[SPEAKER_06]: Посмотрите, что они сделали вчера вечером. Отлично смотрите. Отец Фагана объявил, что мой отец объявил. Бром вышел на пенсию за это, поэтому мы очень благодарны. Для наших добровольцев и людей Рииз и Илия были там. Они продали несколько книг.
[SPEAKER_00]: На самом деле, мой партнер, Шейла, я не могу выйти.
[SPEAKER_06]: Галель сидит на шагах, чтобы помочь выступить здесь. И, конечно же, есть Терри Картер, поэтому в общественном центре Западного Западного западного Медфорда. Это постоянный элемент сообщества как великого поэта. Всё хорошо. О, что я сделал? Джим и Обрус помогли каким -то камере работать на выходных. Таким образом, даже в этих вещах это все еще требует различного финансового вклада для его достижения. Если вы посмотрите на наш баннер, мы должны быть там для большинства доноров. Конечно, сообщество Медфорда является Западным общественным центром Медфорда Медфордского художественного совета и Фонда Медфорда Пулана и Медфорда. Это также наш первый год в качестве поставщика продуктов питания.
[SPEAKER_00]: Внутри торта Дании.
[SPEAKER_06]: Они создали самое впечатляющее распространение. Между двумя командами пойдут к ним. Есть также туалеты для тех, кому нужно их воспользоваться. Да, есть Tranian Manor, местная компания по футболке, которая делает для всех отличных рубашек и делает ее медленной. Есть также некоторые отдельные спонсоры, в том числе те, кто регистрируется на нашей странице Patreon. Это ежемесячная подпись, которая имеет значение в создании интерференционных сессий с другими программами в течение года. QR -коды повсюду для тех, кто хочет пожертвовать в Venmo, которые посещали фестиваль Jazz Medford, а также на этой конкретной странице покровителя, являются отличной поддержкой. Отлично, поэтому я думал, что это все. Я все еще чувствую, что забыл забыть кого -нибудь, но вернусь позже, и Терри Корор расскажет вам эту группу и пространство.
[Terry Carter]: Спасибо, спасибо, спасибо. Джонатан Фаган - фасилитатор и основатель фестиваля Jazz Medford, Великого пианино и всего, что касается музыки, так что вы услышите его раньше, вы скоро услышите его. Это общественный центр Западного Медфорда. Мы занимались бизнесом в течение 90 лет. Мы ядро Медфордские общины не являются - атомами, вы знаете, мы хороши в секретной реке. У нас есть долгая история в Рио -де -Жоджанруо и на трех улицах и все, что вы услышите позже. Но мы хотим пойти прямо к нам, мы хотим убедиться, что не сокращаем время Наше первое действие завтра. Для тех, кто с нами прошлой ночью, мы поцеловали в то же время с двумя командами, в которых мы играли с последней ночью, и звезда рассвета в Musice Academy была ужасной. Тогда Нита Вау и г -жа Ээн и команды, я имею в виду, что мы очень счастливы. Они позволили мне прыгнуть перед завершением ночи, так что все в порядке. Так что спасибо. Дебби поет с джазовыми играми прошлой ночью, это здорово. Что ж, тогда наша первая суббота - Ретез Де -Самба, принес избранное с тем же названием, что и Джейкоб де Бандолим. Это означает, что на португальском языке я нашел его в источнике, Формула Samba, названная группой приложений, - это способ показать вкус многих бразильской музыки в чистых формах, которые не имеют искусственной добавки, мне нравится любить камень или электромобиль. Шеф -повар, муж, муж и жена, Анна, Дети и Билс Уорд, и на основе бразильской музыкальной индустрии живет в Бостоне
[Unidentified]: Просто лучшее.
[Terry Carter]: Буседа Новой и лучшая самба Новой, а также региональная специализированная специализация, такая как Форд, Ихеча и Коко.
[Clayton]: Я бы хотел, чтобы я отлично поработал.
[Terry Carter]: Я знаю своего бразильца, нет. ОК Аннана возникла от Ресифи, Пернамбуко, который начал свою карьеру в бразильских песнях в клубе и кино.
[Unidentified]: Наконец, он научился играть на гитаре и перечислил в музыкальной школе в Бразилии, где он выучил свой голос Джейн Дюбос находится в коралловом комплексе для изучения древних и популярных методов.
[Terry Carter]: После многих лет сотрудничества с гитарным ковчем, Алькантара я переехал в Бостон, и началось музыкальное сотрудничество Биллват, Белло, Бельгов. Он фортепиано, гитара, гитара и певец, и он находит очень глубокий музыкальный мир. Я люблю это. Это стихотворение. Это началось с того, что джазипский художник выиграл разочарование учеников старших классов, а затем учился в Dan-and-Sam de Maguros в музыке музыки. Он получил свой первый рекорд в возрасте 13 лет, но не университет Это действительно поэзия в вихре бразильской музыки. Недавно он застрял в древней фортепианной империи в поисках опыта фортепиано на фортепиано в Бостонском университете, который он учился у Гойя Шаррон и Гилдштейна. Джентльмен и друзья не опоздали, читайте Самбу.
[Clayton]: Я пришел к тетям, я пришел к тете, чешский Город меня прощает. Я не знаю, что вы знаете эту замечательную жизнь. Город меня прощает. Думаю, я пошел ко мне, думаю, я умру. Город меня прощает. Внешний Прости меня, но я не знаю, что ты знаешь, что жизнь прекрасна без меня Мы тебя любим! Удачи!
[SPEAKER_02]: Большое спасибо. Первая песня - это не Карлос Вира, и вы знаете, что он бог Busha Nova. Так что, если поздно и прости меня. Это название. Я постараюсь перевести.
[SPEAKER_05]: Я не хорош в этом, но я думаю, что вы найдете то, что я пою о них.
[SPEAKER_02]: Так что следующая работа похожа на влияние джаза. Тогда влияние джазовой музыки. Так что это как песня, которая мне также нравится джаз и мощное влияние. Итак, когда вы говорите о его владельцах, но у джаза это есть. И вы знаете, вы увидите, как идти.
