang and torture suspected offenders. The victims of the lynchings are almost always Negro males. They corner suspects, humiliating them then killing them before the court has a chance to condemn them guilty or pardon them.

Many whites view this as form of justice. They believe that this way true justice can be dealt. "My son died at a black man´s hands. I´m sure of it. The court wasn`t ready to sentence him to death, but I knew it from the beginning. Me and a few of my friends gave him what he deserved.". Lynchers believe that what they are doing is right, and that the court system here in Maycomb isn't harsh enough on offenders, especially blacks.

First Purchase, along with other elements of the Negro community argue that these lynchings are purely racist, and that they have no basis in justice and redemption and more so in hate and cruelty. "Many of the men getting lynched have never done anything wrong in their lives. Church-going innocents with the worlds warmest hearts are being hung on the trees simply because they are Negro´s and people dont like them".
First Purchase may have a point. Some lynchings are almost random and it´s hard to know if all people who are lynched have even been accused of a crime, let alone are guilty of one.

This may be a pressing issue in Maycomb´s future.

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Obituary on Bob Ewell

In the past few years Bob Ewell had always lived as humble man, living with the rest of his large family near the city´s trash dump. He lived a rudimentary life with them, mainly keeping to himself and not bothering anyone. He was an honest man and no one had any problems with him. Although not that many people knew him, no one who did disliked him, he was a quiet type. The type that keep to themselves usually.

Then, his life was turned upside down. His oldest daughter, Mayella Ewell was raped by a Negro by the name of  Tom Robinson(now deceased). He stayed strong, standing next to his daughter as she was cruelly forced to remember and recite what had happened that terrible night to the entire town. He stood tall and strong and was there for her,  staying strong in the court room and keeping it together for his family.

His strength in front of the entire town will hopefully be what he is remembered for, because just recently he was found dead, his own knife in his stomach, his back propped up against an oak tree. No one really knows why he did it. All we can really do is remember the man he was and send help to his family, who will miss him dearly.


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Dear Editor,

I would like to ask you a sincere question, what happens in years from now? And no, I do not mean in five years or ten years or even twenty years. I mean in the future, way past us. Better put, what do they think about what is happening now? The Negro community is slowly gaining power. Up North they are nearly being treated as equals! What about in Europe, don´t they already frown down upon us for our more conservative ways?

When people look back at us, if the Negros have their way and are our equals, what will the world think of us? Will be ignorants imbeciles who upheld ancient unjust ways? Will we be scorned by the then modern-world?

Editor, what I`m saying is that do we seriously think that in years from now people will understand. I was grown as a proud white and already I hear people from the North saying we are all ignorant bigots. What is going to happen to us in the future? Will people look back at our culture with pride or will all else be blown away by the fact that our lifestyle was once based off something they completly disagree with. Will my great grandchildren not want to speak my name because I took part in lynchings?

Sincerely,
A proud white.

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Editorial: Maycombs Courts

Are our courts really fair? Our judges, yes, our lawyers, yes, of course. But the real question is, is the system as a whole fair to all people under God and this nation? Let me answer that for you, hell no. It doesn't take a genius to notice that blacks get convicted for any crime a hell lot easier than whites do. Is that because our judges trial them unfairly, probably not, they are trained to be fair to all peoples, regardless of race and line of work. Is this because of lawyers on the defense do not attempt to protect the Negro´s because they are racist? No, many lawyers like Atticus Finch fight viciously a losing battle in an attempt to save the possibly innocent men and women and give them a chance in court.

So if our judges and lawyers are all fair, what´s ruining the system? That is after all all a court really needs, isn't  it?
Unfortunately, in this small town of Maycomb we have jury´s, and in those juries are racist whites who would rather die than to deem a Negro man innocent of any crime, regardless of it´s punishment and the obviousness of his innocence. They ruin the balance of our court systems by brining in race as a powerful factor into deciding whether or not the suspect should be guilty as charged.

Jury´s should be revised for KKK members or known lynchers, these men in such powerful places destroy Maycomb´s sense of justice.

