It ended, and we woke up
A delegation of Catholic priests, nuns and lay leaders were among hundreds of people from Chicago and the suburbs who marched from Maywood to Broadview on Saturday in hopes of delivering Holy Communion to detainees at the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement processing facility.
But after approaching Illinois State Police officers standing outside the facility, the group’s communion request was rebuffed.
“Accepting $50,000 for doing what, George?” Vance said. “I am not even sure I understand the question. Is it illegal to take a payment for doing services? The FBI has not prosecuted him. I have never seen any evidence that he’s engaged in criminal wrongdoing.”
In a 1959 interview, screened in part at SerlingFest, Serling spoke about a teleplay he’d written inspired by the murder of Emmett Till. By the time the censors were finished with it, he said, it “bore no relationship at all to what we had purported to say initially.” Any mention of race was removed, the setting shifted from the South to New England; even Coca-Cola bottles were struck from the set, out of fear viewers would connect the soda to the South. “I think it’s criminal that we’re not permitted to make dramatic note of social evils as they exist, of controversial themes as they are inherent in our society,” Serling said.
Attribution
By the time the apocalypse began, the world had already ended. It ended every day for a century or two. It ended, and another ending world spun in its place. It ended, and we woke up and ordered Greek coffees, drew the hot liquid through our teeth, as everywhere, the apocalypse rumbled, the apocalypse remembered, our dear, beloved apocalypse—it drifted slowly from the trees all around us, so loud we stopped hearing it. — from The World Keeps Ending, and the World Goes On by Franny Choi