[SPEAKER_05]: បុក / ករ បុក / ករ , Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Running, Running, Running, Running, Running, Running, Running, Running, Running, Running, Running, RUNNING, RUNNING, RUNNING, RUNNING, RUNNING, RUNNING, RUNNING, RUNNING, RUNNING, RUNing Running, running, ដំណើរការរត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់ដំណើរការរត់រត់,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, Запустить, запустить, запускать, запускать, запустить, запускать, запускать, запускать, запускать, запускать, запускать, запускать, запускать, запускать, запускать, запускать, запустить, запускать, запускать, запускать, запустить, запускать, запустить, запускать, запустить, запустить, запускать, запускать, запустить, запустить, запустить, запустить, запустить, запустить, запустить, запустить, запустить, запустить, រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់, រត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់, រត់រត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់និងរត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់។, រត់រត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់និងរត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់។ រត់រត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់និងរត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់។, កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់និងរត់រត់រត់និងរត់រត់រត់និងរត់រត់និងរត់រត់។
[Unidentified]: Рвать
[Clayton]: បុក / ករ បុក / ករ , Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go, Running, Running, Running, Running, Running, Running, Running, Running, Running, Running, Running, RUNNING, RUNNING, RUNNING, RUNNING, RUNNING, RUNNING, RUNNING, RUNNING, RUNNING, RUNing Running, running, ដំណើរការរត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់ដំណើរការរត់រត់,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, Запустить, запустить, запускать, запускать, запустить, запускать, запускать, запускать, запускать, запускать, запускать, запускать, запускать, запускать, запускать, запускать, запустить, запускать, запускать, запускать, запустить, запускать, запустить, запускать, запустить, запустить, запускать, запускать, запустить, запустить, запустить, запустить, запустить, запустить, запустить, запустить, запустить, запустить, រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់, រត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់, រត់រត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់និងរត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់។, រត់រត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់និងរត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់។ រត់រត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់និងរត់រត់រត់កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់។, កំពុងរត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់រត់និងរត់រត់រត់និងរត់រត់រត់និងរត់រត់និងរត់រត់។
[SPEAKER_05]: Спасибо Я думаю, что следующая работа - это волна.
[Clayton]: Но я думаю, что это просто занятие, которое вы можете сделать.
[SPEAKER_05]: Когда ты любишь, ты не можешь быть счастливым в одиночестве.
[Clayton]: Я не могу использовать это, потому что не знаю, что сказать. Это маленькие вещи, которые приходят. В медитации не может быть счастлива в одиночку. Это город. Это город. Это город. Это город. Вы не видите, что вы можете увидеть. Я возвращаюсь на пляж. Не может быть здесь один. Я не знаю, как использовать какой мир, который мне не нужен. Зеленый и зеленый и синий. Не может быть здесь один.
[Unidentified]: Я не знаю текст. Музыка.
[SPEAKER_05]: И Спасибо
[SPEAKER_02]: Я хочу перейти к следующему.
[SPEAKER_05]: Иногда мы утверждаем, что хотим петь эту песню. Думаю, я не хочу играть эту песню. Я думал что? Но это не имеет значения. Все еще там. Я пошел на гору Замбы на земле Иисуса, выпивая все, и я увидел собственность. Магия привлекает меня. Мое сердце появляется. Я в Баии, на дорожной вечеринке. Столовая луны - это Самба. Выпивая свет, проверьте Bamsas, полоса списков, которая меня привлекает. Мое сердце переполняется. Я в своем заливе. Моя лунная вечеринка, я буду. В кафе Луны вы должны спуститься. Стол белый и может успокоиться. Я буду приглашать доверие. Я здоров, я там. О, ооо! И Убийца Я приехал из Slippery, я приехал из Эзулера Ноа, у меня были какие -то каких -то гуавы и банановых снарядов. Я здоров, я там. Я приехал из Гамбуоа на площади Маува, и я была Маунт -Самба. Я здоров, я там. Начните с ее невежества и Мамбы Бамба. ЕС, ЕС, ЕС, ЕС на Дали ♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪ Спасибо Песня песни Джо Джо Лоя Боско все еще безумна. Так что это мир Иисуса, найденный в Иисусе.
[SPEAKER_02]: Именно здесь у Baya есть много вкладов из Африки. Вот как это описывает это, и это мощная и очень красивая песня. Трудно петь в это субботу утром. Песни любят петь ночью. О, я устал. Итак, давайте вернемся, это Сэм. Самра похожа на аббревиатуру на улице Павла. Итак, это слово Caetano Veloso, которое впервые описало как самака. Потому что это так, как Пол похож на Нью -Йорк. Поэтому он сказал о красоте и стихах Павла. Это плата.
[SPEAKER_05]: Что случилось со мной, но когда я приехал сюда, когда я проходил на Эфах, я ничего не настаивал. Натара, особенно осторожное желание обеих девушек. Вам не нужно отомстить более полный перевод. Что случилось с моими мыслями. Только когда я пересекаю iPada и Street John, ♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪ ������ Это не старше, когда у нас раньше не было никакой инфекции, и трудно начать то, чего я не знаю об этом, это из другой мечты, потому что вы в правде. На этой линии все плохо обращались. Соберите и разрушите денежную силу величия. Звучит не красиво. Я вижу твою замороженную с поля и проделывает семинар по тропическому лесу. Pan American, Africa, неожиданная раса, опухоли Samba, банка Бойар может быть счастлив. Я вижу, как рисовые поля и пространство появляются ♪ Лесные фабрики дождевой воды Невероятная панамека, могила Samba увеличивается, более сильный, зомби Quilombo Спасибо Я думаю, что вы можете знать это, если хотите танцевать.
[SPEAKER_02]: Я ничего не могу сказать.
[SPEAKER_05]: Самба И Но остров Самба был смешан с фруктами И Самое главное, что я оставляю свой лоб, что я хочу случиться, потому что Самба взволнована тем, что я хочу быть Самбой Большое спасибо.
[SPEAKER_02]: Всё хорошо. Много танцевальных песен. Это мой любимый мальчик - Auarque. Это здорово. Так как же толстый перевод. Не останавливайся в любое время. Она не хороший муж. Так позволь мне танцевать.
[SPEAKER_05]: Мой сын, деньги, страховка перед вами, но вы это сделаете, но это будет много. Прошло 10 часов с тех пор, как горячая самба встретила волосы и позволила девочкам потанцевать в мире. Я не хочу начинать конфетти, но я так сказал. Вы атакуете. Это больно. И если вы продолжите бежать на лице своего мужа, эта девушка может чувствовать себя усталой. Обратно к грустному мужчине, будет счастливая женщина ♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪ ♪ Более смешной, чем я десять часов, а пар горячий. Виноват мужчину, который бездомный от счастливой женщины, счастливой женщины и тысяч женщин, у которых их нет. ♪, который является ценным мальчиком, но у вас хуже. Но это очень плохое состояние, прошло 10 часов, а Самба очень горячая. ♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪ Сейчас 3 часа, и Samba Hot делает ее черные волосы счастливыми, оставляет девушку самбу в покое. За грустным мужчиной он все еще счастливая женщина. За этой женщиной всегда приходит мужчина. Так что для ваших хороших вещей, Ох! Убери это из головы, о, это достоин, чтобы привести тебя к твоей девушке. ហើយអ្នកមិនមែនជាមនុស្សទេ :: ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: Спасибо Я просто хочу поблагодарить вас за приглашение быть с Греги здесь, и есть смерть.
[SPEAKER_02]: Это наш первый раз. Рад быть здесь. Рексато Малавати. Меня зовут Ана. Если вы хотите присоединиться к нам, зарегистрировав электронное письмо, зарегистрирующее электронное письмо Media Medford на острове Самба, сделайте это. Я поощряю действие. Я также разработчик на концерте. Также из Медфорда. Здорово играть дома. Очень хорошо очень хорошо. Это хорошо, так что ... Вы можете знать это.
