Big Roscoe: "Welcome to the post-daylight-saving time edition of ‘Clubb Chicken Wing's Def Poetry Jam with Hot Sauce.' We have a virgin about to recite something to you. And he told me that he also brought a big ol' hot pot of food for the soul in the back of the Clubb Chicken Wing kitchen. Coming to the microphone to share his soul with the people, welcome the Qweem-O-Wheat Man."
Qweem-O-Wheat Man: "I feel a chill in the air. Is it because of cold winds suffocating the warmth of hope? I clothe myself in layers, but parts of me remain exposed. The frostbite of the vengeful and apathetic souls—misled by cold accounts of corporate-sponsored mass-media news stories and entertainment-television shows—numbs my vulnerable skin, while the frigid air makes me shiver as I experience the attitudes of coldhearted people mocking my existence.
"That's OK; I'll press on, encourage myself, stay warm and be inspired by the words of Gil Scott Herron, musician, poet and songwriter, who penned these lyrics in 1973: ‘Now it's winter in America. And ain't nobody fighting because nobody knows what to save.'
"So I say to you: ‘Save your own souls and warm up with a dee-wishious, hot, creamy bowl of Qweem-O-Wheat.' I have plenty of it for you all to eat and enjoy, along with a Bubba Robinski Spicy Soy Protein Sausage Biscuit and a hot cup of coffee.
"Thank you. I got a hot pot in the back."
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