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LOTF: Book vs. Movie(1990 version)

 Although much of the books action was captured in the film, it failed to perpetrate the allegory, character and plot development, as well the whole feel and mood of the book.

In the 1990 version of Lord Of The Flies, the conch was just the shell they used to call meetings, not a huge symbol of civilization and democracy as it was in the book. There was no connection whatsoever to what was happening in the outside world, no allegory towards Nazi Germany at all. Partially because Harry Hook decided that a group of disciplined English schoolboys could be easily replaced with a bunch of potty mouthed American Military Cadets who came as one huge group instead of a union of many small ones. There was no Lord Of The Flies scene in the movie which was in one sense the climax of the storyline. A connection to The Catholic Church and The Devil was completely absent in the film. Harry Hook just decided that the title of the book meant absolutely nothing and trashed that whole part of the storyline. Instead of a union of society then a segregation of it, it started with a brief period of union.

Many characters were bluntly nameless or just non-existent in the movie, Sam and Eric didn’t have names and it's like Harry Hook completely forgot about half of the boys and just decided to leave them out. Even the characters who were there were missing some of their fundamental attributes. Piggy's words filled with wisdom and logic are replaced with whining and crying. Ralph's bravery, remorse, and self blame was slightly captured in the movie. Yet, Ralph did have a few annoying attributes which were absent in the book, for one, he was a snotty American potty mouthed brat just like Jack. Jack was just... wow. Apart from the fact that both Ralph and Jack didn't look their parts Jack was by far the worst portrayed character. In the book, he was obviously evil but being evil doesn’t necessarily mean he was a complete and utter idiot as Harry Hook thought he quite clearly was. The amount of language which was spewing out of Jack's mouth was one worthy of much note.


The Island and the whole paradise feel of it was completely absent. With no halicunations the feel of the tribes men was pure evil. With no real beast in the story the whole point of the revolution was non-existent. Harry Hook failed miserably to capture the Lord Of The Flies into a book. If he had even got the mood right it would have been 20 times better, but quite frankly, he did not. It's an embarrassment to the book that even some of the most basic scenes were switched with all-new ones which weren't even part of the book in the first place. Also, the fact that they were suddently Americans in the time of the Cold War slaughtered the whole ironic feel and pretty much killed off any hope for the movie at the very start.


In conclusion, Harry Hook should have probably never titled it Lord Of The Flies. If he had called it something else and said it had been based very loosely off Lord Of The Flies then changed the characters names it would have passed as a perfectly normal movie and wouldn't be the brunt of shunning movie reviews who despise it. In fact, if he had named it anything different, very few people would have known it had much to do with Lord Of The Flies, because it was just that bad.

Lord Of The Flies: My Version

Red And Black, Blood and Dirt.

Twigs and branches snapped under his bare feet, blood forming up like a small coat over his toes, his nails with a thick layer of dirt clogging them up. Scratches pulse on his chest as he breathes heavily, sprinting for cover, running from the claws of his own tribe. The creepers are heavy but he breaks thorough them, ignoring the cuts which seem to consume his once handsome face. Finally, he can hear their yells no longer, he dives into the undergrowth. Samneric were right, they were after him. His friends, his tribe, the people who he had lead. They were after him, and they were going to kill him.

Roger's double ended spear lay at his feet, he was squatting down, bent over and pondering the upcoming hunt. Jack was weak, all bark and no bite, too scared to kill a human, too proud to admit defeat. Roger smiled the smile of one with grim pleasure. The grin of a lion as it gets ready to pounce on it's prey. Roger was ready.

Jack stood before his uneasy group of savages, his mask covering up his gloomy discontent.

“Everyone, be ready!” the chief yelled.

“Ready for what? He's one big 'un, it'll be easy.” Roger cut in.

Jack ignored Roger, continuing with his intended to be monologue.

“ We are going to hunt him down! Grab your spears and stay alert.”