[SPEAKER_05]: Ваша продолжительность жизни будет, а затем ♪ Летать немедленно, и девушка, которая видит ее, все еще выглядит красиво, вы должны видеть, что вы должны любить сегодня без любви � � [Cantando Asportuguuugure ЕС Pergunto, Masov Dao Вы увидите любовь, и я не видел ничего подобного ♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪ Внезапно вскочил и увидел, как пришли девушки. Он пришел. Всегда этот брат ОБРГАДО.
[SPEAKER_02]: Стать Болеро. Да, он любит Болеро. Сделай это. Это из Caymmi Dorgal. Это еще одна песня о любви. Стать Болеро.
[SPEAKER_05]: ♪ Нет, как кто -то Любовь происходит в жизни. Ты не легкий. И я тоже пришел. И, как основные дома в нашей жизни, жизнь делает вашу игру для вас. Вы не приглашаете других. Я не я или кто -либо. Любовь происходит в жизни. Вы не подходят. Дорогой, как это важно о нашей жизни в нашей жизни. И вы не позволяете человеку любить на том, что он налетает и роль интересов S & ::: ♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪: Когда любовь происходит в жизни, вы не готовы. Моя дорогая, насколько важна наша жизнь Никто не любит кого -то, я, и я занимался любовью, не я не я Спасибо Эта музыка, которую мы можем петь в течение дня, как та же песня? Это хорошо. Я люблю это. Снова? Всё хорошо.
[SPEAKER_02]: Опять же, это здорово быть в Медфорде. Для вас, специальная аудитория, особенная. Большое спасибо за приглашение каждого из нас. Извините, я не помню твое имя.
[SPEAKER_05]: Слишком рано. Но еще раз спасибо за наших гостей. Сделайте последнюю песню. Последняя песня самая лучшая?
[SPEAKER_02]: Напиток? Да, сделай это. Вы знаете? Выпить баланс? Всё хорошо. Так что это другая песня Джо Модоксо. Итак, мы должны идти. Много энергии, большой двор.
[SPEAKER_05]: Лицо Каждый кулер имеет аренду. Облака в небе уведомили черепахи. я Внешний На каждом из этапов этой строки вы можете разрушить баланс достижений, которые знают надежду на надежду каждого художника Спасибо Большое спасибо. Билл Вонг, Грегутуро и Рина Мама Маза Пага. Меня зовут Анна Анна. Мы будем играть в Haward Plaza на следующей неделе. Если вы спросите, я могу рассказать вам больше. Спасибо Всё хорошо.
[Terry Carter]: Да, это SIMFD. Такканхо. Самба завербована, фортепианные подопечные. Анна Бор в своем голосе. Грег Торо на басу. Скажи мне снова. И Ренато на барабанах. Всё хорошо. Очень хороший. Ну, отдыхайте для вашей карьеры, когда мы готовимся ко второму действию. Мой напряженный совет - присоединиться и спонсировать датский кондитерский магазин, потому что у них все хорошо. В нем много счастья. Весь сахар, все масло на стороне пасты и очень хороший вкус на соленой стороне. Итак, вы знаете, продолжайте и получайте. У них есть лимонный сок и холодная вода. Так хорошо. Всё хорошо. Увидимся через несколько минут.
[SPEAKER_03]: Я никогда не знал, что они могут что -то сделать. Я не верю, что ты меня любишь. Вы говорите всем, что я знаю, что я в вашем уме, куда бы вы ни пошли. Я не верю тебе В конце концов, он сказал и очень повезло. Я не верю, что они могут сделать. Я не верю, что ты меня любишь. Вы говорите всем, что я знаю, что я в вашем уме, куда бы вы ни пошли. Он сказал и думал, что мне очень повезло
[Terry Carter]: All right. All right. Hello everybody. All right. So we had a beautiful first set. They said that they samba was marvelous. Really really good. And hopefully we will at least meet if not exceed your expectations for the second part of our program today. For those of you who don't know me or who I haven't had a chance to meet yet, my name is Terry Carter, Terry E. My mother says use the initial, that's why I gave it to you. So it's Terry E. Carter, E stands for Eugene. And I direct elder services here at the community center. I'm not going to talk a lot, but I do want you to know just a little bit about We've been in business for 90 years representing the historic African American community of West Medford and this is the second building on the site. The first building was little more than an old army Quonset hut that was brought here from the defunct army base in East Boston going way back, World War II. And it was set on the site and it remained our home from like 1945 to the early 2000s. And then it basically collapsed under its own weight. And we were fortunate enough over the next several years thereafter to build this building. And this is the current home of an organization that really, really is very near and dear to my heart. I grew up in West Medford. I'm born and raised on Jerome and Monument Streets, not too far from here. And so the community center, Duggar Park, where all the basketball players are, well, you know, another story for another day. And, let's see, Duggar Park. the Hervey School, Shiloh Baptist Church, a couple other places. If our parents didn't know where we were, they knew where to find us, okay? Because we were at one of those three or four places. But in any case, Jonathan and I, Jonathan Fagan here, who convened and founded the Jazz Fest, yeah, absolutely. We got together, it's going on six years ago, we decided that we wanted to do something project-wise, him as a musician, me as a poet, that would bring those two worlds together under the banner of jazz, because he's a splendid jazz composer, arranger, and poetry, and I'm turning into more of a lyricist as time goes by. I just started out as a garden variety poet, but now I can add lyricist and poet laureate to my name. Okay, so we're gonna start off with where we think, as a community, we start off. So we're gonna do a tune called Hired by the Mystic, okay? All right, now, everything that we do is this intersection of jazz and social justice, okay? Some of it might not fit your ears real easily, but I ask you to open your hearts because I speak the truth in love. Is that cool? All right, all right, very good. All right, let's do this. They gave my people the lowlands, and not much of it. Just a few streets high by the river. Banks turned to fly and die behind the red lines, and it wasn't about the money. Class was an irresistible force. Race was an immovable object. Perhaps it wasn't the written rule, but white folks knew the legal tool to keep us in our place in this mystic valley space, where slaves and rum and chips had built some mansions, made some millionaires, and hid some old money. So it was hard by the mystic we went, muddy and a bit turned down, the only place where one could be brown in this ancient Middlesex County town. But we named it and claimed it and made it our own. Even in the heat of summer, when the shores were parched and the soil was rank, with the decay of aquatic alchemy, we were one with the river. We followed its flow to the lakes and the sandy beachfront. Like our own Jordan Shore, we baptized and blessed our brothers and sisters in Christ. We caught the little fishes to and became the TV multitude who our Lord Jesus fed, hired by the mystic. We became community. We commanded unity. We embraced the village and raised up our children in the way they should go. As the river ebbs and flows, the tides would turn and our fortune grows. A few more streets become our home. Houses on Sharon join Kin on Jerome. From Duggar Park to the railroad tracks, the landed folk make more room for blacks. The color line recedes a bit. Church and school and center sit. The ville becomes the heart of it, hired by the mystic shore. Now the worm has surely turned, and