Good Heavens!  It appears I have time journeyed to the 22nd century.  I shall explore further. 

As I saunter down the streets, I notice that Negroes are running rampant.  Women appear able to partake in the same activities as men.  HA! Preposterous!  One was even so bold as to become an agent of the law.  Let us see her overcome a red coat!  She would most certainly be raped... repeatedly.

 My throat has become parched from all this nonsensery and so I enter a place of business to quench my thirst.  I enter what appears to be a harlot household filled with minorities.  A giant Negro (Tom?)* stands watch over the door.  Although my natural inclination is to enter a segregated dwelling*, it does not appear as though this is an option.  God save me. 

I have just recovered from my fourth seizure.  My senses have been overloaded from the loud noises, flashing lights (which appears to be very popular to say/sing) and sexual maneuvers that I have encountered.  It is difficult to tell whether men and women are copulating or gyrating to the music.  Methinks the answer is both from the lyrics of the new-fangled hit, "Fornicate in this Club". 

The women here are dancing in very revealing knickers and brassieres. I have not seen dance gyrations such as these since I walked in upon Darqueesha preparing my meal.   I try to avert my eyes but they are everywhere.  My pantaloons have become very tense from watching the dances of these seductresses.  I am quite embarrassed by my forward actions.  I must find a private place to tuck my flesh musket into my undergarments.  If only Jefferson were here, he would go mad in a place with so many women of color. 

Some of the slaves have taken it upon themselves to perform varying shenanigans in a circle of people.  They are pleasing to the eye, but my heart tells me they are of the devil.  I stay away.

A large Negress (Negro princess) has taken me captive.  I do not know where she is taking me...   It appears we have entered an outhouse of sorts and she has begun, if I may be so bold as to reference a song from the music chamber, to "unbutton my pantaloons just a lil' bit."   I am afraid of contracting the Elephant's Scorn from her. 

Call me Ishmael!*  I write this from atop the beast.  I liken her to a beached whale that I continually harpoon despite the fact that I have defeated her.  If Revere were to have me choose, this one is definitely by sea.  But I must focus for... The British are Coming! 

Note: *Indicates anachronistic reference