“Stay alert? It's just Ralph”

Finally, he could take it no longer

“Shut up! He is the old chief and he can fight, he is dangerous. Also call for me if you find him. It's too risky to hunt him without your chief,” Jack announced, “We'll light a fire, we'll find him. Then I'll do him and we can have fun again”

Yet still a wave of unease enveloped the savages, Ralph was now dangerous. Some heads turned ever so slightly from their chief in power to another figure. One with an aura of danger, but at the same time, a sense of protection. Crouching down, spears in his hands, yet now silent under the chief's orders.

Ralph had found a small place in the forest, surrounded by vines he lay in the deep cool night, with no shelter but the green around him. A feeling of warm safekeeping and even familiarity surrounds Ralph as he crouches, pulling the vines back, ready to hide for the next few hours.

Heat woke Ralph. Heat which didn't burn like the sun did on the Island, but another kind. Ralph woke up to the scratching, slicing claws of flame. Ralph burst through the cover of vines, picking up foliage as he went, breaking into a sprint.

Ralph needed to get far, far away from the fire.

“Roger, follow me”. The chief called for him.

Roger followed, grasping the shaft of his one ended spear with an look of confidence. Jack and Roger ran thorough the remaining creepers, around the gaping mouth of heat and flame which had eaten up most of the Islands flora.

“Where is he?”

“We'll find him. We'll do him in.” Roger mumbled

Then Ralph burst out of the bushes.

Before Jack could call for the rest of the hunters he was on the floor, whirled and punched around by Ralph's fists. Driven by fury, resentment, and hatred Jack was knocked once and once again down into the earth by Ralph.

Ralph picked up a large rock and swung it over his head. That's when Roger swung his spear. It's shaft hit Ralph straight in the back sending him writhing in pain on the floor.

Jack moans, trying to recover himself and the dark figure pulls back his spear for the finishing blow.

A burning piglet, squealing and screeching from pain bursts through the bushes and disorients Roger just long enough for Ralph to get up and run.

Ralph knew that if he stopped running he would die, so he just kept going.

“Why isn't he calling for help?” Jack was worried

“Roger will be fine on his own”

And that, Jack recognized, was the problem.

He ran to the one place they wouldn’t be. Castle Rock.

Standing near the cliff, holding one of the spears Samneric had dropped Ralph waited for Roger to arrive. After what seemed like an eternity, Roger burst out of the bushes to meet the shaft or Ralph's spear.

Scuffling, stabbing, dodging rolling. Roger is above of Ralph, lifting his weapon up high, ready for the kill this time.

The end makes a squishing sound as it breaks through the skin, blood pours out from the wound, covering both of them with gore. Roger gapes, his eyes wide with disbelief. He regurgitated blood, letting it spill all over Ralph's face.

Ralph staggers backwards and sat down, breathing heavily and gasping for breath. Roger's warm, thick blood was smeared over his chest, mixing with his sweat, becoming a part of him. He shudders and kicks the corpse over the edge. Over the cliff, far away from Ralph. He looks up from the cliff edge and his heart stops. In the horizon he can see a ship rushing towards the Island and the giant twisting, twirling tower of smoke which bent to the will of the wind.

As it got closer, Ralph saw it's flag, it's colors, of which he had been taught to hate with all his heart and soul. But honestly, he didn't care anymore. He truly had no hate left that he was willing to give.

Sighing, Ralph sits down with the fragments of Piggy's conch lying still on the cliff. He brushes some hair that he picked up by accident from where he hid from the night. It's dark, thin and long, and covered in Roger's blood.

He lies back, watching as the ship gets closer and closer to the island, he can't the roar of the fire , the yells of savages. In silence he sits there in the remains of the Conch, his conch. The boat gets closer and closer, but as the enemy draws nearer all he can feel is relief that it's over. Finally, after what seemed like years, he would be safe. There was silence, no screams at night no crying litte 'un's, no crackling of fires.

All is quiet at Castle Rock.

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I chose the point in the story when Ralph is first starting to be hunted by the other because from there it would have been much easier to alter the end. By giving a different, more obvious build up of conflict between Roger and Ralph and finishing it differently. I ALTERED the end of Lord Of The Flies instead of completely changing it because I believe that although the end could have been better the main idea of it was exactly what it needed. I added in Roger's death because that way it show's loss of innocence on both side's and not only with the hunters. It also conveys that the more malicious figure of them all was destroyed at great cost. It adds on to the WW2/Nazi era metaphor which Golding created.