folks who left have surely learned things couldn't stay the same. That muddy mystic most days is clean. The banks are freshly cut and green. Faces once distinctly brown are not the only ones in town. These streets that once were our confines must now embrace what gentry defines, condominium culture, bedroom convenience, university sprawl, access, egress, excess, and largesse. Now those lowlands have become the highlights of a trending city. And sometimes that success isn't pretty when it's at the expense of your black and brown and tan family. And yet the river still turns and bends. from where it begins to where it ends. The only place where one could be ground in this ancient Middlesex County town where we named it and claimed it and made it our own. All right. All right, okay, now, okay, we're into it now, okay? We're into it. So this is a cool segue because... There were, in that ancient Middlesex County town where we named it and claimed it and made it our own, there were a few institutions, especially for us kids. There was, of course, Duggar Park. There was the Hervey Schoolyard where we grew up and played on that side of town. There was the West Medford Community Center where all of us kids came for Cub Scouts and Girl Scouts. playing pool and bumper pool and ping pong and so on and so forth. And one of the other institutions that was particularly near and dear to our heart was right around the corner, a few streets down on Jerome Street, and it was called The Little Store. It was a tiny red hovel on Upper Jerome. a bit run down and rough around the edges. And Mr. Henry seemed so old to us even then, with a lot of whiskers, impatient, and a little scary. One would suspect that he didn't even like kids, but he really must have loved us. Or else, where did all that penny candy come from? He had all of it, no, seriously. We'd bust in there with a few nickels or a handful of pennies, all loud and unruly. He'd hush us up while he finished with grown folks' business. Then he'd be back, like a black Willy Wonka up in that old shack. He'd peer over those old horn-rimmed glasses and tell us he didn't have all day. Then he'd blow open one of those small brown craft paper bags. and get to stuffin' while we were oohin' and ahin' and huffin' and puffin'. See, Mr. Henry had all the treats, all of our favorites, a hundred great sweets. Root beer barrels and pixie sticks, squirrel nut zippers and banana splits, green mint juleps and button strips, red licorice ropes and bottle nips, He had bazooka Joe bubblegum and a tiny sucker called a dum-dum. Jawbreakers and Tootsie Rolls, sugary love for little kids souls. Candy necklaces to wear and bite, and waxy red lips was such a sight. Fat gum cigars and kid cigarettes, right beside the crunchy six legs. Mary Jane chewies and BB bats, hot fireballs and Mexican hats. Just the genuine Hershey's Kisses, all of the hits and none of the misses. Like kid taffy squares and Necco wafers, liquor made in Boston baked beans. Gold rocks, nuggets of gum in a bag, a kid's idea, sweet tooth swag. Before the days of Laffy Taffys, we would gobble up peppermint patties. Before we knew about gummy bears, Twizzlers always came in pairs. Chewy cow tails with creamy filling, but sugar babies had top filling. Reese's peanut butter cups had us squealing like newborn pups. mica nights and orange slices, salt water taffy and tiny prices. Lifesavers and charms and fruity flavors. We grab those bags like potty favors. Uncles were a favorite choice, and milk duds made us all rejoice. Jolly ranchers and bitter honey, we always got a lot for our money. Talk about kids getting excited. Our greedy fingers could barely wait. You can't imagine the flame he ignited to take that candy like fish take bait. from cold January to chilly December. More kinds of candy than I can remember at the Phil storefront on Upper Jerome. I knew I had to write this poem. See, Mr. Henry had all the treats, all of our favorites, a hundred great sweets. All right. All right, all right. Yeah, yeah. We love it. Okay, so here's the band. Jonathan Fagan on the keys. All right. Greg Toro on the little sexy. This is not the big sexy. The big sexy is the really big bass. This is the little sexy. It's still very sexy, but it's a smaller bass. And my man, Gordon Engelgau on the traps here. Okay, we are the Ally Project. We're going to move this thing along. Boy, where am I? Yeah. OK, here we go. So I'm not going to lie or front as we say in the hood. The neighborhood has changed pretty dramatically, all right? So I'm gonna talk a little bit about how I remember it and what it's become, okay? So this piece is called Corner Lot. All right. standing at the apex of Arlington and Jerome, trying to remember the black and the brown and the tan. Ronnie and Otis used to live in the big house on the corner lot. It's probably changed a half a dozen times since then. Current owner's been there for a minute. He's good with his hands and he knows his way around wood and tools. Place has been gussied up quite a bit. Picket fence is not quite white, but if you know, you know. Asian kid in a Tufts hoodie just whipped by in a helmet and roller blades. Didn't see much of that back in the day. The university sort of hit on the hell side, trying its best to be a baby Ivy. But the co-eds come here all the time now. Basketball, tennis rackets, pickleball paddles in tow, on bikes, in Benzos and roller blades. We used to bust ourselves up pretty good on those rickety metal skates with clunky keys and leather straps. Nothing a little Vaseline and Mercurochrome couldn't handle. How did Henley put it in Invictus? Oh yeah, bloody but unbowed. Not too many white and off-white kids hanging out here back there then. It was as if the invisible lines once drawn to keep us in sometimes kept other folks out too. Now they've pretty much taken over. Dug a park, the Rhone tennis courts, the Hervey schoolyard, and a hundred addresses on Arlington, Lincoln, and Jerome. A host of our remembered places, so few of our original faces. Meanwhile, back in Ronnie and Otis' old place, I'm still standing like that centurion, knowing that Jesus doesn't have to go in to heal his servant. He just has to speak a word. I guess I keep hoping that he'll speak a word to the corner lot, too, and bring back the black and the brown and the tan. Across the river, it's low tide. The smell is gone and the grass is greener than I recall. That was our little park, away from dugger and a lot less hectic. We had makeshift bases or discarded cones for football and softball. We lost a few in the river, but nobody was going in that muck to retrieve anything. We'd probably wait in that water today. They planted some trees there many years ago. They're all pretty big now. Maple and ash, I think. Nobody plays baseball or football there anymore. But there are lots of dogs frolicking off leash and gaggles of fat Canadian geese daring pitties, pugs, and poodles to chase them all. I can't imagine my childhood without losing a few softballs there. I can't imagine not hearing Mrs. Allen call little James Michael to come and eat, or little Charlie to watch us play from his folding chair, because his spindly legs were too weak to let him run. I can't imagine that I'm still here. But Ronnie and Otis, Darryl King and Frankie French, Aaron McDaniel and Marky Davis are all gone. Mark was as thick as a big tree trunk, so we came up with Oak for him. Aaron was Spud, Frankie was Fruit Man, and I was Top Cat. Too cool, ran to school. Everyone wants the corner lot now. A little more land and perhaps the new perspectives that angles create. I wonder if that meant anything to Ronnie and Otis, or Jed and Miles and Gib, Barry, Coco, Keith Wing, and Kenny Byfield. Certainly meant something to the white folks looking to displace, transplant, and uproot the local color. Black folks built homes here, only place where they were allowed to be, where they could color inside the lines Medford once drew against the perceived discomforts of darker skin. We were here first. First firefighters, police officers, war heroes, shop owners, tradesmen, postal chiefs, teachers, artists, and preachers. We were the human bedrock of the only neighborhood they'd let us build. The old church is gone now. Nelson even changed the street number as if to erase the fact that the original Shiloh Baptist ever existed. But if you know, you know. That corner still has a cornerstone. 