National Hurricane Center’s NOAA 11 p.m. report has Queen Bitch Dorian (and, yes, we are aware it’s a binary gender name, but to be fair we’ve called all genders Queen Bitches) 30 miles from Wilmington. Winds are still 100 mph, but the storm has picked up speed, like any good partier would, to 13 mph.
Also, do you still have power? Seriously, can’t believe we still do. And what are we gonna do with all this extra (almost melted) ice?
While drinking whiskeys and enduring Dorian’s soft wrath, my friend, Ryan Small, and I have redacted (with a Sharpie, nonetheless) The New Colossus to better represent the current state of our nation. This is what happens when boredom sets in.
You’re welcome. You had no idea you needed this until now. Or maybe you don’t, but entertain us nonetheless.
EMMA LAZARUS Not Like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With Conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at Our sea-washed , sunset gates shall stand
mighty woMan with A torch, whose flame Is the Imprison ed lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows World-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-b ridged harbor that twin cities frame. “Keep, Ancient lands , your storied pomp!” cries she With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor, Your Huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched Refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, The homeless tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp Beside the golden door!”
In case you can’t read it with redactions, here it is without all those extra, unnecessary words.
The New Us
Like the brazen giant of fame,
Conquering from land to land;
Our sea-washed gates shall stand
A man, a torch whose flame
World-wide eyes command
“Give me tired, poor, huddled masses
“Yearning to refuse the homeless
“Beside the golden door!”
Don’t be like our rewrite. Help your neighbors—the homeless, the tired, the poor. And take care of yourself tonight, ILM.