Lord Of The Lies

Jack relies on the
countless tales he tells, the ones
of  hellish beasts and
hate filled eyes, all with, coated with
lies, strung tight, firmly tied.

You Can't Have It All

But you can have a cheap pizza with cheese like rubber, it's tomato sauce with a hint of green.
You can have the soft, icy touch of water, waking you up at 4AM, telling you your AC is broken.
You can have the purr a cat and the hiss of a wounded stray, a look that can only mean I'll get you later, and when it's November, you can have time and abundantly so. You can have love, and lot's of it, when she wants you too, like a teeter-totter swinging back and forth, love to hate, then love to love.
You can have irritated friends, aggravated by the fact that "You can't keep your hands off each other".
You can have a worn down soul, toughened up like the bottom of your shoes,
 never not ready to tread on thin ice,
or needles and spikes.
You can have now, smiles and fun, flirting and a little bit of hurting, knowing that you're going to say goodbye.
You can have the pain and pleasure of living far away, far from the family's that you adore and abhor with such a pleasant passion, one that fills your heart every time you are dragged away from friends far too early in the summer vacation. You can't ever get back what you've lost, but you can have late night chats and long distance phone calls, ready for use, for they'll soon be needed.
You can have the grass on your brand new cleats, the wind in your face, and the bruises and scabs on your knees, reminding you that when you fall it shall leave a mark. Although not forever.
You can have music blasting through your headphones, so loud, so proud, so that everyone can hear it, and you still won't care. You can have the Sweet and Sour candy bag which would blatantly remind you of your relationship with a certain someone, if there were twice as many sweets than sour.  You can have arguments with your family, awkward dinners with tension drowning out the taste of your spicy Asian foods. You can't count on anyone to pull you out of a pit, but you can have someone waiting patiently at the surface,she's laughing to herself, very quietly. So when you clamber out, she'll be there for you, and you'll know why she waited when the others went on. So you'll know why you bothered to drag yourself out in the first place.
And when all else fails, you can still grab a pack of cookies, open up a comic book filled with childhood memories, sit yourself down and remember all you couldn't leave behind.
You can have the most painful thing you'll ever have to say,
"Love you, goodbye."

PUNK

Poetry Notebook: People I Give A Damn About

The best if times are always found when friends and family gather round-Unknown

Description:
With the end of year coming, and with half of our grade moving, it's time to figure out what really matters to you. More so, who really matters to you. This collection of work is about the people I give a damn about. My friends, my family, my brother, my life, and a little more. With quite  a few people going(including myself) I think  it's time that I dedicated something to them. To my friends, my family, my brother, and all the others that I really give a damn about.

Synopsis: This is a collection of poems is about people who I care about.


When A Woman Loves A Man by David Lehman
The Family Group by Madeline DeFrees
We Who Are Your Closest Friends by Phillip Lopate
Miss You by Anonymous
Untitled by Nancy Langomarsino
Battle Of Will & Exhaustion, Mother and Child by Jenny Factor
From The Lives of My Friends by Micheal Dickman
Your Catfish Friend by Richard Brautigan

Royal Flush- Benjamin Moore- 2076-20

Family and friends,
our turns revolve around the table.
Like a roulette ball,
spinning on it's wheel,
waiting to stop,
waiting to land.

There are plenty high hands
here tonight.
Still, none are the perfect.

None are the cards,
The hand,
The group of four or five,
One would always dream of.

The Rodriguez family.
A three of a kind that should be a four,
One card missing from the deck.

The Otways.
A pair of Jacks,
And an unloving Queen

Sammy is playing with his chips,
His hand slips
and dark red chips topple over,

they spill like blood over the table.

He is awake while Zach is fast asleep.
Sick again,
Awaiting the care
The attention,
of his mother.

The Carlsons,

A Full house
Three Kings,
Two Queens.

Then there's us.
Ace, King, Queen, Jackass.
All of spades.

Nearly enough,
but not quite.

We don't make a Royal Flush.