1900, and Nelson couldn't do nothing about it without a more draconian demolition. Two more condos in the house of the Lord. Two more houses that us first folk can't afford. Two more dismissals of the blessings of his word. One more holy stone rejected and ignored. Thank you. Thank you. All right, we're going to switch it up a little bit. You're familiar with the jazz canon. You know a couple of the players. You know Duke Ellington and Miles Davis and maybe Herbie Hancock and a few others. And then maybe you know John Coltrane. All right, so Coltrane, some of the best of the jazz standards were his compositions with that beautiful horn of his. And one of them was about one of his loves. Her name was Naima. And so if you know Coltrane and you know jazz a little bit, you probably have heard Naima before. So this is a riff, a take on Naima. It's called Reprise for Naima. He would blow this note in the midnight air, aloft in the ether it floats out there. Staccato cadence sets a mood of bluesy lyrical attitude. Improvisational mystery like Monk's piano epistrophe or Miles' tone poem in a silent way or Flanagan's peace at the end of the day. Syncopated in sharp, bright tone, a countdown to stardust, a twilight zone, like a blue train running against the night, setting the pace, then out of sight. With heartmen crooning or bags-on vibes, trios, duets, quartets, and tribes, the blues, the ballads, the avant-garde, incredibly gorgeous, impossibly hard. Giant steps move us miles ahead. Cooking up bop for Harlem street cred. Melody's hand to the harmony wed. Piano's lullaby fresh in the bed. Rhythm rocks where the drummer led. Rhythm rolls where the bass man sped. Rhythm birthed what the saxophone bred. Rhythm heard what the master said. How could he make the bitter taste sweeter? How could a tortured mind deleter? How could the mellowed scotch be neater? How could the smoke from each cigarette create blue beads that cast a net, create blue beads of cascading sweat, create blue haze that confounds regret, create blue nights that we can't Coltrane's notes are a crystal scale, a velvet scream in the urban travail, the heavenly riff of a love supreme, the pungent riff of a lover's dream. Coltrane's notes are a cozy romance, the breezy bounce of a bop and a dance, the languid lilt of stray's lush life, the cakes cut by the artist's knife. Coltrane's notes are a standard refined, like gold in a pan or gemstones mined, the sparkling glow of a hopeful dream, hot black coffee with a hint of cream. Coltrane's notes are Naima's reprise, like madness that brings a man to his knees, or sadness that comes when lovers part, the gladness removed from the balladeer's heart. A tight arrangement cuts the gloom. The melody says that love's in bloom. The harmony spirit engulfs the room. The bride says yes to her lyrical groom. The groove and the beat then jump the broom. The kip drum resounds with a sonic boom. As genius is birthed in a soul filled room. Musical mythology mocks, a twisted path the hero walks. With shield and sword the hero stalks. The temperance shakes her twisted locks. Medusa's snakes, his vision shocks. Holds up the mirror to stony blocks. The harp and the horn melt icy rocks. Serpents retreat and symphony talks. Coltrane's notes are a roller coaster, a hallelujah and a paternoster, the glorious jolt of the maestro's hand, the saxophone titan is in command. Coltrane's notes are a crazy rhythm, the squawk of chords and playful schism, the frenetic pace of Mr. P.C., the coolest round midnight will ever be. Coltrane's notes are genius refined, like gold in a pan or a gemstone's mine. The sparkling glow of a lover's dream, hot black coffee with a hint of cream. Coltrane's notes are Naima's reprise. Like madness that brings a man to his knees, or sadness that comes when lovers part, then gladness revived in the balladeer's heart. Thank you. Thank you very much. All right, all right. So we're going to stay on the jazz frontier for a minute. Herbie Hancock, and later Quincy Jones, they did a tune, Quincy covered it, Herbie Hancock did it for us, and it's called Tell Me a Bedtime Story. So we do a little riff on Tell Me a Bedtime Story, it's called Tell Me Another Bedtime Story, all right? It's just a sweet little jazz ditty, okay? Cool. Is this where the sandman picks up each grain, restoring the beauty and reducing the pain? Is this where we fly to never never land, like the troop of lost boys with Peter Pan? All of the mystery of hidden dreams. Nothing now is as it seems. Tell a sweet tale that sugars and creams with flashes of sardines and shining moonbeams. As I lay down to my slumber, paint a landscape of ochre and umber. Let there be a hint of romance. Turn up the quiet. Love wants to dance. Tell me a bedtime story, please, of secret gardens and pecan trees, of babbling brooks and waterfalls, of gentle breezes that summer calls, of hidden havens and wondrous spaces, of astral planes and mystical places. Let it be a melody that sings in four-part harmony. Let it resound in symphony that folds into dreamland's reverie. Tell me a fable of Arabian nights spread on a table of earthly delights, free from the label of anger and fights, willing and able to scale higher heights. Tell me a bedtime story now, as the baby rocks in the maple bough, as the blue ox puts his nose to the plow, and the sweaty farmer wipes his brow, as each green seedling happily vows to yield each fruit the ground allows, and seven dwarfs whistle a happy tune, and sleeping beauty awakens soon. Let there be a melody that sings in four-part harmony. Let it resound in symphony, then fold into dreamland's reverie. This is the time when the sandman whispers and seven grooms meet seven sisters. And the prairie sings an ode to love as the angels release the turtle dove. For now, I lay me down to sleep and pray to God, my soul to keep. All right. Jonathan Fagan on the keys. Greg Toro on the bass. Did you hear that? You heard that, right? All right, that's Gordon Yango, guy on the drums. All right. All right, so listen, we're going to the intersection of jazz and social justice, all right? All right, and when I say we ain't playing, we ain't playing, but we're playing. Is that okay? All right, all right. So we ain't playing, but we're playing. Okay, this is called alienation. Good? Okay. All right. Here is a fence without a gate. You can't get in, you have to wait. You can't be foreign or somehow strange. This isn't your home, home on the range. You can't arrive in a rickety boat. Our castle has a treacherous moat. We won't host refugees at our door. You're not the sort we're looking for. Take good note, we stay on guard. We don't want you in our backyard. Despite the danger you seek to avoid, our best deterrents have been deployed. You say our country's full of peril. But like stray cats, we think you're feral. We think you're prone to filth and crime. We don't want either at this time. We don't care what the nations say. They won't do more than hope and pray. Our stance is clear on human rights. Lock the door. Turn off the lights. You saw that statue in the bay. It stood for liberty until today. It welcomed tired and huddled masses, not criminals from your underclasses. We've got militias on the border. They own big guns to keep the order. Law enforcement lets them stay to help them keep your kind at bay. Why do we feel that this is good? Why can't we share the neighborhood? Is it because you're black and brown? No, we just choose to stand our ground. Stay in your place. Deal with your issues. We'll send lots of coal and tissues. Don't form caravans and run. You'll find yourselves in the sight of a gun. There are no streets here lined with gold. Our eyes are closed, our hearts are cold. There is no flowing milk and honey. American skies are not that sunny. The fences we build keep aliens out. They serve to keep our faith devout. This land we scheme to make our own is ours, you see, and ours alone. As long as you stay on the other side, we can maintain our national pride. Please don't show us your anguished faces. We're cutting back on other races. We've had enough of global inclusion. We're ridding this country of race confusion. We know how to win these fights and limit all these civil rights. safety nets and the welfare state will have to stop for the lost and late a rising tide that favors the rich that's our famous favorite campaign pitch me too movements and black lives matter in all due time your ranks will scatter you think that you shall overcome just cross this line we'll give you some We'll give you a taste of burning churches and black boys hung from oaks and birches. We'll give you a taste of incarceration in prisons.com, the corporate plantation. We're taking this country back to the time when a brown life wasn't worth a dime, except for the way it worked in the field, except for a bushel of crops to yield. We're taking this country back to the day when white meant right in every way, when men of privilege could rape and beat and kill for spite, then lie and cheat. We're taking this homeland back to the season when hooded marauders needed no reason to hunt folks down with rifles and dogs through the lonely woods, the swamps, and bogs. When confederate flags were boldly raised, and crosses in the darkness blazed, and the land was full of racial hate, served with grits on a breakfast plate. You thought this worm had surely turned, and young black bodies no longer burned. Yet here you are again today, with the specter of prejudice winning the day. The MAGA caps you wear with pride, they let us know who's on your side. The pointed hood and long white robe, fine clothes for the xenophobe. Perhaps this place that immigrants covet can somehow heal and rise above it. Until that day, our best advice to call this home, you'll pay a price. You'll pay a price as many misguided embrace the hate their voice provided. His Twitter rants and sound bites full of ethnocentric cock and bull. You'll pay a price as higher walls lead great climbers to greater falls, where fences are the new condition announcing the refugees' abolition. This isn't our nation's greatest hour, this flexing of white supremacist power. And yet the season is fully revealing the stain of hatred we've been concealing. So take good note and be on guard of deadly traps around the yard. Our agents are on high alert to keep you foreigners off this dirt. Tolerance is in short supply. We won't let your kind occupy this sacred land our forebears built. We don't subscribe to Anglo guilt. This fence was built without a gate to keep out all who come here late. To all you aliens, we don't like strange. No room at the inn in our home on the range. All right. Hard troops, admittedly, but troops nonetheless. All right, so we're gonna stay there for a minute, and then we'll try and ease up off of your feelings. This piece is called The Ally, and it's actually kind of the eponym for our project. So we're gonna do Ally for you. Friends become distant and strange as if you have some creeping mange. Family wonders why and rings their hands. How could you choose them over us? We're your blood, bone of your bone, and flesh of your flesh. They're not like us. They're so different, less than, not equal to, beneath. Declarations have been made. Arrangements are in place. These are matters of our kin. Signs have been painted. You're going to be cast out. You're going to be shunned. You need to stick with your own kind. An ally? Is that what they're calling you? Well, it's a hard road to hoe. You're making strange bedfellows. You're casting your white pearls before swine. You weren't raised to behave like this. Our family is a proud and honored clan. We'll never be lower than any black man. There's no room for them at this table. There's always been two sides of the track, a right and wrong side of town, our kind and their kind, your people and those folks. It's going to kill your mother and your daddy's turning over in his grave. You want to shout out, Black Lives Matter. But the master plan is to make them scatter, to serve them pain on a silver platter. Our people own them. They worked this land for 200 years. They were our property, our Negroes. Hell, our Negroes to make it plain. You can't be out there with them. You can't be shoulder to shoulder with the ones we need to dominate, relegate, subjugate, eliminate. They want reparations. Well, we're making preparations to give them 40 acres of hell and a mule kit to the gut. You don't seem to get it, son. This is the way the races run. There's not enough room for everyone. The time for black and brown is done. Show your pride and pick up your gun. Pick the side that has always won. You can't be out there with them. You can't be shoulder to shoulder with the ones we need to dominate, relegate, subjugate, eliminate. All right. All right, all right. Yeah, yeah. All right, all right. Once again, the Allied Project. Jonathan Fagan, Greg Toro, Gordon Angle Guywin, I'm Terry Carter. Too cool, these bros got me sweating out here. Got me sweating. All right, okay, so we're at a couple of different spots and then we're gonna finish up. But let's do something nice and mellow. This is called Legacy, okay? Everybody enjoying themselves? All right. I know it's warm out there. I know. But you're braving the elements and enjoying the day, hopefully. Very, very good. It's not for you to tell your own story. That is the burden of your children. They must shoulder this yoke with love and loyalty. And yet, you have not gathered them up and bid them sit before the campfires of their elders. You have not seasoned their meals with the spice of their identity and the savor of their names. How will they learn to walk the walk and talk the talk? How will they learn to tell your stories even as they live out their own? Sons and daughters and heirs, if you didn't smell the burning ash or feel the warmth of the flame on your neck, you don't know. If you didn't revel in the growl of the griot's earthy reply or the trill of the mockingbird's cry, you don't know. If mama was too tired and daddy too long gone to carry the wood, light the spark and stoke the flames, you don't know. And until the lion cub knows how to tell the pride stories, the hunters will always tell them first. The good book says train up the child in the way they should go. Will we let them depart from the community of faith and the city on the hill without the master's touch, without the oil of his anointing and his full measure of grace? Will we not show them Anansi's clever ways, Popo and Fafina's journey, Mufaro's beautiful daughters, the people who could fly the wonders of Wakanda, and Songololo's new tacky. The prophet says he will encourage fathers and their children to return. But how will they know the way home if no map charts the seas, measures the roads, cites the peaks and valleys, and names each forest despite the thickening trees? Will the burden of the elder stories be too heavy for the children? Will they care to carry? Will they dare to tarry? Will they linger at the foot of the griot? Will they hunger for the wisdom of the sage? We must put them on this page, where hard work earns a man his wage, where power is measured by God's own gauge, where miracles scarf at the wand of a maid. We must share with them the truth that is loyal and fierce like Naomi and Ruth, that doesn't wait for the confessional booth, that has the bite of the panther's tooth. This is the gift of legacy, where a glorious past sets the captives free, and a candle's light beckons liberty. Sons and daughters and heirs, I bid you sit before the campfires of your elders, hear their stories, gather up their stones, and build up your strength. They will show you Anansi's clever ways, Popo and Fafina's journey, Mufaro's beautiful daughters, the people who could fly the wonders of Wakanda, and Sanga Lolo's new tackies. Soon you will be the herald. Write these things down on the tablets of your spirit. Let them put a running in your feet. With each quickening step, you repel the arrows of the hunter. With the shield of abiding faith, you capture the flags of your enemies and gather up their spoils. You remain the lions of the pride and your tails will always be your children's bread. You will never abandon the community of faith. Though you build a thousand cities on a hill, drawing wondrous strength from the master's touch as the oil of his anointing fills your clay jars with his grace. Thank you. All right. Quite a while ago, it was either my first or my second book. Speaking of first and second books, I've got books up there. There's actually a Ally Project CD, for those of you who still have a CD player. And it's got a lot of our music on it. So if you're interested, it's up there. We also have a book. Jazz Festival t-shirts, which are lovely, and our food venue, the Danish Pastry House, will still be here after we leave. So if you didn't get a snack and you wanna get one, come back and sit out under the tent and talk, or however the move hits you, it's all there, still there for you. All right, okay, so I think we're gonna do two more, and then we're gonna be done. All right, so. I love that, I love that, I love that, I love that. If it's not fake, if you're faking it, don't do it. But if it's, oh, okay, I love it, okay. What are we doing? Oh, we're doing Bobby, okay. All right, so a while back, on one of my early books, I think it was the second one, I have a painting in my house. It's called, what's it called, T? Oh, it's called Bobby Doesn't Live Here. And basically what it is is my attempt, my humble painting attempt, to kind of depict black women in all shapes and sizes, because they come in all shapes and sizes. And there may be one or two of them who are very, very narrow and somewhat Barbie-like, somewhat Angel Reese-like. But for the most part, it runs the gamut. So I wrote this poem called Barbie Doesn't Live Here to go with that. piece of artwork. And every once in a while, you revisit a piece of poetry and you say, well, what could I have done differently? Or what could I have said differently? So I had this notion, and it came out like this. And it's called, If Barbie Had a Choice.
[Unidentified]: Хаха.
[Terry Carter]: Если у ребенка есть выбор, я думаю, что однажды он сделает что -то черное. Это отдаст крем кожи с яркостью Абни. Его полковник и его полковник, полковник. Розовая коробка пасты в розовой коробке с большим количеством белого молока и пальм и пляжей позади. Я так не думаю. Вы не можете быть очень темными, а бедра в этих бедрах сброшены на маленьком острове Холди. Мне нужно что -то более важное. Мне нужно много ярдов в Сенегале и яркий тотем Батик и жертва моей страны. Мне пришлось хорошо соединить все и показать всему миру то, что я делал прямо в The Valaka Tailor в The Tailor. Мне это нужно в Дамми, а не в Мэттеле и Диснее. Серьезно, если у Бобби есть вариант, Кент выглядит как Али, Дензел или Идрис Эльба, его черные шоколадные кошки. Прежде всего, это меланано, а не мой, и это на самом деле не более 150 бумаги рождественской одежды. Он упадет, как Malm Green, пробуждая Tupac и сделает такую компанию, как Malcolm. Он будет целовать человека с черным ртом, не оставляя пышного синего и полного тропических лесов. Он будет держать своего человека дрожать в последнем черном стихотворении. Если вы не знаете YouTube. Ему не нужны ягодицы Бразилии, холмы Беверли -Хиллз или встречи Adobe Photoshop. Африканская мать заботится обо всем этом в доброй генетике, как вы так думаете?
[SPEAKER_07]: Если у куклов Барби есть выбор, вы не можете купить эту игру R.
[Terry Carter]: Шварц или Мэри Ренольд. Она не должна быть фальшивой подругой девушки или бонини. Она не должна быть американской девушкой, Адди, телефоном для злонамеренных или материнских инцидентов. Она не будет девушкой, Марго Робби, она не Барби или П. Дидди Харви из Cherry Pie. Я закончил бегать с большим количеством ритмов, только несколько стержней латуни могут закончиться вовремя. Новые люди в Бобби не представляют разумных. Ваши упреки не могут сидеть на заборе. Его женщина потрясающая. Один игрок находит свои игры очень сильно и никогда не заинтересовался в получении результатов любви. Хотя он может быть упакован в Bentley, Bentley или Bentley, он будет потерян в земле из -за реального дождя. Новый Барби Нубиан нуждается в безумном уважении. Это не блог или небрежный объект. Он будет бороться за нее за высокий класс. Это не будет смиренным или маленьким. Бьюсь об заклад, это было бы иначе. Призрак или лжец не будут угрозой. В дополнение к процентам долга, красота и мудрость не будут потеть. Красивая белая Барби могла бы иметь спички самолетов, но самолет души не приземлился. Моя африканская королева была действительно забыта, хотя я мог бы захотеть сохранить этот полет. Вы можете сохранить это. Да, вам может понадобиться его сохранить. Всё хорошо. Хорошо, давайте в конечном итоге, где мы начали, были для семьи, потому что все были здесь, и мы любим вас соревноваться в калориях, потому что мы знаем это здесь. Итак, посмотрите, надеюсь ли я его найти.
[SPEAKER_07]: Вы хотите поэзию на детской кухне? Убийца Убийца Убийца Убийца
[Terry Carter]: អ្វីគ្រប់យ៉ាងគឺល្អ។ ខ្ញុំដឹងថាអ្វីដែលខ្ញុំនិយាយនៅថ្ងៃនេះហើយអ្វីដែលយើងលេងនៅថ្ងៃនេះគឺយើងដឹង, ទាក់ទាញលេខកូដផ្សេងគ្នានិងអនុភាពជាមួយមនុស្ស។ ប៉ុន្តែកំណាព្យពិសេសនេះប្រហែលជាហាងតូចមួយដែលនាំយករូបភាពពីរបៀបដែលផ្ទះរបស់អ្នកមើលចំណុចមួយចំនួន។ ខ្ញុំស្ទើរតែធានាថាមិនថាអ្នកមកពីណាដែលអ្នកមកពីណាក៏ដោយការអធិស្ឋានខ្លះក្តីសង្ឃឹមរបស់ខ្ញុំក្តីសង្ឃឹមរបស់ខ្ញុំថាផ្ទះរបស់អ្នកនឹងមើលទៅដូចជាពេលវេលាហើយសង្ឃឹមថានឹងធ្វើវាជានិច្ច។ ការងារនេះត្រូវបានគេហៅថាកំណាព្យនៅលើតុផ្ទះបាយ។ គ្មាននរណាម្នាក់ចង់ចាកចេញទេ។ ពួកវាដូចជាផ្លែប៊្លូបឺរីនៅលើទ្រូងរបស់ពួកគេដែលបានសាងសង់និងពេញចិត្ត។ វាមានអាហារឆ្ងាញ់ពោតនិងស្រស់ស្រស់សាច់មាន់ចៀនមាន់និងសាឡាត់ដំឡូង។ កណ្តឹងខ្លាញ់និងខ្លាញ់។ នេះគឺជាបន្ទប់នេះ។ ព្រះនិងក្មេងស្រីរបស់ខ្ញុំតើអ្នកធ្ងន់ធ្ងរទេ? នេះគឺជាការសន្ទនាពិតប្រាកដ។ យើងជាមនុស្សពិត។ គ្រួសារតើអ្នកដឹងថាខ្ញុំកំពុងនិយាយអ្វីទេ? យើងគឺជាគ្រួសារមួយ។ អ្នកអាចធុំក្លិនស្នេហាមុនពេលទ្វារបើក។ អ្នកដឹងថានឹងមាននំ Walnut ។ តែផ្អែមនឹងបង្កក។ ប្រជាជននៅភាគខាងត្បូងនឹងរត់គេចពីទិសខាងជើងសំលេងក្រាស់ហើយភាពងងឹតរបស់ប្រទេសនឹងនៅជិតទីក្រុង។ បន្ទាប់ពីបំណែកមានតម្លាភាពពួកគេនឹងស្នាក់នៅលើតុនេះអស់រយៈពេលជាយូរមកហើយលាងចានធ្វើឱ្យម្ហូបអាហារឬខ្ចប់វាក្នុង TupptionWare និង ziplac ។ មនុស្សគ្រប់គ្នានឹងមានកាបូបមួយនិងរឿងមួយដែលត្រូវប្រាប់។ បុរសនឹងវាយអ្នក។ ស្រទាប់ណាន់យ៉ុនយ៉ុនបាយួយយ៉ុនបាយយ៉ាញាក់♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪លីធូ ពួកគេដូចជាភ្នែកខ្មៅរបស់ព្រះយេស៊ូវនៅក្នុងចំណាប់អារម្មណ៍បុរាណនេះដែលពោរពេញដោយក្តីស្រឡាញ់និងការតស៊ូ។ បរិភោគព្រលឹងតាំងពីដំបូង។ យុវជនរបស់ខ្ញុំបានអធិដ្ឋានទៅស្ថានសួគ៌ហើយទារកបានច្រៀងចំរៀងរបស់គាត់។ មនុស្សគ្រប់គ្នាយកចិត្តទុកដាក់និងស្ងប់ស្ងាត់។ នេះគឺជាបន្ទប់នេះ។ ឪពុកពិតជាចម្លែកណាស់។ តើមហារីកទារកទេ? ព្រះវិហារ។ នេះគឺជាការសន្ទនាពិតប្រាកដ។ យើងជាមនុស្សពិត។ គ្រួសារ។ តើអ្នកដឹងថាខ្ញុំកំពុងនិយាយអ្វីទេ? យើងគឺជាគ្រួសារមួយ។ គម្រោងទាំងអស់ស្ត្រីនិងក្មេងប្រុស។ Jonathan Fagan នៅគន្លឹះ។ Greg Toro កំពុងស្ថិតនៅលើបាស។ គាត់កំពុងរត់មិត្តភក្តិ។ តាមពិតនាងមានអាពាហ៍ពិពាហ៍បណ្តោះអាសន្ន។ នេះគឺជាបុរសរបស់ខ្ញុំ។ អ្វីគ្រប់យ៉ាងគឺល្អ។ រកមើលនៅនោះ។ គាត់គឺជាអ្នកចម្បាំងមិនស្មោះត្រង់។ វានឹងទៅរក Whisk តិចតួចហើយចូលទៅកាន់ Connecticut សម្រាប់ពិធីមង្គលការ។ អ្វីគ្រប់យ៉ាងគឺល្អ។ បន្ទាប់ពីនោះគឺជាបុរសរបស់ខ្ញុំ។ មនុស្សនៅលើស្គរមួយបុរសម្នាក់មកពីហ្គេដុនជ្រុង។ អ្វីគ្រប់យ៉ាងគឺល្អ។ យើងគឺជាសម្ព័ន្ធមិត្តមួយ។ យើងនឹងវិលត្រឡប់មកវិញនៅថ្ងៃស្អែកនៅឯមហោស្រព jazz jazz និងរៀបចំព្រឹត្តិការណ៍។ យើងនឹងមានពាក្យ មហាវិទ្យាល័យលោក Sir Berkeley ដឹកនាំដោយ Medford Terr-Lynn Carrington ។ វានឹងមិននៅទីនេះទេប៉ុន្តែសិស្សរបស់អ្នកនឹងធ្វើវាហើយអាចចាកចេញ។ ស្ត្រីវ័យក្មេងម្នាក់ឈ្មោះស្គរម្នាក់ឈ្មោះវែឌីណាខាទែគឺជាការនាំមុខការខិតខំហើយគឺ Car-Leen Carrington, 22-23 ដូច្នេះអ្នកប្រហែលជាចង់ចេញទៅក្រៅហើយមើល។ បន្ទាប់មកយើងនឹង rlach មិនដែលពីមុន។ អូខេវាពិតជាលោកដុនម៉ារៀលប្រធានផ្នែកសំលេងប៊េកឡីហើយបន្ទាប់មកយើងនឹងមានប្រធាននាយកប្រមូលផលរបស់ Berkeley បច្ចុប្បន្នដែលមានឈ្មោះថា George Russell Jr និង George ក្នុងកំណាព្យកីឡា។ តាមពិតប្រសិនបើអ្នកអាចវាគួរតែត្រូវបានគេចាត់ទុកថាជាការធ្វើដំណើរប្រសិនបើថ្ងៃអាទិត្យរបស់អ្នកអនុញ្ញាតឱ្យវាដូចដែលវានឹង ក្រវិល។ ល្អណាស់ដូច្នេះយើងសប្បាយចិត្តនឹងអ្នកហើយលាងសំអាតយើងពេញមួយថ្ងៃ។ ខ្ញុំសង្ឃឹមថាអ្នកមានជាតិទឹក។ បើមិនដូច្នោះទេបន្តហើយផឹកទឹកខ្លះនិងតែត្រជាក់ខ្លះ។ ប្រសិនបើអ្នកមានរសជាតិហិរបន្តិចសូមបន្តហើយទទួលបាន loh មួយចំនួន។ ពួកគេនៅតែមានស្ករគ្រាប់ភីហ្សានិងស្នែងហើយមានភាពខុសគ្នាទាំងអស់ដែលពួកគេធ្វើ។ យើងស្រឡាញ់ពួកគេ។ នេះគឺជាហាងនំកុម្មង់នំដាណឺម៉ាក។ ពួកគេស្ថិតនៅលើមហាវិថីបូស្តុននៅកាច់ជ្រុងបូស្តុននិងវីនធ័រ។